#anyways none of this is really that Deep i just wanted to try and articulate my thoughts on this whole thing without getting too- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gremlinmodetweeker · 1 month ago

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Machinations of Melancholic Merriment

Mer!König is probably my main focus until the end of the month. I know this one is short, but it helps set up a few key points. Namely, The Spider Crab (tm). I'm sure you guys will like this little break from the misery that is König's overthinking. Also, it helps give them a little common ground.

Tws: Fluff

Wordcount: 1.4K

Art from This Post

Rest of the Story Below the Cut

Machinations of Melancholic Merriment

Step one of the plan was simple: Hunt. This was easy, right? Of course it was! You were absolutely able to take on prey large enough for König. It’s not like he was over double your size and weight. Sure, maybe he was the inspiration for myths and legends about krakens, but that didn’t mean he needed to eat that much, right? You could do this. You could. You really could.

You were a fucking idiot.

The one thing that you knew would be suitable for König that you had a miniscule chance of actually surviving was probably a spider crab. If you were smart, you could avoid the claws and go for the body. Of course, that relied on actually avoiding the claws. That was the difficult part. Spider crabs were surprisingly agile when they wanted to be, their limbs strangely able to reach in places you didn’t think they could. They had a longer reach than you expected and they were nimble enough to know how to catch someone trying to go for their blind spot. Their limbs articulated in all the wrong ways. Frankly, looking at them for too long disturbed you.

But it was worth it for König. You knew he’d be so proud of you, his little warrior. He’d be so happy to take you as a mate after you proved your hunting worth. There was no doubt about it. Maybe he’d even pat your head and tell you how good you were for him. Oh yes, you could get used to that.

Unfortunately, that depended on actually managing to nab a spider crab. How you were going to do that was a bit beyond you though. If you crushed it, then you’d ruin all the good meat. You didn’t want to expose the flesh and attract other predators either, lest you have to fight for what was rightfully König’s.

Organising a hunt like this would be difficult. It wasn’t impossible though. It was just difficult. Terribly, terribly difficult. In all the worst ways possible. Really you were just talking yourself out of it by this point.

Why were you trying so hard anyways? König promised to take care of you no matter what. You didn’t need to be his mate for him to feed you or provide you a nice place to sleep. He never forced you into anything. He had every chance, every opportunity, and yet he still chose to keep you as a friend. But why did being a friend hurt?

You’d never even seen his face! How did you know you wanted to be his mate? He could be hideous for all you knew. His size was attractive, certainly, but it wasn’t like it was all you wanted. There was something more to him that you liked.

Maybe it was how calm he always was. He never got into a flap over anything. It was like he always knew he was somehow in control. In some ways he was, being the meanest monster in the deep by a longshot. He could be mean and cruel and vicious but he was none of those things. He was kind, gentle, and soft. He was as sweet as could be.

König could have made you sleep outside among the rocks, maybe build you a tiny little den to hide in, but instead he let you sleep in his room. At one point he’d even let you sleep with him in his den. Unfortunately, he’d been too ashamed after your massage a couple of weeks ago to let you close again. You’d make him take you back. If nothing else, he was so warm during the day, so cozy…

You were practically dozing off just thinking about sleeping with him. You missed the plush of his abdomen stretched over hard abs. His chest was the perfect pillow for your weary head. He was just perfect for you. You’d never slept better than when you rested on his chest. You’d fight tooth and nail just to get another chance to sleep with him.

Thus, this meant you’d fight a spider crab. Hunt. You were hunting a spider crab. This was not a battle between enemies on equal grounds, this was a predator culling their prey. It was just going to be a matter of strength to determine which of you would end up as the prey.

Dwelling would only get you so far. If you wanted to be König’s mate, you needed to take action.

“Ah, there you are!”

You turned to see König slowly raising up from the entrance of the nest, unfurling his arms and stretching out his muscles.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out here?” König curled up to rest beside you on the rocks.

“I was just relaxing,” you said calmly, “it’s nice out here.”

König hummed and nodded, “It is. It’s peaceful here. The currents aren’t too strong and there isn’t so much traffic here. In fact, I don’t think many creatures know of this place at all.”

“You think so?” you said.

“If more creatures knew then they’d fight me for it,” König scowled, “it would be much more difficult to keep this place to myself. As it is, I think the only merfolk that know I’m here are the ones you met earlier.”

“Who, Horangi and Hutch?” you asked.

“And Roze and Nikto, remember?”

“Yeah I remember,” you nodded, “they were nice.”

“They wanted to eat you.”

“Not after you told them I was your guest,” you pointed out.

“Hm, maybe. I wouldn’t be too sure. It’s best to be careful,” König pinched your cheek fondly, “you’re too sweet to be out in these waters.”

You swatted his hand with a laugh, “I’d be fine. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“But you’re so…” König shook his head and laughed, “you’re so small! So tiny! I just can’t get over it. I don’t know how you managed to live down here in the first place.”

You grimaced, “I was hungry most of the time.”

“That’s why I’ve got to feed you so much!” König snorted, “you need to eat to be strong.”

“I feel like I’ve been getting better though,” you smiled as you looked down at yourself, “I’m looking more like what I did when I was closer to the surface.”

“So you did live near the surface,” König put his chin in his hands, “what’s it like up there?”

“Much warmer,” you replied, “and there’s more small prey. It’s easier to find a nice burrow and stay safe from predators.”

“Is it as pretty as they say?”

“Better, actually,” you smiled at the memories, “so many colours and sounds all the time. It was a lot, but it was exciting too. I liked having so much life around me all the time. It was nice.”

“Are there really more corals up there?”

“So so many,” you laughed, “I barely see any here. Up in the shallows there’s some at every corner. You can’t not find them. They’re everywhere. It’s beautiful.”

“Horangi brought me some corals from the surface,” König gestured towards this nest, “I like to use them as shelves to hold my treasures.”

“There’s so many more though,” you leaned back and looked up at the never ending darkness, “so much more.”

König looked up with you. You wondered briefly what he saw when he looked up. Had he ever seen the stars before? Did he know about the moon? Had he ever heard of the white and black gulls that swooped down from above?

“Hey König?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been to the surface?”

König sighed sadly.

“I told myself I wouldn’t go that far until I found a mate,” he said quietly, “I didn’t want to be alone when I saw it all.”

“Why not?” you asked gently.

“Because I wanted to know if what I was seeing was real.”

You laid a hand over his and stroked the back of his palm, “I could take you there.”

König laughed bitterly, “No. You’re my guest. You’re not my mate.”

You flinched. His words stung deep inside. With four words he tore your heart from your chest like plucking a seashell off the beach, only to discard it moments later.

“Would you ever see me as a mate?”

You didn’t know if you wanted to hear the answer.

König was quiet. His lower arms curled anxiously and his tentacles clung close to his sides. Ever so quietly, so much so that even with your enhanced hearing it was barely more than a whisper, you heard him gently say, “That would be nice.”

And in an instant he was gone.

You looked back at the hole he’d ducked into and smiled.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as you expected.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

Mer!Konig Page

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adamantineheart · 1 year ago

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I'm trying to articulate why I love Dame Aylin so much and why she feels like such a miracle of a female character to me but it's like HAVE YOU SEEN HER??? WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO SAY????

jfdjdjfjdjfjfj

okay but really

I bought this game because her design immediately won me over. I had no idea what her personality was going to be like, but I was hopeful that an angel lady in full armor would have something I’d like about her. I vaguely became aware that she was gay and eventually saw some spoilers and discovered her other half was Isobel. Honestly, both of them could have been terribly written and I'd still have enjoyed them because Aylin pretty, but that's not what happened at all.

I don't even know, but the moment I met Aylin it was like oh my god... oh my god. And IT WAS JUST HER BEATEN UP AND INSULTING BALTHAZAR. But that itself was all I needed to understand she was special. Their conversation just said so much about her personality. Her speech patterns, her confidence, her pride, her vengeance... Balthazar is an arrogant bastard who talks a big talk, but the underlying feeling I had was that if he messed up his intricate spells he'd be fucked because she would absolutely kill him. Aylin isn't a damsel in distress that needs you to save her from a monster... she's a tiger in the world's most impossible to escape cage. And it has to be—because not even a hundred years of torture made her any less dangerous.

So that was already my first impression of her and she wasn’t even physically doing well. She was dirty, her clothes were tattered, she wasn't given the dignity of shoes, her hair had been shaved... and that was just the surface level stuff. But none of it diminished how strong she looked. Even in that state, she was physically imposing. Some of that was her attitude, but she's also A Big Woman and it's fucking terrific. I wanted to watch her swat Balthazar down like a fly.

Of course, that's not how the fight goes. She can't be released until you go to release her and...

That transformation.

She is resplendent.

It's such a moving scene. Anyone who plays the game will remember it clearly because it leaves such a huge impression. But for me, it was another piece of why she was so magnificent. It's that full battle angel look that made me want to meet her in the first place, but with so much more emotion and significance. Returning to it with context on a second playthrough just makes it more powerful to me because I understand exactly what she's lost, how deep Ketheric's betrayal was, and I know all that pain and suffering she's gone through is not just at an end, but about to be replaced with a reunion so sweet it will bring Aylin to her knees.

That's sort of the final big piece of why Aylin just makes so [clenches fist]. She loves Isobel so truly. Loves her with her entire immortal soul. Respects her, treasures her, adores her. And.. this part is so important because in so many other stories it would end there, but BG3 makes it clear Aylin also deeply desires her. Wants to spend time passionately making love to her. It's so humanizing and beautiful and just everything to me!!!

anyway, yes. dame aylin.... may she smite all her enemies and fuck her wife in peace.

#bg3 #dame aylin #moonangel

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mossiestpiglet · 20 days ago

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I think ascribing it to age or experience on other sites is maybe the wrong place to start. If the subject is “why don’t people respond more?” the first aspects to look at are people who are want to converse and are here for that vs people who don’t and aren’t. There is a conflation in this thread between being able to converse well and wanting to converse and also being here for the purpose of conversing. I can have deep and challenging conversations til the cows come home, but that’s not what I came here for initially and not what I want to do when I come back. I came here for sharing funny and interesting things and for making my own posts, and while I certainly converse more than I did initially it is still all based on whether I will find it fun enough or beneficial enough to others to justify the effort expended. I cannot speak for people who might want to converse more but are scared to because of backlash, because I have different reasons for not wanting to respond.

Additionally, I feel an added pressure to articulate myself as clearly as possible if I talk in a reblog, where if its in the tags who gives a shit. So it takes more effort to do this, and I don’t come here when I want to expend effort. I’m here to chill. Articulating myself badly and then having to clarify later would just be more effort and more time spent talking to people when, again, that’s not really the kind of entertainment I am here for. Any response invites more response, which would be more effort for me, so I every time I debate whether it is worth it to participate (I’m literally right now debating just deleting what I have written) because what if I get a response? And then have to respond to that too? It’s fine if it’s fun to talk about, but why would I want to be locked into a conversation which is stressful — or worse, boring.

I’m not concerned with getting yelled at or hate because it’s tumblr that happens anyway even if I only make original posts or reblog things without saying anything. It’s all about whether it is fun enough to justify the effort, and it usually isn’t. It’s not a lack of ability or a fear of reprisal, it’s just having different goals in being here.

(None of this is to say I resent people who respond to my posts or reblogs, though I understand how it sounds like that. There is nuance, but I am intentionally trying to not edit myself as much as I can stand because if I try to refine it too much I just won’t respond at all, which illustrates my point but only to me.)

This is probably because I am Internet Old (41 years of age)

And because I grew up with message board/forum/blog/LJ culture...

but it seems like many younger people do not want to converse; that any response other than 'THIS' - anything that reflects, responds, adds, comments upon, etc a post is seen as adversarial/disagreement.

I'd love to have a conversation about this trend, especially as it relates to tumblr, which USED to be a much more conversational website than it currently is.

replies vs. reblogs definitely exacerbated this hugely; the tiktokification of 'person who creates content' and 'person who consumed that content' rather than 'human beings having a conversation'.

#this is also why i am shit in discord servers #i don’t want to actually talk to people i want to play with my own thoughts #long post

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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your palms were sweaty as you adjusted your slacks, making sure the pleats were where they should be with not a wrinkle in sight. you wanted to look professional and put together, at least on the outside, because you knew you were actually about .2 seconds away from falling apart.

a quick glance to the boys at your sides notified you that they weren’t faring much better. atsumu kept fidgeting with his cufflinks, sakusa was so stiff you could knock him over with your pinky, kenma looked like he was about to pass out, bokuto was debating on squeezing under the table in front of you, kuroo was tapping a pattern on his pants (akeelah and the bee style), and akaashi kept reciting ominous poems under his breath.

the only people in the room who looked even remotely fine were osamu, oikawa, sugawara, daichi, and, surprisingly, yachi. osamu was munching on some peanuts that he pulled from... somewhere, while oikawa and sugawara were holding their own conversation by the window. daichi seemed to be minding his own business but you could never really get a proper read on him anyway.

well, you supposed yachi was okay because she knew what to expect. i mean, you were meeting her boss.

after you and kenma had posted your “exposing the hype(r) house” youtube video, an email had come to the both of you, inviting you to visit the “big boss” along with the rest of the crew.

you weren’t necessarily afraid of losing your job; the hype(r) house was already being dissolved and you were (finally!!!) getting to move in with makki and mattsun until you found your own place. you were genuinely excited to put the drama and literal hell behind you and begin to live your life again but...

that didn’t mean meeting the Man™ wasn’t terrifying. it was like being called into the principal’s office, complete with the existential dread and occasional bouts of gassiness.

the door opening made you flinch as you quickly moved out of the way to let the newcomers enter. while they walked past you, you couldn’t contain the shock that overtook your face, your jaw practically on the floor.

the man was massive.

built like a brick wall, the man who you assumed to be the “big boss,” had a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and massive fucking pecs, his white button up barely closing around them.

beside him stood a tall, lanky man who was dressed suspiciously un-office-like with a red buzz cut and wild eyes that seemed to cut into you as he took his place at the table.

the final man seemed a bit awkward in comparison to the other two, but he was trying to seem unaffected, his purple bowlcut, despite being rather juvenile, fitting perfectly with his slim but toned build and bright complexion.

yachi hurried to greet them, giving all three a blinding smile before motioning for everyone else to take a seat. you ended up between the redhead and atsumu, the former being way too entertained by just your general being. his eyes rarely, if ever, left your face sending shivers down your spine. the remaining members all hesitantly took their seats and “big boss” began.

“it is an honor to meet you all. i am ushijima wakatoshi but you can call me ushijima or wakatoshi or ushiwaka or toshijima or just ushi or just jima or just waka or just toshi.” for a moment you thought he was joking but his face never moved, not even with the awkward silence that followed. redhead seemed rather amused by the whole display and bowl cut looked like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting.

it took an uncomfortably long moment for ushijima to proceed but he did as though nothing had happened. “these are my associates, satori—” redhead gave you a mischievous grin “—and tsutomu.”

“goshiki,” bowl cut interrupted, his voice wavering but his eyes gleaming with righteous indignation as though he was challenging wakatoshi to say something in defiance. instead, ushijima just gave him a nod and he visibly deflated back into his seat.

“goshiki is the social media manager for imla and satori is... satori,” big boss continued, not a hint of emotion on his face. the rest of the table perked up at his comment but atsumu was the only one who apparently had the balls to say anything.

“so yer the one who wrote that shitty among us tweet?” goshiki flushed horribly and sunk further into his plush leather chair, his body language showing he must’ve already gotten an earful about it. “thought it was a good idea,” he muttered while averting his eyes, completely ignoring satori’s cackle from across the wood.

ushijima put up a (massive???) hand to calm the both of them and it instantly worked. satori quieted down though he never lost the mirth in his expression and goshiki straightened up, a new wave of determination crossing his features.

you sat up as well, feeling the shift of energy in the room but you were startled to realize the boss had decided to focus his energy on you, his deep baritone voice calling your full name. “i am extremely sorry. we have failed you as a management team and as men. i have failed you.”

he sounded remarkably remorseful, his brown irises conveying heavy emotion and guilt. you had no idea what to say but he wasn’t done.

“although i do not have full control of the decisions that have been made here, i should have fought harder for what i believed was right and for that, i will forever be sorry.” you shifted uncomfortably under his weighty gaze, not that he noticed because his attention was swiftly taken by kenma at the opposite end of the room.

“who is in charge then? aren’t you like the ceo or whatever?” he asked. ushijima took a moment before nodding very slowly, his attention clearly on something in his head.

thankfully, satori rapidly took over the thread of conversation before the room could fall in tense silence yet again. “there’s a board of old, stuffy guys who basically kicked miracle boy wakatoshi to the curb and make all their decisions without him.”

...miracle boy? what did he have to do to earn that kind of nickname? you shook your head and tuned back in, just as the ceo spoke up once again.

“because i have not succeeded in doing my job properly, i have something to give to you,” ushijima deadpanned, sliding a thick envelope towards you. you carefully grabbed it and opened it up to reveal a thick, thick, wad of cash.

a gasp caught in your throat, words not coming to you as you thumbed through the money. there had to be at least $60k in there, your eyes filling with tears while you took in his generosity. “thank you,” you whispered, not trusting your voice to speak any louder.

wakatoshi nodded at you before addressing the rest of the table about something but you weren’t even listening.

you were so overwhelmed. for the longest time, you’d hated whoever management was for ignoring your pleas for help and trying to placate you with nice dresses and fancy dinners so meeting ushijima was quite the welcomed surprise.

despite everything that occurred, you could tell he felt horrible for letting things slide even though it was technically out of his hands and you couldn’t even articulate how much that meant to you.

the fact that he had gone out of his way to pay you extra, assumingly without the permission of the board, was heartwarming, confusing, shocking, and staggering all at once.

i mean, you could probably describe the past few months as exactly that. so much had happened, so much had changed, and while you could do without some of the life adjustments (the nightmares, spare trauma, and fear of public bathrooms to start), you felt blessed with new friends and the experiences that helped shape you to the person you were now.

the boys didn’t hate you anymore (well, not all of them at least and none were actively antagonizing you), you were seeing dr yamada again, you were getting to move in with your two best friends, you were just given enough money to expand your channel drastically, and you were finally feeling good. better than good.

meiko was behind you and though you missed the person she once was, you were so glad she was out of your life in a way where she couldn’t harm you or the boys any longer.

a grin spread across your face, your cheeks nearly burning from the intensity of it. things were definitely looking up.

a soft call of your name jolted you from your thoughts, your eyes landing on all the boys already standing as they got ready to leave the room. you could sense their worry and you shot them a genuine, reassuring smile before standing yourself.

you waved goodbye to the three men at the table, thanking ushijima profusely for his kindness but he shook you off, insisting that he had just been doing what he should’ve done a long time ago.

what a nice guy.

as you followed the boys out of the building, you took a moment to observe them together with fondness written all over your expression. they were laughing and joking around, the happiest and most carefree you had ever seen any of them. bokuto was begging yachi to get them ice cream, the rest of them piling on until she gave in with a playful roll of her eyes, giggling at the cheer that went up from the group.

atsumu seemed to notice you lagging behind, falling back to join you. “ya okay angel?” he asked, eyes focused on your feet as he slowed down to match your pace.

you didn’t answer for a while, instead focusing on the sun warming your cheeks, the cool breeze messing up your hair, and the sounds of pure joy swirling above you.

“i’m absolutely perfect.” you replied and you actually meant it. “race you to the van?” you sent him an impish grin before taking off, his yells of indignation making you laugh freely as the rest of the boys joined in, right on your heels.

this is it, you thought. no matter what, i’ll have this moment and i’ll be okay.

you’d been through hell and back and you’d survived. you’d been cursed at, choked out, hospitalized, and been beaten at mario kart more times than you could count and you had still made it through. you were resilient and strong and you’d never given up, despite how badly you’d wanted to, multiple times over.

things weren’t perfect, they rarely are, but you knew that if you could make it through all that, you could get through practically anything, especially with the boys by your side.

yeah. i’ll be just fine.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

bonus!!

“told you it sounded stupid as hell.”

“gah, stop talking about it!!”

“you sounded sooooo old ‘shiki, what are you, 92?”

“AAAAAAAAAA!!!”

“satori...”

“what’s up miracle boy?”

“...what is ‘sus’?”

℗ poker face

i’ll be just fine

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - AND THATS A WRAP FOLKS 🥳 wowowow did the ending give me trouble but that’s ok SISJSK the endings will be coming shortly but they might not be daily just cs they may take more time, who knows lmfao i’ll let y’all know :3 AAAA ANYWAYS ILY I HOPE U GUYS LIKED KITH KITH don’t forget to feed me <3

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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vi-trying-to-survive · 4 years ago

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Hello again 😌 I was just wondering if you would be up for another Stephen Strange fanfic? Perhaps a Halloween themed one?! I’ve had this idea for a while but I wanted to fully articulate it before I sent it to you :) anyways, maybe they have a night in and watch horror movies, like Scream (that’s one’s my favorite) and they make popcorn and the reader jumps at all the jump scares but Stephen comforts her?? Or, alternatively, where they have a small little Halloween party and the reader dresses up in like the cliché nurses costume and Stephen finds it kinda sexy?? Like you don’t have to get super explicit or anything, but ya know ;) anyways, I leave it up you, you wonderful writer, to pick which one you prefer or whatnot :) have a stunning day, dear! <3

Safety In Numbers

Stephen Strange x f!Reader

Warnings: None, this is full of fluff 💖💖💖

Summary: Stephen and (Y/N) watch a horror movie for Halloween, but she is more terrified than she would've thought

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one :) And is you did please let me know, or if you have any ideas on how I can improve my writing :) I hope you guys have an amazing day 💖💖💖

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"Darling what are you doing ?", he questioned, mildly amused, as he raised an eyebrow at the woman stood by the light switches, deep in thought with her eyebrows furrowed, flicking them on and off, a resonating clicking noise filling the warm space. The room going from brightly-lit to pitch black in a matter of seconds, resembling a low-grade rave. He wondered how he even got himself to the couch without knocking into the furniture or getting dizzy, sinking down on the soft, fluffy cushions, sighing in relief, as he set down the bowl filled with puffed up kernels of hot, salty, buttery popcorn, toasted to the perfect golden, still crisp when he popped a few into his mouth, turning to fixate his gaze on her once more.

She sent him a pointed look, still unwavering from the task at hand, snapping the switch back and forth a few more times, peering at the different settings, a hand positioned thoughtfully on her chin, "Trying to set the mood ?", before turning them off, moving to nestle herself next to him on the seat next to him.

The faint glow of the television reflected onto their skin, painting them different shades, her arms wrapping around his torso, as she rested her head in the crook of his neck, a leg swung and tangled with his, humming in content at the subtle warmth. He couldn't help but press his lips together tightly in worry, leaning his head down to focus his gaze on her, blatantly stating, "This is a horror movie".

Shrugging her shoulder, she reached out to the bowl on the chipped coffee table, scooping a hand full of the fresh popcorn, stuffing it into her mouth, as she mumbled, "Its Halloween", the boisterous crunching sound dying down, her hands raised to gesture at the terribly unrealistic cobwebs she had stuck up, giving him a confident smirk, "If I don't make it scary, who am I ?",

"Whatever you say, but I would suggest keeping the lights on", he spoke, rolling his eyes lovingly, running a hand through his fluffy locks, waving a finger at her knowingly, "You know how scary movies make you feel".

Slapping him lightly on the arm, she protested, "But that's the whole point love", flapping her arms around dramatically to extenuate her point, causing him to chuckle softly at her antics, tugging her frame closer to his, using a hand to gently stroke her thick, wild locks, placing a sweet kiss on the crown of her head, the edges of her lips curling up into a wide grin.

Focusing her attention back on the television, she fished around the army of throw pillows, gasping successfully when she found the worn remote, handing it to the man she intertwined herself to, she wondered, "Oh by the way, what movie did you end up picking ?", as he flipped through the multiple options, finally settling on one.

"Scream", he answered nonchalantly, unbothered to tear his eyes from the illuminated screen, grabbing some of the popcorn, the familiar intro stirring a wave of excitement in his chest.

"Huh, I've never seen it before", she realized, snuggling into his side, eyes glued to the movie playing before them in curiosity, trying to ignore the jaw-dropped gasping look on her boyfriends face, eventually turning to face him, exclaiming, "What ?".

His eyes darted from the television screen to her luminescnt face, eyes wide in shock, "How have you never seen it before ?", mentally smacking his palm against his forehead at the women next to him, having formed an emotional attachment to the film over a course of time, "It's a classic !!".

"I don't know, maybe I was too terrified as a kid ?", she responded, confusion, eyes turned to the ceiling in thought, before shoveling another round of popcorn into her mouth, deciding to ignore the sorcerer, who was still giving her a strange look, "I'll be fine now"

Narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously, he huffed, "If you say so ?", moving his hand to lay softly across her lap, attempting to stifle the teasing grin on his face, feeling another playful punch at his side.

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"Oh my- Stephen- No- Why-", she screamed, eyes growing as large as saucers, unable to tear them away from the flashing screen, clutching tightly onto the mans arms, feeling her nails dig into the skin, trying to ignore for a few minutes, forcing himself to glue his eyes to the screen, as she continued down her dilemma, "Why would you- No- I literally can't-".

Letting the scene end, he raised the remote, pressing down on the faded button, running a hand across his face in concern, fixating his gaze on her, questioning, "Are you feeling fine ?", her expression making it look like she was relaxed, but the sharp edges of her fingernails, carving marks into his forearms said otherwise.

Forcing a smile on her face, that ended up looking more like a painful grimace, she responded, "Yes what makes you say otherwise ?", quickly prying the remote from his fingers, hitting play again, curling the half-empty bowl closer to her frame, snuggling her head deeper into the crook of his neck. She hoped he was distracted by the movie again, too absorbed to notice how she flinched and shut an eyes as the killer walked into the room, clutching the large bowl like her life depended on it, her fingers still buttered and slippery.

"What in the-", she yelled, the bowl flying from her hands, littering the ground and couch with half-cooked popcorn kernels, fixating her gaze on the surprised sorcerers, who had moved from his slightly slumped position on her side, now perched at the edge of his seat, most likely startled by the loud clang that filled the space as the bowl hit her hardwood floor panels, sending him a sheepish grin, "Now there's popcorn everywhere".

He chewed the inside of his cheek, promptly breaking down and bursting into uncontrollable laughter, clutching his sides desperately, as the corners of his eyes became damp with tears. Sensing her furious glare, he urged his laughter to stop, reducing them to slow giggles, before accepting the bowl she shoved into his arms, the spilled popcorn piled into it, "It's alright", he tilted his face down to peck her cheek, before pushing himself to stand, the cold floor chilling his feet as he made his way to the kitchen, "I'll just go make more, with that obscene amount that you bought in the store", reaching into the cabinets to fish out more.

Rolling her eyes a little, she retorted, "First of all they were on sale", leaning across the back of the couch to watch him, eyes fleeting about the small space, suddenly feeling chills down her spine, causing her to throw off her fuzzy blanket, padding after him, her footsteps echoing across the stained, wooden floors, "Second of all, .... there's safety in numbers, so I'm coming there".

Reaching the man who leaned on the counter, she interlocked her fingers, behind his neck, resting her head in the crook of his neck, gently placing a kiss on the sensitive skin, as he chuckled lowly, pressing her frame against his, the sounds of the microwave buzzing filling the air.

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"Darling- Love- Stephen-", she tried, her eyes having long since adjusted to the dimness that shaded the room, the unidentifiable shaped seeming much more malicious than they usually did, "Are you even awake ? How are you even asleep ?", driving her finger into his side aggressively, as she convinced herself that she heard unusual sound from the closet.

"It was just a movie (Y/N)", squeezing his eyes shut, he dug his face further into the comforting, silky pillows, moving the hand draped across her waist up and down, a futile attempt at consoling the women, which he mostly blamed on his lack of sleep, having decided to stay up into the night recently to indulge himself in some new spells.

Feeling her lips curve down into a frown, she shifted her body around to face him, causing the bed to creak tumultuously, her heart racing in response, as she hissed at him, frantically glancing at the room around them, "But there could be a killer here right now".

"Darling just go to sleep", he sighed, tightening his grip on her waist, to drag her closer to him, resting his head on hers, rubbing his cheek against her messy hair softly, "If anyone tries to hurt you, I'll protect you", yawning a little as he pulled the covers up to envelope them defensively.

"Stephen-", she began, raising a hand to cup his cheek, lovingly stroking, fighting the gentle smile that spread across her face, admiring his eyes, as they defeatedly opened. The striking blue still clear and visible to her, even in the inky darkness, the image memorized and stored away safely in her mind a long time ago.

"Yes (Y/N)", he mumbled, a part of him still deep in sleep, nestling his face into her hair, inhaling deeply as he hummed contently at the scent of sugar and cinnamon that he had grown fond of.

"I love you", she admitted, tilting her head up to connect their lips, brushing against his delicately, to which he was quick to respond, moving conscientiously against hers, even in his exhaustion, knowing exactly what to do to cause the airy sigh that he loved so much to leave her lips. Breaking the kiss, she ran her tongue over her lips, the taste of the sweet, salty caramel from the popcorn still lingering in her mouth, as she snuggled into him, letting her arms rest loosely across his chest, finally feeling safe, her legs tangling up in his, the heat and security calming her panicked mind, letting the steady thump of his heart lull her to sleep.

"I love you too", he spoke, pausing for a moment to admire her, even if her hair was a wild, knotted bush on her head, only dressed in worn shorts and a faded, torn college T-shirt, still managing to be absolutely stunning, as her eyes fluttered shut, letting himself drift of to sleep, pleased at the feeling of her in his arms.

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@thefluffypancake I hope you like it and that I got what you were thinking of :) 💖💖💖 and hopefully I can get to the other one too ;) 💖💖💖

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blackhallow · 3 years ago

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pls talk more yuki headcanons before the rest of her arc gets released dondbvsmkldnfhgrnff 🥺🥺🥺🥺👉👈

DFJGSDJGS thank you for enabling me you are SO real sorry i'm so late to answer this!!! i am deep into my yuki brainrot so there's a lot :)

you already know all my hcs for her technique i won't even try to guess anything different. i just hope hope hope it's something very powerful, i kinda like the idea of her being able to walk away from the "duties" of a SPV by just being too strong, like who was going to stop her from leaving? no one COULD. she was the strongest before gojo came around!!

this is such a stretch but bear with me. you know how riko's parents died in a car accident when she was very young? i think it wasn't an accident and it was orchestrated either by the time vessel organization to kill them AND riko or just by tengen's people to keep riko closer to them, and i think they did the same to yuki's parents, or just her family in general, and deep down she's always known. (unrelated but i kinda have this hc for shoko too rip)

i think that as a teen yuki had a caretaker like riko did and i think they were very close, but she died protecting yuki </3 and i don't think she went to jujutsu high at all but rather she's been on her own ever since (since she was 15ish?). i think somehow she got out of the country and saw that sorcerers were SO different overseas since there aren't that many curses, and the world is much more peaceful (peaceful in the jujutsu sense) and this is what gave her the idea of :/// what if japan was like this too? and then she took it a step further and was what if there was just none of this anywhere? so she's been working towards getting rid of cursed energy ever since

she deeply deeply hates tengen for this since their barrier is the reason there's so much jujutsu in japan. she also hates she can't just kill them because that could put the whole world in peril but she would in a heartbeat if it weren't for the apocalyptic consequences.

she adopted todo bc she saw a lot of potential in him even from so early on, but mostly she saw him all alone and knew how much that hurt, and she never really wanted him to follow in her footsteps and never expected him to care about her ideals but he did anyways. neither of them really wanted him to go to jujutsu high but eventually he decided he would go to gather intel on the most conservative faction (hence going to kyoto). pushing my todo is a spy theory for which i have zero supporting evidence :) :)

she understands why geto started thinking the way he did but at the same time she loathes his methods. she wonders if she could've ended up like him if things were a bit different, and puts a lot of emphasis in never straying from her true goals and achieving them in a way that doesn't end up hurting more people. (she eventually learns about nanako and mimiko and understands geto even more. she would do the same if someone treated her kid like that too. still hates everything he did afterwards tho)

uhh random smaller hc rapidfire. yuki's the best teacher ever. she not only rides a motorcycle but she's also a nerd and builds them from scratch. she's so so so so smart and well-read in pretty much anything. she's very strong but prefers knowledge as a weapon, EXTREMELY good at any type of debates. she blames herself for a lot of things that aren't her fault, but tries not to spend too much time dwelling on it and instead always tries to do better. i think she feels lonely often and if she does have a bunch of shikigami she values them a lot as her only constant companions. she's extremely well-connected literally everywhere she goes someone important will know her. allies are very important to her but she keeps them emotionally at arms-length, and literally no one can tell because she's so... chirpy and easygoing all the time. she does care a lot though, i'm having trouble articulating this sdkfhds. basically no one REALLY knows yuki except for todo who got to see so many sides of her growing up. also she's bi, but prefers women (is leather jacket bisexual like... a trope? i think it is). she could pilot a plane or helicopter if needed and has had to, in occasion. i go back and forth on how old she is but i've settled for mid to late thirties. absolute polyglot she's fluent in probably a dozen languages. can cook but she's lazy. working out is important to her from a mental wellness standpoint but she also just likes to look hot. todo gets her into takada-chan's music <3. and she has the most random music taste ever her playlists go from jazz to idol music to rap to reggae to blues to everything else, will listen to anything todo sends her. she can't sing for shit tho. good at handling her alcohol (not as good as shoko, which bothers her, always accuses shoko of using rct to stop herself from getting drunk but yuki knows she isn't). always knows a little too much about people's lives even though she's nowhere to be seen most of the times, it's a bit unsettling. she knows she's a very polarizing person and a lot of people have wrong assumptions about her but she doesn't really care, she does her best to live the way she wants to <33333

watch all of this be disproven within like. two chapters </3 some of these are plausible but most are just me being deranged and in love with her. but anyways idc idc i love her so much thank you for sending me this ask i can talk about yuki for ages sdkjfsk

#this is a MESS of a post my god #on an unrelated note i despise gege for stating yuta is the second strongest sorcerer #in my heart that's yuki and it will always be her #also ships hcs for her are uro and kuroi <333 beloved rarepairs #i was really into yuki/mei mei before That mei mei chapter dropped sighhhh why does gege hate me #notice how in all of this i did not mention that one scene in ch 138 where she apologizes to someone for not intervening sooner #i think about that daily and i have no clue who she's talking to #not a clue!!!!#also apparently she met larue from geto's old group and he's on her side??? no clue about that either #anywayssss yuki fic coming in the near future it started as a short character study but it has evolved into a multichaptered fix it RIPPPP #what is it fixing? everything.#answered #ouroagnos #my fellow milfyuki truther <3333

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graysongraysoff · 1 year ago

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As much as I love fanfiction and find transformative works fascinating and valuable as literature in their own right, I can't just keep ignoring fanfic and fandom culture's contribution to the rapid decay of critical thinking and media literacy through its reliance on ships and tropes and shorthand of that nature, to the point that publishers have started marketing books via AO3 tags rather than like. Plot synopses.

And even if I could ignore that, I can't keep ignoring the ways in which this tropey shorthand on which fanfiction and, increasingly, original fiction relies contributes to ace erasure and aphobia because 90 fucking percent of it is romantic and/or sexual in nature. Despite it being 2024 in two days and aromanticism and asexuality being more visible than ever before, as time goes on it only feels more and more to me like the only avenues for participating in fandom is via shipping. Gen content exists but always as a secondary interest, an afterthought. A single themed week in a year of shipping events and zines and gift exchanges. If I want to RP I need to provide a list of not only characters I'm willing to play but also characters I'm willing to ship with. I once joined a character-centric Discord server and the only information asked for in the intro post template other than name, age, and socials was "What are your favorite [character] ships?" Not like, oh I don't know, "What is your favorite thing about [character]? What do you like about them?" I am, no joke, asked about my favorite ships in fandom spaces more often than I'm asked about my favorite characters.

And it's not that I don't ship things or engage with shippy content, I obviously do, the last thing I posted was a 5k STSG reverse bang fic, but what I'm trying to articulate is like. Sometimes it feels like an interest in romance and shipping is like. A prerequisite. For participating in fandom in a way that makes people actually want to interact with you and be your friend. Which, as someone whose primary interest in fandom is gen content, feels really, like. Intimidating and exclusionary, at best. At worst it feels like I'm the only ace at the high school lunch table again and everyone's being horny and I'm just sitting there like 🙂.

And beneath all of this is the deep, deep fear that all of the above is just me obfuscating my own internalized self-loathing and aphobia and petty jealousy of people I know personally with fancy academic language and none of these are actually problems in fandom at large but rather just. Personal things I need to talk to my therapist about and get over, which. Well, I guess both can be true. These can be problems in fandom at large and also things I'm dealing with personally that I need to get over.

Anyway, this is the kind of stuff I've been grappling with recently and why I've been considering, more seriously than I ever have before, just not posting fanfic anymore. Which is kind of huge for me since I've been posting fanfiction since 2011. But lately I find I spend more time and energy feeling bad about it than I do feeling good, which is a devastating realization to have about something I do for fun and one of my main hobbies for over a decade.

And idk. In all likelihood I will not stick to this. I've already started writing a sequel to a fic I posted this year, but I could just write it for myself and not post it. I'm still flip-flopping on whether I'll apply to an upcoming Gojo & Megumi zine, but I'm leaning towards not since it's a fluff/comedy zine for one, and also because one of the many things I learned this year is that deadlines make fic feel like homework to me. I've been having so many of these nights lately where thinking about fanfic and fandom just makes me so miserable, it seems like it might just be better to take myself out of the equation entirely. To stop breaking my own heart over a perceived lack of attention and validation by no longer seeking it, but idk. I've tried and failed to quit fic before, so only time will tell.

I wish I was smart enough to articulate the connection between

My lingering self-loathing/internalized aphobia from the "ace discourse" days

My disillusionment with fandom and the strong temptation to stop posting fanfiction altogether, period, forever

The sudden resurgence of my horrible tendency toward extreme childish tantrums of jealousy which literally hasn't reared its ugly head since I was a junior in college

#anyway lol have whatever the fuck this is #it's not very well structured it has no conclusion i'm just. venting ig.#ugh.

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dickwheelie · 4 years ago

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real quick before pride month ends I wanna post this thing about jon being bi that i've kind of been trying to write for months now. I think I've finally managed to articulate how I feel about jon being bi and how I feel about being bi, and this is very much a melding of the two. a lot of this is very specific to me and I can only hope other people find it interesting, and maybe some of you out there will share some of my experiences. anyway please enjoy, and happy pride all <3

___________

He supposed that there must have been a part of him, deep down somewhere, that had always known. That was how it worked, wasn't it? Something in his DNA, or a hardwired part of his brain; it must have been in there somewhere, all his life.

But of course, in the world he was raised in, he'd never had much of a chance to investigate that sort of thing. Before he went to uni, all he knew was that men liked women, and women liked men, and there was a small group of people somewhere else, off to the side, who did things differently. A strange, exotic group of people that had nothing to do with him.

Uni had been less of a wake up call and more of a gradual rise to consciousness, a slowly dawning awareness that most of the people around him were, in fact, members of that strange group that did things differently. And they were all perfectly ordinary; not exotic at all. Many of them were like him; they went to the same classes, the same pubs, studied the same subjects. He remembered once, in his first year, speaking to a woman he'd sat next to in class for half a semester and being shocked when she mentioned, off-handedly, that she was trans. All he could think for the rest of class was, I had no idea.

He also remembered the first time he'd ever considered that he, himself, might actually be one of these people who did things differently. The thought had never really crossed his mind, despite the fact that he was surrounded by them, and that he felt at home with them, somehow, more than any other group of friends he'd had before. It was shortly after he'd met Georgie, when they were friends but not yet dating, that she was sitting with him in a pub and pointed out for him all the people in the room she thought were cute. She pointed out a couple men, and then a few women, and then someone whose gender was entirely a mystery to him. And then she'd asked him, what about you? And he had looked around the pub, at all the various types and shapes and colors of people, and he'd pointed out a few women, and a couple men, and a handful of people whose genders were a mystery. It was easy, he realized then. He hadn't even had to think about it. It had been there, somewhere deep down, all along.

He didn't tell Georgie right then, but later, when they were together, he'd confess that that was the moment he'd realized. Georgie laughed, kindly enough, and told him she'd been surprised herself. I hadn't pegged you as queer, she'd said, but when you said it I thought, of course he is. I know how to pick 'em.

Which got at one of his problems, post-realization. He wanted people to know, to be seen as part of that group that was once so strange to him, but for the most part, people just . . . couldn't tell. He dressed a certain way, and spoke a certain way, and though he'd never been the most masculine person in the room nobody ever suspected he was anything but a hundred percent straight.

And it . . . hurt, in a strange way. He'd look around at all of his loud and proud friends and classmates, people who dyed their hair and dressed in fantastical outfits and spoke in particular ways, people who you couldn't mistake for anything but who they were, and he would feel somewhat apart from them. Compared to all of their colors, he felt very grey.

He made attempts at flirting with men, but he had never been very good at that sort of thing and none of them seemed to notice. It didn't help that he knew, no matter how good he got at flirting, there was a part of that scene he'd never really belong in. By then he'd discovered that about himself, too, though strangely it was less of a revelation. He supposed some part of him had always known about that, as well.

His attraction to men, he found, was rarer than women, which might have been why he hadn't noticed it for so many years. It wasn't that he disliked men at all, he just found them harder to trust. With men there were certain expectations, of masculinity, of sexuality, of language, even, that Jon couldn't even begin to fathom. It was just easier, with women. He liked the way they spoke, and how they moved their hands as they talked, and all the various ways they'd wear their hair. He wasn't the sort to kiss many people, but when he did get the chance, he liked that their lips were soft and that they often smelled very fragrant.

Of course there were exceptions to all of these things, but in general, he found he was more comfortable with women. He worried, for a time, that perhaps he had internalized some sort of heteronormativity from his youth, that maybe liking men was just a frightening discovery about himself that he was still trying to process.

But liking men didn't frighten him at all. Maybe some men intimidated him, maybe he didn't feel entirely comfortable with some of them, but the idea of liking them was . . . it was nice. It made him feel sort of warm, when he thought of it. He'd daydream sometimes about kissing someone with a beard, or a larger hand holding his own.

He never got the chance to do anything like that in uni. He wouldn't get the chance for many years. Instead he sat quietly off to the side, in his grey little corner, hoping that someone would see him for who he was. It was, he would be the first to admit, a poor way of going about things, but at the time he wasn't sure what else to do. The idea of changing his wardrobe was already too much for him, let alone marching around with a flag in his hands. He wished there was some kind of secret code, known only by those who were like him.

Then he left uni, and suddenly all the colorful people he'd been surrounded by were gone, and the backdrop of his world felt as grey as he was. And that was fine. He was an adult now, he didn't need reassurance or external validation. It was fine.

He was working in research when he met Tim, and suddenly there was color back in his life. Tim was like the people he'd gone to uni with, loud and proud, with the hair and the clothes and everything else. He began to feel that strange longing again. I'm like you, he wanted to tell Tim, have you noticed? Can't you tell? He said nothing, of course. It would be weird to say something, and probably inappropriate.

But then a day came when Tim just . . . asked him. They were getting drinks with a few other coworkers and Tim leaned over and pointed out the bartender. He's cute, right? he'd asked. Are you into guys?

And he hadn't known it could be that easy. But it was. It was the easiest thing in the world to reply, Yeah, I like men. Women, too. And yes, he is sort of cute.

It was easy, but it felt unbelievably warm to say aloud.

It didn't change anything, not overnight. There was still that underlying greyness he felt, that invisibility, when he was on the train or standing by the copier or ordering from a restaurant. But with Tim, and then Sasha, and much, much later, with Martin, he felt noticed, and known.

He never did end up marching around with a flag, or changing his wardrobe. Instead he carried it with him constantly, in the feeling in his chest when he saw a pin on someone's bag and in the way Martin looked at him and in the way his coworkers laughed when he made dry little jokes about liking only two things.

Which made sense, didn't it? After all it had always been there, deep down. It had always been his. And it wasn't going anywhere.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes #i gotta post this before i convince myself not to lmao

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elena-reina · 4 years ago

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You’re Done - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: Can I get a bucky imagine where the reader messes up really badly on a mission, can she have fire powers, and bucky is there for her in the end. Maybe like a friends to lovers kind of vibe? Thank you! Love you!- Anon

Warnings: none

a/n: [For the sake of this imagine my bby Pietro is alive for his two seconds of fame ;)] There will be a pt 2. Idk when, but eventually.

“I need you all to lay low,” Steve’s voice spoke through the earpiece.

“Copy,” you along with the other Avengers said into the intercom in unison.

You have gone on many missions with the Avengers, however, this one was different. Most of the ones you’ve experienced were small track and point ones. Nothing like this where it was a life or death situation.

You had to capture one of the men named Azazel. He had vital information that was going to help the team out on a lead for the rest of the mission. You were a powerful asset to the team. The only issue was how much you underestimate yourself.

For weeks you had been training your powers and learning to keep them under control. There had been many incidents where you accidentally caused the sprinklers to go off at the tower for reasons we shall not speak of. But let’s just say they were all minor setbacks in your progress.

The team loved having you go on missions with them, but most of the time Steve wanted you to stay back at the tower and continue to train. You underestimate your powers and It took you many days to convince him to bring you on this specific mission. It wasn’t until you had a one on one with him that he finally gave in.

You had all the weight of the world on your shoulders. However, the adrenaline masked all the doubts running laps throughout your mind.

“I can see four of the guards standing by the door.. and I think a couple more on the other side of the building,” Wanda said slyly moving around the compound unseen.

“Could you at least try to make an effort to stay hidden,” Tony groaned, maneuvering around in the sky. “I can literally see your red head from here.”

“Listen Stark, you’d be caught long before I am,” Wanda smirked, sassily.

You softly chuckled to yourself.

“No, you listen Maximoff-” Tony began before Pietro cut him off.

“In all honesty, you’re not that witty Tony. Sorry, not sorry.”

“You know I don’t appreciate this slander on my title,” Tony mumbled.

While they bickered back and forth, you noticed one of the guards waving at the men to go inside the building. You ducked down when one of the men gave one last look around the area and went inside.

“They’re going inside,” you announced.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” Steve commenced going over the mission.

After listening to the entirety of Steve’s plan, you felt like there were some flaws in it. Naturally, you had your own plan in your head. Steve wanted everyone to go inside unnoticed and basically move around incognito. You, on the other hand, wanted to do it the old-fashioned way and all gang up together because there were more of you guys than there were of them. Or so you thought.

Sneaking inside the facility, you hid behind boxes and waited as Wanda and Pietro were the first ones to begin. Wanda would use her powers to mess with the men’s minds and make them fall asleep while Pietro would move their bodies to somewhere outside away from the rest of the Avengers. The building was old and looked like it could fall apart at any given moment.

Everything was going smoothly until one of the men, who had gone unnoticed by the rest of you, punched you harshly having you slam into the wall, sending an immediate alert to the people inside.

Clint and Natasha took awareness of this immediately and rushed by your side, but it was like the man had a vendetta on your head. He was overpowering all three of you and none of you understood how. Everyone was in full combat mode, and soon enough, almost a full army of them was coming out in groups. There was more of them than you thought there were.

Your fire powers were flowing out of your hand as you disintegrated any daggers or weapons they would try and throw your way. By this point, you were growing irritated and were having enough of this nonsense.

“Tell us where Azazel is!” you shouted holding one of the men up by the collar of his shirt. He smirked and pulled out a machine from the back of his pocket. You looked at it confused until you noticed a timer on it fastly counting down.

Your eyes widened.

“There’s a bomb in here!” you shouted into your earpiece.

“We’ll get this under control. Y/N, Bucky, and Clint get everyone out now!” Tony responded, already using his suit to find and defuse the bomb.

You were about to respond when you caught something out of the peripheral vision of your eye. You saw a door that was left cracked opened and decided to do a little digging for yourself. Looking around at the Avengers busy, you slipped away and entered the room. Silently closing the door, you moved behind a big crate to remain hidden.

Inside, you noticed a man dressed in all black with his back to you. You bet this was Azazel.

“Y/N, where are you!” Steve yelled into the earpiece.

You knew that you had to respond to Steve, but doing that would compromise your position. Without saying anything, you made a B-line towards the man.

“HEY!” you shouted, as who you assumed was Azazel, frighteningly looked up. He pushed boxes of glass out of his way and started to run. You weren’t going to leave him that easily and every place he tried to dodge into, you would blast up with your powers.

Picking up speed, you threw a firebolt at him hitting him in the back causing him to fall to the ground. You slowly sauntered over to him, a small triumphant grin on your face.

“Tell me what you know!” you fiercely shouted. Feeling bold, you had him exactly where you wanted. However, that confidence you once had faltered as his face then fell into a smirk. He pulled out a cylindrical device with a red button on top of it.

“Y/N! Do you copy!” Steve yelled again.

Ignoring Steve, you quickly extending your hand out to grab the device out of his hands but instead, you accidentally triggered your powers and blasted out an uncontrollable flame you’ve never seen or done before.

Azazel let out an excruciating scream of agony and the device slipped out of his hand. He was being burned alive.

“Oh no no no! What’s happening?!” you freaked, trying to get your powers under control. The flames emerged from your hands and began to consume everything within its path. It had a mind of its own and it was determined to burn everything to ashes.

Your screams rang throughout the room and Tony busted through the wall, frantically looking around. His eyes landed on you and the fire coming out of your palms.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Y/N STOP!” Tony yelled, wanting to get close enough to grab you, but the heat coming from the flames was too much, even for his suit. If anyone came close, they would have gotten burned as well. Pietro followed suit next to him.

You tried to stop them and bent down trying to grab onto Azazel, but this only made matter worse. It wasn’t until you felt a knife slice through the side of your arm, distracting you, that the fires coming from your hand died down.

You brought your hands up to your face horrified. His face and body were burned beyond recognition. You slumped to your knees and grabbed his lifeless corpse with one of your hands. His blood pooled out of his burnt clothes, coating your hands in warm crimson.

Looking further down his arm, you grabbed the device that was now barely holding together and looked at the odd wiring.

He was bluffing. It was a fake only to intimidate you.

“The bomb is going to go off! Everyone out-”

An ear-shattering explosion began to erupt throughout the facility before he could finish. For the most part, everyone was already on their way to the outside.

Pietro took awareness of you being out of it and quickly scooped you up into his arms and sped out of the exploding building. All of you had made it just in time before the entire building was already engulfed in flames. Pietro safely placed you down and grabbed onto your shoulders.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You nodded still shaken up.

“We almost fucking had him!” Tony exclaimed frustrated. “Let’s go.”

The ride back was silent. You had ruined the whole mission. You were mentally beating yourself up with a war inside your brain.

Why couldn’t you have just listened?

Back at the Avenger’s Tower, Steve ordered you to meet him at the office. You knew that whatever was coming wasn’t going to be good.

“Y/N, do you realize what you’ve just done?” Steve groaned, angrily placing his hands on the table in front of him. You looked around the room and at your hands that were covered in Azazel’s dried blood. You didn’t know that you were being set up. As a matter of fact, you didn’t even know that your powers had that much potential.

“I.. I didn’t mean to I was just-” you whispered, backing up to create some distance between you and Steve.

“You ruined the whole mission, Y/N! I told you that you were not ready!” he snapped, making your head jerk towards his direction. You opened your mouth to form words, but nothing came out. If you would have just had a moment to collect your thoughts, you would be better at articulating yourself.

“If you would just let me explain myself!” you shouted growing frustrated with overwhelming emotion, you felt your body getting hot. Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to calm the fire inside of you, quite literally.

Steve placed his hands on his hips and disapprovingly shook his head.

“You’re done.”

Your chest felt like it plummetted twenty feet underground. Despite the fire running through you, you felt your body grow cold. You had been training countless nights just to get where you are. There were so many things you wanted to say, while at the same time, you had nothing to say.

What was there to say anyway?

“What?” you managed to breathe out.

“Just go, Y/N.”

Steve then walked past you, leaving you standing in the middle of the complex. You clenched your fists and turned on your heel. You needed to get out. To blow off some steam before you burned the whole building down.

You rushed down the stairs, down every elevator, and all the way down to the empty field in front of the Avenger’s Tower near the aircraft. You felt the flames wanting to come out of your hands, but you tried your best to suppress them. Frantically looking around, you finally spotted a metal storage container.

Running inside, you shut the door and dropped to your knees finally letting the flames ignite. You cried your feelings out, this time not holding back. The flames engulfed the entire space.

A small part of you was fearful about not being able to contain it, but you knew you had to let it go. No one in this compound listens to you. It’s like they just want to keep you here to stay out of the way.

Was it for your benefit or theirs?

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts, but you didn’t bother to turn around. Not that it would have mattered at this point. After releasing your emotions, you took a cold shower to cool off before coming back to your room at the Tower. The tower seemed empty. There was a stale stillness in the air that could be cut with a knife.

You couldn’t help but feel that everything was your fault. If you had just been able to stop underestimating yourself, maybe things would have happened differently. Or if you would have maybe just trained a bit more.

The door clicked signifying that someone was entering your room.

“Hey, mind if I come in?”

You turned around, lifting your gaze as your eyes fell on the handsome soldier before turning back around to face the window. There was nothing to be said. You and Bucky had always had this unspoken bond since the day you joined the Avengers. Whenever you were having a bad day, he was always there to talk about it and vice versa. Was there more underneath the surface than the two of you would like to acknowledge? Yes.

You watched as the trees flowed in the wind looking as peaceful as it could be, the opposite of how you were feeling.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He closed the door behind him and trudged next to you. He pulled up a chair and sat down, mirroring your actions by gazing outside the window.

“What’s there to talk about?” you dismissed.

“No one is blaming you,” he said, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Oh really,” you mumbled, “I’m sure Steve would beg to differ.”

Gossip spreads like wildfire throughout the Tower and there was no way that anyone was going to be oblivious to what was going on. There was no easy way to sugar coat it. You fucked up and Steve knew this would happen. It’s plain and simple.

“Steve is just upset right now and will get over it. The mission was already a work in progress, to begin with. I don’t know exactly what went down, but your powers are stronger than you realize and with just a little bit more training-”

“Stop!” you shouted, standing up. Your chair fell behind you with a loud thud. Bucky jerked his head at your outburst but remained seated. He knew you were overwhelmed and wasn’t going to invalidate how you were feeling.

“No one listens to me! I was doing what I thought was right! I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. It doesn’t matter how much ‘training’ I do, no one is there to help me!”

“And you have every right to feel that way. No one is blaming you, things happen. We live and we learn. It a part of life, Y/N. I recognize that I will never understand the struggles you are going through, but I can try.”

“Don’t patronize me, Buck,” you frowned. Truth be told, you just wanted someone to appreciate you.

This time, he stood up and placed both hands on either side of your shoulders. “I’m not. Look, how about we go out tonight to get your mind off things. Then, when you’re feeling better, we can discuss a plan to talk it out with the rest of the team.”

“They’re not going to listen to me.”

“I’ll make sure they listen, okay? Now, go get dressed before I dress you myself. You’ve got thirty minutes,” he winked pulling you in for a hug, to which you gladly returned.

Maybe you do need a night out.

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solomonish · 4 years ago

Text

breathe deep, breathe clear, and know that i'm here (solomon x reader)

When the tendrils of doubt start to wrap around you, how do you battle them when your new state of existence is entirely unknown?

ao3 link here!

CW: F!MC

When Solomon finally found her stumbling through the enchanted woods in a daze, he considered scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the forest, never to return. Every second spent away from her sent a sharp fear through his chest. Immortal as she was, she was not indestructible, and the creatures inhabiting the woods could be unexpectedly dangerous. Even with the experiences she's had with magic, there was so much she didn't know - there was so much ignorance that could still kill her.

Instead, he settled for running to her and holding her close, tucking her into himself tightly as if trying to force their bodies to meld. He could feel her tense, then relax, tremors taking over that he knew better than to comment on. As her shoulders heaved, Solomon couldn't tell if they were sobs or gasps for breath, but he rubbed her back soothingly anyway. Eventually, her hands weakly found purchase in the back of his shirt, and he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

Solomon didn't pull back until he was absolutely sure she had calmed down, and even then he took her hands in his and rubbed his thumb over Lucifer's ring. She was here, and as long as it was still on, everything was fine. Everything was fine.

Except everything was not fine. She insisted on staying in the woods until Solomon found the roots he was looking for, even after his protests and offers to leave. They walked hand-in-hand until nightfall, slowly traversing the uneven ground and looking for the small, purple flowers that marked their targets. They prepared to leave the forest with a sizable bundle of the plants, and as they crossed the final bridge, Solomon noticed MC stop and stare out over the ravine. The long shadows cast seemed to swirl with the unnatural fog settled within the cliffsides, so dark even the full moon couldn't permeate it. As silent tears streamed down her cheeks, he noticed those that fell, could.

"When will you get tired of me?" She asked, her voice small and shaking. The way she watched the fig beneath her, Solomon wondered if she thought it would swallow her whole, or maybe even hoped it would.

"What do you mean?" Tentatively, he inched closer to her. The simple suspension bridge swayed with his movement, but she didn't seem to mind.

"How many things have you gotten bored of before? How many pacts do you no longer call upon? Even some magic can't capture your attention sometimes." The sadness in her tone was palpable the more she spoke, eventually straining her voice so she could hardly push the words out. Solomon had heard pain in the voices of many, but it never hurt as much as it did to hear from her.

Telling her how many of his pacts were one-time necessities or formed more as an impulse for more power seemed in poor taste. How many of his pacts did he make, knowing he wouldn't need them? How many demons were tethered to him, knowing they would never be called on by him again yet having to be ready just in case? Swallowing past the lump growing in his throat, he kept the questions to himself lest she think he'd ever string her along in the same way.

Of course she'd imagine magic to be boring for him when he's spent so long studying it. Even the more complicated, dazzling spells were familiar to him. But magic was ever-changing, and he was always finding something new about it to explore. Besides, he could never grow bored of magic when she was around to excite him.

Solomon didn't know how to articulate his thoughts. He just knew that he loved her, and he loved her so deeply it hurt. With still nothing coming to mind, he stayed silent. Oh, how he wished he had said something, anything to get her mind off of her own thoughts, just to share himself the heartache of hearing what she had to say. When she opened her mouth, she spoke with more conviction, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes and yet not a quiver in her voice.

"I can't think of anything I have that'll get you to want to stay."

The breath in Solomon's throat hitched for a moment. With her eyes searching his, he felt something like a criminal, knowing he had done something wrong and forced to wait for a punishment he knew would be inevitable. His silence seemed the trial, and after a moment, her face fell and she looked away. Caught between wanting to bring her gaze back to him so he could repent and not wanting to see her desolate face, Solomon only stood in place dumbly.

Giving a bitter laugh, she shrugged as if she could shake off her burdens. "I mean, you shouldn't have to pick up everyone else's discarded pieces. And against angels and demons, and even other sorcerers, I really don't compare."

Hadn't he thought something similar? During the exchange program, when he realized he was one of what seemed like a thousand people competing for her affections, he thought he knew how it would play out. He wasn't a demon, who's hulking form, unnatural charm and eerie good looks could haunt her for her entire life. He wasn't an angel that could offer her paradise and unquestionable love. All he was was barely human, the only pieces of himself she could ever like hidden behind centuries of masks and non-answers.

When she chose him, took his hand proudly in front of all the brothers and defended her choice, he thought for sure his starstruck face and the brothers' envious stares were enough to drive home how intensely her attention was sought after. But to hear her worry over the same things - to wonder if she was replaceable when he was the one with ten people lining up behind him, ten people he knew would never let her go - was enough to force his heart to crack right down the middle.

"I'm not built for immortality, Solomon." Looking down, she fiddled with the ring on her finger as two teardrops fell on the back of her hand. He could hear despair gripping her, and he felt powerless to battle it away. "I don't want to do this alone."

Finally, he felt he could move and he took her in his arms again, holding her close to him protectively. Though he knew it to be impossible, he hoped he could block any more doubts from finding their way to her, as if his arms alone could be a shield. As he looked over her shoulder, he saw the many spirits weaving between the trees, curiously watching the intruders on their home from behind the branches. He swore he saw something else behind a trunk, watching with satisfaction as MC shook in his arms - though he had half a mind to charge forward and destroy it for daring to take pleasure in her pain, not a fiber in his being wanted to separate himself from her. Instead, he shut his eyes and buried his face in her hair, rubbing her back in an attempt at soothing her.

"You won't be alone," he promised as the more important words got caught in his throat.

Solomon understood her fear and the creeping feeling of being replaceable. It was only natural when you thought you had to live on such a short time limit. Time felt limited, like there was none to spare for falling in love or mourning the loss of anyone. He understood feeling as if he had to scramble from person to person in fear the time may slip away, and he knew how it felt to worry others may do that to you. He had 72 pacts and a collection of scorned lovers to prove it.

People were not replaceable, and they were never boring. Each person Solomon has ever loved has remained trapped in his heart, and humans had a desire to remember every person they've ever loved even beyond their years on earth. He wasn't sure how to tell her that she would never grow boring to him - that she would continue to evolve, because the very nature of her human being didn't change with her immortality. It was a fact he found difficult to accept himself, but people evolved continuously, even after a thousand years. Those who only live out their typical lifespan just don't have enough time to see it.

But his own stagnation compared to the world made him yearn for something, anything that might stay. MC wasn't entirely unfounded in her fears; the world would leave her behind, family and friends would be ripped from her and she'd have eternity to grapple with the pain. But Solomon knew he could never leave her - that even if she did die, he would carry her with him for eternity

MC was everything he could ever think to hope for. It would just take time for her to figure it out, and they both had all the time in the world. He would stick by her side while she sorted things out, and he would stay there for the rest of time after. But for now, he held her tightly, hoping it was enough of a signal that he was here to stay.

#obey me #obey ne shall we date #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #swd solomon #obey me swd #swd obey me #solomon #mine

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typhos-c-dragon · 4 years ago

Note

perhabs,, early relationship, Paul wanting affection but being anxious and not knowing how to go about it?

Ceej, you understand me and my Paul hcs on a spiritual level, thank you for my rights and an excuse to write soft nonsense. It's uh... It's a little long.

Being in an honest-to-god romantic relationship was taking a bit of re-getting used to for Paul. He hadn't dated anyone since college, and suddenly wham, he's head over heels for a cute, snarky barista who seems to return his affections. It was odd, but no less wonderful, feeling his heart flutter in his chest whenever Emma so much as smiled at him. He hadn't felt this way about someone in damn near a decade, and then this beautiful 5'0 biology student walked into his life, and god, his brain just didn't know how to handle it.

Paul and Emma had started seeing each other around late October, hooking up in the Beanies break room during a Halloween party her boss Nora had thrown. It was mid-December now, a week and a half before Christmas, and things were still going strong between them. Though there had been... something strange on Paul's mind for a few weeks now, something that had never bothered him before in his past relationships.

Paul was a tactile guy with people he liked, something his friends all knew well. He was never sure exactly how he'd rank the five love languages as applied to himself, but touch was definitely his number one. Casual shoulder squeezes and light nudges were common gestures of his among friends, as Bill could easily attest. With romantic partners, this was cranked up a bit. Lots of light kisses to their temple or resting his hand on their back, stuff like that. It was always the easiest way for him to show that he cared. His partners... were never as tactile as him. It was very all give and no take on Paul's end when it came to physical affection, and he hadn't really minded it. At least, he was pretty sure he hadn't...

But now? With Emma? Her touch was something he actively craved. And it's not as if Emma never touched him outside of sex, far from it, she was probably the most physically affectionate partner Paul had ever had. She held his hand, kissed his cheek, cuddled up against him during movie nights, and gave him playful little jabs in the side when he was being a smartass. But she wasn't quite as casually affectionate as Paul was with her, and he couldn't help but wish she was.

And sweet jesus christ, did Paul find it embarrassing. It made him feel like some dopey lovesick teenager whenever he thought about it. Like, what was he supposed to do? Ask her to touch him more often? He'd sound like a total fucking weirdo if he tried to explain it to her. But still, he couldn't help but think about it a lot.

It had been a lazy Sunday evening, the one day of the week when neither half of the couple had work. And of course, they were... taking advantage of their day off, as it were. On Paul's living room couch, no less. They'd just finished up, and Emma had gone off to use his shower and whatnot. After washing up a bit, Paul had promptly put some comfy sleepwear on (because it was December in Michigan and Paul was not one to lounge around in the nude with temperatures like that outside), and was now absentmindedly channel surfing whilst laying on the couch.

Nearly half an hour later, Emma had emerged from the bathroom, hair tied into a braid and clad in a bright red hoodie that Paul recognized as his own. He couldn't help but smile, it was so big on her, and she looked adorable in it.

"Find anything to watch while I was in there?" she asked.

"Hallmark movies, a bunch of stock Christmas faire, and like three separate Harry Potter marathons," Paul replied. "None of which I'm particularly interested in watching, so we might have to retreat to the DVD shelf again."

Emma shrugged. "Hey, fine by me, TV edits are usually garbage fires anyway," she said. She strode over to the other side of the living room, where Paul kept his DVDs, and eyed the shelf. After a minute or two, she plucked a case off the shelf, snickering. "Monty Python: Life of Brian, that's a Christmas movie, right?"

"Absolutely," Paul quipped. "Anything can be a Christmas movie if you stretch the definition enough."

"Good, because I wanna watch Monty Python."

After popping the disk in, she turned back to the couch, and Paul sat up to give her some room. As she sat back down, Paul took in the sight of her. God, she was lovely. And she looked so cozy in his hoodie, it was hard not to find the sight of her absolutely heart-melting. His heart fluttered a bit, he was getting that feeling again. Unfortunately, Paul found himself staring at her instead of the screen for a bit too long, and she took notice.

"Paul?" she piped up, snapping him out of his trance with a befuddled smile. "You good, babe?"

Paul felt his cheeks flush. Had she ever called him "babe" before? "It's, uh... it's nothing," he stammered unconvincingly. "I just zoned out for a bit."

Emma, being the observant person she was, eyed him with skepticism. "You look like you have something on your mind," she noted. "What's up?"

Well, shit. Feeling his face burn hotter, Paul attempted to weasel himself out of this inevitable awkward conversation.

"N-nothing's up, I'm fine!" he tried to assure her, perhaps too defensively to sound convincing.

"That's the voice of a man who definitely has something up," Emma observed. She grabbed the remote, and paused the film before continuing. "Something's bothering you, Paul, I can tell."

"It-it's just..." Paul tried to begin, feeling momentarily reassured by Emma's soft gaze. But when the right words wouldn't come to him, he groaned and buried his flushing face in his hands. God, why was he like this? "Nevermind, it's really stupid, can we just watch the movie, please?"

"Paul, I know stupid, I work at Beanies," Emma retorted playfully, earning a brief chuckle from Paul. "Whatever's bothering you, it can't be any worse than the shit my co-workers complain about on the daily. I promise you I won't laugh."

Paul removed his hands from his face, meeting her gentle gaze once more. "You mean it?"

She nodded. "I'm all ears."

Exhaling a deep breath, Paul took a moment to think of how to word his self-imposed predicament in the least stupid way possible. Probably best to start small.

"Um, y'know how... when we watch movies or whatever together," he began, trying to force himself to talk above a whisper. "You'll like, lean against my chest, and I'll wrap my arms around you and play with your hair and all that?"

Emma nodded, looking somewhat confused. "Yeah...?"

"Do you think we could... do that the other way around this time?"

There was a brief moment of silence, and Paul was pretty sure his face had turned a shade of red that had only ever been seen by shrimp before. Jesus, that must've sounded so stupid.

"That's all?" Emma asked.

Yep, there it was. Paul looked down at his lap again, embarrassed beyond belief. "Basically, yeah..." he chuckled despite himself. "I know, I know, it's really dumb, and I probably got you all worried for nothing-"

"Whoa, whoa, Paul, slow down!" Emma cut him off, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him softly. "I mean, sure! If that's what you want, we can do it!"

Paul took another deep breath. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Emma replied. She leaned back on the arm of the couch, and opened her arms. "Come on, bring it in."

Still nervous and flustered, Paul slowly eased himself against Emma, resting his head against her chest. He could feel her heartbeat, even through the thick fabric of the hoodie. Emma rested one hand on his back, and began to thread her fingers through his hair, just like he would do with her. Paul felt a chill go down his spine. God, he forgot how much he loved having his hair stroked. He wrapped his arms around her torso, face still flushing like nobody's business.

"How's that?" Emma asked, undoubtedly noticing the ridiculous smile that had forced itself onto his face.

"Wonderful..." he sighed, finally beginning to calm down a bit. "Thanks, Emma."

"No prob," Emma snickered, still stroking his hair. "But before we un-pause the movie, can I ask why it was such an ordeal for you to ask me about this?"

"It's kinda hard to articulate," Paul explained, adjusting himself so that he wasn't muffled by the hoodie. "My, um... my past partners weren't really the, uh... the affectionate kinda types, y'know? So it just kinda felt weird to ask you to... do this... I guess..."

"...Well," Emma began after a moment's pause. "I'm not your past partners, so I'd be more than happy to do this more often."

"You would?" Paul inquired hopefully.

"If it makes you feel as loved as it makes me feel," Emma said, rubbing a calming circle between his shoulder blades with her thumb. "Then I'll do it anytime."

Paul could've melted right then and there. He was loved... In a somewhat indirect way, Emma said she loved him. Perhaps now was the time...

"Thanks again, Em," he said, slightly choked up. He craned his neck a bit to press a kiss to her neck. "I, um... I love you."

Emma briefly paused in her stroking of his hair, only to resume moments later, and press a kiss to his forehead.

"I... I love you too, Paul."

#hatchetfield #paulkins

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thatsassyhufflepuff · 4 years ago

Text

Hello!

It is currently past midnight. I decided to make a post where I’d put all my favorite Dramione quotes so I can look back on them and squeal. That’s all.

✨✨✨

1. “You love fighting with me just as I love fighting with you, that’s why we do it so well.” He smirked down at her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “This house is just as much yours as it is mine, I’m sorry I made you feel anything less than that.” His thumb traced the edges of her lips before she reached up and took his hand in hers.”

2. “Hey, hey, none of that.” He gently admonished, “Granger, I can’t tell you whether or not we moved in too soon. I can say that this feels right, waking up with you, going to bed with you, even cleaning up all the hair you shed in the shower- how are you not bald? I am convinced your hair has magical properties all on its own-'' He grunted when she smacked him in the side. “What I mean is Granger, I want you for a long time, longer than I’ve ever wanted anyone else if I’m being honest. I’d have been kidding myself if I thought falling in love with a swotty pain in the arse Gryffindor would’ve been easy.”

Transformation

happy_valley

—

1. “Expecting a challenge--some tired but emphatic refusal to take Muggle medicine--I braced myself for the inevitable argument. He turned his head to my hand resting on his shoulder, kissed a knuckle, and went back to sleep.

I didn't stop shaking until I reached the Boots.”

2. “and given how I feel about you, you'd think I'd do everything in my power to ruin your marriage. Having him believe it was you acting on his behalf, seizing an opportunity that was tailor-made for him will not get me what I want. Sadly, the opposite is also true. I know you don't believe me, but I actually thought making him happy would make you happy.”

3. “I am not most women," I pointed out. "Hence the slapping."

"No, I admit they broke the mold when they made you. That's why I'm absolutely madly in love with you. Head over heels. Dizzy with desire. Crazy--”

4. “He shrugged and his mouth flattened into a line. "It's been a grim few months. I'm only human. Have I told you that I love it when you're stern with me? Your mouth gets all prissy and adorable. Like you've eaten a sweet lemon. A silly metaphor but somehow apt." He pursed his lips”

5. “Someday I hope you'll look at me, and I won't see that half-second of disgust with which your gaze always greets me. Anyway, it's not true. I want you because I love you.”

6. “He kissed me on the forehead and then despite his previous admission, he wrapped me in an embrace, his breath hot against my ear. "I love you. I know you don't believe me, but I do. And aside from the fact you are beautiful and smart and articulate and sexy, most importantly, you're the only person I know who has the guts and determination to stop me from becoming my father."

The Politician's Wife

pir8fancier

—

1. “After what felt like a lifetime and at the same time a split second, they parted, gazing into one another’s eyes with the passion they both felt. Hermione’s eyes implored him to say what she wanted him to say – that this wasn’t the end, that they would have another chance, that he wouldn’t give up – but he couldn’t lie to her. He would never lie to her.”

2. “Hermione just stared at the floor, biting her lip and feeling as though every dream she had ever had had been crushed. Maybe it had. “I wanted to save you,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. “I wanted to save you.”

Draco stepped forward, taking one moment more to touch her face with the back of his hand and memorize the deep brown of her eyes. “You did,” he said simply.

And there was no more to be said”

3. “Draco didn’t let her finish. His hands cradled her head as he kissed her, softly as first just like the night before, and then harder, with more passion and intensity. She returned the kiss with everything in her might, trying to say what she wanted to say – “I love you” – without words”

4. “She wasn’t going to give up though. Hope was in front of her now, and she had almost been afraid that such a thing was lost to her forever. Draco may have given up on saving himself, but Hermione wasn’t about to do the same. She loved him – that she knew for sure – and she was going to make sure Draco got his second chance.

She’d die before she let anything tell her otherwise.”

5. “I’m not leaving without you,” she said firmly. He didn’t reply, just set his mouth in a firm line. She wished she could make him feel what she felt – a certainty that this wasn’t the end for him, that she was going to fight until her last breath to give him the freedom he had suffered for. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to cradle his face in her hands and tell him that they would make it to the end together.

“This is your time, Hermione,” he said, reaching out and taking one of her hands in both of his. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“It’s your time, too,” she said, and she hoped she sounded as confident as she felt. “This is your second chance.”

6. “Draco gave her an imploring look, gripping her upper arms and forcing her to look right into his eyes. “Hermione, you know how I feel. I’ve never told you, but you must know. So when I tell you that dying for you and your cause and my cause is the closest I’ll ever get to being whole again, believe me.” He paused, reaching his hand up to push the straggling bangs out of Hermione’s eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Hermione Granger, and I can never thank you enough. So just let me help you in the only way I know how.”

7. “Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she quickly reached up to pull Draco into her arms. He held onto her tightly, trying to memorize every detail of her for the last time. When they pulled away, Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked into her warm brown eyes. There’s never enough time for us.”

8. “You may not have forgiven yourself,” Hermione whispered to him, laying her face against his shoulder as he shook with sobs. “But we already have. One day, you’ll learn to see yourself the way we do.”

Bittersweet and Strange

UndiscoveredQueen19

—

“Hermione, I love you." She didn't smile, she didn't say anything back either. She just kept looking up at him. He wondered she even heard him. He knew it was wrong to say it in this moment, but he didn't know if either of them would survive. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now. But I love you. So much." He kissed her forehead.”

A Future Uncertain

LightsWrites

—

“Suddenly, Draco laughed, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Well, I guess it’s the least I owe you.”

He leaned closer to her, looking straight into her eyes, and she suddenly felt the urge to draw back and run away. She made herself sit still.

“I love you, Hermione. I think I have for a long time,”

Seven Years and a Day

Dark Rose

—

“She was half expecting him to just walk through the door but Draco surprised her when he suddenly turned around and returned to her side. She lifted an eyebrow but before she could say anything, Draco drew her into a hug.

“Goodnight.” His whisper tickled her ear.

She could barely return his hug when Draco pulled away with an impish grin. She knew he knew she was going to think of him for the rest of the night. ‘Darn it. Bloody Draco Malfoy.”

A cornucopia of noncoincidences

muffin_reverie

—

“Draco..." She felt a little uneasy.

"I love you." He had said it before, but the words had never sounded so fierce. "I won't let him hurt you.”

Alternate History

Furare

—

“You’re beautiful and compassionate and funny and… I know you probably hear it all the time but you’re brilliant and I plan on telling you that every bloody day. You make me want to buy a shop and sell potions and make my own way in this world doing something I love and something I excel at, but it’s more than that it’s… it’s…”

She waited him out.

“It’s bells on a hill with you, Granger.”

Bells on a Hill

HeyJude19

—

1. “Draco opened the door the rest of the way and pulled her into his arms; he held her tightly as if he would never let her go, as if he could push all the hurt away. She could feel his heart beating and its constant rhythm soothed her, as did the steady rise and fall of his chest. Gradually her sobs slowed, then stopped. She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.

"Do you want us to stay?" he asked quietly. She shook her head, and he tilted her chin so their gaze met. "Hermione, will you be okay today? Tell me the truth. I hate that we're leaving you alone today."

She looked into his eyes and saw deep concern and worry. "Yes," she said weakly. "Thank you."

Draco wrapped her in his arms again, then released her and leaned down and kissed her forehead. "See you soon." He turned and left her standing there before he lost the ability and the resolve to leave.”

2. “Harry scrunched his nose in distaste. "How can you watch that rubbish?"

"It's actually really good, Potter."

"Whatever." Harry studied Hermione. She looked so peaceful that it hurt him to think of what was ahead for her, for all of them, really. "She's beautiful."

Draco looked at her as well, and without thinking about what he was doing, said, "Yeah, she is.”

3. “Hermione scowled and continued to hit him, but stopped yelling. Draco carried her into the house, up the stairs, and into her room. He set her down on the bed. She tried to get up; he grabbed her wrists and held her down.

She struggled, but when she looked into Draco's eyes, she saw they were wet. She lay still, holding his gaze.

"Don't make me Immobilize you."

She nodded. He released her wrists and took one of her hands in his. "I promise to come back, if you promise to stay," he said softly.”

4. “He kissed her with everything he had, all the fear, longing, pain, and joy he felt. He kissed her because he was scared to die, and he too wanted to see where this would go. He kissed her because of the secrets he kept from her, willing her to trust him, to believe him, to know that he would tell her. He told her he loved her, he would do anything for her, would die for her, would even try to live for her.”

We Learned the Sea

floorcoaster

—

1. “You are mine, Hermione, I don’t want anyone mistaking you for single again or even thinking of trying to coax you away from me.” He laid his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Granger…Hermione…I love you.”

2. “The look of shock on her face matched his own. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even realized that he had those feelings for her, that he would recognize them as such. He was in unfamiliar waters and suddenly scared to death. He meant them, he loved her, and it terrified him because he had never loved anyone before.”

Something In the Way She Moves

Snapes_Godess

—

“Draco leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and nuzzled her nose.

“Take it. Take my heart, and take the remainder of my soul as well. You can even filet my heart and crush my soul if you wish. It doesn’t matter, since in actuality, they’ve probably been already yours to break for a very long time.”

5 am, waking up

mysterious_intentions

—

“The deflated bits of his countenance inflated with her admission, until he felt as though he would float through the air. Moving his hands along the curves of her sides, he pulled her flush against his chest. "I love you, Hermione."

The admission left him in a single breath, causing Hermione to arch her back so that she could look him in the eye. She searched his depths, seemingly inspecting for any sign of deception. Finding none, a smile spread across her face. "I love you, too.”

I Carry Your Heart

TheMourningMadam

—

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco fluff #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #dramione #draco x hermione

69 notes · View notes

plentyghosts · 4 years ago

Text

New Clothes and Promises Made

Summary: S.Q. had not straightened his hair for some time now. Since his father's arrest and moving in with Mr. Benedict, he simply hadn’t had the time. He was adapting to life in Mr. Benedict’s house and processing everything that happened, so his appearance had fallen to the wayside. Now his dark hair curled gently over his forehead, occasionally falling in his eyes, only to be clipped back absentmindedly by Rhonda when she spotted him continuously tucking it behind his ears. He used to straighten it every morning, under his father's instruction. ‘Appearance is everything, S.Q., do you understand me? Everything.’ He’d say. That sentiment had been one of the many that stuck, repeating like a mantra in his brain throughout the day, as he went through each of the twenty-four hours just as he was expected to.

Content Warnings: none

Edit: fixed some spelling errors i noticed (after posting 😔)

ao3 link

S.Q. had not straightened his hair for some time now. Since his father's arrest and moving in with Mr. Benedict, he simply hadn’t had the time. He was adapting to life in Mr. Benedict’s house and processing everything that happened, so his appearance had fallen to the wayside. Now his dark hair curled gently over his forehead, occasionally falling in his eyes, only to be clipped back absentmindedly by Rhonda when she spotted him continuously tucking it behind his ears. He used to straighten it every morning, under his father's instruction. ‘Appearance is everything, S.Q., do you understand me? Everything.’ He’d say. That sentiment had been one of the many that stuck, repeating like a mantra in his brain throughout the day, as he went through each of the twenty-four hours just as he was expected to. S.Q. bit the inside of his lip as he examined himself in the mirror.

A harsh purple was smudged beneath each of his eyes, indicative of another issue he was having. Nightmares were not new to him, but they had certainly never occurred with this much frequency. He’d been doing a fine job at hiding it, he didn’t want to bother anyone after all, but these dark circles might give him away. He sighed. There wasn’t much to be done about it. His clothes and his hair, however, he could fix. So that morning, he straightened it again, burning himself a few times in the process. He swept his hair aside as he usually did and fixed his collar. There, much better. He imagined his fathers approving voice- a tone he rarely heard from him- the first time he had dressed himself.

He had been five, starting to develop more independent thought, and therefore wanting to dress himself. He had done well enough. Though, that hadn’t stopped his father from making minute adjustments, as he was always inclined to do. S.Q. shoved that memory aside when he felt a lump forming in his throat. ‘Don’t be silly’ he scolded himself internally ‘he was awful, you shouldn’t be missing him. What would the others think of you? If they knew you were longing for such a bad man?’ He took a deep, cleansing breath (something Kate had taught him) and stepped out of the washroom.

He made his way downstairs, bidding good morning to the others he passed until he came to the kitchen. Mr. Benedict sat with a cup of coffee in hand and a book laid on the table in front of him. He looked up as S.Q. entered the kitchen, and did a small double-take when he saw that his hair had been straightened. He smiled, but his eyes held something akin to sadness. S.Q. felt suddenly embarrassed, and instinctively, he went to tuck his hair behind his ear. He cleared his throat. “Good morning S.Q., did you sleep well?” Mr. Benedict asked. Though S.Q. was sure Mr. Benedict already knew the answer he lied anyway.

“I slept well” He said. The other kids joined them soon, and they were all seated at the table to eat breakfast. Number Two and Milligan had cooked that morning. They’d made pancakes, something S.Q. found he enjoyed very much. Sweet food had not exactly been commonplace for him on the island. He could count on one hand the number of times his father had indulged his childish longing for something sweet. Those had all been on days his father was in a particularly good mood. Usually, it was due to something with his work going well. Those memories were soured now with the knowledge of what it was his father had been so happy about.

Breakfast passed with zero incident, aside from Constance nailing Sticky in the side of the head with a piece of pancake, and after it was over, Rhonda announced that they were going to head into Stonetown that morning. There was a murmur of excitement through the table, all of the kids raising questions about why and when. S.Q. was more reserved, just listening to it all happened. He liked the idea of seeing the town. He had spent a lot of time wondering about it from his room in the institute. Or looking out at it from the copper waves, where he could sit and see the outline of the belltower in the distance. Though the prospect of seeing Stonetown was fun, he did worry. His father had raised him on the belief that the outside world was unruly and uncontrolled. And to a certain extent that was true, but in that truth, there was some good. Moments of bonding and light-heartedness, the kind which could come from nowhere else but an uncontrolled world. But that also meant large crowds and lots of noise, something S.Q. was still adjusting to.

“It’s almost winter, which means everyone is in need of some winter clothes. We’re going out to get just that.” Rhonda explained, with slightly raised hands to keep more questions from rising. This did not stem the children's excitement, they had plenty more questions. In lieu of an answer, Rhonda sent them all to get dressed and ready to go. All the children were soon running off to their rooms to get dressed. All except S.Q., who had changed out of pajamas right after he’d woken. A habit his father had instilled in him. ‘No sense in waiting, S.Q., you never know.’ his father’s voice rang in his head again, interrupted by Mr. Benedict.

“How are you feeling this morning S.Q.?” he asked. S.Q. was caught slightly off guard by the question. He had never been particularly good at putting his feelings into words- well, no that wasn’t quite the right way to put it. He knew just how to articulate them, to an extent, the issue was that he’d seldom been asked about his feelings. Specifically the negative ones. His own negative emotions (he was plenty familiar with his father's) had always been foreign to him in a way. They were not a part of him, but rather a beast that lingered in the shadows. Something he was encouraged to ignore or, if he couldn’t do the former, try to conquer. He was not familiar with them, and therefore not prepared when people asked him about them. It felt like trying to explain the plot of a book he had never read.

“Oh, well... I’m doing alright. Just had an early morning, so I’m a little tired.” That was an answer he was good at giving. He was just tired. That was the crutch he fell on for a lot of emotions. And while it was half-true, his tiredness may have been the source of some stress, it was not the main problem. It was simply a branch on a larger tree. That was how S.Q. typically looked at his emotional turmoil; like a tree with winding and extending branches. It had taken him a while to understand that his father was the one who had planted the seed of this tree. That he was the roots.

Mr. Benedict tilted his head (S.Q. grimaced. So familiar, but so different.) and nodded with genuine patience. There was no pretense of intrigue there, he really was interested in what S.Q. had to say. He set down his coffee cup and stood “Well, I don’t believe you have a proper coat, which you’ll need for today. Why don’t we go look in the main hall closet?” S.Q. nodded and stood, finishing the last of his orange juice as he went.

They walked to the main hall and Mr. Benedict went through the closet housing all the old jackets and boots while S.Q. stood to the side, watching with the keen feeling that maybe he should have been helping. He shifted on his feet. “Do you nee-”

“Ah! Here we go” Mr. Benedict stepped out from the closet, brushing some dust half-heartedly from his shoulder. He held up the coat. It was Tarrytown green and looked rather big for S.Q., but he wasn’t going to complain. ‘Remember’ he reminded himself ‘you’re only here because Mr. Benedict allows you to be. Which means no complaining’. Besides, when he put the coat on, it was rather comfortable. Even if the sleeves fell past his wrist and covered his hands. Effectively giving him sleeve paws (and possibly a weapon if he pulled his hands in more.) When zipped all the way the collar came right up to his chin, so he only zipped it up to his collarbone. The kids came down the stairs as S.Q. was pulling on his boots.

Kate wasted no time in pulling on her own boots, not long after she had come barreling down the stairs then she was all ready to go, encouraging the boys to get ready quickly so they could go out. Reynie laughed good-naturedly at Kate's excitement as he laced up his boots and Sticky pulled on his jacket. Constance, meanwhile, was struggling to zip up her coat, Rhonda eventually came over to help her. Kate turned to S.Q. and her smile faltered for a moment, not out of sadness, but something akin to mild surprise, it was back just as quickly. “Hey, that’s Milligan’s coat!” she said. “Makes you look like a mini-Milligan” Here, she gasped and her eyes lit up “A minigan!” she cried, punching S.Q.’s shoulder affectionately. S.Q. grimaced (somehow he managed to turn it into a smile) and rubbed his arm.

Soon, everyone was ready to go (Kate was practically vibrating with energy), and Rhonda, Number Two, Milligan, and Ms. Perumal were ushering them out the door. They split into two cars. Number Two, Rhonda, Ms. Perumal, Reynie, and Constance in one. And Milligan, Kate, Sticky, and S.Q. in another. Mr. Benedict chose to stay home that day, along with Mrs. Perumal. The drive to Stonetown was not long, and yet, S.Q. found himself growing rather tired. He was pressed against the window, his cheek resting on the ledge, the cool windowpane firm against his forehead. His eyes slipped closed.

The details of his dream were already fading when he felt someone waking him. He startled slightly as he awoke, the image of his dad still vivid behind his eyelids. But it was not his father's hand on his shoulder shaking him into the land of the living. It was just Milligan. S.Q. rubbed his eyes and sat up, stifling a yawn. “We’re here,” Milligan said. And sure enough, when S.Q. turned his head to look out the window, he could see the rest of the group standing outside the car, waiting for him. Kate was bouncing on her toes, looking as though she might start cartwheeling at any moment. Kate seemed very much like a shark to S.Q., in perpetual movement, as though she might die if she stopped for even a second. She was all about momentum and he had kept her waiting. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he climbed out of the car, into the cool air. The cold bit at his face and he shivered, hoping the excuse of the chill might be enough to cover his shame-colored cheeks.

Along with the cold, the first thing S.Q. noticed was the noise. There was a lot of it. People talking as they milled about, the cars on the road, the general hustle and bustle one might find in any city. He immediately decided he didn’t like it. He bit back a small hum of displeasure and pulled his coat up to cover his ears, hoping once again the cold would be a good excuse for this. They had a bit of walking to do before they got to the store and S.Q. spent the whole time with his shoulders hunched and his ears covered. He blocked out the sound around him as best he could, including Kate’s excited chattering and Sticky and Constance’s bickering. He focused, instead, on the fabric of the coat under his fingers. He ran his thumbs along the seam of the zipper, counting each little ridge and bump of the teeth and the way it merged with the soft, green fabric.

He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Milligan looking at him with a concerned expression. “Are you alright?” S.Q.’s cheeks burned brighter. He dropped his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat.

“Yeah- It's just… it’s uh- it’s loud out here.” Milligan hummed and he removed his hand. S.Q. felt a pang of discomfort, the hand on his shoulder had been a good anchor to focus on. His gaze dropped away from Milligan’s sympathetic face as they approached the store. Constance pressed her nose against the glass of the display window and peered inside. In the windows were mannequins, some displayed men's coats while the other displayed women's, a few mannequins were even dressed in coats that could be described as an androgynous, function over fashion type.

S.Q. found himself drawn to one coat in particular. It was a similar shade of green to the old one he wore currently. Its hood was lined with soft, beige fabric. It buttoned up over a zipper and had deep pockets on each side, both of which were embroidered with a sprawling vine of brilliantly colored flowers, matching the embroidery pattern on the cuff of the sleeves. It was on a woman’s mannequin and S.Q. felt another small rush of embarrassment alongside his disappointment at this fact.

“It’s a nice coat.” he heard Constance say beside him. It’s only then he realized he’d been staring at it. The other kids and adults were looking at the coats in the window.

“Oh, yeah… but, it’s a woman’s coat, so I can’t-”

“So?"

“...Pardon?”

“Who cares if it’s for women? It’s a nice coat, and if it fits, the gender hardly matters.”

S.Q. hummed in thought as the adults ushered the kids into the store. There was plenty else to look at inside, and they could see a few of them beginning to shiver as the wind picked up the pace. Inside the store was certainly warmer, but just as loud as outside and S.Q. found himself shoving down the urge to clap his hands over his ears and pull up the collar of his coat. Inside the enclosed space of the store, it seemed even louder. Sound did not travel outside as it did in here.

They split up to look around. Sticky and Reynie went with Ms. Perumal while Constance went with Rhonda and Number Two. Kate, naturally, went with Milligan and S.Q. ended up trailing along after them, unsure of who else to go with.

The trip to the store was mostly without incident. Mostly. The kids had all chosen out some appropriate winter attire, and S.Q. had found a proper coat. Plain blue, simple, but effective. It reminded him of the coat he had been provided with on the island. They had all lined up at the register. The cashier was giving them all an interesting look. It had never occurred to S.Q. before now that they must look like quite an odd group. A very large man, three young women, and several children, of which very few looked related to each other.

As they lined up, someone bump into S.Q., a woman who looked not much older than Ms. Perumal, Number Two, and Rhonda. S.Q. had passed her a few times in the store. He remembered her because she had been walking about rather quickly, and with her vibrantly-colored coat had given S.Q. the impression of a hummingbird. Though he was certain hummingbirds did not ram into boys and topple them over.

That was the metaphorical last straw for S.Q., he slammed into the hard linoleum floor, Milligan had reached to grab him but had unfortunately missed. The woman apologized profusely, her face flushing in embarrassment, but she didn't stay long enough to make sure he was alright. His ears rang, and his shoulder was sore now, everything was much too loud and much too quiet at the same time.

Milligan was asking if he was alright, but S.Q. could hardly hear it. He just stood and mumbled something about needing a moment before darting from the store. He took a deep breath as he stepped outside and leaned against the wall. His breath came, after the initial gasp, in short, shallow intakes. He clamped his hands over his ears and slid down to the ground. With his eyes shut tight, he did not see the looks cast at him by passing strangers as he rocked ever so slightly, trying to focus on the motion of the back and forth instead of everything around him. Stonetown was big, and sprawling, and nothing like the island. His father had been right about that. The world outside of his little islet was coarse, unruly, and frightening. He was not made for it, it had not formed around him, and he did not have the strength to carve himself a place.

Someone sat down beside him. He did not look up, instead, he kept his head placed on his knees, his hands over his ears, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut as the world passed him by. Slowly, the ringing in his ears faded. He cracked one eye open to let in the light, grimacing as his eyes adjusted. He had no way of gauging how long had been sitting there, but he imagined it may have been enough to raise concern. He could not see the rest of the group, which meant they were either back at the car, or still inside the store. Milligan was sitting beside him. He was not looking at S.Q., or trying to touch him, he was just sitting there. Watching people pass by on the street. When he finally saw that S.Q. had opened his eyes again, he said,

“Do you mind if I touch you? I know you’re overwhelmed, I don’t want to make it worse.” S.Q. ignored the lump that formed in his throat and nodded. Milligan shifted slightly and opened his arms, which S.Q. fell gladly into. Milligan did not say anything when S.Q.’s shoulders started shaking and tears began to stain the shoulder of his coat. His arms were strong, firm, but gentle. And S.Q. barely noticed when Milligan guided him up to his feet and started walking him back to the car, his arm still slung around his shoulder. Soon he was in the back seat again. He did not look at Kate or Sticky, though he could see their concerned glances in the corner of his eye. None of them spoke as they drove home, and the whole time S.Q. could feel guilt creeping up his throat, threatening to come out in sobs. But he swallowed them down with shaky breaths.

When they pulled into the driveway, S.Q. was the last out of the car and into the house. Everyone quietly went their own way, the new clothes were left in the front hall, for the moment, to be sorted through later. Mr. Benedict smiled as he walked into the front hall and saw everyone taking off their boots.

“Ah, you’re back! Mrs. Perumal and I made hot chocolate” The kids all grinned and went off to the kitchen. Kate lingered for a moment longer when she saw S.Q. untying his shoes with a slowness that could have only been purposeful.

“Hey,” she started, softly. When S.Q. looked up, she continued “Are you alright? You seemed pretty freaked out back in town.”

“Yeah, it was just loud so…” He cut himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatened to turn into tears again. “So, I just needed some fresh air. Sorry, I know I ruined the mood-”

“What? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, I was just worried about you”

“...oh.”

“You gonna come get some hot chocolate? Might make you feel better.” S.Q. nodded and finished unlacing his boots. He pulled them off and lined them neatly with the rest of the shoes, adjusting Constance’s (which had been kicked off haphazardly) as he went. Then he joined the others in the kitchen. He was glad when the others barely spared him a glance, all absorbed in asking for whipped cream in their hot chocolate as Rhonda and Number Two got everyone a mug. He didn’t think he could handle that attention.

The only person who looked at him was Mr. Benedict, who was talking with Milligan in hushed voices. He cast him a fond smile. S.Q. could tell they were talking about him and a pit formed in his stomach. He had messed up, he knew. He had probably overstayed his welcome anyway. It was only a matter of time before he had to be sent off to an orphanage. It was an inevitability. He sat at the table, and a mug of hot chocolate was placed in front of him, paired with an affectionate hair ruffle from Rhonda as she passed by. He drank his hot chocolate in silence.

He passed the rest of the day in relative quiet. In the midafternoon, the kids all went out in the backyard to play. Kate was high up in a tree the moment they got outside, and Reynie and Sticky sat in the shade of the branches, talking about a book they had both read. Constance was picking dandelions, addressing Sticky’s comment about how they were actually weeds by sticking her tongue out, which he responded to by narrowing his eyes and scrunching his nose back at her. S.Q. sat on the porch the whole time, watching this all go down, and drawing it as it happened.

That night, they sorted through the clothes, and everyone was sent off to bed, feeling content with their choices.

The next morning, S.Q. was woken by the sun peeking through a gap in the closed curtains, shining right in his eyes. He groaned and rolled over, pulling his blanket over his head. Then Kate knocked on his door, announcing loudly that breakfast was ready, and telling him to “Get outta bed, sleepyhead!” He heard her laugh to herself about how she had rhymed (“just like Constance” she giggled) as she retreated down the hall to wake the others. He rolled out of bed reluctantly and went to get dressed.

After he had pulled on his sweater, he looked at himself in the mirror. For a moment, all he could do was stare as he was struck with a realization. Nothing had changed . Aside from his hair in its natural curls, he looked just as he had on the island. He looked down at his clothes. He didn’t even like this color. His father had micromanaged every little thing of his appearance. Every time S.Q. had had the opportunity to dress himself, his father had cut in with little criticisms, several of which rang in his head now (‘straighten your collar, S.Q., and for the love of everything you must start keeping your hair out of your face.’) He was still trapped in that pattern, dressing as his dad expected him to, even though he hated it.

S.Q. leaned against the bathroom door, desperately willing the tears in his eyes to go away. He sat slowly on the floor, staring silently at his feet as tears streaked down his cheeks. Despite his best efforts, he was still doing just as his dad instructed him to.

‘I’m going to be like this forever’ he thought, despairingly, as he set his head down on his knees and hugged tightly. His shoulders shook as he started quietly. He shoved his face into his knees as hard as he could, trying to muffle the sound. But soon enough someone was knocking on the door.

“S.Q.? Are you alright in there?” It was Rhonda. S.Q. sniffled and quickly wiped his eyes, stood, ran the tap, and splashed his face with cold water. Then he opened the door. Rhonda fixed him with a concerned look, and it took all of his efforts not to start crying again. His chest fluttered with that urge to sob, but he managed a small smile as he moved past Rhonda.

“Yeah, doing just fine. Sorry I took so long, I’ll see you at breakfast.” S.Q. made his way downstairs before Rhonda could get another word in. He walked downstairs and into the kitchen, pressing his palms against his eyes. He stopped just short of slamming right into Number Two, who jumped back slightly as he appeared in the kitchen.

“Oh- good morning, S.Q., I was just-” She paused mid-sentence, taking in the red under his still-teary eyes and his flushed cheeks. Behind her, S.Q. could see the rest of the kids and adults. A few had looked up at his entrance, clearly also taking note of his expression.

“S.Q.?” Comes Ms. Perumal’s voice. He turned his head to look at her. She looked concerned. “Are you okay?” she asked. Her voice was so soft, and so full of concern, that S.Q. could do little to stop the tears that rose in his eyes. He stepped back.

“Um- I think I just need some time to myself. I’m sorry.” he turned on his heel and went back upstairs. He was surprised by his own silence when he closed his bedroom door behind him. Tears streamed freely down his face, but he did not sob. He just sat there and let them fall. Then he climbed, silently, into bed. And he did not leave his room for the rest of the day.

Throughout the day, he heard people mill about. A few knocked on his door. At some point, the door cracked open and Number Two set down a plate just inside the door. He ate the sandwich, though he didn’t have much of an appetite. He drifted in and out of sleep throughout the day, waking every time with various images of his father behind his eyelids.

Eventually, he woke up to the sound of Constance speaking. “Why won’t he come out?” she was saying, sounding very frustrated. “He’s been in there all day. Is there something wrong with him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him, Connie-girl” came Kate’s voice “He’s just had a rough day, is all”

“But he was barely up for five minutes before he locked himself in there!”

“Constance,” came Reynie’s voice. S.Q. assumed the entire mysterious benedict society must have been outside his door, having a mini-meeting. “You know how S.Q. is Mr. Curtains son?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with him being so sad?” She said. Despite the bite in her voice, there was genuine concern behind it. S.Q. pulled his blanket over his head.

“Well, sometimes parents make their kids pretty sad.” This time it was Sticky’s voice, which spoke with a sort of sympathy that only someone who had also been hurt by their guardians could speak with. “And sometimes that sadness lasts a really long time.”

“...oh.” Constance’s voice was barely audible through the door and the blanket over his head. “So, he’s going to be sad forever? But that’s awful!” her voice rose again in indignation. ‘Yes,’ S.Q. thought miserably ‘I’m going to be sad forever.’

“Not forever,” Kate said “after all, he’s got us now! We can cheer him up.”

“But how can we do that if he stays in there all day?” He could picture Constance crossing her arms and pouting. It brought the tiniest smile to his face. Slowly, S.Q. stood up and walked to the door.

He opened it, coming face to face with the four kids. All of them scrambled back slightly, trying to look as though they had not been having a meeting outside his room. Kate was leaning against the wall on her arm, her free hand on her hip. Reynie and Sticky both stood stick straight, with what they clearly hoped were casual smiles. The only one who hadn’t moved was Constance, who stood there, arms crossed, pouting. Just as he had pictured.

“Heyyy,” Kate said “Glad to see you up and about! Mr. Benedict sent us to see if you want dinner.” S.Q. turned and looked out the bedroom window. He hadn’t even noticed the sun going down. He looked back at them and nodded. He didn’t quite feel like talking yet.

No one brought up that morning as dinner was served and eaten. Everyone acted as though it hadn’t happened at all. This had always bothered him when his father did it. But this was different. They weren’t ignoring that he had been upset, they simply recognized that he didn’t wish to talk about it. Dinner passed without incident, and then kids were sent to wash up and get ready for bed.

That night, S.Q. laid in his bed for a very long time, restless. He turned side to side, pulled his blanket over him, and pushed it back down. His exhaustion from earlier seemed to have entirely disappeared, replaced with a pounding headache. At around twelve-thirty, he groaned and got out of bed. Silently, he walked downstairs, managing to avoid all the creaky boards that Kate had told him about. But when he stepped into the kitchen, hoping to get water and head back to bed, he found it occupied.

Mr. Benedict was there in the kitchen, making tea. He had two mugs set out on the counter, as though he had been expecting him. This was a trait of Mr. Benedict’s he had yet to get used to. How he seemed to just know things. Like the fact that S.Q. was going to come downstairs. “Ah, good evening S.Q.,” he said, as he spotted him. “Would you like some tea?”

“Um… sure- I mean- yes please,” He said. Mr. Benedict asked him which tea he preferred (to which S.Q. answered Chamomile) and poured hot water into both mugs before getting out two teabags. He set both mugs down on the table, and S.Q. sat in front of one.

“Milligan told me you had a rough time at Stonetown the other day.” S.Q. felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment again.

“Yes. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to be disruptive. It was just really loud-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my dear boy,” Mr. Benedict said, interrupting what surely would have been a tearful ramble. “I’m willing to bet that you’re not very used to large crowds.”

S.Q. shook his head. “No, everything on the island was so... controlled. Not a thing was out of place. There were no unruly crowds, no yelling, everything was subdued.” Mr. Benedict nodded, tilting his head slightly as he listened. “even how I dress. That was what I was upset about this morning. I realized I’m still dressing as I was expected to and not how I actually want to. And I know it’s awful, and I shouldn’t but- but I miss it. I miss him .” Mr. Benedict didn’t have to ask to know who S.Q. was talking about.

Mr. Benedict set down his mug and put his hand over S.Q.’s “It’s not awful. In fact, it rather makes sense.” S.Q. blinked, staring at him for a moment. When S.Q. had realized he was missing his father, he had sworn to himself he wouldn’t say anything. These people had all been hurt by his father, either directly or otherwise, and the last thing they needed was him saying he missed him. S.Q. was rather surprised at himself, as well. His father had hurt him, too. By all accounts, it didn’t make any sense to miss such an awful man. But there he was, longing for his father.

“When we leave a bad situation,” Mr. Benedict continued “sometimes we find ourselves missing the person, or people, who hurt us. Not because we like being hurt, but because we became used to it. We became used to being sad and hurt because it was familiar. We learn how to live in it, and when it changes, we don’t always know how to react. Sometimes,” he gave him a pointed look “We fall into patterns that we established while we were hurting because it’s the only way to get back that familiarity. And, sometimes, even when someone has hurt you, there are those moments in between when they were kind, and we miss those as well. It's not awful to miss that. In fact, it’s incredibly common. Especially for someone so young.”

S.Q. did not try to stop the tears from falling down his face this time. Hearing it said out loud, having those feelings be addressed had tugged at something. There had been moments where it seemed like his father was genuinely trying. Moments that made all the bad feel worth it (even though it very much wasn’t) in which his father had been kind and caring. Those were the moments S.Q. reached for every time he had defended his father to himself. Those were the moments he lay in an unfamiliar bed every night longing to be back in. That was what he missed. The moments that told him everything about what his father could have been.

S.Q.’s tea sat abandoned as Mr. Benedict pulled him into a hug, which he fell into gratefully. S.Q. let himself cry, sobbing into Mr. Benedict’s shoulder, thankful for the fact that the man did not mind the tear stains like his father might have. He focused on the arms around him, the hand that gently ran over his curls, and the firm but caring presence of the man he leaned against.

“It’s not fair.” He said, immediately grimacing at how childish he must sound. But Mr. Benedict just continued the soothing motion of his hand and shushed him gently.

“I know,” he said, “I know it’s not fair. But it’ll be alright.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

#reynie muldoon #sticky washington #constance contraire #kate wetherall #milligan #number two #rhonda kazembe #ms perumal #mr. benedict #sq pedalian #mbs #mbs disney #the whole gang is here :D #trying something new #ive never posted a whole fic on tumblr #just links

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thecatprince · 5 years ago

Text

Moments

Read on AO3

Another Prinxiety fic based on the events of FWSA?? From me?? no.....

Summary: Roman remembers every moment he has ever spent with Virgil, but nothing beats this one.

Pairings: Prinxiety

Warnings: none

(mild spoilers for FWSA)

Enjoy :)

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Roman remembered every single moment he had ever shared with Virgil. Every time he had talked to Virgil, every time Virgil had smiled at him, every movie night, every argument, every breakdown. He remembered hating Virgil with a passion, hating how he kept ruining his plans of adventure and romance, how he always seemed to hold him back. He remembered seeing Virgil as he truly was for the first time, taking the first steps towards acceptance, realising that while Virgil did sometimes hold him back, he also pushed him forward and how he made them better. He remembered slowly growing closer with Virgil, watching and rewatching The Nightmare Before Christmas until both of them could recite it by heart, giving each other makeovers, teasing each other the way they did before, but this time with fondness behind the nicknames instead of malice. He remembered the moments when Virgil had confided in him, sharing insecurities and fears late at night, both of them kept up late by anxious thoughts and creative ideas. He remembered how Virgil had spent hours comforting him and just being with him after his breakdown after Janus’ acceptance, how he had promised he would always be there for Roman, how he was the only side Roman actually trusted at that moment, and how in his weakest, most vulnerable moments, Virgil was the one he turned to, because after years of struggling and arguing and name calling, they had become closer than either of them ever imagined was possible.

But nothing could ever compete with this moment. The devastation at losing a chance with this perfect guy, Virgil pushing Thomas forward, finally taking that leap, and the complete and utter elation that followed it. Roman felt the happiest he had ever been, and Virgil, well Virgil was simply glowing. His lips were pulled into a large smile, his eyes were shining and his eyeshadow was a sparkling purple. He looked radiant, and Roman could hardly believe this was the same person who had spent years hating him, because that Virgil was always sullen and snarky, but this Virgil looked like the sun shone out of him. In Roman’s eyes, he looked perfect.

Without thinking, Roman surged forward, picked Virgil up and spun him around. “Virgil, you wonderful, wonderful person, you did it! We did it! Oh I could kiss you!”

Roman watched as Virgil’s eyeshadow brightened slightly and he realised what he had said. He quickly put Virgil down and looked away slightly, his cheeks quickly turning a bright red.

“I mean, I would like to…may I, I mean may we-” He was cut off by a pair of gentle lips against his own. The kiss only lasted a second, but it was the best second of Roman’s life. He looked at Virgil, who was so close he could see the flecks of green and purple in his eyes, and whose eyeshadow was now a sparkling purple, the brightest he had ever seen it. Roman couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him again, and so he did, pulling Virgil closer to him and cupping his face and neck with his hands and pressing their lips gently together. Virgil responded, threading on hand through Roman’s hair and placing the other on his shoulder and deepening the kiss.

Kissing Virgil was better than Roman could have ever imagined. His lips were surprisingly soft, his mouth was warm and he tasted of black liquorice (which Roman liked). He could smell the faint smell of lavender and something else that was unmistakeably Virgil. Kissing Virgil made him feel on top of the world, so light and free, and it filled him with a gentle warmth that he had only felt briefly before. Kissing Virgil was arguably the best moment of his life.

Eventually, when air became an issue, they broke apart, foreheads pressed together. Virgil’s breath was warm on Roman’s skin, and his cheeks were a rather gentle shade of pink, complimenting his eyeshadow, which was still a glittering purple. Roman gently stroked Virgil’s cheek with his thumb, tracing over the eyeshadow.

“Thank you,” Roman murmured. Virgil gave a confused look.

“For what? Kissing you? Because all you had to do was ask.”

Roman gave a huff of laughter. “No, not that, for pushing Thomas. I know that it must’ve been hard for you.”

“Oh, I don’t really know what that was to be hone-”

Roman cut Virgil off with a quick kiss. “Bravery. That was bravery Virgil. I know you were scared and you did it anyway. And it means more to me than you could possibly imagine. So, thank you.”

Virgil gave Roman a smile. “Well, I did it for you, you know. Also, if that is how you are going to shut me up in the future I have absolutely no complaints.” For him… Virgil had done it… for him? Roman felt his heart swell, and an overwhelming sensation fill his chest.

Roman gave a small smile, but he seemed otherwise lost in thought. “Ro, you good there?” Virgil asked hesitantly, eyeshadow flickering back to black. Roman seemed to slowly come out of his own head and looked into Virgil’s eyes.

“You did it… for me?” he murmured. Virgil looked surprised by this question.

“Of course I did, idiot. I didn’t do it for the girl at the counter.”

“It’s just that no one has ever done something like that for me… why did you do it?”

Virgil gave a small sigh, looked deep into Roman’s eyes and pulled him a little closer. “Because you were sad. Because you been so hurt lately, and I couldn’t let this be another thing that caused you pain. You deserve happiness, Roman, and if what I did made you even the slightest bit happy, then I would do it again and again. What you want matters, and you wanted this… and so did I. Because I care about you.”

Roman felt something stir in his chest, an overwhelming feeling of both love and realisation. Virgil did it because he thought Roman mattered, that his wants mattered. Virgil cared about him. No one had ever done anything like that for Roman, said anything like that to Roman, and the fact that Virgil had said it, done it, meant more to him than anything else in the world.

“You right there Princey?”

Roman snapped out of his thoughts and focused back in onto Virgil. He surged forward and drew Virgil into another kiss, too overwhelmed with emotions to articulate his thoughts.

After a couple of seconds they broke apart again. “Thank you.” Roman said again. He wanted to say everything he was feeling and make Virgil realised how much what he did meant to him, but he was so overwhelmed by emotion and nothing he said could ever accurately show how much Virgil’s words or actions meant. Luckily, Virgil smiled, pecked Roman on the lips and pulled Roman into a hug, so he assumed that Virgil understood at least a little of what he was trying to say.

The two stayed there for a long time, hugging, kissing and talking. Roman felt surrounded by love and comfort, and although nothing he said or do will ever repay Virgil for his actions, or tell Virgil exactly how he felt, or how much he meant to him, Roman was prepared to spend every moment of the rest of his life trying.

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Comments are greatly appreciated!!

#cat writes #prinxiety #prinxiety fanfic #ts spoilers #sanders sides #roman my beloved #virgil sanders

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