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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

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misplaced guilt

(Read below or on AO3)

It’s been a while since Bruce has been to one of these galas, and for once, he is neither hosting nor making a speech. It’s a nice change, to say the least.

Dick is sitting next to him, kicking his legs under the table. Bruce would tell him to stop, but at least he’s actually using the chair as intended with both feet closer to the floor than the chair, so Bruce lets it go for the moment. If it gets too out of control, he can always reach out and stop him, but for now, he’ll let the kid release some pent-up energy.

Bruce keeps half of his attention on Dick and the other half on his conversation with Jasmine Owen, a woman who works at one of Gotham’s youth centers. Bruce knew from the second she introduced herself that she came over in hopes of getting a donation, but he doesn’t mind; that’s one of the main purposes of these things, and Bruce is happy to help however he can.

“Babs,” Dick gasps excitedly, shooting upright when he catches Barbara walk into the room, Commissioner Gordon by her side. Bruce looks over at Dick, quirking an eyebrow. Dick smiles back, asks in his I’m-in-public-so-I’m-behaving-like-an-angel voice, “May I please be excused?”

“Hnn,” Bruce says, pretending to think over his answer.

“Bruce,” Dick whines.

Bruce smiles. “Alright. But stay in the ballroom. Dinner is going to be served soon.”

“Okay, thanks!” he slides out of his chair and offers a wave. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Owen.”

“And you, Richard,” she smiles back. When he’s gone, she turns to Bruce again and says, “He’s a sweet kid.”

Bruce can’t help but think at least in public, and at least to people who aren’t me. He’s half-joking, but there’s some truth to the statement: Dick has always seemed to behave better for Alfred, and he’s nothing if not an angel around strangers, even when he’s mad at Bruce.

At home, it’s not that Dick isn’t a good kid—he is—but he’s still a kid. Dick can be sassy, and he has a taste for anything that will make Bruce’s hair turn gray (usually dangerous, usually far away from the ground). He also has no qualms about making fun of Bruce when Dick feels it’s called for. Then there are the arguments, the borderline tantrums. Both have been decreasing in frequency, and Bruce attributes most of them to processing and coming to terms with his parents’ murder, but they are—difficult, to say the least. Dick will have these rough days—sometimes rough weeks—where he’ll lash out at Bruce over the smallest things. Sometimes it seems like he yells at Bruce just to put his hurt somewhere.

Bruce tries to take all of it—from the jokes at his expense that even he has to admit are funny, to the meltdowns—as a good sign, one that says Dick feels secure and knows that Bruce will love him regardless of his behavior or attitude. But there are certainly days when Bruce thinks it would be nice if Dick would listen to him like he listens to Alfred—like when Bruce tells him to get off of the unstable shed roof, for example.

Despite the challenges that come with raising a child, there are also so many blessings. There’s no other word to describe it. Seeing Dick learn and grow and thrive is something Bruce will never get tired of. On top of that, Dick is just this brilliant, funny, and kind child. He has the biggest heart Bruce has ever seen, and he cares so deeply and widely. Bruce doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Dick is Bruce’s light, his whole world.

Bruce pulls himself out of his head, says, “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” It’s something he can say with complete honesty. “Do you have kids?”

“Oh god, no. I think I’m still a little young for that,” she laughs. Then, thinking about what she said, her face falls. “Not that you were too young, just for me, I’d rather—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He puts his hands up and smiles. “I was really young when I took Dick in. I go to parent-teacher conferences, and most of the other parents are at least ten years older than me. But I like to think I’m doing alright, and Dick’s happy, so that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She smiles, but looks down at the table.

“So, what’s it like day-to-day at the youth center?”

She looks up, coming alive again, and the conversation picks back up.

oOo

After dinner, Dick and Barbara disappear again, and Bruce is left alone to mingle. Most people come to him, but he only has to escape a few times, so it’s going about as good as these things can go.

That is until a very urgent Barbara runs into him and tugs on his arm. “Sorry everyone, but I need to borrow Brucie for a second.”

Bruce ducks down to look Barbara in the eye. “What is it?”

“Dick. Just come with me.”

He follows her without another word to the group of people he was talking to. She leads him into the hall and toward the lobby. When they turn the corner, Dick is on the ground in a lateral recumbent position. Gordon is talking to him gently, though Dick seems unresponsive.

“Dick.” Bruce lurches forward, falling to his knees and reaching out to find Dick’s pulse and check his breathing. “What happened?”

“Barbara thinks he had a seizure,” Gordon answers. “An ambulance will be here soon.”

Dick’s breath hitches and he lets out a low moan that feels like a twisting dagger in Bruce’s chest. His eyes find Bruce’s, and he unwraps one hand from his stomach to reach for Bruce’s. Bruce takes it, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner.

“I’m right here,” Bruce promises, running a hand through Dick’s hair.

“It hurts,” Dick gasps.

“Shh, the paramedics are going to be here soon. We’ll fix it.”

Dick shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t feel right.”

Bruce tightens his grip slightly, hoping to keep Dick conscious. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Head, stomach,” Dick mumbles. “Feel hot, an’ dizzy.”

Bruce frowns, trying to determine what could be causing Dick’s symptoms. Is this the beginning of an illness, or a seizure disorder? Has Dick been poisoned? There was a run-in with Scarecrow a few nights ago, and Dick had needed to take an untested antidote for the fear toxin. Could this be a delayed reaction to the concoction Bruce had come up with?

Dick’s grip loosens.

“Dick?” Bruce calls urgently. “Dick!”

He gets no response.

oOo

Dick is staring at a white ceiling when he realizes he’s awake. Sunlight is streaming in through a giant window on his right, and there’s a framed painting of giraffes across from him. He’s tired and confused, and his gut tells him that something is wrong, that something bad happened. His first thought is that he wants his mom.

He turns his head to the left, finding Bruce in a chair and holding his hand.

“Hi,” Dick says, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Bruce grunts some kind of greeting and raises Dick’s bed while Dick takes in the medical bracelets on his wrist—one ID bracelet and one that indicates that he’s a fall risk—and the IV in the back of his hand. “What happened?”

Bruce shifts in his chair, face serious. “We were at the gala. You were poisoned.”

Dick matches Bruce’s expression, trying to think. He remembers being with Babs, telling her that something was wrong. Then he’d been on the ground, and there’d been sirens.

“The man who poisoned you had planned to offer me the antidote for a price, but he didn’t realize that you would react to the poison so—so severely,” Bruce explains, rubbing his thumb over Dick’s knuckles. “He was working as one of the waiters and heard the commotion. He came forward shortly after the ambulance left and he’s currently in custody.”

Dick swallows. “Why did he . . .” Why did he poison Dick in the first place? Need money so badly? Feel that poisoning Dick was the only option? “Would it have killed me? If he didn’t give us the antidote.”

Bruce, like always, is honest with Dick. “The doctors were able to stabilize you, but they needed to neutralize the poison quickly, and the antidote did that. It’s hard to say what would have happened without it, but things were touch and go for a while.”

Dick nods, not sure what to say as he takes it in. Eventually, he asks, “How long have I been out?”

“A few days. You woke up a few times yesterday, but you were incoherent,” Bruce says.

Dick wracks his brain, trying to pull up some inaccessible memory.

“I’m sorry that this happened, Dick.”

Dick squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Not your fault.”

“Hnn.”

“What? Are you seriously guilty that you didn’t taste all of my food first or something? ‘Cause that’s nuts, B.”

Bruce says, “You are my child. I am allowed to feel guilty when I fail to protect you.”

“You didn’t fail,” Dick interjects. “I’m okay—really.”

Bruce’s face is still pinched and concerned, and he’s looking at Dick like he might fall apart. Dick leans toward him and stretches his arms out, and Bruce quickly pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bruce,” Dick promises. And even to himself, it doesn’t sound like a reassurance most nine-year-olds should be giving. But it fits with his new life, he supposes. “I’m okay.”

Bruce tucks Dick’s head under his chin, says, “I was . . . I’m glad that you’re alright.”

Dick nods into Bruce’s chest and lets himself be held for another moment. It’s not the hug from his mom that he woke up wanting, but it’s close. It makes him feel safe and reminds him of home, and maybe that’s all Dick needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #tw: seizure #elizabeth writes

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bakatenshii · 4 years

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Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could.

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it.

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding.

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted.

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you.

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun.

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal.

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy.

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you.

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour.

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care.

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time.

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy.

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart.

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use.

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time.

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean.

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart.

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream.

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction.

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself.

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted.

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become.

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective.

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up.

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight.

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close.

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue.

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it.

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh.

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint.

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently.

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go.

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high.

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em.

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you.

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.”

“Want a taste?”

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care.

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air.

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners.

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more.

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate.

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him.

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways.

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole.

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name.

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God?

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed.

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed.

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in.

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?”

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out—

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection.

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together.

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him.

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose.

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl.

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies.

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first?

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red.

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm.

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char.

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you.

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there.

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore, can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it?

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart.

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth?

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?”

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really.

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda.

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best.

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him.

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy.

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

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nasaty · 3 years

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Noctilucence

Student Aizawa x (she/her) student reader, so much angssssttt and grief and a bunch of fluff. (Do not bring any pedo shit into my presence or I will fucking destroy you

MANGA SPOILERS until episode 107 comes out. - also this requires context that I am not providing from MHA manga and the arc with Aizawa in Vigilantes. TW: death. 9 part series.

Ch 1 here | Ch 3 here | Ch 5 here

Ch 4. The Morning

First years don’t do work studies so you had spent a lot of time at home studying general symptoms of invisible illnesses, that way you could properly heal people in need. Your friends were all at least a year above you so they were all in work studies after school, and have been for a while. Nemuri, Aizawa, and Oboro had been studying at His Purple Highness’s agency, and Hizashi was with some other hero you’d never heard of, but he had a voice type quirk so that intrigued Hizashi. Since Nemuri was a 3rd year, she was at the same agency as Oboro and Aizawa but frequently went on different, more high-level missions. You hadn’t seen her costume (or lack of costume) yet, but you saw Hizashi’s. Oboro and Aizawa frequently wore their hero costumes to school anyway, since they were comfortable. Somehow, you were a little jealous that they got to have that experience together, but you chose general studies for a reason, though the thought of being a hero and having your own costume dangled in the back of your mind. Your mind envisioned this while you snoozed your alarm and laid in bed, somehow still didn’t get enough sleep.

But first you had to get through today.

As you got ready for school, usually a mundane task that took no effort, it required a lot more thought today.

‘Should I wear something nice? Maybe then Aizawa would think I looked cute. But maybe he would think I tried to hard, or that I would never have a chance with him.’ Oboro could be totally wrong.

But if you wore what you usually wore, maybe he would think you aren’t serious, and that you don’t care if he likes you. And you definitely do care.

‘There’s no way Aizawa was putting this much thought into today….was there? ‘

You made your way to school, thoughts buzzing in your head, hands shaking, having a silent conversation with yourself about all the possibilities.

‘What if he confesses at lunch? What if he KILLS ME AT LUNCH. What if he doesn’t show up to lunch? Would that make me sad? Relieved? Disappointed?’

You’d never thought about this long enough to even entertain the idea of him finding out you were interested in him. Had this happened to you before? Had you felt like this with anyone else before, ever?

You made your way through your classes in a daze, lazily taking down sorry excuses for notes and daydreaming. Your deskmate leaned over and whispered ‘hello are you there?’ And you realized you were lost in thought while you were supposed to be working on a group project.

‘Man, this is debilitating. How am I supposed to work like this. Why do I have to have a stupid crush’

The bell rang and your heart stopped for a second, recognizing it was time for your lunch hour with Aizawa. You and Aizawa. Together. Alone. You took a deep breath, walked up the stairs, and opened the door to the roof.

No one was there.

‘Maybe he’s late? I did get here pretty fast…’ your heart was racing.

You sat down at your usual spot and got your lunch out, but you were too jittery to eat. You waited 10, 15, 20 minutes and realized he wasn’t going to show up. He wasn’t coming.

‘Probably because he hates me. I’m an idiot for thinking I could ever be with him. Why the hell would I think he could like me??’ Fuckin Oboro must’ve been messing with you.

Your phone dinged and it about made you jump out of your skin. It was a email to all UA students and teachers it read something like;

Please excuse the students in work studies with #4, #6, His Purple Highness, and All Might agencies. There have been a few larger villains that have appeared in their districts, and they’ve asked for the assistance of their students. We do not yet know if these attacks are connected. Thank you for upholding the beliefs of our school.

We wish you a plus ultra day!

Principal Nezu

You sighed, somewhat relieved. Maybe he didn’t hate you, he had been taken out of school for his work study. You didn’t know much about work studies yet, so this didnt even cross your mind as an option while your thoughts were racing earlier, but it was a pretty common occurrence. You settled down and started eating your lunch as it was about to end. You opened up the group chat.

✨ CATfé chat ✨

Y/n - just got the email from the school, good luck today you guys! you don’t need the extra luck though 😉❤️

The rest of the day went without anything out of the ordinary. No one answered you on your chat but that was not surprising, everyone was really busy. Even though Hizashi wasn’t at his work study, he never had his phone out in class, which you found admirable. You made it through the end of the day, heart and soul unscathed, and it made you feel a little brighter about the next day. Maybe this would all be okay, even if Oboro told Aizawa. Your friends were great people, you knew that much, and they wouldn’t let something so small get in between each other.

You went home, kicked off your shoes, and sat on the couch for some studying. Your house was always cold, so you brought over a blanket to snuggle in, and had some quiet music playing, just for fun. You felt content.

And then you got the call.

“Y/n.”

“Zashi? What’s up you never call me?”

“Something happened.”

#aizawa fluff #aizawa fanfiction #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x female reader #aizawa x y/n #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa slow burn #slow burn #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #present mic #kayama nemuri #nemuri kayama #midnight mha #shirakumo oboro #oboro shirakumo #loud cloud #character death

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

#night manager jed #elizabeth debicki #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki avatars #vita & virginia #elizabeth debicki imagine #elizabeth debicki fanfic #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #elizabeth debicki x you #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #wlw imagine

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cherriesradio · 3 years

Text

Valentines Day with Class 1-A

Monday

(Very long post, pure, tooth root, fluff)

(Divided by main groups)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, very much unedited

Dekusquad

Deku

He gently wakes you up by kissing your cheek and shaking you a bit, giggling.

“Wake up sleepyhead. I already made breakfast, your favorite.” He says, with a gentle smile as you turn over and get up for the day.

He takes you to the park. A place you two would take walks at almost every day, whenever Deku had free time from being the number one hero.

He picks flowers off the ground, pulling gently on your shirt to get your attention. When you turn around to him he puts the colorful flowers into your hair, giggling when you pull some out and put them in his.

Then the local boba shop, the one you two would save up for and get boba every week back in high school.

He laughed when you said you two should both get strawberry ones, “because, ya know, Valentines, pink, pink and valentine????”

You would share silly memories of whenever you two would invite others to go. Like when you invited the whole Bakusquad and Bakugo almost set the whole place on fire.

He would end the day by going to the very roof top he learned All Might’s secret. He knew the view wasn’t great, and that you didn’t have much sentimental value to it even though you knew, but it was similar to you.

How it was a part of changing his life for the better, how every time he walked by it he got a little bit happier, how it reminded him of a time he was weak and how much he has improved. It made him feel powerful and like he could do anything some how, and so did you.

He leans over while holding your hand and kisses you softly, a small satisfyed “hmp” coming form your throat

Asui Tsuyu

You woke her up. You wanted to make her breakfast, but also knew how much she loved making breakfast along with you.

Once you dragged her out of bed, she woke right up by you splashing down freezing water in her face. You quickly planted millions of kisses on her face, “to warm you back up! All the cold blood, and all!”

She much preferred to stay at home, but wanted to go out some place fancy for the special day.

About two days ago she reserved a spot at a restaurant that had a frog pond and a fountain, that was outside yet felt warm apart from the cold night air.

For most of the day you stayed inside, cuddling and watching movies. Most were romace comdeys that probably no ones else knew existed.

You two face times the rest of the Dekusquad, since everyone was in differing parts of Japan.

Luckily Deku and Ochako lived pretty close by, so you two figured it would be fun to go to the restaurant with them. A double date, which you had loved since the first one back in your UA days.

You two, begrudgingly, changed out of your pj’s and changed into fancy-jet, more appointments clothing.

It made you so happy seeing the large grin on her face and glow in her eyes as she saw you in your dress/ suit/ whatever fancy wear.

You two hopped out of the car, deciding to park a little far since you two hadn’t been out of the house all day, therefore didn’t get any exercise. So, why not get a few calories off from the whole pack of oreos you ate while watching Mean Girls?

Then when you are finally there, at your seats, waited for Deku and Ochako. Saying inside jokes, poking each other’s sides and holding in giggles among with the many other couples.

When they finally arrived, five minutes late because Deku had to remind his agency that he was having the day off, ordered.

You and a great time, sharing laughs and how your life’s have been lately.

When you got home around 10 o’clock, you slept the rest of the night trying to sleep.

But as normal, you made werid noises to make the otehr giggle, keeping them up, both of you being asleep by two in the morning after giving up and looking at YouTube for a hour before falling asleep.

Ochako

You had decided to spend Valentines with her parents. You hadn’t seen each other in a while and found that it would be nice, especially because of how much Ochako values family.

They are so kind when you two walk in the door with the biggest grins and with a warm, comforting arua seemingly circulating you.

They offer food and little gifts but you deny all of them, knowing they can barely afford giving gifts with how their company is still small.

You two use your hero money and go out and buy them furniture, and clothes, and food, and everything they could ever need for months.

They are so grateful and can’t believe their little Ochako grew up to be as amazing as she is, with a loving, responsible lover by her side at all times.

That night when you get back home, you share stories you and surely already told about your childhoods and how much you love your family’s, biological or not.

Iida

He wakes you up accidentally, he was doing all the paper work he had for the day in the morning so he could spend the majority of the day with you.

The speedy scratch of the pencil on his paper woke you up, whispering in a low morning voice “Tenya, dear? Your already awake?”

He turned in his office chair, a small smile on his face seeing your droopy eye lids and messy hair.

“Yes, love. I wanted to do all the work I had so I can spend time with you. Like how I did all my school work before you came to my dorm back in UA.” He smiled, you smiling right back.

“Alright, I’ll go make breakfast. Oatmeal or pancakes?” “Eh, it’s Valentine’s. Let’s go with pancakes for once.”

He put his head on your shoulder as he hugged you from behind, you flipping the pancakes messily, most landing folded in half.

When both of you were ready and had gotten out of your sleepy states, you went to walk around the city.

You brought your wallets. You visited a indoor petting zoo first. All the goats were weirdly fluffy and soft, and you brushed at the sheep’s fur in awe. He told you tons of facts that you wouldn’t ever normally learn, like how sheep actually need to have their wool taken off or else their overheat.

Then you went a few more blocks down and found a nice smaller library, with a cottage core aesthetic.

You walked in, quickly grated by the friendly old lady at the check out, and waved.

You two spent hours sitting, researching random things you never knew you needed to know.

You would occasionally tap the otehr shoulder to show them a good piece of writing, or something interesting.

After a few hours you went back how with him carrying you, both of you tired from walking all day.

You went home and spent the rest of the night watching documentaries, some that were funny and dumb but some that were smart and made you want to watch it again and again.

You went to bed, both facing each otehr with your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your chest.

Todoroki

Both of you accidentally wake up. He was being the big spoon, and in his sleep he accidentally used his quirk (due to his usual nightmares) and made you just a tab (WAY) to hot. You shrieked and woke him up.

You two giggled, finding that the other was awake. He quickly used his quirk and made the hot spot feel colder, but not to cold. And you told him that everything will be alright, that his nightmares aren’t real anymore. They will never be again.

You jokingly said you should do the thing where you cook on his left side like you did most mornings in UA, and he seriously said “sure”

Of course they tasted horrible because of his sweat and you two had to have an emergency trip to the grocery and got chocolate chip muffins

And of course got distracted and got a ton of other sweets as well

You spent pretty much the whole day in, goofing around, having hour long calls with friends, watching movies, cuddling, anything else you would do on a rainy Valentines Day

And of course, you had to go on Amazon and buy way to much with endeavors credit card that you went on a adventure to steal a few weeks ago and having been saving for a special occasion

As you were in the middle of a puzzle together, the rain calmed down a bit

“Hey, hey, love?” He gently grabbed your wrist in the middle of moving a corner piece

“Yes, darling?” You said, slightly surprised

“Can you and I go out for a second? I wanna try something.” You could resist and said yes, the glow in his eyes was to much to not say yes.

He grabbed an umbrella form the garage and pulled you under as you walked out, softly smiling as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

He brought you to the end of your driveway, righ next to the small garden you two had planted mostly out of boredom

He pulled you close and gently kissed your lips, softly. He let it last longer then his normal mere seconds long pecks, allowing it to last for what was probably half a minute, and pulled away

“Is that all we came out here for?” You titled your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow

“Yes.” He brightly smiled. “I read somewhere that kissing someone in the rain is romantic. And if it’s at night, or as it is right now late afternoon, it’s extra romantic.”

You giggle at his attempt of romance, which did work. How he got to doing it was odd, but that was how he found out about most romantic things.

Bakusquad

Bakugo

He definitely woke you up. He was ecstatic about the day, having big plans (*insert Kenny face*)

“SUKI WHAT THE HELL ITS FIVE IN THE MORNING WHY DO I NEED TO GET UP” “JUST GET UP I HAVE BIG PLANS OKAY GET UP OR ILL DRAG YOU” “JESUS”

He did drags you out, sadly (he drags real hard)

He then throws you on the couch while putting one of your favorite movies, and goes to make bacon eggs and pancakes

You eat, sitting inbetween his legs leaning onto him and watch the movie, maybe a few more until most normal people would be up

He occasionally title your head back so he can kiss your forehead, hair kisses feel werid on his lips

He gets the whole Bakusquad together, surprising everyone but they good

They all come to your house and Bakugo’s all “okay now we’re gonna go to the mall let’s go”

And he buys you literally everything

You can glance at it with the tinyest bit if interest and he’ll buy it

Then you all go for frozen yogurt and it’s good but you get a Brian freeze

And as probably the only in character thing he did all day, he made fun of you for it

Everyone goes home, thanking you two for the good Valentine’s Day

You two go to UA, right in front of the closed building (it’s a weekend, only the employees would be there)

You two remember how you first meet here, how you bumped into him while talking to a friend, and he was ready to yell at you, but he was to star struck by how beautiful you were to say a word.

He blushed

He asks you to turn around

You think it’s just something he secretly bought you back at the mall while you weren’t looking

It wasn’t

“Y/n, you can turn around now.”

You turn around back to him, and at first see how the sunset is perfectly on him, making him look better then ever

Then you notice his pose, his sweet yet needy expression, his hands… what he’s holding

“Will… will you marry me?”

You cover your mouth, quickly collapsing into a tight hug around his shoulders, kissing his cheek

“Yes, stupid! Of course, Jesus, I’ll gonna beat you up as soon as we get home! I love you so much!”

He laughs at how your words don’t match whatsoever

He kisses you passionately, glad that he asked Kirishima to secretly take a video ;)

Kirishima

He was so excited. He tried so hard not to wake you up, but the light sizzling woke you.

You woke up and walked into your kitchen. There stood Bakugo and Kirishima, Bakugo teaching Kirishima how to cook something. Bacon, maybe?

“No, shitty hair, you gotta flip it when the sizzlings a “ssss”, not a “zzzzzz” Bakugo stupidly said

“Kiri? Bakugo?” You said, rubbing your tried eyes, still in one of the large collection of stolen shirts, looking like a huge mess

“Hey dumba-“ “Mornin’, Pebble!”

Kirishima made Bakugo help him make you breakfast, like before, eggs bacon and pancakes. He added a large amount of butter to grease the pan, so they were extra good.

You smiled and waxed to Bakugo as he walked out, just barely seeing him have a small smile at how happy Kirishima and you, two of his best friends, were together

After breakfast you had one of your normal “concerts” where you scream-sing to recent songs you’ve taken a liking to, recently being more trendy songs like “driver’s license” “snowman” and some more odd ones like “Hadal Ahbek” and “good at loving you”

You then go to every dog cafe and cat cafe you can run/walk to, each of you loving the bright and happy look on the others face seeing all the cute animals

You run alariund town, seeing and talking to other couples who honestly kinda envy how helathy and great your relationship is

At late noon you two went back to your apartment

You took a shower together cause you were both sweaty and smelly from running so much and the dog smell wore off on you

He loves when you help wash his hair, wcshing it from the front and kissing his forehead every once and a while

You two get out and change, wearing a shark and dog onsie because your amazing people

You have the dinners night you could ever have

Having adventure time aka the show that you and rewtcahed a thousand time playing softly in the background, tickling each other, giggling at weither or not the neighbors could hear, prank calling the Bakusquad, trying to make a good looking cake, failing bust at least it tasted good?

Overall the best night in you could have after a dog and running filled day

Mina

She wakes you up, a happy grin on her face because she knows you planned something; because you always talk about how you want to pay her back for being so good to you

She’s clearly excited and you grin, some how bigger than her, happy to see her so excited already

You lift yourself from bed, quickly covering her face in kisses before getting up and ordering Uber eats for breakfast

You took her to her favorite shop, a small known one right on the corner of a safe street, only having a villain go through every couple of months, if at all

It was a nice shop, being something that. Colorful animal prints, pro hero merch, etc…

It somehow even played her favorite songs, which isn’t as surprising as it should be because she usually listened to normal, trendy songs

You two bought what felt like the whole store, then went back home to have a good old fashioned at home fashion show

You giggle and laugh, at some point falling on the floor because of how she tried to make you laugh.

You stayed inside and goofed around for the rest of the day, which honestly wasn’t to long.

Around eight you gently tugged in her wrist. “Yeah honeybun? What’s up?” She said, still having a large smile plastered on her face

“Come outside with me for a second, okay? And let me cover your eyes!” You grin, her quickly nodding a yes.

You walk outside of the house, stopping right in front of the fence lining your yard.

You take your hands off her eyes, smiling at her loud gasp.

All of class 1-A, together, for the first time since you graduated. Of course there had been many times you tried to get everyone together again. But with how almost all of the class was in the top 50 hero’s, having Todorki Bakugo and Deku being the top three, Mineta being the only one not in the top 100, it was difficult.

“Y/n! I can’t believe you! This is amazing!”

She turns and hugs you, quickly going back and running towards the others, giving them all giant hugs and chanting how much she missed having them all together.

The class played board and video games, tackled each other, and drew faces on whoever fell asleep for the rest of the night.

They all slept at yours, it was a lucky barrels everyone could fit.

Before you two, the last ones awake, went to bed she turned you to her and kissed you.

“Thank you. This is better then I could’ve imagined. I love you so much, and I’m so glad Im going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Denki

You both woke on your own pretty much at the same time, Deki accidentally hitting you with his forearm when he moved to sit up.

You laugh, making him make breakaways for punishment. He, knowing you were still in bed and would probably prefer it over his crappy cooking, went out and got donuts

You did like it more then his *unexperienced* cooking

You were still pretty sleepy during and after breakfast, so he gave you the usually little shook to wake you up.

He goes to work because he was unlucky enough to be stuck on duty on VALENTINES DAY

but, he still wanted fro show you how much he loved you even when he was gone, so the night before you left tons of silly love notes around the house.

As you cleaned the house because it had been drover since your last off day to, you found notes around the house

Stupid stuff like “Love, you make my knees weak arms spaghetti” and “Do you believe in love at first sight? If not I need to walk by you again”

It made you laugh and blush, then continue to your normal cleaning

Once he got home, he looked tired and annoyed

“Babe you wouldn’t believe how sucky the boss was today-“ He started, ready for one of his normal rants. You pull his face down, kissing his forehead.

You hugged him tightly, running your hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. ‘Bout this, I missed you all day. Those notes were funny, and sweet. Thank you.”

He instantly melted to you, burying his head in your neck and mumbling a quick “it’s okay, I really like it…”

His breath was hot on your skin, and… oh god he fell asleep

You carried him to the couch, took his shoes off, blanket… the shebang

You made dinner quickly, not wanting to wake him or make him anywhere he could get annoyed again

Once all of dinner was ready and just needed to cool a bit, you tapped his shoulder to wake him up. He’s such a light sleeper.

“Huh? Sparky? What… where am I? Wasn’t I… wasn’t I being all, ya know, in love with you?” He said, face squished up on a throw pillow.

You chuckle. “Yeah, you fell asleep so I put you on the couch. Dinners cooling off, so yeah.”

He smiled up at you and got up, full of energy from the good nap. He sprung up and kissed your cheek as he walk-ran to the counter, wanting to find what you made

“My favorite!” He cheered with a large smile. “You remember everything! You most love me so much.”

“I do. And you love me lots as well.” You said, sitting on the counter.

You ate dinner like that, you sitting on the counter and him standing, probably talking to you even with a mouth full.

You two decided to go out by night, since you spent the whole day at home or work.

You go to bar but everyone is extremely drunk, so figure it’s best not to

You then go to a all-times Walmart, deciding tonight was a time to be crackheads

They take some carts and ride around the parking lot, inviting Kirishima and Sero to come be weirdos

They come in like 2 seconds

“YOOOOO CARTS” “CARTS MAN”

That’s my Ted Talk

Sero

He wakes you up by hanging off the ceiling, and tapping your back

“Huh? Oh, spidey.” You laugh, hopping off the bed as he sways on his tape.

“Was that a good aka up call, sweetheart?” He said s with a cheeky grin

“Yes, stupid.” You ruffle up his hair and go to brush your teeth, now used to not eating breakfast because neither does Sero

( worry he didn’t make you stop, you just got out of the habit stemming from him)

He kissed your cheek as he went off to water your small flower garden handing on the apartment balcony.

Once he came back, you two watched a few romance comedies and tried to find out what in the world you neared to do that day.

“Maybe… oh, we havnt gonna roller shaking in a while?” (I headcanon that Sero likes roller skating lol)

“That’s sound great. Maybe invite the gang? Or would you rather it just be us?” You tutored your head, away from the characters you didn’t really care for because neither of them were that good. At least the bad people go together.

“No, going with the gang sounds great! I’ll go call them and see if they’re free!” He said, climbing out of the nest you had made around you two.

When you got there most of the group was already there, everyone else coming only minutes after you.

You have a great time exhausting yourselves, Sero pulling you around with his tape, you using your quirk to go faster, and generally goofing around.

Once you get back to your shared apartment, your both tired out and ready to cuddle while on the edge of sleep, watching random shows on Netflix.

And you did just that, Sero just barely staying awake enough to turn the tv off right before he fell asleep.

Extra’s (aka ones that a simp for that are rarer)

Aoyama

He ADORES valentine day

He goes all out, the most cliche thing you could imagine

Chocolate, overly expensive roses, cards, the whole shebang

Ojiro

It’s not the biggest thing for him

Like, he loves you everyday and wants to express that everyday, why reserve one day for doing it but being extra with it?

Kinda just takes the day off and does the normal, but the whole day sorta thing

Like, take a walk, cooking together, cuddle a bit, normal stuff

Kouda

He tries his best

He thinks that the classic “be publicly affect, give lots of gifts” kinda thing

But he doesn’t like (aka has a burning hate) for pda

They say it’s fine that he doenst want to go out, and that they can stay in all day

Fin.

#mha #bnha #mha valentines #mha x reader #deku x reader #ochako x reader #tenya x reader #bakugo x reader #todorki x reader #denki x reader #sero hanta

106 notes · View notes

stagbells · 3 years

Text

Summerdew and Sweet Kisses

From: @daikoski

To: @strawberryaeris

Written work under readmore!

notes: hello!! i had lots of fun writing this, it was such a joy to work on! it’s my first time writing lacenet, so i hope you enjoy!! summertime love :D

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It’s date night, and Lace has full reign on what they’re doing today.

It’s less of a spoken thing and more a silent agreement that one of them can take the lead and decide what sort of day the two will share together. Whether it be cozying it up at home, or working on individual projects with the other close by, going hunting, or seeking out a new activity to share, most of everything is free game when it comes to them.

To which, she’s deliberately chosen something new.

Hornet had mentioned one time, in idle conversation, that she’d never really swam for the sake of it. If anything, it was a shortcut, if she couldn’t easily cross the body of water with her needle and silk. That she hadn’t really considered it as a fun passing of time, a recreational activity of sorts.

Well. Neither had Lace, but the thought of it now sounds far more appealing now that they’ve both claimed better lives for each other, for Hornet’s family, doesn’t it? It’s safer now, and they’re easing into a life beyond just fine, but something good instead.

And... there are plenty of beautiful, isolated spots within the land that Lace has seen, and what better to enjoy it than with her darling?

And what a pretty little area it is too; a pond, hidden within the depths of a lush grove. hidden, but with evidence of prior life, if the cute wooden dock is any indicator. The surface of the pond is scattered with aquatic plants in little vibrant clusters, pearls of colour that sway with the breeze.

“Are you sure you don’t want to enter the water, dear?”

From her spot, with Hornet sitting perched on the dock, dangling her peets into the water and swishing them around in such a way that makes Lace laugh, before settling her always so composed regard on her, she looks nothing less than perfect. And also very wary of getting wet beyond that.

Cute.

“I’m considering it,” is just enough of a not-response that Lace hums, a touch understanding, a touch mischievous. Ah yes. She’s considering it.

Hornet has been sitting on the edge of the dock for almost an hour now, the two making idle conversation as they enjoy the balmy air that’s heavy-sweet with ripening fruits and bright flowers, hot to the point of being almost unbearable, but alas, she is still considering it.

Such a shame.

Lace splashes the unsuspecting spider.

Not a full-on wave, of course, she isn’t that mean, but as of now, a little urging on her part wouldn’t hurt, and Hornet immediately shields herself from the water. The top-half of her cloak is soaked.

“Lace—!”

“Yes?” Her voice as innocent as she is not, she merely swishes her hands within the water, propelling herself back a bit from the dock before holding her hands out in gesture, as if to catch Hornet if she were to dive in. “My, dearest, do you need any help with that? You’re already halfway there!”

“My silk is going to melt, and my things could rust...”

“A little water won’t hurt, but if you need a place to keep them, there’s a little nook over there that’ll keep them safe.” Shrouded by bits of sweet grass and soft soil, it’s a perfect spot to keep anything important safe. Besides, they’re both well aware that both of their belongings are far sturdier than that...

“If you had wanted me in the water so bad, you could have asked.”

Kind of haphazardly, more deliberate than not, Hornet unburdens herself of all the little tools and trinkets she keeps within her cloak, before finally sliding into the water. (It’s a mess, but a mess that she understands and who is Lace to question that.)

“There. I’ve removed everything from my pockets, and I’m here now.” Her tone is just a touch grumpy, though that’s easily dismissed with the way Lace can feel the faint stutter-rumble of her purr as she rests a hand on Hornet’s chest.

“Cute, but I think the little questions I’ve scattered into our conversation were not given much heed.”

“Maybe if you asked again...” Ah, now that is most certainly petulance. “You’re enjoying making a fool of me today, aren’t you?”

Hornet’s claws are carefully gripping her own, smaller hand, and Lace brushes the pad of her thumb over her now damp fur. The distant, light waves that carry them ever so slightly kind of pushes her to Hornet, and she can only smile wider at the way her lover’s claws go to brace her gently.

“Ahh, my apologies, I'm not trying to be mean!”

“Really.”

“Mm. At least, just a little bit.”

“So you do admit it.”

“And you must believe me, dearheart, when I say I have no ill intent~!”

Intentionally, Lace lets her mandibles curl in a teasing, honey-sweet manner that always has Hornet unable to look away for just a little bit, and she relishes in the attention just as much as the way her darling swats a wave of water her way in reciprocation.

Because even if she says it in a teasing way, going so far to jab her elbow lightly into Hornet’s side with a laugh, she hopes that the cute spider knows she means every word of it.

Because she’s something wonderful, isn’t she? Direct in a way that’s refreshing, because how often is it that Lace gets to experience something like that? Sharp and honest (and even if she does sometimes struggle with expressing her feelings, she’s still honest) and it’s in such a way that makes Lace want to be the same towards her, be something more open, more real.

...Weird concept, and Lace finds herself laughing to herself, just a little trill of delight.

Yes, but nothing could ever make her stop wanting to tease the spider. Her reactions are so cute after all!

But, her sappiness can be saved for later. Not when there’s currently the cute culprit of these thoughts right in front of her. It’s fun to splash around and goad her dearest on into something of a playfight, one that results in the both being absolutely drenched, but it’s just as nice to relish the coolness of the water against her shell, and in turn be able to admire the many facets such a new experience has brought upon Hornet’s visage.

Cute.

Such as the vague flit of surprise that had so graced the spider’s face when Lace had dunked herself beneath the water; not so many bugs feel comfortable doing such a thing, after all. Or the fond, subdued smile that quirks her fangs just so with each sharp banter that slips so naturally out. It’s nice.

And when the sunlight becomes something a bit too bright and Lace can see the films of Hornet’s eyes try to flick up as she winces from it, she can’t help but bump shoulders with her, before drawing her hand over the smoothness of Hornet’s mask in an unsubtle way of blocking the light, for even just a moment.

“You’re getting water in my eyes,” Hornet half-protests, fangs scrunching but looking so much more relaxed now, and Lace can only think of it as a job well done.

She had purposefully made it so that they would go out later in the day anyways; noonlight was something so sharp sometimes, but alas, even in the evenings can the sunlight bother her dearest like so. They continue like that for a good while longer, idly floating about and conversing, one instigating another splash war on occasion.

It’s all fun and games until they have to get out of the water.

Hornet, the poor little thing, looks just a bit miserable as she works on flicking the water from the tufts of fur that lines her body, chelicerae working ever so slightly concentration. Well, it’s good she’s come prepared.

“Here you are, lover!” Easily tossing a towel around Hornet’s shoulders, Lace gives it a light tug to pull her spider down to press a little kiss and a nuzzle against the side of her mask.

“You planned for this.” Hornet is nothing short of accusatory, and she laughs, just letting a playful hum be her response as she helps tumble dry her.

“What, to trick you into the water so I can give you a kiss?”

Could it really be considered such a devious plan when she was planning on kissing her either way? Endearing thought, especially since Hornet herself is the one to go through some length to muster up something as direct as asking for a kiss. Usually all she’d need to do is start purring up a storm to leave Lace as the one giving the kisses!

At some point, Hornet had cuddled up to her, both drying beneath the steady heat of the sun, but indulging in the warmth of one another for as long as they were allowed. Laying back onto the wood of the deck, peaceful and soft and warm, where the only sounds were that of trickling water and slowing breathing.

Despite appearances, Hornet can be quite the cuddler, curling herself as close as possible to Lace, little tail and everything looping around her as she dozes. Well, this is her fate now.

She doesn’t have the heart to move and disrupt Hornet from a well-deserved nap, even if the way they cuddle always traps her beneath her weight. Not until the sun begins to fall, and the faint glimmers of the starlight begin to settle in, does Lace think of stirring the spider.

This is the sight she wanted to share with her, after all. To deliberately take a moment and enjoy the sight the massive void above has to offer, with all its strange mysteries and stories to tell. Stories she only really heard as a grub, but ones she’s more than willing to try and scrounge up to share with her lover if she so asked...

“Hello there, darling,” Lace carefully nudges her girlfriend awake, and Hornet untucks her face from the crook of her neck. “The sky is clear tonight, take a look.”

(There’s no teasing note to her voice—there’s no need to bring it forth, rather. Not when everything is so quiet, so subdued, and Hornet is still shaking off the last lingering bits of sleep from her eyes, looking so peaceful and comfortable that the sight brings an ache forth in her chest.)

(That this is something they both get to have.)

“It’s night time already?” Hornet murmurs, twisting herself to lay on her back, “Would you not get cold?” The sleepy note to her normally composed and cold voice is something so cute, and Lace leans in to give her a little nuzzle.

“No, and even if I do, I have you, as well as the shawl you had weaved for me so kindly.” And alongside that, the soft, genuine fondness in her own voice is still something so faintly unfamiliar, yet so nice. She could get used to it.

Hornet flushes a bit, perhaps at the prospect that Lace had decided to take the gift she had made for her along in case the night air became chilly, before letting a little ‘mrr’ of disappointment out.

“I am not sure if we should stay out so late...” she begins, before gesturing a bit vaguely, “that, and I had mistakenly assumed we were to return home by nightfall, so...”

Ohh, are her siblings expecting her?

Lace sits up, and unable to help it, stares for a moment. It clicks. Right. They usually go hunting during their dates, two belflies with one stone so to say.

“Did you leave your siblings at home with nothing to eat?” is her automatic question, more concerned for Hornet than anything else. Hornet sits up as well, adjusting her cloak.

“Not nothing.” Hornet frowns, but there’s a small smile hidden, tucked away beneath her mask and Lace knows she’s not truly upset at her question, “they’re most likely eating as we speak. And if they so happen to finish all of our food at home, neither are the type to allow the other to go hungry anyways...” so they could very well be hunting, too.

“Ah, but I can tell you still dislike the notion of leaving them without a fresh meal.” Lace points out, and Hornet leans into her side a bit.

“...Yes.”

“Cute! If it so soothes you, my worrier, then we can take a little detour. I wouldn’t mind if this date takes a turn for our usual.” Carefully extracting herself from Hornet’s hold, Lace hops up with ease to swipe up her belongings—including her pin.

Hornet visibly hesitates—and by visibly, there’s the slightest press of her claws against Lace’s arm, just a light pressure as if to gently tug her back to her side—before she too stands. Not one to leave things undone, not one to linger, but oh, so it seems for the both of them, lingering is just so much easier nowadays...

“Apologies...” she mumbles, and whether it be due to cutting their plans short, or the hesitation, Lace hums affectionately to comfort her. “We could stay a little longer?”

“We can always go stargazing another day, my dear. And hunting with you is always a treat, there's nothing to apologize for.” and with a little nuzzle, the two are on their way.

(A part of her delights so wonderfully at the fact she’s come to pick up so many of Hornet’s cues; not when so few bugs can say the same, and it makes her preen with a silly sweet sort of pride. Hers, just as much as she is Hornet’s.)

It isn’t until they’re both following an easy scent trail that Hornet speaks up again, breaking that routine silence and looking beautifully dangerous in the moonlight, needle and silk carrying her onwards.

“...Did you call me your ‘warrior’ or ‘worrier’?”

Pfft!

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

...

“I suppose I’ll just earn back my title as your warrior with this hunt.”

#stagbells #summer stagbells 2021 #hollow knight #lace #hornet #lacenet #written works

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oquinn53 · 3 years

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BNHA THEORY RAMBLING WITH SPOILERS

Okay so second bnha rambling with theories because I can’t think straight so I think of bnha! Specifically Deku.

Specifically, Deku’s endgame. There are so many theories out there and I just.... think about Deku specifically a lot. I mean he’s the protagonist and everything and I love him and a common theory that I actually do kinda think about a lot is Deku losing OFA. But I don’t think he’ll end quirkless. I think a lot of things need to happen but let’s start with me rambling about Deku’s characterization, how it can all be wrapped up in this:

Deku has PTSD. (This part is LONG and talks about masochism and mentions suicide and all that. Other points are shorter!) And I don’t mean post war arc or even post Bakugo’s kidnapping, if we want to go that far back. Deku has PTSD from the VERY start. This kid is a walking mental illness. Sources? Hi, I’m a Civilian With PTSD and I saw Deku at the beginning and I watched Deku’s horrible mental health deteriorate EVEN MORE than it started off as. This is really important to me, to state that he has it from the beginning, because I believe in the character growth and development. I might be talking out my ass but it’s fun so. Why do I say he starts out from it? Let’s look at symptoms.

A) hyperfixation, my old friend. Deku fixated hardcore on All Might and Heros in general. But he fixated specifically on All Might and he gets EMBARRASSED about it a lot. (Funny enough, the embarrassment of it is also a symptom of ADHD but I’m not as well versed in that). Hyperfixation is a very very common coping method.

B) His anxiety. Kinda self explanatory here. He’s a bully victim. He also has been literally classified as LESS. Quirkless. But also defenseless. Useless. We’ve heard that, his anxiety is there but it’s because of what DEFINES him. His self identity was born from what everyone else tells him. He’s a determined boy, but his sense of self is only wrapped up in what other people think—or specifically, what All Might thinks. Which blends a bit with...

C) A loss sense of identity. I talked about this a little bit he last part but Deku’s goal to become a hero is so tied to All Might that even when he gains the quirk, he has to have it beaten into him with warning of losing the use f his arms for him to realize he’s NOT All Might. But that’s still what he sees, even when he switches to using his legs more. He has no idea who he is. He just copies. He copies Bakugo’s moves again and again. And while it’s cool to see all the parallels and growth of Deku learning from others, there is a message of “making it his own” when Deku copies others again and again because he has no idea who HE is. He analyses like crazy because figuring out how other people do things is the only way he can figure out how HE can do things. Also, the whole language change because his image of victory is Bakugo? Literally his speech pattern isn’t his own, his every day one matching his mother’s.

D) repressed and heavily released emotion. He’s 0 or 100, both when he gets OFA and with his emotions. I mean. Feral!Deku. Do I need to say more? Yes, because I was to drive home how not okay Deku is from the very beginning. Boy cleans the beach and screams bloody murder. He has no idea what emotion to have and needs to let it out. Doesn’t matter he just did a shit ton of physical release, he has so much emotions that he doesn’t know what to do with. Just like Bakugo’s anger, Deku’s emotion usually comes out as his tears. Boy cries a lot but sometimes tears aren’t enough and Deku screams a LOT. Even his own excitement bursts out in bigger ways, with his mumbling and fact dropping (god, also slightly autistic coded maybe? Blurred lines with ADHD there, it again, not my area of expertise)

E) black and white thinking. He’s young, so that explains some of this but just like I mentioned above with the 0 or 100, he represents the mindset of civilians. He literally blinds himself at the very start to even what’s happening to HIMSELF. He sees hero and he sees villian and those are his two categories. Bakugo literally tells him to kill himself and Deku thinks about how that would negatively affect Bakugo. He doesn’t and never does see Bakugo as a villian for this. He sees “wow that wouldn’t be good for his Hero image” and because Deku sees Bakugo as a hero, everything has to fit into that. And while Deku has huge growth with this next part, he also originally viewed villains as just villains. He learned a LOT and while the society’s image becomes less black and white for him (because the whole manga revolves around the gray morality of it all) he still doesn’t see much gray area. It’s win or lose. With the sports festival, he literally won the race without his quirk. He got through the Calvary battle despite being a giant ass target. He placed in the top 8 (which he probably would have gotten higher on if his goal didn’t change) and despite accomplishing his goal with Todoroki, he broke down about not doing what All Might asked him despite gaining permanent scarring and a hell of a warning re his arms. But to point back at the beginning, this is reinforced with his entrance exam. Passing the written exam meant NOTHING because he did “””nothing””” in the practical.

F) last point, Deku’s a masochist. Obviously with the broken bones and things but I’m not even just talking about the physical damage he does to himself—which is, what, 95% of the time what he gets most of his wounds from? Anyway—I’m talking about his mindset. Masochism isn’t just the physical act of causing pain. It’s that mindset of deserving pain. The reasoning doesn’t matter. Deku only “betters” himself for the sake of giving more to others. He trains so hard, not for himself, but for others. On the outside it might seems like his goal of becoming a hero is his own but he sacrifices his body and dives into situations where he’s literally been warned he’s going to die and he just does it anyway. Eri’s Arc and him “changing the future” is what I’m referring to here and you could say “well he DID say he would change that future!” And okay, sure, but he was told Sir is never wrong. But he would rather rush into that future where he dies than take even a moment to think through his actions. But anyway, my point is him at the beginning so I specifically mean the training montage. Where he was ALREADY on a tough schedule that he knew would be difficult and he literally adjusted it and added MORE. Because, to circle back to other points because mental illness always overlaps points, he can only think of himself as 0 or 100, black and white, Able To Save or Failure. If he can’t be at 100 then he believes he deserves pain and causes it to himself. The only time he regrets his injuries is when it prevents him from giving MORE of himself to others. He learns his shoot style not because he doesn’t want to hurt himself but because he doesn’t want to become useless to others. He trains and loses sleep and puts his body through hell because he thinks of himself only as something for others. (I think wanting to save Shigaraki is a powerful moment not because it’s Pure Boy Deku but because it’a his own thinking, his OWN want, but.... it’s still not for him and will still cause him pain). And a last point on this, Heros Rising showed us that Deku is willing to give up his quirk and his dream to win and it showed us that while he believed he didn’t have any other choice, he was deeply disappointed in himself. Winning wasn’t enough. Hurting himself THAT MUCH wasn’t enough. He let All Migjt down and giving up his dreams, almost dying, becoming quirkless, all wasn’t enough to counteract the shame he held. Like god. Baby.

Other small observations or relevant commentary:

1) The doctor who told Deku he was quirkless is the same doctor who worked on Shigaraki. Same doctor who can perseve dead bodies. Same doctor who worked with AFO and all that. (See? Short! Will be relevant soon)

2) One for All is tied to All for One. OFA was literally created the moment a hand reached out to help. Can one even exist without the other?

3) Bakugo needs to apologize. Horikoshi has literally said in an interview post Heros Rising that Bakugo needs to apologize. Sacrificing his life to save Deku is NOT how you apologize to Deku. Deku will ask for a receipt on this type of apology. Return to sender. Unacceptable. So. Bakugo needs to apologize.

4) Deku’s dad isn’t in the picture yet. Hasn’t even been spoken of except for the fact we know his quirk is fire breathing and his name is Hisashi. Oh and he’s abroad. Oh and Horikoshi said he’ll be in the picture at some point. Given we’re in the final arc......... this might not be relevant at all to my theory because I have mixed thoughts on AFO being Deku’s dad but it would connect a few things in the theory.

SO. Finally, all of this together had me thinking about Deku’s characterization and what this (now with COMBAT related ptsd and not just civilian ptsd) means for his ending.

Like I said, I think he’s going to lose OFA. And I originally didn’t think so because Heros Rising showed his losing it and why would they do that again? The movie is canon. Horikoshi himself said so and was a huge part of the production of it. So they did that and wouldn’t do it again. Except.... Deku GAVE OFA away. Which is significant because it was his choice. And he had shame and we witnessed how much that hurt him, but we haven’t seen what’s now been tried TWICE: OFA being forcibly taken from him. Maybe by Shigaraki, since that is building up big time. But maybe by saving Shigaraki.

Either way, what’s more significant to me than how he has it taken is what that means for him, based on everything else above: he would lose his entire self identity. He would literally have no idea who he is anymore except for the only reference he’s ever had, which his from when he was quirkless. He gained friends only after he had a quirk. Every bond he has is tied to him being a hero and he was told it was impossible for him to be a hero without a quirk. Even All Might’s adjusted answer to him at the beginning involved giving him a quirk as the answer for him being able to become a hero.

I think this is the absolute perfect chance for Bakugo to say “since when did you need a quirk to be a hero”. And it doesn’t matter much what the context is, what causes Deku to still need to be a hero (whether a Situation or just an identity crisis) and I think about Quirkless Deku as a hero a lot, since that’s how he was originally written in the one shot before he was revamped for bnha.

But I don’t think Deku will end quirkless either because of who his doctor was. I think Deku had a quirk. I think the doctor stole it. Whether that’s because AFO is Deku’s dad and saw his quirk and knew he had to take it for some reason or whether it was independent and the doctor saw it and took it. The whole toe thing can be written off so easily that Deku could easily have had a quirk at some point.

And maybe, if AFO and OFA are cancelled out, the quirks that were stolen go back to their original owners. Meaning Deku gets his ORIGINAL quirk back.

As in, Deku gets his own identity.

And what would that quirk be? Hm. I don’t know. But. His mom can move small objects. His dad can breath fire. A mutation, maybe? I’ll leave that one up in the air.

And there are a lot of implications here that this could mean for him, as far as healing. And I just want him to be happy.

#bnha spoilers #bnha theory #bnha ramblings #Deku #character analysis #tw masochist #Deku has ptsd and no one can convince me otherwise

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

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Venn Diagram

Venn Diagram Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: DabiTwice; Implied Huwumi Summary: DabiTwice Week Day 2 Prompt Fill: Part of a longer DabiTwice Pro Heroes AU I have in the works and may have spoilers for more recent manga chapters if you aren’t up to date. Dabi reminded himself that he should maintain his composure, as expected of a Pro of his caliber. After all, it was just a civil meeting with another Pro to discuss agency lines and the swiping of a culprit. So what if the other Pro in question had a jawline of immaculately chiseled marble? He certainly didn’t care! Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Also Minor Trigger Warning: Implied/ Referenced Mental Illness

Touya checked his appearance in the mirror for the upmtenth time in the last five minutes. He shouldn’t be this worked up, he reminded himself, fussing as if it was a real date. It wasn’t a real date, he insisted to himself for an even larger attempt. Sure, the other had practically purred the invitation to coffee at him but that didn’t mean anything! It was just two guys hanging out and discussing the logistics of whether or not the other had stolen Dabi’s target from him! At a coffee shop that the other insisted was great for getting a handle on someone else!

So what if Bubaigawara Jin was 5’Hunk tall with a warming grin and sharp eyes? Touya certainly didn’t care! This was strictly business!

Which was why he’d spent two hours the prior night stressing over his outfit.

And then another hour and a half fussing over it when he woke up.

And planned to come up with an incredibly clever lie to tell Father as to where he was going, because God forbid Father know who it was Touya’s little meetup was with.

Touya groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands, reminding himself to stay calm as anxiety caused his skin to prickle with warmth. He was usually incredibly good at keeping his Quirk under control and had learned early on that his emotions correlated to it. Thankfully enough, Father had been quick to come up with tactics to handle his flames so as to halt his harming himself and allowing him to pursue Pro Heroics professionally, eager to follow in his father’s footsteps.

Which placed him back in the current moment.

Todoroki Enji was not an easily impressed or rattled man, more times than not seeming cruelly indifferent. This was, of course, just how the public saw him. Touya and his siblings knew that, while a harsh critic and incredibly awkward at expressing his feelings, Father was an ultimately good and kind man. He was also, however, a very disciplined and serious man, who took pride in his work and shouldered the weight of his profession with the kind of regalia he expected of others.

It was most likely why he had some rather… strong opinions about his peers.

The obvious ones were Number One Pro All Might, who he made his disdain and resentment for apparent all the time. After that came Hawks, ranked Number Three, who he found irritating due to his haughty behavior. They were the two big standouts due to their close ranking to Endeavor himself but much more so in how they had the ability to set him off in the first place with minimal effort. Hawks was your standard troll the handful of times they’d interacted, playfully digging at the older man in ways that he knew would set him off behind closed doors and then smiling through the tongue lashing. All Might was an unintentional irritant. His apparent ignorance to Endeavor’s self-imposed rivalry between them seemed to only further push Enji’s buttons regarding it.

And then there was Pro Hero Torrential, whose agency was their neighbor and Enji held equally strong opinions about. More times than not, he could be heard grousing about that “uncouth sea hag and her salty little hooligans” just across the way. Torrential herself was relatively skilled at what she did - well enough to rank in the top 25 - but she seemed to revel in firing Enji up more than chasing down baddies. Her own Quirk was water-based so she was always quick to use it to her advantage along with passive aggressive jabs just to prod at Endeavor’s ego. If Touya was honest, he didn’t understand his Father’s reasons for falling for it every time. After so long, he figured that it was the reaction that had Torrential poking and prodding like she did. Furthermore, there were 20 ranks separating them on the charts, so why should her opinion matter so much? Or was it more a matter of how frequently she was able to rattle his cage? However, Torrential was part of why Touya felt compelled to lie about who he was meeting up with.

Jin was also a Pro Hero by the name of Twice, who was Torrential’s faithful right hand man.

He shook his head and started to make his way down the halls to head out. As he walked through, he realized that it seemed Father was nowhere to be seen. Had he stepped out for something? He knew he was off work today, but it wasn’t impossible that something had come up. The man was a workaholic, after all. He felt himself relax at not needing to have any kind of story figured out. He stopped at the door to lace on his boots only to jump as Father walked in, Shoto and two of his little friends a few paces behind him. “Touya? Where are you going?” Enji asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, trying to keep the panic from being too obvious, when there was the sound of quick footfalls behind them. “Touya, you jerk! I told you I just needed an extra minute to finish getting ready!” All eyes shifted to Fuyumi as she came bustling into the entryway, pouting at her brother with her hands on her hips, all dolled up for a trip of her own.

It took Touya less than two seconds to roll with it. “Not my fault you take forever,” he drawled with an overly dramatic roll of his eyes.

Enji looked between his older two children with a raised brow. “Where are the two of you going?”

“Akiko and I wanted to go shopping today,” Fuyumi said as she stepped down to put her own shoes on, “but Mom was worried about us going out alone, what with all the escalated Villain activity lately.”

“So I offered to go with as bodyguard in exchange for Yumi paying for my grub,”

Shoto blinked slowly. “Hopefully you’re gonna have two servings, because I get the feeling they’re gonna use you like a pack mule,” he quipped flatly.

“Shoto! So mean!” Fuyumi gasped while Touya released a sharp bark of laughter. Shoto wasn’t always the best with his comedic timing, but when he was, he always nailed a bullseye!

Enji made a small noise of agreement. “I see. I was hoping you could help me with these three today, but this is much better,” the older man said with a small nod. “You two look after one another out there. And if you need anything, just call. We’ll be there at a moment’s notice if you need the assistance.”

“Of course, Father,” Fuyumi said, giving him a brief hug and quick peck to one cheek before waving at Shoto and his friends. “Have fun training, boys. And don’t let Father work you guys too hard.”

“I think it’s actually the other way around,” Touya hummed, grinning mischievously when Enji scowled at him. “You aren’t exactly a spring chicken any more, old man.”

“In yet I can still run circles around you,” he said back, the only shift to his expression being the slightest twitch to the left corner of his mouth.

“What did you sa-!” He was suddenly jerked away from the brewing squabble by Fuyumi tugging on his arm.

“Touya, you and Father can bicker later! We’re gonna be late!” With that final declaration, he was unceremoniously dragged out the door, Shoto and his friend with the green hair waving at them.

Once they were on the street proper, he readjusted himself and glanced sideways at Fuyumi. While her outfit was casual enough for a girl’s day to be plausible, he had his doubts. “So, what are you actually getting up to?” he asked suspiciously.

She flashed him an expectant look. “What, no ‘thank you’ for saying your floundering butt back there?”

“I wasn’t floundering,” he huffed.

“But you would have been the second you had to lie about what you were doing. Because clearly you’re going on a date. And with someone you think Father would disapprove of, if you feel the need to hide it,” she explained evenly. He winced and averted his gaze from her. Fuyumi was an incredibly quick woman, much to Touya’s simultaneous chagrin and relief. She was incredibly in-tune with the people she loved and could piece things out with them with the greatest of ease. This attribute could be a great asset or a detriment, depending on where her loyalties lay at any given moment. “Look, I’m not going to pry or anything. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

“Thanks, Yumi,” he said with a small sigh. He felt his shoulders slump a bit as he relaxed. Despite her occasional bratty little sister tendencies, Fuyumi knew when to keep certain things to herself. “Just… I’m going to talk to Father about it eventually. Probably. If anything more comes of this.”

“Not sure if this mystery man is gonna pass the first date test?” she asked while waggling her eyebrows at him playfully.

He contemplated answering that it wasn’t a date, but a work-related conference. Because he was still insisting to himself that it really was only that. “Not sure if I’m gonna pass the first date,” he grumbled quietly.

“Touya,” she said in quiet shock. He tried to ignore her by continuing to walk, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. He stopped and turned to face worried cerulean eyes. “Hey, if the first date doesn’t go well, that’s not your fault. It could just mean you two aren’t as good together as you initially thought.”

“Just like the last two guys I tried to get serious with?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about it, really. But it felt like… Well, outside of his family name, he didn’t have much to offer a boyfriend. His own rise to acclaim as a Pro was far from glamorous and he knew his tendency towards sarcasm and dramatics weren’t always the biggest appeals to lots of people.

Fuyumi huffed and reached up to lightly pat his cheeks. “Hey,” she said, her tone serious and firm in a delicate way that only she and Mom seemed capable of, “I know what you’re thinking and I’m gonna break down why you’re wrong. You’re successful, you’re funny, you’re smart, you know what you want and how to get it. And, most importantly, you know who you are and don’t put up with other people’s crap. Those guys before? They were just assholes who thought they could ‘fix’ you without realizing you don’t need fixing. It’s not your fault if they were intimidated by you and how comfortable you are in your own skin.”

He opened his mouth to say something before chuckling quietly and closing his eyes. “Damn, just cutting straight through, huh?”

She giggled and let her hands shift to carefully adjust the janked collar of his leather coat. “Now, cheer up! You’re clearly interested in this guy, whoever he is, so focus on having fun!”

“Fine, fine,” he mused, opening his eyes to glance at her again. He realized that they should probably iron out the details of their plan. It’d look suspicious if they came home without the other, after all. “So, how do we wanna deal with the rents when we get back?”

“Akiko’s already aware of the cover story, so I’ll let her know to cover for you, too, just in case. We were going to meet up for dinner around 5:30-6. You can join us for gossip, and then we go home together afterwards,” she suggested as they reached a crosswalk. He nodded as he hit the sign to keep going north, towards the train station, while she moved to go west. “I’ll add you to our text chat so that you know where to meet us at.” With that said, she waved and scampered across the crosswalk as it turned, lifting her hand to wave at a figure waiting on the other side.

Touya froze for a second as he took in the figure, wearing baggy clothes, large shades and a cap with a wide brim. The outfit was clearly a front to keep their actual physical characteristics hidden; whether to avoid the ire of the Todoroki men or not, Touya wasn’t entirely sure. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze as Fuyumi rushed to their side. They offered one of their arms to her, which she eagerly attached to, her back still facing Touya. The capped figure glanced up briefly and Touya froze at the sharp golden eyes fixated on him, followed by a sly grin.

He was tempted to follow after them but then the crosswalk chimed for him. He decided to leave it until later, given Fuyumi had done him a favor. He couldn’t shake his sudden hunger for barbeque-style chicken wings, though.

Thankfully enough, he showed up right on time at the agreed upon coffee shop. Bubaigawara was waiting out front for him, one hand in the pocket of the bomber jacket he was wearing while the other was scrolling through something on his phone. He perked up as Touya approached, his phone immediately disappearing into his pocket. “Hey! Hope it wasn’t a hassle finding this place,” he prompted.

Touya flashed a small smirk as he reached him. “Think I’ll be disoriented just because we’re in a shop on your agency's side?”

He chuckled and indicated the simple chalkboard display and Wooden hanging sign that read “Bean There, Brew That” above the front door of the shop. “More just because this place is a little bit of a hole in the wall. Owner’s a real sweet lady, though,” he assured before reaching for the door and holding it open for him. “After you, Dabi.”

He laughed as he slipped past. “I ain’t on duty; drop that formal bullshit. Just call me Todoroki or Touya,” he groused.

“In that case, Todoroki,” Twice said as he walked in after him, “fuck the formal bullshit with me, too.”

“Sounds good, Bubaigawara,” he agreed, allowing the other to lead him to the front counter. The shop, as he said, was a simple and laid-back place, with quiet piano music playing over the speaker and only two or three other patrons occupying the joint. The elderly owner was behind the counter, ringing customers up, while her grandkids helped her with preparing orders. Bubaigawara insisted on paying for both their drinks while Touya was sent to find a seat. He ended up selecting a spot by the window.

There was a soft thunk as his drink was set in front of him. “Fan of people watching?” Bubaigawara asked as he settled in across from him.

“Nice way to kill time,” he shrugged, sliding his drink closer. He carefully removed the plastic lid and watched the steam roll out in large uneven plumes, the strong and thick scent of fresh brewed coffee filling his senses. “Tended to do it a lot as a kid. Learned when a lot of the other kids were getting up to dumb shit.”

“Oh, that must have made you real popular with your peers as you got older!” he laughed.

Touya snorted himself as he took a sip of his drink. “Enough so that I got kicked out of my ritzy lil school,” he scoffed. The blonde haired man perked up at that, sipping his own drink and making a noise of interest. Realistically, Touya knew he shouldn’t be sharing this fact so early on. This information was more of a second or third date sort of thing. But… He also didn’t want to have to skirt around parts of himself. He was a work in progress and he wanted to make sure any potential partners were aware. “My first year at UA I got in a real bad fight with some other kid. Now, admittedly, I wasn’t exactly the scholarly type to start with, and I’d butted heads with this particular dick more than once. Ratted him out for cheating on a practical test so him and his buddies jumped me after school. Pretty sure I broke the asshole’s jaw and left him with some permanent burn marks.”

“Sounds like they deserved it, though,” the other said evenly. “I mean, they attacked you. And they outnumbered you. You were just defending yourself.” He took another sip of his drink and flashed an amused smirk. “Plus you’re the one that became a Pro, even without attending a proper Hero school. You’re the one that cared enough to still deserve a career in the field while I’d be willing to wager those dipshits all flunked out or are nothing but coffee jockies.”

Touya froze as he leaned to take another sip of his drink. He blinked three times in quick succession before shaking his head. “What?”

“What?” he parrotted back, glancing back up in surprise.

“You… You’re serious?”

“Yes…? I mean, again, they started it. Did they just expect you to roll over and take it? You wouldn’t just let a Villain you stopped from robbing a bank curb stomp you under the principle of alerting the police that they were going to be apprehended,” he pointed out, waving one hand as he spoke.

Touya continued to stare, mind reeling. While Father hadn’t been angry with him for getting thrown out of UA, he also hadn’t been thrilled. His pride in his son for doing what was right was undercut by his disappointment in that same son not showing the restraint he knew he had. The resulting lecture from Father had been a strange mix, trying to insist he stand by his morals but also knowing when to back down from a fight. Even to this day, though, Touya struggled with that specific concept. After all, it was up to Pro Heroes to protect the public, to assure law and order was upheld. If they didn’t hold other Pros to the same standard, what good was all their preaching? It would be nothing more than moral grand-standing.

“And, I mean, if it makes you feel better, I dropped out of middle school,” Bubaigawara said with another shrug.

“No joke?” Touya asked, relaxing at the table and leaning a bit closer.

He hummed. “That was around the time that, uh, my mental health took a nosedive. Struggled with that shit for a long time. Got this as a result of all that, actually,” he laughed lightly, reaching up to tap the long scar that ran down the center of his scar. Touya had only really seen it a handful of times and always assumed it was something medical, but now that he looked at it closer, he could tell that it wasn’t perfectly symmetrical like he always thought. “I… Kinda gave up, to be honest. Everyone around me gave up on me, so what was the point? I decided to just become who everyone assumed I always was for a good couple of years. But then… After the worst week of my fucking life… Captain found me.”

Touya blinked in surprise. Captain was the term that Torrential’s staff called her by. He knew part of it was as a show of respect and he’d heard she recruited her staff through unconventional means, but the details weren’t something he’d explored. “Huh… And she set you on the right path?”

“Don’t know if she really even meant to get me the way she did,” he confessed with a wistful smile. He sipped his drink and stared outside at the few passersby. “But long story short, she pushed me to follow my passions and gave me the encouragement I needed to do it. But I’ll tell you about that another time.”

A small chuckle escaped Touya at that. “I’ll hold you to that,” he hummed, feeling more at ease on this date than he had on any in the last three years.

And, yes, he finally embraced that he was on a date.

#My Hero Academia #DabiTwice #Dabi #Twice #DabiTwice Week #DabiTwice Week 2021 #my fics #TW: Mental Health Issues #TW: Violence #I had a lot of fun with this one!#These two most def have similarities in canon #So I wanted to highlight the idea of them having similarities in this AU as well

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gloriousfemaleworrier · 3 years

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All’s Faire (in Love and War) Chapter ONE!

AO3

There aren’t really a lot of draws for the town of Storybrooke, Maine, but perhaps the most magical event in the lives of all its citizens is the Storybrooke Renaissance Faire.

And it was that very Renaissance Faire that piqued the interest of 14 year old Henry Mills, who bursts through the doors of his aunt Elsa’s apartment in a blur of brown hair and enthusiasm.

“Mom! MOOOOOMMMM!!!!” Henry unceremoniously drops his backpack in a heap on the floor by his front door as he barrels into the entryway.

“Jeez, kid, could you be louder? I don’t think they heard you in Boston,” quips Emma Swan, Henry’s mother, from where she leans up against the refrigerator, which is decorated with colorful magnets filling the doors with images of Henry at various stages in life, as well as a few photos of two blondes grinning side by side.

Emma Swan and Henry Mills have been through their fair share of ups and downs throughout their lives, not the least of which resulted in Henry’s birth and Emma giving him up for adoption.

After a bunch of legal jargon and an ill-advised taxi to Boston, Henry and Emma were finally reunited eleven years later. The only issue was Henry’s adoptive mother, who was, in eleven year old Henry’s words, “pretty cool, but sometimes kind of frosty”.

So after a (thankfully brief) custody hearing, Henry has two moms, which has its perks, especially when his birthdays roll around. But until recently, he and Emma had lived with his other mom, Regina, in her spacious house in the suburbs of Boston.

That whole arrangement was screwed up when Emma’s best friend, Elsa Nordberg, got into a car accident. A fender bender with a little extra damage, she had said on the phone, but her ankle was out of commission for at least the next few months, which meant she needed to call in backup to wrangle her much younger - and extremely hyper - sister, Anna.

And that’s how Emma Swan, Henry Mills, and, reluctantly, Regina Mills, had found themselves moving to a miniscule town in the middle of nowhere at the end of February.

Regina had immediately balked at the sight of Elsa’s modest apartment, opting instead to rent a room at the local bed and breakfast.

“Share a place the size of my bathroom back home with four other people? Nuh uh, I don’t think so,” she’d scoffed. “I value my privacy, and I don’t want to be packed in like sardines next to all of you people.” And then there were four.

Fortunately, Anna Nordberg was about the most social human being Henry could ever hope to meet, which made adjusting to the new environment much less daunting. When he arrived in February, he knew absolutely no one in Storybrooke, but now, he has more friends than he knows what to do with, a fact he credits completely to Anna’s amicable nature.

It’s also partly due to Anna’s sociable nature that Henry first learns about the Renaissance Faire. It seems everyone in town is involved in some way with the Storybrooke Renaissance Faire, but Anna has been an actor in the Faire since its early days.

“It’s sooooo fun, Henry! All the kids come try out for it, and you get a costume, and it’s...the best thing ever!” Anna had gushed earlier that day during the last-day-of-school festivities. According to Anna, lots of things are “the best ever”, but Henry, a history buff to the last, is genuinely excited about the opportunity.

Which brings him to this very important conversation. Henry squints at his mother, who chortles at his expression. He tries to gauge based on her reactions, her outfit, even her hairstyle, whether or not she’s in a good enough mood for him to ask her his question, but she with her raised eyebrow, sweatshirt and leggings, and ponytail reveals nothing.

He takes a deep breath and decides to go for it.

“Have you heard that the Ren Faire is accepting volunteer applications for this summer?”

Emma raises an eyebrow. “The what now?”

“The Ren Faire!” Henry sighs. “Storybrooke Renaissance Faire? It’s supposed to be a big thing here.”

“And you ran here to tell me that they’re taking volunteers because-?” Emma’s mouth quirks up into a half smile as Henry’s exasperation grows.

“Momwillyoupleaseletmedothefaire?”

“Slow down and try that again?”

Henry blows out a sharp breath. “Can I please, please sign up to try out for Faire?”

Emma shrugs. “I’d say yes, but there’s gotta be a catch if you’re begging like that.” Henry smiles sweetly, choosing his next words carefully.

“There might be a rule that says kids can only work Faire if a parent works too?” Henry employs his very best attempt at puppy eyes as Emma flounders for some sort of restraint.

“Ugh, fine. Show me the paperwork I know you already have.” Henry pumps his fist.

“So basically you just have to sign off, then give the paperwork to Mr. J at school.”

“Mr. J?” Henry rolls his eyes.

“Killian Jones. The history teacher? I know I’ve told you about him before, Mom.”

Emma definitely remembers Killian Jones, from the singular time she’s seen him before. Sweet Lord, that man is handsome, but she’s in this for her kid and her kid only. She sighs.

“Hand me that pen, will you?”

#my fic #cs+ff #renaissance faire!#insp: well met by jen deluca

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a-pretty-nerd · 4 years

Text

Rebellion

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 2

Premise:

When The League of Villians discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you're in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word Count: 1,567

Warnings: Kidnapping, mommy/daddy issues? Fictional politics? Future chapters will include NSFW content and violence!

A/N:

I cannot describe how much fun I'm having writing this. Like I'm genuinley having a blast with this concept. The more I learn about Shigaraki for, "reseach purposes", the more I fall in love with him as a character. He's so complex, that character development, GOD! That charactet design, FUCK! The exploration of the complexities of mental illness from trauma and grooming, DAMN IT! He's becoming an anti-hero and I 👏 AM 👏 HERE 👏 FOR 👏 IT👏 Anyways, Don't forget to check out my Patreon! ❤

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

You passed out again. Dehydration.

You woke up in a sleeping bag. Your wrists and ankles bruised slightly from the restraints, but free. You laid there on the floor, looking over you noticed a few bottles of water and a granola bar. You took down one bottle in a matter of seconds before discarding it and starting the next. A horrible aching pain in your head raged on as you took in your surroundings. Light trickled in between the cracked of the barred-up window.

Your heart began to race as you began to sort through your options. Could you manage to escape through the window? Or were you on a second or third floor? Maybe if you asked to use the restroom, maybe there was a window there where you could get a better look.

Poor All Might, he must be so worried. Did even know you were missing? Of course, he knew, it wasn't like you to be out all night and gone in the morning. He'd probably called Mom by now, she's probably on a plane already. She's going to be furious.

After you finished a second bottle and the snack, you stood. You felt better. Not good, but better. You made your way to the door and knocked.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" You called.

"The doors open!" A new voice answered. The door let out a harsh creak as you opened it. It let out into the living space you had been in before. There, the majority of the villains surrounding you earlier sat around. You looked up to the figure that stood, leaning against the wall closest to the door.

"You're new." You mumbled.

"My apologies, Miss. I believed I was absent when you first arrived. I'm Mr. Compress." His sing-song voice reached out from behind a mask.

"A pleasure." You groaned back. "Why is the door unlocked, aren't you afraid I'll break free?" You asked the room. They all turned to look at you.

"I doubt you could fight all of us at once." The red-eyed man had the hand again.

"Bathroom?" You asked. Mr. Compress pointed you in the right direction and you walked off. The only window in there was way too small and too high up to help you. You finished your business and washed your hands before looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired and worn out.

You shuffled back into the living room and found the group lounging around. A Tv played the news non-stop. A few of them were passing the time by playing games on devices.

"I'm sorry...Who exactly are you?" You spoke to the room.

"Wow! You really are clueless!" The girl mused.

"Don't you follow hero news?" Patchwork asked. You shrugged.

"I never really paid attention to what was happening over here. All I know is what Dad has told me. He's mentioned 'The League of Villians' a couple of times, but I guess I wasn't listening. Hero news back home is, different."

"You know of All For One, don't you?" The red-eyed man asked without taking his gaze off the Tv.

"Yeah. You're his associates, or something aren't you? Like his henchmen?" A few chuckled.

"You can call me Toga!"

"Twice!"

"Spinner."

"Dabi."

"'Henchmen'...hehe. No, I wouldn't say that." Red-eye stood and began making his way closer and closer, holding a bottle of water in his hand. Careful to hold a finger away from it. "There is nothing I hate more than heroes. This wretched society that rewards such self-serving narcissists." Closer. "We seek to destroy it." Closer. You're backed against a wall now. You watched him place his last digit down on the bottle. It began to crumble before shattering to dust in his grasp. "My name is Shigaraki Tomura. You can consider me, All For One's heir. The future King of Villians." He came so close the wrist of the hand on his face rested dangerously close to your chin. His red eye stared down at you. Your heart raced.

"Oh yes. I've heard of you." You whispered.

"Good." He hummed before turning back and taking his seat again.

"How could you let this happen!?"

"I didn't know this would happen! She's strong, she's an adult now! I thought she could handle herself!"

"She's just a kid! She could be dead by now or worse!" Your mother cried. Her fists firmly slammed on the table where your father sat. Policemen and detectives scattered about the apartment. When you hadn't returned after a few hours, All Might went down to the gym. He found your bag, but no sign of you. First thing he did was call the police and then your mother. She arrived less than 24hrs after receiving the call.

“Please Ms. L/N, we’re doing everything we can. We’ve got the best team in Musutafu looking for her.” Detective Tsukauchi was the second person he called. He felt better knowing his friend was on the case, he had faith that if anyone could find you, it was Tsukauchi.

“Everyone knows if a victim of kidnapping hasn’t been found in the first 24hrs its hopeless! How could you be so sure about this?”

“I understand your frustrations ma’am, but we already have reason to believe we know who took her, and motive. At this rate, we’re just trying to track down their location.”

“Its the League isn’t it? They’re using her to get to me aren’t they?” Your father sulked in his chair. His eyes fixated on his hands which sat in his lap. He shook with fear, rage, disappointment, all targetted at himself. He took sole responsibility for your kidnapping. Your mother fumed across the table from him, arms crossed, and nails digging into her arms.

“Don’t beat yourself up, we’re going to find her,” Tsukauchi assured him. Your mother sat there, gritting her teeth as she gripped her phone.

“I have to go.” She spat as she got up.

“Huh!? You’re not going after her yourself are you?”

“No. I sent for Xavier, Y/N’s boyfriend as soon as I arrived. I’m going to meet him at the airport.

“Boyfriend? Y/N never said anything about a boyfriend.” Your father watched your mother walk towards the front door as she threw her jacket over her shoulders.

“Yes, well, there’s a lot about her you don’t know, Toshinori. I’ll be back.”

“What’s it like in America?”

Toga asked with a wide smile as you sat with them. It was odd, they seemed entirely unbothered by you walking around doing your own thing. The front door was right there, you could have made a run for it. You knew that was a bad idea. They knew, that you knew, that was a bad idea.

“Oh, it’s alright, I guess.” You sat on the floor against the wall beside her.

“I heard heroes work for the military there,” Dabi noted.

“Yeah, they are. Back home, heroes are organized into ‘Military aids’, or ‘police aids’. Meaning, if you want to be a hero, you have to choose between working for the military, or independent police forces. A lot of heroes go into police work because it allows heroes to be community-focused. But Military, that’s where the money is. If you want to be a hero celebrity, that’s where you work.”

“Yeesh, there aren’t any independent agencies?” Toga asked, pulling her legs to her chest.

“I guess the police offices work like hero agencies do here. It’s just a group of people who are authorized to use their quirks to ‘keep the peace’.” You used your fingers to create air-quotes.

“You don’t sound too keen on the idea.” She pointed out with a sly smile. You sighed.

“I know things seem bad here with heroes, but in America, it’s worse. The system was built so that people wish flashy quirks get the best out of life. It’s created a highly militarized country that only cares for those who have something to offer it. If you can’t serve your country, you’re considered trash.”

“I’ve seen the anti-hero marches online. Things seem really out of hand over there. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a league over there too.”

“It’s not anti-hero, it’s anti-military. If we could take away the idea that we’re supposed to serve the system, then heroes could be held accountable for their actions as individuals, not part of a flawed system. When you give these people so much power, they ultimately abuse it and leave the rest to rot.”

“You sound like a villain,” Dabi smirked. You sighed, having realized how loud you got. You were passionate on the subject. You spent your college years working to analyze and fight against the system. The system your mother so willingly played into and encouraged you to do the same. The system that killed your friend.

“Maybe here things are a little more simple. But back home not everything isn’t so black and white.”

“It isn’t here, either.” Shigaraki groaned from his place on the couch, facing away from you.

Taglist

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

#mha #bnha #Shiguraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Tomura Shiguraki #league of villians #LoV

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svnarintaro · 4 years

Note

Can I get #12 with Aizawa x Reader x Hizashi with them getting into a throuple?

that is so cute ACKK i can tell your the anon that asked if i wrote polyamorous drabbles and imagines and thank you for giving me a way to open my writing skills and giving me something to think of

prompt:

12. jk jk.. unless..

aizawa shouta x reader x hazashi hamada

jk jk.. unless

being hired at U.A for security meant a lot of pressure on you and your quirk. you could make an electrocuting barrier. you were recommended by your agency to protect the students and staff, and through that you became friends with the teachers. more specifically pres mic and eraserhead, since the students of class 1-A were constantly in danger so you were alway teamed up with aizawa.

the two of of you worked really well together in controlling the children. with pres mic it was a different story, hazashi was your first friend when you came to U.A and he never made you feel like you weren’t an outsider and helped you get settled down. you became close with the two of them and the three of you had a groupchat to discuss how to keep the kids more involved, you guys weren’t just friends for fun you all had a job as role models to the students.

aizawa was trying to get good ideas so he asked you two since in thw wise words of pres mic, ‘we are hip with the kiddos.’ so with a heavy heart he opened the group chat:

group name: we aren’t payed enough

zawa zawa

do you guys have any clue what i can use as an example for a good partnership for the kids to understand? my lesson plan looks really bad-

mix it up mic

HELLO? YOU HAVE ME AND Y/N !! WE ARE PRACTICALLY THE BEST PARTNERSHIP IN THE WHOLE FACULTY

itz y/n

mada’s got a really good point 😔✊

zawa zawa

i feel like i’m talking to a brick wall here-

itz y/n

well,, i guess a partnership can turn more into an alliance ? i mean you and i work really well together too shouta

mix it up mic

WoWzErs ThAt KiNdA HuRtED ME DoE BuT LiKe iLL bE A SiMp FoR ZaWa SeNpAi

zawa zawa

never use senpai and my name in the same sentence again..

itz y/n

leave the poor man alone i’m on the aizawa simp train with him and with that attitude imma jump off jk jk.. unless 😳

a blush crawled up on aizawa’s face, he felt flustered having someone as amazing as you to say something like that, so he accidentally left the group on read. while on the other side you were freaking out thinking that you slipped up and scared shouta away so you called hamada.

“what have i done?” you frantically balled your eyes out, you didn’t want your friendship to be awkward with that statement. you were never one to joke about feelings for aizawa like hamada, the two men knew how cryptic your words could be. “y/n he will understand.. i get what you meant back there-” thats when you snapped. “no you don’t i actually.. i.. i think i like shouta but there is something off about my feelings.”

hamada practically could feel his heart ache when you said you liked shouta. he had a crush on both you and shouta but he never told you two cause he thought it was too weird. so he supressed them as much as he could and every time he tried to flirt with either one of you, it was seen as a joke but it was okay since he could see that you were happy talking about shouta so he put aside his feelings and urged you to ask shouta out the next day during break.

the hour you were waiting for finally came. you were ready to ask shouta aizawa out but it just didn’t feel right to you. you finally saw a yellow sleeping bag. “shou!! can i ask you something?” in response to your question the sleep deprived man nodded. “i just wanted to explain myself yesterday.. i know it made you a little uncomfortable so i just would like to take you to that cafe you liked.” shouta was about to agree but he looked down. the feeling of regret filled the void of your stomach.

“i would love to but..” shouta looked past you and blinked slowly, “come out hamada i can see you want in..” you turned around to see hamada slumped over, “look guys i can go but i honestly dont want to be a third wheel..” the blond said with a solemn look on his face. “actually hamada..”

“i want you to come as a date as well.. cause i think i found the thing that was missing.”

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Protea (Part 11)

Snapdragon is unusually snappy today and Mai isn’t sure what it is. She supposes that the girl has to have at least one bad day eventually, Mai just wishes that she knew what was causing her poor mood.

She wonders if someone had discovered her factory and tried to take it from her. Or if one of her brothers had stolen something from her stash. More likely, she considers that someone at the palace had said something to her again, to make her question her hobbies.

The more Mai ponders it, the more she thinks that it is true. Though she continues to shamble up to her nest and acquire more things to toss into her steadily growing trash hoard, the woman’s face is curiously less smudged, and her hands are usually clean. As clean as they can be given that Mohi doesn’t have the sort of water that the palace does.

She finds the woman tucked away into her hoarding nest, fidgeting with a golden ribbon. She wraps it around her pointer, unwraps it, and warps it again. She isn’t sure that Snapdragon is staring at it at all.

“I thought that I’d find you up here.” Mai remarks. “That ladder is getting more unstable.” She shudders.

Snapdragon shrugs. “It’s fine.” Her voice lacks it’s usual spark and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Mai rubs her lips together before ultimately deciding to reach for the woman’s hand. Once she finds it, she feels Snapdragon’s fingers tighten around her own hand.

Quietly, Mai hold’s her hand to Snapdragon’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “The flowers should be here soon so we can open up the shop again.” She isn’t sure if this will cheer her girlfriend up any. “That’s exciting, right.”

She thinks that Snapdragon’s smile is more genuine this time. She nods, “Sounds nice.”

.oOo.

Nice isn’t exactly the word she is looking for, she is actually quite thrilled. Snapdragon does like the flowers and she thinks that Azula does too. They are soothing for Azula where they are joyful for her.

Her head hurts. She supposes that she will have to see which emotion wins out when the time comes.

“What’s going on, Snapdragon? Don’t tell me that those uppity nobles got to you?”

There is a nervous sort of twitching and fluttering in her belly, “what makes you think that something is wrong?”

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

But that is just it. She is acting like herself. For the first time in so long, she is acting like herself. Just not the self that Mai has grown used to. The self that she, herself has grown used to. “What do you mean?” She asks anyways.

“For one thing, you’re talking differently…”

The fluttering intensifies. For all of her confusion there is certainty. It comes in that Mai can’t know that she knows who she used to be. There is certainty in that Mai would hate her all over again if she found out. She doesn’t want to lose Mai a second time. The fluttering reaches a peak recalling the moment when the woman had drawn her knives, the moment she had been ready to turn them on her. It had hurt the day that it had happened...it is unbearable to think about now. Now, when the hand that had wielded the blades is gently caressing her cheek in loving little strokes.

“Where are your dirt smudges?” She traces her fingers along the spots on her cheeks and forehead most prone to mud and grease.

She isn’t sure how to tell Mai that she no longer likes the feeling of dirt smeared on her face and that her skin is crawling now that showers aren’t as regular as they had been at the palace. She thinks for a moment. “I like how it feels to be clean.” She says.

Mai tilts her head.

“I don’t mind getting dirty but I like smelling nice and feeling clean. My face feels less...stiff.” She replies.

Mai nods, “Have you never taken a bath before you went to the palace?”

Snapdragon thinks on it. And in doing though she thinks that it is safe to say that Snapdragon-Azula has never take a real bath before. She shakes her head. “Unless the lake counts.”

“You haven’t even gone to the communal bathhouses?”

Snapdragon shakes her head. This is another thing that she and Azula share; neither of them enjoy public bathing. Too many eyes, even if they aren’t focused on her. “I don’t like those. The lake is better.”

Mai chuckles. “Alright, I guess that, that makes sense. You’ve never been fully clean before so you didn’t know that it was something that you liked.”

Some of her tension eases away. Perhaps she is overthinking things. Perhaps, even without Azula creeping back in, Snapdragon would have enjoyed being cleaner.

“So what’s bothering you?” Mai asks again.

Snapdragon shrugs. “I just...I don’t feel well.” She makes a note to try to be happier. She will lose Mai if she can’t muster up the same spunk and enthusiasm that Snapdragon had.

“Do you want to stay at the palace again?” Mai offers.

Snapdragon nods. She can use another bath and Mohi could use a break from her antics.

.oOo.

She feels significantly more like Azula when she is wearing her own robes. She feels, perhaps more powerful than Snapdragon has been allowed to feel. Granted she still gets glowers and glares. They still look down upon her. Save for Yora, they don’t want her here. She is a nuisance. A dirty nobody. Inferior.

It makes Azula’s blood boil in a way that Snapdragon had been able to laugh off. It brings color to her cheeks. A sense of shame that she can’t seem to shake. But then, this had bothered Snapdragon too.

“They just aren’t used to people like you.” Yora mentions as she takes a comb to Azula’s locks.

“Uncultured peasants?”

“Kinder souls.” Yora corrects. “People who are easier to be around.” She takes a deep breath. “They are so used to being surrounded by other people who are pampered and spoiled that they don’t know what to do when someone like you comes around. Someone who is fun and carefree.”

Azula wishes that she were fun, carefree, and kind.

“Innocent.” Yora adds. “Though they tend to try to take advantage of innocence here. I like you, Snapdragon. You’re a good person. It is nice to groom someone who isn’t barking orders and particulars.”

She is offended and comforted all at one. She knows that Azula is picky, prone to particulars. And she supposes that she hadn’t been kind about it either. She feels horrible for having banished the one servant who is now being kind to her.

“How is this?” She holds a mirror up for Snapdragon to observe. She has been avoiding them since the return of her memories. And her reflection is now just as jarring as she had anticipating. Jarring because she knows that it is not truly her own. And yet, it is, she has seen it daily for such a long time now. She is both used to this body and disconnected from it. It is familiar and foreign all the same. She knows that she should be looking at a different face. A face that she sees everywhere in the palace but the mirrors. She isn’t sure why Zuko has kept portraits of Azula. Her head hurts all over again.

“It’s nice.” She answers.

“Are you alright?”

“Headache.” She replies simply.

Yora nods, “I’ll take you to the guest room. Unless you’d like to sleep in the princess’ room again. Mai mentioned that it was too open for you?”

She wants to sleep in her own room, “I just need…”

“More pillows than any one person should have a right to use?” Yora quirks a brow.

She nods. Yora has always caught on quick. Snapdragon’s stomach lurches again, the memories are hitting her left and right. They come back suddenly and overwhelmingly. She thinks that it might not be a lie that she is feeling physically ill. At the very least, she is truly feeling dizzy and hazy.

“Yora!” Ami snaps. “You were supposed to be helping with the laundry today. Forget about the commoner and do the job that you were meant to do.”

“I was just going to get her some pillows…”

“Extra pillows are in the servants quarters, down the make a left and then another left. You’ll see them.” Ami says to Snapdragon. “Get them yourself, Yora has work to get to.”

“Where is Mai?”

The woman scowls. “With the firelord. She doesn’t have time for you. And neither does Yora.”

.oOo.

Snapdragon doesn’t collect her pillows. She wanders hazily back to her room torn between storming back up to Ami and letting her know who she is dealing with and flopping down on her bed and trying to process everything.

She lingers in front of her bedroom door. She still feels so small standing before it. Perhaps she should go fetch herself the pillows, the nest was rather comforting…

“You must be Snapdragon.”

She tenses. This voice. She knows this voice. And it pulls at strings in her mind. Pulls more memories to the surface. Memories that Snapdragon can’t brush off.

She turns around and nods, “I’m Snapdragon.”

But she isn’t in this moment. In this moment, she is very much Azula.

“My name is Ursa.” She smiles. It is such a warm smile, it makes Azula feel sick and tearry. “Can I help you find something?”

“I was going to get some pillows.”

“I can fetch one of the servants.”

“Yora is busy, apparently.” Azula grumbles.

“Ami?”

Azula nods. Once upon a time, the woman had been her favorite servant…

“Follow me.” Ursa gestures. “You can take as many pillows as you want.”

.oOo.

Her mother is a sweet woman. She helps her perfectly arrange her circle of pillows and blankets. “I used to do this with Zuko all time.”

She had never done so with Azula. She tries to imagine what that would have been like. She shakes her head, she doesn’t have to try to imagine it; “I think that this one would look nice over here.”

Azula almost laughs. The woman is making an art of building pillow nests. Azula almost cries. She has the same inclination to make her pillow nest look prettier, more organized. She moves the pillow to where her mother had suggested. “Perfect.” She says.

Ursa nods in agreement. “I can send fpr Mai and with two cups of hot tea--three if you don’t mind me staying. I don’t think that a pillow nest is complete without tea and a story.”

“Do you have a story?”

“Many of them?”

Both Azula and Snapdragon want a story, even if it is for different reasons. Azula wants what has been deprived from her for so long and Snapdragon simply loves exciting tales.

.oOo.

For a moment apprehension leaves Azula. With candles to softly light the room and tea to warm her throat, she is comfortable. Very much so. She snatches up one of her pillows and hugs it to her chest as Mai props herself up against her.

Her mother smiles. It might be the one thing that Azula has done that she approves of. And perhaps it is only because she is looking at Snapdragon. Snapdragon who stirs excitedly when storytime begins. It takes her to a new place in her mind. A place with dragons and adventure. Though she supposes that her whole life has been an adventure, especially now that Snapdragon had taken control.

By Agni, she just hopes that Azula can keep the love and spirit that Snapdragon has.

She clutches Mai as tightly as she clutches the pillow. She isn’t sure how long she will be able to do so. She just knows that she can’t let go yet. She can’t lose Mai again. “Now this is more like my Snapdragon.” She hears Mai mutter.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Mai #Maizula #Fanfiction

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cuntess-carmilla · 3 years

Note

I have a question about disability. Not to make you the end all be all authority, but I wanted to ask someone.

I have a history of pulmonary issues (so far medically inexplicable), declining physical capabilities (even short bursts of activity now wind me, I regularly pull muscles or have pains/aches, several joint issues, etc) and just a shit body in general. These affect me on a day to day basis, but I’m still able to function: I can still move relatively quickly, reasonably lift things, etc. I don’t think that I will need benefits or anything, and I’m usually able to get through my day without a *major* incident.

Would it be appropriate of me to identify myself as physically disabled? I don’t know if there’s a ‘benchmark’ to being disabled or if I’m being dramatic and overstepping boundaries (if I am, please let me know, and I apologize in advance).

My motive is primarily for it being easier to explain to people why/how my body is limited, because my method up until now is to joke about it, which sort of makes it difficult for people to believe until something happens in front of them (which my friend said to me when I pulled a muscle bending to grab my bag and ended up hurting my spinal nerve). I’m just looking for guidance I guess. I don’t know if I’m objectively impacted enough to identify that way, but at the same time I’m starting to hate my body and feel trapped in it because of what I can and can’t do, or can no longer do. (Like if I broke my leg I’d be injured, not disabled, so I couldn’t say that I was...?)

I’m sorry for rambling in your inbox 😅 thank you for your time, and I apologize for any offense I cause(d)

You’re not overstepping, you’re not being dramatic, you’re not being offensive. I know exactly how you’re feeling about this because I went through it too and sometimes I still do. Like, I’ve been bedridden and still dealt with feelings of “What If I’m Just Lazy And Being Dramatic?” Everyone with invisible disabilities feels this way to some degree, always or from time to time.

This isn’t a certain foolproof notion, but generally, people who genuinely feel like they could identify as disabled yet pretty much have impostor syndrome about it, are disabled.

There’s no benchmark except for a legal one depending on where you live. But as for a social and political benchmark, the only one I can think of that’s somewhat universal (if there could even be such a thing) is that your conditions are impairing (severe, moderate or mild); even if you can “push through”, doing so takes a big toll on you; typically there’s a lot of issues with getting accessibility/assistance and people adjusting to what your level of ability actually is (for example: teachers/professors who don’t give a shit if a student missed too many classes because they literally could not physically leave their bed, even if they know they’re chronically ill).

I, in theory, can do a lot of things too, but doing them will leave my body destroyed for days or even weeks after. It can even be downright dangerous for me, as my joints dislocate very easily and it’s a pain I have to carry in silence with very little help. I want you to know too that I never realized how much physical pain I was in until I experienced my first day in years without it and that opened my eyes to how much I was actually struggling, so you may be thinking you do feel tired after pushing through but that it’s not that bad when it most likely actually is.

Able-bodied people don’t have to physically “get through” their day. Maybe they have some other disability or condition that does impair them, but if they’re able-bodied, it’s not their bodies doing that to them. In your case, it’s your body doing that to you. Able-bodied people don’t have to physically “push through” unless they’re doing something that’s objectively taxing for almost every person, much less often.

All the feelings you’re describing (hating your body due to how difficult it is to function in it, feeling trapped in it, resenting your limited ability, not knowing how to get people to take your physical pain and impairment seriously) are classic disabled feelings. You’re going through disabled experiences not just physically, but emotionally too, and that confirms it all to me.

I absolutely think you’re disabled, babe. Without a doubt.

You are disabled, and while being disabled on itself is no fun, there IS a community you can fall back into, for everything from emotional support and comradery, to tangible help and solidarity. If it wasn’t for other disabled people, including my specialist who’s disabled with 2 out of my 3 chronic illnesses, I’d be nowhere. I would’ve never even realized that there was something wrong with my body to begin with, it was other people with hEDS, seeing me post about my recurrent painful dislocations as if they were a quirk of my body, who told me that that sounded like hEDS and I should research it.

Maybe some fellow disabled people will be assholes to you about this because there are some who like to play disability olympics, especially against those of us whose disabilities aren’t obvious to the eye, but I want you to know that those aren’t the majority at all from what I’ve seen. You’re one of us and you don’t have to deal with this alone anymore. This is your home and we’re here to support, educate and help each other.

#Anonymous #disability

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

He Was a Satyr Boy

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Satyr X Female!Human Warning: Fluff, Respecting boundaries, Penetration, Satyr and human relationship, Critical Role mentioned, timid or shy characters

Word Count: 8604

A shy Satyr catches the interest of the cute comic book store girl

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Today is slower than usual. Generally, comic book stores aren't super busy on a workday but today was especially boring. I've gotten all my work done around noon leaving several more hours of my shift left to fuck about. I lean against the glass counter near the register and look over the empty store. I huff and try to entertain myself by reading the posters around the room for the hundredth time.

Reading the green lantern motto for the 6th time I'm ecstatic to hear the chime of the front door. Looking over I see a satyr walk in. I immediately notice his antlers protruding from his curly brown hair. He is a skinny man, not particularly tall. Might be the same height as me if I were to guess. An inch or two taller. He is sort of cute, not my normal type but still eye candy. Especially wearing a fitted hoodie and loose pants. He has a softness to him, a gentle aura.

I don't call out to him, welcoming him to the store. I just watch as he shoves his hands into his pouch then looks around way too much. As he walks further inside he catches my eye. He gives a curt nod then walks around with his head down. I watch as he paces through each aisle before stopping at the books. He skims through them and picks out two. He cradles them close to his side then makes his way to the register. Only briefly glancing at me he sets the items on the counter.

"This all," I ask. He glances up and nods.

"Yes, this is all. I don't have money for more, your stuff is expensive," he sort of rambles. Edge of my lips quirks at him. I scan his items and wait on him to either pull out a card or cash. He fumbles with his pockets to his loose pants and pulls out a wallet. He produces a card and swipes it to the machine.

He pays and a receipt prints. I push the books to him and hand him the paper. He doesn't say anything as I pass him his things. He takes them quietly and nods before heading to the door.

"Have a nice day," I surprise myself by calling out. It seems to have startled him too. He looks over and gives a nervous smile.

"You too." With that, he leaves. I watch till the door closes, a little captivated by his departure. When I finally look away to the now empty store I hardly notice to half-smile gracing my face.

I'm a little confused to see him the next day around the same time. The store is a little more full, normal for a Tuesday since there is a sale going on for comic books. Perhaps that's why he is back? I try not to pay him any mind as I ring up people but I can't stop glancing at him curiously. He wonders around the store, catching eyes with me a few times. This piques my interest even more.

I barely listen to the man rambling on and on about god knows what. I give him a few nods but couldn't care less. I keep glancing over his shoulder at the nervous satyr browsing the store. I'm not sure why I'm so inquisitive but he is keeping my attention. Perhaps its why he is back after saying he had no money. Or the fact he isn't even looking at the comics that are on sale. What could he possibly need?

I lose focus on him when someone comes up with a question.

"Do you guys have any captain marvel comics," a stout woman asks.

"Far-right wall, under the popular section," I point behind her. I hope this is the end of the conversation but sadly it isn't.

"Oh. Can you show me, I didn't see it over there," she gives an apologetic smile. I look over at the satyr, then back at her.

"Yea, come on," I walk from around the counter. I lead her to the right wall. She keeps asking questions even when I found the box for her. She draws on so long my coworker works the register and checks out the satyr. I see he bought another DnD book, Just the one. He leaves before I even get back to the counter.

I don't see him the next day, hardly surprised. I actually don't think about him, having no reason to. My fascination is but a product of boredom mixed with seeing someone so cute. I've never seen him before, knowing most of the people around the town. It's rare to see someone new and even more rare to see them two days in a row. Still, it seems he is gone now.

I think as such till I see him Thursday. I don't notice anyone walked in as I clean the glass countertop. It isn't until he sets his item down beside me that I acknowledge him. I give him a confused look for a second, wondering what he is doing back here.

"Hi," he curtly smiles, "I forgot the monster guide." I look from him to the book, another DnD guide.

I look back up at him," so you did." He nods as I grab the book. I scan it and prepare the machine for him to pay. I watch him pull out his wallet, I felt the need to fill the silence.

"You know we hold campaigns here every Thursday night," I cock a brow at him. He seems to startle before staring back.

"Oh," he tilts his head. His hair brushes over his forehead and the corners of my mouth quirk.

"They are run by Steven who set it all up, anyone is welcome. Starts tonight around 7, if your interested," I inform.

"Oh, thanks but I don't think that would be good for me. I'm busy around then but thank you. I appreciate you telling me. I guess you figure from all the books I've bought that id be playing this but it's just to read. I don't actually play, I've just been watching a campaign online. I wanted to follow along, you know," he rambles. I don't feel like interrupting, just resting my elbow on the counter. "It's a good show, very funny. I don't know if you have heard of it, but you might have. Its a bunch of voice actors playing DnD, so they get to use their acting skills to bring the characters to life. It's super neat," he continues.

"Critical role?" I cock a brow.

He grins widely, "yea, do you watch it?"

I tilt my head and regard him," not really." He deflates, it almost makes me wanna lie just to get him to ramble some more.

"Well, it's worth a listen. Even if it's super long," he collects his book off the counter," well ill see you around. Bye." I wave then he turns and walks out. I watch him the entire time, huffing in amusement when his antlers scratch against the door.

I stand back up with a little smile, "what an adorable man."

I stay a bit after, organizing some of the figurines in the displays. I know I'm sticking around just to see if he shows up, I'm not going to convince myself otherwise. I'm also not surprised to see he doesn't show up. Which is fine, it was a bit last minute so I can't expect him to not have plans.

It is a surprise when he shows up next week.

The week was slow and I hardly thought of the cute satyr. I noticed he hasn't been back since last Thursday but that was the extent of my thoughts. By Wednesday I've forgotten him, mostly.

Thursday night comes and I'm sorting through the comics for ones that don’t belong. I hear the gang setting up near the back. Getting the table together and their items out. I finger through the thin booklets, pulling out any that wasn’t Batman. I lose focus when I hear the bell at the front door. I look up and chuckle when I see the satyr. I stop what I'm doing and head over. Noticing immediately that he was fidgeting. He was looking around a lot and bouncing from leg to leg. He stops when he catches my eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was a little confused about where the campaign takes place. I looked on the website and it said that it happens in the store, which is what you said, but I don’t know where in here it is and I didn’t want to just walk on in and wander around," he nervously laughs," it is tonight right?"

my lips quirk," Yes." I won't elaborate, seeing if he will talk some more.

"Oh, good," he looks behind me then back at me," I've been looking through the books. Good reads, it's so elaborate. Still, it’s a lot to learn. I tried to do a crash course on them last Thursday but I was too worried id make a fool of myself. So that’s why I didn’t show up, I didn’t want to be the one asking all the questions. It would take away from the fun of everyone else. I mean I still might ask questions, there is a lot to learn. I hope that no one minds a newbie joining. I really studied, which sounds weird to study for a hobby, but I was nervous. You know, I might actually just watch, or come back later. I don’t want to take the fun from everyone else." I listen to his ramblings, cocking a brow as he tries to talk himself into leaving. Deciding to help him out I step beside him so we are both facing the room. I notice that he is just an inch or so taller than me.

"Come on," I nudge his shoulder then walk ahead. He startles but follows along, keeping his hands in his hoodie pockets. I smirk to myself as I lead him to the back. Once we turn the corner the patrons perk up. All of them looking towards us curious. I glance over at the satyr and see he is hiding in himself. Bunching his shoulders and ducking his head into his jacket. I nearly coo at the sight.

"Who's this," Steve asks with a friendly smile. I don’t answer but nudge the Satyr to speak up. He jumps, staring over at me shocked before looking back at the group.

"Uh, I'm Jensen," he nods in greeting," hello." I quirk a smile at the greeting. Jensen.

"Well, howdy there Jensen. What brings you to our little hobble," Carley asks before anyone else could. Jensen looks from her then back to me. I nod towards the group as encouragement.

"I'm here for the, uh, campaign," he nearly stutters. I find myself taking a step closer to the poor lad. Matt notices and passes me a glance, raising a brow. I pay him no mind and wait for Jensen to join the group.

"Well that’s great, we always have room for another traveler," Steven shouts jovially," please come sit." I look from the gang to Jensen, content with his wide grin. He walks forward and takes a seat between Matt and Steven. I take one more look at the lads before turning to leave.

"Would you like to join," Carley calls. I turn to face them, the words 'no' ready on my lips. I'm a bit surprised to see Jensen practically begging me with his eyes. Watching me with bated breath for my answer. I'm still ready with the 'no' but looking at him makes me want to change my mind.

I have never played with the group, having been invited nearly every night. I generally have things to do and rather get home quickly once they finish up. It's not like I have anything pressing at home, I just rather be there. I begin to doubt my choice, near caving just to get to spend time with the nervous Jensen.

"Ok," I answer shortly. I nearly smile when I see Jensen's little grin. He has a cute smile.

"Really," Matt tilts his head. I don’t answer but walk towards the table. I grab a chair from the wall and sit on the opposite end of Steve. I look at the three's suspicious faces, knowing they are probably trying to figure out any reason why I'd choose now to join. Of course, the genius bunch looks towards Jensen and piece together their own theories. I'm not above admitting it, I want to hang out with him. He is cute and I find his rambling adorable. Depending on how tonight goes I may develop a crush.

The night goes alright, everyone was boisterous and engaged. Everyone seemed to have fun, including me. Jensen was shy at the start but grew into his own as everyone kept him included. I appreciated that. I didn’t want to be the only one trying to keep him out of his shell. Id hates to look over and see him cave into himself with nerves.

Around two hours later the gang packs up and says their goodbyes. I walk away before they could start interrogating me, getting started on the work I put off. Once I hear the chime of the bell I head back over to the table, startling when I see Jensen still packing up. I grin to myself and head over, sitting across from him.

He looks up and smiles," Hey." I nod in greeting," man those guys are so nice. The woman, Carley was it, she gave me some of her dice. They look so cool, got a holo look to it. Reminds me of opals, it's so cool." he holds the 20-sided die up and rotates it back and forth. Showing off the rainbow reflection on it.

"So ill take it you had fun," I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. I smile at him, feeling his own grin to be contagious. He looks from the die back to me, his toothy grin making me feel gushy.

"Yea, it was so grand. Steven has such an imagination on him, this wasn’t what I expected at all," he leans onto the table with his elbows," I can't wait to come back and partake in whatever the next adventure will be. I might try being a sorcerer next time. That is if we are allowed to change our characters. I like mine right now but I do wanna experience the other classes. Does he do different campaigns every time?"

"Yes," I nod.

"That’s great! I'm so glad I came, I was so nervous that I paced around my apartment before coming here. I figured since I just moved here it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends but I was nervous mostly for that reason, not knowing anyone. It helped that I know you, I was really banking on you being here. If you weren't I would have probably walked out," he nervous laughs, looking at the table," also thanks for joining, I could tell it isn't something you usually do."

"No problem, it was fun," I answer honestly.

We chat for a little longer before I have to shut down the store. He leaves shortly before, promising he will be back next week. I find myself getting a little giddy at the idea of seeing him again. Tonight went well, I think I can confidently say I have a crush on him.

He visits twice before Thursday, one of the days I heard from Matt when he was the one working. The day I got to see him was nice, we chatted a bit before it got busy and he left. Along with his two visits, I've been getting the 2nd degree from Matt.

"So you like him," he cocks a brow as he lounges against the counter. I shrug noncommittedly, knowing it's going to rowel him up. He drops his head back and groans at my non-answer," Don’t give me that. I don’t know the last time you were interested in someone, I've only heard stories of your past boyfriends. The tall hunky lads with more muscles than sense. So excuse me for wanting to boy talk with you." I pass him a glance, debating on being a prude with my thoughts. It was none of matt's business on who I liked and didn’t like. Still, I'd admit that the idea of gossiping is tempting.

"Yes, I have a thing for him," I bite my cheek to stop from smiling. I don’t need him poking fun just yet. He startles at my words, perhaps shocked I even said anything.

He twists around and leans his elbows on the table," I was just teasing before, I didn’t think you actually wanted him. He is so not part of your portfolio, he is so timid and lithe. Hard contrast to your previous interest." I pass him a cheeky grin while pretending to read the magazine in front of me.

"He is cute, and I think his ramblings are adorable," I answer. Matt deadpans at me, not really getting what I'm saying.

"You like his ramblings? What happened to the woman who dated big bulky men, hell the last dude I heard you dated was an orc. Like how would you go from something that big to someone like Jensen," he tilts his head trying to catch my eye. I glance at him but continue to look at the pages.

"I just like him, not everything has to be dissected and viewed from every angle. I think he is cute and I enjoy his company," I answer bluntly. Not everything has to be over analyzed to its basic form. I don’t have to uproot my childhood to figure out why I find Jensen so attractive. I just do, and that’s ok.

Matt doesn’t like my answers but he leaves me alone after another five minutes of arguing.

Thursday comes quickly to my joy. The gang sets up and Jensen shows up shortly after they do. I watch him walk from the door straight to the back, resting his bag on the table as he too sets up. I stay in the corner, finishing up my work. I'm content on just sitting this one out, but of course, if he asks I can't say no.

"Where is she," Jensen asks as he looks around.

Steven looks up at him," she is working. She generally doesn’t contribute to these things."

"Oh," Jensen looks dejected. I actually feel bad for having to work. I guess if I rush I could come over for a little. I bite my cheek as I try to figure out anything I could close early.

Around an hour later I make some time, skipping out on stocking for the night. I can just do it tomorrow anyway. I step around the bookshelf and watch the table from the sidelines. Listening to Steven paint the picture, then the gang reacting. I watch Jensen for a bit, smiling a little as I see the enjoyment on his face.

I startle when Carley calls outs," You just going to stand there or you going to sit down?" Everyone turns to me, only Steven turns back to the table.

"Oh hey," Jensen grins," Come, sit." he pulls out the chair next to him. I walk over and take the offered seat, not missing Matt's big smile.

I spend the next hour listening to and watching their game. Keeping quiet on the sidelines just enjoying their jovial behaviors. The mission comes to an end, leaving on a happy note. I stretch and get up before the others could begin packing. I wave to the group and go back to closing.

I count out the register as Jensen stops by the counter," Hi." I finish off the set of ones and give him a friendly smile.

"Hi," I say back.

"Watcha doing," he rests his elbows on the counter.

"Counting out the drawer, make sure I'm not missing anything," I answer as I count out the twenties.

"Are you the manager here or owner," he asks. I get what he is doing, trying to start up a conversation. I appreciate the company, so I answer.

"I'm technically a manager, but it feels like I'm the owner most of the time," I shuffled up all the money and places them back in the drawer.

"Why is that," he watches as I close out the register.

"I do everything here. I make the calls, stock the store, fix the store, advertise for the store. I think the owner just wanted to own a comic book store but not actually run one," I walk around the counter and to the backroom. Jensen follows, staying at the door when we get to the office. He keeps me company as I deal with the paperwork of the day. Dealing with return receipts and new stock.

The night feels like it goes by quickly, probably Jensen to blame for that. He is nice to talk to. Once he comes out of his shell he is funny. Still rambles but it's with fewer nerves and more just enjoyment of the topic. I finished up my work about twenty minutes ago but I didn’t want to send him away just yet. I'm content listening to him talk about his job as a Graphic Designer. He seems to be very passionate about it, grinning widely as he talks.

The conversation starts to die down as we both begin to yawn. I look over at the clock and see we are forty-minute past close. We both decide its time to leave. I walk him to the door and he waits for me as I lock up. I turn back to him and prepare for goodbye.

"Well, today was nice. Thanks for chatting with me, I didn’t mean to make you stay so late. I know I tend to talk too much, I get it can be a little annoying so don’t be scared to tell me to shut up," he tries to laugh but it’s a little self-deprecating. I watch him for a minute, probably making him feel uncomfortable.

I find myself sputtering out the first thing that came to mind," Do you wanna go out sometime?"

He startles, "What?"

"Do you," I point to him," Want to go out with me," I point to myself. He still seems lost.

"Uh," he short circuits, not really getting what I'm saying. He looks uncomfortable and I can't lie, it hurts a little.

"Hey, you don’t have to. It's ok if you don’t," I try to give him an out.

He shakes from his stupor, "No, I want to. I'm just a bit shocked."

I regard him curious," Shocked? Why?"

"well," he rubs the back of his neck," its just-because- you know."

I smile," No I don't think I do know."

"Its cause- because," he huffs," Because you are you. The super hot comic store girl. I didn’t think you would like me." I can't stop my chuckle. I've never had a guy assume I wasn’t into them, especially when I feel I've been obvious.

"Well, I do. So would you like to see a movie this weekend," I try again since he never really answered.

"yea," he grins widely," I'd love to."

I give Jensen my number and tell him to write. We depart with dorky grins on our faces, leaving for our respective homes.

The weekend comes quick and I meet Jensen at the store. We walk together in a bit of awkward silence. I can basically feel his tension rolling off him. I can't help but try to think of ways to relax him, make him feel comfortable. So I ask him about his job and he takes the in. This seems to work until we make it to the theater. when we go to sit his tension rise again. I try to keep the conversation going but when the movie starts its harder to keep him calm.

I watch him out the corner of my eye the entire film. He fidgets his hand in his lap, not really focusing on the movie. I feel bad he cant enjoy this. I'm running out of things to try, so I go for broke and grab his hand. I interlock my fingers with his and rest them on the armrest. His grip is a bit tight so I rub my thumb to his skin in an attempt to calm him down. Surprisingly it works, he loosens his grip with a sigh. He gives me a quick squeeze then leans back in his seat. I go for broke again when I lay my head on his shoulder. He jumps but doesn’t do anything to push me away. I will take the win.

The movie ends and it wasn’t that great. Probably should have picked a better one. Still, I had fun, only because it was with Jensen. After we got up he grabs my hand again and we walked out together. It was sweet, which is something I never had with my exes. They were a bunch of dumb jocks looking for their next nut. It was fine at the time because I wasn’t expecting much but it was unfulfilling. This, with Jensen, feels good.

We walk back to the store where we chat under the awning. With a brief hug, we part ways, making plans on the phone for another date. I sit in bed that night smiling like an idiot, not wanting to put the phone down till I nearly pass out on my own.

We go on a few more dates after that, nothing getting too intimate besides a kiss on the cheek. We see movies, go out for dinner or go to one of our places to cook. Then every Thursday we talk for hours, even texting once we got home. I like him a lot.

One day while talking at the store he kisses me. I'm startled when it happens, he gets embarrassed and tries to back away. I don’t let him get far and kiss him. Since then the relationship has gotten more intimate. Spending dates snobbing anywhere private like a pair of teenagers. He shocked the gang one night when he kisses me hello. They all had their guesses but we never gave them answers. Since then they have taken to picking fun of us, trying their best to get us to blush. Of course, I was a little harder to crack than Jensen. Still, it was cute to see him get all flustered. Sometimes I joined in on the teasing and give a big kiss to his cheek.

As much touching as we have done we never have gotten around to discussing sex. It was becoming more prominent as some make out sessions left us both a bit bothered. He never initiated anything so I didn’t push, it was fine. But one night while we are sitting on my bed talking he surprises me.

We lounge on my bed looking through his phone at videos he saved. One thing leads to another and we start making out. I have my fingers buried in his soft curly hair, my other hand petting over his chest. I want to badly run it under his shirt, feel his skin on mine. I don’t try to push my luck, wanting him to take the leap.

His fingers clench at my hips making my insides burn. He hesitates in the kiss, but not stopping as his hands play with the hem of my shirt. He slides them under my shirt, gliding them over my hips up to my waist. I find myself gasping and leaning back. Our breath mingles together as I wait for his next move. I can feel his finger shake as he tries to move up but he can't bring himself to do it. I resume petting over his chest, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Telling him in actions that it's ok to go on.

He gains some of his nerves and smooths his hand over my skin. Petting and groping up to my bra. His breath stutters as his thumb timidly traces over the fabric. His breathing stops when he hooks a finger underneath, sliding over till his index touches my boob. He sucks in a gasp, pausing his hand as he catches his breath. I continue kissing his neck and petting his hair. Giving him all the time he needs.

Jensen rests his head against mine before moving to cup my chest. He sighs, tickling my head with his breath. His palms are warm against me, if not a little sweaty. He gropes softly, rubbing his thumb over my hardening nipple.

"so soft," he mumbles to himself. I peck his neck in answer. He continues to grope and squeeze, content in just this for the time being.

Soon he leans back and tugs at my shirt. Asking with his eyes if I could take it off. I don’t even hesitate, I lean back and pull the clothing off. I throw it onto the floor. When I look back at Jensen I nearly laugh, he is captivated by my nearly bare torso. I grin at him as I lead his hands back to me, hinting at him to take my bra off on his own. He catches on and fumbles to unhook the back. He manages well and helps pry the straps off my arms. He tosses the bra off the bed and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches for my chest, watching as his fingers rub my nipples. I leave him to go at his own pace, sighing at the sensations of his hands. He surprises me by leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I choke on my words as his tongue swirls over my bud. I pet along his head, tugging softly on his hair when he sucks on me.

He laves attention on both sides, taking his time to both enjoy and make sure I enjoy it. I feel the all too familiar weight in my stomach, my crotch throbbing with need. I know better than to force anything but its starting to get hard too. I'm happy when he takes another step, pushing me back and crawling over me. He leans down and captures my lips, giving a rather fierce kiss. He continues to cup my chest with one hand, seeming to not be able to get enough. I press my luck and slide one of my hands down his chest, sliding under his shirt and feeling his warm stomach. He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t react. I continue moving up, pulling up his shirt as I go. He lets me, even leaning back to take the clothing off himself.

Once the article is removed he smiles down at me before kissing me again. I return the kiss but turn away so I can get a good look at his newly revealed torso. He pecks down my neck as I pet along his chest. I go up to his shoulders then going slowly down over his pecks, rubbing his nipples as I go past. He licks over my neck before sucking on my skin. I gasp with a grin then trace my nails over his stomach. I chuckle when he sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching as I near his pants.

He stops his assault on my neck, waiting patiently for my next move. I reach over his hips, sliding into his pants as I do. I feel his soft fur, raking my fingers through it as I pet his hips. He rests his head against my neck, watching my hand between us. His antlers rake against the headboard but neither of us pays it any mind. I cautiously run my hands towards his front, keeping my pace deliberately slow in case he wants me to stop. He doesn’t react, perhaps not even breathing as I reach towards his cock.

When my fingers are finally touching him we both jump. His antlers thud against the wood startling me. I pause my hands near his dick. He takes a minute to catch his breath before leaning down and pecking my shoulder. I take that as a sign to continue. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him. I hold him then wait for any signs he wants to stop. His breathing is shallow and rushed, his posture tense. Still, he kisses my shoulder, nuzzling his face to my neck.

I stroke him in a loose grip, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock. He is a well-hung satyr, staying on par with a lot of my exes. He is thick but perhaps averagely long. He is warm and I can feel something wet running down from his tip. I'm curious what he would taste like.

Getting too caught up in the feel of him I don’t notice his whimpers. For a moment I think they are good till he lifts his head away from me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, stopping my motions on him. His eyes are clenched and his breath is still shallow. It doesn’t come out even but in ragged, scared patterns. He looks more than a little nervous.

Without much thought, I retract my hands from his pants. Petting up his stomach and chest to his neck. I tilt his head towards me and give him a peck on the lips. He squints open his eyes, I finally get to see the fear in them. That decides it.

I roll him off me and lay him on his back. He follows without a fight, looking at me curiously and worried. I give him a smile before reaching for my blanket and throwing it over us. I lean over to my nightstand and grab the tv remote. I lay down beside Jensen, laying my head on his chest. I rest my hand on his stomach then turn the tv on.

He doesn’t say anything as I boot up YouTube. He is still breathing hard but he has rested his hand on my naked back. I pull up my unfinished video then fully rest against Jensen. The video plays and I can feel him perk up when he realizes what we are watching. I've been watching Critical Role so we had more to talk about, its not a bad show but its so long.

Soon Jensen relaxes and watches the show. At some point, he started petting my back and holding my hand on his stomach.

"Thank you," he mumbles. I turn my head and look up at him. He adjusts and looks down at me. He looks calmer now, if not a little content. I hum in acknowledgment and kiss his chest. He hums too with a relaxed smile on his face. We turn back and watch the show.

We never say anything about what happened, it being pretty self-explanatory. He wasn’t ready, and that’s fine. We soon fall asleep half-naked in each other's arms. It’s a peaceful rest, best night sleep I've had in a while.

I wake up the next morning to the feeling of something repeatedly touching my face. I squint my eyes open as I feel something wet against my nose. I first see Jensen smiling at me. He leans down and places another kiss to my cheek then to my chin.

"Morning," he mumbles as he kisses my lips. I hum into the kiss, happy to return it full. I sit up and cup his face as we make out. It’s a bit sloppy for a morning kiss but ill take it. He reaches over and pets over my back, his cold hand causing chills over my spine. I gasp into the kiss making him smile.

He surprises me by sitting up and pulling me over his lap. I balance myself by holding his shoulders. The coldness of the room makes me shiver as I remember my lack of a top. Of course, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind as he slides his hands up my thighs, over my hips, on my stomach to my chest. He watches his hands as they cup me. He pinches at my nipples, smiling when I suck in a breath. He leans forward and begins kissing up my collar. Trailing licks and nibbles over to my neck then jaw. He drops his hands to my hips and grinds me down onto his hard cock. I startle at the suddenness, curious if not pleased with the turn of events. What a way to wake up.

Using whatever bravado he has gotten this morning he grabs my ass and squeezes. He huffs against my neck as he bucks up to my crotch.

"You seem excitable this morning," I gasp near his ear.

"I have a wonderful woman in my arms, what's there not to be excited about," he chuckles. I laugh with him before grinding my hips to his, relishing his groans. We go back to making out but this time he reaches between us and cups my crotch. I startle, sucking in a breath as he fingers me through my pants. He pets me a few times but decides it isn't enough. He slides his hand into my pants and touches me directly. Petting along my slit then diving his fingers inside.

"Very excitable," I gasp. He leans back against the headboard and watches me. Having a pleased grin on his face. A better look than last night. I can't help but lazily smile back, happy that he is comfortable.

His fingers pump and curl inside me, testing out every bump and crevice to see which makes me groan and gasp. I enjoy this different side of him, his smirk is all the more arousing. He adjusts his hold and gets his thumb to rest over my clit, giving timid circles. I try not to grind with him, not wanting this to end so soon. Just enjoying the soft strokes and pumping fingers. His other hand pets over my thigh, everything moving slow. He takes his time, just looking pleased to watch me.

I look down at his chest, my hands following my gaze. I feel his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart pounding at his chest. His face is calm despite his rushing blood and hard cock poking my ass. My fingers trace over his stomach and down to his pants. I feel the tufts of fur poking up, the happy trail disappearing behind his bottoms. As I play with his pants he slows his motions then removing his hand altogether. His face is focused but still calm. He rests both of his hands on my thighs, not moving or giving any indication of what he is feeling.

I hook my finger on his pants while keeping eye contact. I cock a brow in question. His lips quirk slightly, his emotions very different than last night. He nods his head while petting up my thighs a bit, fingers twitching with hidden nerves.

I sit up off him and pull his pants down to his knees, keeping his boxers on. I can't help but smirk at the tent in his underwear, feeling a little confident because of it. I reach for his bottoms but look up at him again, just making sure.

"I trust you," he mumbles while giving a nod. I grin like an idiot, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I hook my fingers to his boxers, brushing my nails against his skin. I pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping back against his stomach. I suck in a gasp, feeling a wave of arousal flow over my cunt.

"Oh," I gasp. I stare at his swollen member, appreciating its girth. His tip is red and wet, his shaft presenting a lovely prominent vein. I can barely see his balls, just seeing the curly hair flowing under his underwear. Using a finger I push his bottoms down more, brushing against his sack. He jumps at the contact, making me snap my eyes to him. He is chewing on his cheek, seeming a bit nervous. Not nervous like before but a little self-conscious.

He catches my worried look," I'm fine, just… you are staring." he looks away still chewing his cheek, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. I want to coo but I know it will embarrass him. Instead, I lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock, and kiss his cheek.

I whisper near his ear," you just look so good, I kind of want a taste." his shoulders drop as his head thumps against the headboard. He clenches his eyes and groans.

"God," he drops his head to his shoulders," maybe later." I lean back to look him in the eyes but he is still tilted away from me. So I grab his antlers, guiding his head back to me.

I cock a brow," later?" he stares at me a bit wide-eyed, worried he said the wrong thing. To ease his tension I lean forward a peck him on the lips," I like the sound of that." he smiles. I take his lips for mine again, introducing my tongue to his mouth. He meets mine as his hands grab my hips. As our tongues mingle I reach between us and timidly grab his cock, worried he will reject me again. Not that I'm bitter about last night, I understand. It's just going to hurt the second time.

He gasps into the kiss, his fingers holding me a bit harder, but he doesn’t stop me. I grip him a little tighter and pump. Feeling the bumps and grooves of his cock, squeezing a bit at the tip. I feel his pre coat my palm, smearing it over his head then the top of his shaft. He bucks into my grip while forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches to the hem of my pants, reaching in and fingering my clit.

We touch each other, grinding into the other's hand as our tongues intertwine. Our gasps and groans feed each other's wants and desires. I feel on the cusp, my finish nearing because of his fingers. Yet I don’t want him to do it just yet, I want to cum on his cock.

I lean back from the kiss, stopping my hands. His fingers curiously stop, he watches me for my next move. I remove his hand from my pants, nearly whimpering at the loss. I sit up and shimmy out of my pants. He catches on and helps me remove the clothing before tossing them to the side. I rest back on his lap, my cunt sitting at the bottom of his dick. He looks at me with wonder and eagerness.

Curious, I grind my pussy over him, spreading my slick over his shaft. His head drops back as he groans. I watch him with a smile as I repeat. Grinding over him, feeling his warmth partially part my folds. His back arcs as he pushes his chest out.

"Please," he whimpers," let me be inside." I look at his hooded eyes, them begging me along with his words. I nod before sitting up and hovering over him. I look between us, grabbing his cock. I stroke him once or twice then positioning his tip to my entrance. I let just his tip slip in, my insides practically burning with the need. Still, before I can give in to my greed I check to make sure he is ok. I refuse to use him, he means too much for me to do to him what I did to my exes. He isn't just a body to me.

Our eyes meet, his hooded gaze is locked onto mine. He looks like he is in divine torture, biting his lips just waiting with bated breath. He passes a quick glance to where we are about to meet then looks back up at me. He nods once, telling me what I needed to know. Without preamble I drop down on him, taking his cock quickly.

We both cry out as we meet, sitting flush on his lap. I take a second to enjoy the stuffed feeling, resting my palms on his stomach. I watch as his head drops to his shoulder, his eyes clenching as he bares his teeth. I pet over his stomach, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Tight," he whimpers as he looks at me. I huff with a big smile. He grins at me as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

We sit there for a second as he catches his breath, I wait for his cue. It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands and cup my hips. He grabs me and grinds me into him. We both suck in a breath, then he does it again. I get the idea and circle him, listening to his sharp breaths and tiny whimpers. I introduce a few short thrusts, using my thighs to lift myself. I watch as his eyes flutter close, his lips parting in a sigh. I ride him, using my hands to balance myself as I lift higher.

I set a fair pace, bouncing on him while gyrating my hips. I stroke over his stomach to his chest, feeling his racing heart. Watching his face contort in pleasure, each fall causing his mouth to part just a little more. I soon lean forward and kiss his cheek. Giving soft kisses under his eye then near his nose. He startles me when he wraps his arms around me. He sits up and begins to give shallow thrust upwards.

My breathing starts to get harder, panting near his ear as our bodies meet. I grind myself into his stomach, my clit stroking over his fur. I groan at the image of his fur flattening from my slick. I start to whimper against him as I feel my pleasure begin to peak. I rest my cheek against him, petting up his chest to his neck. I card my fingers through his hair, just barely touching his antlers. I squeeze my eyes shut as his cries increase my own. His noises spurring me on more.

"God, you feel too good," he pants. I can’t speak now, I just nod. I focus on the feel of his cock sliding in and out of me. Stroking my walls and reaching deep inside. I cry out louder on his next thrust, tugging his hair as I follow my peak.

I don’t have time to warn him before I'm clenching around him. I stop my falls as my legs give out. He chokes on a gasp, grunting into my neck. I feel some drool drip onto my shoulder as he bucks into my convulsing cunt. I slide my fingers up and grasp at his antlers, clenching them in a white grip. I cry with each thrust, falling apart over him. I barely notice when he stills suddenly, feeling something warm and hot inside myself. He lets out a long groan, bucking once or twice more.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, as do I. he holds me close, adjusting to relax his head to my chest. I still grip his horn tightly but I pet his back as I try to even out my breathing.

"Thank you," he still huffs.

"Don’t thank me for that," I laugh," I had fun too." he kisses my sternum as he too chuckles.

"Not that, but thank you for that too," he sits up, not before nuzzling one more time to my boob. He rests his head against the backboard and looks up at me with a fulfilled smile. "Thank you for giving me time," he clarifies. His hands slide down to my waist and keep me close. I stare down at him feeling happy. There is no other way to say it, I'm just happy.

"of course," I pet some hair out of his face," I wanted our first time to be comfortable."

"Most people wouldn’t have stopped," he nuzzles against my hand. Pressing a kiss to my palm.

"Then most people are awful," I joke," I couldn’t use you like that."

"And that why you are so wonderful. Even when it looked like my body wanted it you knew me well enough to see I wasn’t ready and for that I thank you," he leans up and kisses me. It's slow and wet, if not a little lazy. It's nice.

"I love you, Jensen," I find myself mumbling to his lips. He sits back abruptly with eyes wide. I watch him cautiously, feeling the heavyweight of panic in my stomach. Before I could say anything he buries his face to my neck, grinning widely against my skin.

"Aw," he coos," you don’t understand how terrific it is to hear you say that." the panic evaporates quickly and is replaced with a gushy feeling. I rub my cheek to his head, my forehead hitting his antlers. I can't stop smiling or blushing as he rubs his nose and continues to coo. "You beautiful woman, I love you so much," he kisses my cheek," Love you when you joined me in my first campaign. Love you when you held my hand at the movies, relaxing me when I was a nervous wreck. And I love you most when you didn’t force me last night, I will love you forever because you are just too wonderful." I hide my face to his shoulder as he peppers my face with kisses.

"stop," I laugh," my face is going to catch on fire at this rate."

"How can I stop? The cute girl from the comic book store loves me! I never thought id even get the guts to talk to you let alone have sex with you," he rubs his nose near my eye. His grin is wide and his heart still beats wild. I try to fight my smile but it comes out anyway. My teeth showing as my lips curl from ear to ear.

"I thought you were cute when I first saw you too, I wanted you then and now," I kiss his cheek. He shutters and slumps on me.

"You are going to make my heart burst," he mumbles near my ear," first you are kind to me last night, then you are watching Critical Role for me. Next you get me to trust you so much that we make love. And you tell me that you like my stupid awkwardness! God, you are too much." I nearly get teary-eyed at his words, making me feel like a saint when all I did was care about him. I definitely love this timid satyr.

"Do you work today," I wrap my arms around his shoulder. He slides his hands around my waist and hugs me close.

"No. Do you?"

"No," I kiss his neck," would you like to spend the day in bed?"

"I'd love nothing more," he quickly flips us over. I laugh as he settles above me with a big smile. He looks down between us and kicks off his bottoms. Quickly he catches my eye again and cocks a brow in question. I can't help but laugh before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

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PSA: you can withdraw consent at anytime. This is for both genders. just because a girl is wet, doesnt mean she is ready or willing. Just because a boy is hard, doesnt mean he is ready or willing. communication is important and No means No.

On that note, I really wanted to write a story where the guy wasnt ready. its always the girl not ready to take the leap but it happens to guys too. they arent always the cumbrains we mistake them for. sometimes they need time to trust and open up to a person.

Archive | Main Blog | Critical Role YT Page

#Satyr #satyr x human #monster boyfriend #monster lover #exophilia #Enigma-IM #satyr boyfriend #timid boyfriend #comic books #critical role #Jensen! satyr

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sparrowwritings · 3 years

Text

Final Fantasy 14 Writing Challenge Day Eleven: Heart of Gold

Day Ten -- Masterpost -- Day Twelve

As devoted to her work as she was, Moenbryda was well acquainted with noticing when others were paying attention to her. Then again, she thought as she gave a sidelong glance through the curtain of her hair at the two who were trying and failing to not be seen, at least they had innocent intentions.

Roger and Lara, the two Warriors of Light, were shoving each other and bickering in whispered tones. Their “hiding place” was just behind one of the bush planters that the Rising Stones had placed around it as more natural dividers. For as young as they were, the two would have to crouch to keep their heads from being spotted. They were too focused on their heated (if quiet) conversation to notice that it wasn’t concealing them at all anymore. From the way they were pointing, clearly it had something to do with her.

She might as well have some fun with them.

Gently easing herself out of her chair, Moenbryda padded over to the “hiding place” of the Warriors of Light. Neither of them sensed her as she got close enough to hear what they were talking about. “--don’t see what the big deal is, you should ask her!” Roger hissed.

“It’s your question, you need to ask.” Lara whispered back just as fiercely.

“Yeah but you ask this stuff way better than I do! And! I’m the one that keeps getting scared by him anyway so I shouldn’t have to ask!”

“All the more reason for you to do it, Roger! You’ve got to show you’re braver than that! Sh-she’ll just think it’s stupid if I ask.”

He stared at her for a few seconds before he responded. “...so you’re whole reason why you won’t talk to her is because you think she’ll think you’re stupid. And that’s why you’ve been getting all blushy around--”

“I don’t! Get that blushy around her!!” Lara whisper-exclaimed, whilst her cheeks grew a darker and darker pink by the second. She seemed to be in the process of hiding her face behind her fingers while she rambled. “Moenbryda’s just! Really amazing and strong and smart and gosh all I did right was fight a few nasty things.”

It was a choice between giving away her position by laughing or giving away her position by commenting on the not-very-secret conversation happening right in front of her. Moenbryda chose the latter, if only to spare the girl’s feelings. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” Both Warriors of Light let out a very squeaky yelp before simultaneously running their backs into the planter they had been hiding behind. This had been the right call; Lara’s face had only become pinker instead of pale with shame. Moenbryda gave the two of them a wink. “Don’t knock what you’ve done, though. Primal slaying is far more impressive than what I’ve been up to.”

“N--you, uh,” Lara mumbled, her voice getting quieter with every attempt at a word. “R-roger wants to know why…”

Either in response to getting caught or as a reaction to save his best friend further embarrassment, Roger blurted, “Why is Urianger so weird?” Moenbryda blinked. He continued on when it was clear she had to think on an answer. “He talks in riddles and is always so serious and he always scares me cuz I forget he’s in the room half the time so like why is he like that?” His large green eyes stared up at her own silver ones. “The other Scions say you’re the closest to him, so...?”

What a question. “If I’m going to answer this, we’re going to be sitting at a table instead of crouching behind a planter. With some tea, preferably.” Moenbryda reached down and picked up both Warriors of Light by the arm until they were able to stand on their own. Roger had the more defined musculature, but otherwise the two young midlanders were pretty lightweight by her own standards. Lara was stuck in admiration again until the seawolf had sauntered past her quick enough that the girl had to scramble to catch up.

Not much longer after, the three of them sat at the round table that Moenbryda had taken over for her research. Books and papers were gathered up and set aside, far away from the cups of steaming hot tea that she’d poured. After getting settled in, she looked from boy to girl and back before raising a gray eyebrow. “So. You want to know why Urianger is as eccentric as he is.”

“W-well…” Roger couldn’t meet her gaze, instead scratching at the side of his face. “I just...don’t know much about him. All the other Scions trust him so I know he’s a good guy, but…” He trailed off.

“He’s like a really tall brown wall.” Lara finished for him. When the silver gaze came to rest on her own dark blue eyes, she fumbled for words again. “I-I mean, kind of like R-roger said he’s just...just really hard to guess at what he’s thinking. Even without the…”

“Pray tell, whatever dost thou meaneth, young Lara?” She fluttered her eyelids, putting a hand to her chest even while imitating Urianger’s usual tone. “Surely thou canst thinketh that this manner of speech be...obtuse?” That got a genuine giggle out of the girl. Nothing like making fun to offset nerves. “Surely one such as thee can fully grasp the intricacies of language far better than that of thine peers! Oh the youth of today hath fallen in scholarly pursuits! For shame!” The extra drama Moenbryda added got both of the teens to laugh. A success if she should say so herself.

“In all seriousness, though, Urianger has always been more in favor of keeping to himself than spending time with others. I’d say it was miraculous that he’s stayed this long in the company of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, except that our Master Louisoix helped bring them together. And he’s grown fond of them since.” She blew at the hair that partially covered her face. “Ever loyal to those he deems worthy of loyalty is our dear Urianger.”

Lara and Roger looked to each other. There was something of a silent conversation between them before he seemed to lose and so spoke next. “Is that also why he sneaks up on people so easy? Because he keeps to himself a lot?”

She couldn’t stop the grin from growing on her face even if she wanted to. “He’s perfectly capable of making noise while he walks. I suspect he stays quiet around you purely for the amusement that comes when you discover him, though you’ll never be able to suss out that confession from him.”

“What!” Roger stood in his seat, getting dangerously close to spilling what was left of his tea.

“Did you not think him capable of humor?”

“Yes! I mean no! I mean--” The boy sat back down hard and dug his hands into his red hair as he stared at the table. “Oh my gods he’s been laughing at me this whole time.”

“Now now, he’d never laugh.” Moenbryda pointed out. “Smile, maybe, but definitely not when you could see him.”

“He can smile too?!”

“Wonder of wonders, I know.”

“Loyalty and humor…” Lara mused. “Well that’s two things we learned about him that we didn’t know before.” She carefully looked at the older woman out of the corner of her eye. “...Is there anything else you want to add?”

The possibilities of further embarrassing her childhood friend were laid out in front of her like a feast. Anecdotes from their shared past. Hilarious mistakes on his part while they were both under the tutelage of Louisoix. Odd quirks from childhood that he most certainly kept even after having not seen her in so long. Any of that could become ammo for the Warriors of Light to use in order to fluster and annoy him like he deserved after being particularly difficult to understand.

With a monumental amount of restraint, Moenbryda settled on a far more mature tact. Even Urianger would be proud, were he privy to her current thoughts.

“Loyalty and humor is fine and all, but one must take care if that’s all one knows about a person.” She took a sip of her still-warm tea. “A person of ill intent can still be loyal to their unrighteous cause. Humor can just as easily be derived from cruelty, not just harmless pranks.” Roger looked like he begged to differ, but she continued onward. “It’s the core of a person that one should look out for most of all. What they choose to do, again and again, when there is no reward to speak of or even if they are aware that the result will lead to negative consequences for themself.”

Looking between the two teens again, she smiled gently. “A concept you two are already familiar with, I’m sure.”

This time, the quiet was contemplative.

Lara spoke first. “But...we haven’t seen him doing a lot that involves his core. He’s always so...closed off. Or like he’s hiding, I guess.”

“Well then it’s good you came to speak to me about that.” Moenbryda winked. This time, the girl merely jumped instead of froze. “If I had to say any one phrase fit Urianger well, it would be that he ‘has a heart of gold.’”

“Really?” Roger piped up.

“Absolutely.” She nodded. “He will always put the wellbeing of others long before he thinks of himself. To his detriment in some cases, but admirable nonetheless.” Pointing a thick finger at the boy, she added, “Even his scare tactics, such as they are, are minor in nature. Enough to make you jump, but not enough for you to go for your weapon, right?”

It took him a moment to think back that far. When he finished, he sounded awestruck. “...yeah. That’s right.”

“See? You already had some of the evidence in front of you. All you both needed was a fresh perspective.”

Roger stared openly at Moenbryda before turning his gaze back to Lara. “No wonder you like her so much.”

The brief moment of respite for the girl’s poor face died as the pink came back in full force, even darkening into red in places. “Roger!” She shouted at him.

Moenbryda gave a happy sigh to herself and leaned back a little to drink her tea while the teens argued again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the far more stealth experienced members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn snickering at the scene.

She might not have known the Warriors of Light for long, but it was good to see that such responsibilities hadn’t weighed them down enough that they forgot how to be their own age. Now if only someone would stop pretending that he was twenty years older than he actually was around her every so often.

#Final Fantasy 14 #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #fanfiction #writing challenge #heart of gold #dual WoL AU #moenbryda #roger briden #lara marner #more adults making sure the kids are alright #it's too bad it's not gonna last but hey at least she tried #lara has the kind of crush where she doesn't know if she like likes bryda or if she just wants to *be* bryda #to be fair big and strong but really kind is very much lara's jam #but she *is* still a teen so it's all mixed up #it's just a shame that bryda ends up dying #moenbryda deserved more screentime dammit #eleven down twenty to go

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