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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

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Dancing In The Dark

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,641 😌

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: BOP BOP BOP 💃 Here's a Lisa fic for you guys!!! This isn't the request I got for her, but recent events inspired me to write this one and I really hope you enjoy it. More content will be coming in the near future :) Thank you all for the continued support, and as always... ♡ Happy Reading ♡

Follow-Up Part: Worth It

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Tense isn't quite good enough of a word to describe how you've spent the past week and a half. For some reason unbeknownst to you, Lisa's been hostile and standoffish whenever you've tried to communicate, always giving you short answers and snide remarks instead of being mature and confronting you about whatever issue she has. So, of course, it's only natural for the bitterness to have rubbed off on you as well.

What's worse is that you're not even sure why you're fighting. Anytime you rack your brain for a reason to explain the anger, you come up with nothing.

"Are we still on for practice later?" You ask, picking up a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray that sets on the counter.

"I'll be there." She says simply, not even bothering to look up from the bowl of cereal she decided to grab. You clench your jaw and give a curt nod, determined to give her the same energy she's giving you.

Jisoo notices the air of aversion that's quickly taking over the room, so she speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I can't wait to meet more Blinks at our fansign later this week. Aren't you guys excited?" The mere thought of meeting your supporters makes the unnie unbelievably happy, and all the hard work seems worthwhile.

Despite herself, Lisa lightly grins and mutters a phrase of agreement around her mouthful of food.

"At least they know how to make conversation." You respond pettily, glancing across the counter at Lisa as you take a bite of your bacon.

"I know how, Y/N. I just lack the desire to do so," she shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the cold words that slip past her plump lips.

You click your tongue, now used to her behavior. Had this been one of her first times saying something like that, you probably would've been sadder than you currently are.

"Awww," you coo. "You come up with that one on the spot? You'll have to do better than that if you wanna hurt me." You lean against the marble countertop to whisper that last part, throwing a goodbye to Jisoo as you set off to your room to get ready for the day.

Later That Day -- 7:49 PM

The bright red numbers displayed above the elevator doors tick on, changing with each floor you put behind you. A heavy sigh bounces off the walls and you rub the back of your neck for comfort.

Why does Lisa have to be such a good dancer? The only reason you arranged this practice with her in the first place is to ensure that you know all the proper choreo for your upcoming Inkigayo performance. Your fans matter more to you than any disagreement you could be in, and you're determined to put on the best show possible for them. Lisa just so happens to be a critical factor in that process, unfortunately.

"Level 6," an automated voice announces before the sleek doors open, revealing a nearly uninhabited floor of practice rooms. They branch off on both sides of the long hallway that stretches out before you, and you get started on your journey down it. The only occupied studio sets at the end, emitting a soft glow through its translucent door as one of your song's choruses thumps through the speakers.

You don't bother to knock before walking in, far past keeping up with the niceties any longer. Lisa's eyes dart from the wall of mirrors that borders the front of the room to glance at you, momentarily stilling her movements.

"Don't let me stop you," you say, moving your hand in a "shoo-ing" motion at her until she picks back up with the song. You turn around to shut the door and take off your jacket, missing the way her eyes slowly rake over your body.

You join her in the middle of the room, making sure to stay far enough away so that neither of you accidently hit or bump into each other as you run through the songs. The next hour or so is spent doing just that, repeating the ones you have issues with until you're performing the moves expertly. Every approving nod and shout from Lisa works to boost your confidence, and you actually find it a bit easier to enjoy yourself in her presence again. The two of you trade jokes, and sometimes it seems as if the hostility is fading away.

"You did well with all the other songs, so let's practice the one where we have the male backup dancers. I'll fill in for them."

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Lisa dancing so sensually with you, but you quickly dismiss it and get into position.

"From the top?" You ask over your shoulder, feeling her eyes on you as she approaches.

"Of course." She says it like it's common sense.

The song starts up, and she sets her phone down on a nearby chair that she dragged closer earlier. She watches as you perform your solo moves, offering tweaks and scattered praises all the while. About midway through, the song shifts and she rolls her sleeves up in preparation.

You take a deep breath as she settles behind you, reaching an arm around your front to rest her fingertips on your jaw. When the next hit of the sensual bass vibrates across the practice room, she coaxes your head to the side, moving hers forward just enough to brush her lips against your neck.

You're aware of every twitch of her muscles, every breath she takes -- her body is flush up against yours, radiating that heat that you've missed so much. Her heart beats quickly like yours, and you can feel the way it pounds against your back.

Perhaps this is the moment you should step away; some distance is sure to clear the fog that settles over your brain, clouding your judgment more than ever. But she's holding you like she used to, and you can't muster up the energy to put an end to something that feels so good.

"Arms up," she coaches, lifting your hands above your head before trailing her fingers back down your arms, lower and lower until they skim over the warm skin of your abdomen. In one fell swoop, she tangles her thumb into one of the belt loops of your jeans and uses her other hand to assist you with the next move: a spin. Her hold is steady, and your hair cascades over your shoulders as you lean your head back, twirling effortlessly. Given that your eyes are closed, you fail to notice the way she traps her bottom lip in between her teeth, doing all she can to keep dancing and not kiss you. You feel her palm press to the small of your back as her arms tighten around your waist, allowing you to dip towards the ground without falling.

"Good, just like that." The praise is like music to your ears as she raises you back up, and she audibly swallows when she sees how mussed your clothes have become from dancing.

Turning your attention back to the front, you meet her gaze in the mirror; it's calculated and intimidating, but she looks aroused. You watch as her eyes scan over your body, lingering in the places that she's spent hours worshiping before. A smug smile tugs at your lips; despite being mad, her attraction to you is undeniable. With that in mind, you decide to tease her; in time with the music, you push your hips back.

"I think I still need help with this next part." You purr, lulling your head back to rest against her shoulder as you slowly drag your hands over your body. Lisa lets out a low moan when you arch your back, grinding your ass further into her while you innocently toy with the buttons of your shirt. Having her in such a state is great enough, but knowing that you're the reason she's so turned on is something else entirely.

"Y/N…" she warns, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress anymore noises that run the risk of selling her out.

"Lisa…" you tease back, playfully matching her tone as you watch her face scrunch up in response to the way you wind your body along to the music.

She turns you around, her grip on your hips tightening as she works hard to restrain herself. Your chest rises and falls with slightly hurried breaths, partially from the dancing you've been doing and partially from the effect she has on you. Keeping her hands from roaming is proving harder than she imagined it'd be, and her mind goes into overdrive to find a way to make sure things don't slip too far out of her control.

Her plans are stalled when you grab the material of her shirt in your fists, lightly yanking her forward by the collar of it until her lips ghost dangerously close to yours. You fake her out, only allowing them to brush against each other for a moment before you tilt your head and drop your mouth down to her neck.

As you begin to leave a light hickey on her pulse point, she somehow manages to come to her senses and knows what she has to do. It was a hard fought battle, though, and part of her still wants to relent and let you have your way with her.

She puts her hands on your shoulders and shoves you backwards, being careful not to push too hard. The look in her eye is predatory, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't thrill you.

With every advancing step she takes, slow and deliciously torturous in its nature, you take one backwards, only stopping when the cold surface of the mirror presses against your skin.

"You wanna know why I've been short with you?" Her darkening eyes scan down to your lips before coming back up to look into yours as she waits for your answer.

Why would she bring that up right now? The question sours your mood, effectively ruining the moment -- that's exactly what Lisa wanted (she's still bothered by whatever's been plaguing her lately, and as much as she wants you, she can't get over it yet).

"Yeah, because it's really unfair. I haven't done anything wrong." The anger and hurt you've been feeling for the past week returns now, bubbling up in your chest when the memories of some of her more harsh words replay in your mind. Your voice conveys the growing irritation you feel, but Lisa’s expression remains unreadable. The effects of your desire are beginning to border on frustration now, dancing on the line as they threaten to cross over it.

"I didn't particularly appreciate finding you at the studio with Jung-hoon when you were supposed to be with us."

A singular exhale leaves you, short and unbelieving as you roll your eyes.

"That's what this is about?" You scoff. "You know I was held back to record my part for the newest track; and besides, I wasn't even that late to dinner. The girls weren't mad, so why are you?" Your arms come up to cross over your chest defensively, and you narrow your eyes at her.

"You should know." She says it like it's the most obvious thing known to man.

"Well clearly I don't, Lisa, so why don't you enlighten me?"

"You're so oblivious," she bites back, rolling her eyes like you just had, "He's practically in love with you."

"What?"

"You heard me. He doesn't even try to hide it. Why else do you think he made sure to schedule you for the last slot of the day? He wanted to get you alone." Her tone is laced with bitterness, and a grimace crosses her face. Even the thought of him puts her off.

"So what if he did? I'd rather be talking to him than getting this shitty treatment from you."

"Is that so?" She challenges, pursing her lips with a tut as she tilts her head up.

"It sure is. You'd never know it, considering you seem to hate him so much, but he's actually pretty nice. He even bought me a tea when I complained about my throat being sore that night."

"He sounds like a winner," she says sarcastically, voice void of sincerity as it drips with contempt instead, "Why don't you go spend some time with him, then, if I'm just so horrible to be around?"

You shake your head as a humorless laugh slips past your lips. She's unbelievable. Before you can think of a good response, she continues her train of thought. "Maybe he'll bribe his way into your pants like he's been trying to for the past month. Tell me, Y/N, would he have to buy you dinner first? Or would another tea suffice?"

The second those words leave Lisa's lips, her chest tightens; she draws a breath in, keeping it held tightly in her lungs as guilt begins to course through her. She feels the aftershocks of her statement in the painful silence of the room, and she finds it nearly impossible to look you in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time.

Her words slowly sink in, rendering you momentarily speechless as you simply blink a few times. Your eyebrows sit higher up now, aiding your slack jaw in conveying the surprise you feel. You have to fight the urge to shove her; had you reverted back to being the less mature version of yourself from your teenage years, you would've done so in a heartbeat. But you're older now, and you realize your words and actions have consequences; clearly she hasn't learned that quite yet.

"Lisa, I'm gonna make this as simple as I can for you: if you ever say something like that to me again, we're going to have some real problems… You're such an asshole."

"I shouldn't have--"

"No, you shouldn't have. But you did. And I don't know what the hell has gotten into you lately, but it needs to stop."

"I'm sorry."

Her apology feels meaningless right now, and it falls on deaf ears. You don't allow yourself to believe she means it -- maybe she does, maybe she doesn't; regardless, she might try to sweet talk her way into forgiveness if you stay here right now, and you can't let that happen. "I don't think it's smart for me to be here -- not after that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me when you get back to the dorm later, either." The conversation sounds more formal than you're used to with Lisa, but it's fitting given everything that's happened. Her eyes remain trained on the floor as she nods sheepishly; she's ashamed of herself.

When you stride over to retrieve your coat from its resting spot, the sound of your shoes hitting the hardwood echo around the rehearsal room, serving as the only noise to cut through the tense silence. It's like a hot knife through butter, and Lisa feels her heart break a little more with each passing second. Your footfalls are a bit heavier than normal now, and you pop your knuckles out of habit to soothe yourself.

She stops herself from reaching out to you as you brush past her on your way to the door. Had things gone her way, none of this would've happened at all: she even planned to apologize and attempt to make things official with you tonight -- but life always seems to deny us of what we want most.

The handle's smooth surface rests in your palm as you linger in the doorway, keeping your back turned to her. You're not sure what you're even waiting for in the first place. When Lisa remains silent, unable to think of a fitting way to rectify the situation, you nod to yourself and slip out of the room.

The dancer releases a breath now that she's alone, and she runs her hands over her face. Her dislike for Jung-hoon was never meant to override her love for you, and it sure as hell wasn't meant to get in between the two of you. In some ways, Lisa's still that young girl she used to be when you first met as trainees: she still gets jealous and annoyed when she doesn't get what she wants, and although the years have made her far more mature than what she once was, old habits truly do die hard. She blames herself for hurting you, but she doesn't blame herself for disliking him. On one hand, you're completely innocent in the situation and undeserving of what she put you through -- she should have trusted you; but on the other, she can't help but be angry at him for trying to steal you away. You're hers, if only in her dreams, and he has no right to flirt with you like that.

So, with hundreds of thoughts swirling around in her mind, Lisa decides to do what she does best; for the next couple hours, she remains at the studio, releasing the pent up tension and frustration she's been holding in for so long.

~~~~

Back At The Blackpink Dorm

"Can today get any worse?" You groan loudly, tugging at your hair out of frustration. The worn pages of your song book flutter slightly as you push it off of your lap, sending it onto the bed with a soft thump. A couple minutes later you hear movement in the hallway, and you decide to investigate. Carefully, you feel your way through the dark and eventually reach your bedroom door, which you subsequently open.

"Help me look for some candles, please." Jisoo requests from the hallway, just a little ways away from you. A small flashlight is clutched in her hand, and its surprisingly bright beam does well in illuminating the shelves of the closet as she searches through it. You retrieve a spare light from her before making your way down the hall to search the bathroom.

"We probably won't have power until tomorrow night; maybe even later. The storm caused a blackout and parts of the grid are down right now. At least that's what management told me." She informs, raising her voice slightly so you can hear her well. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, considering a blanket of silence has fallen over the dorm; with no power, no appliances offer any background noise to drown out the jarring quietness.

Steady sheets of rain pound against the window of the bathroom, momentarily stealing your attention away from the task at hand. As inconvenient as storms of this caliber can be, it's hard not to be in awe of the power of mother nature; occasionally, bolts of lightning streak across the sky in various places, offering a peek at the angry clouds that loom overhead. It's almost like peering into another world: the vivid colors of the lightning contrast with the darkness of the sky, making it appear as a raging sea as the clouds trek across it in waves.

"I'm already cold." The distant sound of Jennie's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you release a sigh as you draw open more cabinets. She and Rosé are now seemingly out in the hallway, talking with Jisoo about the storm and how you're all going to deal with it. For a moment you wonder why Lisa hasn't joined them; perhaps she's asleep and didn't even notice the power go out.

Unbeknownst to you, the maknae hasn't done much of anything besides overthinking. Ever since she came home earlier, she's abided by your wishes: she kept quiet during dinner, and retreated to her room without so much as a word to you. It hasn't been easy by any means, and her heart has been aching to apologize to you -- she wants to make things right, but upsetting you further isn't a risk she's willing to take. So now, she lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listens to your other members talk out in the hall.

"I found these," you approach them, holding up a few medium sized candles that Rosé bought for when you guys need a spa day.

"Ah, not the good ones!" She whines, disappointed that the luxury items have to be wasted for such a lame purpose.

"We could always just sit in the dark," you remind her with a chuckle, quirking a small smile at how she's acting. She seems to forget that you guys are rich and completely capable of getting plenty more of them.

"No, I'll order more," she sighs, adding, "...just don't use all of them."

"Aye aye, captain," you salute, grinning wider when she lets out a soft laugh.

"Let's go set the stuff up in the living room," Jisoo says, slipping in between the two of you on her way. When you raise an eyebrow at the other girls, Jennie speaks up, "We might as well just hang out there. We can stay warmer that way and not die of boredom."

You cock your head to the side and nod after considering the offer, quickly deciding that you have nothing better to do anyway. "What about Lisa?" You ask, the waver in your voice going unnoticed by either of them. From inside her room, Lisa holds her breath, tensing up as she waits to hear their answer.

"I think she's sleeping, so we don't have to wake her up right now. She'll realize it's out eventually."

You seem to accept her answer, and Lisa relaxes into the cushions of her bed as she hears three sets of footsteps getting further and further away. There's no way she can face you yet -- she's still working on a good enough apology. Besides, pretending that everything's okay was hard enough at dinner -- the girls were growing suspicious, so it's only a matter of time before they ask about it. None of you like to see each other sad, but there really seems to be a soft spot in all of their hearts for you: they always try to keep you happy and protected in order to repay you for taking such good care of them. You may not be the oldest unnie, but you're dedicated to your members, and their loyalty isn't something to be taken lightly. That undisputed fact works to make Lisa even more nervous; she knows she's been bad to you, and the girls aren't afraid to give her a piece of their minds. Their combined disappointment is only rivaled by her own, and she knows she'll have to work hard to get things back to where they used to be with you.

~~~~~

As you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, you take in the sight of your reflection staring back at you. Bags rest underneath your eyes from what little sleep you've gotten so far, not quite dark enough to make you cringe but visible enough to show that things aren't going your way. You and the girls spent what was left of the evening chatting and playing board games to keep yourselves entertained, but eventually sleep became unavoidable and you retired to the large pillow fort that the 4 of you had constructed earlier. Without any power going to the dorm's heater, you've been forced to rely on extra blankets and each other's body heat to stay warm.

A glance at your watch lets you know that it's a little after 3AM now, and you can only hope to fall back asleep soon. Your mind is exhausted from all the thinking you've been doing -- the toll it's taking on you coming through as a physical pain, pulsing steadily to remind you of everything that's happened -- but somehow sleep doesn't seem to be attainable. Despite being so drained, your body and mind would rather stay at odds than just compromise and let you rest. It's like something is telling you to stay awake -- like some quiet voice with ulterior motives is calling on you to look beyond yourself and fight sleep. Whatever the reason may be, you're annoyed with it.

Frigid water meets your face, stealing the warmth away from your cheeks as it slides its way downward. You lean against the sink, sighing softly as your chilly fingers press into your temples and rub small circles into the skin there. The storm continues to rage on outside, drawing parallels to the war being waged in your heart. You're torn. Part of you is so overcome with the love you hold for Lisa that you just want to forget she even said anything at all -- you almost care more about having things go back to the way they once were than the fact that she's been breaking your heart more and more everyday. But another part of you is tired of her shit -- she shouldn't be able to get away with saying that to you, and you're strong enough to stay away from her until she steps up and makes things right. It's hard, no doubt, to keep your distance when she's the one person you want to be with most in this world, but you respect yourself enough to set a standard for what type of treatment you're willing to accept.

As if on cue, a loud burst of thunder roars out, quite literally shaking the house with how strong it is. You jump, feeling your blood run cold at the unexpected scare. A yelp from the living room can be heard, and you have to bite your lip to contain the snicker that threatens to escape; you love Jennie to death and hate to see her frightened, but sometimes it's funny. Comfort comes to the brunette in the form of soothing words groggily whispered by the other girls as they hold her close.

For what seems to be the millionth time tonight, Lisa crosses your mind; should you check on her? Despite what Jennie had suggested earlier, the maknae failed to leave her room at all. You wonder if she's cold; surely she is, considering she didn't have many blankets in her room to bury herself under. Worrying is apparently your strong suit, because the thought of her staying curled up in bed to grant your wishes, alone and shivering, saddens you beyond belief and convinces you to see how she's doing.

After drying your face and hands, you sneak back to the living room and grab the fluffiest blanket you can find. Your feet dodge the creaky spots in the floorboards, having already memorized them after years of tiptoeing to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning for snacks. Before long, you stand in front of her door and attempt to prepare yourself.

Lisa's eyes fly closed as she hears the door to her room being opened. The weathered metal hinges groan slightly with effort; over the years, it's been thrown open in times of excitement and subjected to it's fair share of slamming during arguments.

She does her best to play the part, but her act almost falters when she feels your soft hand brush her hair out of her face. The pad of your thumb strokes her cheek slowly, and she can practically feel all the emotion your gaze holds. Her eyes remain closed as you reach out to feel her arms, making sure they aren't frozen solid from being exposed to the chilly air. The fact that you still care enough to make sure she's comfortable makes her feel even more guilty, and her eyelashes have to work twice as hard to keep her tears from escaping. They dampen as the salty liquid builds up, serving as a dam that could break at any moment, but thankfully you don't notice. You splay the cover over her and tuck it slightly, leaving her plenty of room for movement -- you remember her telling you in passing that she doesn't like being tucked in completely because it makes her feel restricted.

Her breath hitches as your hands fiddle with the collar of her shirt, fixing the ruffled material so that it covers her better. The bed dips as you sit down next to her, letting your eyes trail over her body.

"How can you sleep right now?" You whisper out, thinking she's lightyears away in dreamland. A stray tear rolls down your cheek, but you're quick to wipe it away.

"You're so stupid Lisa," you breathe out, releasing your lip from between your teeth. "I can't believe you think I'd want to be with Jung-hoon and not you."

"But hey," you say with a bitter laugh, the sound almost inaudible in its softness, "I guess I'm the oblivious one, right?"

After spending a few more moments torturing yourself, you slowly stand up and return the blankets to the state they had been in before you sat down. Unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. You have no idea where the two of you will stand with one another when she wakes up, and you want to have this memory before you're forced to be at odds again.

As you push your tired body up, prepared to turn around and leave, you're instead met with her deep brown eyes peering up at you.

You freeze, feeling your muscles tense up as the tears in her eyes become more visible. Her features look even more beautiful now, somehow, in the pale moonlight that streams into the room. It's lustrous, seeming to sparkle as it casts down on her perfectly, kissing every inch of exposed skin that it can. She looks like a dream, and for a second you wonder if you're just imagining this. Her skin appears even softer than usual in the gentle glow of the room, but she looks as striking as ever with her defined collarbone and sharp jawline standing out. You feel her hand brush against your wrist, and you're reminded of all the times she would draw you in close and kiss you until you were breathless.

"How much of that did you hear?" You swallow, a slight nervousness taking over now as you run a hand through your hair.

"Enough," she utters simply, indulging herself in a few more seconds of the intimate staring contest you were in before breaking eye contact to sit up in bed. She leans back against the headboard and pulls her feet in some to give you plenty of room to sit. Selfishly, she wishes you'd sit right next to her again; she can't say she's surprised when you put a little space between the two of you though, opting to sit further down on the mattress.

Neither of you say anything for a little while, too busy trying to locate the right words and how to phrase them. The situation is delicate, and neither of you want to mess it up; Lisa's more afraid to speak than you are, but she eventually finds her voice.

"I know sorry doesn't cut it, nor does it solve anything. But I really am sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out how it did, and I haven't been treating you right for awhile now."

"You can say that again," you quip, nodding singularly.

She sighs, a bit discouraged by your demeanor but still just as determined.

"Seeing you with him just scared me, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but that's exactly what I was. When I saw the way he was looking at you and sitting so close… it just hurt. A lot. I like you more than I want to admit, and you're completely capable of pulling anyone you want. Especially a 2 like Jung-hoon."

You almost smile at that last part: even when apologizing, she can't help but clown on him.

"That was a fucked up thing to say, back at the studio. It made me feel cheap, Lisa, and I never thought you would be someone who'd make me feel like that. I don't care if it was in the heat of the moment or not -- it was uncalled for." It feels good to finally voice your feelings to her, and you don't waste time by skirting around them or softening the blow.

"You're right, and I wish you could understand how much I regret it. I wanted to run after you so bad… you have no idea. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth." She hangs her head now, feeling the shame rise in her at the thought of her past actions.

"You can dislike Jung-hoon as much as you want, but you're right about one thing: you have no right to be jealous. I refuse to be your reason for hating someone, especially when your logic is as flawed as it is."

She can sense that you have more to say, and she's more than willing to listen; so, she waits for you to continue.

"First of all, you and I aren't dating, Lisa. And even knowing that, you still didn't trust me, evidently. I don't owe you anymore of an explanation than the other girls, but I'll give it since you seem to want it so bad: we really did just work on the song. He was nice to me and treated me well, but he never overstepped or made me uncomfortable. Regardless of whether he likes me or not, he was kind; the same can't be said for you." Your voice is taut with the pain you've been through because of her, and the brutal honesty behind your words hangs heavy in the air.

"I deserve that one. But can you please try to see it from my point of view? When you're in love with someone, it's easy to get jealous," your heart pounds harder at her use of that four letter word, but you don't let it show, "...especially when the other person isn't even yours to begin with. At least that's how it works for me. I feel like I have to work extra hard to keep your focus on me, because I'm afraid anyone can come by and take you away. You have no obligation to even be with me."

"I may not have an obligation to, Lisa, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. Do you know how excited I was to finally get home and see you and the girls that night? I was dying to pull you into the kitchen and sneak a kiss when I was grabbing my plate. But you'd never know that, because you cared more about your insecurities than believing me."

"Wow." Your confession surprises her, and the simple utterance is all she can manage at the moment.

"Yeah." You say, solidifying your words.

"I really am an idiot, aren't I?"

"To put it kindly, yes."

She pauses for a beat or two to really process your words. "Can we get past this?" She asks gently, playing with the frilly edge of the blanket you brought in earlier that's now worked its way down into her lap.

"I think so," you say honestly, releasing a steadying breath, "but you have to work for it."

"I will, everyday. I want us to be okay again."

"I do too, Lis. I really do." Her gaze softens at the nickname, and she can tell you're being truthful.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"I-" She starts, only to be cut off by the small giggle you let out.

"Shoot, Manoban."

"Does this mean I can ask you to be my girlfriend?" She notices the way your face falls as you begin to stutter out a response, so she quickly clarifies, "Eventually?"

"Eventually," you affirm, thankful that she understood that you're not quite ready yet. You crack a small smile as you say, "So long as you don't give me a reason to say no in the meantime."

The two of you share a much needed laugh, happy to finally begin clearing the air between you.

Not long after, Lisa says, "One more thing, Y/N."

You lift your head to look at her and respond, but her lips meet yours before you get the chance to say a word. The surprised noise you make is muffled, but it soon gives way to something crossed between a sigh and moan as her hand travels up your thigh. It rests there, the heat of her palm seeping through the material of your pants as she waits to see how you react, still pressing innocent kisses to your lips. She wants to continue, but you deserve to control the situation.

Wordlessly, you tilt her head to the side to deepen the kiss, languidly moving your tongue against hers. It's a dance you've spent hours practicing before, and your bodies fall back into the familiar rhythm they've been craving for the past week and a half. When you take her hand and lead it under your shirt, allowing her to touch wherever she pleases, she lets out a guttural noise of approval that has you pressing your thighs together in search of friction. Already, Y/N? You think to yourself; she's barely touched you and you're already so responsive.

Lisa smiles at the shuddered breath she feels you release, and she tugs at your bottom lip to tease you further.

"If you keep this up, that 'eventually' will come sooner rather than later," you say shakily, swallowing as you press your lips together. They taste like her, and you're convinced you're addicted.

She lets out a throaty chuckle at that, the action garnering a smile from you. Your cheeks are flushed, and she secretly loves the effect she has on you.

"You're beautiful," she declares, the smile on her lips coming through in the phrase. She strokes your cheek with the back of her hand, and you let out a little "pshh" sound at her sweet comment. Taking compliments has never been something you're very good at.

Determined to show you that she's genuine, she takes your hand and places it against her chest, right over her heart. It beats wildly, untamed and unpredictable as her emotions course through her. "It always gets like this when I'm around you. I can't control it; you just drive me crazy."

"You're really trying to kill me, huh? Soft Lisa is far hotter than petty Lisa, just so you know." You say, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands tighten around your waist as she pulls you into her lap, slowly grinning at your confession.

"Noted. Now come here, baby."

You close what little distance is left between you, not having to be told twice. Her lips move in time with yours as she flips you over, laying you on your back beside her. In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that she's tucked your legs under the blankets and brought the material up to cover the two of you.

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'm done being an ass."

"It's about time," you joke, rolling your eyes. "Better get to work if you want to lose your status as a dickhead by the end of this century."

"Hey! Century? That's a little long, don't you think?"

"Tread lightly, Lisa," you warn, half teasing and half threatening. She catches a hint of the menacing look you send her way, and quickly gets her act together.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, attempting to contain the smile that tugs at her lips by pressing them against yours again.

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julieloves074 · 3 years ago

Text

Out of the Darkness pt.3 (Darkling x reader story)

Lets just ignore that English is not my first language :)

“Would you rather wear my black colour instead?” his question sounding genuine but a trap all the same, he didn’t move, waiting for my answer, two could play this game.

“Have I made you speechless?” he asked. So simply.

“Well that would just be improper General,” I said taking the red kefta out of his hand with force, he latches onto it for a moment so that I can’t take it out of his hgrips, “I don’t know what I would do to thank you,” I added, with a gaze of admiration, still pulling away from the idea of battering my eyelashes, that would be too obvious, he would see right through me.

Though, his kefta did look warmer, maybe this was his autumn wear, either way, I would never wear his colours, or any colours if I could help it.

“They’re bullet proof, after transporting the sun summoner who knows when one may attack us again,” he commented, and waited until the red clothing was secured around my limbs and body before walking towards two of his soldiers, one was holding the rein of the horse behind them. A midnight black stallion, clearly pure breed.

I huffed as I brought the material forward in one rough pull, fixing the collar while I’m at it. He doesn’t looked back to me, until his body is secure on his horse.

“I will ride on horseback, and you shall be in my carriage, with two of my trusted guards,” he said turning back to me for one moment, his brave commanding voice didn’t quiver now that other first and second army eyes were us and our exchange, him mostly, but some eager eyes didn’t shy away from peeling at me, the new Grisha, that so happened to appear during the night, giving me the benefit of a doubt.

I turned back towards the carriage, looking both ways, past the stares, how else could I get away?

Only to get my arms in not so friendly hold of the guards, who somewhat forcefully push me into the carriage. The space is small, confined, the window quickly becomes a good friend of mine. With nowhere else to look the views outside are quite lovely. Forests and greenery, not much different to where I came from, but still something new.

As we dove deeper into the forest I turned to my new favourite, hated game called stop every mistake you made when you were taken into that tent. I focused on every single little detail that went wrong, I could have forced myself to say on the floor, I knew the mattress and duvet, and the fluffy blanket would lure me away in a deep world of sleep.

I did need it, but I wish I could have prevented it. Made up a plan or even just a lie.

Instead, here I am, sitting across from two soldiers in their black unfirmos, neither of them Grisha, meaning that his most trsuted Grisha were at the Little Palace with Alina, protecting and watching her, bearing in mind that the walls could protect her enough; she really seems like a bird trapped in a cage.

This is good, better than good, excellent, now I can just maybe tip the carriage, not burn it that would be a waste, but maybe just make it seem like an accident, best done during the night, slipping away unnoticed. Really uncontacted this time. I would leave the red kefta on the floor, make sure it gets in the flames, it would burn like the fire itself.

But then he’d suspect me: an inferni. I sighed but the guards weren’t really paying that much attention to me anyway. They sat their bodies square to me looking straight ahead, this is probably the only time they’ve ever been allowed to sit inside this carriage.

Instead I could slow their hearts, he wouldn’t blame it on me, he couldn’t, in his black glossy eyes I am only an inferni after all. Why would he need another inferni anyway, surely he had plenty at the palace? Unless he was really low on fire.

At the sow descend of the shadows, as the sun started to cower down I urged myself forward, my eyelids seemed awfully heavy, unlike their usually feathery float, I hoped the two men didn’t realise, I wanted to get this over with.

But they too shuffled forwards in their seats, hands on their knees. Still staring forwards, almost like gargoyles on old, gloomy caste roofs.

I’m not their prisoner, or his, or so he said. So why would they give such a care? My eyes widened, without turning to me, one of each hand goes to my wrists, entrapping me again in their will. I couldn’t slow their hearts.

“Let go of me! You have no right to me!” I screamed instead, though they did nothing more than hold onto my arms, urging me to stay in one space, to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull any tricks out of the bag.

How’d I create myself such a reputation so quickly?

In a sudden burst the carriage stopped, I couldn’t hear anything or anyone outside, as if the world had stopped, the guards faces turned alarmed, their eyes gazed around, their other arms ready to grip their weapons. Taking the initiative I shuffled backwards, pleading my hands to follow, they stayed in their grips.

Then there was a shuffle outside, footsteps, the guards didn’t even get a chance to shuffle back themselves, or grab their weapons before the door flung open, as if the wind attacked it, harshly beckoning it to open up.

Their hands rip away ferociously, so I rushed mine to wrap them around my knees in a protective position, not weak, but self-protective. Never weak. Edging away from them I painted the situation in exactly the right shades and colours.

“We’re making a stop for a few hours, then the girl rides with me,” he said sternly to the two men, giving them the look of what I would call a waring, they wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me, not when the General could make them pay for it greedily.

The two men looked to each other’s; fear blemished out of their pupils which turned smaller by every second of his stare.

I had my way, I was out of the carriage for the remainder of the journey.

He reached his gloved hand my way, I looked at his hand, then back into his eyes and then to his hand again. The other rested in the doorway of the transport, even in such a lousy position he stood taller and more proper than any man.

“Y/n?” he said, I took a breath, letting my eyes creep to the two guards again before finally accepting the General’s hand out of my seat.

The chilly air hit, like jumping into freezing water all at once. In front of me I saw what looked like an old barn, there was already movement inside, with the way the darkling’s face stayed stoic, calm I could tell that they were out people. His people.

As we were leaving the camp I wasn’t sure how many of us were travelling, it was mostly just soldiers, only two of us, the Grisha.

Landing both my feet steadily on the ground, he let go of my hand, it seemed as though he intend to glide it to my arm or lower back to guide me in but I was already ahead of him, moving towards the entrance of the barn.

Some men and women were already sitting around some sticks, the General looked to me when we sat down. This was my cue to start a fire, could it have been part of a test? Some kind of trial to see if I can even control my power.

Like a baby latching onto their parents I lit a fire in my palm, hearing it crinkle, everything else is quiet, I revel in silence, in the dark when I can pretend there is no one but I in the world. The crinkle of self awareness in a way calms me.

I throw my arms towards the wood, which then too starts to roar in flames, and suddenly nothing seems personal, I feel exposed, but open my eyes and shake off the feeling. It’s just lighting a fire, I remind myself.

Standing there for a moment I stare into the raw beaty of the red and orange dancers, the mild wind too joins in with the solstice. I avoid his stare but he finds a way to make me turn his way, he calls me over with the very movement of his body, I chose not to resist, to get any more conversation out of the way.

Most would kill to be this close to the General, and some would kill to never within a couple of miles of him ever again. I fit nowhere in that scale, which makes it even worse, he doesn’t matter to me, he doesn’t fit anywhere into my life, or my outlooks.

“Did you never want to be with the rest of us?” he asks, the concentration of pressure of the us. He didn’t sound offended or insulted by the fact that I didn’t try to find a way to be with the Grisha. He seemed genuinely confused. Like it were unusual for people with these abilities to shy away from that life.

“You could have been living with the services and care you deserve,” he continues, his voice dark in a way I wasn’t sure was possible. Many described the fold as darkness but a place, they weren’t exactly wrong, but the General’s voice was darkness if it vibrated though words.

What did he know what I deserved? It being clear he thought everyone with these skills should have everything, at least a little less than him.

“I was a run away. Never wanted anywhere, never welcome anywhere. Grisha or not I learned to live a new way, and I like living that way,” I said and it was partially true, learning a new way to live was no easy feat but the freedom was like running around a sandy beach with wind in your hair and the smell of the salty sea.

“Well, you needn’t worry about that, your wanted at Little Palace with others like you, you’re welcome there, it shall be your home,” his voice was slightly gentler, or maybe it was the new hushed tone, as if this was our secret, one that no one can know.

With that he leaped gracefully onto his feet and walked other to his soldiers, solid in his stance but passionate in his words. Just hearing him from here talking about how much he wants to help the people on both sides. For closer up he wasn’t as dark as some might have imagined.

I ended up falling asleep, the kefta was good for that remark, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do, he chose not to sleep, he just sat there, some guards napped and took turns but the General didn’t wink an eye.

We never made eye contact, I couldn’t read his face, and then again like a weak child I drifted to sleep.

For a second night in a row there was no nightmare, and there was always nightmares, they would crawl at me, in every single corner of my head and brain, until I would scream and awaken to sweating and the cold hard ground.

From then on I only allowed myself to sleep a few, a couple of hours.

It’s like my system forgot to be aware, alert.

I woke at the General telling the soldiers to get up and ready to leave, I assume he was coming to wake me up next with his loud words of a calm demeanour but I got to my feet with the left over soldiers, already turning to make my way out of the barn.

Still I had to wait next to where the horses stood because now I would ride with the General, on a horse next to him more specifically, I would escape or else I will be killed.

Once everything else is installed in its places he comes over, only his black stallion in sigh, he meant literally ride with him, now I was starting to have slight regrets. The carriage might have been a better idea.

Without a word he got on then his head turned to me and his hand followed, I rose an eyebrow but the mystic glare of his eyes and tension between his brows put me on edge.

His arms wrapped around me as he reached for the rein and then we were off, the speed felt more real here, faster, for one it might have been the fact that we were gradually losing the carriage behind us.

After getting onto the plainer field there was only us and no on else in sight. It was a quiet journey, one of which the inner of my thighs were burning, I’d never been on a horse before, family was too poor, and I never had a job.

I didn’t dare complain, his heart didn’t show a shudder of anything, but mine was much quicker, whether it was from the thrill of riding a horse or from having the black General so close to mine I would never know?

His arm hovered too closely to mine for a moment and that pass of surety surged through me, it was weird how simply he could make me feel so weak, but so powerful at once, he could make me lose control, that would end in disaster.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though with my whole body screaming for more power to rush into my palm his voice was a whisper. The words echoed around my ear, his lips so close to my ears.

I took in a low breath.

“I’m fine,” I said but he didn’t move from the close position, “Thank you,” I added and like a calling he moved his head back and I felt weak, everywhere.

How was I supposed to get away now?

Part four

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basicallywhiterice · 4 years ago

Text

on top of the world (dong sicheng/winwin)

pairing: sicheng/winwin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, flangst. friends to lovers, highschool!au, dancer!sicheng, spring break trip

summary: The fall to the ground doesn’t seem so daunting when you’re living on top of the world.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: cussing

a/n: if enough people get mad at me i’ll write a part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

this can be read as a standalone, but it is part 1 in the on top of the world series. crossposted on ao3 here!

Chinatown, Washington, D.C., 7:01 p.m.

“Honest Abe? More like, honest babe,” Lucas hollers to Kun and no one in particular, drawing a few disgruntled looks from the pedestrians waiting for the walk signal to flash again. He winks at a man in a navy suit, who rolls his eyes and looks away. Yangyang reaches over for a high-five.

“Dude was 6′ 4″, of course he’s a babe,” Sicheng whistles, leaning behind Yangyang and craning his neck to steal glances at Kun’s phone.

To your right, Ningning flits around, snapping pictures of the street displays and assorted neon lights on the storefronts. You watch her alongside Giselle, who pops her bubblegum, periodically glancing at the traffic light at the bustling intersection. Standing shoulder to shoulder with you to your left, Kun rattles off a hodge-podge of facts about Abraham Lincoln and Ford’s Theatre, which you just passed by, from his phone screen to a faux-enthused Yangyang, who shakes Sicheng by the shoulders every time Kun reads a new fact. He occasionally gets pushed into Lucas’s side, rolling his eyes while doing little to hide the growing grin on his face.

“... and apparently they planned his assassination in the building the Wok n’ Roll restaurant we passed used to be,” Kun remarks.

“OH MY GOD SICHENG ISN’T THAT SO CRAZY?” Yangyang all but screams. “IT WAS IN THE WOK N’ ROLL!”

As you glance over fondly, your eyes linger on the orange hues and kaleidoscopic shadows the nearby “do not walk” signal spills over Sicheng’s face. After a moment, he looks away from Yangyang’s exaggerated bouncing. His gaze flits upwards, meeting your stolen glance with his own.

The world grinds to a halt beneath your feet when a strong gust of wind blows through your hair, propelling you into free fall into the depths of his eyes until Giselle tugs on your arm, pulling you back into the present.

She gestures toward the “walk” signal on the traffic light, and you fall in line with her quick footsteps as you stride across the crosswalk.

“We should go there later,” she suggests. “Try summoning Lincoln’s ghost or something.”

“The Wok n’ Roll?”

“Yeah. Do you think his ghost would have his top hat?”

“I thought ghosts were just spirits and didn’t take material possessions with them?”

“Yeah, but then every ghost would be naked, which would be hella inappropriate.”

Ningning overhears, skipping up to you and looping her arm through yours. “You have to prove the existence of ghosts and take them out to dinner before you get them naked, you pig.”

“I made yo momma sound like a ghost last night,” Lucas quips. “I skipped the ‘getting dinner’ part, though.”

“Goddamn,” Giselle exclaims as you burst into laughter, throwing jokes and jabs at each other for the rest of the trek to the ramen restaurant where you eat dinner.

Hilton Garden Inn, Washington, D.C., 9:13 p.m.

After helping Giselle and Ningning unpack, you knock on the communicating door between your hotel room and the boys’ in order to bother Kun.

Sicheng answers, moving aside so you can step across. Their room is surprisingly clean, although you chalk it up to the limited amount of time they had to unpack earlier today. Lucas sits at the desk in the corner near the window, hunched over his laptop while Yangyang peeks over his shoulder. You glimpse a few pictures of the Washington Monument on his screen before he scrolls down to other marble structures.

“Are you looking up other places to visit?” you ask him.

He glances up, cracking his neck before responding. “Yeah. I can’t find anything special that we don’t know about, though.”

“It’s boutta be lit,” Yanyang chimes in.

“Ayeee,” Lucas responds. They start aggressively patting each other on the back and arms, and you take that as your cue to leave before they wrestle you into whatever weird ritual they’re performing.

Turning, you see Sicheng flop down onto the bed closest to the windows where Kun lays, sprawled out. “Hey,” Kun greets, lifting his head from his pillows.

“Hey,” you reply, remembering the reason why you came to the room in the first place. “Oh yeah! I found a stop sign a few blocks from here on a decently busy street. It’ll take ten minutes to go there and back, tops.”

He groans. “I would love to go, but I just got a stomachache. Tell you what. Sicheng,” he says, propping himself up at a snail’s pace and clasping Sicheng’s shoulder, “you can accompany her there, right?”

“To a stop sign?” Sicheng asks, looking up from his phone.

“A hand-picked, top tier, magnificent stop sign,” you proclaim. “Whenever me and Kun travel, we always get a random passerby to take our picture in front of a stop sign like it’s a tourist attraction. Are you down for potential social awkwardness?”

The corner of Sicheng’s lips tugs up into a grin. “You know it. I’m not ruining your tradition with Kun, am I?” he asks, glancing sideways at Kun for confirmation.

Kun flops back down on the bed. “Nah. If I went right now, I’d probably ruin the tradition by shitting my pants there or something.”

Sicheng chuckles. “Promise? We could print out those pictures and mail them back to your parents like a postcard.”

“I like the way you think,” you say with a scheming smile, nodding at Sicheng before turning back to Kun. “Anyways, drink some warm water to help with your stomachache, maybe? What do you think caused it?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that trashcan pizza slice in the subway.” Sicheng reaches over and flicks his forehead. “Ow! I’m kidding! Why would you torment a sick man like this? Go away and take your pictures already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask as Sicheng asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Worst comes to worst, I’ll take a Pepto-Bismol in fifteen minutes. Go and have fun.” He waves you off, grabbing a spare pillow and lightly smacking Sicheng with it.

“Fine, mom.” Sicheng stands, pocketing his phone. “You ready? I just need to put on my shoes.”

“Yeah.” As he walks over to the closet, you sneak a peek at your reflection through your phone screen. Fighting back a sudden bundle of nerves, you discreetly smooth your t-shirt down, running a hand through your hair. Kun wiggles his eyebrows when he notices, and you flip him off, silently warning him to stay quiet.

He doesn’t. “Have fun on your date with loverboy,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

“After you leave, should I check out the pool?” he murmurs. “Lucas and Yangyang said they don’t feel like swimming tonight.”

“What, isn’t your stomach—”

“Oh my, would you look at the time? Off you go!” He shoos you away, almost standing up to push you away and laying back down before Sicheng can turn around. You’re almost impressed by how well he set you up.

Still, though. If Kun weren’t your best friend, you’d shove him into the hotel’s fountain.

H Street Northwest, Washington D.C., 9:40 p.m.

Half an hour later, you give up on the facade of collecting anti-tourist pictures after the third stop sign, stopping by the Chinatown Express to grab a bowl of noodles with roast duck to go. You walk for a few blocks before finding a bench to sit and split it at, slurping them up in an appreciative silence.

“Oh my god,” Sicheng intones around a mouthful of noodles. When you look over, his cheeks are puffed, an empty spoon descending to rest inside the soup container.

“You look like one of those baby birds eating scraps,” you giggle.

“I’m certainly skilled with chicks,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, then scoot closer to pick up a piece of roast duck. Your knees touch, but neither of you move away. “Do you think there’s a more advanced form of life than humans, like aliens, and they view us how we view animals?” you ask, resuming the conversation you had about the meaning of life before you sat down. “Like we don’t think birds could become self-aware, no matter how intelligent they are, so then we can’t achieve the alien version of self-awareness no matter how philosophical we get.”

“Good question. Uh, alien self-awareness would probably relate to the meaning of life or something, right? Or the secrets of the universe and breaking the laws of physics. And because they’re so big brained, they could control things with their minds and be enlightened with telekinesis. So hypothetically, if I were a wise, sagely alien,” he says, gently picking up your hand and laying it flat against his palm, “I could make my hand pass through yours if I had enough brainpower.”

His hand is warm, and you hope furiously that your palms aren’t sweating. “Was this another excuse to hold my hand?”

“Well, did it work?”

You raise your eyebrows and fail at biting back your smile. “You already know, you just want to hear me say it.”

He grins. “Then say it!”

“Yes, Sicheng, it worked.”

“Awesome.” He moves his right hand to pick up his spoon, briefly tugging your hand with him until he realizes. “Fuck. Sorry, I have to let go of your hand while I eat. Unless you wanna see me struggle with my left hand.”

“As much as I’d love to watch you do that, I feel like that’d be an insult to the rest of the noodles.”

When you finally remember to stand up and throw away the long-forgotten remnants of your food, he holds your hand carefully but firmly as you walk past the White House, and you imagine his hold on your heart must feel the same.

Lafayette Square, Washington, D.C., 11:16 p.m.

“Dance with me,” Sicheng pleads, pulling you under a streetlight. You nod, but your feet stay cemented on the brick-paved sidewalk.

“I don’t know how to.”

“That’s fine.” You place your hand in his outstretched one, and he lifts your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “No one’s around to judge, so just do whatever.”

“Wise words,” you deadpan, but you let his hand on your waist guide your swaying.

He’s right, though. After the initial awkwardness fades, you find that waltzing around isn’t so bad after all—especially when he twirls you around the pocket of light underneath the lamppost so gently it feels like you’re dancing on air.

And when he dips you as you throw your head back, laughing, you think you finally understand why his eyes light up every time he finishes a dance performance.

“Is this what you love about dancing?” you ask once you’ve come back up.

He nods, eyes closing briefly. “Partly. The grand choreographies are the showstoppers, but the simpler moments keep me sane.” His eyes flutter open. “I haven’t let anyone see me dance with such bad technique in a while. I’m usually not this bad, I promise.”

“I know,” you grin. “I saw you at the winter showcase. You were amazing.” Then you take a deep breath, and brace for the worst. “The lyrical piece you closed with was the one you used for your audition, right?”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

Abruptly, he releases your hands and steps back. You allow yourself to feel a twinge of guilt for mentioning the elephant in the room before you steel yourself for the impending conversation.

“We should probably talk about that,” he says.

“We should. Do you want to walk around the National Mall? You said you liked it earlier today.”

“Sure.”

The walk is quiet enough for you to overthink. Sicheng got accepted by a dance studio in Korea, after months of submitting auditions and traveling back and forth between countries. He’s leaving soon, even if he says he’s still waiting to hear back from Juilliard and keeping his options open. You see it in the goodbyes he keeps subconsciously saying and the memories he drinks in like it’s his last chance to, and you’re terrified of what your life will look like without him.

You glance over at him periodically, and he seems to be lost in thought too, staring straight ahead down the well-lit path. His eyebrows furrow as you pass under a streetlight, and you wonder if you brought it up the wrong way.

You’re disappointed in the crude way you shoved the future into a perfectly happy moment, then mad that you’re disappointed. It was inevitable that you’d have to talk about what would come after graduation, and it was inevitable that he’d have to remove himself from your side to chase after his dreams. It’s a wonder he hasn’t pulled away already.

Stupid, you chide yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, loving so hard that your chest implodes from all the weight it carries, already drifting through the pangs of hurt and the wisps of melancholy bringing about a premature nostalgia.

“I’m really going to miss you next year,” Sicheng confesses out of the blue.

You glance up. His hands are shoved into his pants pockets, his eyes roaming over your face like he’s trying to remember all the secrets it hides.

You think you might always run back to him. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:33 p.m.

“So.”

“So,” you echo. “Have you looked at decisions yet?” It’s a pointless question. You know he’s not going to Juilliard.

“Yeah, I looked at them this afternoon in the theater.” He clears his throat. “I got waitlisted.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not going to accept a spot on the waitlist.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I had made my decision anyway.” Then he sighs, his nonchalant facade dropping for good. “You can probably guess.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m accepting the studio’s offer,” he whispers, as if the air is glass and the moment could shatter at any moment. The words float there, above your head, and you imagine grabbing them and hugging them close to your chest before they slip away.

You don’t. “I figured.”

“Yeah. You knew.”

You stare ahead and will the tears not to fall.

“I’m leaving as soon as school ends,” he says, with the sideways glance that marks the start of his rambling distraction process, “and flying there on—”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurt. He pauses mid-sentence. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy. Can we talk about this, for real? You can tell me all the details later, I just—please,” and your voice cracks, “don’t dismiss this.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

A blink, and the first teardrop traces its way down your face.

You waste away the hours of your stolen youth with a boy who wipes your tears away and comforts you over the future that you’ll no longer be a part of.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:57 p.m.

“Before I leave,” Sicheng says, scuffing the heels of his shoes on the gravel pathway, “I know I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. I mean, I’m going to leave anyways, so why not, you know? I have to say something before I’m gone. Um, so, you know this by now, but I… I—” and you already know what’s coming.

“Stop. I know what you’re going to say. Give me a minute to think.”

You make the mistake of glancing up at him, his eyes wide and shining. “Yeah. Alright. Take all the time you need, please.”

In half a year, Sicheng will be gone and you will be left to pick up the pieces of your life that don’t involve him, piecing them together the best you can and carrying on like there isn’t a hole in your heart.

“I’m in love with you.” One thud of your heartbeat. Then another. “Sicheng.”

In half a year, this chance will be long gone, and if you let it slip through your fingers without grabbing on, you’ll never forgive yourself for letting Sicheng become your biggest what-if.

“I’m in love with you too.” He raises his hand to cradle your face in his palm. “Y/n.”

“I’ve wanted to say that for a while now.”

“Me too. It’s not just because I’m leaving, you know.” You nod, his palm momentarily pressing against your cheek. “You knew.”

“Yeah.”

You stare up at him, the boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and holds entire galaxies in his eyes.

“What are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about dating?”

You freeze like a deer in headlights. “Dating?”

“Yeah, would you? Like to date me?”

And then Sicheng turns into a what-if again. “I don’t know,” you confess. “I don’t know if I could handle the split.”

“We don’t have to break up when I leave. We could do long distance,” he suggests, but it sounds flimsy even to your ears.

“I don’t know, Sicheng. I don’t want to end up losing you.”

“I know. We don’t have to, especially if you don’t want to.”

You nod once in acknowledgment, and then you’re stepping into his arms again. He holds you securely, stroking your hair and waiting for you to collect your thoughts.

“I wish we had more time,” you whisper into his shoulder an eternity later. “Could we have been doing this earlier?”

“It would’ve been too fast,” he reasons, and you’re inclined to agree. “We didn’t really… not until this year…”

“Yeah.” You’ve known Sicheng for years and have been close with him for months, but you only fell in love with each other when it was too late. “I wish we started hanging out sooner.”

“Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

“Maybe.”

You pull back enough to glance up at him, gaze dropping to his lips at the close proximity before immediately bringing it back up. His eyes follow the movement, a smile creeping up his face.

“One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asks, and he says it so earnestly that it’s hard to believe he’d be wrong.

“It wouldn’t,” you agree. His nose bumps with yours and you blink up at him once, twice, and then you’re leaning in until the faraway sounds of the city fade away. He’s purposeful and patient and when all you can think of is the brush of his lips against yours, it’s just you and him against the world.

One kiss might not hurt, but one turns to two and two turns to too many and when you finally pull away and stare into his eyes, dazed, your lips tingle from the ghost of his mouth on yours.

At that moment, the way his mouth slowly stretches into a grin does something to your heart, and you think you’d let it break a million times just to be the cause of his smile.

“Yes, Sicheng. Let’s date.”

He kisses you again, beaming so wide that his teeth knock against your lips and pulling you closer, almost picking you up in the process.

You wonder if you made the wrong decision.

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years ago

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“Private villa and the fur chinchilla, When he post me, all the hoes get sicker. Fuckboy killer, I don’t need fillers, Never been a lame so the real bitches feel it.” —Saweetie

Word Count: 1.3K Pairing: Dabi X Reader Context: Everything is the same, but the LOV are rich af bc they be scamming the hell out of people. Warnings: explicit language, drug and alcohol use, sexual content (no straight up smut tho), nudity ig but implied bc this takes place at a strip club lol

All characters are 21+

A/N: When I tell you I had way too much fun making this little header...someone needs to take photoshop away from me. Quickly! Also, sorry if your name is Rebecca, MJ, or Rinah. I promise I like you. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Dabi | Tap In

It had been a long week.

After dealing with the authorities and keeping tabs on his sperm donor—as he liked to put it—Dabi needed a way to take the stress away.

And he knew the perfect way to do so.

Dabi took a long inhale of the thick blunt in his hand before puffing out a cloud of smoke that mixed along with the misty air. The multicolored strobe lights shined over the dancers who skillfully spun around the pole. The cheers and chatters within the crowd swirled well into the music and quickly became background noise.

He sunk into the couch, watching the scene with a lazy gaze, and relaxed as the hands of giggling waiters and waitresses smoothed over the expensive material of his coat.

“Feeling good, big boss?” a pretty redhead asked. She’s no stranger to him, but he cant remember if her name started with a C or an R.

Regardless of her name, she was good with her hands. After a minute of staring at a dancer performing an impressive back hook spin, Dabi was quick to groan in relief when she massaged a knot out of his neck.

“Fantastic,” he sighed.

An attractive man, with hair like gelatin, popped up on his other side, stealing his attention with the drink in his hand. The woman glared at him in distaste.

“Would you care for a Martini? I know you like them stirred,” he purred, eyes on the dark-haired man’s crystal embedded watch before they slowly eyed his exposed chest.

Dabi took another puff, thinking about if he was in the mood for it. He was just about to answer when someone else chimed in.

“You had that last week. What about a Whiskey Sour?” This time it was a woman with snake like features. She leaned in, slim tongue hissing dangerously next to his lips. “You can never go wrong with that.”

“Everybody knows Dabi prefers that on Saturday’s,” the first women huffed.

“And everyone knows Dabi prefers a Screwdriver on a night like this,” another person said, their hand gliding along his chest. Dabi shrugged but didn’t pay much attention to them. The waiter sent a challenging smirk to the redhead. “Something you probably wouldn’t know much about, Rebecca.”

Ahh so that’s what her name was. I knew it had an R and a C in it.

“Fuck off, MJ.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Here we go,” the man with gelatin hair grumbled.

They ignored him and continued their bickering.

“Just say your jealous of me and go!”

“Jealous? Baby, I wouldn’t be jealous of you on your best day. Like, ew.”

The snake-like woman rolled her eyes in irritation. “I can’t stand you bitches,” she muttered under her breathe.

Rebecca’s eyes turned a violent red as she seethed in anger. “Why you dirty little—“

“Am I interrupting something?”

For the first time since he got to the club, Dabi’s eyes found focus. Real focus. His crystal blue eyes lit up against the darkness of room when your voice silenced the petty argument going on.

You stood in front of him, chin high and eyes confident despite the four pairs of unfriendly glares on you. It was always like this. The dark-haired man could walk into any room and be immediately surrounded by people who shamelessly fawned over him. Whether it was for his money, his power, his undeniable looks, or the mysterious aura that followed him, they were on the man the moment he made his presence known. They’d light his cigar, buy him drinks, and flaunt whatever body parts they needed to for a second of his attention.

Sometimes, Dabi would mess around when he had the time. Other times, he’d just enjoy the attention. But all of that went out the window when you came into the picture. And whether they wanted to admit it or not, everybody knew it.

For some reason, he just couldn’t get out of his head no matter how many times he fucked you silly.

Dabi liked the knowing smirk on your lips as his eyes raked over your face and body, committing every feature to memory as if he hadn’t had the pleasure of indulging in it before.

It was something about the way you wore the clothes he bought for you so well. It made his pants uncomfortably tight in the best way.

“Nothing at all, doll-face. Mind keeping me company?” he said.

“Sure thing,” you shrugged.

You squeezed through the small parade he had going on, and plopped yourself right on his lap. Dabi happily attached his grip to the meat of your thigh, enjoying the way your hand raked down his tattooed neck.

“Why don’t you guys give us some privacy?” he off-handedly said. “Oh and Rinah was it? Can you get a Tequila Sunrise for Y/N? Two cherries. Gin tonic for me.”

“You remembered,” you chuckled, sensually dragging your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Of course I did, babe.”

The four internally groaned as Dabi seemed to become enraptured in your gaze.

“It’s Rebecca,” the woman muttered before going off to get the drink. They all dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

After your drink was made, you two spent the next half hour talking, laughing, drinking and smoking together. You enjoyed each other’s company. It was easy between you two. Your adventures were wild from leaving the country to spending nights skinny dipping in random pools. It was fun and there wasn’t much commitment on either part, however, despite indulging in your separate endeavors, you always came back to each other. And you would never admit it to one another, but there was comfort to be taken in that.

Before you knew it, your legs were seated on either side of his hips and his hands were feeling on your ass. The curtains surrounding the lounge chair had been closed long ago and it was only a matter of time before you’d take advantage of the privacy.

“So remind me again why I haven’t heard from you in two weeks?” you questioned, a teasing smile in your voice.

You rolled your head and fluttered your eyes closed as Dabi trailed hot kisses on your chest and shoulders.

“Police were on our ass. Had to move locations. Important shit,” he responded between each kiss.

“More important than lil’ ole me?”

“Can’t finance your shopping addiction if I’m in jail, sweetheart.”

You almost gave up your playfulness when his veiny hand gripped your jaw and his tongue slowly traveled up the length of your neck. If the bulge against your thigh was anything to go by, he was more than excited, but you wanted to have your fun.

A slight grind of your hips had him growling against you. You threaded your hands through the back of his hair to pull his head back.

“But you promised we’d go to that Italian restaurant downtown. I was really in the mood for some pasta,” you faux pouted.

Your puffed out lips and slow grinding took him over the edge.

“Then I’ll take you to fucking Italy next week to make up for it,” he rumbled before swinging you down so you were on your back. You laughed at his antics but it was short lived as he gave you a kiss that made you see stars.

Once you separated, a silver line of saliva breaking your connection, a devilish smile took over your lips as he hovered above you with one of his own.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said.

He laughed through his nose and shook his head. You were a pain in the ass, yet here he was ready to devour you at any second.

Dabi licked his lips before lowering himself down your body.

“Now if you don’t mind,” he began. Your stomach erupted in butterflies as his eyes remained on your own. He slowly pulled your pants off you in waves and sent you a smirk that gave you goosebumps.

“I’m in the mood for something a little different.”

#bnha dabi #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #bnha scenario #mha scenarios #mha fics #touya todoroki x reader #honorable mentions:#his sperm donor aka endeavor sksksksks #and y/n...whoever the fuck they are #i enjoyed writing this wayyyy too much #get yall a dabi like this to finance your way through life #okay that's it #2.5k follower event and celebration!#not smut but like spicy ig??? idk it was just sum bumpin and grindin

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years ago

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Korekiyo Shinguuji x oblivious crush reader - short imagine

Request: could i request some headcanons or an imagine (whichever you prefer, i’m not picky lol) for Korekiyo with a crush on an incredibly oblivious female reader who never realizes he’s trying to flirt with her/trying to see if she likes him back? sorry if this is a weird request haha :,)

THIS ISN’T A WEIRD REQUEST, KIYO IS MY BABY DADDY. Also you requested female reader, but I wrote this with a female in mind and then realized I never used any feminine-assigned words or pronouns in here, so anyone can read this with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Warnings: PG-13 in terms of sexual/romantic scenarios and wording

“So, in essence, that is why the Egyptians worshipped Hathor, in all her grace and beauty. Isn’t that fascinating, y/n?” Korekiyo mused, watching you carefully as you waltzed through the rows of scrolls and ancient texts in his research lab.

“Yes, it’s a wonderful story! You really are lucky to have traveled to Eygpt! Heck, I’d never even left Japan until...well coming to wherever we are trapped now. Do you mind?” You pointed to a particularly intricate and elaborate book cover on a high up shelf.

“Not at all, my dear. Feel free to take any materials from my lab that you wish, as long as you promise I can visit your lab freely as well?” You let the words ‘my dear’ ghost over your ears with little to no reaction. Normally, if such a handsome man had playfully rolled those words off of his tongue in your direction, your neck hairs would have stood on end like a startled cat, but with Korekiyo it was different. You did harbor some...feelings for him, but he called everyone dear, right? He was always spewing mature and polite crap like that.

“Yeah, of course, though I don’t know why an anthropologist would ever waste his time in a plain old dance studio,” you chuckled, on your tip-toes struggling for the tome far above you. Korekiyo snuck up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached up and plucked the book down for you, placing it gently in your hands. You held the book to your own chest and turned to face him, finding yourself flush against the wooden bookshelf with the lanky anthropologist trapping you in place. “Thanks, Kiyo!” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as he tilted his head at you like a curious puppy hearing the word ‘treat!’ You tried to settle your stuttering heart. Surely he was just being nice, right?

“Think nothing of it…” his hands came up slowly on either side of your head, caging you in between his slender arms. “You know, y/n, Hathor is known mainly for her impressive duality. She balances femininity and softness with strength and vengeance. She is a protector, but also is the harbinger of dance, joy, love...sexuality.” His voice deepened into a rasp that was like melted chocolate flowing freely over your ears. His proximity was beginning to make you dizzy. “You remind me of Hathor in many ways. I see the way you take care of your friends here, the way you defend people, but also the with which you dance: the water-like movements of your passion.”

“...” you stood there, silent for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. He looked at your expectantly, his expression unreadable through his mask. “Well, thanks, Kiyo! I never thought you’d be into ballet! Though I guess dance is a part of culture as much as anything else!” You ducked under his arm with a chipper attitude, shuffling into the open space of his lab, and he sighed deeply, looking at the ground in self-pity. Were you really not interested in him? He couldn’t blame you. Many people saw him as a creep, a pariah. He was a teenager that wore a mask at all times for crying out loud. He endlessly spewed random facts and unsolicited folk tales. Of course people avoided him. But you...you visited him every day. Before his lab opened up, you met with him in the library and inquired about his day. You asked him to eat lunch with you, and walk you back to the dorms after dinner. You asked to hear his stories, and he found himself growing to like you more and more. He didn’t want to admit his feelings until he knew for sure that you felt the same, but it was looking like his old friend, rejection, might win the war once again.

“Kiyo, this lab is simply amazing! You’re so lucky... you got the biggest one yet! My studio looks like a janitor’s closet compared to this!” You spun around on the new floor on his lab, taking in the sights, book in hand. You’d been here every day since it opened, but dedicated yourself to one section a day, having only reached this floor earlier that evening. You thought knowledge like this deserved time and respect. Korekiyo agreed of course.

“Well when one’s area of study is the entire world, a proportionately large area is needed for said study,” he drawled, slinking along behind you as you sat in a chair on the main floor. He sat in the chair across from you in front of the wall of display cases holding ceremonial swords and masks as you fingered through the book in wonder.

“Woah…” your eyes widened innocently.

“Ahhh, the Kama Sutra? You’re holding one of the oldest copies known to man.” He leaned closer to you, splaying his fingers over the page you were on slowly and seductively. “I had no idea you were this kind of person, y/n…” there’s that confectionary tone again, sweet and dripping with carnal desire.

“N-no of course not I just...what kind of person do you mean? I mean...I think the book is just interesting, the cover and the design on the spine drew me in and-“

“We should never judge a book based on its cover, yes?” He let his honeyed-words sink in to your doe-like eyes, “I think human beings, much like this book, hide things within our pages not immediately evident on our covers.”

“I agree…” his words flew right over your head. “Like you! I didn’t know you had an interest in ballet at all!” He was starting to get frustrated, but he exhaled deeply, his inner voice telling him to have patience.

“Well, yes, I’ve seen many different forms of dance, and of course, ballet is delicate and breath-taking, but also very strenuous. Another thing we shouldn’t take at face value. I’ve seen the feet of many a poor dancer after a performance, and it really is a harsh contrast to the grace of the dance itself.”

“Yes, yes! You get it!” He smiled at your child-like wonder, with you seeing only the crinkle of his eyes above the mask. “I know so many men who don’t even think dance of any kind can be a sport. I think many so-called atheletes would give up on day one of ballet lessons.” You chuckled, and he let himself be enveloped in your laughter. He was complete entranced in your aura.

“So, you will allow me to view your ballet practice in private some time? I’ve seen you with your lab door open in passing, but I would be absolutely delighted if you’d honor me with a private session, so I could focus on you and only you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long raven hair falling around him like a bed canopy.

“Oh, Kiyo…” you began, your own heart hurting at the words you were about the speak, but it was for the best. You didn’t want to waste his time, not in a place like this. “I know you’re interested in ballet, but after those first two trials and this whole not-knowing-when-we-are-gonna-die thing, I don’t think it would be a worthy use of your time to pull yourself away from all of this,” you gestured to the gigantic room around you, “in order to-”

“Y/N-!” He spoke angrily and abruptly, startling you, before composing himself and beginning again, taking the book from your hand and instead intertwining his fingers in your own. “...I am not interested in ballet, so much as I am interested in you. Do you understand?” You felt your body tense up in complete shock. He wasn’t serious right…? He was teasing you, taking advantage of your naïveté and your obvious feelings for him. Maybe you weren’t hiding them as well as you’d thought.

“Me…?” You looked at his wrapped hand in yours, the bandages scratchy texture pulling you back down to earth.

“Yes, you.” He spoke bluntly, with nothing but compassion in his voice.

“But you’re...you’re so…” he braced himself, waiting for the insults and degrading comments that always followed when he let his walls down around normal people.

“...Odd? Long-winded? A freak of nature?” He sighed, pulling away.

“Beautiful…” you could hardly hear your own words pouring from your mouth, the pounding of your heart beat too loud in your ears. You grabbed his hand, and in a moment of fragile silence, began to unwrap the linen that covered every inch of his fingers, then down to his palms and wrists. His hands, now revealed to you fully for the first time, were just as beautiful as his voice and cat-like golden eyes. They were pale, ghostly, ethereal. They looked like they could break at the slightest touch, but withstand any hard labor that was thrown at them at the same time. “Korekiyo, you spend so much time telling others that humanity is beautiful, that you haven’t taken the time to see it in yourself, have you? At least...not for a long while.”

“Y/N, I-” you reached for the top of his mask with shaking fingers, and he jerked away roughly, terrified. When you reached out again, he didn’t move, steeling himself to be exposed to you. You deserved to see the truth. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Your fingertips lingered at the top of the mask before tugging it down gently. He kept his eyes shut tightly as you observed his full face.

The tip of his nose, which you could tell from the nose bridge was thin, came to an adorable point above his lips. A delicate, milky white chin led up on either side to a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and a flawless complexion. That powdery complexion was met in stark contrast to the blood-red pigment of a matte lipstick staining his lips.

“Y/N, I didn’t want you to see me...truly see me for the first time like thi-” you brought your lips closer to his until they were touching, and soon found yourself leaning into his chest, into his lap in his seated position in front of you. Your lips pressed into his, a bit more bold now, and your confidence spurred his own. You now straddled his hips, your legs on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your hips, his hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulled back, scanning your face for any regret, any shame or fear, and sensing none, crashed his lips onto yours again. He roughly sucked on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from your mouth that excited him more than anything corporeal had in a long time. You never thought he’d be such a good kisser.

“Korekiyo…” you pulled back again, giving you both some much-needed air. “I never thought that...someone like you would even glance my way. You’re so intelligent, so regal and elegant and different from the norm and…” your words trailed off, and his thumb reached up to your lips, roughly wiping away the red lipstick that clung onto your face as a reminder that he had been there.

“Likewise, y/n,” he reclined back into the chair with you still on his lap, a little too cocky and cheeky for his own good, but to say the smirk on his messy red mouth wasn’t turning you on would be a lie.

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thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

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Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?" She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

#stay spooky #halloween #humans are weird #aliens #humans are space orcs #haunted #writeblr

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wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Angel (Pt. 4)

Harry Styles x Reader

A/N: This one was inspired by Harry’s song Only Angel. It’s five parts in total. If you like it, be sure to give it a reblog and check out the other parts linked below. Thanks, and enjoy <3

Warnings: Slight jealousy, some making out. Swearing. It’s long. Seriously.

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

Forty-five minutes later, I was all dolled up and in a cab on the way to the house where the after party was being held. Now that the situation with Harry was resolved, I was free to relax and fully enjoy my accomplishment. I had been working toward becoming a Victoria’s Secret Angel since I was eleven years old, and now, eleven years later, I finally was.

Giddy with excitement, I pulled out my phone to text Harry and tell him that I was close. He replied almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for me.

‘Good. I’ll be out back by the pool.’

I nodded to myself and put my phone away since the cab was pulling up to the house. Thanking and paying the cabbie, I stepped out. My stomach filled with nervous excitement, and I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the bustling house.

It was a modern two story with large windows that allowed me to see the party in full swing inside. Music could be heard thumping at the windows, and people could be seen walking around and mingling. I caught sight of Elsa on the second floor, looking out the window at the city, and waved when she saw me. Her face split into a wide smile, to which I smiled back, and she motioned for me to meet her downstairs. Nodding at her enthusiastically, I made my way to the large front door.

The music was louder inside, the deep bass thumping through my heart immediately. I smiled and waved at a few of the girls and other people I knew as my eyes searched for Elsa. It didn’t take me long to find her quickly descending the stairs, eyes searching for me.

“Elsa!” I called when I spotted her.

She squealed and rushed to pull me into a hug, “Y/N, you made it!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm and returned her hug, “Ya, sorry I’m late. I had something I needed to take care of.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling back to look at me, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh ya, it just took a while,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Good, now let’s get you a drink.”

Elsa kept me close to her side for the next hour, insisting on getting some alcohol in me and taking me to see the other girls. Every time I tried to break away, telling her I was supposed to be meeting someone, she protested and demanded that I stayed with her a little longer. Knowing how she could get when she drank and not wanting to upset my best friend out of the girls, I stayed. But time was ticking and I knew Harry had to be wondering where I was, if he was still waiting at all.

Finally Elsa became engrossed in a conversation with some photographer, and I was able to slip away. I knew she wouldn’t miss me so I didn’t feel bad about ditching her, especially since I had Harry waiting for me.

I moved quickly through the crowd in the house, making my way out to the pool. The view caused me to pause in my search for just a moment, insisting that I take in the lights in the trees and the fields in the valley below. Shaking it off before I could get too sucked in, I searched the crowd for my childhood love.

There was a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth set up to one side of the pool. A large crowd was dancing, and I briefly wondered how all these people got invited before moving my attention the the couched and chairs around the pool. Some groups were smaller than others, and there were even some people in the pool, but I couldn’t find Harry anywhere.

Sighing, I moved closer to the dance floor, hoping that he was over there. After a few moments of scanning the crowd, I was about ready to give up when I spotted his soft brown curls.

I realized that the reason I hadn’t been able to see him before was because he was laying down on one of the couches that had its back to me. Now, I saw that his head was on the lap of one of his band members, the woman who had played the drums. In fact he was surrounded by women, models to be precise. I rolled my eyes at how the young women leaned forward and ogled him as he spoke. Harry just basked in the attention, the exact same attention whore he had been since we were younger.

As Harry laughed, pushing himself up and out of his bandmate’s lap, I considered turning around, going back to Elsa, and getting black-out drunk. Harry was the same as he’d always been. He had always loved attention, especially the attention of pretty women, and right now, he had the attention of a lot of pretty women. I honestly didn’t know how I could compete with that, and I was jealous. I was now willing to admit that I was jealous of the attention he gave those women because I still loved him, and because of that, I didn’t want to be sober anymore.

Just as I was about to turn around and go drown myself in a bottle of vodka, Harry caught site of me. His entire face lit up, granting me with a large, genuinely happy smile and a view of his dimples. Looking away only briefly, he made a quick excuse to his group and in turn earned a knowing smile from his bandmate. Then he was pushing himself up and practically bounding over to me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart melting at his enthusiasm. He was like a big puppy, so happy to see his person after a long day away. I realized that I was that person he was so excited to see, but refused to think about what that meant.

“Angel, you finally made it!” Harry called over the music, engulfing me in a giant hug as soon as he reached me.

“Hey, Harry,” I laughed, hugging him back.

I could feel the eyes of the models Harry had just left watching us as we stayed connected a few seconds longer than appropriate, but I didn’t care. Harry’s hugs had always been my favorite. He held you so close and secure, you just couldn’t help but feel safe. His hug brought out all of the feelings I was never good at hiding and didn’t want to deny anymore.

All too soon Harry squeezed me tighter then released me, pulling back to look me over. He whistled lowly and appreciatively at what he saw.

“Damn,” he swore, biting his lip, “you look gorgeous.”

I blushed a little but smiled. Alessandra and Elsa had helped me pick this dress months ago when I was first told I’d be walking as an official Angel, wings and all. I was worried that it was too much, but they both insisted that I looked amazing and this was the perfect place to wear it. Now, seeing Harry’s face, I was glad I did.

The dress was essentially simple, all tight black material clinging to my curves and stopping mid thigh. The stunning part was the neckline. A black collar twisted around my neck then parted at my chest, remaining open in a deep V that stopped just above my belly button. A harness shaped chain of crystals held the two sides closed and wrapped around my shoulders to drape delicately down the open back. At first I was self-conscious about putting so much skin on display, but considering I had just walked a globally broadcasted fashion show in nothing but lingerie and heels, I decided it really didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” I answered, giving Harry the same inspection he gave me, “You look pretty good yourself.”

He took a step back and did a little spin so I could see his outfit fully, making me laugh. He was wearing fitted black jeans and an open black suit jacket. Underneath was a loose fitting sky blue shirt with little white flower-like symbols on it. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned, leaving his smooth skin and a simple silver cross on display. When he moved, the swallows on his chest played peek-a-boo through the opening. His short hair sat as messy chocolate curls, a perfectly styled mess. All in all, he looked every bit the heart throb we both knew he truly was.

“Thanks, angel,” he grinned.

“Of course, but that sure is a lot of skin on display tonight, Mr. Styles,” I teased, trigging on the lapel of his jacket.

Harry laughed, dimples on full display, “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get cold wearing this dress in December?”

I shrugged, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “No. I figured if I got cold it’d be easy enough to find a man willing to lend me his jacket.”

“You’re not wrong there, love,” He said, glancing around, “you’ve already got them all starin’.”

I rolled my eyes internally, knowing full well that this wasn’t even the most revealing outfit here. It was obvious to me that Harry was jealous, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me kind of giddy. Seeing Harry again and resolving our past was bringing up feelings I’d been burying since I saw pictures of him and Taylor Swift for the first time. I had missed him and all the fun we’d had together. I was scared to admit it, but I hoped that the way he was acting, his choice to release that song, meant that he missed me too. Most of all, I hoped he wanted me back too.

Deciding that teasing Harry was fun, and that I wanted to see more of his jealous side, I looked around, “Really, you think so? ‘Cause I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, and I wouldn’t mind finding a cute one.”

“Well I might know of a pretty cute guy who’s been looking for an Angel,” Harry hummed, pulling me against his chest.

“Ya?” I grinned as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

He nodded, “Ya, and right now he’d like to ask that Angel to dance.”

“I don’t know,” I teased, “if it’s who I think it is, this Angel might not want to dance with him.”

“And why the hell not?” Harry asked, pulling away in mock offense.

I grinned at him, disconnecting myself and preparing to run, “Because if I remember correctly, he’s not a very good dancer, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

He growled and lunged after me, but I just laughed and took off running toward the house the best I could in six inch heels. Harry caught me in no time, picking me up from behind and spinning me around. I squealed and giggled, drawing attention to us but not caring. Harry growled again, nipping at my ear as he carried me toward the dance floor. I laughed again, stilling in his arms so he didn’t accidentally drip me as he walked.

“We’ll see about me being a bad dancer,” Harry growled, placing me down on the edge of the dance floor and spinning me around to face him.

I chuckled as I stumbled against him, “Whatever you say Mr. Styles.”

Turning back around, I pressed my back against him front. I took a second to listen to the music, letting the heavy bass take root in my heart, before I started moving against him. The music guided my hips, prompting me to roll and dip with the beats. Harry stood behind me, stunned for a few moments, but quickly recovered and placed his hands on my hips. Matching the movement of his hips to mine, he danced with me. With a smile on my face, I slid my hand up to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck, pressing a kiss there. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of Harry dancing against me.

It had been a long time since I had danced with Harry. The last time was when I was 17, the same night we slept together for the first time. He had rented out the club with his bandmates and thrown a party. I tagged along with my brother, hoping to blow off some steam after a hard week, but never expecting that my crush would tell me he liked me back. I wore some skimpy shorts and a top, typical club attire, and Harry was pissed. He didn’t like all of the male attention I was getting, especially since a lot of it was coming from his bandmates. So when I moved to the dance floor and started dancing, he followed me.

That night Harry was quick to press against me, immediately matching my moves and whispering in my ear that I was asking for trouble. I just turned around and asked him how I could get into trouble with him always around to protect me. After that we danced for hours, and at the end of the night he kissed me and told me he’d been waiting to do that for years. I went home with him for the first time after that, and even knowing everything that happened after, I’d do it again in a heart beat.

“So,” Harry spoke up, pulling at my side to get me to turn around to face him, “still think I’m a bad dancer?”

I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, “No, I never did. I was just teasing you.”

“Of course you were,” he huffed, pulling me even closer, “You always were a tease.”

I shrugged, “Your reactions are funny.”

“Hmmm, you think so, angel?” Harry hummed, leaning down to press his forehead against mine.

The music changed, playing the first slower song I’d heard since arriving. I didn’t recognize it, but it was obvious that Harry did because he smiled down at me. I realized why a few moments later when his voice drifted through the air. Rolling my eyes at his obvious pleasure over them playing his song, I allowed him to sway us to the beat. We danced in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. I laid my head on Harry’s chest and listened to the words of his song. It was soft and sad, but still good. I began to realize that I had been missing out by not listening to his album before.

“What’s the song about?” I asked, propping my chin on Harry’s chest to look up at him.

“This one?” he asked as he looked down at me.

I rolled my eyes but smiled at him, “What other song would I be talking about?”

He shrugged and returned my smile, “I don’t know what goes on in your crazy mind.”

I rolled my eyes again and nudged him, “So what’s it about?”

“Just drifting apart from an old girlfriend,: he answered with a sheepish smile.

I frowned, beginning to get suspicious of his avoidance of the question. Why didn’t he want me to know who it was about?

“Which one?” I asked, pulling back to look at him better.

Harry averted his eyes but answered, “Taylor.”

I made a face, old feelings of jealousy and resentment rising to the surface. I loved Taylor Swift’s music, and I thought she was an amazing person, but thinking about Harry’s relationship with her still upset me. She was, after all, the woman I thought he left me for. She was definitely a sore subject. Clearing my throat, I untangled myself from his arms and moved off the dance floor.

“Angel? Where are you going?” Harry asked, following close behind me.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” I answered as I made my way to the back door, “I’d rather get a drink.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, but I wan’t going to lie to you.”

Turning back over my shoulder, I shot him a small smile, “I know, Harry. It’s ok, I just need a drink.”

“Well, then let me get my angel a drink,” Harry said, taking my hand and moving in front to lead me to the kitchen.

After weaving through the crowd in the interior of the house, we made it to the kitchen. Harry didn’t ask what I wanted, but went ahead and made me a Malibu and Sprite.

“You remembered,” I laughed as I took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“Of course,” he said, leaning on the counter beside me, “It was the only thing that didn’t make you gag.”

I shrugged, no longer ashamed by my intolerance for the taste of alcohol, “It’s not my fault alcohol tastes so bad.”

Harry chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a call of my name from behind us. We turned to find one of my fellow Angels in the doorway, a large smile on her pretty face.

“Hey Romee,” I said, turning my body to face her more fully, “what’s up?”

She held her empty cup as she moved further into the kitchen, “Just needed a refill.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything as I watched her mix a drink. Romee was a relatively new Angel too, having been added just two years before me, but we weren’t close. Ever since I had been announced as the newest Angel she had been cordial, but somewhat cold. I had tried to show her that I wasn’t there to replace her, but it didn’t matter, we would never be friends.

“So,” Romee said after taking a sip of her freshly made drink, “are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I fought the urge to role my eyes, unsurprised by her request. It was no secret that I grew up with Harry, and it would be obvious to anyone who had seen us together tonight that we were close. It was also obvious that Harry was a very handsome, very eligible young man, so of course Romee wanted the chance to properly flirt with him.

“Harry, this is Romee Strijd,” I said, “and Romee, this is Harry Styles.”

Romee smiled as she extended her hand out to Harry, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, love,” Harry answered, giving her a charming smile as he bowed slightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “Wow, what a gentleman. Where have you been all night?”

This time I did roll my eyes, taking a giant swig of my drink as Harry answered, “Oh you know, just looking for an angel.”

Romee smirked, taking a step forward so she could rest her hand on his chest, “Well lucky you, you found one.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest, flooding my body with heat and urging me to grab that bitch by the hair and haul her away from my man. But then Harry shot me a look over her shoulder that calmed me down. His eyes were playful, telling me that he knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

“You’re right,” Harry said, smiling and stepping around her so he could wrap an arm around my shoulder, “and she’s right here.”

A smug smile slipped onto my features as Harry pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and Romee’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I see,” Romee said, her features relaxing into an obviously fake smile, “you’ve stumbled across the newest addition to our ranks.”

“I wouldn’t say stumbled, more like finally found what I’ve been searching for,” Harry answered without taking his eyes off of me.

I smiled up at him and laughed when Romee just huffed and walked away.

Harry made a face at me, “Oops, did I just get you in trouble?”

I shrugged and turned so that I could wrap both hands around his waste, “I don’t care. The look on her face was worth it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to bump his nose against mine, “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

I scrunched my nose up and nodded. It was great to see him chose me over Romee. It was even better to hear that he had been searching for me. He may have thought I’d given up on him, but he hadn’t given up on me.

“So,” I started, my tone teasing, “you’ve been searching for me?”

Harry blushed but didn’t deny it, instead closing to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from its place back behind my ear.

When he didn’t answer, I chose to keep teasing him, “So what is it about me exactly that you’ve missed enough to search for me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Definitely not how much you love teasing me.”

“Hey!” I protested, smacking his chest with my hand, “You like it when I tease. It means I’m giving you attention.”

“I guess that is true,” he conceded with a smile.

“You still haven’t answered.”

Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “Well, let’s see. Your smile…” He paused to trace my lips with his thumb, “your laugh…” This time he tickled my sides, causing me to giggle, “your voice…” He paused again, a smirk tugging at his lips, distracting me from the path his hands were taking, “your ass.”

With that he smacked my ass causing me to screech out his name. He just laughed, letting me slip out of his arms as I pushed away.

“Harry Styles,” I said, hands on my hips and a stern expression on my face, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged, still smirking as he took a step toward me, “Just answering your question, angel.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, “I was giving you the opportunity to be sweet but you ruined it.”

“C’m on angel, you know I’m just a dirty boy at heart,” he said innocently, still advancing toward me, “I can’t help it.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a step back, trying to keep distance between us. I knew from experience that we were treading in dangerous waters, and keeping our distance was probably the best option. Unfortunately for me, the kitchen didn’t agree, and the next time Harry took a step forward, my back made contact with the other counter.

“Shit,” I breathed as Harry crowded into my space, securing his hands on the counter on either side of me.

“You’re mine now,” he growled playfully, face only a hair’s width away from mine.

“Oh ya?” I asked, my eyes glued to his lips, “and what are you going to do with me?”

“‘m gonna kiss you,” he breathed.

He waited only a second to make sure I wasn’t going to protest before closing the distance between us. Our lips crashed together, each of us pouring years of pent up emotions into the kiss. Without missing a beat, I opened my mouth for him as I ran my hands up his chest to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry moaned lowly when I gave a sharp tug, chasing me to grin into the kiss. This only spurred him on more, as he pushed himself against me harder and deepened the kiss.

I moaned when Harry bit my lip, and he responded by grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the counter. My legs parted for him naturally as he slotted himself between them. Now that I could feel his hardening member pressed up against me, I couldn’t stop my hands from wandering down. Panting against Harry’s lips, I stroked his clothed member once before gripping it tightly. He moaned again, this time louder than before, stoking the fire inside me. Matching his moan with a small whimper of my own, my hands scrambled for the button of his pants.

“Angel,” Harry moaned, his voice sounding pained.

“Harry,” I answered back with determination as my fingers finally managed to pop open his button.

“Angel, wait,” he said more forcefully this time, covering my hands with his own and stopping me from unzipping his zipper.”

“Why?” I whine, still trying to accomplish my goal.

Harry chuckled lowly but didn’t move his hands, “Angel, we can’t do this here.”

Frowning, I looked up at him with pouty eyes, “Why not?”

“Y/N,” he raised a brow and took a step back, “I really don’t think you want to risk someone walking in on us.”

With that minuscule distance, the lustful haze lifted from my mind just enough for me to remember where we were. My eyes widened comically and I cursed, causing Harry to laugh.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, buttoning his pants.

“I can’t believe I almost fucked you in the kitchen of a house where there are at least a hundred people partying,” I blinked, still a little dazed from that kiss.

“Me neither,” Harry said, clearly amused as he helped me down from the counter and covered me while I fixed my dress, “I would never expect such deviant behavior from my angel.”

I rolled my eyes and slapped his chest, now fully back to reality, “Shut up! It’s not my fault I got carried away. I haven’t been fucked in five years.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stopped, eyes wide at my admission, “You haven’t had sex in five years?”

I blushed, but nodded, “Not since the last time with you.”

“Why not?”

I blushed even harder, “No one ever came close enough to you to catch my attention.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked with a smug expression, gathering me back into his arms.

I rolled my eyes, “Well that and the fact that I was always too busy to really look.”

“Well it sounds like you, my angel, are in need of a good fucking.”

I scrunched up my nose at his crude way of putting it, but didn’t bother denying it. Instead I said, “Think you could help me out with that?”

Harry grinned, lust lighting up his eyes, “It would be my pleasure.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #x reader #x y/n #ex!harry styles #ex!harry styles x reader #reader insert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader smut #angel #part 4 #multipart #resolved angst

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

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pirate king (38) || atz

It’s cold here.

The second you step into the tunnel before you, the stone wall rises behind you once more, plunging you and your captain into darkness, the only light that reaches you is at what you presume to be the end of the tunnel. It’s far dryer than you expected for the lair of a sea witch, but you’re definitely not complaining.

Hongjoong takes your hand and moves in front of you, armed with his cutlass. You think about drawing yours as well, but wielding a blade with your non-dominant hand is probably going to do more damage than any actual help, so you refrain from doing so.

Every step you take sends echoes bouncing eerily off the walls around you, so you hold on tighter to your captain’s hand and stick to his side, shying away from the walls. Hongjoong’s grip on your hand is firm and warm, pulling you with him as the two of you finally reach the end of the cave and step into the light.

To your surprise, you’re not in a cave anymore.

It’s a beach.

After joining a pirate crew, you had been on the sea for most of your time since awakening. And when you hadn’t, you had often been at docks or beaches, and yes, you would like to say you had seen many beautiful beaches in your short “life” here so far.

But this beach is like none other you’ve seen before.

Tall, jagged cliffs rise around you like fingers stretching for the grey, stormy sky above you. No water touches your skin yet, but you can taste it in the air you breathe that a torrential downpour is on the brink of falling. The white, foaming sea ploughs forward and would have crashed down upon the beach you are on if it weren’t for the rocky reef barriers breaking them apart, sea spray flying into the air.

“I hope this is symbolism for something bad coming in the near future.” You mutter grimly, but before your captain can reply, there’s someone standing before you.

You don’t know how she got here. One second she wasn’t there and one second she simply was, looking completely calm and unruffled as if she had been there the whole time and you two merely hadn’t noticed her.

You nearly leap out of your skin in fright, Hongjoong handling this surprise a lot better than you are. He pulls you behind him in one smooth motion, tip of his cutlass pointed right towards the woman.

“Who are you?”

The first thought that registers in your mind is that she’s beautiful.

No, beautiful is actually too tame of a word to describe her. When the fortune teller on Tortuga had spoken of a sea witch, you had expected for someone that looked much like her, an old hag draped in rags with occult symbols and beads, perhaps missing several teeth and smelling like she hadn’t known a bar of soap her whole life. But you’re almost guilty that you thought about her that way, because this woman is completely different from what you expected.

Her lovely, slender figure is adorned in a sheer golden dress that brushes the sand behind her and flies with the wind like a bird in the sky, woven from a material that for some reason you recognise even though you’ve never seen it before. Sea silk, you realise in shock, a textile so valuable it is actually worth more than its weight in gold.

In stark contrast to her gown, her hair is a midnight black, flowing over her shoulders in waves and plunging down her back to her waist like a inky waterfall, the strands gently brushing soft, petal lips.

Then you meet her eyes.

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that statement holds true, then the woman before you must have an eternal one, because her eyes are a bottomless blue that remind you of the deepest, most mysterious depths of the ocean. There doesn’t seem to be an end to the infinite wisdom and grace of her, and when you look at her, face to face, she merely gives you a gentle smile.

When she moves, something abruptly slams into your mind that she isn’t a statue and is, in fact, a living, breathing human being. The smile she presents you with is bright enough to turn a man blind, and you feel as if your eyes have just been blessed by the mere sight of her. She opens her mouth to speak.

“Welcome, Choi Chin Hae.”

You don’t even realise you’re gaping at her until Hongjoong lifts one hand to shut your mouth, which closes with an audible clop. He doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by her, however, his sword still focused on the woman with an unwavering hand.

“I asked, who are you?”

The woman merely shows a teasing smile and quirks a brow at him playfully, as if she’s part of a little secret that he’s not included in.

“You would battle all manner of sea storms and sirens to reach this island, yet not know what you are searching for?” She shakes her head, as if disappointed. “Even if you have your suspicions on who I am, I know full well who you are, Kim Hongjoong.”

Every word she speak reverberates with power and now that you hear her voice for the second time, it sends shivers down your spine. You don’t know how to describe it, but her voice sounds like waves sweeping against the shore in the early morning light. You can feel a powerful pulse around her, a billion times more intense than your master’s, like invisible riptides in the air around her.

Your captain’s eye narrows. “You’re the sea witch?” You can hear the confusion in his voice and the woman nods, each simple action effortlessly graceful and elegant as a dancer.

“That is what most call me, yes.” She gazes towards you with those fathomless blue eyes. “But the name my mistress bestowed upon me is Eldoris.”

Eldoris. Even her name sounds beautiful.

“Well then, Lady Eldoris,” Hongjoong’s tone is carefully polite, but his grip on the sword is still tight. “Would you mind if you answered a few of our questions?”

Eldoris’ smile widens to show pearly white teeth. “I will answer all the questions you have for me to the best of my ability.”

There’s something tugging inside you that’s warning you that everything has been too easy up till now and your captain obviously feels it too, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Instead, he merely glances at you, encouraging you to move forward and ask what you want to know.

For a moment you just stand there as the two of them look at you expectantly. Even though up till this point your mind was overflowing with questions, now that you’re face to face with the prospect of getting real answers, your mind suddenly stutters to a stop, completely blank.

So much had happened. There is so much you want to know. Where are you to begin?

“First,” You start off with the simplest question you can think of, “What do you know about me?”

The sea witch tilts her head to the side as she searches your face intently, eyes skimming your features in a way that makes you a little uneasy.

“A month ago, you awoke in a prison cell in the town of Raguza wearing the coat of a Royal Navy officer.” She begins softly, her gaze holding yours captive as she lays out your story since awakening. “You were sentenced to death by hanging, but managed to escape when there was a raid on the town by the pirate band ATEEZ. You hid on the ship when it sailed away, and from there on became part of the crew.”

You know you’re supposed to be shocked by how she knows all of this, but you’ve been through a lot, from learning about the fact you’re actually a golem to how Seonghwa’s family actually were pirates. The novelty of having near unbelievable feats being dropped on you had kind of worn off after a while.

You swallow nervously as you begin to probe a little deeper. “Then do you know about what I am?”

At this she pauses, as if thinking about how to phrase her words very carefully in a way that would be the most accurate. The wind sweeps around her, tossing her dark hair into into the air as she answers your question. “I am aware that you are considered to be, in part, a golem of clay that has only existed for a moon.”

Your breath catches in your throat. It really is as the fortune teller had told you back on Tortuga. You had made a deal with the woman before you, a sea witch, to gain this body that you have.

As if sensing the turmoil within you, Hongjoong takes your hand in his gently, squeezing tight to let you know he’s still there.

His comfort gives you the courage you need to ask the question you need answered. You take a deep breath and finally spill what you’ve been intending to ask her this whole time.

“Did you… make me?”

There’s a long silence as the sea witch stands opposite you on the beach, her eyes filled with secrets as she meets your desperate gaze. Then she nods her head very slowly, as if this time she’s trying to be deliberately vague.

“I did make your body.” Eldoris speaks softly as she looks you over with an intense gaze. A chilling shiver wraps around your throat and dances down your spine, you feel as if someone has just walked right across your grave. She’s studying you like how a potter would study her work, her eyes tracing every inch of your body.

Hongjoong’s fingers tighten around yours.

You force down the unease and meet the sea witch in the eye the best you can.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘make my body’? The fortune teller I visited told me she had never seen a vessel crafted so beautifully.” You don’t mean to sound like you’re flattering yourself, but it is what she said, at least. You want to know how exactly you’re different from other golems, why the fortune teller had been able to tell you that you were unique in an instant.

Eldoris’ deep blue eyes narrow slightly. “I built your body from the clay found along the rocks worn away by the sea that have bathed in moonlight for aeons, before the mortals came into existence. With my own hands I crafted you, a feat unheard of by any other magician. To animate golems, a magic slip is placed in their mouths by their creators to represent the breath of life of the Creator. They then move, act upon their master’s wishes, but you see, Chin Hae… there’s one thing that sets you apart from all other golems.”

You find yourself unconsciously leaning forward, desperate to know what she has to say next. As far as you know, there is no slip of paper in your mouth. What makes you different?

“You have a heart.”

The very heart she’s speaking about stops in your chest for a second, as if aware that the witch before you is speaking about it. You remember the starry night on the beach, watching the clay of your fingers run with the tide until the mysterious man with eyes as green as the earth had plunged a knife into your chest, placing it inside.

A clay heart.

The moment the heart had been put in your body, clay had become skin and flesh, where there had once been nothing but earth, blood flowed through your veins. You felt the wind and water of the sea with your own fingers, felt air rush into your lungs with each breath you took. For the first time in your life, you felt a heartbeat thud in your chest.

But how?

How was that man able to turn mere clay into… this?

“Powerful magic.” Eldoris says, her voice drifting to you over the wind. You’re startled into shock when you realised she can read your mind with a single glance at your face. “Powerful, ancient magic that I could never even dream about.”

A hysterical snort escapes you. All this talk about arcane and magic and ancient beings is really starting to scare you, goosebumps crawling up your skin. “I suppose not all golems also have this friendly green eyed man to turn their clay into skin?” You shake your head at your own joke, but when the sea witch answers you, her voice is perfectly serious, solemn, even.

“No. Only you.”

You’re stunned with disbelief. What would this supposedly immensely powerful being want with a mere clay golem like you? Why would he bother giving you a heart? And why would he say that everything is going according to plan?

Are you… a pawn in some scheme of his?

But that feeling of desperately reaching out for him comes back to you. Even though you couldn’t recognise his face, part of you seems to remember him, you just know somehow that you trusted him with everything you were.

Then something strikes you as odd.

If golems were merely animated beings of clay, without conscience or heart, then how did you have memories even before the heart was put into your chest?

Your eyes fly wide open in shock all of a sudden.

“Eldoris…” You ask desperately, too anxious to bother addressing her respectfully. Something about it doesn’t feel right to you, anyway. “Before my body was created… was I someone else?”

Her expression doesn’t change in the slightest, but you can somehow see the genuine surprise that flashes across her face. Beside you, you can hear Hongjoong draw in a surprised breath.

“Chin Hae-”

“Yes.”

That one single word leaves her lips with so much surety, as if she needs you to understand that you were someone before this all. Shock shoots through your entire body. It’s not that you had no memories, on the other hand, your memories must have been erased somehow. You were someone.

Her eyes don’t leave yours, beseeching, as if willing you to know something that you don’t.

“Then do you know who I was, how I got into this body, why I have no memories?”

Suddenly, Eldoris’ eyes darken at your words. Her voice drops to something more grave, her tone almost warning, but you don’t realise it in your impatience to get the answers you’ve been waiting for since your awakening.

“I do.” She answers, but her words are grim.

Finally. Your identity and memories are finally in your reach now.

“Can you tell me?” You almost breath, desperate for your answers. You’re finally at the end of your journey now, you can finally discover who you once were and put an end to all of this agony within you.

Eldoris meets your anguished gaze with a calm one of her own, folding her hands elegantly before her and opening her mouth to speak once more.

The word that leaves her lips is unbelievably simple, yet more infinitely complex than you can comprehend.

“No.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #jongho #san #mingi #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years ago

Photo

For the first time an Argentine publication was specially invited to the United States to attend the concert, party and subsequent press conference of the group QUEEN. This compliment that corresponded to PELO, made it possible to see and hear the performances of the English band in New Orleans and Miami. We also got interviews with the group and its current producer. As a preview of all that material, we reproduce the review of the New Orleans concert witnessed by our special envoy.

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New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans with all its huge genesis of jazz and blues. With a history of mystique and art born on the banks of the Mississippi River. A city where the constructions and the european style (Franco-Spanish) coexist in eloquent contrast with the steel, cement and glass that constitute the visible face of this country. And this is where we come to listen to one of the most powerful English rock bands: Queen. It’s no coincidence. Their new album is called “Jazz” and New Orleans breathes it everywhere. This charming city that seems unreal, welcomed a group of journalists from various nations, invited especially by EMI to attend the concert, the party and subsequent press conference that Queen was going to give. New Orleans was the third date of the 32 concerts that the band was going to perform in 29 cities throughout the country. With overwhelming success in Europe, this tour marked Queen’s final coup in the United States. And they did, because the band is playing like never before, with much more rock and roll than when they started. This is what happened on stage.

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An hour before

The concert in New Orleans would take place in the Auditorium, an immense theatre belonging to the city with a capacity for 20,000 spectators. This was Queen’s third performance in the United States, having played two days earlier in the legendary Memphis (Tennessee). The show would start at eight o'clock in the evening, and an hour earlier we decided to go to the concert site to recognize the field. The Auditorium is located practically in the centre of the city, so the access to the place, and later exit, were done quickly and efficiently. The concert is barely an hour away and the people is waiting in front of the gate numbered one hundred. We approached to chat a little with the boys who wander around drinking soft drinks or the very light American beer. Almost everyone sees Queen for the first time and, not coincidentally, their number one band is Led Zeppelin. Everyone shows they know a lot about the band and gets excited when a colleague from Argentine television and his cameraman starts filming them with the camera.  When we retire, we observe the four enormous trucks that carried the stage that Queen uses in their shows. We return to the hotel where a special bus will take us to the stadium.

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The stage

The Auditorium of New Orleans is a large rectangular cement stadium. It has a plateaus tray that surrounds it completely. In the lower part no seats were placed, while upstairs it is easy to settle in the bleachers, where there are a lot of exits and corridors to the outside. People enter comfortably and quickly and there are few policemen, who act as ushers, indicating where to place themselves and how to avoid crowds. New Orleans has among its traditions the Mardi Gras (our carnival) so it is customary to attend disguised events. Thus four witches, a mummy, three wild animals, a princess, two Martians, and some more difficult to identify parade before our gazed eyes. Everything serves to color the party. The stage is about thirty meters in front and ten meters in deep. At the sides there are two platforms one meter high, just below the columns of reamplification. These hang from the ceiling of the stage in two groups of six. The stage is open, in the dark. You can only see a kind of grill of lights, hanging directly in front of the audience. In a few minutes the stadium fills up. The turnout is estimated at 18,000 people. All tickets were sold in advance, at the sole price of $8.50. There are no numbered locations and the ones that arrive are the ones that get the best location. There are no fights and everything runs smoothly. In the area without seats are located two huge consoles: to the right the computerized system of programmed lights. These are the stage lights, up and to the sides, and the ones that fall from behind in front of the stage. To the left is the console, with sound -one of them- and just like the previous one it doesn’t have no guards or barricades around it.

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Opening

It’s half past eight and with the stadium full, all the lights go out. The screaming is infernal and is only subdued by Queen’s music. The stage is illuminated when the huge console of 500 red, green and white lamps is lit alternately. As a dense column of smoke emerges from the floor, the console begins to rise backwards, finally forming the roof of the stage. The effect is achieved and makes the crowd shout even more. Music is the basis of rock and roll. Now we see the musicians. May on the left, Deacon on the right, Mercury on the right, and Taylor with his drums back to the center. On the right you can see the great grand piano that Mercury used several times. The battery is mounted on a three-storey platform with white light spots directed at the public. Above Taylor’s head hangs a huge gong also surrounded by lights, and to his right, a pair of timpanis. Mercury sings “We Will Rock You” in a revamped rock and roll version. The bass supports the tones with astonishing security and the rhythm invites movement.  Mercury sings like on records, the whole group sounds perfect in a clear, undistorted stereo. It moves with the grace of a contortionist or a classical dancer, always clinging to the microphone reed, a kind of cane that will be used in a thousand ways throughout the show.

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Berry and Hendrix

“Good night, New Orleans,” shouts Mercury and the audience responds enthusiastically. We still can’t react to such a flood of light and sound, when Mercury sits at the piano to attack. “Somebody To Love”, a beautiful gospel song that allows us to enjoy Queen’s best instrument: their voices. The band threshes the song safe, comfortable, and on the end Mercury plays a solo that stands the audience up. Almost without breathing we passed to one of the top albums in Queen’s career: “A Night At The Opera”. The opening, “Death On Two Legs,” is Brian May’s blunt and overwhelming guitar display. There are probably a dozen guitarists more skilled than him in rock, but very few have the ability, style and imagination that he possesses. His guitar is main part of Queen’s original sound, at times with a rancid and distorted hue and sometimes clear and classic. Almost without stopping they continue with “ Killer Queen”, one of the first successful songs in Buenos Aires. A combination of hard rock with Beatle style vocalizations. The main instrument in this song are the voices of Mercury, Taylor and May. This time the next song “I’m In Love With My Car” is hooked and starts with a heavy riff. Mercury’s voice transforms into Chuck Berry. May makes a very polished solo with a very Hendrix sound (he loves him) and Mercury stands next to him gesturing with the microphone as if he were an imaginary guitarist. At the end he sits at the piano and abruptly the song becomes “Get Down, Make Love”, a true monument to heavy rock. A dense, choppy riff, supported by the piano and the forcefulness of rhythm. Then the stage lights go out and the lights begin to turn on the audience. The lights run through the stage rack in a precise effect. May plays all sorts of effects with his guitar, accompanying Mercury’s vocal acrobatics. The drums explode and the riff repeats itself tirelessly. The next track is “You’re My Best Friend” a moment of tranquility for everyone with this song in the best style of the ‘60s.

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The new trick

We all need a break, but it’s very brief because Mercury announces that the next one is a John Deacon song, using a play on words. He sits at the piano and starts “ Spread Your Wings”, a typical American ballad, with a Mercury deeply inspired by Mc Cartney - isn’t that wonderful? The end is prolonged with the band to all orchestra and the surprise arrives. From the top of the stage, another stage begins to descend with a complete set of drums. The synchronization is perfect, and when the song ends the stage is already installed. The new stage fits perfectly with the platforms located on the sides, leaving the musicians one meter above the audience. May takes the guitar, Taylor sits on this new drum set that has the cover of “ News Of The World” on the drum. That’s how the acoustic set begins. It starts with a very raw, super rancid boogie. With this song we forget certain insecurities in Mercury’s voice, perhaps because of tiredness. Mercury clarifies that the next track was specially composed for New Orleans and will not be played on tour “Dreamers’s Ball”.The fake trumpet solo is a beautiful parody by Brian May. The audience is delirious and clapping. Everyone participates and the festive atmosphere is increasing. In front of the new stage a curtain of lights is formed that astonishes and gives rise to the jokes of the musicians. The acoustic end is in charge of May and Mercury. Alone, sitting in the middle of the new stage, they sing the beautiful ballad “ Love Of My Life ”. The audience is restless and doesn’t pay much attention to this number. In our country it would have had a sepulchral silence, but they see bands like this every week.

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Acrobatics and rock

“39” ends this singular set. A correctly played skiffle, where the vocal arrangements replace the bronzes. Everything is dark for a few seconds and when the spots are turned on, May is placed on the left platform and Mercury on the opposite one. They start with the riff of “It’s Late” and the stage rises again. At the right time it allows Deacon and Taylor to be seen on the original stage. May and Mercury descend and the song becomes more intense. Not surprisingly, our astonishment was overcome. Mercury and May constantly cross from one end of the stage to the other. This is democracy, no kid is left without seeing his idol up close. “Fat Bottom Girls’ is the single from Queen’s new album. A song with country airs and a title that… we leave it to the music writer. The beginning of the song is a vocal acrobatics of the four. A resounding display of their ability to sing, with those undulations of the chorus that we thought impossible to hear live. The song comes to life with May’s riff, perfectly marked by Taylor with a crushing tempo. They continue with “Sheer Heart Attack”, an accelerated rock and roll from the LP “ News Of The World”. May’s guitar becomes incisive, crackles and howls. There is one of the most fantastic rock guitarists. Halfway through the song, Mercury leaves the scene for an inspired May. Then a long improvisation begins. First a funky rock that slowly morphs into a total experiment. May uses the Echoplex and we discover that he admires Hendrix without itching. His guitar is multiplied, first by three and then by ten. The notes are scattered throughout the auditorium, filling it with mysticism. Listening to May pull out unimaginable sounds from his guitar, one understands the ‘why of the dispensing of synthesizers in Queen’s music. The guitar replaces the strings, the winds, and the keyboards, of course. Everything is done on the basis of a simple but effective polyphony. May obtains a diabolical combination of sounds between the attack of the strings, in high, with the finger prepared for the intervention of the harmonic, and the dose of saturation and maintenance (sustain). This orchestral concept of the guitar has references in two other great English guitarists: Steve Hackett and Robert Fripp.

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Grand Finale

The end of the song is the beginning of another brilliant rock:  “Keep Yourself Alive,” the opening song of the album “Queen I’. The end is by Taylor, who does some passages on the tom-toms and the timpani, with sound effects of glissando. Mercury leaves the center of the stage. Next to the piano an assistant is waiting for him who has helped him all night by holding him and reaching for the microphone. Freddie sits down and the first bars announce "Bohemian Rhapsody”. The screaming is hellish. Mercury’s piano playing is perfect.  May does a solo identical to the studio version, and I wonder how they’ll do the opera part… There’s the answer. The stage explodes with smoke and colour and the musicians disappear. The stars are now the lights. The immense, luminous ceiling that covers the stage makes all series of combinations and routes, always synchronized with the music. What my mind associates most quickly to describe what happens, are the images of the film “Close Encounters”.  But before leaving this hallucination, they magically appear for the rocker ending of “Rhapsody…”. The end explodes of light on the drummer’s stage, with a blinding effect, and Taylor hitting the giant gong, which he uses only in that song. The group disappears and the whole stadium stands up and asks for more. The classic lighters begin to light up in a sign of approval. Some red light bars also appear; similar to those in “Star Wars”, one can’t help but smile at such sophistication. Several minutes pass in which the public kicks the cement until it shakes. Then they return to the stage to play “Tie Your Mother Down”. We are all standing up and living the ceremony of rock.  The four of them have changed their clothes. May looks like a fairy with her long hair, her very long body that moves in the wide sleeves of his kimono.  Mercury is standing on the stage, dancing and gesticulating, until May joins him for his solo. Again the drum lights explode and the band disappears again. Nobody wants to leave, we think they won’t come back. Exactly two hours ago the concert started.  Yet they return and again a different outfit. They changed for the last two encores, a masterstroke… Taylor’s drums start with a super-heavy beat. It’s “We will rock you ” in its original version. Mercury only sings the first few stanzas, leaving the chorus for the crowd.  Everyone responds, and this chorus of thousands of throats singing in time moves us to a shiver. May and Deacon have already embarked on the final phrasing, located on the left side of the stage. Suddenly, on the opposite side, a spotlight  finds Mercury and starts “We Are The Champions”. Once again,  you see the crowd supporting the melodious chorus. A great ending.  The four musicians step forward and bow. With the stage empty, covered with smoke, the lights are lowered again, while the recording of the closing track “A Night at the Opera (God Save The Queen)” is played.  No one leaves, everyone howls frantically. But Queen won’t be back. Some take comfort in running to buy their T-shirts and badges of the group, which are only sold at concerts.

Article by “Pelo” Magazine, November 1978

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @foxmonkey, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian

#Queen #New Orleans #Jazz #🎹🎸🎤🎵👑💖#Original Material

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achaoticeternal · 5 years ago

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A Dance. A Chase. A Purpose.

RANSOM DRYSDALE X READER masterlist // taglist

request from anon: 35. "sit your ass back down and talk to me" with Ransom Thrombey pretty please??😍

Summary: Ransom never has been one to chase a gall, but you’ve always been different. Word Count: 3.4k A/N: This is a reader and Ransom at a very formal gala. The Thrombey’s and Drysdale’s are “high class” people, they attend these kinds of things but I haven’t seen anyone write something like this! I hope you guys really enjoy it! This is also a lot of dialogue... whoops Warnings: Light swearing, people flirting with the reader, Ransom being an asshole but not a complete asshole

ANOTHER REAL QUICK NOTE: I WROTE ABOUT RANSOM IN A MAROON VELVET SUITE BEFORE THE GOLDEN GLOBES HAPPENED AND CHRIS JUST HAPPENED TO WEAR THAT EXACT OUTFIT TO THE GOLDEN GLOBES AND ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT THE UNIVERSE CAME THROUGH

His blue eyes continuously stalked you throughout the hours you attended the Gala. It wasn’t his scene and yet he adored the thought of ruining your perfect evening just with his presence.

“Who put Ransom on the guest list?” You hissed at one of the event coordinators, “Don’t you remember what he did at the art show I hosted last year?”

“I’m terribly sorry Miss, but he’s the plus one for Mr. Thrombey,” the hesitant man replied, looking awfully terrified.

You took multiple deep breathes to soothe yourself and stop yourself from becoming flustered. Ransom has this awful hold on you that everyone could not, and you could absolutely not stand. He knew just how to stir you, be that good or bad, and absolutely ruin what should be paradise. He truly was the devil in a maroon velvet suit that was perfectly tailored to him.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry for flashing, thank you for all your assistance tonight,” You smiled kindly to the man before scurrying off to find something to occupy yourself before Ransom had a chance.

Tonight, all you wanted to do was raise funds to assist the homeless shelters in major U.S cities and inspire a few billionaires and millionaires to hand over a hefty check. But you had to play a little game to get money from the elite class. You made your way all around the ballroom in the designer gown; it was black and floor-length, layer upon layer of fine black lace. Across the skirt was intricate gold stars sewn into the material as an illusion collar and mesh sleeves complimented your top. Your appearance mixed with your charm could allure both men and women into acquiring whatever you desired. You knew that inevitably somehow you would run into Ransom since Harlan was a huge donor to your foundation.

“Oh, (Y/N),” It seemed you’d be seeing him sooner than you thought as Mr. Thrombey waved you over. Gracefully, you turned to see him and other authors you’d invited enjoying their wine and making various comments about the younger people attending the gala. Harlan motioned at an empty seat, “my dear.”

“Alright, but I can’t stay long. Apparently, I’m the only one left with their head screw on right this evening,” You smiled as the older group chuckled.

“You’ve always been a prize, (Y/N). Standing out in school, in your community, and now your foundation. Your grandparents would be proud,” Margret, a theatre critic, complimented you.

Her words were almost reassuring. Your grandparents had left their company and their estate to you, their only granddaughter. The rest of the family received their fair cut of shares and money, but your grandparents believed that you had the best potential in ruining their media empire.

But you felt all joy leave your body as a large pair of hands rested themselves upon your shoulder, squeezing them just tight enough to create a numbing sensation, “Yes, and she also always was quite the star in high school and even university. Our professor often gawked at how well-knowledged she is, and even her charm.”

You rested your right hand on top of Ransom’s, peeling it off and letting it drop to his side, “Well, Ransom, it’s wonderful for you to join us at the Charity Gala tonight. I hope everything is just as proper and tasteful to your liking.”

“Well, it’s a nice little set-up you have, but I’ve always been a man to enjoy a good party with plenty to drink and-”

“Hugh,” Mr. Thrombey warned his grandson.

Ransom gave her grandfather a childish glare before sighing, “But it’s still just so lovely, (Y/N).”

“This has just been so grand,” You stood and brushed out any wrinkles in the skirt of your dress, “but I must go meet with the city’s mayor to talk about the proceeds from this evening before they reach a politician's hands. Please feel free to check out our silent auction tables, there are some wonderful prizes to be won. And once we announce the winners, we will have a large auction while dinner is served in the banquet hall at 8.”

With pep in your step, you quickly made your own way to the banquet hall to make sure everything was going swimmingly.

- - -

“Yes, and up there on the platform, the seats will go the mayor’s wife, the mayor, the governor, myself, the senator, his wife, and then his son,” you pointed down the long table. Then you turned to look out over a sea of tables, chairs, and name cards, “And the menu is set for this evening?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything is under control, tidy, and might I say, luxurious, thanks to you,” your proceeds manager, Pierce, complimented you.

“You’re too kind,” you slapped his arm lightly, “now, guests my enter around 7:30 or whenever the staff finishes setting our the glasses and rolls.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” you heard your name called by a silver tongue serpent who managed to sneak into the banquet hall early. As he sauntered over to you, Pierce noticed how to seemed to deflate slightly in the man’s presence.

“Miss, I’m so sorry, I’ll go tell security too-”

“It’s fine, Pierce. Hugh is an... acquaintance that I’ve known for years.”

“That’s a strange way of putting childhood enemy,” Ransom teased as he took a sip out of his champagne glass, “or childhood crush depends on how you view it.”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget. Pierce,” you gave him a look to dismiss him as you turned to look pointedly at Ransom, “what are you doing here now? The schedule is clear and I don’t understand why you can’t just fo-”

“You know schedules and timetables aren’t my forte, honey,” he cut you off, which he knew made your blood boil, “but I wanted to address a little rumor I heard? Apparently, at the banquet auction- you are going to be a prize.”

“I’m not a prize, I’m a respected woman,” you sneered, “and my marketing and social managers decided it would help the cause if we auctioned off a dance with one of the most powerful and eligible bachelorette's in New York.”

“Well then,” His eyes scanned across your face but going lower. You snapped your fingers in front of his face to snap him out of whatever the hell he was trying to do, “I guess I’ll be able to show you what a fantastic dancer I am tonight when I win.”

“In your dreams, Ransom,” You said with a smile as you heard the doors open and a crowd begin the flutter in, “Now please if you would so kindly take your seat able table 6.”

- - -

“Thank you so much for attending tonight’s charity gala,” You smiled warmly as you spoke into the microphone. Much applause followed, “This evening’s event couldn’t have happened without help from so many people within the community and all of you here tonight. I have a lot of people to thank tonight, but first I would like to thank the wonderful orchestra for providing such wonderful music.”

You gestured to the group seated on the right side of the banquet hall as they took their bows. You allowed for the chatter to calm before continuing your speech to thank the hotel and its’ management, the catering, your parents and siblings, your personal assistant, “and lastly I have three very important men and their families in attendance tonight. The Mayor of New York City, The Governor, and even Senator Holstead.” Each of the men stood, waved to the crowd, and were applauded, “And now, I would like to invite the Senator’s eldest son, MR. Wyatt Holstead to join me in announcing the winner’s for tonight’s silent auction and then we will proceed to bidding on specialty items.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. (Y/L/N). Isn’t she just fantastic?” Wyatt smiled at the audience as he made his way up to you with his own mic. He stood next to you and took your hand, “It is an absolute honor to be assisting you tonight and a help you raise funds to solve homelessness in this beautiful city, once and for all. But being in your striking beauty might be the cherry on top.”

You giggled as he raised your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles softly. However, you could feel the tension across to the room as you made eye contact with Ransom, who was clapping with a less than excited look upon his face, “Why thank you. Now, Wyatt will be drawing and announcing the names of the winners while I present you will the item of auction. So- let’s begin.”

You forgot about Ransom and his predatory gaze as you awarded baskets and various items to strangers and friends that won them. The flashes of cameras and shaking of hands stirred your brain until Wyatt ended the silent auction.

“Congratulations to the winners! Checks can be dropped off this evening or mailed to the donation center within the next three days. But now, we move onto our live auction where we have some stellar items and events up for sale tonight!”

“You’re right, Wyatt. This first item up to bid tonight is a trip to the beaches of Italy on an all-expenses-paid vacation! Let’s start the bidding at $500, shall we?”

Immediately, hands and ladies’ fans flew up in the air. It was amazing how fast items were going and how quickly the evening was flying by.

“Going twice... Sold! The fountain pen collection goes to Mrs. Margret Dunwoody!” Wyatt called. There was applause as she grabbed her prize, “And now, for the final auction before any real partying or dancing begins, we have a real treat. One lucky person will be able to share the first dance and be treated to breakfast with our own, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! Now, this is quite the prize so let’s start the bidding at... two thousand?”

The hands’ of New York’s finest bachelors and bachelorettes shot up high.

‘$2,500″

“$3,500″

“$4,000!”

“$5,000!”

“$25,000,” One loud voice called from the center of the room. Ransom had stood, a smirk plastered to his face as his blue eyes met your own.

“$30,0-” Another man tried to yell out.

“$50,000,” Ransom called on top of him, “Anyone else?”

“Well then,” Wyatt said, looking to you and winking, “$60,000.”

“$75,000,” Ransom called back with ease.

“$85,000,” Wyatt retorted.

You began to become nervous. It would be awkward to watch Ransom’s and Wyatt’s little showdown, but you were the prize which made the experience only that much unsettling, “Boys, boys, you’re both pretty.”

“Going once...” You looked at Ransom only to be pondering something, “Going twice...” you started to pray that anyone else would bid, Wyatt was still in college and you didn’t need your record destroyed by a horny boy...

“$150,000!”

The banquet hall went completely silent, no one said a thing. You could here pen drop in the room with how deafening it was.

“Sold to Mr. Ransom Drysdale!” The Mayor called out from his seat, sensing the tension, “Now if Mr. Drysdale will make his way up to the platform to escort his prize to the dance floor.”

Ransom held a bit of swagger in his stride as he approached you. The shock was still evident in your stature as you tried to smile. People applauded and the band began to play again.

“My dear,” Ransom held his hand out for you, making sure to make this look a publicly decent as he could. You took his hand and he leads you down the stairs of the platform. Once you were on his level, he placed a hand upon your lower back and guided you towards the dance floor.

The band began to play a slow number that had the slightest touch of an upbeat. Ransom was surprisingly a great dance partner and easily guided you around the floor which captured the eyes of all in the banquet hall.

“You know, you’re not half bad at dancing,” you attempted to compliment him.

“I guess private school pays off a bit, but I’d still prefer dancing under your sheets,” he said in a sultry tone into your ear.

“Dammit, Ransom. I’m trying to enjoy my evening because you’ll be there to ruin my morning,” he spun you twice before pulling you into his chest again, “why did you even place a bid? You hate donating to charity, unless by force, and you know I can’t stand you.”

“Well, you know I love getting under your skin and I think the other bidder doesn’t have the same experience as I do,” He beamed, “in any category.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“But you can’t help but love me,” his lips dragged across your cheek.

The music faded out and a DJ began playing today’s hits. With all the formalities taken care of, this was no longer was your scene, “Well, good night, Ransom. I’ll see you in the morning and you can tell me about whatever girl you hooked up with, in the morning.”

With that, you escaped up to your suite in the hotel, hoping not to interact with anyone for the rest of the evening.

- - -

It was a few hours later now and you were still wide awake, relaxing in the living area of your suite as Brooklyn Nine-Nine played on the television. You had already showered and your hair was almost finished air drying, but you still wore the hotel robe. It was peaceful and allowed you to digest the events from the evening. But a knock on the door alerted you of an unexpected guest.

“Who is it?”

“Room service, ma’am,” You opened the door to reveal a young man with a cart, “Gifts from the hotel managers and a special man who wanted to thank you for this evening.”

“Oh well, thank you, just cart it in wherever you like,” You nodded and let him through. He quickly took care of his job before exiting, “good night.”

You grabbed the first card on the cart, a little formal thank you note from the hotel for a smooth event and the wonderful publicity. There was a second one with no name, but you figured it was one of the politicians you invited this evening.

You looked like the night sky, but you shined brighter than any star.

Shaking your head, you let out a small giggle at the little note like you were a school girl again. Even if there was a bump or two in the evening, it all still went practically perfect. But a second knock came from the door.

“If it’s another cart, I’m afraid I’m out of room in here,” You teased, only to open the door to reveal Ransom.

“Well, were the flowers not enough? I didn’t know my prize would still be so hard to please, even after I swept her off her feet on the dance floor.” Here he was, smirk and all. Instead of his usual behavior of prowling a dance floor for a girl to satisfy him for the night, he was here, satisfying his need to tease you.

“Ransom, I-uh... Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” You pulled the robe close to your body like it could shield you from anything he could say or do to you.

“Well, my date left me on the floor-”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s late, and I’m not a prize to be won, and you-”

“(Y/N),” He looked you in the eyes with his own blue ones that could make any woman melt and suddenly you understood why he came upstairs, “Can I come in, please?”

“I- maybe not tonight...”

“Please”

You took a deep breath before opening the door to allow him in, “Okay, but I do plan to go to bed before long.”

He walked in and immediately got a beer out of the hotel fridge before taking a seat on the couch. You grabbed yourself a bottle of water before joining him on the couch.

“So, were you trying to get away from your grandfather? or an ex?”

“No, I figured it was time we talk. And I mean actually talk. Not argue or bicker like we do in front of everyone else.”

“I don’t remember a time where we didn’t, so...”

“Maybe because you never give me the chance to talk-”

“Well, maybe that’s because every time I’ve tried to open up to you or trust you, you just cut me off...”

“Maybe that’s because you keep trying to meddle in my life like my family does!”

“I’m not doing this tonight! Not after everything I accomplished, I’ll see you in the morning,” you pushed yourself off the couch and attempted to make your way into the bedroom.

“No, (Y/N), I-” He let out a sigh and shook his head, “sit your ass back down and talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ransom!”

“There is everything to talk about”

IT hit you like a brick. He wanted to talk it out because after all this time he still wanted you. He wanted back sneaking into each other’s dorms. Pretending to hate each other, but sneaking kisses behind friends and family. You were the only person to ever deny him from what he needed. You were the girl to leave him on the floor. The same way you had left him on the floor homecoming your junior year, semi-formal your senior year of college, and various club outings. And now tonight in front of the public. You had always been the only girl to leave him alone and the only girl to walk out on him first. And after all this time, he still chased after you, because you were consistent.

“Dammit, (Y/N). Why do you act like this? We have history, but you insist on acting like it never happened or that it was all bad.”

“Ransom, you know why we both called it all off...”

“Because you were inheriting a large media network? You could risk doing ONE thing that your mother didn’t approve of. I know why, but I’ll never understand-”

“Because you made me reckless and I couldn’t let my life slip through my fingers while I lived a perfectly pleasurable life off of daddy’s money. I need purpose and you never gave me one.”

“But you gave me purpose. And tonight, you looked like a night sky, shining bright with a thousand stars and reminded me of those nights where we laid under the starry sky and you let me spoil you. You helped me deal with the abomination that is my family, you were helping me learn to be a better person.” He took your hands into his own large ones and rested his forehead against yours, “I was going to propose and we were going to find a purpose together.”

“Fuck, Ransom,” The tears slid down your cheeks, but he caught them with his thumbs, “Why do we have to do this now? I was just starting to truly move on. Why can’t you let the idea of us go?”

“Because it’s the only good idea I’ve ever had. Please, (Y/N), I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. In all the time that Ransom and you had spent together - teasing each other or flirting or otherwise - he had never said that he loved you. You never even heard him tell his parents he loved them. He truly wanted you.

“I- We... We can try again. But it’ll be slow and it will take time to heal what we burned, but if you’re willing than I am too.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours.

- - -

The next afternoon, images of you and Ransom having brunch and holding hands while wandering around New York were splattered across media and magazine sites alike. People and reporters asked about the charity event the night before, what this relationship meant for your company, and even asking if you both were finally coming public with your relationship after months of hiding it.

A young reporter caught Ransom and asked it you satisfied his desires, targeting Ransom’s playboy bachelor status.

“I think you should be asking (Y/N) how much she raised for the homeless and those living off in a single evening instead of objectifying her. She’s the most powerful and influential woman in the nation and desrves more respect than that. Go report her record-breaking funding to your Editor, instead of a dumbass’s opinion on if she makes a good shag or not, sweetie.”

Once you made it into his car and made your way to Boston, you turned to him, “Thank you, for everything you said.”

“Of course, it was all honest and true. But I was never gonna tell them how wonderful you feel beneath me.”

“Ransom-”

“Oh c’mon, you love me”

#mattie writes #ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #chris evans #cevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x y/n #knives out

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mittelfrank-divas · 4 years ago

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Dance of the Black Heron chapter 2

The next chapter of my Dancer Hubert fic! In which the other Black Eagles have opinions on this situation.

This fic is now up on AO3 for those who prefer reading there!

===

"I think it's a fine idea." Edelgard rounded one of the long tables in the Black Eagles classroom, carrying a stack of tactics textbooks. It was quickly growing dark outside, and every other student had long ago vacated the classrooms, but the pair of them were often found here at this hour by the flickering light of the candles and the dwindling embers of the fireplace.

At first, tidying the classroom had been an easy excuse for them to meet at night without suspicion. It was a perfectly appropriate activity for the head of the class and her attendant to engage in regularly outside of normal class hours, with obvious evidence of their work that they could point to the next morning if anybody asked where they had been.

Now, although better awareness of the guard rotations and lesser-used passages gave them plenty of other ways to slip out after dark, habit still found them here day after day. Hubert could not help but notice the pride that Edelgard took in maintaining the Black Eagles classroom, making sure the chairs were straightened and every student had their required materials ready in the morning. It did not matter that their classmates could easily retrieve their books and quills themselves, or that the room would be equally serviceable if the chairs were left slightly askew or that the floor could endure going unswept for a few days. Edelgard wanted the classroom to be perfect for her Eagles, and so Hubert was all too happy to assist her in that.

He automatically held out his arms for her to deposit the books into and began distributing them before each chair on one side of the room while Edelgard began passing out her own stack on the other side. He scowled down at the books in his arms as he sought out the one with the broken binding, which he always deliberately placed in front of Ferdinand's chair. "I did not expect you to share in our professor's folly."

"I see no folly in it." Edelgard was not quite so deliberate in her distribution, placing each of her own books without checking its state. Hubert doubted that any of the other Black Eagles noticed that the left side of the classroom always received the same books each day (the nicest one went to Bernadetta and their state of decay decreased down to Ferdinand's) while the right side was randomized, with each equally likely to receive the one wrinkled with water stains on one corner. Her egalitarian approach meant she always finished sooner than Hubert, and so she was first to move behind the professor's desk to retrieve the quills and ink pots. "I know you know how to dance, Hubert. I have seen you do it many times."

"Respectfully," Hubert grumbled, "our little bedroom waltzes hardly compare to a competition that will determine the composition of our class. You have seen me run before, but you would not ask me to participate in a marathon."

"Nonsense." Edelgard turned to him, a pot of ink in each hand. "That comparison would only be suitable if I had watched you outrun the entirety of our class. You are good at dancing. You have proper stance, you keep time well..."

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert set his final book down and met her eyes directly. "Did you convince the professor to choose me?"

Edelgard's pale eyebrows rose. "You are cross with me. No, I did not. I merely advised them that you would be a good choice. They were already considering you."

"I am not cross with you, I am…" Hubert sighed, and slouched down to rest his gloved hands on the table. "Alright. I am cross. I wish you'd consulted with me before agreeing to this."

Edelgard never cowered from anger -- his, or any other's. It was one of the many traits that made him admire her. Her pale lavender eyes met his fully. "I apologize. I thought it best if you heard directly from our professor first. It is not as though they can force the decision upon you, after all, can they?"

"No," Hubert admitted with a sigh, finally moving to retrieve the quills and ink alongside her. "They merely trapped me in my own logic. Forced me to admit that I can see no better option."

"Well?" She flicked her white hair back out of her eyes as she shot him a sidelong glance. "Is your logic flawed? Is there any other who we should choose instead?"

Hubert had been asking himself that very question since the moment he exited the professor's room. Dare he give up their only cavalry unit? Their only assassin? Could he ignore his own predictions that Linhardt would shirk whatever responsibility the role would demand of him? "I am beginning to question whether we require a Dancer in our ranks at all."

"Well then, I am certain that Claude von Riegan will make good use of it," Edelgard said crisply as she laid out quills.

Claude von Riegan. Claude von Riegan with somebody under his command who could effectively double the speed of any attacking unit. Hubert could already imagine a number of scenarios that Claude could manifest with such power in his hands, but worse were the ones that he could not imagine.

"Your attempts to bait me are rather transparent, I'm afraid." Even as he said it, Hubert attempted to shrug off the vision of the future Alliance leader darting out of their peripherals, bow at ready.

"A pity," Edelgard sighed, moving toward the professor's desk. She always made a point of organizing their notoriously scatterbrained teacher's class materials at the end of the day. "I had hoped I was being subtle. Transparent though I may be, however, do tell me if my plan has worked."

Hubert prided himself on his schemes, on his ability to out-think his opponents. Unfortunately, the fact that he had honed his skill by practicing with his closest friend meant that same friend knew him all too well, and easily turned those same skills back on him. "Of course it has," he conceded, and moved to stand in front of the professor's desk while Edelgard sat down in the chair across from him. "You know I cannot bear the thought of giving such a calculating opponent an edge such as this. Well spotted as ever, Lady Edelgard."

She pulled a stack of Byleth's disorganized notes to herself, a small smile creeping onto her face at her victory. Under normal circumstances, Hubert lived to see that smile soften her carefully-managed features. In this case, it was difficult to take joy in one more sign that his doom was sealed. Nevertheless, she nodded at him. "Alright, then. If our only goal is simply to keep the Dancer class out of anyone else's hands, the solution is simple. We send someone else to compete in the White Heron Cup, but we will not make use of the certification once we have it."

Hubert crossed his arms, considering her suggestion. It was an easy way out. They could send Dorothea or even Ferdinand to compete without interfering with their long-term plans. Edelgard was showing him a kindness by offering an alternative. The fact that he recognized it for a kindness made loathing for himself churn in the pit of his stomach. For her to settle on a lesser choice simply for his sake was intolerable. "An elegant solution, but a wasteful one. I doubt you would be satisfied with such a plan."

Edelgard sighed. "Of course I wouldn't be. I think a Dancer would be of great benefit to us, and I think you would be an ideal choice."

Hubert shook his head, leaning down to press both hands against the front of the desk. "I simply fail to understand why."

"It is just as you and the professor said. The Dancer must be able to anticipate the movements of the battlefield and turn it to their advantage. When I am at the front of the line, I want someone who knows my tactics and my plans, who can predict exactly what choices I will make, to be at my back setting the stage. It's true that anyone in our class could do the job adequately, but only you could use such a position to seamlessly carry out my plans." Edelgard leaned across the desk, her hand closing around Hubert's wrist, her pale eyes meeting his fiercely. "I would never order you down a path that you found intolerable, Hubert. If this is truly unbearable for you, then we will find another solution. I just wish you could see how much I think you would shine in such a role."

She truly had so much faith in him. Not just to be a Dancer, but to be her Dancer. Someone who could help her achieve her lofty goals. Maybe, if he actually could succeed in winning the certification…

Hubert's hand went to his head, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. "This is foolishness. It is not a test of skill, but of charm. You know that I could manage to hit every step perfectly and the judges will still favor whoever has the most attractive smile."

Edelgard's eyes glinted confidently. "And is that such a bad thing? You know as well as I that charm is a matter of manipulating perceptions." She leaned forward, using her grip on Hubert's arm to pull herself across the desk. At her height, Edelgard practically had to lay across the expanse of the wood surface to lean close to him, but she somehow managed it. "Hubert," she said lowly so none passing by the open door could hear, "when we constructed the Flame Emperor together, remember what you said? That we must create an image that strikes awe into the hearts of all who see him. It will not be you dancing out there. It will be the image we create for you. So let us create that image. Will you permit that?"

An image. A persona, like the Flame Emperor. Hubert could not imagine himself standing before the entire school, hoping to convince them of his appeal with a charisma he did not possess. But thinking of it as simply another mask…

His other hand closed over hers. "If you are behind me, I can try."

***

The evening was still early when he found his way to the ground-level dorms. Light glowed warmly from the open doors and windows of the cafeteria, chatter and laughter filtering down the stone staircase. It was a crisp fall evening, not yet cold enough to keep the students from lingering around the fishing pond or drifting slowly toward their dorms while carrying on their dinner conversations, trying to delay the night of studying ahead. It would not be, therefore, considered terribly untoward for Hubert to be standing outside of Dorothea's chambers at this time. He took a moment to steel himself before knocking sharply on her door.

He highly doubted that he was remotely within the sphere of people who Dorothea hoped would be standing on the other side of her door, yet her smile was dazzling anyway. The songstress knew how to perform even in the most mundane of venues. "Hubie! It's not like you to make social calls. Are you here to scold me for forgetting to use Edie's title again? Or is this about that saucy joke I made yesterday? Was that too much for her delicate royal ears to hear?"

Hubert stifled a sigh, already regretting this conversation. Dorothea's personality was entirely too much for him to face directly like this. Her irreverence around Lady Edelgard had been a point of contention in their first few weeks at the academy, but Edelgard herself enjoyed Dorothea's brash attitude and had told him to let it go. Truth be told, Hubert also took a certain amount of pleasure in watching a commoner breezily ignore social mores the way that Dorothea did, pointedly affixing his fellow nobles with all-too-personal nicknames rather than a deferential title. But it was a spectacle that he preferred to appreciate at a distance, without the full force of the songstress's energy and wit directed at him.

"Nothing so serious as that, I assure you." Hubert stiffly folded his hands behind his back, sifting through his mental notes to recall exactly how he had rehearsed this conversation. Unfortunately Dorothea's chaotic nature had already derailed his plans, leaving him to leaf frantically through his script to work out what to say next. The sound of laughter echoing across the square made him uncomfortably aware of the other students and monastery residents moving around behind him. "I thought perhaps that you should hear it first. The professor has chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

He saw her smile falter a bit, and knew that she was doing the math. If Byleth had chosen her, then surely Byleth would be the one to deliver the news. Still, her voice remained as bright as ever. "Really? That's great news! Who is it?"

Hubert could not stand to look at that fading smile anymore, and his eyes found a particularly fascinating crack in the wall by her door. "You should know that this was not at all an easy choice. It was less a matter of who could succeed in the competition than of who we could afford to remove from another role. The composition of our class is..."

"Hubie," all warmth had drained from her voice now, replaced with a dangerous edge. "If you've come all this way just to soothe my feelings over Ferdie being chosen over me, you can just get it over with."

The very suggestion that Hubert would ever choose Ferdinand von Aegir shocked him into looking at her again. "We need Ferdinand on his horse, loathe as I am to admit that. Just as we need you continuing to study both Reason and Faith, a combination that we otherwise lack." He shifted awkwardly, resisting the urge to either fidget or flee. "I have been over the class roster many times, and unfortunately I see no other way around it. The professor is of the opinion that the only one who can be spared for this role is myself."

A single laugh burst out of Dorothea's mouth before she covered it with both hands. "Oh Hubie! Oh I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's just unexpected."

"I am quite aware of how unexpected it is," Hubert muttered, once again taking tremendous interest in the details of the wall beside her. "Which is precisely why I must request your assistance. There can be no doubt that you are our most gifted dancer. Moreover, you have experience with performing before an audience. I wish to ask for your help in preparing for this competition."

Dorothea stared up at him, cautious skepticism on her face. She did not trust nobles, and he shared in her loathing. Hubert himself nearly forgot sometimes that he would be considered one of them in her eyes. Dorothea may have acted cheerful around her classmates, but Hubert had seen the way she sometimes seemed to be bracing for them to turn on her. She looked like she was bracing for that now. "I'm sorry, did you say you need my help? You, Hubie, need my help."

"That is what I said, yes."

Dorothea snorted. "I'm surprised you aren't asking Ferdie, since he seems so very convinced of his superiority in every realm, including dance."

"I do not entertain that one's foolish ramblings." Hubert smirked as he said it, and was pleased that a smile crept back onto Dorothea's own face. She made clear her feelings on Ferdinand -- loudly, and as often as possible -- and it seemed that he won an ally in her on this front. "As much as it pains me to admit my own failings, I know that you are much more practiced in this arena than myself. If you are willing to assist me in this, I would be grateful."

She granted him that warm smile that she shared so freely with her classmates. "Well with a request like that, how can I refuse? Alright, Hubie. How about we meet on the training grounds tonight?"

Hubert felt his heart rate spike just at the thought of being caught practicing in such a public area. The training grounds were less crowded in the evenings, but there were many students who remained there even late into the night. There would be no hope of privacy in such a place. "Actually, I have somewhere more private in mind, if you'll allow. I'll meet you here at your room after class tomorrow and show you the way."

Her smile twisted itself into a sly grin. "Why Hubie, if you wanted to get me alone, a simple dinner invitation would have sufficed."

Now he did sigh. Truly, she was relentless. "I assure you, I have no such intentions. But if this is your way of requesting an exchange for your services, I will see what I can do about a meal."

"No fun at all," Dorothea sighed back, though he could see that she was still teasing him rather than truly disappointed. "Forget it, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dorothea closed the door, leaving Hubert standing awkwardly outside. He had the rest of the night ahead of him to fret over what awaited him at Dorothea's lessons.

***

Hubert had never before dreaded class. In fact, against all reason, he even sometimes enjoyed it.

That had been an unexpected development. That Hubert would accompany Edelgard to Garreg Mach, the very seat of the Church of Seiros, that he would attend classes alongside the frivolous sons and daughters of nobility, that he would sit in front of some church-approved professor and listen to their tiresome lectures… and he would not hate it. Sometimes he even learned something. Sometimes he even forgot that he was here under false pretenses, that he was only pretending to be a student in order to further Edelgard's aims.

But class had never before felt like such a trap. Never had he so cursed Edelgard's preference for sitting in the very front row, as well as his own decision to accompany her there. Hubert felt that every single pair of eyes in the room must have been on the back of his head. Surely such a thought was irrational, since only Edelgard and Dorothea yet had reason to suspect his distraction when he failed to turn his tactics textbook to the correct page.

Worse, their distractible professor left Hubert to suffer in silence through the entire lecture, carrying on as though his humiliation was not imminent. It was only when Byleth was about to dismiss them for lunch, threatening to draw out the torture even further, that Edelgard came to his rescue. "Professor, I believe you had intended to make an announcement."

Byleth paused, blinking at Edelgard in that dreamy way they always did when they forgot vital information, such as their own plans. "Oh, yes. We've chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

A general murmur of excitement rippled through the classroom. Hubert pointedly closed his book and began organizing his things, trying very hard to ignore the chatter behind him.

"You were wanting to be choosing, weren't you Ferdinand?"

"I assure you, I know nothing about the professor's choice. If they have selected me, this is the first I am hearing of it."

"It's not me, right? You wouldn't pick me just to make fun of me, would you? Oh no! You have, haven't you? Aaaaaaah I don't want to do iiiiiiiiit!"

"Finally!" Caspar's voice rang out over Bernadetta's cries. "Who'd you pick, professor? We've got so many good dancers here, I bet we'll win no matter what!"

Byleth did not waste time on drawing out the suspense with theatrics. "I've chosen Hubert."

The din faded to uneasy silence. Of all the times that Edelgard had urged the Black Eagles to learn the art of being quiet, somehow this was the moment in which the lesson finally took.

"I don't think he's a bad choice at all." Dorothea jumped in to helpfully damn Hubert with faint praise.

"Indeed, if the strategy is to frighten the judges into choosing our house, you could not ask for a better candidate." Linhardt, naturally, chose to wake up from his nap exclusively for the purpose of contributing this jab.

Having run out of anything left to do with his own class materials, Hubert moved on to straightening Edelgard's notes for her. Might as well let his classmates get this out of their system so they could hopefully never speak of this again.

"Hubert's not going to assassinate the judges, is he? Noooo I can't be an accessory to murder!"

"Bernie, nobody's going to assassinate anyone."

"Is this being a contest of violence? I thought it was of dance."

"No, there's no violence. Bernie's just being dramatic."

"Imagine if it was though? Like what if we had to fistfight Alois to win? That would be awesome!"

"But I don't want to fistfight Alois!"

"Bernie, absolutely nobody is asking you to fistfight Alois."

"Well I trust in our professor's decisions." A single voice boomed above all the others. Caspar may have existed in a perpetual state of yelling, but Ferdinand von Aegir projected his voice at all times as though he was in the midst of orating to a crowd. "I am certain that they have good reason to choose Hubert to represent the Black Eagles house, and we should be proud to support him. Why, regardless of whether or not he's had training, with a few weeks, he should--"

"I have, actually." Hubert was already out of his chair and turning to face Ferdinand before his nerves had a chance to catch up with him. The ginger with his all-too-bright smile was staring at Hubert, startled at being interrupted mid-speech. "Which is something you might already know if you ever deigned to dance with those you consider beneath your status, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand's mouth hung agape, his ears turning a satisfying shade of scarlet. "What is that supposed to--"

"Alright!" Edelgard stood, inserting herself between them as she stepped into the center of the classroom. "Honestly, is this any way to behave before a competition? We are supposed to present a united front before the other houses. I expect all of you to give Hubert your full support, just as you would any one of us."

Hubert made a point of avoiding any further eye contact as he exited the classroom. With resounding support such as this from his own class, did he even need rivals to compete with? Perhaps they might send one of Bernadetta's plush toys to compete and save him the trouble.

#hubert von vestra #edelgard von hresvelg #black eagles #fanfic #dance of the black heron

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago

Text

Resurrection | 10

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Nothing much really. A/N: The one you’ve all been waiting for! 😈

As the unofficial dad of the team, none of us are surprised when Rick floats the tab not only for dinner, but for the strip club afterwards.

“You gonna give us money for working girls too, pops?” Dom jokes as he shuffles past, collecting the money Rick’s doling out and patting his shoulder gratefully as he does so. It’s the same with the rest of the team, each of us getting enough money for two lap dances if we choose to, although I have a feeling we’ll end up pooling our funds towards the end of the night for a group dance.

We’re good and liquored up by the time we make it through the doors of Prowler, the bass of the music reverberating through our chest as we file into the VIP area, two bottles of champagne there to greet us. Sitting between Max and Jake, it’s not long before I have a glass in my hand, raising it to toast a reunion none of us imagined possible.

“To the walking dead. If you two fuckers ever go off on your own again, I’ll personally drag you back and kill you both. Love you guys.” Rick grins as our glasses clink, all of us nodding our agreement.

Before long, I feel a head slump on my shoulder, and looking down, find Jake, eyes at half mast. The realization that this is the first time he’s probably been able to relax since everything happened is a sobering thought, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to drag both he and Benji back to our safehouse and curl up with them until they both get as much sleep as they deserve. Logically, I know this is the only respite we’ll get until Wallace is in the ground, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing for more.

“You should get up there and show Lil’ Miss Daddy Issues how it’s really done,” Jake grins, giving me a wink to make sure I know he’s kidding.

“As tempting as that is, I feel like my time’s come and gone,” I laugh, shaking my head and earning a raised eyebrow from Max.

“I’m sorry, I thought I heard you disparage yourself, love,” Max comments during a lull between songs, one hand scratching at his short hair before he gently strokes a lock of mine behind my ear.

“It’s the truth. I’m not built the same way I used to be. And I’m definitely not as flexible.” Giving him an appreciative smile, I stroke his cheek in much the same way I had Jake’s, though Max nuzzles into my touch far more.

“Bet Max is dying to find out just how flexible you are.” Jake smirks, earning a light swat from me just as one of the girls comes around, offering herself up for a lap dance.

“If he wants to, it’s his,” I grin at Jake as I hold up my night’s allowance, figuring if I can’t beat ‘em, I may as well join ‘em.

Both Jake and Max’s eyebrows go up as I shift in my seat, making room for the dancer to grind in my lap. As the music thumps through the nearby speakers, the redhead slowly takes off her top, giving all the boys a front row seat.

Discreetly watching their reactions, it’s easy for me to spot the fact that out of all the boys, Max is the only one who seems ill at ease with the situation. It confuses me, because a few weeks prior, he was in the same position I’m in, and was only bothered when I took the girl away in favor of dragging him along on this mission. Although I’ll be the first to admit that his behavior’s changed in the last little while, this feels like another level, even for Max; like a breaking point.

Before I can even determine what to do, Jake flashes a $100 at the dancer and pats his lap, giveing me a kid-in-the-candy-store grin. Shaking my head, I’m about to say something, when I feel a tug on my hand. Looking to my left, I find Max standing and motioning his chin towards the exit, looking for all the world like this is the last place he wants to be.

I shoot a quick look back to the rest of the team, doing my best not to laugh as I find them entranced by three different girls, all of them vying for the attention of men who aren’t over 60 and actually know how to dress. Satisfied that they’re all occupied, I let Max pull me under his arm as we step outside, the comparative silence of London at night one that makes me instinctively shake my head to clear it.

“Where we going?” I smirk, my voice a little sing-songy as Max looks both ways before jaywalking us towards the direction of the safehouse.

“Home,” he smiles, tucking me back in. Although the stroll through the more historic part of town is a nice change of scenery, there’s no missing the fact that both Max and I are keeping our heads on a swivel, both of us keenly aware of everything that’s led us here.

Scanning our thumbs to get into the safehouse, I only manage to get my heels off before I feel Max pull me close, our lips colliding gently.

“Hey,” I murmur once we both pull back for air, my hands cupping his bearded face and forcing his gaze to lock with mine. “Are you sure? Or did I misread and you’re just planning another movie night?” I ask softly, not wanting Max to go any further than he feels comfortable with.

“If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that we don’t often get second chances, and that I may very well have been wasting what could be my only shot. That, and well...I love you, Carmen.”

I must recoil a bit, because a look of disappointment crosses Max’s face.

“Max,” I start, holding onto his face with just a bit more firmness, not wanting him to assume the worst. “In our line of work--”

“I know all about the superstitions and the old wives’ tales, Carmen. I just...After this I’m out, and I hope you are too. I want to enjoy what’s left of our lives, you know? Don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder forever.”

“I was out until this happened, so I understand, but Max..Me? Really?”

The tension leaves his face in lieu of a relieved and joy-filled smile, Max pulling me close and kissing me deeply. I sink into his arms, his mouth moving against mine without hurry as he walks us back towards my room.

I kick the door closed, hearing the woosh of the automatic lock behind us at the same time that Max’s calves hit the bed frame. Smirking, I push him back, enjoying the confusion on his face.

“I’m not exactly Mrs. Robinson, but I just might be trying to seduce you,” I joke, lifting one leg onto the chair across from the bed and slowly pushing down one of the thigh highs I’m wearing while simultaneously putting on some music, hellbent on making his first time as memorable as possible.

I watch Max sit up, his eyes roving over my body as he leans back on his elbows. Never has a man looked at me with more hunger and more love, and I know that tonight will either end quickly, or cause us both to walk into tomorrow’s meeting a little sleep-deprived; I’m hoping for the second option.

Though I have as many questions as I’m sure all the guys do when it comes to Max and his situation, I put them aside, focusing instead on being present and reading his body language for any sign of anxiety. Swaying my hips in time with the music, I come close enough for him to reach, only to pull away just before he can, sticking my tongue out teasingly as I slowly strip for him.

I make sure to face him when I drop my bra, not missing the tent in his slacks or the adoring look in his eyes. Max sits up further when I straddle his thighs, his hand slipping up my back as his lips find my breasts on instinct. I let my eyes close as he takes his fill, grinding against him without shame, learning how his body responds to mine.

Blindly, I push Max’s jacket off his broad shoulders, my fingers finding the buttons on his shirt soon after, a soft inhale escaping me when I feel his teeth gently nip in just the right spot. Raking my hand through his curls, I pull back just enough to admire a body I know he’s worked hard for.

Max uses my distractedness to his advantage, flipping us around so that my back is against the mattress. I let out a whoop of surprise, laughing softly as I watch him practically tear his clothes off, leaving only his black boxer briefs on, the thin fabric leaving little to the imagination. If the bulge is any indication, he’s big, and I’ve got my work cut out for me.

I motion for him to come back to me with both hands, and he obliges with a big grin, kissing his way up my body even as he pulls off what’s left of my clothes, leaving only my g-string intact. Neither of us hesitate as we eachother’s lips once more, Max cupping my breasts while I let my hand slip over his bulge, feeling a tingle go through me when he responds with a shiver and a thrust closer.

Pushing him back so that he’s sitting on his heels, I let my gaze flit between the waist of his briefs and his own blue orbs as I slowly pull down the material. His cock springs out, hard as marble and my eyes go wide, having expected the length, but not the girth that comes with it.

“Suddenly, your call sign makes so much more sense,” I shake my head with a smirk, waiting for Max to tug his briefs the rest of the way off before I take hold of his hips. Eyes meeting his again, I kiss through the thick thatch of hair that leads from his belly button to his base, feeling the jolt of anticipation go through him.

Max cards a hand through my hair as I lick my way up to his tip, a soft sound of enjoyment leaving my lips as I collect the precum drooling from his slit. I can’t help my smile when Max inhales sharply, the reaction making it clear that he’s been honest about never being with anyone.

Holding onto his muscular thigh with one hand, my other gently cups his sac, rolling gently as my lips seal around his shaft. Max’s breathing increases as every lick and suck brings a new feeling he’s never experienced before.

“Oh fuck!” He pants out, gripping my hair a little tighter as I take him all the way down, swallowing around his head before pulling back with a gasp of my own. I can’t help but moan as I lick down his shaft once more, popping his balls in my mouth to further tease him.

I can feel Max get close as his muscles contract, and with one last lick to his tip, I lay back, waiting to see what he’ll do. Max doesn’t hesitate, nearly diving between my legs, eyes wide with need. His enthusiasm earns a giggle from me, one that’s quickly silenced as he kisses over the sheer material of my g-string. Sitting up, I stroke my fingers through his curls, appreciating how good his mouth feels against my most sensitive area.

A soft moan escapes me when Max pulls the thin fabric aside and lets his tongue slip through my folds, the feeling reminding me of our deeper kisses and causing the same weightless sensation he’s so good at making me feel when we’re cuddled in bed. I lay back, putty in his hands as he lifts my legs over his shoulders, taking off my final piece of clothing as he does.

“Darling?” Max’s voice is hoarse but gentle, the question in his tone equal parts uncertain and hopeful.

“Bare, babe. Want to feel nothing but you inside me,” I answer, having already felt the swollen head of his cock brushing against my entrance; it’s one of the most arousing sensations I’ve experienced in a long time.

With a kiss to my calf, Max pushes his hips forward, groaning softly when he slides in with ease. I can’t help but reach up and cup his face, smiling as I experience the moment with him. Knowing how long he’s waited, I don’t take it lightly, honored to be his first.

“Feels so good inside you,” he whispers, eyes still wide, as though any minute he’ll wake from his dream.

Biting my lower lip, I can’t help but roll my hips, grinning ear to ear when my movement elicits a choked noise and a look of utter bliss. The growl Max gives me sobers any laughter, and before I can even open my mouth to squeal, his body is covering mine and his hips are rutting.

My mouth falls open in utter shock as Max cocoons my body in his arms, his lips searing every inch of skin he can find, while his thrusts push me up the bed an inch at a time. I can almost see stars at the crown of Max’s head as he brings me up so that I’m nearly seated on his thighs, his cock going even deeper and making the breath catch in my throat.

His lips find mine for a torrid kiss, Max’s pace picking up as he shifts the angle once more, making me moan loudly as his hips grind into my clit while his cock sweeps my g-spot relentlessly. There’s no doubt that Max’s need is primal, born from years of waiting for this very moment. Our gazes meet and I can’t stop myself from cupping his face, seeing beyond the lust to the depth of his feelings beneath and knowing that after tonight, nothing will be the same.

Max comes with a cry of my name, and I follow suit, gasping and jolting my hips, having never experienced an orgasm as intense as the one he’s given me. By the time he rolls us to our sides, our bodies still connected, tears are streaming down my face.

Everyone’s heard about the elusive orgasm so good it makes you cry, but I never thought it was true; until now.

“What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you?” Max’s voice holds a razor’s edge of panic, and though I manage to shake my head and smile, the tears won’t stop.

“I j-just...I’ve never...Y-you love me?” I stammer out nonsensically, burying my face in Max’s chest as I feel his arms tighten around me.

“Yes, darling, I love you. I’ve loved you for a very, very long time. I’ve just been too chicken shit to do anything about it until recently. I love you with all my heart and I’m not sure I’ll be able to spend another day without you.”

I look up as Max brushes my hair off my face, finding his gaze filled with the same tenderness, love and devotion that I’ve seen in his blue orbs time and time again over the years. My face finds his chest as the sobs come once more, Max chuckling softly as he holds me close.

#pablo schreiber #henry cavill #pablo schreiber x ofc #henry cavill x ofc #resurrection #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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