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softiem · 3 years ago

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you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

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“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face.

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

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tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

805 notes · View notes

feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years ago

Note

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

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mayxlee · 10 months ago

Text

She wasn't usually a talker, and yet here she was, feeling comfortable enough to share this with Dean. Being so overwhelmed with her dad's sickness back in the day, it made things only worse when people pitied her, to the point Maya just made it a habit of being out of the picture and nearly invisible. Being a quiet one only helped, as everyone seemed to forget her... and like everyone said, old habits died hard. Unnecessary attention only caused her to stress, which was ironic, considering what she did for a living.

"That's sweet, thank you," she said softly, mentally kicking herself when she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. She felt a little bit bad over the fact they didn't get to spend any time and get to know each other back in high school, but Maya doubted anyone would have liked her much back then. Things were tough; it was probably the toughest thing all of them had gone through, and it had still left an impact. With a small nod of her head, she smiled again, happy to not have confused everything. "No... I mean, I would like to watch it. Probably I won't understand much and will have so many questions I will annoy you," she realized with a laugh. "Yeah... I mean, do arcade games and Super Mario count? Because then, yes."

Listening to him quietly, she reached to help with some of the bags and removed the containers so Dean could place everything on plates. It was interesting to listen to what he was saying, especially since it seemed like he was passionate about both playing games and baking. At least, she could appreciate one of the two as a fellow sugar addict. "I see... well, it's a good thing you keep yourself busy with things that you enjoy doing," she responded softly with a smile. "Coke Zero sounds good, thank you," Maya added before tapping her fingers gently on the cold surface of the counter. "Well, I don't think you should. I've been to the sweet spot, and they have to drag me out," she half-joked. She wasn't sure how well he was with games, but his baking? Simply amazing.

It did pull on her heartstrings, the reason he started baking. No child had to go through something like that, and yet it seemed like his sweet nature had taken over, and this hobby of his just flourished out of pure kindness. "I am sorry you had to go through that," she said softly, dark hues glancing over at him. "I am sure she appreciated it. Look at you now; you're basically a master of it." If she agreed with one thing, though, it was how kids were not supposed to spend time in the kitchen. For someone who worked with scissors a lot, Maya found herself being weirded out by knives in general. No wonder why she was stuck with cold noodles all the time. "Sounds like you were also a sweet kid," Maya muttered, wondering if sweet kids always turned into sweet adults.

Moving her head to rest between both hands now, she looked at him and for a moment... stayed quiet. "Mm, no, not really," Maya said softly, at the thought of missing the city. "I never liked it much... it's too loud, people are constantly rude... not to mention you barely get to have a life, and the life you have? Well, apparently they didn't like me much, and kicked me out," she obviously joked, not wanting to think about her jerk of an ex. "It's a nice place to visit for a week, though... as long as you know how to move around. There is this little bakery I used to go and loved it, but I always feel overwhelmed at the thought of going back... even if it's for business. If I have to go nowadays, my brother tags along. He can't say no to my pouty face."

@deanchaiyachet

The way she'd put it, it definitely made Dean think she struggled with something internally, but he didn't dare bringing it up. He had never felt like he wanted to be invisible or not seen. Quite the opposite, but that didn't mean he didn't often made a fool out of himself whenever he was in public. Still, as Maya said her piece, he listened. As much of a blabber as he was, he liked listening to her, he found out. It was rather soothing.

"I get that." He said, giving her hand a gently squeeze as his sweet smile still spread across his lips. "For what it's worth... I'm glad you're not invisible." Because, growing up, as much as he didn't have the guts to tell her, he would admire Maya from afar, and tell Ingrid about how beautiful she was, but... you know, being the Chief of the Police's daughter, as well as Dean being a complete moron, kept him from making any moves on her. And before he knew it, she had already left for New York. "Hah, yeah, it's called streaming. Will it be pretentious of me to ask you to watch me someday? I'm pretty funny, you know?" Or at least, that's what his followers made him believe. "Are you into any kinds of games?" Maybe he could pick one from his 'games to play' list and let her know when he would be playing so she could watch it.

As they met again in the kitchen, now to eat the food he'd ordered for them, Dean nodded at her question. "That I am. I started full time, but now I only have time for a part-time job, which, is usually around closing time." He explained. "That way, I have time to come home, shower and start my streaming, and also, that way I don't have to sleep at 3-ish in the morning and wake up by 5." Dean laughed softly again, getting up from his seat to move to his fridge. "You want a soda? I have Coke Zero." Because that was probably one of life's biggest problems that he wasn't willing to let go of: Coca Cola. Well... that and Monster. "To answer your question, I don't think I'd ever give up on baking. I mean... professionally, sure."

Once he'd grabbed the bottle of soda and two glasses, Dean returned to the kitchen island and to his seat as he continued speaking. "But like... I started baking because I noticed my mom was always sad and in her room, which, later I found out that she was depressed, but... you know... when you're a kid, you just think your mom's sad. So I started baking her favorite sweets to try and cheer her up. Before I knew it, I was already experimenting in the kitchen... even though kids shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen in the first place." He shared. There was a lot about him people didn't really know, and not because he was a private person, but because, people tended to see that smile on his face and simply assumed he had it easy. "How was New York like? I bet you miss it, don't you? I mean... It's New York! Says the guy who's never been there." / @mayxlee

#－－with dean chaiyachet ∖#deanchaiyachet #DON'T FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO MATCH OKAY??#－－interactions ∖

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theepisceswriter · 4 years ago

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Jealous!Reader with AOT characters pt.2 (Porco, Bertholdt, Pieck, Zeke)

A/N: y’all really liked the first one I made here, so here’s a pt.2 with different characters

TW: none really apply, sort of suggestive for Zeke, Modern AU, GN!reader

PORCO GALLIARD

I am a firm believer that in a modern AU, Porco and Reiner would be the type of people to go to sport restaurants like Hooters, Buffalo Wild Wings, or Twin Peaks. They give me that macho man type of vibe. Of course though, Porco would make you tag along with him almost every time he went. He feels that it’s a very nice way for the two of you to bond. Which honestly it is.

You have a deep sense of security within yourself and enough trust in Porco to not be bothered by the waitresses there, as you should, knowing that it’s only their job to be enticing like that. Hell, you even enjoy it when the waitresses would flirt with you sometimes or you’d get the really pretty ones who look like they’re straight off of a magazine. Not to mention that you visit places like this often, so most of them know you and know that you and Porco are in a relationship together.

They all respect your boundaries and don’t try to push at them at all.....until this one waitress comes around. You can quite obviously tell that her flirting is different from the “trained” flirting that the other girls often do. She lingers at your table a little longer than she should be trying to talk to Porco to the point where other waitresses have to tell her to go check on other tables and she’s disregarding you completely, asking Porco questions that should be aimed at you and being very rude in general.

Porco is hardly paying her any mind, too focused on the game to really pay attention to what’s going on, but any piece of attention he gives to her she latches on too it. But still, you remain cordial and calm on the inside. Not wanting to come off as one of those significant others and cause a scene that doesn’t need to be caused. If someone looked at you for too long they might notice an eye twitch or two coming from you.

Really it’s Porco’s hand holding underneath the table that’s keeping you sane and reminding you of how secure your position in your relationship is. You almost calm down entirely, but of course the waitress has to come back and try desperately to get his attention again. At one point he zones out into the game and to try and get his attention she attempts to tap him on his shoulder.

Strong on the attempt because you grabbed her wrist before she could even brush her fingers against his shirt and gave her a stern “Aht! Aht! That is not going to be happening tonight and definitely not in front of me.”

And Porco, this menace to society, finally speaks up like, “I was wondering when you were finally going to say something. I was getting afraid that I didn’t mean anything to you anymore.” He would’ve eventually intervened himself though if she was actually successful in touching him.

The waitress gets the hint for the rest of the night, but just incase she doesn’t he holds you close to his side with his arm draped over your shoulders.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER

Despite his soft spoken nature and personality that sometimes falls on the shy part of the spectrum, Bertholdt is actually an easy person to come up to and start a conversation with. Of course, you have to be the one to start the conversation, but after that it’s like he can’t shut up, likes he’s compelled to answer back to everything and keep a conversation going.

It’s a trait of his that you’ve come to love, but also come to hate on days when you’re out in public with him and can just see the twinkle in a girl’s eyes when she’s getting ready to come over to him to flirt. It’s usually in awkward situations too like when you’re out shopping and he’s standing off to the side because he has no business looking at what you’re shopping for, so the fact that he’s kind of alienated from you and doesn’t know how to respond to flirting all that well in the first place really has him in an awkward chokehold.

He’ll get asked for his number and instead of saying flat out no, because he doesn’t want to be harsh, he struggles to let words out at all as he tries to think of what to say. And people really prey on his shyness and don’t even give him the chance to respond before they’re forcing themselves on him more, handing their phone out to him just waiting to input a number.

Imagine the shock and anger on your face when you turn around from your shopping happy ready to show Bertholdt what you got and instead you see a girl trying to get his number! You’re over there in an instant, legs carrying you as fast as they can and a scold on your face as you go over there and the first thing you do is push that phone as far away from him as you can.

“I know my BOYFRIEND and something tells me that he is not interested in the direction this conversation is going with you whatsoever, so I suggest you leave him alone before I make you 😤” The girl leaves like immediately after that.

Bert is just behind you the whole time with a ☺️ look on his face like “Yes, that is indeed my significant other!” Which is so funny because he’s like 6’3 and towering over you, but you’re the feisty one!

He does feel kinda guilty for not cutting off the interaction before it got that far, so he wraps his arms around you and nuzzle his face into your neck all like, “I’m sorry baby 🥺🥺 you know I don’t like anyone else but you 🥺🥺 I was trying to tell them no thank you but it wouldn’t come out 🥺🥺”

You couldn’t stay mad at him even if you wanted to, that’s all it takes for you to forget about it altogether.

PIECK FINGER

It’s almost impossible to see someone as fine looking as Pieck and not shoot your shot. If I saw Pieck out in public the first thing I would do is shoot my shot.

It happens allll the time whenever you two go out. Out at the mall shopping for clothes? Someone’s going to come up to you two and try to hit on Pieck. At the club minding each other’s business and trying to have a good time? Some guy is going to come over and try to ruin that for you too.

At first it was like a bragging rights thing for you. Everyone noticed your hot girlfriend was hot but you were the one who went home to her everyday and not them, but at some point it switched from a bragging right to down right annoying. It’s like you can’t leave her alone for more than a couple of seconds because here comes someone breathing down her neck being a weirdo!

Poor Pieck doesn’t even know what’s going on half of the time because she be baked out of her mind, thinking about nothing but how some ruffles and ice cream can really hit right now. So she’s just going along with the conversation like “mhm, yeah ☺️” every ten seconds hoping that they’d get the hint that she’s not thinking about them at all and to leave her alone. But, of course, they don’t.

Her body language becomes stressed out and agitated, not knowing what to do because you’re in the gas station buying snacks for the two of you while she’s far away at the gas pumps doing her best to get an ending with this weirdo where they don’t kidnap her.

Luckily, just on time you exit out the gas station and even before you get any closer to Pieck you’re already pissed off at the fact that someone is probably hitting on her, but after you see her do that awkward little shuffle with her feet signifying that she’s uncomfortable? You’re over there in a heartbeat.

See, maybe you would’ve been a bit nicer if her body language didn’t tell you that they had been pestering her for a while despite how everything about her screamed ‘not interested.’

So what do you do? You take the bottle of sprite you bought and bop them on the head with it. Head empty no thoughts just ‘protect my stoner girlfriend.’

Pieck is so messy too, she’s in the background like “Ohhhhh shit *giggle* fight! Fight! Fight!” You were ready to rumble too, but if you were so ready to hit them in the head with a sprite bottle the other person definitely didn’t want to know what else you were confident with doing. So they recuperated from their sprite bottle hit and went running to their car.

This was a proud girlfriend moment for Pieck the whole drive home. She could not stop talking about how much of a badass you were and how she loved that you would do anything for her.

ZEKE JAEGER

I wrote soft Zeke already, so now it’s time for me to give y’all the menace Zeke y’all have been waiting for.

Zeke is the type of significant other who’s big on teasing and messing with his partner is general. There’s something about seeing them all flustered after he does something to embarrass them, like fake propose to them in public or something, that really cracks him up. That being said, he’s not opposed to flirting with someone in front of you to get you riled up and see your reaction.

Let’s set the scene; He drags you to Sam Ash with him, because we’ve all just collectively decided that modern day Zeke is a music pretentious asshole, to go get something for his guitar or at least that’s what you assume he was complaining about. You weren’t even listening, just excited to go and mess with the drums and guitars there. It’s the first thing you do once you get there and Zeke sees this as his opportunity to finally mess with you.

He goes over to the drum set display you’re playing on and calls over and employee with “inquiries” about the set you’re playing on. He pretends to ask a few genuine questions at first but eventually he’s able to get the conversation to shift to something a little more personal. Which isn’t terrible, but once he starts throwing out lines like “Oh you like (said band)? I’ve always found myself gravitating towards people who like them. They’re always the most attractive people, I’ve found 😏.” Is when you start getting agitated.

You’re just trying to play We Will Rock You on the drums and here he goes killing your vibe immensely. And it’s hard to ignore when they’re standing right on the side of you. Not to mention how the employee is eating all of this up, blushing and all. It’s at the first mention of numbers being exchanged that you’ve decided you’ve had enough. Without a word to Zeke you get up and storm out of the store.

Was this a dick move on his end? Absolutely, but you’re a couple who’s relationship is filled with debating and bickering, bickering especially, so part of him thought you would play along with his little game and be like “Whatever. I don’t care.” But instead, you were genuinely upset. You didn’t even know where you were going but you were going somewhere. And that somewhere was the outside of the Sam Ash store because you realized you really didn’t have a choice.

Sorry guys, but I have to switch over to soft Zeke now.

He comes running after you, “y/n! Y/n it was a joke!” But that just makes you even more mad and oops, a year drops down your face and he feels terrible.

Kisses all over your face, words of assurance spilling out his lips, and a tight ass beat hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m such a dick I know. I didn’t mean to make you this upset though.” He would get down on his knees if he had to!

I guess you can forgive him just this once, but only on the terms that you get Sub!Zeke tonight and get to act as a pillow princess/prince cause he has a lot of making up to do.

#sorry if there are any typos i was kinda rushing #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #porco galliard x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #pieck finger x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot imagines

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queenshelby · 3 years ago

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The Nanny – Part Two

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Words: 5798

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Tag List:

@atomicsoulcollecto @datewithgianni @mariapaiva13 @avonlady1985 @lauren-raines-x @hanster1998 @elenavampire21 @nerdy4itall @peakyboyslover @atomicsoulcollecto @lilymurphy03 @deefigs @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy

NOTE re Tag List: If you haven't been tagged but have requested to be tagged, please check your settings to ensure that I can actually tag you. I have reviewed all tag list requests and if you do not appear above, I cannot physically tag you because of your settings. Please PM me once you would like me to try again.

A Small Surprise

Another week had passed since your encounter with Cillian at the theatre and you missed interacting with him, especially now that you broke up with Darcy once again.

Once again, Darcy had become verbally abusive towards you and you were devastated and upset about his behaviour. You became to realise that, most probably, he won’t ever change. You often thought about Cillian’s words. You were too young to be wasting your time on someone like this.

But, despite your breakup, Darcy called you at least ten times a day, trying to apologise. You ignored his calls, but, unfortunately for you, you still had to interact with him at theatre practice and art school.

At least, Anita was there for you and tried her best to prevent you and Darcy from having arguments while dealing with each other in a professional capacity. But it wasn’t easy.

Since your latest and hopefully final break up, Anita had also tried to hook you up with her brother, but you really weren’t interested in dating anyone after what you have encountered with Darcy.

Despite your disinterest in dating, you struggled to get one man out of your head and this was Cillian.

Since you became to know what he was doing for a living, you could evermore so understand his reluctance to get involved with someone your age. It would almost be cliché for an actor to date someone half his age. The backlash would almost be ridiculous.

In the same vein, you were really not keen on dating an actor. The ridiculous filming schedules, the gossip and the fact that people would look at you differently would certainly upset you and make you uncomfortable.

Yet, you couldn’t forget about him and the kiss you shared. The kiss he initially returned and which felt so amazingly good.

There was something about him that you hadn’t found in any man before. It was almost like you had known him for years and yet, you barely knew him at all. You felt comfortable in his presence and it felt natural to be around him.

With these thoughts on your mind, it was easy for you to let go of Darcy this time around eve though you knew that you could never have Cillian. Or could you?

It was a Sunday afternoon that Craig came home after spending some time at the pub celebrating a friend’s birthday.

He looked somewhat tipsy when he walked inside and Ella became rather frustrated with him. It was almost too funny to watch.

You noticed him carrying a paper back.

‘Y/N, this is for you’ Craig said as he handed the bag to you.

‘Uhm, thank you’ you said, surprised by his gesture.

‘Oh, don’t thank me. Cillian asked me to give this to you so thank him’ Craig said, unsure about what was in the bag. He believed Cillian’s gesture to be odd but didn’t dare to question it.

You walked into your room, curious about what was in the bag.

Unsurprisingly, it was a book entitled ‘The History of Irish Theatre’.

You and Cillian had talked about this book following your little incident at his house.

He thought that it was very educational for anyone who is interested in Irish literature and play writes and he said that, when he goes back to his house, he would get it for you so that you could read it.

You opened the book, very keen to read it.

To your surprise, Cillian had left you a note inside which, amongst other things, contained his mobile phone number and an offer to help you with rehearsing the play if you needed it and wanted an outsider’s opinion.

He also was kind to tag the pages relevant to your play in the 350 page book.

You took out your phone and saved his number before texting him to say thank you.

He responded almost immediately. His response was short but that is what you would have expected from a man in his 40s.

About an hour later, you received another text message from him.

‘I have four tickets to a play at the Abbey which I think you might like. You could go with some friends from your theatre group and your boyfriend. Unfortunately, it’s for a Sunday night though’ he texted.

You responded by thanking Cillian for the offer and telling Cillian that you had broken up with Darcy before taking the courage to ask him whether he would be interested to come with you to see the play.

An hour after your text, you still hadn’t received a response and you regretted asking him. After what happened between you, you thought that you must have taken it too far.

Another twenty minutes later, as you were in the shower, the phone rang.

You quickly jumped out of the shower and answered your phone while the water was still running in the background.

‘Hi, Cillian’ you said shyly as you shivered, still being wet from the shower.

‘Am I calling you at a bad time?’ Cillian asked, observing the background noise through the phone.

‘No no, not at all’ you said.

‘What’s that noise?’ he asked.

‘Uhm, I was just having a shower’ you said and, just after you said this, you realised how inappropriate your comment was once again. There was an awkward silence on Cillian’s end following your comment.

‘Right’ he said before taking a pause.

‘About Sunday, I have seen the play already with some friends but I am happy to take you if you want’ he said before taking another pause. ‘As a friend that is’ he added, qualifying his offer.

‘Of course, yes’ you said shyly.

‘I think that, if we go together, I should probably invite Craig and Ella and suggest that you come with them’ Cillian suggested, being mindful that, otherwise, this might awkward.

‘Yes, sounds good’ you said.

‘Great, I will let you get back to your shower then’ Cillian said with a laugh.

‘Alright…and thanks’ you said.

‘You are welcome’ Cillian responded before hanging up.

To your surprise, a day later, Cillian told you that Craig and Ella weren’t interested in the play but had no problem with you going to see it with Cillian and some other friends.

You felt somewhat awkward about Craig and Ella knowing that you were going to see a play with their mutual friend. But Cillian assured you that they didn’t think anything of it. In Ireland, everyone was friendly and welcoming and interactions like this weren’t suspicious. In fact, Cillian had even told Craig that he had offered to help you with your theatre project and that he believed that the play you were going to see would really help you with your perspective on contemporary Irish theatre. With Cillian being double your age, Craig simply thought that it was a nice gesture and Craig also knew that Cillian could do with some friendly company after yet another fight with his fiancée.

Instead of Craig and Ella, Cillian ended up inviting his youngest sister Janet and her husband John. They both enjoyed theatre and had recently returned to live in Dublin after spending five years together in London.

You met Cillian and his sister and her husband at the theatre and they were very welcoming. You thought it was going to be strange, meeting Cillian’s family, but it wasn’t at all. His sister was in her late twenties and you could relate to her.

You talked about many things before the play started and she was surprised when she learned that you were only 20 years old. According to her, you appeared very mature for your age.

Change of Mind

‘You know she’s nice, smart and very pretty’ Janet said to Cillian about you after you excused yourself to go to the bathroom right before the play started.

‘And she is 20 years old and I am still in a relationship’ Cillian chuckled in response to her comment.

‘And here you are, choosing to attend this play with her instead of your fiancée’ Janet giggled.

‘Because my fiancée and I are taking a break and Y/N is just a friend’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I think you already made up your mind about your fiancée. I know you brother. I am not blind either. I can see the way you look at Y/N. You like her a lot’ Janet said.

‘Janet, she is 20. Now can we change the topic please’ Cillian said firmly.

‘So what if she is 20?...I like her. She seems nice’ Janet said before her husband John had to comment just like a man would.

‘Just count yourself lucky Cillian. Not every man your age has a shot with a young woman like her. Also, you wouldn’t be the first actor who goes there trust me’ John said, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Enough now, please’ Cillian said just as you returned from the bathroom.

When you returned to the table where Cillian, Janet and John were standing, you finally heard the theatre bell. Cillian seemed somewhat relieved that the play was about to start and you made your way inside, taking your seats.

Just as you sat down, you saw Darcy with his parents and brother. Your heart sunk and you hoped that he would not see you. But he did, almost immediately.

The situation had officially become awkward and, just as Darcy saw you, his father spotted you and Cillian as well.

He came over to greet you and Cillian which, instantly, raised a lot of questions.

Cillian explained to Darcy’s father that you were a friend and, just as he did, the bell rang again, telling everyone to take their seat.

This was lucky, preventing Darcy’s father from asking more questions.

Darcy’s father excused himself and, luckily for you, Darcy was at his best behaviour with his parents being around.

During the interval, Darcy greeted you politely and that was it. He didn’t acknowledge Cillian, Janet and John and there weren’t any further interactions from his side.

After the play had finished, Janet suggested that you all go to Cillian’s house for a drink and some pizza. After all, you hadn’t had dinner yet.

You agreed and picked up some Pizza and a couple of bottles of wine on the way.

To your surprise however, Janet excused herself pretty much straight after dinner and a glass of wine.

‘Well, John and I have to get up very early tomorrow’ Janet said.

‘We do?’ John asked.

‘Yes darling, don’t you remember the thing at your work?’ Janet asked, giving John a nudge.

‘The thing at my work?....Oh right, the thing at my work. I forgot’ John said.

‘Well, we will be going, but you two should really finish this bottle of wine’ Janet said and you observed her winking at Cillian.

Cillian sighed before giving his sister a kiss on the cheek and saying goodbye.

‘Uhm that was strange’ you giggled just as Janet and John left. ‘I just finish this and will call a taxi’ you said, pointing to your full glass of wine.

‘Yes, my sister is strange indeed’ Cillian chuckled, knowing exactly what his sister had in mind.

‘So how did you like the book?’ Cillian went on to ask to change the topic.

‘It’s fantastic. In particular the actor’s notes on the scenes. Although, there is one thing no one really talks about and I have been trying hard to find material on it’ you said.

‘And what is that?’ Cillian asked curiously.

‘How do you act a scene where you have to kiss someone. I mean, do you actually kiss them on stage? How about on screen? I mean, you would have the answer to this wouldn’t you?’ you said.

‘I do’ Cillian laughed.

‘Well then please enlighten me. I am curious’ you said.

‘On screen, depending on the angle of the camara, you most often don’t get around kissing. Your lips touch. It’s as simple as that’ Cillian said.

‘But is it different from a normal kiss?’ you asked.

‘Not really’ Cillian said. ‘But, in saying this, for theatre, no one from the audience will be close enough to see what you are doing so just give the guy a peck if you feel too uncomfortable to kiss him’ Cillian laughed, knowing that the play you were doing included a scene just like this.

‘I am glad you can laugh about it’ you said sheepishly.

‘Well, I know for a fact that you’ve kissed a man before so I think you will be fine. Just don’t think about it as a kiss. Think about it as an act. I guarantee you that, when you are in character with a complex script like yours, it will just come naturally’ Cillian said.

‘I suppose you are right. I mean, at least it’s not Darcy who I have to kiss on stage’ you laughed.

‘Well, there you go’ Cillian said just as an awkward silence erupted between you again.

‘Speaking of which, I have actually been thinking about our kiss more often than I should have’ you said shyly.

‘Y/N, we agreed that we would forget about what happened that morning’ Cillian said.

‘We did. But I can’t’ you said before taking a pause. ‘Can you?’ you asked.

‘I’ve been trying’ he chuckled, causing you to smile.

‘Perhaps you should stop trying and kiss me again. Just once more and I will never mention it again’ you said as you walked over towards him.

‘I am twice your age Y/N. You do realise that, right?’ Cillian said as you took his hands suggestively, indicating that you wanted him to stand up.

‘Yes, I do and I like it’ you giggled before biting your lip. Your comment made Cillian raise his eye brows and laugh.

‘You could be with someone your own age Y/N. I am sure you get plenty of offers. So why me?’ he asked as he stood up in front of you, running his hand over your cheek and moving part of your hair away from your face and behind your ear.

‘Because you are intelligent, kind and not afraid to be yourself. I like that. Despite, I also think that you are incredibly attractive’ you whispered shyly.

‘But, if you don’t like me then just tell me and I accept that’ you added after Cillian didn’t respond to your comment.

‘I like you alright. But I know that it would be a very bad idea if were to get involved with each other’ Cillian said quietly.

‘Maybe. Maybe not’ you said and, just like this, Cillian leaned forward and pressed his lips on to yours.

The kiss was gentle and Cillian caressed your face with his warm hands while his soft lips explored yours. Your lips moved in sync with his for a moment until he pulled away slightly.

‘We should not be doing this’ Cillian said and, just after he did, you decided that, this time, he wouldn’t get away that easily and you crashed your lips back onto his.

He accepted the kiss, giving into you for what felt like an eternity until he pulled away again.

‘Are you sure this is what you want? Because there will be implications if…’ he said and, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted.

‘I know and I am prepared to deal with these implications as they arise’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his. You knew that, most likely, you would have to keep your interactions with Cillian a secret at least for a little while and you knew that, later down the track, this might cause issues with Craig and Ella.

Despite these intrusive thoughts, you managed to switch off and get lost in the moment and kiss between you soon became heated as Cillian gently slipped his tongue in between the opening of your lips.

You gave in and let his tongue dance with yours as if it was the most natural thing to do. He was such a good kisser. Gentle and passionate.

‘Now do you want me to stay for the night or call a taxi?’ you asked as, after at least ten minutes, your lips drifted apart.

‘If you were to stay, what would you be telling Craig and Ella?’ Cillian asked.

‘That I had some drinks after the theatre and ended up staying at a friend’s house’ you said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I guess you are staying then’ he said as he ran his hand over your cheek again before giving you another kiss.

‘Alright’ you said shyly. ‘I will go and have a shower then’ you said nervously.

It felt different this time around and you didn’t know how far he wanted to go. You had never had sex before and intimacy didn’t come naturally to you.

After you both had showers, separately, you met in bed just like the last time when you stayed at Cillian’s house.

Just this time, neither of you bothered getting dressed for the occasion.

Bed Time

Cillian was lying there, under the doona, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs as you walked into the bedroom.

You, on the other hand, wore even less. A black thong. That was it and you could see the appreciation on Cillian’s face as you walked into the bedroom.

But, in addition to your naked body, your tattoos and piercings, he could also see the nervousness on your face as you climbed into bed next to him.

‘You are beautiful’ he said as you got under the doona.

‘If you say so’ you smiled shyly before giving him a kiss.

It wasn’t long until he gently pulled you closer towards him and began running his masculine hands over your body, including your breasts and all the way down to your naked ass.

His lips never left yours and you enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The little amount of his chest hair brushed against your breasts and, as he held you close, you could feel his erection grow beneath his breaths.

You knew he wanted you, all of you and, whilst you wanted to be with him, you weren’t quite ready to take this step yet.

‘Cillian, I am…I never had…’ you said and, before you could finish your sentence Cillian withdraw his hand from you.

‘You are a virgin?’ he asked somewhat surprised, causing you to nod. Whilst you hinted on this previously when you talked with him about Darcy being pushy when it came to your relationship, you never actually told him that you never had sex. It all made more sense to him now and made him dislike how Darcy had treated you even more.

‘I am sorry. I didn’t realise’ Cillian said.

‘Are you disappointed?’ you asked, noticing Cillian’s reluctance to touch you again the same way he was before you told him.

‘Why would I be disappointed?’ he asked, running his hand over your cheek.

‘Not sure. Perhaps you expected something else tonight?’ you said shyly.

‘Well, the truth is that I didn’t expect anything tonight. Not kissing you, not lying next to you or getting to touch your beautiful body. So, I am getting way more than I had bargained for’ Cillian said.

‘You are so kind Cillian. What I meant was that, once you got a woman into bed, you probably didn’t expect this’ you said somewhat embarrassed.

‘At my age, probably not’ Cillian laughed. ‘But, I am not disappointed Y/N. We will just take things slow, move at your pace, alright? Despite, there are so many things other than sex in the conventional way that are enjoyable and I am just happy to lie here with you and kiss you all night’ Cillian said before pressing his lips back on to yours.

‘Things other than sex in the conventional way?’ you asked curiously after your lips drifted apart.

‘Yeah, you know, like other things’ Cillian chuckled. He clearly was out of your comfort zone having to give you a sex ed lesson.

‘Hmm, like what?’ you said cheekily. ‘Can you show me?’ you asked nervously. Whilst you weren’t quite ready to take things all the way, you felt an overwhelming desire for this man and you trusted him and you certainly wanted him to continue to touch you.

Cillian chuckled at your comment but reluctantly agreed. After all, he just promised you to take things slow and what he was about to do didn’t exactly fall into the category of taking things slow.

‘Alright, but you are in charge. Promise me that you will tell me if you want me to stop, ok?’ Cillian said reassuringly.

‘I promise’ you said before he leaned in and gave you another kiss before guiding your back down on to the mattress.

After you lied down comfortably, Cillian kissed you once again before his lips began trailing down your neck, kissing all over it, while his hands wandered over your naked breasts.

In this moment, you felt somewhat vulnerable. You weren’t exactly blessed with a large bust but Cillian seemed to like what he saw as he kissed down your beautiful body, his lips and tongue exploring and enjoying the sweetness of your flesh.

Eventually, his lips found their way to your perky breasts and lingered at a taut, pierced nipple, the tip of his tongue rolling around it, over the tiny bumps on your areola. He drew it into his mouth, eliciting a soft sigh from you as he sucked.

It felt amazing, much unlike what anyone else had ever done to you before and you could feel an unexpected tension build up in between your legs. The moisture within you was building and you trusted Cillian even once his lips began to trail further down your body.

His lips soon found the swell of your belly, and he showered it with soft kisses. His tongue played a moment in your pierced belly button before he continued his downward journey.

Then, suddenly, his lips touched the top of your lace panties causing you to let out a surprisingly loud moan.

No man had ever been this close to your mound before with anything else but their fingers.

With his fingers, he hooked into the ream of your lace panties before sliding them down all the way past your knees and then down over your feet before letting them drop over the bed.

There you were, completely naked, in front of the man you were so desperate for.

With his head moving back in between your legs, you felt vulnerable and excited at the same time.

The scent of your hot sex was now filling his nostrils, making him crave the taste of you.

His lips first touched the inside of your thighs, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. Again, you couldn’t help it but moan unexpectantly loud at the sensation.

Your reaction made Cillian smile against your thighs and he moved his head slightly inwards.

You could feel his warm breath on your vulva just before his lips touched your naked mound for the first time.

‘Oh god’ you inhaled sharply, making him smile again. He clearly was doing all the right things and took it slow, much slower than he would usually take it.

After kissing your most intimate body part a couple of time, he finally let his tongue lightly trace down the folds of your flesh.

It felt insane and you moaned loudly before you started to squirm when his tongue ran through your folds for the second time.

Cillian soon felt your fingertips caress his hair as he teased you.

He ran his tongue up and down those lips, enjoying the wetness between them.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned just as you gripped his hair tighter as he pushed his tongue inward in between your lips, savouring the sweet taste of you.

By this point you were dripping wet as his tongue went as deep as it could, his face awash with your warm juices.

Then, Cillian pulled back slightly, moving his tongue up and down, side to side, not wanting to leave any part of your sex untouched.

At the top, he found that sensitive nub of flesh, now fully extended. As his tongue flicked against it, he felt you give a little shiver of pleasure. His tongue swirled around and around, and then his lips engulfed it, sucking it gently as you began to moan even louder.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as you let your body take in the fullest extend of this sensation and closed your eyes.

Just as you closed your eyes, you could feel one of Cillian’s fingers run over your wet slit while his tongue continued to swirl around your clit.

You took in a deep breath but tried to relax as much as possible, thinking about what he might be doing next.

And, just like this, he carefully slipped a finger into you, watching your cues closely for any pain.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned again at the sensation. To your surprise, it felt nice, very nice.

After your body relaxed again Cillian began moving his finger in and out in a slow, steady rhythm as his tongue played a staccato on your pulsing clit.

He loved your taste, your scent, your sounds, he was in his happy place, and your pleasure was his goal.

He kept going, making love to you with his lips and tongue and fingers. Your sounds intensified in volume; the grip on his hair tightened; your hips rose as you squirmed beneath his ministrations.

After several minutes of pure extasy, Cillian carefully inserted a second finger while he gentle sucked on your clit.

You tensed up once again at the intrusion but, following some mild discomfort, were able to relax again. The slight amount of pain quickly turned into pleasure and your breathing was becoming heavier.

You felt full, just by his fingers and they moved in and out of you in the perfect rhythm.

With your moans becoming louder and louder and your walls becoming tighter around his fingers, he could tell that you were close. He pushed his fingers into you deeper, hooking them slightly upward and touching that other magical spot you never knew existed.

Your moans turned into screams of pleasure and your hips bucked as he pushed you over the edge.

Cillian lifted his eyes so he could look up at you and see your head thrown back, eyes closed, and mouth open with your moans and screams of pleasure filling the room.

You were totally lost in the ecstasy of the moment. His tongue was still dancing against your pulsing extended clit.

Your hips bucked one more time, and then you grasped his hair and pulled him away. It was too much, too intense.

He would have kept going for as long as you would let him, but your body had reached the point of pleasure saturation, and you needed to catch your breath.

While you were breathing heavily, coming down from your high slowly, Cillian kissed his way up your body until your lips met, and you shared one long deep kiss.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked as he could see small tears building up in your eyes. You looked completely exhausted and somewhat confused.

‘Yes, it’s just… I think I just had an orgasm’ you laughed.

‘Well, that was the idea’ Cillian chuckled. But you didn’t laugh at his joke. You were entirely overwhelmed.

‘Have you not had one before?’ Cillian asked somewhat surprised by your reaction.

‘What, an orgasm? No…But I read it’s normal for women not to have orgasms’ you said shyly.

‘If that was true then that would be pretty disappointing’ Cillian chuckled as he took you into his arms.

‘How about you get some rest alright?’ Cillian said with a smile as you seemed somewhat besides yourself which he thought was cute.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in his arms. You felt so safe and secure next to him.

But for Cillian, it took a little longer. Whilst he promised you to take it slow and was prepared to stick to his promises, deep down inside, he wanted you, all of you.

Good Morning Mr Murphy

The next morning, your alarm went off at 7am. You had to attend art school which was due to start at 9am.

You would have rather stayed in bed with Cillian, but this wasn’t an option.

When the sound of your alarm ripped you out of your dreams and your eyes shot open, you noticed that Cillian wasn’t lying next to you.

As you got up to look for him, you heard the shower running in the bathroom. He was up early and it surprised you.

‘Can I come in?’ you asked as you knocked on the bathroom door.

‘Uhm, yes sure’ Cillian yelled out. He clearly was still in the shower.

‘Good Morning’ you said as you walked inside, not being able to see Cillian through the steam covering the door of the shower.

‘Good Morning… I will be out in a minute’ Cillian said, his voice sounding somewhat hasty.

‘No need, I just come in’ you said.

Without asking permission, you opened the shower door and stepped inside.

Your lips instantly met Cillian’s lips as you stepped closer towards him. But he seemed somewhat uncomfortable with your quick approach.

As you went to press your body against his soapy chest, you could feel something in between you and, just as you did, you looked downwards.

This was the first time you saw Cillian’s most intimate part and it was quite a sight.

‘Sorry’ Cillian said with some embarrassment as his erection pressed against you. He had struggled with it on and off since the previous night.

‘Now I am no expert, but I think that your reaction down there tells me that you like me, a lot’ you giggled as your hand reached for his hard cock.

Cillian moaned at your touch and you slowly began stroking him.

‘Now, I have never done this before so just tell me if I do something wrong alright?’ you said as your hands moved to either side of his hips.

‘Done what?’ Cillian asked and, just as he did, you dropped down to your knees right there in front of him.

‘This’ you said as you took hold of his cock again and guided it towards your mouth.

You could hear a soft moan come out of Cillian as your tongue touched his shaft for the first time.

You first licked the side of his shaft tentatively. Your heart was pounding as you did and you continued licking the sides and worked your way to the top of his cock.

Swirling your tongue around the head of Cillian’s cock and then working your way back down the shaft, you felt like you found yourself in another world, one you had never been in before.

Cillian groaned again and you felt his hands on your head as you continued licking his cock and then finally taking him into your mouth as far as you could go.

You didn't have a clue what you were doing, never having done this before, but you started bobbing up and down his shaft.

As Cillian’s moans became louder and steadier, you started bobbing up and down his cock even faster. You could taste his per cum on your tongue and then felt his hands hold on to the hair on your head even tighter.

You were in control but it was almost like he needed to hold on to something, grab something with his hands.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned and you could tell he was getting close.

Before he could say anything else, you looked up at him.

‘I want you to come in my mouth’ you said before taking him back inside your mouth.

He looked surprised but didn’t dare to argue and, after a few more head bobs, he let go.

You could feel his cock begin to throb in your mouth and, just as you did, his hot sweet cum began to flow steadily from his shaft into your mouth.

You stopped bobbing your head as he came down from his high and let go of his cock before looking up at him and opening your mouth.

He could see his cum in your mouth and the disbelieve on his face made you laugh for a second, causing you to spill some but swallowing the rest.

‘Are you sure you never done this before because I never had a woman do this last bit’ Cillian chuckled as he helped you up.

‘No…never’ you said. ‘But, I’ve watched porn before’ you laughed as you wiped your mouth before giving Cillian a kiss.

After your intimate encounter, you both cleaned yourself off and got dressed before Cillian gave you a lift to art school.

Unpleasant Surprise

Your day at art school was good but you couldn’t get Cillian out of your head that day.

You went as far as to cancel your date with Anita that same afternoon so that you could surprise Cillian at his house later.

It was probably for the better you thought as Anita had many questions for you that day after Darcy had told her that he saw you at the theatre with Cillian.

At 4.30pm, after picking up some food and clothes from at home, you made your way to Cillian’s place.

You knocked on the door and, eventually, Cillian opened.

‘What are you doing here Y/N?’ Cillian asked surprised. You came by unannounced and thought that, maybe, it wasn’t a good idea after all. Perhaps he didn’t like surprises.

‘I am sorry, I should have called. I just wanted to surprise you’ you said before asking Cillian whether you could come inside.

‘It’s not a good time Y/N’ Cillian said and, in this moment, you could hear a female voice from inside his apartment.

Through the crack of the door, you could see a blonde woman. She was pretty, probably in her late thirties, wearing a black dress and heels. It was obvious to you that Cillian and her were close.

‘Can I call you later?’ Cillian asked.

‘Right, sure’ you sighed as you handed him the bag with the food and walked off.

As you walked towards the elevator, tears were building up in your eyes and you felt overwhelmingly anxious and upset. Perhaps he wasn’t different than other actors and you were just another quick fling.

You didn’t pick up his calls that day. You’ve been hurt enough by men in the past.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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linklethehistorian · 7 months ago

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Since I have been searching for the past three fucking hours trying find an actual decent ASMR video that labels its shit correctly so I can FINALLY get back to fucking sleep (as at times like these I CANNOT WITHOUT THEM) and have very much lost ALL of my generosity towards this community, here is your very unfriendly reminder that you should treat ASMR like AO3 and your triggers each like a separate form of dead dove content when it comes to labeling them in your video title and descriptions.

I cannot tell you how much of my sleep and time has been lost in the moments I needed y’all most thanks to y’all’s sheer inconsiderate bullshit where you will NOT LIST YOUR TRIGGERS CORRECTLY EVEN FOR THE SAKE OF THOSE OF US WHO MISOPHONIA/SPD AND LITERALLY CANNOT LISTEN TO CERTAIN TRIGGERS.

Here is your unfriendly as hell reminder that:

If you start doing a trigger that is not listed in the title or description or at least implied with “various triggers” or something of the like, and do it for more than like 3-5 seconds, or even do it for 3-5 seconds more than once, I am clicking out of your video and probably making a mental note to never watch a single one of your videos going forward, because you have proven you can’t be trusted and don’t actually care about your audience. Extra bonus negative points against you if you label something “pure [x trigger]” but it isn’t actually pure [x trigger].

I get that if you’re used to/love doing a trigger, you can forget yourself and do it by accident, but you have this thing called editing on your side. You can literally take it the fuck out before you post the video. And if you refuse because you think it sounds nice, great!!! BUT TAG THAT SHIT. PUT IT IN THE TITLE. OR PUT IT IN THE DESCRIPTION.

I DON’T CARE HOW GOOD YOU THINK IT SOUNDS OR HOW UNIVERSALLY AGREEABLE YOU THINK THE TRIGGER IS.

IT AIN’T GOOD AND UNIVERSALLY AGREEABLE TO EVERYONE.

Also, if a trigger is going to be intermittent rather than constant, maybe TAG THAT SHIT TOO. Alternating between two triggers rather than doing both at once throughout the video can be the exact opposite of what some of us need in order to sleep, so it would be nice if you would please say “[x trigger] with some [x trigger]” rather than implying both will be all throughout the video.

I am so sick of having to sit through like up to 10 minutes of a video and even then have to click through and test parts of the rest just to determine if someone is being honest about the triggers in a video, possibly subjecting myself to something that will trigger my SPD severely and/or give me a headache just because your stupid asses can’t be bothered to think that just maybe you might be causing someone else distress by not appropriately labeling your content that you claim you create TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE RELAX AND SLEEP.

So once more for the people in the back:

Treat ASMR like AO3.

Treat every trigger in a video like it is a different form of dead dove content that you need to warn about and label it in the title or the description, no matter if you think you didn’t do it long or often enough to ‘warrant’ it.

Don’t say “pure [trigger]” if it isn’t PURE [trigger] all throughout.

If you start doing something by habit or accident in a video that was only supposed to be certain trigger or set of triggers, either edit that shit out or label it.

If you don’t want to label every trigger, saying “assorted/various triggers” is your ASMR equivalent of “author chose not to use archive warnings” and such. It tells us not to click if we don’t want to take that risk.

A TRIGGER BEING POPULAR DOES NOT MEAN IT IS UNIVERSALLY ACCEPTABLE TO ALL AND THEREFORE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE TAGGED. TAG IT ANYWAY.

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT PEOPLE WITH MISOPHONIA AND SPD EXIST AND WILL SUFFER FROM YOUR NEGLIGENCE IF YOU DON’T TAG THINGS PROPERLY.

I am now going back to one of the few fucking creators I can trust to watch a video that is only half effective anymore because I’ve listened to it so many times just because I know it can be trusted and I can so rarely find a decent, honest video from anyone else.

Good fucking night

I know this is a rant unrelated to anything I’ve ever talked about, and it’s probably something very few people are going to want to hear or be able to easily relate to, but as someone with SPD who listens to ASMR on a relatively frequent basis, I have to say that I am very, very tired of ASMRtists not tagging their videos correctly.

I love ASMR, and I love a lot of the wonderful creators out there, even if not all of them create content I personally can enjoy, because I know there are people out there who do enjoy it and I’m glad those people can find what they need, even if I can’t relate to wanting to listen to those triggers myself.

I mean no disrespect to any ASMRtist in particular when I say this, and I’m sure even the ones guilty of this means absolutely no harm; HOWEVER, again, as someone with SPD for whom hearing certain triggers can either cause an actual headache, extreme anxiety, or other types of terrible agitation and unpleasant — if not genuinely painful — sensations, I find it nonetheless incredibly irresponsible of content creators when they fail to properly label their videos in a way that honestly reflects its true nature.

Given that most ASMRtists do experience ASMR themselves, and there is a very noticeable connection of people who experience ASMR often also having some form of SPD or misophonia, or at the very least just having some trigger they don’t find relaxing and can’t watch, you would think that they would take more care and responsibility in labeling their works as they themselves understand what it can be like to experience this unpleasantness, but apparently you would think wrong — as I’ve encountered very few ASMRtists who actually take the time to get this right, much less many of the most popular ones. Once more, I have nothing against someone creating videos I can’t watch or enjoy; if an ASMRtist wants to always, for example, include mouth sounds in every video they make, that’s fine with me, however, I do have a problem with it when said ASMRtist only labels some or even none of those videos at all as featuring mouth sounds, when, in fact, they all have them. If your video includes mouth sounds, label it. If your video includes tapping, label it. And so on and so forth. Even if it only includes it for a portion of the video, LABEL IT. There are some of us out there who can experience actual pain or other unpleasant effects from your videos if we click on one not realizing you intend to do something other than the trigger you named the video after! I don’t want to click onto your “mic scratching” video to be given a headache with your tapping or given the worst anxiety from your mouth sounds. Just because YOU like a trigger doesn’t mean everyone in the world won’t mind if you include it in your video with 0 warning to your viewers.

The ONLY exception to this rule with needing to label things, I feel, is basic whispering, and only because we have a specific label in the community for videos that don’t feature whispering — “NO TALKING”. If your video doesn’t say no talking, and I click onto it and find talking, that’s a given, it’s expected, I won’t be upset and have no right to be upset because if I truly wanted a “no talking” video, I would have looked for one with that label. It’s a known thing in the community. But every other trigger is an entirely different story. It your responsibility to your viewers as a content creator to LABEL your videos correctly. If you’re using a variety of triggers, tell us that. That’s fine. I don’t care if your videos aren’t for me. I’ll find content elsewhere. But don’t go labeling your videos as being one trigger and then include two in it, or as some of the WORST offenders of all do, label something “pure [trigger]”, as if it is a promise to feature only that, and then include some other sound in it anyway!!!

Stop lying to your viewers, regardless of whether it’s because you don’t think it matters because you like the particular trigger and assume everyone else will, because you don’t feel like labeling everything in it, or you don’t want to lose potential viewers to that video because they might not click if they knew what was in it. It will only make me inherently distrust and be more likely to avoid your content if I find that you do this.

#linklethehistorian #thoughts #non-fandom #rant #asmr #my thoughts

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haven-in-writing · 3 years ago

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To be the knife against his throat

TW- There is a bit of violence throughout each chapter so if that makes you uncomfortable please don't read ahead. I try to put the proper warnings when possible but unfortunately I do tend to forget. As this story progresses I will try to be more aware of this. Thank you beautiful people so much for reading!

Catch up with the first and second chapter if you haven't already!

Tag list as of 9/27/21 @avengerstanforlife, @dark-night-sky-99, @emergenciesstory , @bookscoffeeandracoons, @krystallynx

The following morning everyone in the compound was woken up to loud screams. Well, one loud scream coming from a certain trickster god. The team ran into the kitchen area to see you on top of Loki with a knife hitting his metal cuff attached to his armor. Growling in frustration, you punch his side, as he weakens his grip on your hand that holds the knife, you push further and the tip of said knife touches the base of his neck.

“Y/N NO!” The group collectively shouts as you draw a small amount of blood from the pressure you put on the knife. You lean down next to his face, whispering something that not even Friday could pick up on. His Adam's apple dips as he gulp’s from the assumed threat that was whispered. No one tries to approach you in case you decide to plunge the knife into his throat, but without any warning Loki smirks as a flash of green magic pushes you into a portal and leaves you falling in your ass a good distance from the god.

The inhumane growl that leaves your throat stops everyone in their tracks. Staring him down, Loki puts both hands up as a sign of peace.

“I mean no disrespect lady, I simply wished to not be in such a compromising position,” he explains quickly before your knife could find a home in his body.

“Just stay the hell away from me Loki,” you all but hiss at him before stalking out of the room ignoring the team's questions.

The group surrounding them doesn’t make a move, watching Loki for any signs that he will retaliate as Thor walks as quietly as he can slightly behind you. The two of you walk in silence to your private workshop. No one tried to stop and talk to you, practically feeling the tense energy you were exuding. As you entered the shop, Thor gently closed the door and cleared his throat.

“I know my brother can be infuriatingly frustrating to deal with, I do hope that this flaw of his doesn’t make it unbearable to be around either of us,” Thor finishes his sentiment quickly before you have a chance to speak.

“Thor, I promise I won’t actually kill your brother, I’m sorry you have to deal with this at all. Just- just keep him away from me. Okay?” you quickly continue, “He left me to die once, which only taught me that I can rely on no one. I don’t trust this team, I don’t trust normal people, and I especially don’t trust Loki. So back off.”

You leave Thor standing in the workshop baffled by the raw emotions you had shown in your brief tangent. As quick as you left, Loki entered the shop moments later, a flash of green being the only warning Thor had before he was staring at his brother.

“Lady y/n just left so it would be wise to make your leave quickly as I am unsure of whether she will return here or not,’’ Thor warns quickly and quietly.

“I did not realize she was still alive, I didn’t even bother to give her a proper burial,” Loki says, lowering his head with shame. “It was the least I could have done.”

Without another word, Loki disappears with a flash of green light. Thor breathes out gently and turns to leave the workshop. As he is about to switch off the light, a map on the wall catches his attention. A map he hadn’t seen in over a century, when the nations of Midgard were being claimed and fought over. Any doubts in his brother's memory were long gone with this artifact on the wall encased in glass. It was too frayed and battered to be a replica. With more questions brewing in his mind than ever, Thor shuts the workshop door and with a shake of his head, makes his way to his chambers.

He is so engrossed with his own thoughts, he doesn’t manage to catch the red headed spy lurking in the shadows, having heard every bit of conversation from her post.

Until now things had sailed pretty smoothly with the Avengers. Until now your identity has been easily covered up by half truths and diversions. That was until Loki had to come along and cause chaos as always. At least the lore surrounding him was consistent.

Taking a moment to pause and collect your thoughts, you find a way to minimize the fallout heading your way. The team was gonna find out eventually so why not get ahead of that curve. The only way to do that would be going against your better judgement. The only person that could persuade the Avengers to not completely turn you out. Maybe two people? Why would they not completely dismiss you, after all they were just a rag tag group of superpowered freaks. The amount of times you had saved their butts didn't matter, at the end of the day, you lied to people that trusted you. They would never trust you again.

So who was the better option?

Tony treated you like a daughter, always trying to cheer you up when you were down. Y'all even had a secret handshake. He would be beyond insulted that you didn't share this overwhelmingly important detail of your existence with him. Now on the other hand, Director Fury. Would he even care? As long as you were on the good guys team aka his team, he wouldn't let you be taken away. Right? Or maybe he would want to dissect you like the Hydra vermin had tried oh so many years ago.

Fury, like the team, would have no reason to believe or trust that your intentions were as true as you had once said. An impossible situation for the impossible creature you were. What a dilemma.

Shaking off the thoughts crossing your mind, you text one Tony Stank, the only contact you had listed in your phone besides- well, nevermind it’s not important. What is important is the text you’re about to send. If it’s not worded correctly, Tony would assume the worst and immediately try and track you down.

“Hey Stank-face,” you punch into the old flip phone.

“Why did I even tell you that story,” He texted back quickly.

“Because you were drunk and have no filter, duh,” you smile for a moment but quickly mask your face and continue texting Tony, “I have a favor to ask.”

There’s a brief pause before he replies.

“What’s up?” There’s no hiding your smile now, you can always rely on Tony to pull through.

“Meet me by the burger stand, next to the old warehouse at 5pm?” Nervously picking at your nails while waiting on his response, you notice a black bike peeking around the corner of the alleyway you were across from. Shit.

“Sure thing Jelly-bean, everything OK?” No, not ok but it would be. Just have to get ahead of the fallout.

“Yeah Tones, all good, just got something to talk to you about. I would like for this to stay between us for now if you don’t mind. Gotta go, I’ll see you at 5.” Taking the sim card out of the phone you toss it in the trash bin and start walking, keeping an eye on the little stalker you've managed to catch.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fic #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #avengers #marvel #iron man #natasha romanoff #the avengers #vampire reader #loki x y/n #loki x reader #slow burn #so slow it'll make you hurt #loki x vampire reader #vampire!reader #please reblog if you like this #please reblog

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storiesofsvu · 3 years ago

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Serendipitous Secrets & Surprises Ch 8

Warnings: language, SVU canon related issues including attempted suicide. Fluff otherwise. A/N: Sorry not sorry for dragging this mystery out for eight chapters. Also PLEASE!!!! if you’re going to scream about who the partner is, come to my dm’s/my inbox, or do it in the tags. Cause it’s technically a spoiler, and I had a few people come to me/comment about Seeing Red getting spoiled for them by reblog comments. I personally love seeing y’all scream, but for the sake of other readers...scream in the tags or in private lol. Love you. 😘

Y’all were absolutely so wonderful & kind with the well wishes & love today that you treated me well so I am rewarding you with an early drop of the next chapter. My present to you 😉

You were honestly surprised when the rest of the day went relatively smoothly. You picked up a tray of gourmet coffee for the squad and Carisi on the way back to the precinct, and you were sure that helped the juju a little bit. Amanda and Fin were catching, taking the next case while you and Kat tried to further you work on the Jenna v Zach case. Which meant mindless hours staring at computer and phone screens as you each searched through various social media accounts and dug into more of the back grounds of both of them. Zach’s to see if he had any other complainants and Jenna’s to see if she’d ever accused before (you knew if the defence got any info like that before you guys did, she’d use it, and you’d have little to no warning).

Kat had spent the first half of the day at the campus security office, making sure she had access to as many of Hudson’s complaints as she could, but especially those involving Zach Thompson or any of his closest circle. She’d texted you the names while you dug through profiles to try and link things together. You’d been lucky enough that your only stop out of the office was to drop off those warrants and question one witness before Fin took off for the hour on his own business. It was just before six p.m that you sighed, shutting your laptop, stretching your body out as you stood.

“You finally done?” Kat teased and you laughed. Before you could reply your phone started to buzz, a phone number that you didn’t recognize on the screen.

“Maybe not..” you grumbled, picking it up, “Special Victims?”

“Sergeant Winters?” You heard the panicked voice on the other end and your body tensed, your hand shooting out to alert Kat to get ready to bolt, “you told me to call if anything happened with Jenna?”

“April? Yeah, yeah I did sweetie, what’s going on?”

“I just got back to the dorms, the people underneath us say the ceiling’s been leaking water and I can’t get into the room, the door’s blocked.”

“Okay, we’ll be right there, don’t worry honey.” You turned the phone away from your mouth, “Kat, let’s go!”

“Please hurry!”

“We will!” Was all you managed to get out before April hung up. As you were racing to the stairwell Olivia nearly stopped you.

“Whoa, Winters, don’t you have somewhere to be?” She reminded you of the anniversary dinner, as if you’d forget at this point.

“Trust me, she’ll understand!”

You tossed the keys to Kat as you reached the street, telling her to throw the lights and sirens on, and hoping she could drive as well as you’d imagined, you knew you needed to get there fast. Meanwhile your hand quickly called your wife, sighing softly as she picked up

“Hey baby…”

“Something came up didn’t it?” She replied, hearing the sound of the siren over your voice.

“Yeah. I just got a distress call from a vic’s roommate, I don’t know how long this is going to take, but I doubt I’ll make it, at least not dressed properly. Baby I am so sorry.”

“I get it. You go do your job.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help the small smile, “I love you, so much. Happy anniversary baby. I’ve gotta call a bus though, I’ve got to go.” Again, you couldn’t help the smile at the sound of her laugh, knowing that you probably should’ve done your job first but couldn’t help updating your love first.

“I love you more than life. Happy anniversary sweetheart. I’ll see you at home.” You swiftly repeated the words before calling who you needed repeating the information that you were aware of as Kat swerved around the corner.

“You sure you’re wife’s okay with this? I really could’ve taken someone else.”

“I’ll buy her something pretty.” You waved it off, “besides she’s probably still at the firm. I swear she works more than I do.” You had enough time to comment that before your 9-1-1 call went through and you specified the coordinates and your best memory of the dorm building, saying their were plain clothed detectives on scene.

Jenna’s door had been blocked by a chair, on top of being locked, but between the man power of you and Kat together you’d broken it down. You figured the over running water was coming from the bathroom, not surprised to find her in the tub, though she was surrounded by pill bottles. It was at your instinct and expertise in narcotics that Kat lugged her out of the tub while you swiftly gloved up, checking at what she’d taken as Kat checked for Jenna’s pulse. You swiftly moved her onto the floor before you administered the narcan and she very blearily came to. Since you’d taken first aid action before EMS had arrived you were the one required to ride along, you assured Kat you were fine with a late night, prompting her to stay there and take statements.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long at Mercy, you were known to a couple of the nurses, and they knew you were more than knowledgeable with the subject. You discovered more details of what Jenna had done, and you spoke to her briefly, wanting her to be able to actually get some rest, while Kat got statements from her roommate and the neighbours beneath her and across the hall. It was only after checking in with Kat that you decided it was safe to call it a night. Knowing Jenna herself was alive was all you needed. You didn’t need to pressure her anymore, reminding hospital staff of that, and that she needed to take her meds, and to call you with any issues, before you finally flagged a cab home.

The comfort of your apartment sunk over you the instant you stepped inside, you stepped out of your shoes, groaning at the feeling of bare feet on the floor for the first time all day. Part of you should’ve known better than to wear brand new heels to work, even if you had been promised a day of desk work.

“You finally home?” A voice called and you followed it into the kitchen, tossing your blazer onto an empty chair.

“Yeah.” You let out a heavy sigh, “but that doesn’t mean work’s over quite yet.” You tossed the folded blue paper onto the kitchen island.

“What’s this?” Rita asked softly, her hands opening it to read through the words.

“An OOP for Jenna against the Thompson’s.”

“What the hell happened?” Her face shot up to yours, taking in the dejected expression on your as your shoulders dropped again.

“After whatever meeting you had with them this morning, from what we got from neighbours and a barely conscious Jenna, Mrs Thompson showed up at the dorm. She was beyond angry, yelling and screaming at Jenna about how she was a murderer. She tried to kill herself, she’ll be at Mercy for a few days, but even on her meds she’s unstable, there’s no way you’ll be able to take her trial anytime soon.” You let out a heavy sigh, “it’s just..worse than normal. Jenna will never get her day in court, never get to see her rapist go down, instead she’s suddenly the perp, it’s like she doesn’t get any kind of justice for this.”

“It’s not your fault darling.” Rita’s hand stroked at your arm and you sighed,

“I know.” You gave her a soft smile, leaning in for a quick kiss, “but it is my fault for missing dinner. I’m so sorry baby. I should’ve sent someone else, tonight meant a lot for us, I mean…ten years?”

“Technically only five if you count the married ones.” Rita chuckled softly, pulling you to her as her nose nuzzled against yours.

“Oh and I suppose that makes it any better?” You pecked her gently, “I still owe you one. Besides, we never cancel a night at River Café.”

“Well…” Rita turned away from you, pouring out a second glass of wine for you from the bottle she’d been letting breathe, “when you become regulars at a place like that, they tend to cater to your needs.”

“What’re you talking about?” You smiled.

“When I called to cancel the reservation they knew what day it was. Manager told me to call back whenever you were home or close to home and if they were still open they’d send our regulars over.”

“Rita!” You laughed out, cupping her cheek softly, “that delivery boy better be tipped a hundred percent.”

“Last I heard your Mother was paying for dinner.” She teased and you laughed, swatting at her arm,

“Call the Café, you know where the card is.” You pulled her to you for a gentle kiss, “let me go change. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” You smirked as you kissed the tip of her nose before darting off to the bedroom. You could hear her on the phone, taking your time to change into pyjamas, removing your makeup, returning to the open apartment when you were ready.

“Less than an hour.” Rita stated and you nuzzled into her shoulder at the island.

“Considering their quality I’d expect nothing less.” She chuckled softly, turning to kiss your cheek. Your hand shifted, curling around her cheek to turn her face to yours, “I am really, really sorry for missing tonight.” You leant in to kiss the tip of her nose softly, “and I know you always say you’re fine cause we work the same kinda shit and both of us have bailed on countless dates over the years but…tonight…I should’ve been there.”

“Hey…sweetheart…” Her hand came up to stroke at your cheek, “all I needed was for you to end up at home with me and safe. Hopefully to have dinner, even if it was a two a.m grilled cheese. Jenna actually needed you, and she certainly needed you right away. You were off saving a life, I’m not going to blame you for shit like that, even if the offence is my client.” Your eyes nearly blurred with tears at the true understanding of Rita’s words, you’d always understood each other’s careers over the decade you’d been together, even if those around you didn’t. Even if you worked on opposite sides of the law, you both got it.

“Thank you.” You leant in, kissing her softly, “but I do still owe you. I mean, aside from this morning’s gifts. Should we reschedule dinner?”

“How about next time we’re both free from work we get the best takeout the city can buy and curl up with a movie marathon of our favourites?” Rita suggested, nuzzling against you before pressing a soft kiss to you lips before giggling. “You gonna make me suffer through Legally Blonde again?” She teased and you punched her arm.

“It’s not that bad! You only hate it cause Raf made you watch it in college.” You grumbled and Rita circled her arm around your waist, pulling you to her as she kissed your temple.

“He has a weird obsession.” She laughed, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her, the love flowing through the apartment as your arms circled around her neck.

“I guess everyone has some weird obsessions.”

“You weirdly obsessed with me?” Rita cocked a brow and you scoffed, hitting her arm.

“Rude! You’d think after vowing to be with you til death, you’d know I was obsessed with you.” You laughed, leaning in to kiss her again.

“Oh, so obsessed is the word you’d use.”

“Oh shut up.” You leant in again, your lips meeting Rita’s, the kiss gentle and much more soft this time. Her tongue had barely snuck past your lips when there was a knock at the door. And as much as you wanted to ignore it, you knew it was dinner, and you wanted to experience that, no matter where you were.

While you busied yourself with paying for the take out Rita flitted through the apartment, managing to find a couple of candles hidden away in the bedroom, lighting them and lowering the overhead lights. You scooped the meals onto actual plates instead of eating out of boxes and made sure the wine glasses were refilled and placed with the appropriate plates on the island. Rita went to sneak around you and your hand roped around her waist, pulling her to you with a quiet giggle of a yelp. Your arms settled around her shoulders and you kissed her with impeccable softness.

“I love you baby. And I always will. You mean the world to me.” You kissed her again, “happy anniversary.”

“I love you too.” She murmured against your lips, pressing another kiss to you, “and you are, without a doubt the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Happy anniversary.”

_________ @tbhidkwutimdoing @bisexualcrowley @natasha-danvers @ineedafinghug @veteranwerewolf95 @billiedeannovak @stardust-galaxies @laurenhope13 @randomthingssss @Farahs-faeling @imlike-so-gaydude @wannabe-fic-reader @gaylorrds @infiniteoddball @thatesqcrush @altsvu @disneyfan624 @svulife-rl @svushots @gay-ass-bitch @lesbianspacecowboy @delphineecormierr @venablemayfairgoode @whimsicallymad @mysticfalls01 @oliviaswifey @thatgaygiraffesquirrelgirl @Cloudymd @swimmingstudentchaos891 @1000spices @screenee @nocreditinthestraightworld @beccabarba @redlipstickandplaid @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @denpine14 @molllss @wosoimagines @solemnnova @lawandorderimagines @infernumlilith @yourtaletotell @Aprylrxse @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @whispered-tear-drops @snowsgay19 @michael-rooker @jj-arms @emskisworld

#law and order svu #svu #serendipitous Secrets and surprises

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Real Friends

Valkyrae & Reader (Male)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: SMAU, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following an accidental and not very consensual face reveal, Y/N’s dealing the sudden shift of the spotlight on him even more than it was before. Being the big deal he is on social media, the internet has every right to be freaking out. Luckily, he’s got a friend to help him cope with it all.

Requested by @iawaythrown Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry for how long it has taken me to complete your request and post it but here it finally is. I’ve never written a SMAU before so this isn’t the classic SMAU format but I still hope you’ll enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Imagine you end a toxic relationship of almost a year and go to bed feeling like a ton of bricks has been lifted off you, like you can finally breathe properly and like you’re finally getting a taste of freedom. The very freedom you chose to lose by getting in the toxic relationship in the first place. Of course, I didn’t know it was toxic at the time, probably cause it wasn’t, but it gradually turned into a nightmare.

A nightmare that keeps haunting me even after I thought I had put an end to it.

Apparently, that was wishful thinking cause I woke up this morning to find an unbelievable number of notifications and messages from friends, family and my manager and associates. Being in the music industry as a faceless creator, I keep my circle tight and it only consists of people I can trust so to see them all freaking out at me at once, even the most level-headed ones, freaked me out too. Quickly, I opened the first notification I reflexively tapped on and it opened a post in which someone had tagged me.

A picture taken of me while I was asleep, no doubt one taken by my ex. That being said, I think we can all have a guess at who posted it in the first place. I didn’t listen to my manager when he told me to not allow anyone I trust 1000% into my inner circle. I was foolish and at the peak of my career, feeling on top of the world and feeling invincible which was rare for me. I’ve always been insecure about many things in my life, growing up with a lot of judgy people made me be that way. Not to mention that I didn’t want to be the victim of the internet’s racism either. People turn a blind eye most of the time, but it’s still there, it still exists and looms over all social media platforms, disturbing people’s peace left and right. You see, I didn’t want people to have an opinion of my art based on my appearance or associations with other creators. I’m pretty good friends with many content creators, especially in the gaming industry, but I’ve never wanted to be put in a box as one of the many friends of someone famous. I made a name for myself without anyone knowing who I am exactly.

And now they all know because of this photo that my ex sent to float down the rivers of hungry social media:

Damn am I gonna get an earful from my manager or what. It’s still rater early though and I’m really not about to deal with this drama on a caffeine-free brain so if there are any calls, emails or messages that need answering - and yes, there are PLENTY of them - they’ll all have to wait until I feel like dealing with them. I’m glad I don’t have to keep up this unbothered charade at home since I live alone cause I seriously don’t feel ok with this. I mean, I could probably report it, but what use would that be when my brand now has a face and a huge chunk of my privacy has already surfaced against my will.

As I sit in my kitchen, sipping my coffee, I finally gather the nerve to at least scroll through the notifications that I’ve received. Fans reaching out, relatives, friends, pissed off people that are there just to exist and try to disturb my peaceful existence but all they’re gonna get is a hard DELETE from me. I have offers on top of offers for modeling pending, waiting on my response. I’ve never considered it, being a faceless creator and all, but my manager will definitely want to milk some cash from this too. That thought makes me sigh in defeat. I have no one to blame but myself for trusting my ex. No one made me do it, no one made me let them in, but I still did, fucking myself over insanely. Just like they’ve now fucked me over.

Amongst the sea of notifications and yet to be opened messages, one in particular stands out and makes me do a double take. It’s a message from my friend Rae - Valkyrae, as she’s known online. She’s one of those gamer friends I mentioned earlier, probably the one I’m closest with. Her and I talk on the regular so seeing a message from her in my inbox is nothing unusual so I wonder why that was the one that stuck out to me. Regardless, that’s the only one I feel like opening and replying to at the moment.

V ~ Hey Y/N, you doing ok? This all must be really hard on you so don’t feel obligated to reply. Do so when you can or want to. I’m here if you wanna talk

Of course Rae would be the one to know how I truly feel in a situation like this. I can act and cover up all I want but she knows exactly what’s underneath the surface of my façade. That third eye friends have for each other, it’s incredible.

Me ~ Doing ok. Wasn’t expecting to wake up to this but now that millions of people know what I look like it feels oddly bittersweet, you know? Like I don’t have to go out of my way to hide anymore but I’m also gonna miss that privacy I had while I was a phantom

Me ~ On the upside: people want me to be a model now XD

My message goes to Seen almost write away, the Typing icon appearing shortly after the messages were read. I wait for Rae’s reply, sipping my slowly cooling coffee with little interest due to how invested I am in our conversation. If there’s a person who can make light of this situation, it’s Rae, no doubt about it.

V ~ I know what you mean. It’s not gonna be easy to adjust to but you will get used to it eventually. I’m sure you’ll even grow to like it. Promise you, it’s not that scary to be exposed, there’s literal millions of people who support you wholeheartedly :)

V ~ Us, your friends, are here too! Never forget that, we’ve always got your back, Y/N!

V ~ Oh and you really should be a model! Whoever’s saying that has got the right idea. Maybe don’t fear this new change, but embrace it! Take this new turn in your life confidently. Sure, it was out of the blue, but do you really want the person who exposed you to feel the satisfaction of bringing you down? That doesn’t sound like you at all tbh

The epiphany strikes me as soon as Rae’s words sink in as I read them. She’s 100% right. The last thing I want is for my ex to think they’ve won. I refuse to give them the pleasure of tasting victory on the expense of my mental health and career progress. In fact, imma show them just how much they benefited me. But first...

Me ~ Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this eye-opener

Me ~ I owe you one <3

I sure as hell owe her one, but for now I have other battles to win.

Rifling through my gallery, I find one more recent picture and without a shred of doubt or hesitation, I go straight to Instagram to post it.

~ “Since y’all were curious...And since y’all wanna see me model, you’re welcome” ~

Within seconds likes and comments start flowing in like a riptide, taking over my phone that, despite being charged all night, is already at half of its battery life.

I refresh the page with the post to look at the new comments that have come through, all supportive and complimenting me, some are real thirsty and some are incredibly kind. And even in that sea, her comment still sticks out to me, making me grin like an idiot.

“That’s what I was talking about! Work it, Y/N!“

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

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"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

--------------

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

-----------------

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #not my yacht #raul esparza

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