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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years ago

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Protect The Queen Pt.1 (Geralt x Reader)

This is just becoming addictive at this point, I love writing about this cause there are so many different scenarios and possibilities you could write about. Also there might be a part two for this so please let me know if you would be interested in it. Enjoy!

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, it was almost time for her to take her future in her own hands, to rise to the occasion and take back her life. Her gaze fell to the ring she was wearing, it was passed on to her when she married the king of Orkney, she barely had taken a step into womanhood at the time her parents announced her marriage to her, such a shame that she spend such youthful years in a castle with a man that didn't even think about her, it was pure and also embarrassing for (y/n) to look back at her naive and selfless younger self.

“Oh, you are awake”

“I was waiting for you my dear”

She answered to her husband, her voice dripping honey for the first time in years. Their marriage was far from happy, (Y/n) had thought since she was to become his wife he would treat her with kindness, unfortunately that was not the case, he saw her just as a vessel for his children, when that seemed to not happen he fell to the arms of concubines and commoners, making her become this cold, distant wife he deserved. Sometimes she would wonder if maybe she had given him the heir he craved that maybe his behavior would change, that however was crushed by gratefulness she felt for her womb for not bring a child in this loveless household. She would have never forgiven herself if she raised a child that did not see their parents share at least one hug.

“What’s the cause of you lingering in our room (y/n)?”

“To celebrate, here my king”

She offered him the glass of wine she was holding on her left hand, it was filled with his favorite wine. Her husband took it and gave her a puzzled look, whenever he would sleep in the same room with her- which wasn’t often- he would find her asleep.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday dear”

He was left confused at her smile and statement. It couldn’t be, they held a public celebration for her birthday every year, it was protocol for the queen to allow the public in the castle for her special day. The clink of the glasses echoed around the room, she brought the glass to her lips and took a light sip

“Come on dear, drink up. You were never one to shy away from a glass of wine”

She pushed the glass from the bottom up to his lips. He did not understand the cause of all this, yet whatever the case was she was right, the moment he tasted the delicious wine he took three gulps and the glass went from full to half empty.

“Excellent, I’m glad you enjoyed the wine my king, careful,.. the choking will probably start any minute now”

“My queen, we have been waiting for you to... rise for so long”

“Perfection takes time”

She answered to her most trusted confident,her coronation was something that would remain in history for centuries, she was adored by the public so when she inherited the crown after her last husband, everyone knew they were in safe hands. That does not mean the rumors did not arise to the situation, the late king was a healthy young man, it was very suspicious how he fell to darkness overnight.

She meant what she told him when she mentioned her birthday, that day she shed away her foolish acts and was reborn, a woman that stood strong in the field of womanhood, ready to take what’s hers whether people liked it or not.

She looked around the room, seeing her people enjoy their night and drink to her name felt so natural to her, she was meant to lead.

“Excuse me just for a moment, I want to get closer to my people”

“As you wish my queen”

As she started going around at a slow pace she did her best to observe her people, they seemed to enjoy themselves, they acted like the king never existed, like the soil on top of him had been thrown decades ago, she smiled at herself while thinking that she acted in a way her people wanted, pleasing them and herself with just a few drops of that special liquid.

It was then that she noticed the back of a tall man, his long white hair and his armor stood out from the others, she also took note that he was accompanied by a much smaller and probably younger man that was holding a lute. It couldn’t be? The infamous white wolf and his barb at her coronation?

“What are we doing here Jaskier?”

“Celebrating the queen officially getting the crown after her husbands oh so sudden death”

Jaskier was fascinated by her history, a princess known for her noble nature and beauty, he reminisced of the song he had heard about her, she was the master of horses, the late king had met her when she rode the most stubborn and difficult horse in the royal stable, married to the king at her prime and failing at giving him an heir.

He was surprised she got to kill him first before the late king did, not only that but she is now the one sitting on the thrown after the kings death under some suspicious circumstances.

“sudden death? hmm, I believe the king found out that his destiny was a woman in a harsh way”

“Every mans destiny is a woman.... Witcher”

As he heard the voice from behind him he turned around to see to whom it belonged to. Jaskier’s mouth formed a big “O” when he was met with the queen, Geralt figured out who she was by the crown sitting on her head. The first thing she noticed was his yellow eyes, she found them so captivating, unique, she had never seen a witcher from up close, it was also just her luck that brought her the most handsome one.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, he was at her celebration, talking badly about the queen herself, he knew the consequences he just didn’t know if the queen would choose torture or immediate death as the penalty

“Queen (y/n), my apologies, Geralt has had a bit too much to drink, please spare him”

Jaskier might be a bit overly giddy at the wrong time, however that did not mean that what Geralt ha implied could make the queen want his head right then and there. As Jaskier bowed at her, she only let a small smile appear on her lips, softening her features towards the men that both looked distressed, she had to admire that she felt a bit of pride of making the witcher eat his words, judging by his reputation that did not happen every day.

“It’s alright, I know what the people are saying about me, it’s understandable”

“Understandable? Shouldn’t the queen rush to protect her reputation?”

“That’s what kings do when they feel their ego getting bruised, look around you Geralt, what do you see? The same people that have spread those accusations are dancing and yelling “long live the queen”, if anything my new found reputation is more promising”

Geralt was immediately interested, it wasn’t often that a queen would be alright with rumors and of such kind being passed around, as well as taking it as an advantage and being pleased about it.

“Elaborate please”

“The kings of other towns will hear those rumors, now who would dare come and threaten the woman that killed her own husband for power? Only a mad man would risk coming to my home”

She was smart, cunning. Geralt had met people of royalty and understood exactly what she meant when she talked about fragile egos. On the contrary, she stood tall and proud, took advantage of the people that gave her a new source of power without them even knowing it. The essence of her as a human being could only be described as being royal, a woman of luxury that men would probably kill for just a glimpse of her naked skin

It only made him question the late king, how could he have wronged such a woman? was maybe her standards that were two high? or was it an act of revenge? Geralt felt the need to puff out his chest as an act of bravery, she was a quite tall woman and if you match that with the way she carried herself, it was a death mix, the late king was already one of the victims of it

“You mean that you are going to become other kings destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny, what destiny is varies depending on the people you ask, for my parents my destiny was to become an obedient queen and give birth to the heir, a child that shared the same blood with my late husband”

She said mildly disgusted, as a widower she would probably have to grieve, linger in her room and cry behind close doors at the loss of her love. It seems like nobody even noticed how she did none of that, like it was normal for her to through a celebration a few weeks after his death in her name, not only that but the people seemed to love it. Geralt gave her a smirk at her smart and a bit intriguing answer.

“Then what do you think is your destiny”

“To be in charge of my and my peoples future, destiny and fate are nothing in front of the power of a woman”

The way she talked about destiny showed how she truly embodied confidence and stability, she feared nothing, not even her future self, she only relied on her power. As she talked to him he couldn’t help but let his eyes look mostly towards her lips, her painted lips that moved in such hypnotic way, he felt compelled by her.

Jaskier just stood there watching the two people talk like they are long lost friends. The queen so many people felt uneasy just by her presence was now having a casual conversation with the witcher. Geralt was slowly but surely gaining respect for her, she was a woman of power, a woman that used her brain and situations to her advantages and held herself accountable for her future, she was a true queen.

Geralt smiled at her genuinely, he had met her late husband in the past, he recalled him being stubborn and stuck up, raising his nose at others that he thought were less than him. If he was alive there was no way he would find him walking around commoners

“hmmm, Well queen (y/n), I am sure your people will be safe with you leading this land”

“I hope that in the future I can count on you for aid”

“About what?”

“Danger of course”

She took one step closer to him, still keeping eye contact with Geralt. As he took in a deep breath he could smell the scent of lavender off of her, her hair shined underneath the light of the flames and her eyes glistered with confidence and pride, she was the definition of strength, just her look brought Geralt into defense mode, waiting for her words and thinking how should he respond correctly to her before she even opened her mouth.

The skill of demanding attention and respect so silently was one that the very few of people that did had it were considered blessed, even though he was aware of that skill, still he had yet to meet one... until he met her.

“Loneliness can be an awfully dangerous thing”

She whispered just loud enough for only him to hear, as the other villagers laughed and sang around them, not even noticing that their queen was standing a few inches away from them, as well as being promiscuous to a witcher.

“I would be honored to protect the queen”

“I’m glad you feel that way, I’m sure you could be a great ally for me, geralt of rivia”

PART 2

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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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Timid-Arthur Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @queenofhelldarlin)

Tags: @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: '[1/2] Do you still write for Peaky Blinders? If so, can I request a scenario where the reader is a long time family's friend and all the boys likes her but never tried anything, but it's been a while since she timidly hugged Arthur and began to be affectionate with him and hasn't stopped since, despite he never pushing her away she thought he accepted cause he thought it was platonic (even if the guy wouldn't like people hugging him without wanting to be with him, I imagine)...[2/2] but she finds out that it wasn't platonic when John and Tommy notices how she treats Arthur differently and they get jealous, which causes Arthur to snap and finally let they know that you are somehow his. If possible, can you write Arthur loving the attention reader gives him, being pampered by the reader and loving how clingy she is to him[in this same request]? I just want to see/read this man happy.'

Characters: Arthur Shelby x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader (platonic), John Shelby x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Swearing, jealousy, arguing, fluff

(A/N: I didn't fully understand the request, but I think I got the jist of it, so I hope it's OK!)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)." a young man called out, tipping his hat to her as she passed.

She timidly smiled, ducking her head immediately after. (Y/N) appreciated the kindness from people, but didn't need all that attention. However, the respect she had wasn't all down to her sweet demeanour and caring heart; she was basically part of the Shelby dynasty, and no one dared fuck with her. Those who did clearly didn't know who she was.

She entered the Garrison, shivering as the warmth spread over her body. Small Heath had never been generous with warm weather. As she took off her coat, she scanned the pub, wondering if any of the boys were at the bar. Of course, they weren't, and she let herself into the private room. To her surprise, they weren't there either. The small serving door opened, Harry's head popping through.

"Tommy said they'll be here a bit later than expected, but said you should stay in here. You know how rowdy it is on Friday nights." he explained.

"Thank you Harry."

He presented a bottle of wine and a glass."As usual, these are for you."

She graciously took them, waiting for Harry to close the doors before settling into the booth and pouring out a big glass. The noise from the punters was muffled, though still loud, yet it was somehow background noise for (Y/N) now, especially since she had grown up here.

Along with the Shelby brothers, she would come into the Garrison just aged fifteen, drinking underage and coming home drunk. But at that point in their lives, it was teenagers being teenagers. But now they were grown up, and still closer than ever.

The door finally opened, Tommy and John waltzing in. She stood and instantly hugged them, receiving the same loving embrace back from both. They sat down, and Arthur arrived a few seconds later, smoothing down his suit. (Y/N) was still standing, and for some reason, she went for a hug with him too. Arthur had never been much of a lover, so was surprised when he felt (Y/N)'s arms wrap around him. Reluctantly, he hugged her back, awkwardly patting her as he avoided eye contacts with his brothers, both sniggering at him.

That had been the point where things started changing. Tommy and John had brushed off the hug, it was in the moment for them both, but when they started noticing more 'affectionate' touches, they grew suspicious.

For instance, they remember seeing (Y/N) and Arthur in Polly's kitchen; Polly had set up a dinner that was supposed to bring peace to another argument within the family, though of course, that didn't go to plan.

"Arthur?" (Y/N) said, catching his attention as he poured himself another drink.

He silently acknowledged her, downing his whiskey.

"At least we got through dinner before all hell broke loose." she tried to joke.

"Well, we're fuckin' Shelbys, aren't we? It was bound to happen."

She stood by him, looping her arm through his."Still, you need to stick together. Things are heating up around here."

Arthur noticed the closeness, but didn't push her away."Eh, I've got nothin' to do with this. Tom's in charge."

"You've still got your opinion though Arthur." her head rested below his shoulder, too short to reach.

"Nah, not me." he smirked.

"Yes you." she smiled up at him, and the connection in their eyes was obvious.

Polly saw the two brothers spying through the small opening of the door, silently sneaking up on them before clicking her fingers in their faces. Annoyed at the gesture, John and Tommy frowned as she instructed them to move along, without saying a word. They piled into the living room, Polly shutting the door behind her.

"You two are not going to ruin this for your brother." she exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"Ruin what?" John scoffed.

"Jealousy isn't always flattering boys."

"Jealousy?" Tommy repeated, looking at his younger brother."Jealousy eh?"

"Deny it all you want, but it's completely obvious. You've all had a thing for her since your hormones kicked in. It just so happens that she is only interested in one of the Shelby brothers."

"You don't think that's serious do you?" John said.

"You tell me. You're the ones who have been spying on them all this time."

The door suddenly clicked open, all three of them instantly shutting up. Arthur poked his head round the door.

"I'm uh, just taking (Y/N) home." he explained.

"Alright love." Polly smiled, which made Arthur feel somewhat unnerved.

(Y/N) walked in, already wearing her coat and carrying her handbag."Thank you for dinner Pol, delicious as usual."

The women hugged, and (Y/N) did the same for the other brothers, warning them to get this mess cleaned up as soon as possible. As soon as they left, John and Tommy raced to the window, watching Arthur walk her to the end of the street. They wanted to point out that she could have gone herself, she lived so close and it was still light outside. Polly groaned at them before leaving, fed up with their antics. The men o served their brother's posture, how unusually relaxed he was, and he was laughing. (Y/N) stood in her doorway, that beautiful smile spreading across her face as she nodded her head towards the house. Arthur seemed flustered, and to their shock, he walked inside the house!

"It's no use," John sighed,"I think we've fuckin' lost her Tom."

Tommy didn't reply, he didn't want to admit how right he was.

As the weeks went on, Tommy and John became infuriated at just how affectionate (Y/N) was towards Arthur. She would now kiss him on the cheek as a greeting, she would cosy up to him in the Garrison, she would ask him to walk her home almost all the time, specifically just him.

"Come on then, spit it out." Ada demanded

She had invited (Y/N) round to hers, they had not been able to spend any time together, but she was also curious about the situation with her oldest brother.

"Hm?" (Y/N) sipped her tea.

"What's made you more confident all of a sudden?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stop fucking avoiding the topic (Y/N)." Ada smiled as she rolled her eyes."You and Arthur!"

"There's nothing going on there, trust me."

Ada noticed the saddened expression."You sound disappointed."

"I mean..."

(Y/N) held back, unsure of what to say. She couldn't hide anything from Ada, the girl was like a professional interrogator. Looking away from her, (Y/N) found it easier to ramble.

"I have always been one of the most awkward people when it comes to any kind of flirting. Sure, get a few drinks down me and I'm rearing to go, but I would turn into an alcoholic if I chose that solution. For some reason, it just seems easy with Arthur. And I don't think it has anything to do with growing up together, otherwise I would be more confident around your other brothers. I just see into Arthur a little more, I understand him, and I know how disgustingly sweet that sounds. But I don't think he sees me in the same way, not from what I gathered anyway."

"And you just had to choose a man who is as equally as awkward as you." Ada chuckled.

(Y/N) smiled in agreement.

"So what are you going to do about it?”

“I need to speak with him.”

Tommy poured out another glass of whiskey, thinking about what Polly had said. It had been three days since the dinner, and there was a lot on his mind; tension in the family was still high, he had a problem on his hands that seemed impossible to solve, and he was still watching how Arthur was sneakily taking away (Y/N) from him. John and Tommy had seemed to form an alliance for now, but they would also have to fight it out in the end.

Arthur walked into the private room in the Garrison, greeting his brothers as he sat, taking the glass that was already filled with whiskey. He settled back into his seat, only realising the stares he was receiving.

"What's going on? Eh, what have I missed?" he asked.

"Mate, what the fuck is going on with you and (Y/N)?" John boldly said.

Arthur was confused."What you on about you prick?"

"Arthur, we just want the truth. It's not fair that you've been the one to take (Y/N) when neither of us have even had a chance."

Arthur laughed."You fuckin' what?"

"We know, alright," John snapped,"and its not a fair game."

"A fair game?" Arthur breathed out before shouting."A fair. Fucking. Game?!"

They were taken back by Arthur's sudden change of tone.

Arthur sat up straight, that terrifying look in his eyes."I would never mess around with that girl! She's been a part of our family for fuckin' years, and you're being disrespectful."

Tommy and John glanced wide eyed at each other.

Arthur stood, though it was clear in his body language he wasn't exactly thinking before he spoke."You two think I'm taking advantage of her? That we're all in competition?"

Nothing was said.

"Well you're fucking right about one thing. I do lover her, I fuckin' love her because she's always been there, and she's the only one who is ever real around me. Even you two treat me different sometimes."

Tommy tried to butt in."Arthur-"

"No! No, you don't get to say nothin'. I'm off."

The boys called after him, though Arthur was quick to escape. In a fury, he stormed his way to (Y/N)'s house, not even taking a second to think about it. As he approached her front door, he tried to calm himself down as he knocked, not wanting to scare (Y/N). She opened the door, initially smiling before it turned into a worrying look.

"Arthur? Are you alright?" she moved aside to let him in, closing the door quickly.

Arthur tensed up, and he couldn't stay still, fidgeting as he spoke."The boys know."

"Know about us?"

"Yeah."

"OK, I know we wanted to tell them ourselves, but it's not that bad."

"Nah, it's not that love. It's...they've just made me realise something."

"What?"

"I fuckin' love you, you know."

(Y/N) smiled."I know. Arthur I-"

"You just treat me right. I mean, you knew growing up that I hated affection cause of what happened with mum and dad. But it's different with you. I want it. I want you to hold me, I want you to kiss me in public. You make me feel like a real man at last."

"Arthur." (Y/N) stood in front of him, holding his hands as she gently kissed him. She noticed his shoulders drop."I love you. And you don't know how happy it makes me to see you like this."

"You're happy right?"

"Yes, and I always will be as long as you're with me."

"What about Tom and John?"

She shook her head laughing."As much as I love them, they stood no chance against you."

He smirked."Yeah, too fuckin' right."

"I also feel free now. It was so hard to even talk to other men yet...there was just something about you that made me relaxed."

"I've left them in the Garrison. They won't be looking for me anytime soon." Arthur suggestively whispered.

"I hope you didn't come here to slide into bed with me."

"No love, but it's a bonus, isn't it?"

"Of course it fucking is."

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saltlampsasuke · 4 years ago

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Unfortunately, You Are Experiencing Symptoms of Falling in Love: Part 4

Having your long-term boyfriend cheat on you is pretty bad, but you're lucky enough to have a rich, pro-hero best friend who lets you move in with him until you get a new apartment. Except lockdown happens. And you can't look for a new apartment anymore, and you can't go anywhere anymore, and neither can your best friend, and you think you might be falling a little bit in love with him. Or maybe you've been in love with him all along.

The story of how it takes a nationwide lockdown for you and Bakugou Katsuki to finally get together, part 4!

warnings: Coronavirus mentions

wordcount: 2,208

taglist: @stargazerunlimited @luna-bloodrose @lov4kbg

I’m not as happy with this chapter as I’d like to be and I know it took a bit longer than I said to get it out but I hope you all still enjoy it! We’re getting closer to the actual lockdown part of the story so I’m excited to start writing that! Also thank you all so much for giving me over 100 followers it really means a lot to see you all enjoying my work! Much love!

Bakugou woke up early, per his usual schedule, but a bit more sleepy than he normally was. Which was odd, seeing as he always took care to keep himself as healthy as possible so that he wouldn’t slack off on patrol or get tired in a fight. He padded over to his kitchen to make some coffee to wake up, and then maybe he would have time to hit the gym before work. But something was bothering him. What was he forgetting?

When he saw that the door to his guest room was closed, he remembered. How could he have forgotten? The events of last night came rushing back to him. Your call, the drive over, dinner, you sleeping in his room. He carefully walked over to “your” room, and pushed the door open gently, just a bit. There you lay, asleep, with a peaceful smile on your face. In his clothes. In his bed. Bakugou felt a weird pull in his chest at the sight of you. Seeing you in his clothes felt weird, not at all like how he had imagined. And he couldn’t lie, he had thought of you asleep in his house more times than he’d like to admit, but this was nowhere close to the scenario he had imagined previously. For starters, the reality was a lot more PG.

Not that he should be thinking about anything like that. If anything, you were even more off limits than you had been before when you were dating Takumi. It would be completely scummy of him to take advantage of you while you were so vulnerable. You had called him in a time of need, and he was going to be there for you, no matter how his heart pulled at his chest at the thought of YOU. In his HOUSE. He hated to admit it, but you made him feel things sometimes. But he wasn’t going to think about it, and he definitely wasn’t going to do anything about it. There were bigger things to worry about.

Bakugou checked the clock. The sunrise was just starting to blossom from a peek over the horizon to a full bloom of light, and he wanted to get the day started as soon as he could. Just the thought of your stuff sitting in that bastard’s apartment had him raging internally. If Bakugou had his way, you would be gone before Takumi even came back. Hopefully the bastard would never know what had happened, and he would leave you alone.

Bakugou tossed his normal morning smoothie ingredients into the blender, not pressing the button yet out of concern for disturbing your sleep. He could blend the smoothie later. You had to sleep, and while you slept, he would make breakfast. French toast, to be exact. With some strawberries and whipped cream, just the way you always ordered it from the diner you two would frequent when your various schedules permitted you to hang out. Maybe he would even be able to locate some powdered sugar in his Very Healthy cupboards to sprinkle on top. It was only after he had produced four perfectly golden-brown French toast slices, artfully decorated and arranged at the kitchen counter with a fresh glass of orange juice sat next to them that he pressed the button to blend his breakfast and wake you up.

The sound of whirring and grinding was successful in pulling you from your slumber. You stretched in bed, feeling more rested and comfortable than you had felt in a long time. Even the harsh sound of the blender wasn’t overtly disturbing, as you blinked slowly and stretched. You checked your watch. It was still early, but late enough that you were going to be late for your normal work start time. Not that it mattered all the much, you were more of a freelance worker than anything, and Katsuki was your main client, only trusting you with his gear. Your other work would wait for a few days while you figured out the new direction your life had taken. You walked out into the spacious apartment to see Bakugou leaning on the counter, drinking a smoothie.

“Eat,” he barked, pointing at the meal he had made for you on the counter. You looked up at him, still dressed in his clothes. He had to work to keep his expression steady

“Wait, you made this for me?”

“Well princess, I don’t see anyone else in here and it sure as fuck isn’t for me, so eat. I want to get out of here by 9.” You nodded, a big grin on your face, and dug in to the delicious meal that sat before you. Katsuki had always been a great cook, as you knew well from the few times he deigned to make something for you and the rest of the gang, but he had truly outdone himself this time. Everything was perfect, and you had to thank him.

“Katsuki, this is fantastic! I haven’t had something this good in months!” you exclaimed. He rolled his eyes in response.

“It’s not that big a deal, this kinda shit is easy. Now sit down and eat. No talking with your mouth full.” You laughed gently at his response

“I’m serious, this is so good, you have to try some.” You cut off a piece and pushed it towards the edge of the plate, urging him to take it. He shook his head.

“It’s not for me.”

“ You made it, Katsuki. Eat the damn bread. One bite isn’t going to dissolve your abs.” You could hear him choke back a laugh as he drained the rest of his smoothie.

“Fine. One bite.” He picked the small piece off your plate and popped it into his mouth. “You were right. It is good.” You smiled.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Just go fucking get ready. Your clothes from last night are outside your room. We need to get going.”

You got ready to head back to your apartment as quickly as you could, and Katsuki drove you over. The closer you got, the more nervous you felt. Your chest tightened up, making it difficult to breathe, and after Katsuki parked his car and stepped out, you tried and failed to do the same. He opened the door and looked down at you.

“What’s going on?” You refused to meet his eyes as you felt his gaze burn down on you.

“I’m nervous. I’m worried that if I go back inside he’ll be in there. I don’t want to see him again,” you confessed. You felt Katsuki’s gaze grow slightly less intense.

“He’s not gonna be there. You and I both know he’s too much of a coward to come back for a week, and you need to put him out of your mind. I don’t want to hear the shitty bastard’s name ever again after today. We’re gonna get your stuff, and then we’re never gonna come back. And if he is here, he won’t be for long, I can promise you that. Now get up. We have to go see Shitty Hair and Tape Face.”

The mention of your friends brightened your mood considerably. Katsuki was right. It was best if you just put “that bastard” out of your mind completely. Today would be a big step towards that. Your eye was drawn to bright red hair and frantically waving arms in front of the door to your building. Kirishima and Sero! The two men walked over to you.

“Fionnuala! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed Kirishima.

“Yeah, even if it’s not under the best circumstances it’s really great to see you,” added Sero. You smiled sheepishly.

“It’s good to see you guys, too!” you said happily, nerves disappearing at the sight of your friends. Kirishima pulled you into one of his trademark hugs, and you let yourself sink into his embrace.

“I think I’m ready to go inside,” you mumbled into Kirishima’s chest, and he released you from his grip. The four of finally stepped inside the building, and you stayed close to Katsuki as you made your way to your former home.

The door unlocked with ease, and Katsuki stood with you as Sero and Kirishima checked the rooms for any sign of that bastard’s presence. As hoped, he wasn’t there. Now all that you had to do was grab your things and go. Kirishima and Sero had kindly brought over some boxes for you to put your stuff in, and since you weren’t planning on taking most of the furniture, Sero’s truck would likely be able to fit all of your stuff in one go. After a quick scan, you easily located the few pieces of furniture you had brought with you to the apartment, and Katsuki and Kirishima began taking them down to the truck. You made your way into the bedroom, where the majority of your belongings were, and started to pack them and label them with Sero.

Bakugou’s mind was still spinning as he carried your desk out of the building with Kirishima. Just being inside the apartment again was pissing him off. He would never tell you this, but part of him was disappointed that that bastard wasn’t there. Bakugou had a punch with his name written on it. It definitely wouldn’t look good in the press if they found out the number 2 hero had sucker-punched a defenseless guy, but he was sure it would be worth it. Kirishima’s voice brought him out of his violent thoughts.

“So, she’s moving in with you?” Bakugou opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and exhaled.

“Yeah,” he said curtly. Kirishima stared at him.

“And you’ve been in love with her for how long?” Bakugou activated his quirk, slamming his arm down at Kirishima, who quickly hardened his skin out of reflexes developed from years of being friends with Bakugou. “You have to stop doing that, man! What if my quirk didn’t work?” Bakugou refused to meet his eyes.

“I’m not in love with her. She’s my friend, and she needs a place to stay. I’d let you stay at my place if you needed to too. So don’t give me that bullshit.”

“Ok, the second part might be true but the first part definitely isn’t. And you know it. You’re different with her.” Bakugou looked off in the distance thoughtfully.

“It’s none of your business, shitty hair. Shut up about it already,” barked Bakugou. Kirishima sighed. Bakugou had changed a lot since high school, but in many ways he was still the same emotionally constipated jerk he had always been. And Kirishima knew he was right, Bakugou was different with you, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He just hoped that you rooming with Bakugou, even if it was as temporary as Bakugou had been insisting that it was, would finally get you two together. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you two had always been it for each other, no matter how much the two of you refused to admit it, or even realize it. But Kirishima knew.

“Well you’re right, it’s your business man, but if you ever finally admit to yourself that you’re in love with her and want to talk about it, you can give me a call.” Bakugou frowned.

“Can’t admit something that’s not true, shitty hair. Now for real, shut up about it. We need to get the rest of the stuff down so we can say fuck off to this place forever.” Kirishima sighed and acquiesced, knowing that talking about feelings with Bakugou was a harder battle than defeating some of the strongest villains.

The packing went quickly, taking less than 6 hours, and as thought, everything fit in Sero’s truck. Once finished, the four of you stood looking in on the emptier apartment, taking it in for the last time. You were happy to leave this chapter of your life behind you, not wanting to leave any note or explanation behind for that bastard. He didn’t deserve to know what you were doing or where you had gone.

“Alright princess, let’s get out of here,” said Bakugou to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and turning you towards the door. You slipped out from underneath him.

“Wait. Actually, there’s a few more things I think I should take,” you said with a giggle. “Wait right here.” You dashed off into the apartment, grabbing things that the boys couldn’t seem to identify.

“PRINCESS?” mouthed Kirishima, and he felt Bakugou’s red hot stare beam down on him.

“Wait, seriously dude?” chimed in Sero. The only thing that saved Kirishima and Sero from Bakugou’s wrath was your reappearance. The three men peered down at you, finally seeing what was in your hands.

“And if you guys want to hold this for me I can go grab all the toilet paper and utensils too,” you said happily, and they held out their arms to accept the remotes and lightbulbs you had stolen from throughout the house. They all smiled as they realized your devious plan. Bit by bit, it was starting to seem to you like everything was going to be ok.

Author note

TW: violence, murder

Also, as I'm sure many of you have heard, a black man named George Floyd was recently murdered by police in Minnesota. As of my writing this the four officers have been fired but they have yet to be charged. The phone number for district attorney Mike Freeman is 617-348-5550. Please call and demand an investigation. There are also many petitions going around that you can sign,

Also, share any and all info that you can and take whatever other actions you can. Direct action is necessary.

Lastly, if you can afford it, please donate to the NAACP, Black Lives Matter Movement, or the Minnesota Freedom Fund. I donated $10, if you can afford to give anything at all please do. Silence is violence. All this being said, please continue to support and uplift black voices and the communities around you! Thank you!

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dizzydancingdreamer · 5 years ago

Note

Hi!! I saw that requests were open and I just read the Sweater fic and had to follow! 💓I was wondering if you could maybe do a song fic(like it’s loosely based off a song)? The song would be Delicate by Taylor Swift, I was thinking fluff and lil angst? With Klaus a human!reader 💓

HEY I"M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG (and that it's absolute trash) I TRIED TO FINISH IT FASTER BUT THE ENDING WASN'T WORKING!!! I hope you like it, it's not quite what you asked for but I tried!!!

ALSO, attention lovelies, I've been reading everywhere people saying things like "Klaus keeps being written wrong". I, personally, don't think you can write a character wrong. The whole point of this is that you can do whatever you want with the character. So, that being said, if that's how you feel then you'll probably hate this. If not, enjoy babes!

Delicate | Klaus Mikaelson

Description: Based off the song "Delicate" by Taylor Swift. I did it to the acoustic version, not a big deal but the vibe matches that version better. Basically Y/n works at a bar in New Orleans, it's hinted at that it's Rousseau's but it isn't named. Klaus comes in looking for Camille but finds her instead. One thing leads to another and she ends up in the Mikaelson compound doing things she wouldn't normally do. Terrible description, even I don't know wtf I wrote. Good luck, you will need it.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Human!Reader

Warnings: It's cheesy. Like throw up in your mouth cheesy. Not realistic (to be fair what really is, isn't that why we do this?)

Word count: 3877

Tags: slight angst, FLUFF

(Not my picture :) )

The bar where you work is empty, something that’s surprising at almost eleven on a Saturday. Usually it’s packed, filled with whoever the wind blows in from the streets of New Orleans. That being said, not the most model citizens. You run a cloth over the counter, wiping away non-existent crumbs. You don’t mind a full bar but tonight you’re drained. You don’t mind the silence.

There’s one person, a man, sitting at the end of the counter. He ordered a drink over an hour ago, one of the cheaper beers you have to offer, that he’s still nursing. He keeps checking the clock on the wall, every five minutes or so. Stood up. You see it a lot. You don’t feel like talking, though, especially not to a man who has just had his ego stomped on. You just keep wiping the counter.

The man finally leaves at a quarter to twelve. He lasted longer than most, you’ll give him that. You don’t feel bad for him. You don’t know him. There’s a chance he deserved it. Scratch that, you’re in New Orleans, he definitely deserved it. When he’s out the door you pour yourself a drink. You have an hour left, the bar’s dead, and you’ve cleaned everything. Twice. You deserve it.

When you take the first sip of your rum and coke, the bell above the front door chimes. You almost sigh but when you look up the air is knocked from your lungs. In front of you is a man, sandy blonde and tall. Handsome. That’s not why you can’t breathe, though. You see a lot of attractive men blow through your bar, if each one stole your breath you wouldn’t be very good at your job. No, the wind gets knocked from your lungs because of the blood on his grey t-shirt.

He marches to where you are and lays his hands flat on the counter. He doesn’t slam them. In all the scenarios where a dangerous looking man comes into an empty bar in search of trouble he always slams his hands down. He’s ruining the bad guy experience. His eyes are icy and, upon further inspection, glossy. Maybe ‘bad guy’ is the wrong label.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase, love, where is Camille?” His accent catches you off guard.

He means Camille O’Connell. You know her as Cami, though. You’ve been working with her for as long as you can remember. On busy nights, with the two of you manning the bar, you easily pull a couple hundred in tips each. She’s supposed to be here tonight but she had called in at the last minute and you hadn’t argued with her. Knowing Cami, if she called in then it was for something important.

You take another sip of your drink, cautiously answering, “sorry it’s just me tonight.”

He leans back, running his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in the back, “alright, there goes that.”

It’s mumbled, like he’s talking more to himself than to you. He turns to leave and, for a reason you can’t quite explain, your heart sinks a little bit. It’s your turn to run your hand through your hair. You bite your lip nervously. You’re definitely going to regret this.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

He looks back at you, over his shoulder, a small smile on his face. His eyes flicker to the clock, sort of like how the man before him had, before settling back on you.

“What time are you off?” His question throws you off.

“I, ah,” you glance warily at him, your eyes darting to the stains on his shirt, “why?”

He chuckles lowly, chasing shivers up your spine, “don’t you trust me, love?”

This time you laugh. You’ve said it once, you’ll say it again: this is New Orleans. This isn’t the place you should trust easily. Although, looking back at him, his eyes flash with sincerity. That could easily be the rum though. Regardless, you can’t deny your curiosity. What do they say about that again?

“Should I?”

He smiles wide this time, his eyes piercing yours from across the room, “not if you ask anyone from this town.”

Oh yeah; they say it kills.

“I’m off in an hour, I'll meet you in the back.”

“Until then, love,” he parts, leaving nothing but the chiming bell in his wake.

You don’t realize how fast your heart is beating until he leaves. It drowns out the music drifting through the bar and you’re stuck with your thoughts. When you close your eyes you see his crystal ones and you shiver again. It dawns on you that you don’t even know his name. You don’t know anything about him. This is definitely a bad idea. You quickly down the remainder of your drink, pouring yourself another and pulling up a stool.

You pull out your phone; now is probably a good time to shoot Camille a text.

Hey, so a guy just came in asking about you.

Should I be worried?

12:02

A few minutes later your phone buzzes.

That depends, what does he look like?

12:04

You smile a little at her reply, typing back quickly.

Blonde, tall, blue-eyes. Spoke like he

knew you well.

12:04

This time her response is instant and chilling.

That was probably Klaus. If I'm

right trust me when I say you

want no part of that. I’m talking

major drama.

12:05

Your heart stops at her words and you think back to the blood on his shirt, feeling entirely stupid.

Is he dangerous?

12:06

Her answer takes longer than you would have liked, your pulse hammering in your eardrums for too long.

No.

12:11

You sigh in relief, clicking your phone off and setting it on the bar top.

After that the hour passes excruciatingly slow. Now you know how that man must have felt. You’ve probably looked at that clock a dozen times. After what feels like five, of what was supposed to be one, hours, the hand finally strikes ten to one. You sigh in relief as you rush to count the money in the till. After locking the front door and turning off all the lights, you check your appearance in the mirror behind the bar one last time. You smooth your hair down and pinch your cheeks lightly, although you’re not sure why. You’ve seen it in movies though, so you give it a shot.

You step out of the back door into the cool air, letting it wrap around your hot skin as you lock the door.

“Took you long enough,” you jump slightly at the smooth voice that greets you.

Klaus. Well, probably Klaus. You’re still not sure. You should be scared but you can’t bring yourself to do so. You can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face when you turn to meet him. He’s cleaned up, wearing a fresh crew-neck and some dark jeans. When he steps into the light you notice the dark circles under his eyes. For the second time tonight you find your heart aching for this man.

“Well, what are we doing now?” You tilt your head to the side, watching his eyes watch you in the alleyway.

“That depends, love, are you still up for that drink?”

Your heart flutters at his proposition, “if I remember properly, I’m the one who asked to buy you a drink.”

He walks over to you, offering you up his hand and sending you a delicious smirk, “call me old fashioned.”

You place your palm in his without a second thought, a side effect most likely caused from the alcohol warming your chest. He pulls you out of the alley and into the streets of the French Quarter. It’s teeming with life still, despite it being one in the morning. Music trickles out of bars that are still open, strings of lights and street lamps guiding you down the uneven cobble stones.

“You know, you still haven’t asked me my name,” your words float into the air, mingling with the music like a new song.

“Would you like me to ask you your name, love?”

You almost say no, if only to make sure that he doesn’t stop calling you by that word. Love. It makes your insides twirl.

“My name is Y/n,” you answer softly instead.

He repeats your name back, like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue, and smiles lightly. Your heart sings in your chest, a warm blush settling over your skin in the dim night. You wish you could record him and play it on a loop. You could get lost in the way he says your name.

“Well Y/n, love, aren’t you going to ask me my name?”

His thumb rubs circles and your mind goes fuzzy, “I don’t need to, Klaus.”

“Ah, I see you’ve been speaking to Camille. Tell me, what wonderful things did she have to say,” there’s a smile on his face but his tone is off; too cool.

You glance at his face. He’s staring ahead of you, his eyes locked on the horizon, refusing to meet your gaze. You squeeze his hand tighter, not saying anything right away. You’ve always tried to be the person who decides for herself. What you wear, what music you listen to. Who you like and, with that, who you don’t. In a city as wayward as this one, you try to avoid letting yourself be influenced by the likes, or dislikes, of others. It’s only fair.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He looks over to you, surprise laced in his eyes, “well, I suppose that’s good because we’re here.”

You don’t realize that you’ve stopped walking until he says that, your eyes drifting back in front of you. You can’t help but gasp at the sight. You can’t say you’ve never seen a house like this before but you can say that you’ve never been privy to being this close to one. It’s as grand as any New Orleans compound, held up by marvellous white columns and a porch that could probably hold three of your mother’s small farmhouse alone. The wrought iron gates and towering hedges that surround it add a hint of mystery to its beauty. It looks forbidden.

Klaus pulls you through the gate, your mouth still gaping at the scene in front of you. He chuckles, walking you to the front door, his eyes locked on your face. You can tell he’s soaking up your every expression and basking in it.

Your heart leaps when Klaus leans down to whisper into your ear, “you haven’t seen anything yet, love.”

And he’s right because when he opens the door your head spins. It’s a courtyard. Right there in the middle of the house. It’s breathtaking, every square inch of the space before you. Your eyes dart to the iron banisters surrounding the floors that seem to go on forever, reaching towards the sky which is visible through glass panels. Ferns hang from each floor, bowing to the beautiful fountain centered precisely in the middle of it all. You're in awe.

You also feel completely and utterly out of your element. Two hours ago you wouldn't have even dreamt that you would be standing somewhere a marvellous as this. It isn’t you. Not because you don't want it to be. Life just doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.

“This is,” you turn to the blue-eyed boy behind you, shaking your head slightly, “it’s just wow.”

You’re breathless. You feel like you have been since you met him. When he laughs though, like really genuinely laughs, you finally know what it truly feels like to be breathless. His laugh makes your heart stop and simultaneously restarts it at the same time. It’s oxygen. Before this moment you weren't breathing. This is what life feels like.

He leads you through a door, your eyes catching on every bit of the house you’re granted and on him. You watch the way his back moves through the fabric of his shirt and how his eyes dart to every door you pass, like he’s trying to picture what’s behind them. You’re just as amazed by him as you are the house, perhaps even more so.

Klaus brings you to a kitchen, one modern in comparison to the history you had passed on the way here. It's stark white and open. Beautiful, just like everything else you’ve seen so far. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Take a seat,” he gestures to the marble counter top where you gladly pull out a stool, “I’ll see what I can find.”

You watch him dig through the many cupboards lining the kitchen, admiring the way his shirt rides up slightly when he reaches above the sink. He pulls out a bottle filled with a honey coloured liquid, setting it in the sink.

“I can feel you staring, love, didn't anyone ever tell you that’s impolite,” his words bring immeasurable heat to your cheeks among other places.

When he turns back around to face you his crystal eyes are teasing, a casual smirk on his lips. He grabs the bottle again, stalking over to you with a look you can’t quite place. It pools more heat in all the places it shouldn't and makes it impossible to look away from him. When he reaches you he sets the alcohol behind your back. What he does next knock the wind from your lungs, again. Are you even surprised anymore?

He grabs you by the waist, picking you up as if you weigh nothing and swiftly setting you on the edge of the counter. Your hands grasp at his shoulders, trying to steady yourself from falling. The cold marble bites through the material of your pants, sending a new sensation coursing through your veins. He steps between your legs, caging you against the counter.

“That’s better now, isn't it.”

You’re pulse pounds rapidly in your ears, adrenaline swimming through your body. You’re eye level with him for the first time since meeting him. Under the bright lights of the kitchen you can see the sapphire ring around his pupils. Your heart jumps when you watch them expand, the black in his eyes dominating the blue. His shoulders relax under your fingers. You know you should move your hands but, by god, you don’t want to.

“Don’t you want that drink?” It’s not even convincing to your ears, let alone his.

With him so close to you, you can smell his cologne. It’s like water, cool and fresh. Absolutely intoxicating.

His pupils blow wide again and he swallows, his hand sliding up from your hips to cup your cheek, “do you?”

“Klaus,” his name flies from your lips like a question, one that you’re not sure if you want an answer to or not.

Your hands move to the base of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your actions surprise you. You’ve never been like this. You’re a kiss at the end of the date kind of girl. A month of waiting kind of girl. A practical, keep to herself, kind of girl. Not this daring girl who sits on countertops in beautiful houses with gorgeous men. Men who look at her like they want to eat her up in ways that no one ever thought to warn her about.

He steps impossibly closer to you. His hand, the one still on your hip, slides down your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist and holding you against him. Your fingers twist in the hair at the base of his neck, pulling a groan from his lips that lights your whole body on fire.

“Why did you come with me, love? I'm not good, surely Camille told you that,” he sighs his words, dipping his head back, further into your hand, his eyes closing.

His thumb rubs heated circles on your thigh and you have to bite back a moan, “I wanted to. For the first time in a long time I did something I wanted.”

He leans in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot on your lips, “my reputation isn’t exactly the best around here. I am told that I’m something of a monster.”

You wrap your other leg around his waist, squeezing them around him, causing his hand to tighten on your thigh, “I guess I don’t care.”

Klaus’ eyes flash black and the next thing you know his lips are on yours, moving against yours with a desperation you didn’t know that you’ve been craving. Your hands tug at his sandy hair, gripping at the soft curls with the same fervour. His hands hold your thighs tighter, crushing you against him. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging harshly before soothing it with his tongue. You moan against his lips, your cheeks burning with equal parts embarrassment and passion.

He smiles darkly, pulling away slightly before reattaching his lips to your neck. He bites down, his tongue drawing circles on your sensitive skin. You groan into the empty space of the kitchen, holding him against you. You’ve been kissed before, but not like this. Everywhere his mouth lands sends more shocks racing down your spine. It’s wonderful, the way every part of your body is calling his name.

“Klaus,” his name falls from your lips; a prayer for something you don’t have the words to describe.

He pulls his head from your neck, leaning his forehead against yours, lightly kissing your lips, “how about we move this somewhere a little more private, yeah?”

You nod fast, crashing your lips harder against his. He stands, taking you with him. He’s out of the kitchen and up the stairs so quick that your head spins. Any other time you would have been upset that you didn't get to see more of this beautiful house but right now you're fully consumed by Klaus. His scent curls around you, lifting you higher than any man should be able to. Your arms cling around his shoulders, keeping you flush against his chest.

His lips stay on yours the entire jaunt to his bedroom, only separating when he tosses you onto his bed. The giggles fall easily from your mouth. You can’t help but bask in the soft comforter, inhaling as much of him as you can. He walks towards you, slowly, like a tiger on the prowl, pulling the tee off his body and discarding it on the floor without a second thought. Your eyes slide to his chest, glued to his toned stomach.

He climbs onto the bed, pulling you by your hips towards him. You roll, pinning him to the bed, your legs straddling his hips. He looks shocked, like no one’s ever done that with him before. How sad it must be to feel like you always have to be in control. You smirk down at him, pulling your own shirt over your head, exposing your lacy bra to him. His eyes turn black again, pooling heat in the pit of your stomach with just a look.

You lean down, your hands on his chest, fingertips running over the dips on his abdomen. He closes his eyes, his hands hanging loosely on your hips. He looks at peace. You don’t know him but you have a feeling he doesn’t get to feel this way often. Your heart breaks for him, again, and you don’t mind.

You lean down, placing your lips where your hands had been.

“Fuck,” Klaus’ hand wraps in your hair, his stomach tightening under your touch.

You work your way up, stopping every so often to suck his skin into your mouth. The sounds coming from his mouth make you glow, pushing you to do your absolute best. You kiss your way up his chest, giving extra attention to his collarbone. You nip at the side of his neck, his arms wrapping around your back. When you finally make it to his lips, you press a soft kiss to them, holding his face gently in your hands.

He sighs into your kiss, setting your insides on fire for the hundredth, “what do you want me to do?”

He looks up at you, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. His hands rub your back lightly. He leans his face into your hand, kissing your palm. Your heart flutters rapidly in your chest.

His answer catches you off guard, an unfamiliar warmth settling over, “I want to hold you. Please, love?”

You can’t help the smile that takes over your face, “you want to cuddle with me?”

“Do you have to say it like that?” He sits up, keeping you on his lap, his hands sliding up and down your exposed back.

His head falls against your neck, kissing gently, “I’m just surprised. Since when do guys bring girls home to do anything decent?”

You lean against him, your arms falling around his shoulders without a second thought. It’s so natural, like you’ve known him your entire life. It almost isn’t fair that the universe had been hiding this. Clearly he’s been around. He knows Cami. He’s obviously been in the bar before. He was there just always out of your reach.

“I don’t,” your skin tingles with his hums, “not usually.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach, much too far considering you barely know him, “why start now?”

Your words are harsher than you intend for and he pulls back, staring into your eyes, “I don’t know, love, you're just different.”

Your cheeks burn, a recurrence that’s starting to bother you, “what does that mean?”

You’re frustrated. For multiple reasons. You feel different, odd. He makes you feel things that you haven’t felt in a very long time, if ever. You’ve made choices you tonight that you wouldn’t normally make. You don’t feel like yourself. You like that you don’t feel like yourself but that means you also don't know who you are right now, which you don’t like. If you’re not you then who are you? Clearly you're the girl that jumps into bed with strangers, even if it’s not to sleep with them. You feel hot all over and you hate it.

“I don’t know,” he pushes away a strand of hair that you don’t realize had fallen, “what do you think?”

It’s not sarcastic but you wish it was so you wouldn't have to answer, “I think that this isn’t me. That I don’t do this. Ever. And that you’re breaking your end of the one night stand pact.”

His thumb skims over your cheek and you have to steel yourself from the shivers it causes, “love, I wasn’t aware that this was a one night stand. Is that what you want?”

Your mouth falls open slightly, your eyes stuck to his sparkling ones, “I-”

He presses his mouth to yours before you can answer, his hands holding you against him. You don’t fight him, you just sink into his arms once more. You let yourself revel in the warmth of his chest.

“Let’s not make any promises, love."

#the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #Klaus Mikaelson Imagine #Imagine #reader insert

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 5 years ago

Text

The Main Course - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: Hopper gets stood up on his date, so you decide to make a move.

Characters: Jim Hopper x female reader

Words: 6,816

Warnings: smut, age gap, size kink, unprotected sex, language/dirty talk, Hopper being sexy af

The Main Course

Placing freshly baked pasta down in front of the middle-aged couple at table 5, you turned and headed back towards the kitchen, wishing this night would just be over already. A glance at the clock showed that it was almost 7pm, which meant that, unfortunately, the place wouldn’t die down for at least another hour or two. And since one of the other waitresses had called in sick, leaving you to close the restaurant alone tonight, you’d be happy to get out of here before midnight.

You had been a waitress at Enzo’s for the past three summers in a row, and while it wasn’t your dream gig, it helped save up some extra money before classes resumed in the fall. You were about to start your senior year of college, which meant that this was most likely (and hopefully) your last summer as a waitress, the plan being to move onto bigger and better opportunities after graduation.

Until then, this was your reality: wearing an uncomfortable uniform while balancing trays of food, dodging spills, and giving your customers a fake smile in the hopes that they might add a little extra to their tip.

The clinking of forks on plates mixed with the soothing, yet lively, notes coming from the string quartet. It covered up the creak of the double wooden front doors, so that at first you didn’t notice someone new had even walked in. However, you had just finished refilling a patron’s wine glass when a glance to the left caused you to freeze in surprise at the man who had just entered.

The tall, imposing figure was wearing a surprisingly casual (and bright) Hawaiian shirt underneath a beige blazer and light blue Wranglers. It was a bit of an odd ensemble, but if any man could pull it off, it was the one and only Chief Jim Hopper.

Up until now you had only seen the chief in his uniform, and though part of you lamented its absence, you had to admit that he still looked good. Better than good. He looked delicious. His shoulders appeared even wider than usual in the blazer, and his broad chest filled out what should’ve been a ridiculous-looking shirt, instead making it sexy and masculine. There was even a row of buttons down the front, which made your lips twitch upwards into a tiny smirk. Oh, the fantasies you’d had about unbuttoning Jim out of his shirt. Usually it was his uniform you imagined, but this one was also going into the spank bank for later.

In case it wasn’t already obvious from your thoughts, you had it bad for Hawkins’ chief of police. As a teenager, you’d found the older man to be intimidating and abrasive. But now, as an adult...he was still an older man who was intimidating and abrasive, but that was a large part of his appeal. You couldn’t help but imagine all the ways he could utilize that sharp tongue and wicked mouth, not to mention the mental image of his smug face pressed between your open and willing thighs. Just the thought of all that powerful man on top of you, of the things he could do to your body...

Realizing that you had been standing dumbstruck and staring for way longer than was necessary, you jolted back into action and went to check on another table. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Hopper was seated in the middle of the room, and it wasn’t purely coincidence that you next went to wait on a table right beside his. While writing down the customer's order, you also kept an ear on the conversation Hopper was having with his own waiter. He ordered a double scotch, which wasn’t surprising. Then he asked for a bottle of Chianti, which was surprising. You had to stifle a smirk at the adorable way he butchered the name of the wine, knowing that his waiter, a stuffy jerk named Tom, wouldn’t appreciate the faux pas one bit.

Finished taking your table’s order, you walked slow as molasses back in the direction of the kitchen, still listening intently to the men’s discussion. When Hopper asked for two wine glasses, one for him and one “for the lady,” a jolt of shock went through you at the realization of why the usually casual man was gracing the most upscale restaurant in the area. He was here on a date!

From what you had gathered around town, Hopper wasn’t one to take women out to dinner, instead being more the type to bed ‘em and move on to the next. You instantly wondered who the woman was and why he had picked her for the date. Okay, so you were maybe, quite possibly...just a tad bit...jealous as fuck.

For the next hour, you kept checking on Hopper out of the corner of your eye. He was too fixated on watching the front doors to notice your spying, and as the minutes ticked by, you got more and more anxious to see who would join him.

By the time it was almost 8pm, Hopper had finished his scotch and half the bottle of wine. His hair was a bit ruffled from running his hands through it in increasing frustration, and while he didn’t appear completely drunk, at this rate he was well on his way. Disbelief and an ember of anger pooled in your stomach the longer you watched him. There were plenty of women who would’ve killed to be here with him tonight, yourself included. You wondered for the umpteenth time that evening who the hell this woman was, and why she would be a no-show for a date with such a stud of a man.

Suddenly, an idea hit you. A totally insane, utterly ridiculous...possibly genius idea. It was very likely that this would be your last chance to interact with Hopper before leaving town for college. And once you graduated, who knows when or how often you’d come back to Hawkins. Maybe, just maybe, tonight’s events had unfolded to your advantage.

The important question was, could you go through with it? Worst-case scenario was he’d laugh in your face and say something condescending in front of the entire restaurant. No big deal, you’d only be traumatized for life, never able to show your face here again. But the best-case scenario...you almost stumbled at the thought, ice clinking loudly as the drinks on your tray came dangerously close to sloshing over the edge. Pull yourself together, damnit!

Once the drinks were served and you had overanalyzed the idea to the point that your palms were sweaty and the snug, white button-down shirt felt as though it was constricting your ability to breath, you made up your mind.

It was now or never.

Pulling out your order pad and pencil, you scribbled down a quick, but flirty, message: Her loss, but I’d love for it to be my gain. You considered writing down your number, but since you were staying with your parents over the summer, didn’t want to risk him calling there and your mother or, heaven forbid, your father answering. Besides, he knew where you worked, so it shouldn’t be hard for him to find you if this panned out in a positive direction. Ripping the piece of paper off the pad and folding it in half, you tucked it into the front pocket of your apron.

Before you could totally lose your nerve, you went over to the table next to his, giving the young couple their receipt and wishing them a fantastic evening. Taking a deep breath, you turned around and took the two steps needed to put your hip inches away from Hopper. Pulling out the piece of paper, you discreetly slid it across the table in front of him. He looked up with furrowed brows, probably expecting to see Tom. When his eyes instead found you, a flicker of surprise shot through them. Not wanting to stick around too long and draw the attention of others, you gave what was hopefully a flirty smile, lightly laid your palm on his blazer-covered forearm for a split second, then spun and quickly headed back for the kitchen, praying with each step that you didn’t stumble or run into anyone.

It wasn’t until you made it back through the swinging doors that you were able to let out the breath you’d been holding. Holy shit, you couldn’t believe you had just done that! You really really wished you could see his face when he read the note, but you also didn’t want to risk the humiliation if he laughed or flat out denied your offer. A few minutes later, one of your table’s food orders was ready and anxiety darted through you at the thought of walking back out into the dining room, wondering if Hopper was still there and if he’d say anything.

He was still there, his back to the kitchen and broad shoulders keeping you from seeing what he had done with the note. Heading over to the correct table, you felt the heavy weight of someone watching as you set down the food in front of your customers. When you were done and turned back for the kitchen, sure enough, Hopper’s gaze was zeroed in on you. Goosebumps rose on your arms at his piercing stare and the way he seemed to be intently analyzing you. He was twirling the folded note between his fingers casually, and you were pretty sure your panties became damp at the slow, knowing smile that passed across his face.

Suddenly, he stood up from the table, running into Tom in the process. The waiter had just been coming to check on him, probably in hopes that he was going to leave soon and free up the table for someone who actually wanted to order food. The affronted look on his face when Hopper grabbed the mostly empty bottle of wine and made to leave caused you to give a huffed laugh. Tom was frantically telling the taller man that he couldn’t take any alcohol off the premises, to which Hopper gave a rather impolite noise and growled, “I can do anything I want. I’m the chief of police.”

With that, he strode out of the restaurant, nearby diners staring in shock at the disgruntled man who had caused such a scene. You personally found any situation that ruffled Tom’s feathers to be amusing, but couldn’t help the zing of disappointment that Hopper hadn’t said anything to you before leaving. Sure, he hadn’t laughed or embarrassed you, but his lack of any response other than the stare and smirk caused you to second-guess writing the note in the first place.

Trying to ignore your inner self-doubt, you refocused on customers. However, a little voice in your head kept whispering that you should’ve known better. Why would an older, successful, and sexy as hell man like Chief Hopper be interested in a much younger college student who didn’t even have the guts to actually say anything to him, instead passing a note like you were still in high school. Besides, he had obviously set his sights on someone else tonight, and if she was amazing enough for him to invite on a date, then you probably didn’t even compare.

Determined to shut down the negative thoughts and forget the entire fiasco, you pushed it to the back of your mind and spent the next two hours waiting tables until your feet were sore. You were beyond relieved when 10pm arrived and you were able to close and lock the doors. The string quartet and other waiting staff had left at that point, and the cook was quick to follow. Once the last round of silverware had been washed and folded, you also sent the dishwasher on their way, leaving only you and the vacuum to finish the evening.

Once the tables were all scrubbed clean and the floors vacuumed of any crumbs, all that was left to do was take out a couple remaining bags of trash. Hefting them over your shoulder, you went out the back door and walked across the dimly lit area to the nearby dumpster. Hauling the last bag in, you eagerly looked forward to going back inside, grabbing your purse, and getting the hell out of there. However, you made it halfway to the door before almost screaming in alarm at the realization that you weren’t alone.

The dark outline of a man was leaning against the brick wall beside the back door, and the fact that you hadn’t even noticed him when first coming outside was enough to send a chill down your spine. He was hidden in shadows, only the tiny orange dot of his cigarette visible, which glowed brightly as he inhaled. You started to panic, thoughts of being robbed or assaulted flashing through your head.

“Leave me alone! Or I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Call the cops?” came the husky and amused response.

Recognizing the voice, your shoulders slumped in relief. “Holy shit, Hopper! You scared the crap out of me!”

A low chuckle came out of the darkness, and your initial fear morphed instantly into desire at the sound. You wondered what he was doing lurking around the restaurant after hours, refusing to be so hopeful as to think it was because of you.

“What did you mean by that note?”

“Huh?”

Oh shit, maybe he was here because of you, after all. Your palms started to sweat at the realization that you honestly hadn’t planned this far ahead. After he had left the restaurant without a word, you hadn’t thought he’d respond to the note at all, let alone tonight.

Standing there under the dim glow of a nearby streetlight, while he was still shrouded in darkness, you suddenly felt out of your element. Here is your chance! You wanted his attention and now you’ve got it, so don’t mess this up!

Before you could come up with a better explanation, he questioned you again. “What did you mean by ‘your gain’? Were you hoping I’d wine and dine you, treat you like a lady?”

You could hear the evident sarcasm in his voice, and knew in that moment he was expecting it to be exactly what you wanted. He probably saw you as some naive girl with romantic stars in her eyes, and would turn and walk away if that were the case. However, the fact that he had still wanted to suss out your expectations meant that at least some part of him must be curious. Your note had served as the proper bait, but now you had to use the right words to reel him in.

“Being wined and dined is overrated.” Walking a few steps closer, you were still unable to make out his face in the darkness. Wishing you could see his reaction, you continued, “If there’s anything I’ve learned from waitressing, it’s that no one likes to wait for their meal. I’d rather skip the preliminaries and go straight to the main course. Enjoy it while it’s hot.”

You were honestly pretty damn proud of yourself for getting all that out without any hesitation or stuttering. Now that the possibility of having Hopper was within your grasp, you didn’t want to mess it up. You wanted to fuck a real man, to fuck this man, before you could move on from this town with no regrets.

Evidently, he hadn’t been expecting that response. There was an extended period of silence, as if he were processing your words. You then saw the orange dot fall as he flicked the cigarette to the ground and finally stepped out of the darkness, stalking towards you with the same focused stare as earlier in the restaurant. The intensity on his face caused a flicker of fear, and you wondered if this was a mistake, being alone with him this late at night.

That thought quickly dissipated as your body took over, arousal coursing through you at the sight of all that attractive man headed in your direction. He was so tall, his shadow quickly eclipsing your own as he closed the distance, the top of your head not quite reaching his shoulders. You barely had time to notice that the suit jacket was gone, leaving him in the green and pink patterned shirt and tight blue jeans, before he was on you.

His large hand cupped the back of your head, and a second later you were kissing. Chief. Hopper!

Instinct took over, as your lips opened in submission to his. A whimper escaped your throat when he dove in with no hesitation, staking his claim and leaving no doubt as to who was in charge. He pressed his broad body up into yours as his other hand gripped the side of your waist, the scratch of his mustache on your top lip and beard stubble on your chin a reminder that this wasn’t some hormonal frat boy. There was no mistaking that Hopper was all man and, in return, he made you feel like a desirable woman. The fact that you had evoked this reaction in him was enough to make you light-headed...or maybe that was just the lack of oxygen from being kissed to within an inch of your life.

Using his larger frame, he herded you backwards, your body automatically following his command and backing up step by step, out of the dimly lit area and towards the shadows of the building. The hard surface of the brick wall pressed into your back, but you barely noticed, too fixated on the man in front of you. His mouth trailed downwards, and your head fell back into the wall as he sucked on the side of your throat. Gripping his shoulders to help anchor your suddenly wobbly knees, you moaned when he found a particularly sensitive spot where your neck sloped down into your shoulder.

You felt him smile against your skin, before he lifted his mouth to your ear and purred, “I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, baby girl.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his deep voice, his words causing puffs of warm air to ruffle tendrils of your hair. Struggling to make your last remaining brain cells function properly enough to respond, you whispered, “Then why don’t you show me, Chief?”

His answering groan made you mentally fist pump in glee, as well as tuck away the knowledge that the title was an apparent turn-on for him. His mouth descended on yours again, at the same time that his hands started untucking the bottom of your shirt. Thankfully, you had taken off the apron earlier while vacuuming, leaving you in a white button-down and slightly-above-the-knee black skirt. You didn’t even hesitate to lift your arms from Hopper’s shoulders when he pulled the shirt up and over your head. It was quickly followed by him also taking off the white cami you wore underneath, leaving you clad in just a light pink bra from the waist up.

You were about to lift your head for another kiss when you felt his hands at your back, and suddenly the bra was also being pulled away. He was wasting no time getting you undressed, and you suddenly realized that, unless you put a stop to it, he was going to fuck you outside and up against this very wall. You probably should’ve been shocked or offended by this, the thought of someone stumbling upon the two of you flickering in the back of your mind, but you were honestly too dead set on knowing what Hopper’s cock felt like inside you to care. Being the recipient of such intense male desire filled you with excitement, anticipation, and a bit of fear. The combination of emotions was exhilarating, and served to increase your own desire even further.

Once your bra was off and flung to the side, Hopper froze and slowly leaned back. Looking up, you felt your panties dampen further at the way he was intensely taking in every exposed inch of flesh, stifling a whimper when he licked his bottom lip.

You gasped softly when his large, warm palms cupped both your breasts, lifting and pressing them together as he stared in awe. “Look at you, baby. You’re so fucking pretty. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here, pushed up against a dirty wall and asking to be fucked by a man twice her age?” His voice was raspy with desire, and both that and the taboo words combined to ramp up your own arousal.

Your panting breaths must not have been enough response for him, because he pinched your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers until you let out a moan. Giving a slow, devilish smirk, he continued, “You like that though, don’t you, little girl? You want me to fuck you, to show you just how hard the chief’s dick can make you come. Isn’t that right?”

A harder twist to your nipples made you cry out with the pleasure-pain, your eyes darting up to lock onto his. “I said, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, you choked out, “Yes, yes...please…”

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want.”

Brain foggy with arousal, you fought to string together the words needed to express what you wanted. What you needed. “I want you to touch me and fuck me...please, Chief...make me come. Please...do whatever you want with me.”

An anguished groan was his response, the primal sound making your cunt clench with desire, begging to be filled. It seemed your words were the catalyst needed to unleash the beast, as Hopper dropped his head to your breasts at the same time he reached one hand down under your skirt and pushed it up your thighs. A wordless cry left your throat when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, and you trembled like a leaf caught in the wind when he used both palms to push at your inner thighs until they were spread obscenely wide for him. A loud rip a few seconds later, followed by a cool breeze in an unexpected area, told you that he had torn off the flimsy fabric of your panties. This reminder of his size and strength only increased your desire to feel all that power between your thighs, to have him claim your body as his.

He used lips, tongue, and even teeth until your nipple was rock-hard and so raw and sensitive that you weren’t sure if the pathetic little noises you were making were a plea for him to keep going or slow down. He then switched to the other one, giving it the same treatment until you felt dizzy with the sensations. You were so focused on what he was doing to your nipples, that when he moved his hand up between your spread legs and ran a warm, calloused finger along your slit, it was all you could do to keep yourself leveraged against the wall and not fall at his feet.

As if sensing your impending inability to remain upright, Hopper lifted his head from your breasts and stepped in closer, his chest pressed into yours and hand cupped between your thighs possessively. When one thick finger pushed up into your dripping pussy, it was all you could do to remember how to breathe. After a few deep, slow thrusts he added a second finger. The slight burn as you stretched around his digits was yet another reminder of his size...of what even bigger and thicker appendage awaited you.

“Fuck, you’re tight. You sure you can even take my cock, little girl?”

Nails clutching his biceps through the shirt as he thrust in and out of your body, you panted, “Yes, I want it. Make me take it. Make me yours.”

A string of curses, followed by his hand speeding up its movements, served to make your thighs clench and head fall back against the wall. Caught between his large body and the hard brick, you were unable to do anything except stand there and take it. The wet squelch his fingers made with each thrust was a testament to how much his filthy words were affecting you, your body greedily sucking him in and voicing its protest each time he retreated.

You could feel your body ramping up to climax, muscles straining for release and walls beginning to flutter around his fingers. Then, suddenly, his hand was gone, a hoarse groan of need voicing your displeasure as the peak receded before you could reach it. Looking up at him in shock, you tried to form the words to ask why the fuck he had stopped. Instead, your breath hitched when he did something completely unexpected...and dropped to his knees.

“What…” your brain was unable to comprehend the situation, while every fiber of your body was screaming in excitement as he lifted one of your legs and draped it over his massive shoulder.

Gaze fixated on what was between your spread thighs, he growled out, “How about a little dessert before the main course?”

With that, he shoved your skirt even higher around your waist, leaned forward, and put his face between your thighs. The scratch of his facial hair mixed with his hot, wet mouth on your pussy served to make your brain stop working and body freeze in shock before instinctively arching towards him. His tongue tried to gather as much of the dripping wetness from you as it could reach, the feel of his tongue pushing inside you causing your legs to shake. When his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked, you were done for. Between being primed by his fingers, the sensations of his mouth, and the sight of the big, tough Chief of Police kneeling with his face buried in your cunt, it took a ridiculously short amount of time for you to once again be hurtled up towards the peak of pleasure.

Part of you wanted to try and make it last as long as possible, wanting this memory to forever be burned into your brain. The other part of you was too overwhelmed to do anything other than garble unintelligibly and pull at his hair as you hurtled over the edge. Shudders wracked your body as waves of euphoria radiated out from where his mouth was attached to your clit. The leg still on the ground started to collapse, but Hopper’s hands were anchored at your hips and kept you stable as he continued to work you through the orgasm.

When the shaking had reduced to tiny tremors and your over-sensitized clit begged for mercy, you pushed weakly at his head until he pulled back and looked up. His mouth and chin were shiny with your release, and his eyes darkened as a primal sound of need left your lips at the sight.

Gently removing your leg from his shoulder, he made sure you were steadied against the wall before letting go of your hips and raising to his full height once again. A flicker of uncertainty came over his face, as if he wasn’t sure whether you’d want to take this any further. Pfft, as if I’d stop just because I got to come already, you thought, and reached out to do what you had been fantasizing about for years: undoing Hopper’s buttons.

You were too focused on getting each button undone to see the relief on his face at your willingness to continue. Desire reignited between your thighs as each inch of flesh was slowly revealed, and it felt like both a second and an eternity before the buttons were all free and the shirt was hanging open. You pushed it off his shoulders and Hopper shrugged it the rest of the way off, letting it drop to the ground.

He appeared even larger without the shirt, if that were even possible. You hadn’t really seen his biceps exposed before, and they bulged with thick muscle that came not from a gym but from hours out in the field. He might not be one of the ripped meatheads that some women preferred, but there was a strength and size to him that spoke to you on a deep, primal level. His masculinity called to your femininity, and you wanted nothing more than for him to showcase his maleness in the most basic way possible: by fucking you until you screamed.

Obviously reaching his limit with letting you look your fill, he moved into action and started unbuckling his belt. Not wanting any barriers to get in the way, you quickly shoved the skirt, which was scrunched around your waist, down your legs and onto the ground with the other garments. Naked as the day you were born, you leaned back against the wall and watched Hopper with anticipation, eyes locked on the impressive bulge in his pants that was about to be unveiled.

His eyes were on you in return, scanning lewdly up and down your exposed body as he pulled down the zipper on his jeans. Pushing off both the denim and his boxer briefs in the same fluid movement, he kicked them to the side, leaving him naked before you.

And holy hell was naked Hopper a sight to behold! You were suddenly incredibly glad he had prepped you with an orgasm first, as it was going to take all the lubrication at your body’s disposal to take him in. He easily had the largest cock you’d ever been with, and you’d actually be pretty worried about the mechanics if you weren’t so far gone with lust.

As if reading your mind, he took the massive organ in his fist and started stroking up and down slowly. “Is this what you wanted, little girl?”

Mesmerized by his size and the way in which the reddened tip had a drop of fluid leaking from the tip, you felt any initial hesitancy float away. You wanted that cock inside you, and weren’t about to back out now. Nodding, you finally tore your eyes away from the sight and locked eyes with him, giving a raspy, “Please.”

Lips quirking upwards, he stepped forward, his naked body pressing into yours and causing you to gasp. He was so big and hard, making you feel tiny and soft in comparison. When his cock prodded your stomach, you were unable to resist temptation. Hopper groaned in agonized pleasure when your fist wrapped around him, and you only got in a few strokes before he pulled your hand away.

He reached down between your bodies, causing an instant shudder and your thighs to fall open instinctively for him. He gave a hum of approval, gathering some of your wetness on his fingers. You watched as he lifted the glistening digits to his dick and transferred the fluids, so that he was coated with your natural lubrication.

Too busy being mesmerized by the sight of your arousal on his cock, you were startled when he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted. Body responding automatically, you wrapped your legs around his hips and arms around his neck. The fact that he could lift and situate you to his liking with barely any effort was sexy as hell, and you didn’t even notice the uncomfortably hard wall at your back since Hopper owned something even harder that held your attention.

His cock bobbed underneath your ass, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were literally dripping onto it at this point, already overwhelmed by the feel of his naked and aroused body pressed up against you. When he reached down with one hand to grab his dick and rub it along your folds, you gave a needy whimper and squirmed in impatience. While you were glad he was taking the time to utilize all the lubrication available, you were about to scream with frustration if he didn’t fill you soon, the emptiness in your pussy an almost painful throb at this point. Giving a soft sob of relief when he finally positioned the head at your entrance, your thighs tightened around him in encouragement as he started pushing inside.

It quickly became apparent that, despite your arousal, this was going to be a tight fit. A shaky gasp was all you could manage when the flared part of his head stretched you with a slight burn. Pausing for a few seconds so that the two of you could catch your breath and regroup, he then pulled back slightly before pushing forward again. He was patient, but insistent, working his way into your body inch by inch until your world was narrowed down to the feel of his massive cock claiming you. When the stretch became too overwhelming, your nails dug into the back of his neck. It was a signal he thankfully acknowledged, halting again before pulling back and thrusting shallowly until you were better adjusted and ready for more.

“That’s it, baby, relax and let me in. I can feel your tight little pussy stretching around my dick, begging for more.”

His words made you dizzy with desire. The pleasure-pain of taking him in, combined with his primal enjoyment of conquering you to an extent that it was obvious no man had before, caused a myriad of overwhelming sensations and emotions. With a groan of satisfaction, he thrust the entire way inside, a slight shudder passing through his large body at the feel of you totally encompassing his cock. You clung to him, unable to speak or moan or even whimper, his cock filling you so full that it was as if it had reached up to your lungs and stole the breath right out of your body.

Your vocal cords decided to restart when he slowly pulled most of the way out and then thrust the entire way back in without pausing. Giving a needy cry, your walls involuntarily clamped down on him when he started to withdraw again, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a wrecked moan. The sound shot through you, causing more wetness to coat his dick and your back to arch so that your hardened nipples scraped deliciously against his chest hair.

Gripping your hips tightly, he started up a steady and intense rhythm, pulling back until just the tip was inside before thrusting deep, causing you to stretch around him again and again. It was as if he was trying to recreate that initial penetration with each thrust, and the sensation of him claiming you over and over made your eyes roll back in your head.

“So wet, baby. So wet and tight for me,” he murmured into your neck.

Trying to also verbalize your pleasure, you got out a few garbled words before your voice broke at the end, “Yes...oh, god...so good...please.”

He must’ve gotten the message because his pace picked up a bit, the heavy drag of his thick cock hitting every pleasurable nerve ending until you were softly whispering please over and over without even realizing it.

“That’s it, baby. I like it when you beg for me.”

With that, he moved a hand downwards and placed two fingers on your clit. The effect was immediate, a hoarse cry echoing out into the night as the pleasure became almost unbearable. You were poised on the edge of something earth-shattering, and it was beckoning for you to fall over the edge and into the abyss.

“Fuck, yes. You gonna come for me, baby? Be a good girl and come on my cock.”

Those words gave your body the final push it needed. Your pussy clenched down on his cock as the orgasm ripped through you, teeth sinking into his shoulder to stifle your scream. These weren’t the typical waves or ripples of pleasure; your body was instead overcome with jolts of rapture so intense that it almost felt like an out-of-body experience. You felt the electric pulses race from your flexed toes to the top of your head, and everywhere in between. Your vision blanked out as the world narrowed down to Hopper and the bliss he was providing, as he continued to thrust and work your clit, intent on wringing as much pleasure from you as possible. A distant-sounding groan came from above you, followed by the warm gushes of Hopper’s own release, the added sensation causing you to gasp and tremble against him.

When your body came back down to Earth, muscles still randomly jerking with the aftereffects, you felt as though your entire body was humming with boneless contentment. Hopper must’ve been feeling something similar, as he had collapsed into you, pressing you so tightly into the wall that it was almost hard to breathe. But you didn’t mind; if being smothered by his naked, sweaty body was how you went out of this world then...well, no one could say you’d died unhappy.

After a few long moments of trying to catch both your breaths, he gathered his strength and lifted his weight off of you. Unwrapping your legs from his waist and biting your lip to stifle the whimper of loss when his cock left your body, you slid down until your feet were on the ground. A bit unsure what to do or say next, you were relieved when he leaned down and kissed you. It wasn’t as intense as before; instead, it was slow, gentle, and reassuring. The gesture let you know that he wasn’t going to turn into a jerk the moment his cock was limp and he’d had his fill of you, and you were grateful to him for it. Bending down, he picked up your bra and skirt, handing the garments to you while he fished his own briefs and jeans from the ground. It was a good thing it was late and there wasn’t likely to be anyone else around, since you both were going to have some hard-to-explain dirt stains on your clothing.

Once all of the garments were located and you were both fully dressed, you walked back inside the restaurant with Hopper following behind. Ever the protector, he scanned the empty space while you grabbed your purse and the keys to lock up, trying to ignore your still-shaky legs and the feel of your combined releases dripping into the crotch of your underwear. When the doors were locked and the building secured, he made sure to walk you down the block to your car. While the gesture was appreciated, you tried not to hide your disappointment when he didn’t even say goodbye as you got in and closed the door. However, once you had turned the key in the ignition, you heard a tap on the driver’s window. Glancing up, you saw that he was leaning down with one arm resting on the roof of the car and peering in at you.

Rolling down the window, you looked at him expectantly. He appeared almost uncertain at first, glancing downwards for a few seconds before meeting your gaze and giving a warm smile.

“In case I don’t see you beforehand...good luck with your senior year.”

Not expecting the kind words, it took a few seconds to respond. Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, “Well, I got to finish the summer by marking you off my bucket list, so I’d say luck is in my favor this year.”

You saw his eyes widen and eyebrows lift in surprise. “I was on your bucket list?”

Giving a saucy grin, you honestly replied, “Chief, you were the bucket list.”

With that, you leaned out of the window and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to give a boyish grin that made you feel giddy. He stood up from the car, allowing you to put it in drive and pull out. Looking into the rearview window, you saw him stare after you for a few seconds before turning towards his own vehicle. While there was a bittersweet part of you that wanted to wish for more, you knew that this was how it was meant to end.

One of these days, you’d find your own Hopper. A man who went out of his comfort zone to meet you at a fancy Italian restaurant, who wanted to wine and dine you…and then fuck you senseless up against a wall.

Until then, you had other things to focus on in life, and exciting adventures that awaited you outside of Hawkins. Not to mention you now had a new memory to replay over and over...the memory of what had been the best night of your life. Smiling to yourself, you turned up the radio just as one of your favorite songs came on, and sang along the entire way home.

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smutfanfictionlover-blog · 4 years ago

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PENTAGON ONE-SHOT SMUT HONGSEOK - LOVE RAIN - M

WARNING: DETAILED SMUT SCENES AND FOUL LANGUAGE AHEAD!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hongseok is my third bias in Pentagon and I hope you don’t get me wrong because to be honest, when I am writing this scenario of him, my body is really heating up since I know he has a sexy upper body and he became a model for Men’s health. But I hope you like my scenario for hottie Hongseok! Thanks! :)

Y/N is working in the office and while she is focused on the job, suddenly someone disturbed her and it’s her friends named Yeri and Jerim.

“What is it now, girls? Don’t you see that I am working?” Y/N said and her friends laughed at her.

"Y/N, Hongseok is looking at you a while ago," Yeri said.

“It seems Hongseok likes you and also, you like him too, right?” Jerim said and Y/N rolled her eyes to her friends.

"Girls! How many times I already told you that he will never be interested in me. Just cut it out! Also, when did I tell the two of you that I like him?" Y/N said and raised her eyebrow at them and she suddenly noticed that her friends just smiling at her and as she, going back to work, Hongseok was in front of her desk and she was shocked at his presence.

“OMG! I hope Hongseok didn’t hear what I said.” Y/N thought.

“Oh! Hongseok, what brings you here?” Y/N asked.

"I just want to bring these documents to you," Hongseok said as he smiled at her, and Y/N blushed.

“Gosh! I know to myself that I am denying to my friends that I like him. He is just so handsome and hot!” Y/N thought and just smiled at him.

“Ok! Thanks, Hongseok!” Y/N said.

“No problem! I have to go! Have a nice day Y/N!” Hongseok said.

“Have a nice day too Hongseok!” Y/N said and both of them smiled at each other and Hongseok left her.

" Y/N, we know that you are just denying that you like Hongseok," Jerim said.

"Jerim is right! The way you smile at him and also, your eyes looks like it has a spark when you look at him." Yeri said.

“I know that Hongseok is handsome and he is very attractive but it doesn’t mean that I already like him, ok?” Y/N said.

"Fine! Whatever you say Y/N!" Jerim said and all of them went back to work. As for Yeri and Jerim, they planned something for Y/N and they decided to talk to Hongseok during their lunch break.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” Hongseok asked.

“We want to ask you, do you like our friend, Y/N?” Yeri asked and Hongseok blushed at the question and he was speechless.

“Hongseok, don’t deny that you like Y/N and we always notice that you keep looking at her since your working station is just across us,” Jerim said and smiled at him and Hongseok just sighed.

“Fine! I really like Y/N and I am interested to get to know her more,” Hongseok said and the girls got giddy at his sudden revelation.

“To be honest, we have a plan for you to get close to Y/N and somehow you can talk to her privately, sounds good, right?” Jerim said.

“Huh? What plan?” Hongseok asked.

“Before we tell you our plan, are you really sure that you really like her?” Yeri asked.

“Yes! I am really sure and I am serious about my feelings. So, please just tell me the plan. I am getting curious,” Hongseok said.

“Oh! That’s great!” Jerim said and smiled back at Hongseok and the girls started to tell their plan to him and Hongseok just agreed to do the plan. Then as time goes by, it was time for them to go home and Y/N noticed that her friends and Hongseok left early.

"It's my first time to see them that they left early. Oh well! I don't mind at all," Y/N thought and left the office. Then while she was walking along the road, suddenly it rains hard and when she was about to get her umbrella, she noticed that her umbrella was not in her bag and…

“Wait! I thought I have an umbrella with me! Gosh! Fine! I have no choice but to run now.” Y/N thought and ran as fast as she can but while she was running. Y/N didn’t know that her friends and Hongseok were in an alley and…

"Hongseok, are you ready? Y/N is getting closer," Jerim said and Hongseok nodded. Then when Y/N was getting closer to their place, suddenly Jerim pushed Hongseok hard out of the alley and that made Y/N shocked because she bumped into someone's chest and it was Hongseok and he just smiled at her.

"Thanks to Jerim and Yeri for their plan even though their plan is kinda childish, it felt that we are in a romantic drama and I hope this will be a happy ending for us." Hongseok thought.

“I am sorry Hongseok! I didn’t see you!” Y/N said.

“It’s ok, Y/N! I see that you don’t have an umbrella, you can walk with me.” Hongseok said and smiled at her and Y/N blushed.

“Ok! Thanks, Hongseok!” Y/N said and smiled back at him. But while they are walking, Hongseok noticed that Y/N is getting cold and her clothes were completely soaked that made Hongseok saw her shirt became see-through and he gulped at what he saw.

“I should just calm down myself!” Hongseok thought and he gave the coat to Y/N and she smiled at him.

“Thank you again Hongseok!” Y/N said.

"No problem, Y/N! I think you should stop by my place first because you are getting cold. Is that okay?" Hongseok asked.

“Are you sure about that?” Y/N said and Hongseok nodded.

"Ok! But it's not that far, right?" Y/N asked.

“Yup! Don’t worry!” Hongseok said and Y/N just nodded. Then in a few minutes, they reached his place and she was amazed that his place was big and spacious.

“Do you live alone here?” Y/N asked.

“Yup! Why? Do you want to live with me here?” Hongseok asked and Y/N blushed and she just laughed it off.

“Me? Live with you? Haha! You’re funny Hongseok!” Y/N said and both of them just laughed.

"I will just get some clothes for you, wait for me here," Hongseok said and Y/N nodded. But while she is waiting for Hongseok, she decided to roam around his place and she saw his room and the door is open and suddenly Y/N blushes because she saw that Hongseok is changing his clothes and she saw Hongseok's body built.

“Gosh! Why didn’t he close the door when he is changing clothes or is he doing this on purpose? But damn he is very sexy!” Y/N thought and just went back to the living room. Then in a few minutes, Hongseok went out of the room and went to Y/N.

“These are the clothes and you can change in my room,” Hongseok said and smiled at her.

“OK! Thanks, Hongseok!” Y/N said and smiled back at him and just went to Hongseok’s room and change her clothes. While Hongseok is waiting for Y/N to come out in his room, he cooks some food for them and after he finished cooking their food, he saw a journal in her bag and he decided to read it and he read something in one page and it read as…

“I am really happy that I keep seeing Hongseok in the office and his existence really matters to me and I hope Hongseok will be with me someday! I just really love him so much!”

As Hongseok read it, he was shocked and happy at the same time.

"I really thought that she never likes me!" Hongseok thought and his thoughts were cut-off when Y/N went out of his room and he suddenly stopped reading her journal and he hides it quickly and as she approached him, Hongseok looked at her and…

“Oh! Y/N is really beautiful and sexy wearing my clothes.” Hongseok thought and he smiled at her.

“Wow! You cooked all of this?” Y/N asked.

“Yup! I hope you will like it!” Hongseok said as he smiled widely at her and Y/N nodded and as they eat their dinner, Hongseok is looking at Y/N and he is happy to see that Y/N is enjoying the food that he cooked.

“You are really a good cook Hongseok! Thanks for all of this delicious food you prepare for us!” Y/N said and smiled at him.

"Thanks for the compliment Y/N! By the way, you are cute when you wear my clothes." Hongseok said and winked at her and Y/N blushed.

“Thanks, Hongseok! Haha! By the way, when my clothes got dried up, I will go home.” Y/N said and Hongseok pouted and she was surprised at his facial expression.

"Y/N, since we don't have work tomorrow, I want you to stay with me tonight," Hongseok said.

“Huh? But I really have to go home Hongseok.” Y/N said.

“Please! Just this night! It’s my first time not to be alone here in my place.” Hongseok said.

“What was gotten into you, Hongseok?” Y/N asked and looked at him and he suddenly smirked at her.

"Wait! Did he just smirk at me? Why did he do that?" Y/N thought and her thoughts were cut-off when he went closer to her and looked at her intensely.

" I don't know Y/N! But I just want you to be with me tonight. I want you to be mine Y/N!" Hongseok said and Y/N was shocked at his words and when Y/N was about to talk, he kissed her passionately and pulled her closer to him and she felt a hard-on in her core and Hongseok grinned it at her that made Y/N moan in the kiss and he had a chance to slip his tongue into her mouth and they suddenly stopped kissing and Hongseok looked at her and Y/N can't look at him as she continued to blush madly in front of him and he decided to lift her chin to look at him.

"Y/N I like you, I love you and I know you want me too," Hongseok said as he continued to look at her, and Y/N gulped.

“ You’re right I want you and I love you too Hongseok!” Y/N said and both of them smiled at each other and Hongseok held her hands and lead her to his room and as they went inside his room, they helped to undress each other and Y/N was amazed again at his built and Hongseok smirked at her and pushed her in the bed and looked at Y/N with lust and love.

“Y/N, you really like what you see huh? You thought I didn’t know that you saw me while I am changing my clothes in my room?” Hongseok said and smirked again that made her look away at him.

"It's ok Y/N! Since this body will be yours tonight and your body will be mine." Hongseok said as he bites and licked his lip while looking at Y/N who is now completely naked and he hovered above her.

“Let’s just don’t mind the rainy weather outside. What matters now is that both of us will be one tonight.” Hongseok said and Y/N gulped at his words but she just nodded.

“Shit! I didn’t expect that this will happen tonight! But I don’t mind since he is the one that I need now!” Y/N thought. Then Hongseok kissed Y/N’s neck as he licks and sucks it that made a hickey on her and his kisses went to her collarbones and reached her breast and he sucks her nipples while one of his hands massaged it.

“Ah! Hongseok!” Y/N moaned softly and he smirked at her.

“I love your tits so much!” Hongseok said and he suddenly slightly pull one of her nipples between his teeth that made Y/N moan his name loudly and slightly arched her back from the sensation. Then after Hongseok gave attention to her breast, he kisses and licks every inch of her body that made her moan non-stop and when he reached Y/N’s core, he looked at her and she tried to look at him but when he suddenly licks her core, Y/N throws her head back in the pillow because of the new sensation that she felt. Then Hongseok decided to lick and suck her core at a fast pace.

"Ah! Shit! Hongseok!" Y/N moaned and one of her hands went to his hair and caresses it and her eyes were closed because of Hongseok's tongue that doing its magic in her core.

“Keep moaning my name just like that! You’re so hot! Fuck!” Hongseok said as he continues to eat her out, Y/N cum in his mouth and looked at Y/N and licked his lips.

“Oh shit! He is just sexy and perfect!” Y/N thought. Then Hongseok went above her again and looked at her.

“Y/N, are you ready for me?” Hongseok asked and cupped Y/N’s face.

“Yes! I am ready for you Hongseok!” Y/N said and both of them smiled at each other.

“I love you so much Y/N!” Hongseok said.

“I love you too so much Hongseok!” Y/N said and he put a condom into his cock and aligned at her entrance and he slowly inserted his cock to her.

“Ah! Hongseok! I-it hurts! Shit!” Y/N screamed as she gripped his muscular biceps.

"Don't worry Y/N! You will feel pleasurable later!" Hongseok said and as he inserted his full cock into her, he kissed her lips to distract her from the pain, and in a few minutes, Y/N already adjusted to him

“Hongseok! You can move now.” Y/N said and Hongseok smirked at her and started to thrust his cock to her at a fast pace that made Y/N moan again loudly his name.

“Fuck! You’re so tight Y/N! Ah!” Hongseok said and he decided to go hard and rough at her that made Y/N screamed and arched her back that made their chests touch.

"I like your hole so much Y/N! Shit!" Hongseok said as his eyes were also closed as he feels very pleasurable because of Y/N's walls are clenching around his cock. As for Y/N who keeps moaning Hongseok's name like a mantra, she throws her head back to the pillow because of the intense pleasure and hugged his muscular back and dug her nails on it that made a sexy groan from Hongseok that made the room full of skin slapping sounds and sexy moans from them but as he keeps his stable pace at her, Y/N is becoming oversensitive in her core and…

“Hongseok! I will cum!” Y/N said.

"Me too! Cum with me Y/N!" Hongseok said and in a few minutes, both of them cum, and Hongseok collapsed on top of her but he went up quickly to remove the condom from him and threw it in the trash can and went back to lay beside Y/N and smiled at her.

“Hongseok, did you plan this?” Y/N asked and looked at him with a serious face and Hongseok laughed at her.

"Well, thanks to your friends and I had an opportunity to be with you tonight," Hongseok said.

“What? My friends planned this?” Y/N asked.

"This is not part of their plan and also, just think that we had a chance to know our feelings this night and also, I am sorry that I read your journal," Hongseok said and Y/N was shocked at his confession.

“What did you read in my journal?” Y/N asked.

"Umm… That you like me and my existence matters to you every day when we are in the office. I am glad that you have the also same feelings as me and you decided to give yourself to me." Hongseok said and winked at her and Y/N blushed and became shy as she covered her face under the blanket and Hongseok laughed at her and removed the blanket to her face.

"Y/N, you don't need to be shy, ok? Now, that we know our feelings let's just cherish each other every day." Hongseok said and smiled at her.

“Ok! Let’s just sleep now and I am now tired. Good night and I love you Hongseok!” Y/N said.

“Good night and I love you too Y/N!” Hongseok said and kissed her lips quickly and her forehead and they hugged each other as they went to sleep while it is still raining hard outside the house.

끝 THE END

Thank you for reading my one-shot smut fan fiction of Pentagon’s Hongseok!

Stay tuned for the next member! :)

고마워요 여러분! (Thanks, Everyone!)

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maximumninjavoid · 4 years ago

Text

Mining for Unobtanium part 21

Oh my gawd, yes, twenty one.

Ya’ll have been so good, you get TWO parts of this nonsense today. that’ll make your Monday suck less.....

I’m having a GREAT time writing this. I need to put it all into one BIG WORD DOC. an asbestos word doc.

Unbeta’d, we die like appliances . And cheap cars.

@fishcustardandclintbarton, that’s their line. I stole it.

At eleven packages arrived. One was from a lingerie shop I had browsed at online, Bordelle. Their stuff was exquisite, really, cutting edge fashion, and wickedly sexy. I assumed he either knew or guessed my sizes. I had already done my due diligence on the dreadmill, hoping some of this whatever this was would dissipate, but even an hour at an incline of three and a half didn't settle the starlings in my stomach. Those were no butterflies. I spent an indulgent amount of time in the bath, lotioned everything that could be with almond oil, touched up my cuticles, decided my pedicure was in good shape, exfoliating, buffing, it was madness. Nerves, I suppose. I mean, wouldn't you be? I began opening boxes. Stockings, of the most fine denier, that you could read a newspaper through, and a Cuban heel with a seam up the back. A suspender belt of black straps, almost like an open bottom girdle, with six garters. A matching balconette bra that would really display my decolletage. There didn't seem to be any panties. Hmmmmmm. There was a beautiful pair of shoes with a low heel and an ankle strap, which was amazing, because I don't have the grace or the talent to wear heels. The dress that accompanied it was simple and elegant, well made, and also rather retro in it's styling. Fitted bodice, sweetheart neckline, sleeves that ended just at the elbow, rather fit and flare in its styling, and the skirt was voluminous. My God, there was even a hat with a little veil and gloves. He didn't miss a trick. I began to dress. Fortunately two weeks in a hotel had not been all that bad for me. The circles under my eyes required minimal spackle, a bit of blush, a swipe of contour here and there, with my contacts in, eyeliner was out of the question and it hadn't occurred to me that I should pack lashes. Mascara it is then. Lip stain, blotted, fixed,reapplied, blotted again, this was NOT coming off, on my mask or on a shisuitAollar. I spritzed some scent in all the proper places and I hoped he wouldn't recognize it, and that it would please. I've never been one for traditional women's fragrance. It smells artificial on me. I like darker notes, spice, leather,and they're much better balanced in men's fragrances. I get lots of compliments, and never find myself wearing the same scent as anyone else. Seams straight. Pearls. Hat. Bag. Gloves. Aaaaaand it's 6:45. I've got fifteen minutes to make macrame out of my internal organs. And now, for entertainment, our brain will show a selection of every possible disaster scenario it can conjure, no matter how ridiculous. And I pace. I look at the clock again, and I swear it's moved backwards and now says 6:40. That cannot be correct. I shake my head. I pace some more. I pop breath mints like they're drugs I did in the eighties. I am not going to smoke. I might pass out. There's a knock on the door. My heart pounds. I walk to the door and try to breathe....{internal voice; don't lose your shit} I open the door and there he is. In a suit. Not just any suit. I mean, you can't. Not when you're built like a brick...... House ( apologies to the Commodores). I could write epic poems that would put the Iliad to shame just describing his fair countenance....but I would be doing him a disservice if I didn't spent some time on just how much style he possesses. Tailoring is one thing. Fit, proportion, but he has raised style to high art. Like old Hollywood meets English Nobility, and unless I miss my guess, that's a bespoke Huntsman suit. Made specifically for him. To his precise measurements, by HIS cutter, who has a file on him, and all their other clients; about their preferences, in colors, fabrics, linings, how they want their trousers, best preferences, THE WHOLE NINE YARDS. Did you see *The Kingsmen*? That place. It's actually Huntsman. I think they have been on Saville Row for over 100 years. Might even have a Royal charter. The suit is perfection. Fits literally like it was made for him..... Because it was. And it took twelve weeks and multiple fittings. Charcoal grey, with a hint of a chalk stripe, very subtle, crisp white shirt, double breasted vest, with a watch chain no less, and the trousers are perfectly tailored, break at the perfect spot, and his tie is a perfect four in hand, and the tie is splashy, but flawless. Me? Oh I'm taking this all in, trying to remember to breathe, and he takes my hand, bows a little, brings it to his lips and just as his mouth is almost at my hand he turns my wrist and kisses the bare skin above my glove, and looks up at me with that smirk he has. "Ma'am? Shall we?" I put my finger under his chin and raise him to his full height . " A moment, please. " I step toward him and slide my hands up each side of his chest and lean in toward him. "Before we leave I wanted to thank you for your excellent taste. Your gifts were lovely and I hope I do them justice" and I pressed my lips to his. He pulled me in closer and wrapped his arms around me, his tongue sought to part my lips and I allowed it, my hand reaching up for the side of his face, as our tongues explored each other's mouth, tentatively at first, quickly catching fire. I didn't want to stop. But I knew if I didn't, we'd be rutting in this doorway and whatever he had planned would be for nothing. Difficult as it was, I pulled back and smiled. " I could do this all night, happily. And more, or did you want to keep our original plan? " He adjusted himself ( I don't think he knows I saw that ) and took my arm in his. "Do you have everything?" " Thank you, yes. I have my key, my bag, I am in your hands" . He closed the door behind us and walked me down the hall. We exited the hotel through a side door and got into a car with tinted windows. " Please tell me I'm not wearing your lipstick" Smiling again, I remarked that he wasn't but if he wanted to... And he laughed and pulled me in for another kiss. We made out. Like teenagers. In the back of this heavily tinted car, and I couldn't get enough of his kisses. We drove for a bit, I'm not certain how long, I frankly was too caught up in kissing him, and occasionally pulling back to look into those eyes. We could have driven off the cliffs of Dover, I'd never have known. We turned down a side street, then an alley and stopped in the back of a building. He got out of the car and said he'd be around to get me. Ok. I'll behave. He opened my door, offered me his hand to help me out, said something to the driver and then took my arm and we walked the few steps to the door in the back of this building. Henry was grinning like the cat that are the canary, and I couldn't figure out why. He knocked on the door and after a minute or two, it opened, and we went down a short hallway into a kitchen where there was a booth, IN. THE. KITCHEN. It was all I could do to not scream and go completely fan girl, for at that moment I realized where we were. This was the imagination station; the chef's table at Gordon Ramsay 's restaurant on Royal Hospital Road. I turned to my dinner date and threw my arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. " How did you know? How did you manage this? You realize that this might just kill me....oh, right, we have a provision for that. " He bowed from the waist " My Lady is pleased? "

" Oh darling, pleased is not the word! " Dinner was spectacular. Course after course of the most delicious ingenious things the chefs could create, with pristine service and just the two of us. Sharing bites, oh you must taste this, ooh! This, taste! Stealing kisses in between courses, and such easy conversation. we talked about books, and we talked about music, and he ribbed me about my ‘frozen in amber’ musical taste and I told him I had checked out some of the bands on his running playlist and liked quite a few of them. we sat close to one another, thighs touching, holding hands between courses, I kept getting lost in those eyes, but I did manage to hold up my end of the conversation.

I asked him if he was disappointed about not drinking during dinner and he countered with “ I haven’t seen you smoke”. We agreed that kissing was worth some sacrifices. Truth be told I did want a cigarette, but not as much as I wanted him. Dessert, coffee, more conversation, and I asked what else he had up his sleeve. He smiled. “ There is that american expression about the gun show?” I threw back my head and practically roared. “ I have this well in hand. Shall we?” And he took my hand and we got up and walked out the same back way we had come in, to the waiting car.

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader

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yandere-romanticaa · 6 years ago

Note

Can I request HC’s of the 2p FACE family how they fell in love with there s/o and how they got them to date them. Love your work 💗

Yandere! 2p FACE // Scenarios

♡ 2p! France ♡

Francois would have a difficult time with wooing his s/o. When he first met them he had no idea what to do. He was pretty lazy and careless and he bearly took care of himself, let alone another human being. But when he first saw s/o something in him just clicked. He felt weird, he felt true joy for the first time in years.

So he made it his ultimate mission to make s/o his.

He is a very wealthy man, and he will pay people to follow his s/o around if he can't do it himself. The men have to take pictures but they must not be spotted by any means necessary. He quickly learns everything about his love and he will use it to his advantage.

One day he'll show up at a little café that s/o frequented. He would buy them a drink and would introduce himself. When he first heard s/o voice, his heart stopped beating in his chest for a good five seconds. François bearly got back to his senses, but thankfully s/o did not notice his momenteral distress. In that moment François realized that he must protect s/o, kidnap them even. But he won't get there just yet, he first will use his rugged charm on them. There is something oddly comforting about François. The the heavy smell of cigarettes and cologne will overpower s/o's senses and they will listen to everything François has to say.

From that day forward the two would always meet up at the same time, at the same café. François and s/o would discuss all about sorts of things, ranging from movies, books, hobbies, everything. Even if François looks uninterested or even downright bored at times, be assured that he is carefully listening to every word that s/o says.

One day though, everything changes when s/o mention that they have a crush on someone, and that someone isn't François.

Well shit.

François will quickly leave the café, leaving a confused s/o behind. He is furious. He is furious at himself for not acting sooner, and at the bastard that dared to take s/o's affection from him. That poor bastard will be found dead the next morning, brutally murdered. Naturally, s/o will be devastated by these news. When they turn to François for comfort, he'll be over the moon. That same night he will drug his s/o and lock them up in a nicely decorated room. The room has everything s/o could ever need and want, besides the Internet and freedom of course. When s/o wakes up and starts to cry, François is quick to tell them that they can be together now. He'll confess what he did as he hold his s/o tightly in his arms.

He can finally be with his sweet angel, and nothing can ruin this moment. Nothing.

♡ 2p! America ♡

Allen is pretty aggressive and straight forward about his crush. He will openly and shamelessly flirt with his s/o like his life depends on it. He also likes giving his s/o cute little gifts such as a teddy bear or a cool shirt he found. But what he especially likes is when s/o wears his jacket. s/o's scent always lingers on it and Allen absolutely loves it.

Depending on what kind of s/o Allen is after, he could easily charm them. If s/o is more free spirited and open, s/o will like his boisterous attitude. But if s/o is more on the quiet side, Allen won't mind. He loves a good challenge.

Mini adventures with Allen are pretty common and each is unique in it's own way, and all are equally memorable. After a while though, Allen will become more possessive of s/o. He will always want to know what are their plans, where will they go and with who. He'll claim that it's for their own good, that he just wants to protect them.

In reality, Allen is just terrified that s/o will find someone better then him and that they'll leave him for that person. Allen will soon start having horrible nightmares about s/o leaving him and he just can't take it anymore. He confesses how he truly feels, and to his surprise s/o accepts his feelings. The first couple of months everything will be perfect with Allen, aside from the occasional jealous outburst. But Allen isn't quite satisfied. He is horribly obsessive and possessive, and he will start following s/o around everywhere they go and he will never leave them alone. He quickly sets up security cameras in s/o's house, hidden of course.

Due to his possessive tendencies, Allen will snap and will kill every person he deems a treat to his and s/o's relationship. s/o will also notice that something is horribly wrong with Allen. He isn't the same person anymore, he is much more aggressive towards everyone and is much more snappy towards s/o.

The final straw was when s/o confronted Allen and told him that their relationship was over.

At first, Allen said nothing. He just stood like a statue while his eyes were glued on the floor. After a few awkward moments of standing around, s/o will try to leave the house, but not before Allen snaps back out of his daze and looks straight in to s/o's eyes.

That look in his eyes was the most terrifying thing s/o had ever seen. His eyes held so many different emotions within them. Anger, fury, worry... That's when he'll mumble a quiet "I love you" under his breath. But the fury is quickly replaced with insanity as Allen starts cackling like a mad man. He reaches for his baseball bat and knocks s/o out cold. He will make sure that the only person s/o ever loves is him, even if it costs him his sanity.

♡ 2p! Canada ♡

When Mattieu first saw s/o, he didn't much about them. Just a really cute stranger, that's all. When they first conversed in a store though, that's when s/o catches his attention. Mattieu didn't speak much, but he liked hearing s/o's voice. It was like music to his ears, he felt like he could listen to it forever. But he didn't want to rush in to things, after all s/o was still a stranger.

Some time passed after Mattieu and s/o's conversation, but he just couldn't for the life of him get them out of his head. He wanted to hear s/o's wonderful voice again, even if it was just for a second. And that's when he heard it. He heard s/o laughing not too far away from him. But that's when he also saw the person next to s/o.

They were hugging. And kissing.

...no big deal. It was natural for a person like s/o to be in a relationship. No big deal, right? Then... Why did Mattieu felt like punching the bastard? Why did he felt like bashing him with his hockey stick right then and there? He had no idea why and Mattieu quickly left.

A few days after that encounter, Mattieu felt strange. His heart literally ached and it wouldn't stop. Deep down he knew that he needed to see s/o, he just knew! Mattieu is a huge stalker, but he is still somewhat shy. He feels a bit self conscious about approaching his s/o and he has no idea how he was able to hold a normal conversation with them. In a way, Mattieu does know what he is doing is wrong. He knows that he shouldn't be following s/o around like this, like some creep but he just can't help himself. He needs to see s/o, one way or another.

His entire routine will soon change so that he can keep a better eye on s/o. But every passing day, the hatred for s/o's lover grows more and more intense. He just wants the idiot out of the picture as soon as possible and Mattieu will start plotting. He'll lure s/o's lover in to the woods and play with them for a little bit. He just wants to understand why, why would s/o fall for someone this weak? He wasn't even in the forest for more then 10 minutes and he already got stuck in a bear trap! If this idiot couldn't take care of himself, how the Hell was he going to take care of s/o?! Mattieu gives the bastard a slow and painful death. He wants him to feel the same kind of pain he felt when he saw s/o kissing or just generally being around this guy.

When the body is found and identified, s/o would be crushed. They refuse to leave their house for days, but that's when the letters start arriving. They were pretty simple at the beginning, only containing a small heart that was drawn on the paper. But over time there will be some things written on the letters. Again, Mattieu is still pretty shy about the idea of talking to his s/o, but this was a decent way to express his feelings. At the time s/o will not accept Mattieu's feelings because of the death of their previous lover, but unlike the rest of the 2p! family, Mattieu actually has patience.

He'll wait patiently for s/o to recover, all the while sending them the sweetest letters he could write. Mattieu and s/o will eventually get together, but s/o never learned the truth about who really ended their previous lovers life...

♡ 2p! England ♡

Oliver met his s/o when they stopped by his bakery. And right from the start Oliver is completely smitten by them. He just finds s/o extremely precious, from their manurisms to the way they talk, everything! Since Oliver has a really cute bakery with really delicious baked goods, s/o will be a regular customer.

He loves developing new recepies and he loves feeding his s/o. His day always gets much brighter when s/o comes to him. Oliver will gladly help s/o with anything they need, from homework to chores, Oliver will do his best to make s/o's life at least a little bit easier!

With Oliver it will start out as a puppy crush. His s/o will constantly be on his mind, so much so that he sometimes can't even work properly! He sometimes gets tounge tied when speaking with s/o, but s/o finds that indearing rather then awkward. It's really hard not fall for a sweetheart like Oliver, and s/o will soon confess to Oliver.

The second Oliver heard this he started to cry tears of joy and he twirled s/o around in the air. He also told s/o about how he felt and that's how the relationship started. But everything was just so intense with Oliver. Of course, he was always the perfect gentleman and he made sure that s/o was happy but something just felt off about him.

Whenever s/o would bring a friend over to Oliver's bakery, he would start to act strangely. On the surface he is his usual friendly self but one good look in his eyes and pure madness could be seen in them. This went on for a while until s/o asked Oliver what was wrong with him. Naturally, Oliver said that he is fine and that he couldn't be happier since he has the perfect partner by his side. But s/o's friends also noticed that Oliver seemed off lately.

One day, some of s/o's friends came to the bakery but nobody was inside which was really weird. The moment they stepped inside the strong smell of sugar and some other weird substance hit their nostrils. The smell was coming from the basement and everyone climbed down. What they found was horrible.

In the middle of the room was Oliver, but he had a bloody knife in his hand and his clothes were bloody as well. And in front of Oliver was a mangled corpse. Everyone screamed as Oliver laughed. The group started to run, but Oliver was faster. He locked the door and quickly knocked out everyone.

The next day when s/o came, Oliver offered them some new cupcakes to try. The moment s/o put them in their mouth, they felt like gagging. These cupcakes were weird and they had a strong metallic taste too. When s/o asked Oliver what did he put in the cupcakes he told them that it is a secret, bit s/o could see it if they followed him to the basement. Not really thinking about it, s/o wordlessly followed Oliver.

It was pitch black in the basement, but that metallic smell was much stronger in the basement. When s/o asked Oliver if they could leave, Oliver quickly covered their mouth and turned on the lights. In the basement were s/o's friends, completely mutilated. Oliver cackled like a madman as he watched s/o who was desperately trying to open the basement door, but with no success.

The look of pure terror on s/o's face was adorable to Oliver. And now, he can look at it every single day!

#yandere #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #yandere hetalia #yandere hetalia axis powers #axis powers ヘタリア #axis powers hetalia #face family #2p's #yandere 2p's #yandere 2p face #yandere 2p america #yandere 2p canada #yandere 2p france #yandere 2p england #aph x reader

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yallreddieforthis · 6 years ago

Text

Believer

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language and Richie being Richie)

Words: 7k

Soulmate AU. Takes place in 2004. Humor, banter, first meeting, first date, first kiss.

And wow. Wow and a half. Richie couldn’t have even dreamed up a guy this cute, although admittedly he’d been picturing some dude in baggy jeans and a beanie with a hacky sack this whole time. Which couldn’t be further from this...absolute snack of startled, prep-school perfection.

Oh my fucking god, I hate that song.

Y’know, Richie has seen worse. Some girl in his English class has damn, how you fit all that in them jeans? so really, anything after that is an improvement.

And it’s not like the soul mark is constantly on his mind or anything. It’s on his back—literally, he can’t see it without two mirrors and he had to have Bill read it out to him when it first showed up—but every once in awhile he remembers that someday he’s going to hear oh my fucking god, I hate that song and he’ll just know. Well, maybe more than every once in awhile. It’s kind of like a recurring daydream. That, and what he’d do if he suddenly became Cyclops from the X-Men.

Fifteen year old Richie was positive it was going to be like some punk-ass rocker chick standing outside Hot Topic and reacting to 98 Degrees over the loudspeaker. At least, that was his first thought. And it’s not like it’s going to be a problem if that’s what ends up happening—because no matter what or who else he’s into, Richie is positive he’ll always have a deep-down internal hard-on for punk-ass rocker chicks—but lately he’s had this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that… Well, it could just be like, a memory of a dream or some shit. And Richie certainly does not believe in dreams coming true, but it wasn’t until well after he got a soul mark that he admitted to himself that his secret thing for Chad Michael Murray is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Richie thinks it would’ve been easier to admit to being The Bi-est if it hadn’t been goddamn Chad that forced him to realize it. Like if it had been Orlando Bloom in Pirates or something when he’d been like alright, time to fuckin’ fess up . But he explained away his crush on Orlando as like, well, Orlando is cool as fuck. Duh. Who doesn’t want to blow him?

Same with like, David Boreanaz. Richie is convinced that even the straightest of straight guys fell desperately in love with Angel when they watched Buffy. He could stick his stake in anyone and they’d thank him.

But Chad...mm. Richie is the only guy he knows who watches One Tree Hill. He’s sure about that because every joke he’s ever made about Lucas Scott has been met by blank stares by Bill and Bev and even Ben, who, though ostensibly straight, would totally love One Tree Hill if Richie ever got the balls to ask him to watch it with him. The only people in the whole world he has to discuss it with are the group of girls who sit next to him in Physics. So actually, Richie blames One Tree Hill for his D in Physics. If he hadn’t started talking to those girls—and he probably wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been discussing the show—he might’ve been able to learn about science instead of playing Fuck Marry Kill every period. So even though it truly is the worst show he has ever watched on purpose, once a week, like clockwork, Richie sits his ass down in front of the computer to jerk it to Blondie McKenDoll because...what are you gonna do.

It ended up being a blessing in disguise because he decided to let his friends know he’s bi and a One Tree Hill fan in one fell swoop. He only got shit on about the One Tree Hill thing, especially because he was the one who used to give Ben shit about Dawson’s Creek. So really, that was only fair.

Still, that was nothing compared to the shit he got for having a soul mark that’s like...inches from being a tramp stamp. Secretly (and also not-so-secretly), Richie loves it. It’s deliciously tacky, the handwriting is almost as bad as his; really, he couldn’t have asked for something trashier. He might’ve died of shame if he’d gotten delicate, loopy cursive around his forearm like Bill it’s lovely to meet you, finally Denbrough. Anyway, anybody who writes that nicely would never be compatible with Richie. And god help whatever poor guy has a soul mark in Richie’s handwriting somewhere on his body. Richie can only pray it’s somewhere unobtrusive.

The messy printing is only a small part of what has convinced Richie his soulmate is a boy. It’s mostly just a gut feeling, something he doesn’t want to acknowledge because he can’t explain it. It feels stupid to bank on something like that.

Richie is low-key disappointed by the fact that he's never seen the handwriting from his soul mark crop up in any of the school graffiti. He's even gone and tagged the bathroom stalls a couple of times, in the hopes that whatever guy it is will see it. And deep down, Richie knows he probably wouldn't have done that if he'd thought his soulmate was a girl.

They're all reasonably convinced that Bill's soulmate is British, based on the whole lovely thing, and Richie has taken to mimicking the kind of accent he thinks she might have. Bill keeps being like I'm not gonna match with the qu-qu-queen, Richie, but if she's the kind of girl who goes around telling people it's lovely to meet you... Richie's not saying she will be like some kind of aristocratic socialite, just that she might be. He thinks Bill should probably be taking steps to prepare for that sort of scenario, although he's not sure what those steps might be. Cotillion? Cigar smoking? Tea making?

Either way, Bill has time. There aren’t any British girls in Derry. No way is he going to meet her until at least college.

In any case, thinking about what song he and his soulmate can hate together to be a lot better pastime than whatever the fuck Mr. Shulman is writing about on the whiteboard. Richie feels like he can't take a hundred percent of the blame for failing to pay attention. The green marker Mr. Shulman is using is frayed, fading, and praying for the sweet release of the trash can, and it's not like Richie can really see the board from the back of the room on the best of days. His parents have suggested, well, more like insisted he sit up front but like...Bev sits in the back, and sitting up front would put a damper on the bubble gum blowing contests they have when Mr. Shulman isn't looking. Tragically, his parents probably wouldn't agree with his reasoning. But whatever.

Richie has a list in the back of his notebook, which he relies on his inscrutable handwriting to protect from prying eyes, of every song he's ever heard that he immediately disliked. He started it on his fifteenth birthday with a list of past horrors and adds on every time Creed releases a new single.

Titanic song—My Heart Will Go On

I Hope You Dance

Hero—Enrique Iglesias (although Richie has admittedly crossed out and rewritten this one several times because, you know, Enrique)

Soak Up the Sun—that chick that’s dating Lance Armstrong

Summer Girls

I Knew I Loved You

Your Body Is a Wonderland

I’m Like a Bird

Anything that has ever been on American Idol

And so on. He's got 37 entries so far, and it's been two and a half years in the making. He's just in the process of deciding whether A Thousand Miles deserves a spot on the list when Bev nudges his shoulder and hands him a note under the desk, written in Ben's even, exacting printing.

Tuesday: Circle one

- National Treasure

- Mean Girls

- The Passion? (probably not, I know)

- Saw

- Troy

Richie truly sees no point in reading further because Bev has only circled National Treasure and Mean Girls and there is a zero percent chance Ben won't side with her , but he'll be damned if he's not going to give his opinion anyway. He scribbles a big fat line through The Passion, because although he knows Ben's AP history class will give him extra credit for seeing it, but he's not sure he loves Ben (or rather, Ben's history teacher) enough to sit through three hours of Jim Caviezel getting whumped.

Apropos of nothing, a song begins playing in Richie’s head; a good one, thankfully. Richie has very little control over his internal radio and sometimes it gets stuck on Radio Disney, so some Weird Al is a welcome reprieve.

And the guide... Richie mutters while tapping on his desk.

Said not to stand

But that’s a demand

That I couldn’t meet

I got on my feet

And stood up instead

And knocked of my head, you see

Tell meeee…

From Richie’s other side, Bill’s elbow collides with his ribs.

“You’re doing the th-thing again,” he mutters under his breath. Richie rolls his eyes. He doesn’t understand why anyone— his math teacher included—would not be delighted by a surprise rendition of a Weird Al song, regardless of where in the song he happens to start singing.

Back to the movie list. Everything else...hmm. Troy looks badass—and stars Richie's one true love, Orlando Bloom. There's a good chance he's gonna be naked in it too. Richie draws a dick next to Troy as part of the decision-making process. He knows Ben only put Saw on the list because he thought Richie would like it. There's no way Ben actually wants to watch Wesley from Princess Bride get chopped up. Richie scratches Saw out and writes you're not fooling me next to it.

He's heard good things about Mean Girls, but still... Bev probably only circled it because she knows it's Ben's first choice. Sometimes being best friends with a couple makes Richie want to spray them with projectile vomit. But, you know, in the best way. He has no particular objections to Mean Girls himself, except that National Treasure promises to be amazingly, spectacularly adventure-y and ridiculous, and Richie is always down for that kind of action. In fact, he would just as soon use the advantage of a half day where his parents are at work to watch Jumanji on the big TV in the living room, but...

Fuck it. He's feeling generous today, and he kind of wants to witness Ben vibrating with excitement when he sees the note so...he circles Mean Girls and passes it back.

Ben's gasp upon receiving it is worth it.

Apparently, Derry High isn't the only school having a minimum day because the mall is fucking packed with teenagers. The concession stand line is super long, but where else is Richie supposed to find a nauseating selection of overpriced candy and a bucket of popcorn that could feed a small village? After dousing the popcorn with butter to the point where Ben almost gags, they make their way into the theater to find seats. Which are shitty almost-front-row ones because it took them so goddamn long to get snacks that those are the only four seats together by the time they get in there. Lucky the guy sitting in front of Richie is super short. Bev and Ben aren't so lucky—the curls of the guy to his left are almost as impressive as Richie's, and the guy in front of Bev is just obviously really tall.

The previews haven't even started yet—it's just the shitty like don't talk in the theater ads and dumb TV trivia questions.

Richie feels incumbent to entertain his friends at all times, but especially in moments like this, where nothing else entertaining is forthcoming.

Uh huh, he whispers, starting up a beat on his thigh. Uh huh. Extra Cheese.

Bill sighs in a long-suffering sort of way beside him.

Uh huh. Uh huh. Save a piece for meeeee…

He turns to Bev and starts whispering the rest of the lyrics directly into her ear because he can’t not.

Pizza party at your house

I went just to check it out

Nineteen extra-larges, what a shame

No one came

We sat eatin’ all alone

You said, take the pizza—

“Shh!” Bev puts a finger over his mouth. “You’re going to get us kicked out again.”

That’s fair. Although, in Richie’s defense, it’s not like they missed out on much last time. The Village was supposed to be shitty anyway.

Mean Girls is, as it turns out, almost as interesting as the antics of the people in the row in front of them. Curly and the tall one are a couple, clearly, and Richie feels for Shorty The Third Wheel, whose face he has yet to get a good look at. His hair is as neat as Richie’s is messy though—the kind of perfect where Richie can’t tell if he tried to make it look like that or if that’s just how it is. It’s just long enough to sweep over the tips of his ears and to almost touch the back collar of the polo shirt he’s wearing. He sits with his legs crossed in front of him, which Richie hasn’t been able to do since eighth grade.

The couple is cute, like stupid cute. The tall one is black and like, easily a ten no matter what your taste is; Curly is white with defined cheekbones and a cardigan. Tall has his arm around Curly, who has leaned into his neck. It makes Richie at least ten times gayer than he was before he walked into this theater.

Halfway through the movie, Richie has finished his monster popcorn and started in on the Milk Duds. He’s getting intense gay vibes from Aaron, who is supposed to be hot but is a little too Mister Muscles for Richie’s taste. Of course, Richie also likes Chad Michael Murray so… Even Richie’s taste doesn’t match with Richie’s taste. Whatever. At least his mouth and brain are in agreement on the subject of Sour Patch Kids, which is what really matters in the end.

But anyway, Richie prepares to come away from this movie a changed man with a new appreciation for Jingle Bell Rock by the time the credits roll. He’s definitely going to have to see this at least four to sixteen more times—or however many he can get away with before his friends threaten to kill him—because he missed a lot of the jokes being distracted by the way Shorty was craning his neck to look up at the screen. Richie pops the last of his Starburst into his mouth without unwrapping it. If there was an Olympics category for unwrapping a starburst with your tongue, Richie would be a gold medalist.

“Did you finish all that?” Ben gasps, leaning over and gaping at the graveyard of candy wrappers across Richie’s lap. Richie nods, burps, and rubs his belly like a proud expectant mother. He spits out the Starburst wrapper and hands it to Ben with a wink because he knows Ben’s too polite to drop that shit on the floor for the ushers to clean up.

“Well,” says Beverly, taking a final, bubbly sip of her Icee, “when you give birth to that thing later tonight, don’t call me to cry about it.”

And because she gave him such a perfect opportunity—and because he absolutely will be calling her from the bathroom later tonight—Richie decides to finally finish his song.

Why’d you have to go and make me so constipated?

This really is a—

He doesn’t get any further because a sharp voice cuts in from directly in front of him.

“Oh my fucking god, I hate that song.”

And then Richie’s back is attacked by a thousand mosquitos at once—or at least that’s what it feels like. He overheard a guy on the quad once say that the sensation from his mark when he met his soulmate gave him a boner, but apparently it’s different for everyone because all this does is make Richie want to light himself on fire.

Which is why when Shorty in the J. Crew polo wheels around to look at him, Richie is awkwardly shifting, trying to find a way to itch his back on the seat. Maybe not the first impression he was going for, but just then, Shorty’s eyes lock on to Richie’s as he locates the source of the song, so yeah. There it is.

Before either of them can say anything else, Shorty yelps and grabs at one of his legs. That’s when he seems to regain the power of speech.

“It’s you?” he says, glaring sharply at Richie. “You’re the reason I haven’t been able to wear shorts for three fucking years?”

People are starting to leave the theater, which Richie hardly registers because he is having a full-on, swear to god Disney moment. This guy is like a...a bear cub. Not like hairy— he’s actually noticeably not hairy—but in the sense that he’s small and huggable-looking and Richie wants to pick him up and squeeze him but would probably get mauled if he tried to do so.

“Do you even—oh, sorry,” Shorty says, apologizing to the person who is trying to scoot past him. Then he turns back to Richie and flicks his eyes over him; just like a quick once-over. It’s impossible to tell if he likes what he sees. Richie notices he is still rubbing his calf.

“Itches like a motherfucker, doesn’t it?” he says, giving up on his seat-wiggling and reaching behind himself to scratch at his soul mark. Unfortunately, it turns out to be one of those itches that hurts when you scratch it, so he pulls his fingers back with an, “ow, son of a bitch!”

Shorty hisses.

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Tall leans over Curly to ask Shorty—Eddie. Eddie.

“Fuck,” says Eddie, then he takes in a deep breath, rubbing his leg like he’s dying to scratch it. “This asshole—” he points an accusing finger in Richie’s direction, “—is the reason I’ve had those Weird Al lyrics about being—sorry, excuse us—about being constipated on my leg since before the goddamn song even came out.”

Tall and Curly both swivel around to stare at Richie. That gets Bev’s attention.

“Wait, Richie,” she says, grabbing his arm. “Is this—”

“The love of my life,” Richie announces proudly, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. “Eddie.”

There is silence for a second during which Richie can almost see smoke coming out of Eddie’s ears.

“Fuck,” he says again. For all his preppy khakis and neatly combed hair and pristine white sneakers, he sure has a potty mouth. Richie couldn’t imagine anything better.

Bev gapes too, tapping Ben rapidly on the knee to get his attention. Curly’s eyes narrow as he examines Richie critically.

“Eddie, are you sure this is him?” he asks, still staring.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, pulling up his pant leg and peering at his leg. “Yeah, cause—you know what? You can’t really see it in—”

“Excuse me,” calls an usher from the end of the aisle. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Richie calls back cheerfully. “This is my soulmate! Isn’t he—”

“Right,” says the usher, blank faced in spite of this being the greatest of all possible happenings. “You think maybe you can move this party out to the lobby? I need to get the floor cleaned before the next showing.”

Eddie practically disappears into his friends during the awkward group shuffle out of the theater, but Richie walks backwards, keeping his eyes on all five feet and...four inches? three? of the gorgeousness that is Eddie.

Out in the light of the lobby he’s even better. Soft-looking brown hair, lightly freckled cheeks and arms, and—once he pulls up his pant leg—a soul mark that looks like the logo for someone’s z-list death metal band. The skin around it is pink and blotchy, but Richie can see the lines already fading. The only word that’s really fully legible is constipated. Which is hilarious, so Richie can’t understand why Eddie seems so ticked off.

Not that it fazes him in the slightest. It is actually written in the stars or the Book of Fate or whatever that he and Eddie are meant for each other. They’re destined to fall in love. If Eddie is mad at him now, he won’t be later.

“Whoa,” says Curly, tracing his fingers over Eddie’s soul mark. “Yeah. There it goes.”

“I’m Mike,” says Tall, who, now that they’re all standing, is actually the same height as Richie. He extends a hand, which Richie takes and then uses to yank him in for a hug. He smells amazing.

“Richie,” he says into Mike’s shoulder, before next trying to plaster himself to Curly. He hears Ben start to make introductions with Mike before Eddie’s voice cuts in.

“Stop,” he orders, running both hands through his hair, which bounces immediately back into its immaculate style. “Okay? Just—this is not happening right now.”

“Tell that to my heart, cutie,” says Richie. “And by my heart I mean my—”

“My mom?” Eddie says, like he’s name-dropping—like that should mean anything to Richie.

“God, if she’s half as cute as you, then hell yes.”

“No,” says Eddie. “I mean like, my mom. Does not know. That I’m gay. Fuck. Like, she has no fucking idea. And she’s gonna have a shit fit when she finds out. I keep telling her I don’t even have a soul mark yet—she never would’ve let me out of the house again if she’d seen it.”

“So?” says Richie. “Now it’s going away; now she doesn’t have to see it.” Seems more like a solution than a problem if you ask him.

“Honestly I was hoping not to even have to deal with any of this shit until like after college,” Eddie says. He looks like he’s considering just making a fucking break for the door. Like, don’t want to deal with this now, bye! Which, fair.

It’s a lot to roll with, especially just out of fucking nowhere like that. Richie probably should be freaking out way more than he is right now.

The idea of not seeing Eddie again until after college sounds terrible, but he doesn’t want to admit that. Going around like, yeah, I met my soulmate but he had a meltdown and ran away so… Like, he could do it if it’s what Eddie wanted. But he really hopes Eddie changes his mind.

“Do you want me to just like...fuck off?” he asks Eddie, quietly enough that the others won’t hear him.

Eddie frowns. “I don’t—”

“I mean...I guess we don’t have to like, you know, go for it now. Like. If you’re not into it, it’s cool. No offense taken. Maybe I’ll… I dunno, find you on Friendster in a few years? When things are easier? Or you can look for me. It’s Richie T-O-Z-”

Eddie cringes, checks his phone. “Shit, I have to go. My mom left me three messages; she’s probably already in the parking lot.”

And before Richie can even get upset about the idea that his soulmate is about to walk off into the sunset without so much as a dramatic monologue about how he’ll never give up on their eventual theoretical love, Eddie bites his lip and looks up into Richie’s face. His eyes are big and brown and make Richie feel like his ribcage is liquefying.

“Gimme your phone,” he says. Richie’s heart leaps into his throat as he pulls it out of his pocket.

Eddie takes it from him. “You should really get a case for this thing,” he says, clicking away on the number pad.

Their fingers brush as Eddie hands back his phone, with one last long look back as he scampers away.

Richie starts typing before he’s even left the lobby.

From: Richie

hi its richie, the actual love of ur life

From: Eddie

jesus i havent even reached the parking lot

dont text me too much its 15c a text, my mom will catch on

From: Richie

can i see u again

i miss u already

From: Eddie

i can probably get out again saturday

From: Richie

saturday? what about tmrw?

From: Eddie

im lucky if i get saturday

saturday, yes or no

From: Richie

YES OF COURSE

meet me in front of the arcade 1st and Adams

…

ok?

From: Eddie

Yeah 2pm stop texting me

Eddie—god even thinking his name brings up a rush of butterflies—is standing outside the arcade looking about as comfortable as if it were a strip club. He’s wearing shorts, apparently for the first time in years. Something tells Richie that Eddie’s not going to be one of those people who gets their soul mark tattooed on after meeting their soulmate. The jury is still out on Richie—he kinda misses his already.

In the five days since they met, Richie has outlined itineraries for at least three different honeymoons and started a shortlist of names their adoptive children. He hopes Eddie also dreams of naming his sons after the kids from South Park.

“So,” says Richie, leaning down and looking Eddie in the eye, “yes or no to kissing on the first date?”

“Who said this was a date?” Eddie scoffs, opening the door to the arcade and rolling his eyes.

Richie has as much of a plan as he’s ever made in his life for this afternoon. First it’s the arcade where he can show off his bitchin’ Dance Dance Revolution skills, then to Johnny Rockets next door for a burger to remember, then hopefully back to Richie’s car to make out if they really hit it off.

Richie honestly cannot wait to show Eddie his car. It’s super impressive, even though it’s missing a bumper and the back passenger side door is held on with duct tape. Is a handjob too much to hope for on the first date? He doesn’t want to pressure Eddie or anything, but Richie is ready to give Eddie a handjob yesterday. So as soon as Eddie’s ready to rumble, they can get down.

Richie brought both his windshield covers just in case—the blue one and the Ren and Stimpy.

Turns out there’s a long line for DDR, which Richie probably should have counted on since it’s Saturday. Perfect opportunity for getting to know each other though. If Eddie would just like, you know, talk. He’s silently chewing on his lip instead, brow furrowed.

“Come here often?” Richie asks him.

Eddie shakes his head. “More like never. My mom won’t let me. Says the arcade is full of germs. She thinks I’m at Stan’s house watching High Society again . ”

“What’s High Society?”

“Really?” Eddie looks up at him. “You haven’t seen—like, with Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra? Bing Crosby? No?”

“So it’s like...a super old movie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “What—I’m just curious—what’s your favorite movie?”

“Definitely The Big Lebowski,” says Richie right away. “That’s easy. Best movie of all time. Oh, except maybe White Chicks. Pulp Fiction. Scary Movie 3.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie whispers, apparently to his shoes.

“Please don’t tell me you preferred Scary Movie 2. That might be a dealbreaker. Soulmate or not.”

“But you do like scary movies?” Eddie perks up a little. “Have you seen Wait Until Dark with Audrey Hepburn? It’s super scary.”

“Audrey Hepburn? Ohhhh, that chick in The Philadelphia Story? My grandma makes us watch that every year when we come over for Thanksgiving.”

Eddie purses his lips. “That’s Katharine Hepburn.”

“Are they sisters?” Richie asks.

“No.”

Richie isn’t worried. Eddie probably just hasn’t seen, like, Dude Where’s My Car yet. Easily fixed. His parents will be out of town next weekend; Eddie can stay over and they can watch it. That and definitely Catch Me If You Can.

He pitches the idea to Eddie, whose eyes light up at the mention of Catch Me If You Can.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans, “Leonardo DiCaprio was like, my sexual awakening.”

“For sure,” says Richie. “He was such a badass in Gangs of New York. Which one did it for you? Was it The Man In the Iron Mask?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s being an idiot. “Uh, you’re guessing The Man In the Iron Mask before Titanic?”

“Really?” Richie winces, super disappointed and unable to hide it. “Titanic, Eddie?”

Eddie smirks. “No. Romeo and Juliet. You’re up.”

Richie tries to decide whether Romeo and Juliet is a better or worse sexual awakening than Titanic as he chooses a song. Richie practices DDR every weekend the way some people faithfully go to church, so he’s pretty confident he’ll blow Eddie away no matter what.

Still, just to be safe, he picks easy mode when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. Eddie’s never been here. He doesn’t need to know that it took Richie six months of practice before he finished a song without failing out. It’s gonna look cool either way.

And, okay, in hindsight...these brand-new Dickies are still kind of stiff. They might not have been the best choice for DDR. He just figured they’d make a better impression than the old ripped ones he was wearing when they met. Eddie strikes Richie as the kind of guy who doesn’t wear the same pants two days in a row; he doesn’t need to know that Richie (up until the day before yesterday) only had the one pair. Richie has decided he might even be convinced to break his strict rule of not throwing out pants until they’ve worn through in the crotch. All for love.

Eddie smiles brightly at his abysmal score. “Wow, that was pretty good. Can I try?”

Damn, that smile. Whipped already and they haven’t even kissed yet. Richie steps down with a bow.

Eddie stands tentatively on the DDR platform.

“Um…” He looks at the screen. “This one?”

And before Richie can stop him, he’s picked a crazy song on hard mode. If it were Bill, Richie would settle in and prepare laugh his ass off. Maybe even try to grab his camera from the car.

“So you just like, step on the arrows when they show up on the screen?” Eddie asks while the game loads.

“Uh, yeah,” says Richie. “But you know—don’t worry if you fail out. Took me awhile to get the hang of it.” He winks.

“Okay,” says Eddie. He rolls his neck and shakes out his arms and… Whoa, why does Richie suddenly feel like he’s about to pop a boner?

And then, uh. And then Eddie is nothing but a flurry of legs, jumping, twirling, hopping back and forth. He claps and snaps with the beat—god, he knows how to use his fucking body. Thank god for Richie’s stiff new pants. He bends a little at the knee, letting his sweater drape down over his lap. Other people in the arcade are stopping what they’re doing to watch—he’s that good.

After what could have been either ten seconds or ten years—but nothing in between—the song ends and Eddie bounces lightly off the mat. Richie’s throat goes dry.

“How’d I do?” Eddie’s little smirk is positively edible.

“Marry me,” Richie croaks. “I was gonna offer to teach you to play but, uh…”

Eddie laughs. “Mike has that game,” he says, still smiling. “We play it all the time at his house. It’s even harder with the shitty fold-out mat.”

“Well there go my plans,” Richie says, throwing his arms in the air. “It was gonna be a DDR lesson. A sexy one. And you’ve gone and totally schooled me, so now I’m just gonna have to try to impress you with Halo.”

Mercifully, Eddie turns out to be absolute shit at first-person shooters, so Richie isn’t totally humiliated on his home turf. But Eddie creams him at the driving games almost as bad as he did at DDR.

“Jesus, dude,” Richie says, watching Eddie punch his initials into the hi score list. EFK. “What kind of car do you drive?”

“Pffft,” Eddie shakes his head. “My mom won’t even let my get my permit yet.”

“Wait,” says Richie. “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Eddie tells him. Shut the fuck up. No way.

“You’re older than me?! But you’re so short! I thought you were like sixteen.”

Eddie shoots him a baffled glare. “You know that’s not how it works, right?”

“Well, how old did you think I was?” Richie asks.

“I guess I thought you were eighteen too?” says Eddie, shrugging. “I mean…” he gestures vaguely upward.

Richie raises his eyebrows.

“Alright, touche,” Eddie admits. “But seriously, how old are you? I’m gonna feel really weird if you’re just like, the world’s tallest freshman and you’re hitting on me.”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next month. So we’re practically the same age.”

Eddie nods. “But as far as driving, yeah. I don’t like, have my own car. So yeah, technically I could get a license but I don’t have anything to actually drive yet.”

“My dad gave me his old car and basically let me destroy it while I was practicing,” says Richie. “Your parents don’t trust you with their cars?”

Eddie hesitates for a second before looking away. “It’s just me and my mom,” he says quickly.

“Oh,” says Richie stupidly, feeling like an absolute tool. “Oh yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie tells him, and it sounds like he mostly means it. “I was so young when he died, I don’t even remember him. It’s just that my mom…”

“She sounds like a hardass,” says Richie, drumming on the Whack-a-Mole console while Eddie grabs the mallet.

“It’s not— wham— that,” he says, eyes darting between the moles. “It’s like… My mom acts like she wishes she’d never even —wham— given birth to me.”

“Ow,” Richie grimaces. “Harsh.”

“No,” Eddie corrects. “I don’t mean it like— wham —that. Just that like I think she would rather they’d never— wham —cut the umbilical cord. Like she wishes we were still— wham wham wham —attached.”

“Yikes,” says Richie, because that’s all he can think of to say.

“Big yikes,” Eddie agrees.

“I’m guessing you don’t go to Derry High, then,” says Richie, resting his head against the machine while Eddie continues to annihilate moles. “Makes sense that I never saw you around, cause I totally would’ve remembered seeing that ass before.”

He hesitates before adding, “I even wrote some graffiti in the bathroom stalls so you’d recognize my handwriting.”

Eddie’s nose crinkles adorably at that. “First of all—no. I’m homeschooled. Maybe because my mom doesn’t want me making too many friends, or maybe even just to keep me from using public bathrooms.”

“How do you know Mike and Curly then?” Richie asks.

“Cur—Stanley? Shit,” Eddie says as he misses a mole. “Mike and Stan are homeschooled too. We go to the same testing center in Bangor. And—ha!—I dunno? I sensed their gayness?”

“Yeah I sensed their gayness too,” Richie says. “By the way they were all over each other.”

“No, actually. It wasn’t like that. I knew both of them before they knew each other,” says Eddie. “I was there when they met.”

“Wow.” Richie uses his fist to hit a mole he thinks Eddie’s about to miss. “soul mark surprise?”

“Not really,” says Eddie. “Stan had a thing on his wrist that said, hi, I’m Mike , in Mike’s handwriting, so I kind of connected the dots and introduced them.”

“I’m the third wheel with Bev and Ben all the time,” Richie tells him, leaning over to collect tickets from the Whack-a-Mole.

“They’re not usually too—wait, what’s that?” Eddie asks, snatching something out of Richie’s back pocket. He unfolds the piece of paper.

“Oh, well, uh,” Richie says, thinking for the first time that it’s kind of embarrassing that he kept the list in the first place, “I just… Well, my soul mark said oh my fucking god, I hate that song, so I kind of like kept a list of songs I thought he—they might be talking about.”

Eddie snorts. “I have every single one of these on my iPod,” he says. “And that’s like, my all-time favorite song.” He points at I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden. Oh god.

“Do you really hate Weird Al?” Richie asks him on their way to the air hockey table. “Cause I gotta say, I don’t know if this,” he gestures between them, “is gonna work out if you don’t want to hear the Angry White Boy Polka at least three times a day.”

“No,” says Eddie quickly. “Weird Al is great. It’s just, you know, the soul mark thing. Like I got it and I was like, what the fuck is this shit? And I guess it was kind of a relief when the song came out because I really hadn’t figured out like...what context I might hear that in. But then I just got sick of associating the song with like...true love. Cause it’s like, ridiculous and gross, you know?”

“I guess,” says Richie. “I dunno. I thought that was pretty fuckin’ romantic.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” says Eddie. “That’s the kind of romance I’d expect from anyone who hasn’t watched Bing Crosby serenade Grace Kelly.”

“Damn, Eddie. You’re a pretentious little dick, you know that?” Richie says, picking up the puck.

“And you’re a goddamn mess,” Eddie shoots back without pausing. “Your serve.”

Richie is already balls deep in love by the the game ends. To be fair, he’s not sure how he was supposed to concentrate on the game with Eddie giggling and doing a little dance every time he scored. Eddie may have kicked his ass, but Richie walks out the door of the arcade feeling like he’s the one who came out on top.

“What’s next?” Eddie asks, backing out the door of the arcade, catching his new sticky hand toy on Richie’s glasses on purpose.

“Road head?” Richie asks hopefully, jutting his chin in the direction of his car and grabbing onto his glasses to keep them from being pulled right off his face.

“You wish,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I haven’t even decided if I want a second date yet.”

“Ah ha!” Richie points at him. “So you admit this is a first date?”

Eddie laughs and raises his eyebrows. “I dunno. Is it?”

“Let’s ask Johnny Rocket,” says Richie, cocking his head to the right. “Got time for a burger? We can split a milkshake.”

Eddie gives him a considering sort of look. “I could probably squeeze it into my schedule.”

Ohhhhhh the things Richie wants to squeeze… With great mental fortitude, he refrains from commenting. Instead Eddie opens the door for him and they grab two menus and a booth.

“What are you gonna get?” Richie asks.

Eddie peers at him from over the menu. “Depends who’s paying. But we’re definitely not sharing a milkshake. I can already tell you’re a dessert hog. I’d end up getting like one sip.”

Richie laughs, running a hand through his hair. “God.”

“What?” asks Eddie, eyes already fixed back on the menu.

“Honestly? You.”

“Me what?”

Richie hesitates because it’s something he’s never talked to anyone about before. And for good reason—it’s fucking stupid. But right now, sitting in this Johnny Rockets…

“You know…” he starts, drumming his knuckles on the table, “I’m like, super bisexual. But I knew my soulmate was going to be a guy.”

Eddie puts the menu down. “Huh. Really? How?”

Richie shakes his head. “I dunno. It sounds really stupid but like… I don’t know if it was a dream I had or… you just. Like when I heard your voice and then you turned around in the theater…”

It’s so corny. He can’t say it. He’s playing with the straw dispenser on the table like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. How do you say you make me feel like, gooey inside and it’s fuckin’ nasty but also I don’t ever want it to end? Without sounding like a pussy, of course.

“Thanks? I guess?” says Eddie. “I mean, I still have no idea what you’re talking about but—”

“I’m really glad you’re my soulmate,” Richie blurts out. “Not just to have one, I mean. I’m glad it’s you. You’re awesome. Like...you’re totally knocking me off my fuckin’ feet here. And I hope you—”

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by Eddie leaning over the table and kissing him. Not like, full-on tongue kissing or anything. Just kind of a peck. But longer. Something in between. Soft, but definitely real.

And afterwards Eddie draws back, a little pinker than he was a second ago and then digs into his pocket, fishing out some quarters. He puts two in the little jukebox at their table, punches in a number and letter combo, and then sits back in his seat, shredding a straw wrapper between his fingers.

I thought love was only true in fairy tales

Meant for someone else, but not for me

Eddie looks like he’s trying as hard as he can not to grin, going even redder. Richie leans in and offers his hand. Eddie drops his straw wrapper.

Love was out to get me, that’s the way it seemed

Disappointment haunted all my dreams

But then I saw her face—

“You know,” Richie says, looking Eddie in the eye, “I like the Smash Mouth version better.”

Now I’m a believer

Eddie laughs and takes his outstretched hand. “I think I can live with that.”

#Stephen King's IT #It (2017)#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #so says sam

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averagemarvelbitch · 6 years ago

Text

The (Wedding) Cake Is A Lie / PART TWO

Summary: Steve and Bucky get drunk and invite Tony Stark to their fake wedding, thanks to something they saw on the internet. Best case scenario, Tony’s PA sends a gift without even wondering who the hell they are. Worst case scenario, the PA doesn’t send shit. However, they didn’t actually believe for a second that billionaire Tony Stark would call them up to RSVP to the freaking party!

Well, time to plan a wedding, I guess!

Stony / Mentions of Bucky/Natasha / Fluff / No Angst / AU - No Powers

Based on this / Read it on AO3 / Part One Here

Buy me a coffee, I could use the caffeine to stay up writing! (;

---

Natasha, as it turned out, was much less angry about the whole thing than they expected. She remained silent while Steve and Bucky told her everything that had happened during brunch and didn’t say a word, not even when they finished talking. Needless to say, they both just sat there, terrified, thinking of all the ways Natasha could kill them. After a while, however, she merely nodded.

“Okay. Let’s have a wedding, then”.

“Wait, what? You’re okay with that? Just like that?”

“I’m very much not okay with my boyfriend fake marrying his best friend, but I understand that telling the truth now would make you two look like drunk assholes so I’m going to accept this turn of events and try very hard not to strange both of you on the foreseeable future”.

“That’s… That’s actually very reasonable. You know, for you”, Steve commented.

“So, we’re planning a wedding”.

“Yes, we are. Now, we need someone to officiate the wedding. Preferably someone who’s not ordained because we don’t actually want to get married”.

“Call Sam. He’ll do it”, Natasha replied, looking at her own cell phone, “We also need flowers and a caterer”.

“Actually, Tony took care of that too. He hired this awesome chef to make all the food and the cake and the sweets”.

Both Natasha and Bucky looked up. “Oh, it’s Tony now, is it?” Natasha said with a smirk.

“Well”, Steve replied, defensively, “that’s his name, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is, Stevie. I’m starting to think you have a crush on Mr. Stark”.

Steve’s face went red and he opened his mouth, probably to deny everything, but thought better of it and just groaned, covering his face.

“I knew it! That’s why you wanted to go to brunch so badly! You like him!”

“Yeah, okay, I like him. Happy now?”

“Stevie, you monumental bag of potatoes, why the hell didn’t you say something? You could’ve just told him it was a joke and asked him out”.

“Well, we’re gonna see him again for the rehearsal dinner, so maybe I’ll do it then”, Steve replied, defensively.

Bucky and Natasha exchanged an amused look.

“Wow. It’s like his brain just vacated the premises”, Bucky said, shaking his head, “Steve, are you seriously thinking of asking Tony Stark out on your WEDDING REHEARSAL, you muppet?”

Steve seemed to finally realize his mistake. He moaned, covering his face, and fell to the side, pressing his face on the couch.

“What am I going to do?” he asked, voice muffled but the couch cushions.

“Well, we could pretend that the pressure of the wedding became too much and fight in front of him and then break up”.

“That is a horrible plan”, Natasha said, deadpanned, “You should do it”.

---

Steve knew he was being weird. A part of his brain, the part that hadn’t completely shut down after hearing the price of a cupcake ― it costed more than his rent, for God’s sake! ―, was screaming at him that he was being weird. Take a breath, Stevie, the voice would say inside his head, sounding an awful lot like Sam, you look like a gaping fish, dumbass.

“I think Steve didn’t like this one”, he heard Tony say in a playful tone.

They were at a fancy bakery in Manhattan, surrounded by couples who were, much like them, deciding on flavors and designs for their wedding cakes. Steve was looking down at his own table, staring at the cupcakes and pieces of cake neatly aligned in front of him, the fancy glass of sparkling water on his right and the three tiny cups filled with different toppings for him to sample. The whole experience was surreal. He didn’t know how to act. Bucky, however, was not having such a problem.

“Yeah, he hates lemon”, he replied, already taking another bite of said lemon cake, moaning as he chewed, “this is absolutely delicious”.

“My favorite so far is the strawberry one, to be honest”.

“Yeah, that one was to die for. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a cake this good in my entire life. Stevie, which one is your favorite?”

Steve finally looked up at Bucky, and then turned to look at Tony, blinking several times before answering.

“Ah, the strawberry one, yeah. And the coconut one”.

Tony moaned softly, an indecent sound that should definitely be illegal in Steve’s humble opinion. “Yeah, the coconut one was just perfect”.

Suddenly, Bucky dropped his fork on his plate, making a very loud sound, “Sure, you want the coconut one. God, Steve, could you be more of a dick?”

“I… What?”

“You KNOW I can’t have coconut. You KNOW I’m allergic, God, you’re so insensitive! So what, I’m not gonna have cake at my own wedding because YOU just needed to have the coconut cake, is that right?”

Steve blinked, utterly confused at Bucky’s behavior. He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again when he noticed everyone was looking at them.

“Uh, I actually need to use the restroom, so… I’ll be right back”, Tony excused himself, throwing a very apologetic look at Steve.

When Steve was sure Tony was out of earshot, he turned to his best friend, angry.

“What the hell was that?”

“Dude, I’m following the plan, remember?” Bucky replied, rolling his eyes, “We need to make this breakup look real, dumbass”.

“Wait, we’re breaking up now?”

“No, not now. But we need to start the fighting, otherwise Tony won’t believe it when I actually dump your ass”.

Steve shook his head. “Excuse me, why are YOU dumping MY ass?”

“Stevie, come on”, his best friend replied, licking the frosting off his fork, “You’d have to be crazy to dump a hot piece of ass like me. It just wouldn’t be believable”.

“Does it ever get to heavy to carry?”

“What?”

“All the shit inside your big ass head”.

Bucky was ready to retort when Tony finally came back, sitting down.

“So, I was thinking… Since Steve liked to coconut one so much and you liked the strawberry one better, we should have two cakes! So there’s no need to fight anymore, I already ordered them both!”

“Tony, that’s… That’s too much”.

“Nonsense! Anything I can do to make this easier on you two! I know how hard planning a wedding can be for the couple, I remember when Pepper and Happy got married, it was a nightmare, so you can rest assured I’ll do everything in my power to make this whole thing as smooth as possible for you two!”

Bucky and Steve looked at each other, grimacing and then back at Tony, forcing a smile.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Tony, we really appreciate it!”

“No problem at all. Now, a toast to the soon to be husbands!” Tony replied, smiling and raising his glass.

Steve and Bucky did the same, trying very hard not to cry out of desperation.

---

The same thing happened over and over again. Every time Steve and Bucky started fighting over something to do with the wedding, Tony would intervene and bring a solution. They fought about literally everything: the color of the napkins, the food they would serve, the table decorations, the music, anything they could think about, really, was a reason to start screaming at each other. In one of those times, Bucky had even stormed out, crying and screaming it’s over, this is over while Tony desperately tried to calm him down. It was awful and it was definitely not working.

“I don’t get it, why is he so invested in this? I mean, he doesn’t even knows us!” Bucky whispered his complaint to Steve while they both greeted the guests for the rehearsal dinner.

“I know, I don’t get it either. Maybe we should just come clean”, Steve replied, shaking the hand of a person he was pretty sure he had never seen before in his life, “who are all these people anyway?”

“I told Clint and Sam to invite some people, to pretend to be our friends and family”.

“You did WHAT?”

“Dude, what was I suppose to do? It would be weird if we had like five friends over for the wedding and no family!”

Steve didn’t even bother to reply and just focused on greeting a bunch of people he had never seen before in his life.

The dinner part passed without any problems and they actually had a lot of fun. They talked and drank good champagne with Clint, Sam and Nat while Wanda danced with some guy Steve could’ve sworn said his name was Vision and Pietro flirted with a girl who was clearly enamored with him. It was only after the best men toasts ― Sam and Clint had told every dirty little secret they knew about the fake couple ― that Steve finally found time to talk to Tony.

He found the billionaire standing outside, looking at the beautiful gardens ahead.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? I’m glad you decided to move the wedding here”, Tony said when he noticed Steve approaching.

To be fair, they hadn’t decided anything. Bucky had just thrown a tantrum saying the beautiful, very expensive hotel they had rented was not ideal and they should just call off the wedding and wait for the beautiful space at the hotel upstate to be available. There was an eight months waiting list, but hey, it was worth the wait. It took Tony less than three minutes on the phone to get it for them at the exact date Bucky wanted. So yeah, that plan had backfired.

“It really is”, Steve agreed, standing right next to Tony, “you’ve been doing a lot for us, Tony. You really didn’t have to”.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy I’m able to make this dream of yours come true!”

“Yeah, it’s definitely…” a complete nightmare I would very much like to wake up from, “a dream”.

“Something wrong?” Tony asked, worried.

“Just… Not sure this is the right thing to do”.

“Well, you love Bucky, don’t you?”

“I… Yeah, but… I don’t think it’s the kind of love for marriage”, Steve tried, grimacing at his own words.

“Wow. Well, you need to really think about this, Steve. You don’t want to make a mistake and have to live with it for the rest of your life”.

“Yeah. Yeah. I just don’t think we could make each other happy”, he insisted.

“Oh, I don’t know… You’re amazing, Steve. Anyone would be lucky to have such an incredible, kind, handsome man like you. And I know we haven’t known each other for long, but…” this time, Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and squeezed it, looking anywhere but into his baby blue eyes, “… you deserve someone who respects and loves you. And if you think that isn’t Bucky, then you should talk to him. I’m sure everyone would understand”.

“Would you? I mean, you’re paying for all this and it would all go to waste”.

“Nah, don’t worry about that. It’s not like you lied to me all this time, you just figured out that maybe you and Bucky are not ready to marry, that’s totally understandable”.

It’s not like you lied to me all this time, the words circled through Steve’s head, oh God, I can’t tell him.

“Hey, talk to Bucky, okay? Let me know if I need to make some calls”, Tony said, giving Steve a hug, “everything is going to be fine”, he whispered, before leaving.

Oh my God, what are we going to do?

---

“Okay, we need to get married”.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Tony had paid for Nat, Bucky, Sam, Clint and Steve to stay at the hotel that night, so they wouldn’t have to go back home only to return some hours later for the actual wedding. They were all in Steve’s room, drinking and chatting, when the blonde finally walked in, looking more terrified than he ever had before.

“We need to get married. Coulson can say he’s ordained and he can marry us and it will be all fake so it’s no problem and we pretend were married for a few months and then break up”.

Everybody just stared at him.

“Why the ever loving fuck would we do that?!” Bucky asked, “Pal, we already have a plan, a perfectly good plan, a plan that doesn’t involve me marrying your sorry ass!”

“Fake marrying”, Steve corrected.

“I don’t fucking care, Stevie, I’m not marrying you. Not sober, anyway”, he added, taking another long sip from his bottle.

“Why can’t you just have a huge fight tomorrow morning and be done with it?”

“Because Tony spent a lot of money on this, okay? And if we break up tomorrow before the wedding he’s might get suspicious. Or worse, he might think I’m still hang up on you and he won’t want anything to do with me”.

“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a crazy person right now”.

“No, he’s right”, Nat said, nodding, “You have to do it”.

“WHAT? What side are you own?”

“Imagine if Stark gets suspicious. Imagine if he learns we’ve all been lying to him. He could go to the cops, say we were robbing him”.

“We’re not robbing him! He offered to pay for all this!” Bucky complained, looking terrified.

“Yeah, who you think the cops are gonna believe? The dumbass who looks like a homeless person or the guy who owns the biggest technology company in the world?” Clint supplied, calmly.

Bucky just stared at his friends for a moment before finishing his bottle.

“Call Coulson, we’re getting married”.

---

Everything so far was going according to plan. The people Sam and Clint had invited to pretend they were Steve’s and Bucky’s friends and family had all arrived and were sitting down in their respective seats, all quietly waiting for the ceremony. Both Steve and Bucky were already dressed and waiting to walk down the aisle. Everything was going fine. And that’s, of course, when everything went wrong.

Clint appeared all of a sudden, huffing like he had just ran a marathon.

“Coulson’s sick. He can’t make it”.

“WHAT?”

“Apparently, he’s throwing up like crazy, he can’t make it”

“Okay, we need a backup plan”, Steve said, trying to calm himself down.

“Yeah, there’s only one problem”.

“What?”

“Tony knows and brought a minister”.

“WHAT?”

As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, Tony showed up, a big smile on his face.

“Hey. There was a slight issue with the program, but don’t worry, everything is fixed. My friend Rhodey is ordained and he’s gonna marry you guys. So, chop chop, it’s time, lovebirds”.

Not knowing what else to do, Steve and Bucky just nodded and turned as the doors opened. The music started playing softly on the background as they walked down the aisle. Sam and Nat took the front, with Clint and Wanda right behind them. Steve was sure the whole scene looked beautiful for anyone watching, but he, well, he just felt like throwing up.

“We could always get a divorce, right?” Bucky asked right before they stopped in front of a very well dressed man, probably Rhodey. Rhodey, who was ordained. Rhodey, who was going to marry them. Bind them forever in the eyes of… Well, everyone.

“Dear beloved…”

“STOP!” someone screamed. It took Steve a moment to notice that the shout came from him.

Everybody was staring in silence. The man, Rhodey, was looking at him, an eyebrow raised, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Steve? What’s wrong?” Tony asked from the front row, getting up.

“I can’t do this. Okay, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tony, but we were lying”.

“You… What?”

“Look, Buck and I, were friends. We’ve been friends ever since we were kids and sometimes we get drunk and we do stupid stuff and we got drunk and thought it would be funny to send you an invitation to our fake wedding so maybe you would send us like a gift or something and then you called and you wanted to pay for the whole thing and I kinda wanted to spend time with you so we didn’t tell you anything and then it just got bigger and bigger until we couldn’t tell you because you were spending a shitload of money on this and we felt so bad but I can’t marry Bucky because I’m pretty sure Natasha would cut my balls off and I kinda really like you and I wanted to ask you out and I wouldn’t be able to if I married Bucky and I’m just SO SORRY”.

Tony just blinked, staring at Steve.

“Well, at least he’s just as insane as you, Tones”, Rhodey said, rolling his eyes.

“I… What?”

Tony smiled. And then he laughed, shaking his head.

“Steve, I know you and Bucky were never together. I know Bucky and Natasha are the ones dating. And I knew you were lying”.

“Since when?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding all funny and high.

“Since you sent me the invitation”.

“But… How?”

“Well,” Tony replied, still smiling, “remember three months ago? You were at the Maria Stark Gallery showing your work?” When Steve nodded, dumbfounded, he continued, “I saw you. I couldn’t talk to you at the time, too busy, and then I had to leave because I had an emergency at SI and I didn’t have a chance to talk to you. I knew your name and where you lived, but I couldn’t just go after you like some sort of stalker, so I decided to wait until the next time you were at the gallery. Imagine my surprise when I received an invitation to your wedding in my mail a month later”.

“But… How did you know about Bucky and Nat?”

“Natasha worked for Pepper for a little while. I got her phone and called. She thought my plan to pretend to believe you guys was hilarious and helped me out”.

“YOU WHAT?” Bucky screamed, turning to his girlfriend, who was smiling cheekily.

“Payback for all those times you two idiots got drunk and almost gave me a heart attack. Also, everybody else was in it too”, she said, gesturing to Clint, Sam and Wanda.

“You’re kidding”.

“Nope, it was hilarious”.

“So, you’re not mad at us?” Steve asked Tony, looking lost.

“No, I’m not mad. In fact”, he said, turning to the people who were sitting down behind them, “great job, everyone, time to party”.

Everyone cheered and got up, waking towards the ballroom.

“Well, this was… Not fun at all and I need a drink. Or four”, Bucky said, taking of his tie and grabbing his girlfriend’s hand, “Anyone up for some champagne? I feel like celebrating the fact that I didn’t in fact marry down”.

Steve felt very tempted to slap the back of Bucky’s head, but refrained, instead watching as everyone else left the room, leaving only Tony and him behind.

“So”.

“So”

“Would it be weird to ask you out on my failed fake wedding day?”

“A little bit, yeah. But I happen to like weird”, Tony replied, taking Steve’s hand and pulling him towards the door, “So, were you actually going to marry him? Because, to be honest, you could totally do so much better”, he joked when the blonde pulled him closer, arm on his shoulders, hugging him.

“Damn right I could”, Steve agreed with a serious expression that quickly turned into a smile.

---

Later that night, Bucky and Steve were sitting at a table, watching Tony and Nat laughing in the middle of dance floor.

“So… This definitely tops all the other times we got stupid drunk, right?”

“Definitely”, Steve said, taking a sip of his glass and looking at Bucky, “At least this time nobody woke up in the middle of a corn field with no pants on”.

“Well”, Bucky replied, drinking some more, “the night is still young”.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #ironshield #stony fic #stevetony fic #superhusbands fic #steve rogers #tony stark

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writeforsoreeyes · 6 years ago

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BL LookBack - Gerard & Jacques

Welcome to BL LookBack, where I’m rereading some of the oldest BL series still on my shelves to see how well they hold up for me today!

[image description: the covers of Gerard & Jacques volumes 1 and 2. On the first, an older man with an eyepatch and facial scar embraces a disgruntled teenage boy from behind. On the second, the two characters, both older, stare at each other tenderly.]

story & art by Fumi Yoshinaga originally serialized 2000 - 2001 (Biblos) English edition: 2006 (Tokyopop)

CW: rape, age gap

Fumi Yoshinaga is one of my favorite mangaka. Her diverse body of work includes award-winning alternate history (Ooku: The Inner Chambers), self-deprecating autobio comics (Not Love But Delicious Foods), and bittersweet school life drama (Flower of Life). But what she’s perhaps best known for are her many BL titles.

As a big fan, I’ve read pretty much all her manga and I usually recommend her titles quite enthusiastically. Gerard & Jacques, however, is one Yoshinaga manga that I generally do not recommend. My content warnings on this post probably give you a good idea of why, but let’s dive into it.

Set roundabouts the French Revolution, Gerard & Jacques follows the relationship of two men over the course of nine years. Jacques is the younger of the pair at just 16 when the story begins. He hails from an aristocratic family, but experiences a severe reversal of fortune: his family has sunken deep into debt and his father sold Jacques to a brothel in attempt to save the family’s wealth.

Gerard, meanwhile, is a commoner-- albeit a very wealthy one. He frequents brothels and is a favorite patron of many of the workers since he is younger and more attentive than most of the clientele. Since it’s Jacques’ first night on the job, the brothel owner decides that Gerard will be the best way to ease him into it.

Jacques, however, is understandably in shock about his new reality. He reveals to Gerard that he is an aristocrat and Gerard in turn reveals that he hates aristocrats, stating that they do nothing to earn their wealth. Furthermore, Jacques’ defense of his family’s actions angers Gerard. He makes Jacques face the facts of his situation and Jacques finally tells Gerard to do whatever he wants.

[image description: Gerard hold Jacques by the chin and tells him, “Think about it! What are you now? Do you have any means to pay off your debt other than selling your own body?” He lets Jacques go and continues, “And even in this state, a first-rate prostitute like you is blessed with a feather pillows, three meals a day and silk bed clothes. Younger children than you sell their bodies in places no better than a public toilet!”]’

Although consent is given on paper, it’s hard to call what occurs in chapter 1 anything besides rape.

Usually, this is where I’d drop a BL. However, the saving grace of Gerard & Jacques is that chapter 1 doesn’t end there. Instead, it ends with Gerard taking pity on Jacques. He buys out Jacques’ contract and challenges him to find a way to earn a living as a commoner, stating “If I see you back here [at the brothel] when I next return, I’ll scorn you from the bottom of my heart.”

Not long after, Jacques turns up at Gerard’s mansion looking for work, not realizing who lives there. Although he’s taken aback upon seeing Gerard, Jacques is still eager to prove himself. Gerard openly doubts that Jacques will be useful, but hires him regardless.

Here is the crux of Gerard & Jacques: the story’s setup is deeply problematic. But where a less talented mangaka would slip into weak character development and tired tropes in favor of exploiting the scenario’s raciness, Yoshinaga works hard to prove there is a story worth reading here. As for how successful she ultimately is… your mileage may vary.

Let’s talk about what’s done well first.

Yoshinaga excels at writing characters with complex emotions and motivations. Jacques is naive and repressed when it comes to sexual matters. However, he is also an intelligent, hard-working, and prideful person who isn’t afraid to tackle tasks that other people think are below him. After being turned out by his family, what he wants most is to prove his worth.

[image description: a maid praises Jacques for working hard and finding tasks to do without being told, ending with “That’s the sign of a good servant.” Jacques is pleased.]

Jacques, for obvious reasons, got a poor first impression of Gerard, so he’s surprised to learn that Gerard treats his servants very kindly and is well-liked by therm. As a self-made man, Gerard has enough reason to dislike pampered, frivolous aristocrats. (Note: Gerard made his fortune by penning erotica. There’s certainly some meta going on here, as that is also how Yoshinaga built her career.)

However, it doesn’t take long for Yoshinaga to divulge Gerard’s past and reveal the real reason behind his ire. I won’t go into the details because it’s all obviously spoilers. But, in short, Gerard was hurt badly by someone he loved and has never forgiven them-- nor has he forgiven himself for being blinded by his love.

[image description: Jacques asks Gerard, “Is this love?” Gerard is surprised by the question, then he looks down and responds, “How should I know?”]

As someone who primarily reads to experience other people’s emotions, I appreciate the care that Yoshinaga takes in crafting believable personalities and depicting the characters’ emotions clearly on the page. She isn’t afraid to use several panels to simply show a small shift in a character’s expression. In relatively few chapters, she covers a lot of emotional ground while showing how the two main characters’ feelings for each other change.

[image description: Jacques lays on Gerard’s chest and pets his hair, saying “I like you...” Unseen by Jacques, Gerard moves as if to put his arm around Jacques and return his embrace, but pulls away.]

Yoshinaga also manages to pack an awful lot of plot into just two volumes without the story feeling too rushed. Nearly a decade goes by! There’s the events that shift Gerard and Jacques relationship, story lines that reveal backstory, and, of course, plots driven by Revolutionary France politics. There’s so much political and legal talk at some parts, in fact, that you might momentarily forget you’re reading a BL. While some readers may be uninterested in such plots, I personally enjoy romance stories that have something else going on within them besides romance.

Finally, I greatly appreciate that Yoshinaga steered clear of the Bury Your Gays trope. It’s a spoiler to even say so, but I think it’s important to know, especially for queer readers: neither Gerard nor Jacques die. I won’t say anything more about the ending than that.

[image description: Gerard and Jacques are arguing whether Jacques should flee the country alone or if Gerard should come with. Jacques stands his ground, saying “I won’t go unless you do!”]

Now let’s talk about the bad stuff.

The number one issue I take with Gerard & Jacques is its double standard surrounding sexual consent. In essence, the reader is meant to presume that since Jacques ultimately enjoys the sexual pleasure he receives from Gerard, that means that his consent is good and golden-- and thus it’s not rape. By contrast, when another character forces sexual attention on people, it’s plainly depicted as sexual assault and rape. Obviously, that’s not how it works in real life.

There’s also a weird, pseudo-incestuous vibe. Gerard is quite a lot older than Jacques (roughly twice his age when they first meet, I think). Furthermore, Jacques’ background and kind-heartedness remind Gerard of a girl who he considered his daughter. Gerard even tells Jacques when he is older, “I loved you like my own child, but that’s not all now. I love you like my lover.” While no actual incest occurs, I’m sure this alone will turn off plenty of readers.

[image description: Gerard comments to the maid that Jacques looked cute dressed up in aristocratic attire. She remarks, “What a fond father you are.” He thinks on this, then repeats, “A fond father. I see.”]

Finally, there’s some unfortunate Man in a Dress style transphobia. Gerard disguises himself as a woman briefly for plot reasons and, in short, some characters note that the look doesn’t suit him. The way it’s executed is much gentler than most other Man in a Dress joking I’ve seen, but it’s still bothersome.

Overall, Gerard & Jacques isn’t bad. In fact, I’d say that Yoshinaga pulls off the story rather well within the confines of the problematic scenario. However, I think the story would’ve been far better without the rape between the two leads.

[image description: Jacques frowns at a manuscript and says, “No matter how many times I read this, it’s still just a crappy, erotic trash novel.” Gerard replies, “It sells. What’s the problem?”]

If this review has made you curious despite the warnings, I do think it’s a worthwhile read so long as you are prepared for objectionable content. But for people put off by the various warnings, I’d encourage you to check out something else by Fumi Yoshinaga. My two personal favorite series from her are Antique Bakery (workplace slow burn drama) and What Did You Eat Yesterday? (half cookbook, half slice of life about a middle aged gay couple.) Neither of these are actually BL in the proper sense, but both prominently feature gay main characters.

*final verdict: I was put off by its premise when I first read it and my feelings on it haven’t much changed. It’s well-done, but the creator has other works I’d recommend more.*

#gerard & jacques #fumi yoshinaga #bl lookback

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imagines-so-what-if · 7 years ago

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I is for Impressing You

Headcanon and scenarios for Sherlock, Mycroft, and Moriarty

The prompt: How he tries to impress you.

Genre: Fwuff.

Rating: K+

Reader type: Quiet, patient, shy

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

Headcanons for Sherlock trying to impress you.

Bby boy is all about trying to impress you with his deductions. It’s his pride and joy, after all!

He’ll absolutely put down others in front of you (especially Anderson).

“Were you born without a brain or did you lose it when s/he entered the room?”

“How that tiny little brain of yours is developed enough for you to speak is a scientific miracle.”

Will call everyone else but you an idiot.

Might unintentionally insult you by deducing you.

Loves explaining things to you. Even if you know the answer he’ll still enjoy telling it to you.

Embodiment of sass and sarcasm.

Will attempt to succeed in whatever interests you (for example if you’re big into cooking he’ll try to make an elaborate dish for you).

He’ll drag you along on his cases so you have more chances to be impressed by him.

Sherlock scenario

You hovered near the back of the crime scene beside John. You were technically a civilian so you really shouldn’t be there, but Sherlock had effectively dragged you along with him and John. Still, you didn’t want to accidentally contaminate evidence or cause an issue with the already irritated officers, so you tried to stay out of the way to the best of your ability.

Sherlock was kneeling beside the body, his eyes rapidly moving about as he examined it.

Without looking up he snapped, “Shut up, Anderson.”

The man who had walked into the crime scene just then halted. He was beside you so you could clearly see the flush of anger on his cheeks. “I haven’t even said anything!”

“I can hear your lecherous thoughts about Y/N. Remove yourself before you waste any more of the air here.”

At the word lecherous you blushed bright red in embarrassment. The man named Anderson stammered out, “I was not!”

You shuffled a couple steps away from him and he threw you a look of disbelief.

“Leave,” Greg sighed. “You’ll only rile him up.”

The man looked thoroughly offended and gave Greg a scathing look of disapproval, but he did turn around leave.

Greg turned to look at Sherlock and asked, “Well?”

“Solved it,” Sherlock said brusquely, abruptly standing back up. “Ridiculously easy, I’m sure you could figure it out on your own within a month or so.”

“So what happened?” You asked hesitantly.

Sherlock looked at you, fixing you with his sharp blue eyes. He took a deep breath and then launched into a huge monologue explaining how the victim was obviously killed by her sister. He listed such minor and seemingly unimportant clues but which all added up to the big revelation. You couldn’t help but be impressed by his deduction and you exclaimed at the end, “That’s amazing! You’re so brilliant, Sherlock.”

His lips twitched and he cocked his head. “Well, yes.”

“If this was so easy why did it catch your attention?” John asked, struggling not to grin at Sherlock.

Sherlock glared seethingly at him. “How could I have known it would be so alarmingly easy before coming here?”

“Well I mean you first rejected coming here and then all of a sudden Y/N shows up and suddenly it’s a fascinating case—”

“Your memory is failing you, Watson,” Sherlock snapped. “Case is solved, end of story.” Then he looked back over at you, blue eyes burning into your own. “You haven’t eaten yet, but you’re hungry. Let’s go.”

“O-Okay,” you managed to get out before Sherlock grabbed your hand and dragged you away again.

You could hear John and Greg’s laughter behind you.

Headcanons for Mycroft trying to impress you

Mycroft is subtle with how he impresses you. He’s not one for grand gestures or drama.

He already knows he’s an impressive man, and he’s certain you already know it, too.

That being the case there are times where he can’t resist showing off. For example he might play a strategy game against his brother or someone else you know of high intelligence (chess for example) and you “coincidentally” walk in on him winning.

He’ll prepare elaborate meals for you and not tell you he made them until after you’ve already praised them.

He’ll subtly steer conversations so he can slip in some of his impressive feats.

He will without a doubt casually put down anyone he views as competition when you’re in earshot.

Backhanded compliments are his bread and butter for this.

“Oh, yes the report looks extremely put together considering it was done by a primary school child.”

“A truly fascinating story. You’ve almost been upgraded from imbecile to a vaguely interesting imbecile.”

“What a charming mind you have! Thinking for an instant s/he would take any sort of interesting in you. My, I wish I could experience such wild delusions like you.”

Mycroft scenario

You were returning home after a long day of errands, expecting to find it empty. To your delight, however, you saw the lights were on in Mycroft’s study. As soon as you entered your home you could smell something absolutely delicious dominate most of the house.

You wanted to go to the kitchen to see what new lovely creation Mycroft made, but you were more excited to see your husband.

With a skip in your heart you moved quickly through the halls, slowing down as you heard Mycroft’s voice along with someone else’s. It sounded like his brother, but that would have been odd. Sherlock didn’t typically visit Mycroft (if anything it was the other way around, or you playing messenger for them).

Still, stranger things have happened.

You walked in on the library, surprised to find that the lovely smell was also coming from it. You immediately spotted a decadent cake—your favorite kind!— and you felt your stomach sing praises at that.

“... Checkmate, brother mine.”

“Tt.”

Reluctantly, you looked away from the mouth-watering cake and over at Sherlock and Mycroft. The two were sitting opposite of one another at Mycroft’s gorgeous chess table. Sherlock was perched on the edge of the chair and looked, for all intents and purposes, like an angry kitten told it was time to take a bath. Mycroft on the other hand was perfectly at ease with a small bemused smile on his face.

Both men looked up at your entrance. Sherlock glaring and Mycroft’s eyes gleaming. “Welcome home, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you returned. “Sherlock, everything okay? You hardly come here.”

“A little wager, that’s all,” Mycroft smoothly answered on his brother’s behalf. “He lost, though, and now he has to pay up. The case file will be by the front door. Do you require assistance—?”

“I know where the front door is,” Sherlock snapped, standing up with grace and grabbing his coat off the back of the chair. He tilted his head towards you. “Good evening, Y/N.”

“Be safe going home,” you said, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as he brushed past you. Then you turned back towards Mycroft, gesturing towards the cake. “Whatever is the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Mycroft hummed, standing up from his chair and straightening out the nonexistent crinkles in his coat. “A new recipe. Care to try?”

“Mycroft I know it’ll be heavenly. You’re always such an amazing cook.”

“Of course, of course,” he demurred, “but can’t a man want to his impress you?”

You blushed, smiling shyly at him. “We’ve been married for five years, Mycroft...”

“Time won’t change my desire, my dear. I will always want to impress you.”

Headcanons for Moriarty trying to impress you

This guy is all about grand gestures.

He’ll buy you expensive things and fly you out to random and exotic places. He’ll arrange fireworks to cover the London sky; he’ll rent out an amusement park for a whole day (or more) for you; he’ll take you to ridiculously expensive places.

It’s easy to show off with money and it’s one of the few things he’s comfortable doing. Everyone has a price, right?

Still that won’t be enough. Sure you could be impressed with the wealth he’s accumulated but that doesn’t mean you’re impressed with him. He’ll show off his intellect at every chance he gets.

He’ll manipulate events and conversations to his benefit. He’ll want every interaction you have him with to leave you in awe.

He’ll base it off of your interests. Interested in writing? Coincidentally he’s published a few books. Like to cook? Oh, wow, guess who’s won a Michelin star. Big fan of whatever fandom? Guess who’s buying the franchise.

Everything he does and says will be over the top.

(If you’ve been with him long enough he’ll actually start to compete against himself over past actions to impress you.)

He will absolutely brag about his criminal achievements and particularly elaborate plots.

Moriarty scenario

It was still early on in your relationship with him. You’d been friends with Jim for a few years now, but your relationship was mostly through online messages. You hadn’t met him in person until a week ago when you moved to London.

It was actually rather odd. You were miraculously offered your dream job! And amazingly enough a crazy cheap (it was almost exactly as much as you could afford for a flat without having to live paycheck to paycheck) flat in a gorgeous neighborhood (frankly you didn’t believe the pricing given to you could really be it because it was so beautiful).

When you had moved into the new home (somehow a lot of your old stuff got destroyed by the movers on the way so they paid you ten times the price it was worth to replace so in addition you got brand new furniture that you sorely needed) you almost instantly got a message from Jim asking to meet in real life.

The meeting had been brief since you had to get ready for work—he met you at a cute little café near your new home—but absolutely delightful. The two of you instantly connected and you were enamored by his brilliant mind and charming wit.

You had only been able to meet up a few more times after that until tonight.

Tonight was first “proper” date with him.

Now you knew Jim was wealthy (he was upfront about that after the two of you became friends) but that didn’t matter to you. You liked Jim for his addicting personality and you loved talking with him.

Still, you were caught off guard by how crazy expensive the restaurant was that he had taken you. It was in the heart of London and everyone was elegantly dressed.

You felt oddly out of place there, but Jim was quick to put you at ease with his warm banter.

The two of you sat down at a small little table. It was lit by candlelight and the music and conversation swelled around you.

“What do you think?” he asked, leaning towards you across the table.

“I-It’s gorgeous. Certainly very busy though, isn’t it? They must be constantly booked,” you replied, looking around. Every table was filled, after all.

“Is it too loud for you? Too many people?”

It was a bit intimidating being surrounded by so many beautiful and obviously rich people, but you didn’t want to say that out loud. He was treating you, after all. It would be rude to speak ill of his choice.

“Oh, I wouldn’t—”

Moriarty smiled charmingly at you, a gleam in his eyes. Something about his gaze made your voice fall silent. With great care and grace he lifted up his wine glass and gently tapped his spoon against it. On the third chime everyone else in the restaurant fell silent.

Then in the next second they all got up and filed out. You watched them leave with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. Within the minute the restaurant was entirely silent save for the sound of the candles flickering.

Moriarty watched you with that same smile on his face. “Better, my dear?”

“U-Um—wow.”

He winked. “Oh don’t say that so soon. I’ll give you a real reason for that praise later tonight.”

#Sherlock x reader #Sherlock headcanons #Sherlock scenario #Sherlock reader insert #sherlock imagine #Mycroft x reader #Mycroft headcanons #Mycroft scenario #Mycroft reader insert #mycroft imagine #moriarty x reader #Moriarty headcanons #moriarty scenario #moriarty reader insert #moriarty imagine #x reader #reader insert

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artlessictoan · 6 years ago

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Lovely work for Kiba/Chouji! I'm a chouji hoe so if you could do something were it's basically a ouran highschool host club cliche and everyone is trying to win his heart and the poor boy is oblivious to it all (take your pick of a few chars to add would love to see sasuke tho!)

okok I haven’t watched ouran in yonks so I don’t remembermuch about it, but I am all kinds of intocho being Everybody’s Not So Secret Crush

---

“Hey, Chouji!”

The call stopped him in his tracks, halfway through lockinghis front door. Hand still hanging in the air, he twisted round to see the ballof yellow and orange bounding towards him. “Hey Naruto,” he said with a smile,as he finished turning the key and stepped back to properly greet his friend,“you sound happy today.”

“Super happy! Sakura handed my ass to me in trainingyesterday, gave me a concussion and everything!”

He blinked, frowned and then blinked again. “And that’s… agood thing?”

The blond chuckled, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “Well notthe getting injured bit, that hurt,but after she healed me she got really panicky – even though I’m fine! – andforbade me from training and missions for at least three days, doctors’ ordersso Kakashi-sensei can’t complain.” Suddenly an arm was draped across hisshoulders, pulling him into Naruto’s side. “Sooo, I figured that since I’ve gotthe day off anyway I should spend it having some fun, so whaddya say, wannahang out? All day, just you and me?”

His warm, friendly grin was as inviting as always and helooked so genuinely excited at the prospect, even waggling his eyebrows at him,which made what Chouji had to say next all the more difficult.

“Sorry Naruto, I’ve got stuff to take care of today-” blueeyes started to look far too watery for his liking, so he rushed to comfort him“-but we should totally do something soon! Maybe get lunch tomorrow?”

The grin was instantly back on his face. “Really?”

Chouji smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder as hedisentangled himself and started walking backwards down the street.“Definitely,” he called out as the distance between them grew wider, “we shouldinvite Ino and Shikamaru too! And your team, let’s get everyone together!”

Whatever Naruto’s reply was, it got lost to the breeze asChouji jogged into town to make up lost time. He was already looking forwardsto tomorrow, it was always nice to hang out with friends.

---

When he got there, the market crowds were at the perfectdensity; not so tightly packed that you couldn’t move without touching sevenother people, but not so empty as to feel vaguely creepy. He always lovedcoming here on days like these, just to take the time to casually browse thestores, maybe pick out things to tell his friends and family about the nexttime he saw them, but today he had a packed schedule, so he headed to the foodstalls with determined steps.

The shopkeeper called a greeting the second he steppedinside, as he always did for his regular customers, before ducking into thestore-room with the promise of returning with some produce he’d kept backespecially for him.

As he waited for the elderly man to return, Chouji glancedaround the shop, planning to pick up a few vegetables, when he noticed afamiliar head of dark hair.

“Hinata!” he said cheerfully, as he stepped up beside her,apparently catching her off guard with how high he jumped. “Sorry, didn’t meanto scare you, how are you doing?”

She quickly caught her breath, though it took her a fewmoments to stop staring at him with wide eyes. “O-oh, I’m fine, thank you,” shesaid, stumbling over her words until she dropped her head to focus on herfingers twisting along the handles of her shopping basket, “how are you?”

“I’m great thanks, you out doing a little shopping?” heasked, more to give her a gentle opening to a real conversation than out of anyactual doubt.

Her long, straight hair bobbed up and down with her slightnod, before she nervously glanced up at him from under her fringe. “A-a-a-” herlips pulled into a thin line at the word stubbornly sticking in her throat, buthe just smiled encouragingly and waited for her to collect herself; she hatedwhen people tried to guess what she wanted to say. “…You also?”

He grinned at her, turning to look through the displays,picking up onions and giving them a critical inspection “Yup, Ino and Shikamaruare coming over for dinner and I feel like making something I’ve never triedbefore, Karui sent me some Kumo recipes I’ve been itching to try out!”

She smiled softly at him, though didn’t make eye contact.“That sounds lovely.”

“If there’s any leftovers I’ll remember to bring you sometomorrow so you can try it out too,” he said, finally deciding which was themost delicious-looking vegetable. He handed it to his friend and took thesecond-best one for himself.

Neck snapping, she turned to him with wide eyes and wavinghands. “O-o-oh, n-no, that’s n-ot, n-n-n-”

“It’s no problem, I’m happy to share!” The creak of a dooropening drew his attention back to the grocer trundling back in with a cratepacked full of bright greens and reds and yellows, he gave the man a thumbs-upbefore turning back to Hinata, ready to quickly say their goodbyes when henoticed something off. Leaning down to get a better look at her face, hefrowned. “You’re looking a little red, are you feeling ok?”

“I-I-I-”

He pressed a hand to her burning forehead. “It’s pretty hottoday, maybe you should sit down for a while-”

“I will be fine thank you!” Having practically screamed inhis face, she stiffly turned around, flew to the checkout counter, dropped ahandful of coins and ran out of the store before Chouji could even think tostop her.

Walking over to the shopkeeper, he gave him a sheepish grin.“Sorry, I think the weather must be getting to her.”

The man shook his head, idly poking at the coins on thecounter. “Well, next time you see her tell her she’s got over five-hundred ryōin change waiting for her.”

---

Finished with the markets and all his shopping carefullypacked away in a sealing scroll, his next destination was the academy.

He’d only recently taken up teaching and he was still alittle overwhelmed by it at times, but he had to admit that he loved hisoccasional guest lessons, they were a good way to get in some practice dealingwith children before he got a genin team of his own one day; the most importantlesson he’d learned thus far being neverlet sticky-fingered kids chewing bubble gum play with his hair, no matter howbig and watery they could make their eyes go.

His head felt so naked with it cut short.

“Ah, Akimichi-sensei,” the receptionist said as he steppedthrough the academy doors, “your lesson starts in fifteen minutes, your TA isalready in classroom five-B waiting for you.”

He frowned, he was getting a teaching assistant? Since when?Walking the familiar halls, feet knowing the exact path to take even withouthis mind’s input. By the time he gingerly peaked through the door, he’d cookedup at least seven awful scenarios in his head, but they all flew out the windowonce he saw who it was in there.

“Neji?”

The other man started and turned to face him, giving one ofhis slight smiles when he saw him. “Hello Chouji, I was beginning to wonder ifyou were coming.”

“I try not to get here too early,” he said, walking fullyinto the room and marching over to the huge blackboard covering one wall, “lesstime to get anxious, y’know? What are you doing here anyway, when thereceptionist said there would be a TA, I kinda figured it would be someone toevaluate me or something…” He trailed off at a sudden horrible thought. “That’snot why you’re here, is it?”

Neji shook his head, observing closely as he started writingthe lesson-plan up on the board. “Nothing like that, it was just… suggested tome that I should take up teaching. To improve my people skills.”

He frowned, pausing his scribbling long enough to look overhis shoulder. “Suggested?”

“Tenten’s idea-” the man grimaced “-the busybody found outthat you were giving classes and thought it would be a good opportunity for me.”

Finishing off his sentence, Chouji nodded and grinned wideas he replied, “That’s awesome! It’s definitely a learning experience, but Ibet you’ll be great at it once you’ve spent some time with the kids, though I reallydon’t see how you’re bad at talking to people, you’re always so nice when wemeet up.”

“…I need to… find… someone, please excuse me.” Neji was outof the door before he’d even finished his sentence.

---

His class went well, even though his new assistant had spentmost of it standing in the furthest corner of the room staring at the walls.

Chouji never would’ve guessed the guy got stage-fright sobad.

The next port of call was the Hokage tower, where he wasexpected to assist with some new international treaties being worked out.Politics wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, but he’d made many friendsduring the war, from all over the five nations; at some point he’d become avaluable advisor to the Hokage, as he could offer insight into the way the commonfolk of other nations thought and how they might be affected by big policy changes.

He hadn’t been expecting to bump into the Kazekage and hissiblings on their way out.

Temari was the first to see him, waving and jogging over. “Heythere stranger, it’s been too long!” she said, grinning and giving him a tighthug.

“It has,” he agreed, returning the embrace before pullingback to smile at the two men wandering over, “what’re you guys doing here? Ihadn’t heard of any big diplomatic summits coming up.”

The younger brother nodded, giving him that same intensestare he always gave his closest friends – it was a little weird, but once he’dbeen assured that it was just him trying to be friendly in his own awkward wayhe’d found the attention mush easier to bear. “There aren’t, this is aninformal visit, to catch up with friends. Like you.”

He smiled, hiding a tiny blush beneath his hand. “Aww, that’snice of you to say, you must have a lot of people you want to see.”

Gaara’s stare didn’t waver in the slightest. “I suppose.”

A heavy hand clapped down onto his shoulder, Temari shookhim lightly. “Who’s got time for those other losers? You’re the best bit ofKonoha, everyone knows that!”

Several steps behind his siblings, Kankuro slapped a hand tohis face.

He laughed, nudging the tall blonde back. “You’re too kind.”

“No, she is correct, any time spent with you is a true pleasure,”Gaara said, face blank but voice earnest and as happy-sounding as he ever got.

Temari glared at him, her grip on Chouji’s shouldertightening slightly. “Yes, which is why I said it. First.”

In the background, Kankuro groaned.

The Kazekage sniffed, drawing himself up as high as he could– which wasn’t much, but he was trying his best. “Why don’t you go and trackdown Shikamaru, oneesan? I’m sure he’dlove to see you again.”

Nails were digging through his shirt. “Why don’t you go andfind Naruto, otouto?”

Kankuro had an expression of pure despair. “Guys, please,just stop.”

“Because Chouji is here now and I would like to spend timewith him.” Gaara’s glare was deadly enough to make him start to worry, just a little.

“And you think I don’t?”

“I swear to-”

“No,” the redhead said, cutting off his brother and steppingcloser to glare up at his big sister, “I think that you monopolise his timeevery time we come here, oneesan and would like the opportunity to spend timewith my friends too.”

He risked a nervous cough, but no one seemed to notice. Was shestarting to break skin with her tight grip?

Temari scoffed, finally retracting her arm to cross themover her chest, leaning down to stare her little brother dead in the eye. “Areyou gonna stop me?”

Chouji coughed again, holding up a hand and weakly saying, “Excuseme,” but it made little-to-no impact.

“If you two don’t stop I’m disowning the pair of you.”Kankuro’s input went unnoticed too.

“No, because I am a good brother, who wouldn’t jeopardise mysiblings’ relationships for personal gain.”

The cold fury in Temari’s grin sent a chill down his spine. “Youlittle-”

“Oookay!” Chouji shouted, quickly sidestepping the argumentand pointing intently at the tower. “I’ve got a meeting to get to, it was, uh… funseeing you guys again!”

Kankuro’s loud cackle followed him, ever after the doorsslammed shut behind him.

He snickered to himself as he rushed to the meeting he wasprobably now late for; weird as they were, he was fond of the three and their intense,but ultimately affectionate bickering. It must be nice to have siblings.

---

It had been a long day for Chouji and it would be longer stillby the time he’d gotten home and prepared dinner for his teammates.

He decided to take a detour through the nearby park anyway,he’d always liked seeing the flowers.

They looked especially beautiful the evening, turned shadesof gold and red under the setting sun, a lone bee still roaming even with nightrapidly falling. And it was pleasantly quiet, most people home with theirfamilies by now – he felt like he had the entire park to himself.

A sharp crack to his left caught his attention, he turnedcautiously, but wasn’t expecting an actual enemy attack, not in the middle ofthe village.

When he saw who it was lurking in the shadows, he completelyrelaxed and waved a greeting. “Sasuke, how are you?”

The man muttered something under his breath, but he didn’tlook distressed, so Chouji decided that he was probably fine. “You out for a walk to?” he asked, slowly restartinghis walk, as his friend matched his pace. “It’s a lovely evening for it.”

“Yeah.”

Ok then, Sasuke didn’t feel like talking today – not surprising,he rarely did – but that was fine with him, it was just as nice to have someoneto quietly wander through the park with sometimes.

They walked together slowly, Chouji humming a song that hadbeen stuck in his head recently, his friend zigzagging as they followed thewinding paths, sometimes drifting close enough that their swinging arms couldalmost touch, before rapidly veering away until they could easily be mistaken fortwo strangers who just happened to be walking in the same direction. He alwaysended up closing the distance again after a few minutes though.

As the sky was beginning to turn purple above them, Choujisuddenly frowned and slowed to a halt, Sasuke following his lead a few steps later.

He stared back at him with a question in his dark eyes.

“Wait, isn’t your place back over that way?” Chouji said,pointing at when the path had branched in two directions several feet ago.

Sasuke looked a little surprised, though whether it was atChouji’s knowledge of where he lived or himself forgetting was unclear. “…Yeah.”

He smiled and started walking again, giving his friend ashort wave as he passed, saying, “Well, guess this is where we split up then,it was nice seeing you, hope you have a good evening!” before he finally turnedaway to rush to his own home; he’d spent a lot of the day dallying, now he hadto rush home and get ready to see his best friends!

---

“Damn, that was delicious, Karui really knows her food, huh?”

Ino scoffed, flipping her long hair dramatically inShikamaru’s face. “Of course she does, any girlfriend of mine must have impeccable taste.”

He grinned at his two friends childishly swatting at eachother as he gathered up the dishes and depositing them in the sink. He leftthem to soak in some hot water – Ino had drawn washing-up duty tonight andShikamaru would be in charge of drying and putting away – before returning tothe table and flopping back down in his chair, taking a long sip of his tea.

“Long day?” Shikamaru asked, finally disentangling himselffrom Ino’s long, crushing arms.

Chouji nodded. “Yup, though it’s weird, I ran into loads offriends today, but everyone was acting kinda… strange.”

Ino cocked a fine brow, asking, “Strange how?”

“All sorts of ways, Naruto wanted to hang out even though hewas injured, Hinata looked really feverish, Neji was all nervous about observingmy class, Temari and Gaara were bickering and Sasuke was being all spacy,” hesaid, shrugging his shoulders as he thought about it harder, “maybe the hotweather we’ve been having is just getting to people.”

There was a long, heavy silence, prompting him to glance upat his friends. They were sharing an unreadable look, identical crooked smirks ontheir faces as they rolled their eyes in perfect unison.

“Wait, do you two know something? Seriously- why are youlaughing, what’s so funny, is this some prank I’m not in on? Guys-”

---

#ictoan writes #chouji akimichi #narucho #hinacho #nejicho #chogaa #temacho #sasucho #this one might've gotten a.. little out of hand #just a bit #nO REGRETS #why did my internet have to start playing silly buggers RIGHT when i'd finished writing this #ictoan answers #Anonymous

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littlehollyleaf · 7 years ago

Text

Ask a writer!

tagged by @mysillylittlesoapbox (yes I do still write fic... sometimes :p I’m afraid it’s all Gotham now though!) ...I don’t usually do memes about my writing though so, this should be...interesting...

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

my name is holly, holly leaves are a thing, I wanted to just be ‘hollyleaf’ but it was already taken so I figured ‘well hey, I’m also small...’ and voila! (no, I’m so sorry, but the Warrior Cats series was not involved at any point, I still haven’t read them and only know a character has my username, or a version of it, because of all the asks I keep getting about it :P)

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/favorites, follows/subscriptions, visitor hits, kudos)

So I had a quick glance at AO3 and this is something it looks like WAAAAY too much effort for my lazy ass to figure out, plus I dunno how accurate the AO3 stats would be for my stuff anyways because I only very recently put all my fic on there after having most of it posted (and therefore commented on and otherwise interacted with) solely over at LJ for years and years...

I would imagine it’s Imitating Life (spn, deancas), because that’s the one I remember getting the most feedback for. So I’ll just go with that!

3. What is your FFnNet/AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

It’s the same as my tumblr one. Because it’s me and I already had the image saved in an appropriate size. I know, dull right?? (back on LJ I was OBSESSED with finding and/or creating SO MANY different icons to convey different moods and whatnot - they were basically an oldschool version of reaction gifs I guess - but on any other platform I’ve been just... meh about the icon thing... idk!)

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

@vampirebillionaire has been a regular for my Gotham stuff, notable for jumping ship with me into foxma :) (well not jumping... simultaneously enjoying :p), for which I am profoundly grateful xx but generally my fic style and content is a bit... eclectic I guess? so no, no one who is super regular

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Of my own? Nah. Well... not AGAIN AND AGAIN like on the regular. I HAVE re-read my stuff OF COURSE :p But usually it’s me re-reading previous parts of a series/set to get the feel for the story/characters again as I write new stuff. Though admittedly I have re-read Imitating Life more than most probably, to check it still reads okay.

As to other authors’ fics - I must confess that I read less and less these days, so there is def not a single one I constantly return to.

I have, however, re-read a few by depthsofgreen since I got into Gotham, as well as some by rissalf and silentsinger

Back in the day there was this one spn last unicorn AU I used to re-read the night before each premiere, because it was a deliciously angsty way to get me in the mood for a new season and pass the time while waiting - particularly notable because AUs are not really my thing, so it was an interesting choice for me to keep returning to! Alas I have lost my link to it however :( Should anyone know the one I mean drop me a line! (Cas was the unicorn, obvs, Dean was the Prince, Sam was Schmendrick, Anna was Molly and Meg was Fortuna)

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

I have ONE (1) story bookmarked - because it is a WIP I am following (and I just learnt how to bookmark the other month)

...what even is subscribing and how is it different??

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

None at all if possible. Although most of my fics end up being Canon Divergent in the end ofc they are generally canon compliant (based on my interpretation of the canon anyways) at the time of writing... Sometimes canon changes things while I am in the middle of writing stuff though ofc (*shakes fist at Gotham right now*), in which case I will unavoidably be writing something knowingly Canon Divergent/What If.

(aside - I tried to write an spn x-men AU once, but I got bored very quickly... full on AUs are just not me!)

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

OH THERE’S A STATS PAGE?

*checks*

K - 34 subscribers and 423 bookmarks (whoa that seems a lot??)

hey there’s graphs and stuff with your top five fics based on hits too - that’s pretty cool - my top is in fact Holding On and Letting Go... probably because it was one of my last big spn fics and one of the first I published on AO3...

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

No... I mean... I don’t think so? If there ever has been it’s passed me by and I’ve forgotten about it.

...for a hot minute I was into Eddie/Isabella in Gotham, and that plot was ofc (understandably) received VERY POORLY by the fandom, so I may have at one point been hesitant to explore that idea (and the related Ozzie/Eddie/Izzy thoughts I had) because of that... but I never got as far as wanting to actually WRITE anything that I recall so... I guess not really?

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

There’s a couple of dumb little grammatical things I wish I was better at remembering - like when it’s ‘passed’ and when it’s ‘past’ or when it’s ‘effect’ and when it’s ‘affect.’ Because I forget and have to look it up Every.Damn.Time!

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Well, the ship I’ve written most for is deancas - so it’s def ‘popular ships’ I write most! (though I would like to point out that it WASN’T ONE when I STARTED :p).

I’m not opposed to writing rarepairs as well however (she says, in the middle of a huge Gotham rarepair series!). I just write... whatever I’m enjoying most at the time.

12. How many stories have you posted on FFNet/AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

I’ve got 39 works up on AO3. Never published on FFNet. Probably got a few little things that I’ve only ever published on tumblr (like my cracky spn/WtNV crossover :p), so total number published across the board is more like 40ish...

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

(not counting the abandoned spn x-men AU that will remain forever unfinished) Just one. I CANNOT work on more than one fic at a time.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

In my head (my stories are never especially complex after all). Once I’m stuck into a fic though I do tend to start creating bullet points below the main text of certain things that are coming next - like specific lines or phrases/metaphors I might think up as I go that I want to make sure I include, or the order of certain scenes if there is a series of short ones on the way, or sometimes points with question marks if I haven’t quite decided on something (eg. ‘have Eddie take his hat off here or wait until Ozzie smiles at him?’ that kind of thing...)

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

No. I came CLOSE to co-writing a DCBB with the lovely @takadainmate YEARS AGO but we never quite made it work (I got a distracted by involving Balthazar in a subplot and went on my own tangent, we had trouble even getting together to discuss it, the deadline started looming and eventually we wisely close to call it a day!).

For a while there were VAGUE murmurings about returning to the idea... but the plot involved Dean and Cas getting trapped together in Purgatory you see aND THEN SEASON 8 HAPPENED!! So we decided to let canon run with it instead :P

16. How did you discover FFNet/AO3?

While I don’t use FFNet and don’t even read stuff there now, I did used to read fics on it early on. I discovered it while searching for info on my very first TV obsession Due South and was DELIGHTED to find a place full of stories about this thing I loved but had no new content for at the time :)

AO3 I remember being talked about and used a little by my LJ crowd, which is how I heard of it. I didn’t start using it myself until recently when I realised it had very much become the go-to hosting site used by tumblr fic writers.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on FFNet/AO3?

Nah.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

...my personal readers? As in, not the general name for the various fandoms (like ‘spn family’ or ‘Gotham fam’), but for the people who read my fic specifically?

No... that seems... weird...?

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

Actually... no... no one specific. Just... reading lots of fiction by lots of different writers, fic writers included, is what inspired/encouraged me to take a crack at it myself I suppose.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

Do not listen to me!

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

Um... both I suppose. Only... my plotting isn’t really... plotting.

Because I just... daydream, you know? And after a bit I’ll realise that I’m coming back to one particular daydream more often than another. And adding to it. And adding to it. Until I’ve got something at least vaguely coherent. At which point I make a decision as to whether I like the scenario enough to write it down or not and if I do, well, it’s already pretty much there and fully formed in my head, so no additional ‘plotting’ necessary (just the ironing out and researching of a few details).

But while I’m daydreaming... well that’s me ‘figuring it out as I go’ I guess.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

My first foray into writing fic was with a Clex re-write of S05 Smallville. It ended up being a sprawling, much too ambitious multi-chapter thing I had no hope of ever finishing. But hey, it kept me out of trouble :p

Anyways, I was part of a sci-fi society at Uni at the time I was writing and each of us in the group developed these different fictional versions of ourselves over the course of our time together... because we were a sci-fi society and it was fun! And I thought it would be a laugh if, for one chapter, I put all of us into my SV fic. So I did (I made us all kryptonite infected characters who lived at Lex’s secret 33.1 facility - if any SV fans are reading) and prefaced the chapter with some disclaimer about how I was sorry if this part was a bit too self indulgent or ‘mary-sue’ or whatever, but that I couldn’t resist doing it for my friends, and that things would get back to normal next chapter.

And generally it was fine - I didn’t have many readers anyway :p

But long LONG after the fact, when I had written many other chapters since, I got a comment on this one chapter from someone saying that they felt my self-insert characters came across as too obviously self indulgent and were unnecessary and that I shouldn’t have written them in.

And you know, it was a fair call. But since I’d actually prefaced the chapter with myself saying that’s EXACTLY what they were, it seemed a bit odd to me that this person would bother making a point of the issue. And to compound confusion - this person had actually already commented POSITIVELY on the chapter when I first posted it, so their comment read something like ‘I’ve been re-reading this and on consideration ACTUALLY I think you should know that...’

So... that was a bit odd. Not really bad, but notable enough that it’s stayed with me! Since I was many many chapters along in the story at that point though it was easy enough to just nod and shrug and move on.

I’m lucky in that I’ve never received any actual scathing or horribly negative comments otherwise. I like to think I’d be thoughtful and philosophical about any serious criticism I might receive...

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

Hmmm. Exposition probably. My focus is typically on a character’s emotion at any given time, but when the only thing happening is characters discussing what’s happening and when and why there’s not exactly much strong emotion involved you know? So I struggle, because it’s boring to write and I constantly fear I’m not describing/depicting it in a way that is interesting to the reader and blah blah.

(part of the reason I don’t often write complex stories anymore perhaps - less narrative means less exposition!)

(smut used to be hard... now it is less so... though that doesn’t mean I think I’m good at it now! I don’t think I’ll ever shake the fear that my smut is actually cringe-worthy...)

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

Just The Fox and the Scorpion :)

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

No. Like I say above - I CANNOT work on more than one fic at a time. How do people do that??? I bow to you all!

I have in the past paused in the middle of longer spn fics (like my DCBBs) to knock out some quick ‘finished in the span of an evening’ FICLETS, usually in response to specific happenings in canon (like when Gabriel died and I just HAD to type something up as an outlet). But I don’t think that’s really quite what this question means? Because those aren’t projects OR stories, they are just... SCENES, you know? Also - I haven’t written a ficlet in FOREVER, so I’m not even sure I could do it anymore...

Having said this - I DO CONSTANTLY DAYDREAM. Which involves daydreaming multiple scenarios not exclusive to whatever fic I’m in the middle of. Some of which may well end up being part of the next fic I end up writing. But that’s hardly ‘planning’ I think? Because at that stage of things I’ll have no desire to make what I’m dreaming part of an actual story/fic.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

Nah. I just write when I feel like it and keep going until I’m done.

If I’m writing for a challenge this changes ofc, because DEADLINES. So sometimes I’ve had to set goals because of that - usually it’s something vague though, like ‘you need to get to this point in the plot by tomorrow night Holly, come on!’ Nothing so regimented as a specific amount of time and/or words every day.

...generally when I’m in the middle of a fic I end up in a kind of... idk, natural momentum that pulls me on? Like there’s this constant FEELING in the back of my mind urging me to get back to the story. And not in a nagging guilt kind of way, in a ‘this is what I WANT to be doing right now’ kind of way.

Not that I end up easily writing every time I get back to the fic or anything! Sometimes I’ll get back to the page and just... be stuck, find I’m not in the mood or can’t think of the words or whatever. Which is frustrating because I still have that feeling of WANTING to continue the story, but I’ll know that I’m not in the right frame of mind so have to leave it for a bit (which can be anywhere from a few hours to a week). Generally the pull to keep writing draws me back in eventually though.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Goodness yes. I think if you’re writing regularly you’re just ALWAYS improving, aren’t you? Naturally my fic today is better than my first attempts, but likewise I think some of my Gotham fics are better than my spn fics in some parts. It’s a constant process isn’t it?

28. What is your favorite story(s) that you’ve written?

Imitating Life remains one of the fics I’m most proud of. Not only did the main story hold up well AND stick to overall canon (when it comes to Dean and Cas at least), so I think anyways, I also wove in a couple of subplots I very much enjoyed seeing through to the end. PLUS I really enjoyed all the meta nonsense, including messing about with the format to make it like look (a little bit) like a screenplay. So yes, that one will always hold a dear place in my heart :)

For Gotham I don’t think I’m ever gonna do better than We Are What We Are tbh

29. What is your least favorite story(s) that you’ve written?

Generally unimpressed by ALL my SV fic now. And considering I spent SO MANY HOURS/DAYS/WEEKS/MONTHS/YEARS of my life on it all I kinda feel like I should feel bad about that but... you know I really don’t? Because if it wasn’t for all the time and effort (and love and fun) I put into those not very good stories, I wouldn’t be enjoying the work I’m proud of and writing today. So *shrug emoji*

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

5 whole years? Tbh I rather think I’ll have stopped writing by then. I’ve been winding down when it comes to fic for a LONG TIME now and writing for Gotham feels very much like a minor, brief resurgence of the hobby. Currently planning on calling it a day once I’ve finished Fox and Scorpion in fact.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

The part that doesn’t involve writing.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Trying not to be repetitive.

Have I started a paragraph with this character’s name too many times in a row? Am I using ‘furrowed brow’/’bites lip’/’narrows eyes’/’insert stock descriptive phrase here’ too often? Did I use this phrase already or was that in another fic or in the book I was just reading? Is there too much alliteration in this sentence? - to name but a few of the questions that inevitably pop up related to my paranoia about repetition.

33. Why do you write?

Because I’m insatiable and the stories onscreen aren’t enough for me.

...well that was exhaustingly introspective so I’m way too tired to tag! Interesting one though, made me think! (and taught me some stuff about AO3 :p)

#meme #about me

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