#also likely easy to see how non-exhaustive this is for the music that came out this year! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Note

It is angst hours, a little idea for a little sad chaos in my DR entered my head - Feel free to decline to write by the way! It is very specific and not everyone likes to write about these themes either way 💕

This would be Bill-centric, maybe before he’s in a relationship with the reader that is also a member of the band. Their world tours took huge turns on them, I mean, Bill had literal surgery for his vocal chords and they were all very exhausted. What if, after a show that was not very smooth for the reader as she was feeling very lightheaded with the lights and noise so she misses a couple notes, reader collapses from exhaustion or malnutrition when getting off the stage (let’s be honest the kids were running on 2hrs of sleep, energy drinks, alcohol and adrenaline). How would he react and act on this but most importantly, being by reader’s side as she recovers. Maybe you could imply that the reader was also there for him when he had his surgery :)

Have a great day btw 💖💖

(I should script this into my Dr, dam. But anyways, Hi and thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful day! Here ya go!)

Bill Kaulitz x Exhausted!Reader

Sometimes you and Bill were just straight out tired

You never knew how tiring being famous could be

When you were young you dreamed of being on stage, being famous and everything that came with it

Until you actually did

Sometimes, you could compare it to hell

You never regretted getting famous with their friends and boyfriend, but you hated the downsides that came with it

You had no privacy, interviewers asked personal questions, you were followed, you had pictures and videos taken of you every second of every day

You sometimes got no sleep, rarely getting a few hours

Ever since it all began tours took everything, you had interviews and you had photoshoots

You and Bill relied on each other a bunch, but even sneaking away was hard and sleeping was always interrupted by something more "important"

Your relationship wasn't even something just between you and Bill

You tried so hard, but you guys were always under a microscope and hounded with rumors

And you guys were only teenagers

You barely saw family, friends, couldn't even go to your own parents house without being followed or stalked

Sometimes you forgot to eat or drink, stressing over shows and little details so much Bill even got worried for you

It got so much worse when Bill had surgery on his vocal cords because of singing non-stop at shows

It really showed how much cons and pros came with being famous, sometimes you wished you could just have a single day with just you and Bill

But you couldn't even get that, not even in the hospital when he was trying to get better

So, safe to say you were all fucking tired

You ran on energy drinks, caffeine and adrenaline all the time and sometimes two hours of sleep, maybe three

So many things were going on at once, and shows were never easy, but one was worse than the others

You were light headed and dizzy on stage, the bright lights and loud music you usually loved was messing everything in your mind up and you felt like you were gonna throw up and pass out

You missed a couple notes, which you never did, and Bill immediately noticed

He got worried when he saw how out of it you looked

You were sweaty, staring around and your eyes looked barely open

Bill got concerned and the concert took a little break when you looked like you were about to gag

Bill somehow made his way beside you, which you barely noticed

Bill put his hand around your waist and immediately you stumbled

He caught you the best he could, shooting Tom, Gustav and Georg looks before he helped you off backstage

Right when you guys got off, he stumbled when you actually closed your eyes and passed out

"Oh, shit. (Name)?!"

He was shaking you, hearing you mumble in his arms as he was freaking out a bit but trying to remain calm

He called for help and got you back to y'all's dressing room as the guys got off quickly, seeing their friend legit on the ground

What Bill figured out from staff and your mumbling was that you were exhausted, staff hadn't even seen you eat for a bit and as guilty as he felt, neither did Bill, or Gutav, or Georg, or Tom

Bill felt like shit and stayed in the dressing room with you,

You were sitting on his lap, Bill holding you asleep as he tried to make sure you were okay

He was worried as shit and felt guilty

You noticed when he was getting sick but he didn't notice how you were being eaten alive by exhaustion and stress

He was too, but that wasn't an excuse

He stayed with you the entire time, never leaving your side

"It's okay, it's okay."

You couldn't hear anything but Bill's voice as he held you, you exhausted form sitting between his legs with his arms around you.

"I'm fucking tired, Bill." You shook your head, wiping away the angry and frustrated tears as Bill rested his chin on your head, kissing the top of your head to try and comfort you.

"I know, I know." Bill whispered back, feeling the way out gripped onto his arms and let the tears fall as you were held to his chest.

"I can't go back out." You mumbled out through your tired sobs, your body not letting you do anything else but he held.

"I know, you don't have too." Bill shook his head, running his hand over your hair as he pulled back to look at you.

"It's over. You don't have to do anything." Bill comforted you, his face closer to yours as you wiped your eyes, the anger and the exhaustion all from the months before coming out.

You shook your head, sniffling as you tried to push him towards the door softly.

"You can, you don't have to stay. Go have fun, I'll be okay." You tried to convince Bill, the Kaulitz boy shook his head as he gently grabbed your wrists.

"I'm not going back out there without you, I'm not leaving you." Bill calmly denied, interrupting you as you started to argue back.

"I'm exhausted too. You stayed with me when I wasn't too hot," Bill tried to smile for you, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, cupping your cheek.

"It's my turn to take care of you now." Bill stated, seeing the way you stayed silent but the way your body began to shake a little more, Bill knew he wasn't leaving for anything.

"It's okay, it's over now." Bill whispered into your ear, kissing your temple as he heard another son rack through your form.

Bill knew you as the strongest person he knew, but now you needed him like he needed you when he had his own surgery.

And the way you now wrapped your arms around his neck, he pulled you onto his lap, holding you as you clung to him as an exhausted teen.

Because that's what you were, a teenager with too much on their plate.

So Bill let you hold your arms around his neck, gently sitting on the ground with you and whispering nothing but apologies and comforting words in your ear.

Bill wouldn't leave you, not even when you said you were okay, and now you needed him like he would always need you.

#tom kaulitz #gustav schäfer #georg listing #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill

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imnewherebyviva · 2 months

Text

in defence of being new

N – Could you explain to me what it is you do, as if we met at a wedding

PD – Sure, so I make music that would come under the pretty far reaching genre of electronic. …I’m mainly interested in dance music and experimental sounds and where they intersect. I synthesize (make from scratch) or sample (arrange little bits of sounds that already exist) using my laptop mostly, sometimes other things. I teach a lot, and sometimes DJ but I’m less interested in that right now. If we really met at a wedding I would probably drop in that I have a mechanical engineering degree so that you’d know I’m smart and that I got into producing because for many years I was teaching sound engineering and physics, and I began to see I needed to understand more about production in order to be a more effective teacher.

N – Noted, so can you tell me what this is?

PD – This mailout?

N – Yes

PD - This is a place to document my experience of learning about sound, and learning how to produce music, how I came to think of myself as a “producer”, my investigations into how gender, class and disability (I’m deaf) has shaped my musical taste. For the last two years I’ve been on a quest to answer a series of questions. Many have more or less categorical answers that would be easy to find with a quick google search. But I’m trying to find the answers experientially so that they live in my body not just my conscious mind.

Here is a non-exhaustive list of these questions:

How do I learn and why?

What makes me retain information and commit to memory, see it as important to me, contextualise it, and crucially, pass it on?

What drives me to learn something “hard”?

How and where did I learn to perceive certain things as “hard” to learn?

Where does my assigned gender fit into the answers to the above?

How do I perform my gender differently depending on who/what I’m teaching?

How does this performance impact how the information is received/interpreted?

How has my teaching practice shaped my practice as a producer/composer?

Mostly this mailout will include writing but it will also have lots of things to listen to and bighugefeelings.

N – bighugefeelings?

PD – Yeah, this is kind of a love note to everyone who’s held my hand thru this journey called music so far.

N – Ok, and what is this?

PD – What, this interview?

N – Yeah

PD – Well, I wanted to talk to you and lay out the many reasons why I’m starting to record and share my process in this way, because, I’m kind of nervous about it, and I don’t think the reasons are self-evident. Maybe I’m just reminding myself why exactly I’m revealing myself in this way and hopefully it will strengthen my resolve.

N – Ok, so why *are* you writing about your process and sharing it in this way?

PD - So, I suppose it began one day in the car with my mum I put on some drone1 because she asked me to play some relaxing music.

N - What’s drone?

PD – Drone is a genre of noise music that’s defined by a slow rate of change. In its essence it’s exactly like what the verb to drone means in regular speech, if something is making a droning sound we hear that as like traffic sounds in the distance, a fan, maybe like the hum of a room of people talking as heard through the wall. It’s considered minimal, because although the sound might be quite loud or full, nothing really happens, it just goes on and on. It can be subtle or intense. It’s often atonal as in there’s no recognisable like melody, it’s more of a texture and sensation than what I would would typically refer to as music

N – hmmm yes I can hear it in my head… so you’re in the car with your mum and you put on some drone.

PD – Right, so I put what I consider to be a very low key, relaxing drone on she asked me quite genuinely why I would want to listen to those kinds of sounds. It’s a good question! And probably a moment of me being not a very good DJ and not reading the room/car. But to me drone is like being in the womb or something. Or what I imagine it might sound like to be deep under water like rushing, undulating, repetitious and steady. I think drone is an acquired taste not because the sounds themselves are unfamiliar but because we usually encounter them by chance, in our day to day life. I think in that moment I just realised how much of the sounds I really love and am interested in are ostensibly not that pleasant or not recognisable as sounds you would actively seek out.

N – So you’re saying you’re writing this in an attempt to explain your music to your mum?

PD – On the first hand, yes… I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot about what the outcome of making music could be other than the final track, EP, tape, record. I think there is a very linear perception that “making music” will come to the natural conclusion of music (a thing) that has been made (action, completed). But there are several issues with that like who or what deems music finished? Just because it’s released does that mean it’s finished? And could there be various other outcomes like for example could the outcome be a piece of writing like this?

There’s such a hyper saturation of music, as tools to make music become more accessible, I could sing a song into my phone and upload it to SoundCloud and that’s me I’ve made a song. It’s hard for me to think of my musical abilities as my primary most useful contribution to this world. Not to put myself down. But I think my strengths lie in how I think about sound and the discussion around what I’ve learned could be more impactful then the sounds themselves.

I heard Emma Warren mention this book in an interview called Musicking by Christopher Small and I went out and bought it (still to finish) but basically he argues for a more far reaching and integrated understanding of what making music means and coins the term Musicking to encompass the complex web of roles carried out in the pursuit of making music happen. One of the quotes I love so much “The act of musicking establishes in the place where it is happening a set of relationships, and it is in those relationships that the meaning of the act lies” I’ve always understood my pursuit of music to be relational, a way to connect and receive messages and understand people in this nonverbal way. As if musiking was a practice that I absorbed rather than something that was inside me waiting to come out. So that’s why when people say you should make music for yourself first, it never made sense to me…

N – What do you mean?

PD – I just feel like music is so often a vehicle for me to get to know someone, form experiences together, connect. And as such, I find it difficult to make music without imagining the context or the person by whom it will be consumed…consumed is such an ugly way to put it…absorbed? encountered? or to create without thinking of who I fancy or am I’m trying to impress at that particular time. All of these things that guide my interest…it feels kind of cringe to admit that.

N – Why have you chosen to *write* about it?

PD – I used to feel really uncomfortable to speak with conviction about music. Part of this was because I thought my opinions weren’t developed enough to discuss them confidently.

I would be nervous I’d label a genre wrong, not know the difference between a hat or snare sound or the difference between a stab and an acid line and a bassline, are all rhythmic things drum sounds? Are all melodic things synthesizer sounds? Nervous that I’d sound new.

Sound is abstract and our language is so limited when it comes to describing it, you have to speak in all these different abstractions and use metaphor and simile that are usually related to other senses not to do with hearing, we talk about the colour of sound and the texture of sound. So learning how to pull these things together in a way that doesn’t sound totally nonsensical is quite daunting especially when you’re usually talking to men and there are very few women in the field so you already feel like you stick out.

I think an archetypically masculine way to speak is to put distance between the speaker and what they’re saying. To speak definitively or to reach for objective language like it’s not just your opinion but the categorical truth. For example talking about why a track is good, as if to say I like it because of its objective merit not because you had an emotional experience that has imprinted a positive memory of this into my brain, it’s really impenetrable and impersonal and just not true.

Anyway I’m getting a bit off topic, I’m writing about it as opposed to something else because writing about it means the I have to summon the confidence to put down in black and white for other people to read and stand over it like yep that’s what I think. Writing and sharing is legitimising my experience. Emma Warren says “Explanation can be an act of protection, validation and resistance”

N – You’ve called it “I’m New Here” could you explain that title a bit to me?

PD – So I chose the title I’m new here after much deliberation (and several rambling voice notes to Ly) because on the surface it’s quite cute and self-effacing, relatable. Something my supportive friends would refute when I say it. But what does it even mean? New is synonymous with lack of experience and naivety, maybe also lack of skill. But relatively speaking of course, I am new, I’m new to making music, I’m new to thinking of myself as a sound artist/producer. So I think of this as like a manifesto In defence of being new, because I mean new in the sense of fresh, enthusiastic, unlimited but the preconceptions that come with experience, malleable.

I can say (because I’ve seen it over and over) that being a beginner is a precious time, you’ll never see things the same way, you’ll never hear things the same way again, you’ll never be so bold as when you don’t know any better. This time is so interesting and is worth documenting, archiving, discussing frankly.

What I’ve found interferes with this, is ego. I definitely spend most of my time trying to cover it up or to not sound like a beginner, worrying about sounding obvious or not like “myself” (whatever that means). I spend so much time musically trying to sound more accomplished and further down the line than I am and plagued by a sense of urgency like I need to impress the producer boys in my phone.

In the end I went with the title I’m New Here because it makes me a bit uncomfortable, it doesn’t sound edgy, it sounds soft and vulnerable and humble and open. I think it’s important to lean into that feeling.

N – The bi-line is “A Public Research Archive”?

PD – Yeah the name is a hybrid of what I originally called it “An archive of sonic learning” and a description Frank gave it when I was talking to him about an application “Public Research Notebook” I think the concept of an archive is important to me, important to a lot of people, Irish people, people who’ve had their history interfered with or decimated entirely… I’m plagued by a feeling of impermanence that I think is a common malaise in the world we live in today, but is also very personal for example I’ve moved house… I don’t have the exact figure on me but around 20 times...bouncing around magnolia rentals with my mam and then around lets and sublets as an adult. It really difficult to piece together a sense of continuity… my family is quite fractured and I have huge holes in my understanding of where I come from… blanks I’ve got to fill in myself or just make peace with I suppose. More contemporarily, it’s just part of life now that good things don’t last long, people, places, things. They get knocked down, knocked back, pushed out. Documentation and record keeping is so important. I’m re-reading The Price of My Soul by Bernadette Devlin. She wrote it when she was 22. It’s so important to document things as they’re happening, not just with the retrospective of things that became important with time. Memory is fickle and unreliable. Already I’m feeling my present reality colour my past and how I think about how I got here, like these things made sense at the time, the benefit of hindsight. Emma Warren says “Tell it now”

N – Is that from “Document Your Culture”?

PD – Yes, that pamphlet is a big inspiration for me.

N – So the culture that you’re documenting is what exactly?

PD – Well first and foremost as I said, I’m documenting how I’m learning to make music. And I think, in thoroughly documenting that, my network, people who inspire, influence me, offer me help support and guidance, my culture will become evident, by proxy. it’s important to me to centre my experience in all of this. To link it with how I came upon information and to try to show my complex web of sources, the flow of information. Relinquish the cloying notion of original thought.

I think explaining things clearly feels like practicing generosity and maybe a kind of indirect collaboration with whoever is reading. Whereas explaining things in a veiled or jargonistic or inaccessible way feels like showing off. Mystery really doesn’t appeal to me, but sharing so openly feels incredibly exposing, and makes me really uncomfortable. And that’s a big part of what makes me sure I need to do it.

N – Could you tell me more about what it is about sharing your process that makes you uncomfortable?

PD – Gosh there are so many answers to that… I think a base fear is that once people know exactly how you got to the point you’re at it’s less interesting? Or it takes the shine off, takes away from the image of you as a singular mind and talent, exposes what’s propping you up and maybe you’ll seem less special or they’ll draw lines of comparison between your work and others that make it less impressive. That your references are basic. and maybe your praise and validation will have to be shared.

Again I think it’s a symptom of our atomised society that we’re so obsessed with being perceived as individuals with a distinctive voice rather than just one of many voices in a choir. Brian Eno’s “scenius“ and all that.

When it comes to electronic music which is my primary outlet, this fear is becomes heavily gendered… women struggle to be taken seriously in technical roles, we’re consistently left off production credits. There are so many layers to it, something I have lived experience of and that my friend and long-time collaborator Kate Butler is producing a whole radio documentary on. Credit will be deferred to the nearest man. So I suppose I can feel the fear that if I reveal my methods I’ll be outing myself as just a girl who’s basically cheating somehow or doesn’t have any original take or contribution.

N – So in sharing your learning process as thoroughly as possible you’re trying to kick against that fear? Maybe attempting a kind of collectivist gratitude, building some kind of resource or maybe charting a course?

PD – Emma Warren says “offering hope and permission by example” so yes, something like that. Although I would never be so bold as to think what works for me would ever work for someone else. For example, I’m talking from a very privileged position right now as I’ve been really well funded the last couple of years. I got the basic income and a couple of Arts Council Bursaries on top of that, as well as taking freelance bits here and there which means I have a decent salary. I’ve had TIME and MONEY to literally and figuratively fuck around, pay people for their time to mentor me etc etc so that is really really important to note. I am someone who’s had a sense of artistic legitimacy handed to me, through renumeration. A large portion of which I was awarded by lottery.

On this point, there’s a lot of mystery that goes along with making a living in the arts. How do you actually do it? Accusations of having rich parents abound. Accusations I’m not above throwing around by the way. Because it’s often the only explanation available and you can become embittered when someone seems to be managing just fine doing ostensibly nothing other than producing “art”. I’m in the extremely coveted position of “full time artist” and I feel a certain amount of responsibility to let people in on how I got here.

N – Who do you imagine will read this documentation that you’re producing?

PD – I’m not sure, maybe no one will read it haha. Assuming someone or more than one person reads it I have a feeling it will at first be people I know, people who know of me through Instagram… probably mainly my musical peers, some of my family or people who are nosey/fancy me. I imagine they’ll all be people with phones, internet access, probably mostly a similar-ish age.

N – That doesn’t sound like a very broad readership? how does that make you feel?

PD – I don’t know.. not like wildly excited tbh but it’s a step in the right direction that maybe people who don’t fuck with the actual sounds I make at all might get something from the written bit… it’s funny though because usually you only are interested in learning about the process of people whose output you like… anyway I don’t know how I feel about it yet but I still feel like it’s worth doing. Maybe it might enrich their experience of the sonic world. That’s the dream.

N – So, what’s next?

PD – You mean what am I going to share here next?

N – Yeah

PD – I’m not sure, I’ve written a lot about the piece I made for my first big commission at the Regional Cultural Centre, how I made it and why, what I found hard about it. Going through that was a metamorphosis because I started as just me and finished as Viva Dean – Sound Artist. So, I think that transition and how it basically happened because I could invoice someone is important for me to document.

N – When can we expect that?

PD – Erm.. I think sometime in the next 4-6 weeks

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mariahkathrynn · 2 years

Text

I don’t miss you

i miss having a safe space

i miss being able to be completely honest

i miss feeling like i was being understood

or knowing that someone else was taking the time to understand

i miss not feeling exhausted after any interaction

i miss not having to constantly worry

i miss reliability

i miss seeing and feeling effort

i liked the new feeling

it was nice, fun

i’m proud of me for trying something new

a few years ago it would’ve been unimaginable

i wish i kept a lot of it to myself though

a lot of it was egged on,

but i knew what it was from the beginning

i’m happy i did it

cuz now i know lol (what not to do)

some updates:

social anxiety

sleep schedule is fucked

not eating

doing the bare minimum (unmotivated)

isolation

some stuff i learned:

life is short

you really don’t know what’s going on in someone else’s life

trust your intuition

have boundaries

i trust too easily

people fr match my energy

something good:

new music

faced some fears (chickens. literally)

mixology friday! (my new favorite stupid thing)

and snack friday lol

something i wanna do:

eat at a restaurant alone

incorporate exercise somehow. but i’m not going to a gym cuz fuck that

make myself a warm beverage in the mornings

wake up an hour early before i have to get my day started

finish “They Both Die at the End”

either do a puzzle, make a new painting

get back into video games

fix my sleep schedule

learn how to bake brioche donuts

make a good cinnamon roll recipe

clean out my closet

be more fearless!

get back into thrifting

things i’m struggling with:

finding joy in things i used to like

connecting w other people.

i literally cannot hold a conversation w anyone. causally talking to people makes me feel anxious. new people especially. and i literally want to throw up when i get asked out lmao. and i just ghost bc my brain doesn’t know how to explain to other ppl “i really want to hang out but my anxiety won’t allow me to even though i am in desperate need of socialization but the idea of it sounds so exhausting and i’m worried that u will think i’m weird/not worth/boring and that u feel u wasted your time, so on the safe side i’m going to decline even tho u do seem cool and feel like if my mentality allowed it, we’d be good friends” in a non-rude way. i can’t even hang out with my friends of 10 years without having this same thought process. i haven’t seen anyone since end of august. literally my worst nightmare came true. ok that sounded dramatic. it’s not the worst thing. but still doesn’t feel great.

i’m not the type to shit talk anyone. and i won’t. but fr my safe space feels taken away from me. and for no reason too. could’ve gone without it. i didn’t see the point. also the switch up was so fast. it was just crazy to me that you didn’t even try to hide it. or maybe it was out in the open all along. sure, you were just matching my energy. but i think that says a lot about who you are and what your intentions were. and i also think it says a lot about how fucking easy i fold whenever someone is nice to me. anyways, i could never be your friend. too fucking complicated.

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k3lynn · 4 years

Text

mine — katsuki bakugou

yandere! katsuki bakugou x reader

cw: yandere au, 3rd year bakugou, violence, reader got female genitalia, anger, off-“screen” murder, mention of (minor) character death, blood, lucidness, possessiveness, degradation, manipulation, stalking, threats, masturbation, implication of sex, swearing, assault, narcissism, horror, slightly delusional katsuki, panic attack, non con, mention of suicide

- I do not condone any of the behavior here, nor do I try to romanticize it. (definition: make it seem like a good thing) any future/current dark fics are purely for entertainment purposes. Also, I don’t think bakugou would EVER do this- I’m just using some dark traits he used to have and twisting them to fit this situation. Not completely proof read and edited, I am exhausted right now I’m sorry. I say some mean things about some characters but I don’t mean it 💗

words: 1.8k

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Look at me.

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME.

Poor little Y/N. You’ve caught the Big Bad Wolf’s attention. Ready to snatch you up and drag you into the deepest parts of the forest where no one will ever find you.

You’ll be all mine, and I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever have to see again.

You’ve been in the same class for 3 years now- and all he had to show for it is an occasional wave, and a shy little “Hi Bakugou” every morning that made his heart leap out of his chest.

Enough for most, but not for him.

In turn, he would tsk. Facing away and setting his head down on the desk- attempting to hide the roaring blush adorning his cheeks and the subtle shuffling in his pants- the way your voice alone could make his balls tighten in need.

Still- you give him merely a glance. He is always around you, but your attention is given to someone else.

Any extra would overlook his grumbling for typical-Katsuki doing his own thing. In reality, he’s holding himself back from snapping and taking you by force.

He wants you to come to him.

You have no reason not to. He’s perfect. Probably the best student to ever enter U.A. High, and on path to become the best pro hero to ever graduate from it.

Coming first in both the Entrance Exams AND the sports festival- a victory he still denies, holding some of the highest grades in class- 3rd only to some geek girl he could easily out-rank in combat and that shitty half n’ half. Even perceptiveness, intellect, and determination that can rival dumb Deku.

He even possesses great skills in cooking and music- Katsuki is a natural-born genius. Anybody who isn’t conscious towards his incredible talents might as well be living under a rock-

Unbeknownst to you, he’s giving you the generous chance to decide when you’ll be his. But his patience wears thinner every day.

It would have only taken a second to turn around in your seat and notice his piercing red eyes glaring at the back of your head.

So why don’t you notice me.

He doesn’t understand why it’s you he obsesses about. He can’t even remember when this whole mess started.

He tried denying his feelings. But quickly- they built up and festered inside him, begging to come out. Love, possessiveness, same thing.

Whether it be watching your twist and turn in the obstacle course- then running to the nearest bathroom to furiously grip his cock.

Snatching your chapstick when you’re not looking and rubbing it all around his own lips- imagining that’s what your lips would taste like if you just kissed him-

Restraining you during combat training by wrapping his arms around you- squeezing your breast a little more than necessary. Pinning you to the floor until you admit defeat.

Or even sneaking into your dorm while you’re in the shower to grab a new pair of panties from your dirty laundry, adding it to the stash he keeps hidden under his bed.

Stalking you. Keeping you close at all times without you even knowing it.

Indeed, he knows he’s a sick and twisted human being.

But by now he hardly cares- he’s worked too hard to ever even imagine of changing his perfect target. Nobody is more deserving of you than him.

So if he has to confront, threaten, and beat every single person in this stupid school to monopolize you for himself- he gladly will. Anyone who goes againts that is challenging him.

He scoffs anytime a boy approaches you- it’s well known around school that anyone who attempts to buddy up with you mysteriously ends up in a hospital room with no recollection of what happened. People even started seeing you as a sign of bad luck.

He’s nice enough to allow you some friends though. But only ones who will guarantee you’ll be around him as much as possible.

So you sit with him, Kirishima, racoon eyes, dunce face, and tape boy in lunch. No one else. Right in front of him.

You’re chatting away with Mina, but unusually, something special came up in conversation.

He always stays focused on his lunch- switching between listening in and day dreaming about bending you over the lunch table and grinding on your ass-

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened- what did Mina just say?

There’s a boy in the management department, a quirkless 2nd year nobody smart enough to somehow get into U.A.

And he asked you out on a date after school.

Shit.

No.

No no no no-

No- this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

My throat burns.

When did he- when did you-

You’re going to say no, right?

I cant breathe.

You don’t like anyone- I know this

I know everything about you- I-

My chest hurts-

You’re mine.

And if he thinks I’ll share then I’ll-

“Mina stop being so loud please...” your delicate little voice whispered.

The rest of the table already took notice of what was going on- bombarding you with questions that made you flustered.

“Woah woah- Y/n, what’s your answer?” dunce face peeps out, Bakugou swore he could smack that grin off his face right then and there.

Katsuki turns to look at you again- a chill traveling down his spine once he made eye contact, but your stare quickly fell to the floor.

“I’m not sure yet- probably not.. ha.” You shrugged- a light pink dusting over your cheeks. The others, satisfied, dismiss the topic.

Had it have been anybody else observing, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. Successfully deceiving him would be harder than taking down All For One.

You’re lying... aren’t you? In front of him too- All because of this quirkless fucking loser-

Katsuki hates lies.

I’m going to kill him.

The walk back to your dorm was disappointing to say the least. But you can’t expect someone to be in the best of moods when they’ve been stood up.

You almost couldn’t believe it either- he had seemed so kind and genuine that you stood there for an extra 2 hours. But that’s your luck with boys-

‘I hope you got a good laugh out of it, jerk.’ You huffed before inserting the key into your rooms lock.

Turning on the lights, you allow your eyes to adjust for a moment before stepping inside and walking to your desk.

“You were waiting for that jackass for so long I almost started thinking you would never come back...”

You let out a startled cry before dropping your keys and whirling around in a flash- recognizing Katsuki’s back as he slowly closes the door.

“Bakugou? Why are you-“

“was he really that special.”

“What do you mean was....“ It’s then you noticed the blood dripping down his arms and hands- your door decorated with the same shade of crimson.

“oh my god.. Bakugou,”

That’s why the poor boy never showed up.

You knew about Katsuki’s “little” crush on you for a while now. His stares weren’t exactly the most subtle after all-

You found his uncertainty adorable, heck, a part of you was waiting for him to confess. But you would have never imagined his infatuation went this far.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll never love you as much as I do.”

He lifts his head, and your eyes meet his. Bloodshot- as if he’d been crying, but the evident smirk on his face showed nothing but pure malice.

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to anyways”

He’s too fast, too close to the door, he has all the advantage in this situation. But you have to try. You have to leave this room at this very moment or you may never make it out alive. There’s no reasoning with him.

You clutch your heart. He steps forward, and you instinctively bolt to the door.

A few easy moves and he has you pinned by the neck on the ground, legs bent and used to hold your arms from jerking too much. His free hand is outstretched, creating small explosions that made you automatically stiffen your movement.

“Bakugou please- I won’t ever tell anyone, we can forget about this and I’ll pretend it neve-“

“I don’t need you to be quiet. I’m the boy who rejected a direct offer from the League of Villains, one of the best students in U.A. high- even if you do rat me out, they’ll never believe you...”

His grip on your neck tightened- nails cutting through skin and little droplets of blood start showing up. His hand starts heating up and a panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll kill you before they even begin to suspect me.”

Choked sobs escape your lips from the pain and fear surging through your body- “I- I thought you said you lo-loved me.”

“I do... that’s why you’ll be mine forever.”

He leaned down, low enough for you to feel his warm breath- then used his tongue to sadistically lick off the tears running down your cheek, a salty but satisfying flavor entering his mouth.

“In this life, and the next. It’s up to you when we see the later.”

You nod, hoping he relaxes the pressure on your neck. His face softens, something you swore you would never see in Bakugou. He releases his hold.

“You made me mess up your neck, next time don’t be so mean.”

He tilted your chin up, observing the scratches and bruises littered all around it. As soon as he determines there’s no serious injury, he picks you up to lay you on your bed. Climbing in next to you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Couples cuddle like this all the time don’t they.”

You gave him silence, although he didn’t mind. With one glare he had you shuffling to move closer to his chest.

“they also kiss.”

You know that right now, there’s no point in fighting. So you give in to what he wants in hopes that one day, you’ll break free from the hold he secretly had on you for so long. You’ll play along. You’ll survive.

You shudder as his hands reach to cradle your cheek, wiping the blood of the boy all over it. He loved it. It proved he won. He gave a light kiss to your lips before attacking your neck, set on putting a new type of bruise on you.

“You should start calling me Katsuki.”

“Ka- Katsuki.” You barely managed to whimper out.

He caresses your hair, cooing soft whispers into your ear in an attempt to calm your sniffling. An action you would have seen as sweet if it weren’t for the constant threat of death over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in horror as you feel his warm hands trail down your body, gripping your smooth inner thigh before delicately starting to drag his fingers up.

“You know...

You silently beg for him to stop.

“There’s one more thing couples do.”

-if anyone is interested- should I make a part 2? (Future edit, I’m not satisfied with this, I might end up rewriting in the future)

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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

Text

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

Part One

Luke Patterson x Fem!reader

Summary: All you wanted was to play the biggest gig of your life with your best friends, but you just might get more than you bargained for.

Warnings: death and some swearing (I don’t think there is anything else but if there is, let me know!)

…

May 1994

“Shit.”

You whispered to yourself as you stared at the old clock on the diner’s wall.

It had only been half an hour since your shift started, but you were already anxious for it to be over.

Cece’s diner was normally one of your favorite places in the world. It was a small, poorly lit building in a boring part of L.A. It didn’t see much business since it wasn’t easy to find. But the air always smelled like fresh coffee and cinnamon.

You loved working there, but it was not where you wanted to be right now.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” A voice asked from behind the counter. You turned to see your boss Cece, a petite middle-aged woman who was eyeing the dirty table in front of you that you were supposed to be cleaning.

“Yeah, sorry. My mind is somewhere else.” You admitted, throwing the empty plates in the tray and carrying them to the kitchen.

Cece shook her head and let out a laugh as she followed. “On a certain guitarist, perhaps?”

Your cheeks flushed and Cece laughed again, grabbing the rag off her shoulder and smacking it against your arm lightly.

She was one of the few people who knew about your feelings for Luke Patterson. One of your best friends, childhood crush, and most recently, your bandmate.

“And for your information, I’m thinking about all of the band because we’re practicing tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Cece hummed, a sly smile on her face.

She always pretended to be annoyed with your ramblings since you joined sunset curve, saying that a sixteen-year-old girl had no business being in a rock band. But you had caught her bragging about you to the few regulars you had multiple times.

She had a son living a few states away, but they weren’t close. So she treated you like her daughter. Which meant she wasn't the biggest fan of you constantly hanging around a bunch of teenage boys. But eventually, she warmed up to them. Especially Alex; he was her favorite.

Luke, on the other hand, annoyed her to no end.

You ran the dishes under hot water and pressed a kiss to Cece’s cheek as you walked past her and back into the main room.

“Besides, Luke doesn’t like me like that.”

Cece rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak but the shrill ring of the phone cut her off. You let out a sigh, grateful for the distraction. She meant well, but when it came to your situation with Luke, you were more than happy to live in denial and ignoring it altogether.

He was your best friend. That’s all that mattered right now.

You shook the thoughts from your head and grabbed the phone’s receiver. “Cece’s Diner. How can I help you?”

“How much do you love me?”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart raced at the sound of Luke’s voice rang through your ears. His choice of words definitely not helping to calm you down. You shook your head, mentally scolding yourself.

“Luke?” You asked which prompted Cece to raise an eyebrow from the other side of the room.

“Hey. I’m sorry for calling you at work but I can’t finish this song and it’s driving me nuts. I need you and your genius brain to come help me.”

Despite your protests, the tap dance in your chest continued. It was ridiculous that after knowing Luke all your life, you were still shocked when he complimented you like that.

“I don’t get off until six, but I’ll come after.” You said, trying not to smile when you heard him cheer in victory. “And before Reggie asks, yes, I’ll bring coffee.”

Luke laughed before singing into the phone. “Get me a large with extra whipped cream and cinnamon.”

“I hate you.” You sang back, making a mental note to wipe off the smirk you could practically hear in his voice before the line went dead. You sighed as you put the phone back on the hook, holding a finger out to Cece.

“Not a word.”

A few hours later, you walked into Bobby’s garage, carrying a cardboard tray in each arm.

You sighed as you looked around the room. Every surface was covered in discarded paper balls and empty fast-food wrappers. You had expected to hear some form of music or at least some talking but the room was dead silent.

In the center of the mess, Alex and Reggie sat on the floor. Alex was trying to balance his drumsticks on his nose, and Reggie was mindlessly strumming his bass. Luke was sitting back on the couch, his eyebrows tightly knitted together as he frantically scribbled into his notebook.

“Your savior is here, and I come bearing coffee.”

All three heads whipped in your direction and within seconds, Reggie was excitedly bouncing his way towards you. He reached out to swipe a cup from the tray in your left hand. You swatted his arm away.

"Not that one. That’s Al’s.”

You set the rest of the drinks on the table in front of you and walked up to Alex. You handed him the cup and he gave you an appreciative smile. You always made sure to get him hot chocolate or tea, since you learned the hard way that caffeine can sometimes make his anxiety worse. He told you he didn’t want to admit that to the guys. So you were happy covering for him.

“Why does he get his own special one?” Reggie pouted as he grabbed another cup and strolled over to Luke, plopping down next to him on the couch. “And why is she the only one who can call you ‘Al’?”

“Because I’m his favorite.” You said, poking Reggie’s cheek as you passed him and took the other seat on the couch next to Luke. Alex just nodded, trying to hold back a smile.

“I thought you didn’t get off for another hour.” Luke said, looking up from his songbook for the first time since you got there.

“Cece knew it was important band stuff so she let me off early.” You shrugged.

“Oh no, she’s not mad at me, is she?” Luke shivered, thinking of all the times Cece had chewed him out for being a ‘bad influence’ on you or made him wipe down some tables for accidentally making you late for a shift. “You know I can’t stand when that woman is mad at me.”

“I also know that all you have to do is give her your little puppy-dog look and she’ll instantly forgive you.”

“Yeah, you guys are alike that way.” Luke teased, sticking his bottom lip out and batting his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what have you got so far?” You said as you bumped his shoulder with yours. He grinned and started translating his messy handwriting for all of you.

The four of you sat there for an hour putting all the words in the right places and by the time Bobby got there, you all felt confident that it was finally finished. You took your place behind your microphone and nodded.

“Okay, Al. Count us down.”

Alex twirled his drumsticks. “1…2…3…4!”

June, 1995

“Don’t look down.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you sang the song you had written a year ago. Your feet bouncing on the stage, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

To your left, Luke raised his arms, trying to hype up the non-existent crowd. Alex clashed his drumsticks together to the beat as all your voices came together.

“Cause we’re still rising up right now.”

You clapped along to the song, the energy coursing through your veins. Luke was in the middle of throwing his guitar behind his back. You rolled your eyes at him and he flashed you a small bashful smile before turning his head.

Your heart fluttered but you forced yourself to turn the other way, singing with Reggie just as the song transferred out of the bridge. The fog machines cued the ending chorus and you gripped your microphone with both hands.

“And even if we hit the ground, we’ll still fly.

Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever.

But living like it’s now or never.“

The other boy's voices dropped out until it was just you and Luke singing the chorus. You looked over at him, but his eyes were glued to the front of the room. Normally, you would share a mic for this part or at least stand close together, but he seemed determined to avoid you.

Just like he had been for the last six months.

You ignored the gaping pit in your stomach and poured all your focus into the song.

“Like it’s now or never!

It’s now or never!“

The final riff sounded and you let out an exhausted but proud sigh. There were a few scattered claps from the staff in the venue. But a curly-haired girl behind the counter was cheering especially loud. Reggie winked at her and leaned into his mic.

“Thank you! We’re Sunset Curve. Tell your friends.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pulled his arm, dragging him to the center of the stage. Alex came from his drum set and you gave him a high five.

“Al, you were amazing!”

“Yeah, dude, you were smoking.” Reggie agreed.

Alex blushed. “Nah, man. I was just warming up. You guys were the ones on fire.”

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Can you just own your awesomeness for once?”

Bobby and Luke nodded in agreement and you raised your eyebrows at Alex, nudging him until he finally smiled. “Okay, I was killing it!”

“I’m thinking we should fuel up before the show. Street dogs?” Luke asked. Alex and Reggie hummed in agreement but you wrinkled your nose.

“I think I’m gonna pass.” You said, jumping off the stage. It wasn’t that you had anything against street dogs, but as far as pre-gig activities go, it didn’t make your top ten list.

Bobby landed next to you and started jogging towards the counter. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and approached the girl wiping tables.

“Oh no.” You said. “Bobby, leave that poor girl alone.”

Bobby turned around just enough to give you a glare as you both reached the counter. The rest of the boys weren’t far behind. You felt Luke slip behind you and throw an arm on Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby told the girl some line about being a vegetarian. But she shook it off, looking over all of you.

“You guys are really good.”

You smiled proudly. “Thank you.”

She returned your smile. “I’ve seen a lot of bands. Even been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.”

Luke was practically beaming. The whole band contributed with the songs, of course, but you and Luke were the main writers, so it was always nice to hear people compliment your words. “That’s what we do this for. I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hey, I’m Reggie.”

“Alex.”

“Bobby.”

“And I’m (Y/n).”

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m Rose.” She said, turning to you. “You have a great voice, by the way. It’s always cool to see a girl lead vocalist.”

Bobby snorted. You elbowed him and Luke gave him a wet-willy. “Oh, thank you. But I’m just co-lead.”

She opened her mouth to say something else but Reggie reached in his back pocket and pulled out a C.D and a t-shirt, handing them to her. “Here’s our demo, and a T-shirt, size beautiful.”

As if on cue, you and Alex rolled your eyes. You sent Rose an apologetic look as she held the shirt up to her body.

“Thanks, I’ll try not to wipe down the tables with this one.”

Alex nodded. “Good call! When they get wet, they kind of fall apart in your hands.”

Bobby glared at all of you. “Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?”

Luke pushed Bobby back and leaned on the counter with both arms. “Yeah, he had a hamburger for lunch.”

The boys started going towards the exit but stopped when Alex noticed you hesitating. “You coming?”

You really didn’t want hotdogs, but you also didn’t want to stay and listen to Bobby attempt to flirt with Rose. So you nodded and followed Alex to the door.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” Rose called out and you turned around. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gave her a warm smile before walking out into the alley. The night air hit your skin and you shivered slightly. It wasn’t cold, but it was definitely a change from the sweaty stage. You wrapped your jacket around your shoulders.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Luke whooped as he jumped through the doors and into the alleyway.

Alex gestured around, wrinkling his nose. “The smell of Sunset Boulevard?”

Luke shoved his shoulder. “No.”

You jumped out of the way as Luke splashed in a puddle. “It’s what that girl said in there. About our music.”

His eyes flickered to you when he said ‘our’ but quickly looked away. It was practically the first time he had acknowledged your presence all night.

“It connects us with people, you know? They can feel us when we play.” He said excitedly, slowing his walking until the rest of you caught up with him.

He reached each arm up and pulled Reggie to his side with one arm and despite being right next to you, he pulled Alex to his other side. You turned your head forward to hide the confused look on your face but you knew Alex saw it.

Other than Cece, he was the only person who knew about your feelings for Luke. You could tell from the look on his face that he was just as confused with Luke’s recent behavior as you were, but he didn’t say anything.

“I want that connection with everybody.”

“Then we’re gonna need more T-shirts.” You heard Reggie say as you reached the end of the alley. You pulled up the hood of your jacket and turned your head away from the line in front of the venue.

You didn't mean to walk so fast, but you were the first one at the alleyway a few blocks away from the Orpheum. You made your hotdog and made small talk with the vendor for a few minutes before the guys caught up.

“You trying to ditch us, (Y/n)?” Reggie asked, putting ingredients on his hotdog.

“Not my fault you guys are slow.” You stuck your tongue at him and he squinted at you. Alex groaned. You looked over at him to see him trying to put a pickle on his tray.

“Man, I can’t wait until the day we can eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile.”

As he apologized to the vendor for getting pickle juice on his battery cables, you, Luke, and Reggie made your way to one of the old couches. They both sat down, leaving one open space next to Luke.

You made a point of sitting on the arm of the couch, letting your feet dangle on the seat. If Luke was going to avoid you, then you were going to avoid him right back. You also avoided the questioning look Reggie gave you before Alex sat down.

Luke didn’t seem to notice. He was bouncing his leg and couldn’t seem to stop smiling, it was obvious that he was still buzzing with energy from the soundcheck.

“This is awesome, you guys.” He said as he made himself comfortable between Reggie and Alex. “We’re playing the Orpheum! Do you know how many bands that played here ended up being huge?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled while the boys chuckled. You were all used to seeing the intense side of Luke, but he had been an even bigger ball of excited energy ever since you booked the Orpheum gig. It could be a little much for the guys sometimes, but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about music never failed to make you smile.

“I’m serious.” Luke insisted as he leaned forward and raised his hotdog in a toast. “Eat up, guys. Because after tonight, everything changes.”

You all toasted and then started to eat. Usually, street dogs weren’t half bad. But this time there was a burnt, nasty flavor that made it hard to swallow. Alex saw your face and nodded in agreement.

Even Luke, who had a super-human stomach, made a face. But his hunger must’ve won out cause he took another big bite.

“That’s a new flavor.” Alex said with his mouth full.

“Relax, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” Reggie told him as he took another bite. You still didn’t feel one hundred percent confident about it but you shrugged and kept eating.

It all happened so fast.

At first, it felt like you were dreaming. Like maybe you had just fallen asleep and would eventually wake up and realize that everything was just a nightmare.

But then the outline of Los Angeles floated away in a haze of grey and you were left in the dark. There was nothing but silence until you heard a voice somewhere in front of you.

It was the sound of Alex’s frantic ranting.

You could feel Reggie and Luke next to you, but they didn’t say anything. You didn’t either.

But you didn’t really need to. It was glaringly obvious what happened, you could feel it in your bones.

You were dead.

Alex’s ranting slowly turned into crying, which made you cry. Luke heard your quiet sniffles and for the first time in months, he touched you.

He reached out and intertwined your fingers loosely in his, gently swiping his thumb across your knuckles. You closed your eyes, trying to soak up the feeling. This was the closest to him you had been in since that night in the studio.

It seemed like so long ago, but at the same time, it was all too familiar. You knew that if you stayed in this moment with him any longer, you would fall apart completely.

So you turned away from him and buried your head in Alex’s shoulder. It seemed like hours passed before the silence was broken and the opening of Now or Never filled the air.

“Is that…?” You started, but before you could finish, the floor disappeared from under you.

You hit the ground with a painful groan and blinked at the sudden flood of bright light. You felt movement next to you and saw Reggie struggling to get up.

You hauled yourself up and turned around to realize you were back in Bobby’s garage. It looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize it. There was a new grand piano and flowers on every table. The room was free of any trash or discarded flannels.

But the biggest change by far, was the girl standing in front of you.

She was about your age with brown hair tied in a ponytail, in a bright yellow shirt, and furry slippers. She was staring at the four of you with wide eyes and a terrified look on her face.

“How did we get back here?” Luke said as he scanned the studio.

The girl screamed, which made the boys scream and cling to each other. Reggie threw himself against Luke and pulled you behind him.

They all screamed for a few more seconds before the girl ran out of the garage doors. You cautiously walked out from behind Reggie and towards the middle of the room, spinning in a full circle.

The boys started talking but you were still mesmerized by all the changes made to the studio.

You looked up towards the ceiling and saw that there were chairs hanging by the loft and countless tiny plants by the windows but you could still see the nail polish-stain you had made on the carpet and the dents in the beams from all the times Luke had messed up his guitar throw.

Carefully, you reached towards the piano and tried to touch a vase of flowers but they passed right through your fingers. Your entire hand went numb then a tingly feeling spread throughout your body.

Well, two things were for sure.

You were definitely back, but you were definitely dead.

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #alex mercer #reggie peters #julie molina #jatp fanfic

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thomotomo · 4 years

Text

You get married to Tom Hiddleston - Headcanon (Male Reader)

A/N: Just a random idea I got I hope you will enjoy it! (Small reminder of the era when I was obsessed with Tom lol)

Also can be read as gender neutral but was intended to be Male Reader

Support Me!

You had been dating each other for 7 years, being engaged for 2 (ofc with Tom’s job it wasn’t easy to organise your wedding)

You two wanted something private, so no journalists

You invited both of your families and your closest friends

Both of you agreed to marry in UK, per Tom’s requests and forest themed as both of you agreed (tho it was mainly your request, bot of you had made compromises)

Fast forward to the wedding day and you had missed Tom a lot, you knew it was the tradition not to see each other before the wedding but you couldn’t help but feel sad not being able to see him in the morning.

Your best man was your best friends, Atsushi with whom you had opened your coffee shop and worked with him

Tom’s best man was Benedict (of course it would be him).

Atsushi was helping you, checking you out to see if nothing was wrong.

You were hella nervous and he was doing his best trying reassure you and calm you down. He calmed you down and smiled proudly at you.

“My baby is growing” joke. You chuckled, he clearly knew how to ease your mind.

Your parents came in, smiling proudly at you and marvelling at how handsome you were in your suit.

They hugged you and kissed you before leaving. Atsushi gave you a gentle tap on the shoulder, smiling and you could swore his eyes were shining.

You followed him, not forgetting to take the single white rose you had bought instead of the traditional bouquet.

Your dog had been waiting for youn in front of the room, not being allowed inside as there was your clothes inside.

You have her a pat on the head, crouching to kiss her and walked towards where you would find the aisle.

You watched as Atsushi took place, facing Benedict.

You heard the music and you walked first Laki (your dog) next to you and you took place in front of your best friend, smiling at Benedict. Laki sitting next to you.

Tom walked in and you lost all ability of breathing. He was just… well breathtaking. He was not in full blue but his vest was a dark blue, same goes for his pants as you could see the shirt he had choosen.

Honestly in that moment you felt as if you were falling in love with him for the first time

Of course Bobby was trotting next to him and you laughed, he was very cute too, in a small tux.

You grinned at Tom when he faced ypu and you gave him the rose, making him blush as he took it.

The officiant started his talking, as you listened to him, a lovesick smile on your lips.

Then came the vows part. You started talking first, proclaiming your love for him.

He did the same and in the end both of your were teary-eyed.

Your best man brought you the rings and you put them on each other

You couldn’t resist and you kissed his now ringed hand.

The officiant finally allowed you to kiss each other.

You kissed him, finally you were married to each other, and more in love than ever.

You walked down the aisle, his hand in yours and both your dogs following you.

At the reception you looked at your friends and family and you thought you could not be happier than now.

Atsushi took the mic, recounting to everyone the time Tom walked in your coffee for the first time and how you blushed and stuttered when you saw him.

Benedict then talked and explained how Tom had been obsessed to come everyday to see you.

Everyone had a good laugh and the night was spend in happiness and laugh.

Tom had ended up with cake all over his face because he tripped face first inside it. (Ofc there was a lot of pictures taken of that event)

You enjoyed the slow dance with him, your head on his shoulder, murmuring sweet words to each other, lovesick smiles on both your faces.

A lot of pictures were taken by the family and the photographer you had specially hired for the job (with ofc a non disclosure agreement, which he mean he wouldn’t be able to publish pictures until both of you agreed)

In your opinion this day was the best day of your life.

After that wonderful but exhausting day, you went to your room and made love, slowly, taking even more time than usually to appreciate each other’s body.

The following day you left for your honeymoon to Sweden

___________

A/N: Dont forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed the story! (Also reminder that you can support me on Kofi if you like my writing :) )

#rpf #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x male reader #male reader #tom hiddleston x reader #reader insert

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

If life gives you melons...

Ship: Loki x F!alt! reader

Rating: Explicit / word count 5,5k

Summary: You've heard about meet-cute, how about meet-ugly? Reader has tattoos and a tongue split. There's this joke that "bisexual alt girls go looking for a girlfriend and end up with sad, tall and skinny white bois" and boy did that hit home. Inspired by this cringy video of Hiddles [youtube link].

During a panel at a comic con, Loki notices reader and they go on a date, reader gets railed: top!Loki, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, all the good stuff. Open ending, with a bonus of reader and Loki pranking Clint.

x. I usually fancy they/them pronouns for Loki but seeing as it's a smut-shot, I decided to go along with he/him for the sake of simplicity. Loki's at least 6'4 tall and you can fight me on that. Also, I write like a Tony stan - I feel the need to apologize to Loki stans for that. I love you guys! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

The long line of people appeared to be neverending. Loki was an enhanced, as the government recently had adopted a politically correct term for Earth's non-human inhabitants, but even his enhanced endurance had begun waning due to sheer amount of people wanting a piece of memorabilia signed by The God of Mischief. Loki had gained a considerable amount of fans after doing his part in killing the mad titan Thanos and by extension, saving the world. It turned out, humankind was a sucker for a good redemption arc.

Loki's hands ached where they wrapped around the pen that he'd been using for nearly 4 hours to neatly place his name, written in neat runescript, on various pieces of merchandise that his fans (and wasn't that a strange thing!) presented to him. He used to think that he would have actually succeeded conquering the earth if he had a grasp on how to use social media and his charm; now, he just wanted the torture to end. An involuntary sigh left his mouth when he saw another print of himself in full battle gear being placed in front of him by a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Um, thank you," She stammered, giggling softly, and Loki spared her a painstaking smile, scribbling his name once again. The woman briefly caught his eyes. "Um, you're the reason- the inspiration for me. I became a stripper."

Loki blanked, feeling his eyes widen and blink on their own accord a few times. He wasn't sure if he heard the woman correctly, as the unusual statement made his brain freeze.

Loud snickering from behind the blushing woman interrupted the system error that he was experiencing in his head. It wasn't often that somebody managed to render him speechless. It looked like whoever was in line behind the stripper woman had taken advantage of that. Loki's eyes snapped to the short-haired person, who looked torn between cringing and breaking into embarrassed laughter.

The stripper left without a word, and as Loki picked up the cursed writing instrument once again, the short-haired person smiled at him kindly. "That was a little weird," They snorted, "And thanks, have a nice day Mr. Loki."

"When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic," Another woman, that appeared to be the short haired person's friend, deadpanned and gave a cynical side-eye to the departing stripper. Loki heard snickering coming from the short-haired person and quietly joined himself. The woman noticed it, winking at him as she collected the newly signed t-shirt. "Bye," She smiled kindly.

It was a split second decision, really. Something about the cheeky way she addressed the situation sparked Loki's interest. "Wait, you forgot something, darling," His baritone called out to the departing woman. She turned around, confused, and hastily grabbed the standard issue photo that he was holding out to her. With a final grateful nod, she smiled and left.

If Loki's smile had returned for the time being, none of his teammates made any remarks on it. Only his brother, Thor, gave a couple of knowing looks to the Asgardian sorcerer.

The woman in question didn't think twice about the photo that she stashed in her backpack along with the signed t-shirt. The Comic-Con had been full of people and the lines were unfairly long. The sheer exhaustion after attending a 3-day long convention had set in and she was eager to simply come home back to her apartment and crash on the nearest soft flat surface. Upon arrival, she did exactly that, flopping down gracelessly on the couch, her backpack landing next to her with a careless thud.

Unloading her trophies was a short time affair: a single white tee with a dozen signatures on it, written in what she hoped was waterproof Sharpie; one mug, shaped like an Iron Man helmet; one poster, showing Spider-Man on a picturesque NYC horizon and a signed photo of one Loki. Strangely enough, she did not remember requesting it - not that she was complaining. Free merch was free merch.

The front side wasn't signed whatsoever. Overcome by curiousity, she turned it around. A phone number was written on the back of it, the handwriting neat and the letters obviously being inked out by a thinner, more sophisticated pen than the one Loki had used for scribbling on the tee. The woman gaped silently, not believing her eyes. Did Loki himself had given her his phone number?

One margarita and a hefty helping of Chinese takeout later, the numbers persisted staring back at her mutely, the neat cursive being almost mocking in its quiet. The woman's smartphone had found a comfortable place right next to the photo, equally mum regarding the unusual situation.

An additional margarita was needed to gather the courage required to actually type out the number in the receiver box. Fruity alcoholic concoction in one hand and phone clutched in the other, the woman's eyes squeezed shut tightly as soon as the dreaded "Hey, got your number today! :)" read delivered. She'd typed and erased the message several times, groaning in embarrassment. How the hell does one approach an alien god?

"Hello! May I ask your name?" The response came after a brief moment - a moment the woman had suffered through by taking too haste sips of her drink, her common since screaming her to not overdo it and wait at least a full minute before replying. Everything felt awkward and misplaced.

In no time, she was sending the screenshots of the conversation to her girl-advice group chat that consisted of her closest friends. Chatting with Loki turned out to be surprisingly easy and he was great at upholding conversation, something that couldn't be said about all those Tinder matches she had had back in the day.

Even if using proper grammar during a text message conversation was something she had to reacquaint herself with, she was glad he wasn't just another boring, shalllow, condescending-ass white boy. Despite the cultural differences and his lack of knowledge of things like pop culture and music - something he said he was working on since New Asgard became a sovereign state on Earth - they bonded over music and tattoos and generally being rebellious against society's standarts.

The invitation to dinner didn't come as a surprise for the woman. She agreed happily, looking forward to continue their conversation outside of the internet - if Loki's part of the chat was anything to go by, not only was he charming, but also quite intelligent. And easy on the the eyes, too. They had traded selfies at some point and the Asgardian didn't look any worse in a hoodie and sweatpants than he did in his battle leathers. Loki had appeared to truly have had integrated into Earth's society.

The night of the date, the continuous text exchange did very little to calm her nerves. Loki texted as much as an overeager teenage boy: every now and then he would double-text and grossly overreact to her sending a simple meme. In fact, he smugly conveyed the fact he'd single-handedly started a meme war between the Avengers and even Steve was forced to participate; something that was, allegedly, out of character for the blonde man.

She didn't mind. Not like she had many friends to have so much fun with. Even if it took her twice the time to do her favourite eyeliner style, it was worth it. She hoped Loki would appreciate the bold, but classy make-up and the dress and shoes combo that accentuated her assets. Her date expressed curiousity about her tattoos and the difference between her preferred style and the humans he spent most time with. She guessed secret agents were not particularly fond of anything that made them memorable so she held out quite the hope for... Showing off some of her tattoos in a more private setting.

In other, simpler words, the woman came in prepared for both a friendly, leisurely stroll and a quality night. Either way, it would be a time well spent.

Loki's shiny, raven hair was impossible to miss as he towered over the rest of the people waiting by the restaurant's entrance. He wore tailored black trousers and a simple cashmere sweater, perfect for the evening's damp, cool air. Tall and lithe, Loki was mouthwateringly handsome.

"Come here often?" She wormed her way through the crowd, causing the man to smirk down at her. Her cheeks flared from the tiny gesture alone.

"Just waiting for a friend," Loki uttered lowly, extending an arm towards the woman, which she gracefully accepted as they made way towards the entrance. "Reservation for Loki," The Asgardian stated to the hostess, who, after a rapid doube-take, led them to a private, secluded area in the back of the restaurant.

Loki shouldered the slightly awkward interaction with grace, paying no mind to the girl. His focus was solely on his date and he was nothing but gallant as he took the woman's purse and held out the chair for her to comfortably sit down. As a prince, he was taught well, she mused.

"Usually I would ask 'what brings you to our little ball of water and dirt?' but I think we can skip that part," The woman stated with a sheepish grin, idly flicking through the menu and curiously eyeing the items that were unfamiliar. The desire to try something new fought with the possibility of accidentally ordering something too far out - like snails or other things that rich people fancied, for some reason.

Loki's greens briefly appeared over the top of his menu, grateful and sparkling. "I think it's best if we do just that," For a second, he looked away, before returning to the menu. "I can think of better things to discuss. I recall you didn't finish telling me about that college friend of yours, who was an anarchist... I'm dying to know..."

The waiter came and went, barely noticed by the pair, as they both poked at something that sounded the most familiar for both of them. Stoically, Loki admitted that Tony Stark did the booking for him and the woman reluctantly acquitted she wasn't very familiar with upscale establishments, being of middle-class background and working a middle-class job.

Interrupting the story she began telling hours ago, the woman took the time to point out the things she was familiar with on the menu and advised Loki to stay away from - like the aforementioned snails, and other things, slimy and salty things that she considered to be 'disgusting but rich people liked it for some reason'. The conversation slowly progressed into Loki telling her the mischief he got up to at the feasts Odin threw. The Asgardian shared the woman's disregard for influential people doing gross things to show off.

The food was good - it was really hard to miss with a traditional Italian lasagna - and seeing Loki shovel an obscene amount of food was an experience, but she didn't comment on it, tactful enough to consider his alien biology might have different dietary requirements that her human one. It was great, really, that she could order dessert and not feel guilty about it.

The gelato melted in her mouth like sweet ecstasy and she moaned with her next bite, only partly aware of how obscene really was the noise.

Loki's hand stuttered on it's way to his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared at her lips, at her mouth, where her tongue lapped up the small drops of dessert from the spoon. "Why the split tongue?" The Asgardian finally gathered his wits, having had a good look of what he was sure was a trick of the eye at first.

She grinned, acutely aware of the effect that particular body modification had on men. "I like being different. I embrace the weird." She giggled, not at all ashamed, sticking out her tongue and wiggling both parts of it teasingly.

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed; "Weird?" He raised his eyebrow, fighting to maintain his previous cool composure.

She nodded. "Weird," She retorted coyly. "I usually don't divulge the details at least until the third date. Wouldn't want to scare my potential suitors off," The playful wink was the proverbial cherry on top. He was hooked, his eyes darkened, following the plump arch of her lips as she took another spoonful of the treat and savoured it, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It was pornographic.

"Obviously, Midgardians don't know what's good for them," Loki scoffed in his usual bored monotone, fully aware of how fitful his attempt to conceal his excitement was. He sounded needy even to his own ears.

"And you do?" She pushed away the empty plate, chastely patting her mouth with a napkin. The raised eyebrow and the little smirk spoke volumes.

The grin he wore was hardly anything but feral; he asked for the waiter's assistance by flicking his wrist in an impatient fashion. Once the bill was paid and the woman's cardigan found its rightful place on her shoulders, Loki once again took hold of her arm, this time holding her smaller body against his larger one, taking care to slow down and keep his strides shorter.

She found the coolness of his presence refreshing in the moist, heavy air of the New York city.

"Where to, milady?" Loki asked her, looking down at the woman fondly.

"My place is a block away. Walk me, good sir?" She gave a delightfully easy smile in return.

He nodded, letting her lead the way, allowing himself to get a little bit lost in their shared presence, a little bubble of them in the middle of a busy city. It was as if someone had quickly turned down the volume of the honking cars and noisy pedestrians around them, leaving the soft breeze and the sun slowly descending below the skyscrapers. It felt far too short, partaking in the comfortable silence together, skin tingling under the thin layers of cloth where they were touching.

The sun was trapped in the strands of her hair as she smiled at him from her doorway, worrying her lip between her teeth. It was a bittersweet moment.

"A kiss good night for the good sir?" She asked hopefully, eyes darting between his face and his mouth.

Loki obliged, resting his palm flat on the door frame, towering over the woman as he gently slotted his thin, cool lips against her warm ones. The woman stood on her tippy toes, eager, placing a hand on his chest. The pair melted into the kiss - it had no business being this mind-blowing, brain-freezing for two people that have not met until that very day. The woman didn't refuse when Loki probed with his tongue, requesting entrance to her mouth; she licked into his own with fervor, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of his sweater.

With the hand that was free, Loki pulled the woman flush with himself, feeling the heat of her start a fire of its own inside of him. Her breathing rapid, the gesture only served to tighten her hold on his sweater, until a soft, barely audible moan slipped into his mouth, causing his brain to quickly reassess the situation.

Regretfully, Loki pulled away, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," He meaningfully looked at the array of doors around them.

"I thought you'd never ask," She retorted with a fond eyeroll, tightening the grip on his sweater once more, to pull him inside her apartment and shut the door behind her. The awkward moments were few and in between; neither knew who reached for the other first, mashing their mouths with less grace than before, clutching at the other's arms and hips with hunger.

This time, Loki didn't hold back his own muted groans of satisfaction, shivering when the woman's hands snuck under his sweater and the simple tank top he wore underneath. Blunt nails scraped along his abs.

Step by step, she pushed him further inside her apartment, determined in her small quick strides. There was no mistake of their destination; no mistake in her desire: she was as hungry and as impatient as him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, long arms extending to unzip the top of her dress to reveal a simple but tasteful black lacy bra covering her breasts. The woman barely noticed the action, stepping out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor.

He admired her. Inches of soft skin covered by intricate ink, some patterns bizarre and complicated, some beautiful in their simplicity. Loki couldn't wait to find out about the meaning behind every one of them, to trace the lines with his tongue and sink his teeth into the heated flesh.

The hands that were holding onto him for dear life tugged on his sweater and he chose to simply vanish it, too preoccupied with looking at the view in front of him. She gasped and her eyes met his: uncanny, magnetic emeralds shone with magic and power and desire.

"Fuck," She more mouthed than said, walking backwards in a trance until her shins hit the bed.

Loki grinned, advancing on the panting woman with the grace of a predator. "Darling?" His tone was innocent; his expression was anything but. His large hand encompassesed the side of her face, thumb running over her bottom lip in a possessive gesture that had her squirming in her place. He loved the way she just melted into his touch.

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was once again graceful and unrushed, allowing them to explore the softness of each other's skin, mapping the arches and valleys with gentle strokes of their palms. The broad expanse of Loki's back was uneven, riddled with scars and blemishes, and she mapped every single one, blunt nails raking down it as she pressed into him, arching into his hands where he held her.

The soft flesh of her ass, barely covered by a scrap of black lace, was shamelessly grabbed - the woman didn't doubt there would be marks left - letting her feel his arousal pressed against her belly, hard and twitching. She didn't resist her desire to ge handsy and palmed it, taking note of the gasp and the twitch coming from the man occupied with the clasp of her bra. In no time, it flew away, forgotten somwhere the very moment Loki's palms took over her breasts, running a careful thumb over each nipple.

"Fuck," She parroted her previous statement, equally breathy and considerably more aroused.

"That's the plan," Loki's chuckle was hoarse.

She huffed, biting her bottom lip before reaching out to swiftly pop the button of his trousers, smirking at the hiss the friction of her palm produced against his cock. It shouldn't have surprised her that Loki was a commando kind of guy, but still, she gasped, partially from the ministrations of his clever fingers, partially from the mouthwatering sight in front of her. The thick, flushed length made saliva gather in the corners of her mouth.

He must've heard the audible swallow. "Not so haste, darling," He tutted, giving her relaxed body a gentle push, causing her to land on her back, heated skin against the soft duvet of her bed. "Let me taste you," A thud; Loki had dropped to his knees, using his large palms to spread her legs, opening her up to his eyes.

If his previous work hadn't made her so pliant, so aroused, she'd have been rendered speechless; instead, the woman arched her back, presenting herself and the desire that had pooled down below. The Asgardian chuckled, fingertips soft against the scratchy lace.

"Tease," The woman moaned, outstretching her arm to guide him but quite unable to reach him. She had to settle for squirming in her place, receiving a fraction of the desired traction against her swollen lips.

"Am I, love?" Loki asked her sweetly, caving enough to dip a single finger to run along the outside of her slit. It glided easily thanks to all the moisture gathered there, lips parting easily before his touch. The panties were vanished away promptly, another finger joining in immediately to rub slow, precise circles around her clit.

She keened low and long, fisting the fabric in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Loki knew what he was doing. It didn't take him very long to slide his long digits to the welcoming heat of her opening, dipping them inside until she began to make the noises he so craved. His mouth followed after that, long agile tongue drawing senseless shapes on the inside of her labia and dipping deeper, where her clit stood out engorged and slick.

He could smell the bittersweet of her arousal, mouthwatering and hot.

"Loki, fuck," She moaned, only half-coherent and partially aware of her own hips following his every stroke, every flick. He only advanced, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every stroke; the sparks traveling up her spine quickened with each time she changed his name like a prayer. "Loki, Loki, Loki..."

He growled, attaching his mouth firmly to her clit, and she arched for the final time, coming undone, squeezing around his fingers and gushing in his mouth, the obscene sounds covered by her own scream of delight and his impatient growling. The growling that sent shivers of aftershocks throughout her body.

"Darling, you taste so sweet," Loki groaned, still panting.

She took the time to open her eyes: Loki looked comically out of place in her bedroom, he dwarfed her bed and made her feel small, but it didn't matter at all at that very moment. His erection stood out hard and proud; despite the leg-shaking orgasm just moments ago, she wanted more, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to feel him inside-

With unsurprising agility, one swift motion was all it took for her to rest comfortably against the pillows, his throbbing member resting against the juncture of her thigh. She tasted her own release on his lips, however brief, whispering a weak, "Please," aching to feel the emptiness.

"As my lady wishes," Loki's cool breath ghosted over her cheek. She waited with baited breath until the tip of his manhood breached her, exhaling a moan into his neck and immediately wrapping her lips around a patch of skin as he stretched her so sweet.

Loki's arms shook slightly as he waited for her to adjust. He kissed her, soft and sweet; there was something vulnerable in him, something as sweet as the ache he'd taken away. Once he began to move, slow and fluid, all there was left was an all-consuming need to feel. As graceful as dancer and with a deadly precision, Loki pounded gasps, moans and screams out of the woman's slack mouth, kisses turning hungrier and sloppier by the second.

"So sweet," He cooed, relishing in the snug grip of her cunt around him.

She only keened in approval, too far gone and unused to the intensity of the feelings from a man with centuries of practice and the power of a god.

His thrusts slowed gradually until he was rutting into her, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit. The gasps and screams turned into drawn-out, longing moans; her hips followed his, meeting in a slow, sensual motion.

Loki was not a patient man. He withdrew - she gasped in protest - flipping the woman over on her fours with ease, taking but a split second to admire the curve of her body presented on display for him. Just for him.

With that thought burning in his mind, Loki sheathed his cock deeply inside her spasming cunt. It was nearly unbearably stimulating and only his own desire to prolong the bliss held back his own impending orgasm. That, and his own ego; he was naught if not a generous lover.

She slurred something, quiet and incorrigible, fucking back onto his cock as eagerly as he was plunging into her heat. The hand he'd placed on her shoulder promptly wrapped around her throat in hopes of lifting her close enough for him to hear the words but instead, it sent a full-bodied shiver throughout her. Loki grinned, tugging her that much closer.

The arch in her back looked quite uncomfortable yet she didn't mind; it was the exact opposite, in fact, her cunt tightened around him, drenching his shaft down to his balls. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his thigh, the sting of pain going straight to his cock-

"Loki, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" She slurred, gasping for air.

He weakened his hold on her throat enough to let her gulp the so-needed oxygen. It was her undoing: was it the rapid pace of oxygenated blood traveling to her brain or was it his cock, mercilessly pounding against her g-spot - she was violently spasming around his cock, much like she did around his fingers not too long ago.

It felt like ages, her crescendo coming in waves with no signs of stopping any time soon. Loki's continuous thrusts, his hips slamming into hers, her skin feeling like molten lava.

"Gonna fill your sweet cunt with my seed," Loki moaned lowly, holding her up by the throat, the other hand leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the outside of her hips. "Mark you from the inside out," His voice had gone into primal territory, growling filling up the room.

"Please..." The woman rasped, oversensitive.

And he pleased, with a series of sharp thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt in her, the force of his release making her shudder and moan once against, going limp in his arms. Loki kept her in her place until every drop was inside of her cunt. Nothing was sweeter than that.

The Asgardian didn't bother with getting under the covers to hold her, conjuring a soft, comfortable throw in modest green, to cover their nudity. He didn't need the extra warmth but his companion was by far more fragile and sensitive to these things- Loki's fingertips traced the array of bruises he'd left in the wake of their passion, expression surprised as he found the woman smiling.

"Feels nice," She supplied meekly, eyes half-lidded, face trusting and open towards him.

He gave a small grin in return, placing a chaste kiss atop her head. "Yes, it does, darling."

Time after time, she didn't expect much out if their date. The sex was nice, nice enough for both of them to want seconds and thirds after their rushed first time - but it wasn't like she expected him to hand around. It was a pleasant change from the usual mutual ghosting she'd done with her previous partners, but Loki had texted again and they had resumed their conversation via text like nothing had happened.

No, that would be incorrect. Now, she had a wonderful friend who was a great conversationalist and an even better lover. There was no pressure to put a label on their relationship so the woman didn't bother with it; it didn't seem like Loki cared about the label, either, so she left the topic alone and enjoyed things the way they were. It wasn't like she had a line of suitors anyway.

She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face when she unlocked her phone and saw a video call request from other than Loki himself. She still had thirty minutes worth of lunch break to waste and this was a wonderful time to chat with a friend.

"Stark, hand it back or I swear to Norns-" Loki's voice sounded agitated and far away, accompanied by sounds of a struggle; the bearded, smug face on the screen was not who she expected at all. Only years of customer service and low bullshit tolerance combined stopped her from freaking out seeing none other than Tony Stark smirking at her from the screen of her phone.

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow, taking note of the anger of Loki's tone.

"Hi, I don't think I need to introduce myself," Stark babbled, eyeing her - disheveled and with a wall full of sticky notes and miscellaneous items acting as the background to her video. "Reindeer games refused to show you to us so we decided to persuade him," Tony's grin grew wider, muted whispers being rapidly exchanged in the background all the while Loki screeched "BROTHER!" and various expletives at the top of his lungs.

"You could've, I dunno," She paused, unimpressed. "Asked me to dinner, like a normal person. Instead of stealing, you know, like a thief," The eyeroll that she performed had the team worried her eyes would fall out of their sockets.

"I merely borrowed his phone, don't be dramatic," Stark huffed, and for a moment, she could see various other people trying to look at the screen and by extension, at her. "So, what is it that you do? Because Smurf over there wouldn't..."

"Oops, bad signal. Sorry, can't hear you properly," Her side of the call suddenly shook and in a moment, she ended the call, not at all willing to deal with people that lacked boundaries. Sure, it might have been Iron Man, but if he was planning on being a snooping asshole, she wasn't gonna go down with that easily.

Exactly five minutes after she had clocked out, an incoming call from Loki had her equal parts excited and mortified. What if..? But he was apologetic. And very angry, swearing in his native language - something that he'd promised to teach her at some point.

"So, Clint did it?" She sipped her beverage, strolling home with the phone pressed snugly against her ear.

"Most of it was his fault, yes," Loki grouched on the other end of the call.

"I vote we get back at him. Invite me over, if he's so inclined to see me, and watch him get humiliated in front of everybody," It wasn't a secret she had her own mischievous tendencies.

"As much as I appreciate your vigour, darling, I doubt the Widow will appreciate you verbally castrating the Hawk in public," He replied sourly, his voice still betraying the faint notes of interest.

"I have a backup plan!" She stated without a hitch. "He'll embarrass himself and I'll be your alibi."

"I'm listening," Loki perked up immediately.

They decided to not to stall and schedule the 'family dinner', as Thor himself dubbed it, for the next available weekend. Loki had made sure Tony's AI had been made aware the trickster would be gone all day, and it took him very little magic and effort to pop in and out of the tower for the five minutes that were needed to execute their prank.

His friend barely managed to keep the snickering at bay as they ascended the elevator to the common floor where the dinner was being held. Not only that, but the woman spouted an area of dark purple love marks, barely obscured by the low turtleneck of her blouse.

She made her introductions and they made theirs. "This affair could use some background noise," She remarked off-handedly, casting a meaningful glance at the TV.

Tony Stark was known for being a great host so he entertained her wishes, flicking on the huge flat screen with a flick of his wrist.

The team froze.

"I... -" The woman stared at the screen, mouth hanging wide open at the scenes that played out. "... am not going to kinkshame, but please turn it off," She stated in a small voice, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of tentacles commencing erotic assault on a woman's body.

Wordlessly, the TV shut down, immersing the room in stunned silence. Loki face-palmed, the slap of his palm against his face echoing in the eerily quiet room.

"Loki!" Captain America, red as a tomato, instantly accused the most obvious person.

Except, he had forgotten one thing. "Loki was with me all day," The woman replied, unkindly. "Do you need more proof?" She tugged on the hem of her turtleneck, exposing an inch of skin marked blue.

The good Captain's face changed the shade once again, venturing very well into beetroot territory. "Who was the last one to use the TV?" Rogers asked, now with a hint of anger, as he stared at a guffawing Bucky.

"I believe it was Mr. Barton," The AI piped up, mechanical voice sounding almost insinuating. Or, perhaps, it just appeared that way.

#loki x reader #Loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston #it's 4am y'all #we be THIRSTY

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Seeing You | Robert Fischer x Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: Dream

Fandom: Inception

Words: 1354

A/N: Been meaning to write some stuff for some of Cillian Murphy’s characters and had rewatched Inception. I started to think what else that technology could be used for, and this fic came about. I rewrote it twice because I make things complicated on myself and the final result is always the easiest to write.

The mind is a complicated maze and there are many that make it a profession to navigate through them. A few, however, go deeper than that. While others interpret and study the mind, thoughts and ideas could also be extracted or planted.

You knew you were in a dream. You were standing at the George Washington bridge, leaning against the railing and watching people come and go. It was a place you went to often as a student when you wanted to think. But, you knew you weren’t physically in New York. You were in a hotel room in London where you had to attend a business meeting.

The last couple of months had been stressful, but hopefully, with the new deal, it would all be worth it. You breathed in deeply, the smell of salt and exhaust would have been filling your nostrils. As you exhaled, you turned to walk back to your old apartment.

Your feet carried you to a familiar part of the neighborhood and you felt a bittersweet taste in your mouth at the sight of it. The mom-and-pop businesses, people jogging, students walking home from school, the art running along the wall. You missed this place.

Once you had gone up to your apartment floor, you saw a familiar figure. Tall and lean man with neatly styled hair and a tailored suit.

“Robert?” you said in surprise. Why was he here?

He turned, those haunting blue eyes greeting you as he smiled. “(Y/n), I was hoping to catch you,” he said.

“Why are you suddenly here?” You walked around him, keys at the ready to open the door.

“You must be thinking of me,” he joked, “Or how else would I be here?”

“I don’t know.”

You opened your apartment door, cautiously letting him in. Since it was your dream, you could always manipulate a few things if it gets out of control. Until then…

“Now, why would I be thinking of you?” you wondered out loud, plopping down in an armchair.

Robert shrugged. “You must’ve missed me.”

“I don’t,” you answered sharply.

He looked around your apartment and sat himself on the couch near you, leaning back as if he owned the place. Your eyes scanned his form, wondering why he had showed up. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, back when he was trying to follow his father’s footsteps. So much had happened since then.

“So, what have you been up to lately?” he asked casually.

You crossed your arms. “You know what it is already.”

Robert huffed out a laugh at your stubbornness. “Humor me, (Y/n/n).”

“You used to hate it when I do. Nothing was funny to mister Robert Fischer, successor of daddy Fischer’s company,” you said sarcastically. “Nothing was right. Nothing was easy. Nothing was ever enough.”

He sighed in defeat, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I’m sorry. There were things I’ve said that I shouldn’t have said. I was angry and stressed and it clouded my thinking. I’m sorry, (Y/n), and you were right to leave me.”

You felt your heart squeezed at his words. It was what you had always wanted to hear from him all these years. After you broke up, you had not spoken to him ever again. You moved away and started your own business that had been gradually thriving.

He stood up, shrugging off his suit jacket and walked over to one of your many bookshelves where you had a couple of picture frames placed. Graduation pictures, birthday polaroids, and a few framed certifications and achievements on the wall next to them.

“I’ve been reading about your business in the news. I’m happy for you,” he said with a genuine smile, pointing at the picture that you took with the starting crew of your business.

“Thank you.”

He moved on to the books that filled the rest of the shelves, running a slender finger over the spines and stopping at the small photo albums. You quickly stood up as he pulled one out that you were sure he was familiar with. He flipped it open and was greeted with a picture of the two of you from college at a bar with your friends doing a pub quiz. He smiled, taking his time at looking at each and every photo that you had foolishly kept. This physical one was still in a storage bin, but it didn’t mean that it no longer existed.

“I miss you,” he whispered, blue eyes flicking towards you as you walked up to him.

You crossed your arms again. “You never called,” you said softly, and hating yourself because of it. Now was not the time to feel small.

He slid the photo album back and turned his body to face you. His eyes roamed your face, as if trying to memorize it, hands slowly rising to grab your arms. Then, he slowly led you towards the middle of the living room, leaving your side to fiddle with the record player that he remembered he had gifted you for your birthday.

Billie Holiday’s voice filled the room as Robert walked back to you, and offered you a hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, looking away so he wouldn’t see you smile, but it was too late. You relented, taking his hand and allowing him to gather you in his arms. He began to sway with the music, resting his head against yours.

“I miss you so much,” he muttered again into your shoulder.

You sighed, wrapping your arms tightly around him. “I miss you, too. I hate that I do, but I can’t stay mad at you for this long.”

The two of you stayed like that until the song finished. Then, Robert pulled back, holding your face in his hands.

“Come back with me,” he said.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Wake up,” he said firmly, “Please. Wake up.”

You blinked in confusion. Suddenly, there were flashes of the streets of London. You had gone to have a quick walk to think when it started to rain heavily. The roads were instantly flooded, cars splashing water onto the sidewalks as they drove past.

Non, je ne regrette rien started to play, echoing around the room and seemingly not having any source. Robert looked around, eyes widened in panic.

“Please, come back with me,” he pleaded.

A car turned a corner near you and lost control.

“I… okay. But I don’t understand-” you said as the music grew louder.

You had been frozen in place as the car skidded onto the sidewalk, then…

Darkness.

Robert closed his eyes and you did the same, forcing yourself to wake up.

Non, je ne regrette rien was playing softly as you woke up. Your body felt heavy and your limbs were too stiff to move. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the light as you looked around. White walls, white curtains, white blankets, white bed with metal railings, an IV drip in your arm and a cast on your leg. You were in the hospital.

You heard someone sigh in relief next to you. The music stopped and a thin man with dark hair came into view. The person that was next to you walked up to him and shook his hand.

“Thank you,” he said to the man.

“No problem, Fischer,” the man said. “About time we use this stuff for good.”

“Robert?” you strained to say with your dry throat.

He whipped his head around, showing his disheveled hair and bags under his blue eyes. The man looked between you two and offered a small smile, packing his things and left without a word. Robert rushed to your side, gently picking up your hand as if it might shatter with too much force.

“What happened?” you asked. “How did I-”

Robert shushed you, pressing the button above to call in a nurse. “I’ll explain later, love. You’re back now,” he said, slowly standing up.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t. I’ll be nearby. I promise.”

#WritersMonth2020 #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #inception imagine #oneshot #cillian murphy imagine

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stickyhoney · 4 years

Text

Title: Fugitives

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You have fled with the war criminal Steve Rogers, known as Captain America, to a small village in the north of France. After months of hiding, tensions and feelings have peaked.

A/N: This will be my first multi-chapter work, so be patient with me please. Also seeing all your comments and messages makes me so happy, so keep them coming ;)

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Adult Language, Sexual Tension, fluff

Chapter One:

“Would you give it a rest already?!” The wooden door cracked against the hinges after your strong push. The echoes of the door hitting against the wall reverberated strongly throughout the small cottage that the two of you had called home for the past 3 months. Steve was strict on not using the word “home” however, even though America had turned its back on him, he could never call another country home.

“How many times have I told you?! We can’t talk to the locals!” His voice boomed against the confines of the kitchen. You could feel the vibrations of his steps under your feet. His stomps rivaled an elephant’s when he was angry.“You get to talk to the men in the village everyday! All I did was introduce myself to the women in the square.” Your tone leveled out by the end of your defense. You remembered you shouldn't have to defend your actions.

You were both knocking your boots off onto the floor, leaving dirt all around the doormat. Old hardened clumps of clay remained from workdays past, blades of grass from the garden out back. Steve hung his dark ballcap on the hook by the door, with a sharp snapping motion. “Do you think I choose to spend my time out there with those men? I do that to make sure we survive. Those are purely professional relationships, they know nothing of me other than my ability to split wood with my hands.”

Flashbacks back to Clint’s family farm make your heart warm for a brief moment. The sound of his children squealing with joy, calling you auntie, haunted your memories. You let your hair down, shaking it until it falls to your shoulders. “Why can’t I work in the village like you do? Steve… I haven’t spoken to anyone other than you for months. I can’t keep on this way.” Your mind and heart were exhausted from these past months. You had left everything you had ever known behind, and adopted the moniker of “war criminal”. The feeling of isolation had been beating the both of you down, Steve was just better at coping.

“You act like you have a choice.” His voice was flat, his tone cold. Sometimes it startled you how much Steve had changed, he was nowhere near the sweetheart he once was. He was now a rugged, hardened, survivor. The long sigh you let out signaled defeat, at least for tonight.

Dinner was the only time you could convince Steve to relax. It had been your secret mission to give you two a piece of home through food, even if you didn’t always know what you were doing. Tonight was spaghetti night, Steve’s favorite. Gathering ingredients in the garden had become an unspoken tradition between you. It was all so domestic, picking tomatoes from the vines and clipping parsley from the herb garden in the kitchen window. Your small garden and patio had become your haven from the daunting trials of your new normal.

The wooden spoon dragged through the thick marinara sauce you had made, causing whirls of hot steam to rise up to your nostrils. The comforting aroma filled the cramped cottage, every nook and cranny had been permeated with tomato and parsley. Behind you, feet dragged on the tiles towards you. “Huh, smells pretty good.” Your lips pull up into a faint smile, a giggle rises from your chest. “You sound surprised.” You turned around with the large pot of sauce to find Steve within a foot of you, causing your hands to release the pot. Steve’s arms quickly react and catch the pot inches from the ground, small drops of sauce splashing out onto the tiles. “God Steve! You can’t sneak up on me like that!” You drop down onto your knees with a towel to clean up the mess, somewhat embarrassed at your jumpiness. Ever since that night… it had been getting worse.

“I can’t fucking help you get scared so easy!” You rose back up to him, trying to keep your embarrassment hidden. “I’m sorry, I- I can’t help it.” You tried to sound strong, but your words came out timid and meek. Steve’s eyes softened after realizing what he had said, realization hitting his features. Pity was never something you wanted from anyone, especially him. “[y/n]...” His hand reaches for your elbow, in a sympathetic gesture. Tears began to well up, your face was reddening, so you moved your body away from his. Acting like everything was normal when nothing was, it was a lifestyle for the both of you. Dinner went by normally, with only a few words said, most of which were grunts of satiated hunger.

“Ice cream?” Your eyebrow kicked up inquisitively, even though you already knew the answer. Steve was a sucker for ice cream, especially this certain kind you picked up from a vendor in the village. It was made from the woman's fresh blueberry patch. You made sure to keep a carton in the freezer. Steve places a hand over his non-existent food baby, and grunts. “You know I do.”

You struggle to stand after downing three full plates of spaghetti and two bowls of salad. “I’ve never seen a woman eat as much as you do. It’s unnatural.” You sat the carton down on the counter, and began to take bowls out. “Did you see Nat eat? She could eat a house full of food in one go.” You were giggling through the last few words until you looked back, a cold Steve with a deadpan expression. He always goes blank when the past comes into conversation.

“We’ve gotta let the ice cream thaw…” You skated across the tile floors in your socks, towards the living room. You wanted to get his mind off things, he had been a jerk lately. Even when Steve Rogers was mad at the world, he had never been so coarse with you. There was one thing you knew that Steve loved… even if it was a hundred years ago.

Your fingers picked up the needle and lifted it across and down onto the black vinyl record. The cottage came with an old vinyl record player, it was hidden under an old white sheet in the corner of the living room. Steve never paid it any mind since it had been broken, but you had secretly been fixing it for the past month. The faint buzz of the needle connecting to the moving record reverberated through the silent house.

“Strangers in the night,

Exchanging glances

Wandering the night,

What were the chances

We'd be sharing love

Before the night was through”

Frank Sinatra’s sultry voice carried you back into the kitchen. When you entered Steve had stood up and stood so rigid, that he reminded you of a soldier standing at attention. “What’s that look for?” You had bent over in pain from trying to contain your laughter. He looked as if his commander walked into the room. “What are you doing playing that music?” You knew he loved Sinatra, probably because it transported him to a simpler time when he knew all the answers. Get the bad guys, defend your country, get the girl.

You stood back up, jokingly going expressionless, and standing more rigid than a wooden board. “Well soldier, I was anticipating doing some dancing.” You tapped the back of your heels together and stuck your arm out towards him as an invitation.

“Something in your eyes

Was so inviting

Something in your smile

Was so exciting

Something in my heart

Told me I must have you”

“I don’t dance [y/n]. You know that.” His body began to decompress, the tensity of his limbs dissipating, his eyes lowering. You purse your lips into a playful pout, and place your palms out as if you were a beggar. “C’mon, make a girl happy. I’m sure you’ve got some move in you.” Steve breathed out a long sigh, and ran his hand back through his long dirty blonde hair. “C’mon, I promise I won’t bite…”

You step in closer to him, your hands reaching for his wrists. He meets you halfway, stepping towards you. “I might be rusty.” Your left hand guides his around your waist while the right holds his out beside you upright. You chuckle under your breath knowing he was lying, he took charge and led the dance.

“Strangers in the night

Two lonely people

We were strangers in the night

Up to the moment

When we said our first hello

Little did we know

Love was just a glance away

A warm embracing dance away”

After a few moments, you laid your head on his chest. The coarse material scratched against your cheek, but was soothed by the heat this man was radiating. He was like a damn furnace. His hands were worn from the daily manual labor that kept a roof over your head. Steve began humming along to the chorus, his deep vibrato sending vibrations through his chest. You couldn’t help but bask in his scent. His must and leather jacket mixed for a lovely combination, one that had become ingrained in your being. You knew he didn’t like using the word home, but he had become yours.

Your free hand wrapped around his back pulling him in closer, your thumb tracing circles. It was the untold promise between you, keep things friendly. The promise was becoming harder and harder to keep, but the both of you knew why it was important to keep. Silence passed between you for a few minutes. "Thank you for this [y/n]."

The vinyl record fades into silence, the only thing the two of you were swaying to was the sound of the wind whistling through the weeping willows branches out front. "Oh the ice cream!" You jump out of his embrace and run towards the carton on the counter, the blueberry ice cream had turned to a thin consistency. "Noooo whyyyyyy" you cried out as dramatically as you could. You turned back to see that Steve was gone, and heard his bedroom door shut quietly across the house.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #nomad steve #steverogers #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #rpf #marvel

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sighmurderbot · 4 years

Text

Irish Coffee Chapter One

Title: Mocha, Extra Sugar

Chapter Rating/Warnings: T for profanity, no other warnings

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!

next chapter

“A 'first meeting' is, by definition, a one-time opportunity, and there's no going back.”

Cup, counter, look up, smile, call out drink, next customer.

“One cafe latte!”

I looked up with a bright smile even though my feet were aching in my non-slip shoes. Thankfully it was near the end of the afternoon rush, and I should be able to go on break after finishing with the last customer in line.

The businessman in front of me hadn’t stopped talking on his bluetooth the entire time he was here, which made it annoyingly difficult to take his order. Without looking, he grabbed at his coffee. His hand glanced off the cup and I watched it topple in slow motion. The lid flew off and hot coffee sprayed over the whole counter.

Both the businessman and I jumped back, avoiding the scalding liquid.

“Ah, shit — one second Dave,” the man scowled. “What the hell?”

I fixed a smile on my face.

“I’m so sorry about that, sir, let me make you another.”

“No, no,” he looked at his watch and his scowl deepened. “Forget about it. I won’t be coming back!”

Oh no, whatever will we do without your business, I thought sarcastically, maintaining a perfectly happy expression.

With that he turned and hurried out the door, jostling the man waiting behind him. I crouched to grab a towel and somewhere above me he said something, but the words blended with the music floating through the shop.

“What did you say?” I asked as I looked up, hoping I’d be able to discern what he said. I couldn’t help but smile as my breath caught in my throat. The man standing at my counter must not have been too much older than me. His hair was long enough to brush past the nape of his neck but he had the soft brown curls tucked neatly behind his ears. He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wore a cardigan over a dress shirt and tie, and a brown crossbody bag gave his hands something to fiddle with.

“Ah, I just said he wasn’t having a very good day,” he said, blinking a few times as his eyes slipped over the counter. He seemed to notice everything at once, and I hoped he didn’t think anything of the way my gaze flicked to his lips as he spoke before I met his eyes again. He had a cute cupid’s bow, and as someone who sees a lot of lips I feel qualified in saying they were nice lips.

I used the counter to help me to my feet and began to mop up the coffee.

“Apparently not,” I said, taking care to not accidentally push any coffee towards the customer. “Sorry about that, what can I get you, sir?”

I paused and looked up while he spoke, leaning on my lip reading as the music muddied his voice. “A large mocha please,” he said, shifting a little as if he were nervous. “And could you stir some extra sugar into it while it’s hot? The, uh, the extra heat helps the sugar dissolve so there’s no little granules at the bottom.”

Huh, I didn’t know that.

“Sure thing, sugar,” I replied with a bright smile, happy to learn something new and relieved to have a pleasant customer after an hour of government drones rushing in and out as fast as possible. I turned and began the drink, glancing back as I waited for the milk to heat. The man had ducked his head, reading a slim book while he waited. His free finger ran down the page and he muttered to himself as he flipped page after page.

He probably read a whole chapter in the time it took me to make his drink!

I couldn’t help but let my admiration show a little as I set said drink in front of him.

“One mocha, extra sugar,” I said as he looked up. I leaned my elbows on the counter.

“Whatchya reading?”

He blinked a few times, glancing down at the book as if he had forgotten he was holding it.

“Oh, uh, it’s Sygdommen til Døden, it’s a book of Christian existentialism by Søren Kierkegaard. It presents the question that death isn’t the end, and true death is spiritual, not physical,” he rattled off in an instant. I stumbled over a few of the foreign words, but I was able to put the sentence together with context.

The man stopped speaking just as quickly, a light pink spreading over his cheeks as he ducked his head. Leaning over the counter, I stole a peek at the pages he had been tearing through.

“Kierkegaard, in the original Danish too! Impressive,” I said, returning to my side of the counter. “Are you a philosophy student?”

He nodded, almost unsurely. “Yeah, I’m working on my BA now.”

I grinned at him. A fellow academic, I could appreciate a kindred spirit.

“I haven’t made it to Kierkegaard yet,” I admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “Still working through Plato and Hegel.”

He seemed to perk up a little, eyes sparkling. “They’re good!” he exclaimed. “Hegel’s theory of dialectics strongly influenced the work of Karl Marx. Because Hegel claimed that reality should be examined by a series of logical and rational arguments, Marx created the theory we now know as historical materialism,” he caught himself and the pink on his cheeks deepend to red. “...sorry, I ramble sometimes. Are you a philosophy student as well...” he glanced at the nametag pinned to my apron, “Katie?”

I pursed my lips in what I hoped passed for a smile and not a pained grimace, avoiding his eyes to wipe a few stray drops of coffee away. This man’s gaze made me feel like he could see everything about me with just a glance, but it helped that his soft brown eyes held no malice that I could see. That and the fact that he seemed more nervous around me than anything.

“Nope!” I forced some cheerfulness into my voice. “Not yet, at least.”

He opened his mouth a little, as if he was about to reply, when his attention was suddenly drawn away. Shifting his book he pulled a phone out of his pocket, flipped it up, and answered.

“Reid,” he said. I turned the name around in my mind. I wondered how he spelled it, ei or ee.

He pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear, stuffing Sygdommen til Døden into his bag and picking up his coffee.

Sorry he mouthed to me, and he did look apologetic. Hoping he knew not to worry about it I gave him a big smile and watched as he hurried out the door, returning the phone to his hand and striding off down the sidewalk. I let out a wistful sigh and grabbed a cleaning spray and paper towels to go over the counter again. If only everyone who came through this coffee shop’s doors was as interesting and pleasant as that Reid.

And as easy on the eyes, I thought, biting my lip to hold back a girlish giggle.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite the counter. Just a few more hours until closing, then a quick bus ride to the diner. Everyone in the cafe was taken care of, so I gave myself a few minutes to get off my feet.

Pulling my phone out of my apron pocket I opened my bank account.

Starting to pull ahead, I thought with a tired relief. I wouldn’t be quitting any time soon, but my savings account was finally starting to look a little healthier. I closed out of the app and stared at my background.

It was a picture of my mother and I. I couldn’t have been older than 6 or 7, and I was wearing the biggest smile a little kid could manage. My mother was holding my hand, her smile matching mine. Behind us rose the stairs and columns of the National Gallery in London. I traced my mother’s face for a moment, then shut my phone off and slipped it back into my pocket.

The hands of the clock moved slowly for the rest of my shift. People drifted in and out, none staying longer than a few moments. The sun fell behind DC’s towering skyline, and as the sunlight disappeared it felt like my energy went with it. By the time the last customer waved goodbye and I wiped the last table down the room was swaying around me. I glanced at my watch.

Ten hours since breakfast, medication is beginning to wear off.

I slid out a seat and took a few deep breaths. My stomach wasn’t pleased but it settled after a minute off my feet. Once the room was steady again I stood and finished closing the shop. As the lock clicked into place behind me I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It felt like being battered by ocean waves.

My feet carried me to the street corner and I slumped against the sign indicating the bus stop.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, I thought, stifling a yawn.

The bus pulled up and stopped with a screech of brakes that instantly had me clinging to the signpost in pain. The cold, dirty metal cutting into my hand had nothing on the high-pitched scream that bounced around my head, multiplying and hitting the inside of my skull harder and harder. Biting my tongue to stop from crying out, I pushed off the sign and stumbled onto the bus. Over the ringing in my ears I heard a muffled voice saying something. It was as if the voice was speaking to me underwater.

“I-I’m sorry…” I stuttered, forcing myself to breathe. Hands shaking, I fumbled through my bag and pulled out my wallet, finding my bus card. I shoved it in the direction of the driver, who only gave it a cursory glance and waved it away.

“--- --- --kay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few more deep breaths, the painful ringing dying down to an aching headache, and looked up at the driver. Somehow I had ended up slumped on the floor by the door. The old bus driver was leaning over me, concern etched in the deep wrinkles across his face.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Connie,” I said, tripping over myself to apologize and get up off the filthy floor.

“Hey, that’s alright Katie,” he replied kindly, offering me a hand which I gratefully accepted. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” I sighed deeply, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “It was-”

“The breaks, right?”

“Yup.” I popped my ‘p’, shaking my head sadly as I returned my bus card to my wallet. “Still figuring out how to manage it all.”

“You’ll get there,” he replied, setting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I gave him a weak smile and moved to a seat while he closed the door and released the breaks, pulling out into the road. There weren’t many people on the bus, all the commuters had gone home already in an attempt to beat the very traffic they created. The only people left in DC as stars began to blink to life in the sky were those who called the city home.

As the bus rumbled away around me I let myself slump into the seat, chin dropping to my chest and eyelids closing. Before I knew it I had slipped into a shallow sleep.

—

A gentle hand pushing my shoulder roused me and I started awake to see Connie’s face once again.

“Hey kiddo, you fell asleep,” he said. I stretched out my cramped muscles.

“Thanks for waking me up,” I replied. “I owe you.”

He shook his head with a smile.

“Just get me one of those coffees you make and we’ll be even.”

I nodded.

“You got it.”

Connie slid back into his seat and gave me a two-fingered salute, which I returned as I disembarked. Then the bus pulled away and left nothing but the crisp fall breeze, scented with exhaust and that peculiar smell every big city has. Adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder, I walked the half-block to a neon-rimmed 24/7 diner.

A few moments later I stepped into the syrup-steeped diner.

“Katie! Boy am I glad to see you.” A woman a bit older than me bustled out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with plates piled with pancakes.

“Right back atchya Liz!” I grinned, my exhaustion temporarily lessened at the appearance of a friend.

“Busy night?” I asked when we had both made it to the back room.

“Very,” Liz exhaled, pushing a few strands of silky black hair away from her face. “It’s started to calm down a little now, mostly just regulars and some college students from the U.”

“That shouldn’t be too bad then,” I replied, slowly standing and stretching my arms above my head. “I’d better get out there.”

Liz shook her head with a smirk. “Girl, you work too hard.”

I gave her a tired grin. “Without labor, nothing prospers.”

She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly.

“This another one of your old philosophy dudes?”

“Nah, this one’s an old playwright dude.”

“You and your old dudes, when are you gonna take interest in a guy from this century?”

My thoughts flickered to the cute guy from the coffee shop, with his beautiful curls and Danish Kierkegaard book, but it was my turn to shake my head.

“Why bother?” I joked. “Who’d take interest in me anyways? Not like I have time for anyone.”

“Without labor, nothing prospers,” Liz repeated back to me.

I touched my nose and pointed to her.

“Damn right.”

“Alright, alright,” she conceded. “Let’s get our labor on.”

With Liz by my side the first hour of my shift passed quickly, but then ten o’clock came and she bid me goodbye, filtering out with the rest of the regulars. Before long it was just the college kids gathered at two tables in the back corner, heads bent over textbooks and notes. As long as I kept the coffee and snacks coming they were happy and quiet, which was fine by me.

Around 2 am one of the students came up to the counter, asking for more fruit.

“What’re you guys studying?” I asked as I handed over the pre-prepared fruit cup and accepted her cash.

“Architecture,” she replied, and her attempt at a smile looked almost as tired as I felt.

“Keep at it,” I said, slipping another fruit cup to her with a wink. She nodded gratefully and returned to the tables, passing the extra fruit to the boy next to her.

Finally the clock ticked over to 3 am and my replacement arrived. There was little more I could do than give him a tired wave as I gathered my things and wrapped up in an old coat, preparing myself for the cold night.

Thank goodness my apartment is only a few blocks away, I thought, taking a bracing lungful of air. It was a path I was familiar with after two years of walking it almost every night, and a good thing too, because I was half asleep on my feet. I don’t even remember most of the walk, dozing as I was, and by the time I got to my blue apartment door it was all I could do to get my key in the lock and inside. Locking the door behind me I let my purse slip to the floor and took the five steps to my bed, collapsing on top of the blankets. With my last ounce of energy I fished my hearing aid out of my ear, setting it carefully on my bedside table.

“I did it, mom,” I mumbled into my pillow, fingertips brushing the silver photo frame beside my hearing aid.

“Another day done.”

And with that, I slipped into a deep sleep.

Hours later my alarm rang. I woke up, never feeling rested enough but determined to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I felt grimy after falling asleep in my work clothes, so I treated myself to a long shower, luxuriating in the steam billowing up around me. After I scrubbed myself clean I spent a few extra minutes soaking in the hot water. My aching muscles relaxed a little and I felt a bit better when I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. After drying and dressing I slipped my hearing aid in and squared my shoulder, ready to face the day.

And so time went on. It was three days before I saw Reid again.

#Irish Coffee #my writing #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer #reid #dr reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x oc

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heycoyotegirl · 4 years

Text

Safe to Shore

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252283 Relationships: Paxton Hall-Yoshida/Devi Vishwakumar Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Panic Attacks, paxton is a soft boy and i will die on this hill, no beta we die like non-honors students, Mutual Pining Summary: Devi has a panic attack after falling into the pool. Paxton helps her through it. A/N: This is my first NHIE fic, so let me know if I got their voices right! It’s also unbetad, so please point out any mistakes.

Paxton was leading her somewhere. She wasn’t quite sure where. He’d said something—about clothes, maybe—but her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. And the party continued to rage around them. The bass of too loud music thumped through her body, shaking her bones and forcing her heartbeat to match the racing tempo.

The breeze against her damp skin made her shiver. Made her keep shivering. Hadn’t they just been inside? Why was there a breeze? Where—

Paxton’s hand left her lower back, and she found herself suddenly swaying on her feet. She hadn’t even realized that his hand had been there until its support was gone. What was happening to her that she hadn’t realized that Paxton was touching her? Was she dying? Her chest hurt with every inhale. The air stabbing into her lungs, trying to cut her to ribbons. Her heart was pounding, about to break free from her ribcage. And the world around her seemed muted and muffled and blurry. Weirdly distorted like she was—

Underwater.

Oh, God.

“Woah!”

She felt distant hands grab at her. Pulling her out of the water? Or pushing her deeper? The breeze was ice against her skin. Her pulse thudded in her ears, everything else drowned out by its roar. She had to find the surface, but her legs were numb, useless, paralyzed. Her lungs were caving in—or, no, filled with water. The pressure unbearable. Ribs cracking under the strain. Her throat tightened. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe and—

“Devi! Devi, hey, can you hear me? I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Paxton. Paxton’s hand in her’s. Paxton’s face in her field of view. His eyebrows drawn together, lips tight with worry. Worry—for her?

She managed to nod her head, motions jerky. The motion unbalanced her. Set her head spinning. The rip current threatening to drag her deeper.

Paxton squeezed her hand. A lifebuoy. “Ok, can you name five things you can see for me?”

The world was still swimming. She felt disconnected, trapped at the bottom of a pool while everyone watched impassively from above. She was still shaking. Why couldn’t she stop shaking?

“Devi?” Paxton prompted, voice so soft it made her ache.

“Right.” Forcing that single word out through the water in her lungs was exhausting. But she couldn’t let Paxton down. Couldn’t disappoint him. The last person still in her life. Five things. “Um. Your eyes. Your jacket. The ground. My dress.” With each word spoken, the next came a little easier. But still, she hesitated for a second. Her voice dropped, nearly whispering, “Your lips.”

Said lips curved into a small smile. “Good. Now, what are four things you can feel?”

Her breath hitched, and her vision abruptly went blurry. Her eyes stung—chlorine? She blinked rapidly. Her hand darted to her leg, pinching her skin roughly, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood. “My—my legs. I can’t—I can’t feel—”

Paxton caught her hand, gently prying it away from her leg. He replaced it with his own, palm burning her skin like a brand. “I got you. I promise, your legs still work. Do you think you can tell me four things you feel?”

Devi managed another approximation of a nod. His thumb started to rub little circles by her knee, the repetitive motion soothing enough that she managed to take a deep—shuddering and painful—breath. Still, progress.

“Your hand—hands,” she said. Paxton’s grip on her tightened for a second. She met his gaze and found herself shuddering for a new reason. “Uh, the breeze. The pavement. My awful, wet dress.” She was starting to settle back into herself. Unfortunately, that meant she was all too aware of the way the damp fabric clung to her.

“Good. You’re almost done, and then we’ll get you out of that wet dress. What are three things you can hear?”

Devi stared at him silently for a moment, but if he realized what he said, he didn’t show it. Perhaps she was still more out of it than she’d thought. Eventually, she answered, “Your voice. The music. My heart.” The last, she said softly, like it was a confession. Maybe it was. The fear was receding, leaving bone deep fatigue in its place, but her heart continued to race.

Paxton smiled at her. Had he been that close a second ago? “Two things you can smell.”

“Chlorine and…”—her nose wrinkled—“chlorine.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’ll give you that one. It really covers everything up.”

Devi smiled back at him. They were still holding hands. Could he feel her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings? She hoped her hand wasn’t too clammy.

“Last one: One thing you can taste. Or would like to taste.”

You. “Chlorine, again,” she said, sticking her tongue out in feigned disgust.

Paxton chuckled softly, the sound punching her straight in the gut. They were both silent for a moment. His breathing was slow and deep, and Devi found herself unconsciously matching him. He was the metronome, demanding her to keep time. Her lungs twinged as they expanded fully, but when Paxton paused for a beat between inhale and exhale, she mimicked him, relishing in the ache after the suffocating feeling from before.

His voice was quiet as he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

She glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Thank you for that.”

“Of course.” His gaze was heavy when she looked up, and she nearly held her breath in anticipation. But she couldn’t afford to screw this up and lose yet another person. She slipped her hand out of his, making a futile attempt—mostly for show—to squeeze some of the water out of the hem of her dress.

“You said something about clothes?” Getting her out of that wet dress, to be specific. She pushed the thought away; she had to focus on being a good friend, not pining away hopelessly.

“Right.” He sounded—disappointed? Her head whipped up. He didn’t look disappointed. Wishful thinking, then. This “being a good friend” thing might be tougher than she’d thought. He gave her thigh one last squeeze—how had she missed the fact that his hand was still on her leg?—and stood, offering a hand to help her up. “I have some extra sweats in the car that you can wear.”

The thought of wearing Paxton’s clothes would have sent her into a tizzy any other day. Today, she was bone-deep exhausted. Which she realized when she stood and nearly face planted into Paxton’s chest. Her knees buckling threatened to send her spiraling again, but she could still feel them, feel the lead weights in all of her muscles and the throbbing from her ill-advised pinch.

Plus, Paxton’s hands were on her waist, saving her from breaking her nose on his sternum or tipping over backwards to crack her skull on his car. He was murmuring at her, not really saying anything, but tone and cadence soothing. It reminded her of someone talking to an injured wild animal they were trying to catch. These days, she often felt like a wild animal, cornered and scared and lashing out at the people trying to help her.

“Devi?”

She shook the thoughts off, starting slightly as she realized that Paxton’s hands were still on her waist and her hands were clutching his forearms. “Sorry,” she said, not moving her hands. “I kind of got lost in thought there.”

Paxton shrugged. “No worries. I should’ve realized that your blood sugar would be low. I’ve got snacks in the car. Think you can lean against the car and stay upright long enough for me to grab them?”

She nodded, albeit reluctantly. But only because his hands were warm and she was cold. Definitely not because standing like that made it very easy to fantasize about kissing him. She half listened to Paxton rattle off an implausibly long list of choices—was he running some sort of strange convenience store out of the back of his jeep?—eventually just letting him decide.

He’d returned quickly, snacks and sweats in hand and watched her like a hawk as she carefully lowered herself to sit leaning against the car’s tire. And thus, she found herself sitting on the ground outside Ben’s house—outside the biggest party of the year—in a wet dress, drinking a juice box and eating banana bread with Paxton Hall-Yoshida, the hottest guy in school. If her thigh didn’t still hurt, she’d be tempted to pinch herself again.

She was on her second slice—Paxton was on what seemed to be his second loaf—when the wind blew sharply, reminding her of the fact that she was still soaked. She shivered violently, and Paxton was on his feet instantly. “You should get changed,” he said, stepping around to the other side of the car. “Wouldn’t want to go to the hospital for hypothermia.”

She nodded and pulled his sweatshirt over her head so that she could maintain some amount of dignity while wiggling out of the clingy fabric. “Thanks for letting me borrow your sweats. This is so embarrassing; you keep having to rescue me at parties.”

“It’s not embarrassing for me.” He shot her a slight smile. “I always come out of it looking cool.”

#daxton #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #nhie #nhie netflix #nhie fic #my fic #my post #devi #paxton #paxton hall yoshida #paxton h y #devi vishwakumar

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fmdjaein · 3 years

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restructuring task #1: changes (+5 tracker points)

assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different? these can be as small as an opinion on a song they hadn’t released previously or as big as a major change in their background. // wc: 575

jaein’s the muse of mine that has gone through the most changes in order to fit her into a new position.

first of all, she’s been aged down a year because of the age range of ultraviolet which also means her siblings have all been aged down a year too. ultimately, this doesn’t change much about herself as she’s still the eldest of four children and from a conservative city, but it is a minor change that’s occurred. her father is not a regular office worker anymore but is instead a non-commissioned officer in the ROK army. her mother’s occupation remains the same but what this brings on is an even more conservative environment for jaein to have grown up in. she’s also a lot more athletic now because of her father’s emphasis on being physically healthy. she’ll take jogs at night in order to get her mind off of things or go biking around the han river if she needs some time to herself. she’s also learned taekwondo starting at a young age and even dipped her feet into archery due to her father’s wishes. the latter never stuck past junior high, but she did get a black belt in taekwondo and is still quite good at it.

the family change also means that instead of wanting to become an idol to prove her parents wrong, jaein instead goes off to college in seoul in order to almost escape her parents. the idol thing just comes along because she joins a busking and dancing club once she starts college. while the past version of jaein was feeling helpless because she feels like she can never prove anything to her parents, this version of jaein will insist that she doesn’t need to prove anything to her parents even though her heart argues otherwise. a lot of her problems become more unconscious and internal as she argues with herself that she’s completely fine with not getting attention from her parents but really, she’s still desiring that.

her position has also changed from being a lead dancer and lead vocal to just a lead vocal. taking a look at her real-life counterparts, i’d say that her overall skill level has probably decreased a tad bit as well. she’s the only member in ultraviolet to not have a main position in anything which makes her now a member who sort of blends into the group well enough to not stick out like a sore thumb but also not good enough to really stand out as a star. she’s more of a regular member and the general public might even think that she’s not really fit to be in a group like ultraviolet. instead, they’d probably see that she fits a group like candy or even some of equinox’s brighter releases like happiness or red flavor.

with the position change and a slight image shift, she won’t be individually pushed as much as she was back when she was with lucid. while she’s still the leader of the group, ultraviolet as a whole has a much different group image and relevancy level since debut so they don’t need her to be a group spokesperson (said changes will also be implemented once past claimed points claims get figured out). however, she still has a public idol image similar to jaein 1.0. she’s expected to be bubbly and enthusiastic and is closer to being a sort of ideal girlfriend image now.

what does your muse think of their company and their group? // wc: 281

she’ll say that the best thing gold star media ever did was debut platinum. that’s a joke. sort of. they are her favorite musical canon group within famed though because she loves easy listening music which a lot of platinum’s music consists of (special shout out to songs like sweet girl, empty, and beautiful pain). other than that, however, she actually doesn’t have a lot of thoughts about her company. at the end of the day, they’re her employer and she just follows whatever they ask her to do. so far, she doesn’t think their treatment of the group has been very bad, and she just hopes it stays decent up until the end of their contract.

ultraviolet doesn’t exactly put out any music that she enjoys. the closest they’ve come is probably as if it’s your last and stay but the heavier, girl crush songs just aren’t her style. she enjoys easy listening music which is like the farthest thing to use when describing her group’s image and sound. the overwhelming amount of success they’ve found both domestically and internationally since their debut is something that jaein’s still trying to get used to. she’s never really been the center of attention and though she’s arguably the least focused on member out of the four, just the overall attention that ultraviolet gets feels like a lot to her. having grown up with her parents telling her that she has to lead by example, it’s become a habit for her as the leader to feel that pressure all on her own (something that hasn’t changed about her though the intensity level is simply lowered because she’s not as important of a member).

is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract? // wc: 293

jaein is currently on her first contract with gold star since she debuted only two years ago. though those two years have felt very long because of the success that came with the group starting from their debut. there’s still quite a lot of time left until ultraviolet will even have to start thinking about contract renewals, but this idol life just doesn’t seem to be it for jaein. it’s not like she ever dreamed of becoming an idol. when she got approached by a casting manager during one of her busking sessions, she didn’t even want to go to the audition. it was mostly the members of the busking club that convinced her to try it out because “there’s no harm in trying” and “you’ll regret not doing it later in your life”. the last thing she even expected was to become a trainee. she never went out to find the idol life; it sort of came to her instead.

however, she thinks by the time that contract renewals do come around for ultraviolet, she’ll most likely not resign. she’s not like some of the other girls where this life is all or nothing. she has a college degree so realistically, she thinks she can live a life once she retires. two years in and she’s already so overwhelmed and exhausted with everything that comes from ultraviolet promotions alone that she can’t imagine doing this for any years beyond the seven that she’s signed up for so far. there will undeniably be a lot of guilt if her not resigning is the cause of a disbandment, and she know fans will be upset (if they’re still relevant to that time, of course), but she simply doesn’t think she can do it anymore.

what are your muse’s goals and motivations? // wc: 266

to get through her career with as little trouble as possible. trouble could come in a lot of forms such as scandals or bad rumors or really bad sasaeng fans, but she sort of just wants a smooth sailing career. that might be hard seeing that ultraviolet is quite literally hot at the moment with their popularity and a bunch of things come along with popularity, but she hopes that she gets to remain sort of hidden in comparison to the other members so she doesn’t have to deal with it as much. at the end of the day, her final goal is probably to retire in peace and go off and live a life where nobody knows where she is. i’ve always hc-ed that she ends up being one of those idols who absolutely disappear once their group disbands and then shows up years later at a member’s wedding, and that’s the only time people hear of them.

her internal motivation in regards to her career come mostly from her virtue of being a responsible person. she doesn’t like letting people down when they’re depending on her, and she hates being a burden to anybody which is why she’s so obedient when it comes to her career. she really doesn’t argue nor does she rebel (could be said it’s a habit of growing up under a father who’s a military man). that doesn’t mean she’s a debby downer or anything because she does know how to live life and have fun, but she also knows how to be a professional when she has to be.

what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future? // tw: misogyny, wc: 255

her biggest conflict is definitely still her family. as much as jaein wants to deny that they have influence on her (she claims that she’s been out of their reaches since she started college in seoul), that doesn’t make the years she spent growing up beneath them disappear. her habits and thoughts and burdens that she continues to feel all come from the grasp her family has on her. she’s always been raised to be responsible and caring for those around her as she has to lead by example, and that still remains true even if she isn’t living with her family. the leader position she got definitely doesn’t help any of that disappear. similar to jaein 1.0, she has a good relationship with her younger sister since jaeeun’s gone through similar things as the other female sibling. however, she’s still a little awkward when it comes to her younger brothers as they’ve been spoiled out of their minds. she tries not to blame them but the resentment remains.

there’s a lot of denying and hiding of feelings when it comes to jaein and her family. she tries to escape it, but she’s the epitome of old habits die hard because she’s still living like she lived back in daegu with the way she acts. she’s learned to have some fun and actually live life as someone other than the ryu’s eldest daughter ever since she entered college, but the habits are still there. the thoughts that keep her awake at night are still there.

if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why. // wc: 252

currently, the only established career claims jaein has are in modeling and music. she only has one ost for record of youth that was given to her almost suddenly. even as a lead vocalist, she’s not the world’s most skilled singer, but she enjoyed the opportunity. she’s not expecting to become some known ost singer or anything, however, and she doesn’t think gold star is leaning on that either when it comes to jaein.

her modeling claims include a year brand ambassador claim and a single magazine cover. since all of ultraviolet are pretty girls and their group itself has name value, modeling is a pretty straightforward career choice for jaein. with her image, she gets a lot of offers for beauty products mostly such as skincare or makeup. there’s a sort of clean and bubbly image tied in with jaein that becomes evident in her brand offers and shoots as well. she gets to do the whole badass, girl cruch concept with her group members but when she’s all on her own, she gets things that don’t look like they’re in line with ultraviolet’s concept.

jaein doesn’t need individual activities. she’s pretty satisfied with what she’s been given so far, and she’s okay with being the member that’s sort of left behind when it comes to a group as big as ultraviolet because that still means she’s getting something. she understands she’s not the most eye-catching member so it makes sense that she doesn’t get as many opportunities as her members.

#famedrstask1 #( ✦ . ˚ — headcanon. )

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withabackpackandcamera · 3 years

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July 2nd, 2021

Day 7: Seeing New Things and Old Things on the Way to Vik

This morning, I definitely woke up super lethargic and fatigued. Mostly because of the late night last night but probably due to all the late nights and lack of sleep finally taking a little toll on me. Anyhow, I woke up, less refreshed than I had hoped, and joined my family for a simple breakfast spread in the communal dining area just outside of our guest cabin.

After breakfast, the late-nighters quickly washed up before packing the car. Goodbye nice, simple cabin with very little amenities. We left the cabin and drove off to visit our first stop of the day: the nearby Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon. As expected, when we arrived, the parking lot was full of cars and tour buses and people were already on their way exploring the area and taking boat tours into the lagoon. We walked along the lagoon and took in the views with our eyes and with our cameras. It was great to finally introduce Cynthia and my parents to this really cool and unique lagoon. When we finished up, we drove over to Diamond Beach/Breiðamerkursandur to take a look over there as well.

The first thing I noticed when we arrived at Diamond Beach/Breiðamerkursandur was how there were a lot less ice chunks lining the shore and in the shallow waters of the beach this visit compared to the last time I stopped by. I wonder if that was a result of global warming or just the fact that this visit, I came during the summer and not the winter. Anyhow, we walked along Breiðamerkursandur and looked at all the ice chunks on the beach and took photos. Minh was also nice enough to grab the camera from me and take some informal engagement photos of me and Cynthia on the black sand. We didn’t need any crazy, cool photos given how impromptu this was so we just took some photos while walking up and down the beach before we headed back to the car.

Our next stop after Diamond Beach and Breiðamerkursandur was Skaftafell in Vatnajokull National Park, a park that I hadn’t yet visited on my previous trips to Iceland due to time and weather condition constraints. But before making it there, we tried to make a stop at Múlagljúfur Canyon, a cool, lesser known canyon in south Iceland, but ended up aborting because of how difficult it was to get to the canyon and how involved the hike through the canyon would be once we got there. So we continued on to Skaftafell.

Because of how beautifully sunny and warm the weather was today, the park was crowded with local and international tourists alike. The goal of our short visit to Skaftafell was to hike to and finally see Svartifoss, a small but beautiful waterfall that cascades over basalt columns, sort of like Aldeyjarfoss but more different than similar. Since it was looking pretty warm out, I decided to change into a T-shirt and shorts and thank goodness I did that! Because the hike was way longer and way steeper than any of us had imagined. And conditions were way hotter than anticipated. As a result, the hike was way warmer and way more sweat-inducing than we had expected. And I definitely felt the heat, the exhaustion, and the pain of hiking up an incline with a bum heel and a heavy camera bag (because I forgot to empty out the non-essentials).. And for my mom, her bum knee made it much harder to hike up to see Svartifoss.

But we all (except mom) eventually made it to the end of the 1-1.5 mile climb. My dad didn’t actually hike all the way to the waterfall and, instead, just viewed the waterfall from afar. As for me, Cynthia, and Minh, we hiked down to the waterfall from where we left my dad and spent some time there viewing and photographing the waterfall. Because I wanted to try to capture some decent photos of Svartifoss, I took a little longer and was the last one to start the hike back. I eventually caught up with the family at the Visitor Center, where we took a short break to cool off before we headed back out on the road.

Before making our way to our evening’s lodging in Vik, we made one last detour to see Fjaðrárgljúfur Canyon. This detour required a much shorter drive than the one we would have made out to Múlagljúfur Canyon but it still involved some F road driving to get there. Luckily, it was short and before we knew it, we were strolling down to the canyon on a short, sort-of-paved path. The canyon was pretty cool to look at from the observation decks (that were built there for safety) but its beauty was really difficult to capture on camera. Because of that, as well as the midges that were flying around us in full force, we only stayed there briefly before hiking back to the car and driving off to Vik.

Once in Vik, the plan was to meet up with Ben and Maggie, great friends of ours who were flying in from Denver for their honeymoon. Because they had arrived earlier than originally expected, we mutually decided to grab dinner together and to move up our planned hangout instead of waiting until later in the evening. As a result, I dropped off most of my family at the restaurant so that they could find a table for the group as I took my dad to check into our accommodations at the Black Beach Suites, located a bit past Vik, so that he could watch a Euro 2020 soccer game he really wanted to watch.

After I had checked into our much-snazzier-than-expected suite (much more spacious with many more amenities/cooking space than expected) and dropped my dad off to watch soccer, I drove back to Vik to meet up with Ben, Maggie, and the family for dinner. Our first restaurant option, however, had closed by the time everyone had arrived so we had to pivot and find a new place to eat. Luckily, Strondin Pub was located right around the corner and had plenty of space to accommodate everyone. So that’s where we went. Cynthia and I ordered fish and chips and double cheeseburger, and both were scrumptious! We had a fantastic dinner while catching up with Ben and Maggie. It’s always so nice to eat good food as well as see good friends while traveling abroad!

To end the day, the youngsters in our group decided to visit an attraction with Ben and Maggie so that we could say we explored and briefly traveled together. After dropping off my mom at home, we drove out with Ben and Maggie to see Skógafoss, one of the beautiful and highly visited waterfalls in South Iceland. We arrived at the waterfall as the typically afternoon skies became evening skies (in appearance, as it was actually late evening by the time we got there) and most crowds had left. We walked around the waterfall and took some group photos before climbing up the steep staircase to the top of Skógafoss, where we took in the beautiful sunset blanketing the surrounding areas. What a beautiful evening to see Skógafoss with good friends!

Once we had completed our visit at Skógafoss, we drove back and, after chatting for a bit longer, dropped Maggie and Ben off at their yurt ground. So nice to briefly catch up with them in Iceland! We headed back home as it was getting late but not before making a roadside stop to hang out with and pet some Icelandic horses who were hanging out behind some fencing located right off the road. Cynthia and Minh had a grand time petting and talking with the horses as the sun set overhead. Because the sun was quickly setting by the time we had arrived at the horses, we didn’t stay too long and soon enough, drove home and washed up for bed. Tomorrow, Cynthia and I have to wake up early for our impromptu Icelandic horse adventure on the black sand beaches of Vik (more to say about that on tomorrow’s post) before continuing on through a heavily-packed last-Saturday itinerary!

5 Things I Learned/Observed Today:

1. Just in case you didn’t know, the hike to Svartifoss is not as easy as a little stroll on a level, flat sidewalk. In actuality, it’s a 1-1.5 mile hike straight up a canyon or mountain with very few parts that are flat to catch your breath. So if you’re hiking to the waterfall, especially on a hot day, definitely expect some sweating and a little bit of a workout depending on how fit or healthy you are, how hot it is or what you’re wearing, and how much you’re carrying uphill with you.

2. According to some info placards near Svartifoss, there is a natural reason why columnar jointed basalt forms in hexagonal columns. Supposedly, when lava or magma cools, the process of contraction causes the new rock to split into six-sided columns. These columns always form at right-angles to the cooling surface, where heat loss is the greatest. The reason why these columns are hexagonal is because the fracture pattern with 120 degree corners is most efficient for stress release. Nature, so natural at engineering.

3. Supposedly, Justin Bieber did some really stupid stuff (by being disrespectful to Iceland’s beautiful nature) in some music video of his that he was essentially banned from Iceland. Good riddance.

4. Lupines are purple wildflowers that thrive and grow in colder, harsher climates like on mountains and in Iceland. Of all the places in Iceland we drove through, south Iceland definitely had the most impressive lupine fields. You literally drive through a sea of lupines when driving through south Iceland. Everywhere you look, you see lupines blanketing the field all the way to the foot of the mountains and glaciers. So gorgeous!

5. The town of Vik in south Iceland has changed a ton since the first time I visited back in 2013. Not only is it much more developed with more housing options, like hostels and suites (like the Black Beach Suites), but there are also a lot more grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants, especially ones that are open until later in the evening. A much better stop for tourists now that tourism has changed the landscape in Vik compared to what it was 8-10 years ago. Again, amazing how tourism drives change!

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bipadme · 4 years

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the thrill of proximity

pairing: female detective (leila) x ava du mortain

prompt: wayhaven week day 4 - thrill

word count: 2213

warnings: none

tagging: @likemoonlights 💜, @otomefandomevents

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The key to lying to a vampire is to be comfortable with telling only part of the truth.

Leila had discovered this the hard way, when she’d told Morgan that of course she didn’t know Felix had snuck his laundry into hers again, and then proceeded to spend the next week waving smoke out of her face and out of her office. Felix had cackled pitilessly at her plight, and asked how she hadn’t known better.

A great question.

Well, she’d learned eventually. She’d learned that telling the part of the truth and being okay with it was key to lying successfully. Or, rather, simply omitting uncomfortable truths for the good of the overprotective vampires of Unit Bravo. This was the mindset she went into when she agreed to have a “girl’s night” with Tina, and then told Ava she planned on having a “nice night watching a movie and listening to this new group Tina wants me to check out.”

All technically the truth.

Leila slings her bag over her shoulder and then gives the team leader a warm smile. The stiffness in Ava’s shoulders seems to have dissipated a bit and she nods curtly, “Acceptable. Considering the recent trapper threat--”

Leila scoffs, “Overgrown teenagers with the poor sense to try and accost me outside of the station?” The incident itself had been more annoying than anything else. A sidestep and a quick kick to the rear had sent one straight into a wall, the other downed by the taser she’d jammed into his gut. They hadn’t so much as landed a hit, that time, but it had been enough to make Ava scowl and demand full-time Leila-sitting duty for the better part of a week.

“Trappers are a credible threat, just because this group wasn’t prepared doesn’t mean the next won’t be,” the vampire pauses.

Then she takes a step closer, fear flashing in her eyes, “More and more people are finding out and I…” Her hand reaches out, hovering so close to the detective’s skin that Leila feels a thrill race straight to her heart until it pounds like she’s just been shocked. All she wants is to close that infinitesimal distance, to stop wondering whether Ava runs warm or cool, whether her hands are calloused from training or if she heals too quickly and her hands are soft, or whether her hands will clench a hair too tight in concern or be achingly gentle. She wants to close that distance, but she feels arrested by the intensity of Ava’s full attention. Instead of pushing forward she’s frozen and struck dumb.

Then the tension breaks like a rubber band stretched to its limit.

The vampire seems to notice how close she is and jerks backwards a good three feet until the distance leaves Leila feeling cold and slightly shattered. She rocks back onto her heels, trying to find her equilibrium in the midst of a moment she is sure the other woman is feeling as well. She swallows past the tightness of her throat, clogged with disappointment.

God, I’m pathetic, she can’t help but think.

What had she expected? Why did she continuously let these moments haunt and torment her like she lived in a romance novel instead of reality? It was as if their orbits had destined them to pull close, but never touch. So instead they spent their days vacillating between being tantalizingly near and terribly far. How long could she be expected to keep this up? Why did she allow it?

With that thought, she releases the breath she’d been holding and tries for a smile. It feels brittle on her face, and it must look as much too, judging from the crease forming between Ava’s brows. A crease that soon smooths out into her usual stoic non-expression (or as the detective had privately taken to calling it, her repression face.)

The vampire opens her mouth, but she cuts her off before she can say anything that will sink her heart any further, “Have a nice evening, Ava.”

She turns on her heel and determinedly walks away with the weight of Ava’s stare on her shoulders. But she knows better than to let her posture droop so soon. She knows how to walk away and smile at the passing familiar faces with something approaching nonchalance, but she also knows that she hasn’t fooled the people she wants to fool the most.

Or herself.

Once she leaves the warehouse and is safely in her car, that’s when she lets her shoulders drop and passes a hand over her face in sheer exhaustion. That’s when she makes her decision.

I’m going to have a nice time with Tina, she swears to herself as she jerks her car into gear, and for one fucking night I’m not going to dwell Ava fucking du Mortain.

That, she hoped, was the truth.

(It wasn’t.)

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

By three in the morning, she has a distinctly pleasant buzz, a lighter wallet, a happily drunk Tina deposited safely at her apartment, and feet sore from dancing all attesting to a night well (and safely) spent. She and Tina had watched a movie, danced, drank, eaten greasy and cheap pizza, and allowed themselves to relax into the comfortable anonymity of the city. For an hour or two, Leila had even allowed herself to forget the team that thought she was safely ensconced in her living room.

Until the texts, and the calls, and the inevitable need to silence her phone to buy a little peace. Beyond all the remnants of a fun night, she has one text conversation reassuring Felix that she hasn’t been brutally murdered and/or kidnapped by ne’er-do-wells, sixteen missed calls from Unit Bravo, and what she’s sure is one furious team leader waiting for her at the apartment.

Leila steps out of the car with a shiver at the cool air on her skin and the near freezing asphalt under her bare feet. Immediately, her gaze is drawn upward to the silhouette in her apartment window, broad shoulders painting a severe figure against the warm light of her living room lamp.

It’s either a particularly stupid trapper, or Ava lying in wait with the lecture of a lifetime, and no matter what she would admit to out loud, Leila knows what she’s secretly hoping for.

Ava, even angry and lecturing, is always far more delightful to see than Leila is ever prepared for.

She takes her time meandering into the building, heels dangling from her fingers as she quietly makes her way through the dark hallways. Her front door isn’t even locked, and she takes a moment to drop her shoes next to the mat before dragging her gaze to the ice-cold fury of Ava’s eyes.

She forces herself to look away and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water. She can feel Ava’s eyes on the unusual looseness of her stride, and Leila hopes she isn’t so tipsy that she looks foolish.

Glass in hand, she takes a small sip before leaning forward onto the island and tilting her head in faux curiosity, “I told Felix I made it home safely. What brings you here?”

“I came in,” she says stiffly, “When I was on patrol and discovered that you weren’t in your apartment as you’d told me you would be. Where were you?”

It’s stated more as a demand than a question, and Leila purses her lips before speaking. “I did watch a movie and I did check out some new music,” she hesitates and bites the inside of her cheek, “While I was in the city with Tina.”

At that moment, the buzz notification of Leila’s phone fills the silence following her question, and Ava scoffs.

“Ah, so your phone does work. I was starting to wonder if it was unable to take calls,” the blonde sneers, the aristocratic lines of her face still unfairly beautiful. “Or is it simply my calls you can’t take?”

“I don’t take calls when I’m out with a friend, and I’ve been texting the group and Felix all night to check in,” Leila argues, her ire rising despite her intentions to stay calm. “Just because I didn’t deign to answer your questions--”

“I should not have bothered with texting at all! I should have tracked you down the moment you--”

Leila slaps her palms onto the counter with a glare, “For what? I was careful! I took an Uber there and back, I only had a few drinks, I stayed in sight of a group of people at all times--”

Ava pushes onward and circles the island to stand directly in front of the brunette as if proximity will win her the argument, “You come home, drunk--”

Leila scoffs, “I’m barely even tipsy—“

“In an Uber—“

“Oh, the horror!”

Ava’s scowl deepens, “Uber’s safety policies are far from—“

“Ava,” Leila raises a hand to stop her and rolls her eyes, “If you cite Uber’s safety policies, the most dangerous thing about this evening will be me jumping out of my window.”

Ava sucks in a breath on a hiss, her eyes narrowed, “Someone has to prioritize your safety, since you seem thoroughly determined to take every risk that crosses your path! Do you have any idea how easy it would be for someone to make you disappear from a crowded room?”

Leila takes a step forward, and it’s a testament to Ava’s stubbornness and irritation that she refuses to back up despite how close they now stand. “Ava, I’m human. I could trip on Douglas’s stupid charging cable and crack my head wide open, tomorrow!” She scoffs and crosses her arms, “So excuse me if I’m not impressed by how easy it is for some ridiculously strong supernatural to kill me! Why should I be more scared of you or anyone else than I am of sharks and car crashes? Or even particularly aggressive geese?” She flings her arms into the air, “Are you going to nail down every vending machine in Wayhaven in fear that I’ll shake one and it’ll crush me? Where do you draw the line?”

She crosses her arms again and watches with irritation as Ava takes a shaky breath and pinches her nose before speaking, “You are the most impossibly infuriating human I have met in 900 years,” she seethes.

“Well I’m not much impressed by you either,” Leila lies, her idiotic brain choosing this moment to notice how close their shared anger has brought them. How, in her pique, Ava had put a hand on the island next to her and drawn close until she loomed over Leila in a shiveringly satisfying way. She’s still irritated, sure, but it takes a backseat to the desire rushing through her and making her warmer than any alcohol could manage.

Determined to maintain her stance, she tilts her face up, jaw set stubbornly even though she only wants to kiss the sharpness out of Ava’s glare.

It’s just for show, she thinks bleakly. She can glare and bluster all night, but she can’t deny what she wants more than anything else. She can’t deny how frightened she is that admitting her feelings would drive Ava so far away from her that this closeness, even if antagonistic and charged with irritation, would be nothing but a distant dream. And fuck if she isn’t pathetic as hell, but she has no plans on giving this up any time soon.

Yes, she feels guilty for making Ava worry. Despite that, now the vampire is closer than she usually ever dares, her full attention pinned on the shorter woman in front of her until Leila’s every nerve sings with energy. Her warmth is magnetizing, and she feels sober in a way that is nothing short of electrifying. So, yes, she chases this feeling harder than any adrenaline junkie looking for a thrill, and damn if aggravating Ava didn’t always always manage to deliver it.

Her heart pounds, and Ava’s eyes flick a quick glance to her chest, before meeting the detective’s eyes once more, this time with a noticeable flush in her cheeks. And Leila… she can’t help herself. She’s sure she’s visibly trembling at this point, and still she can’t stop herself from swaying forward until her chest is barely brushing the other woman’s. If Ava won’t lean down and meet her halfway, that’s fine, she’ll just--

As her hand drifts forward to brace itself against the vampire’s hip, Ava whips away in a cold rush of air. Leila stumbles hard and catches herself on the counter with a curse. When she looks up, Ava is halfway out of the door, trying to school her stricken expression into something resembling neutrality.

Good for her, Leila’s shoulders droop even as she straightens from her near fall, at least one of us can pretend this is okay.

“Next time,” Ava croaks, her voice betraying her, “You’ll take one of us.” She takes a breath that seems to steady her, and glares, “And you’ll answer your phone.”

Then she’s out of reach once more.

The momentary thrill long gone, Leila sinks to the floor and drops her head into her hands.

And she plans on doing it all over again, if that’s what it takes.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #wayhaven week 2020 #twc detective #ava du mortain #twc: leila #welp i tried!!!!

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onthesandsofdreams · 4 years

Text

Halloween Party

Pairing: Steve/Diana Rating: T Summary: “So… we’re throwing the Halloween part this year, right?”

Diana looked up from her laptop, Steve stood at the kitchen’s doorway, leaning casually against it, he bore a small frown. “Yes,” she told him. “Sameer hosted last year. It’s our turn this one.”

“Oh jolly,” Steve walked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet door and grabbed a glass. “So, do you have any plans on how to outdo him?” Words: 1959 Notes: A gift for @steventrevor, here you go Mara dear, your gift!

Read @ AO3

“So… we’re throwing the Halloween part this year, right?”

“Oh jolly,” Steve walked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet door and grabbed a glass. “So, do you have any plans on how to outdo him?” He asked as he walked to the fridge and grabbed the pinot that was opened and served himself. Once he did, he lifted the bottle, silently asking if she wanted some.

She shook her head, “No to both your questions, but maybe would turn the house – and I do mean, the whole house – into a haunted house?”

Steve sat down next to Diana, “That sounds like a plan, we’d need stuff though. We have basic supplies, we’d need more.” He thought for a moment, “Could come expensive, but you know what? Worth it. Maybe we could even enter the ‘best decorated house’ contest and win it too. What’s the prize on that, do you remember?”

“A thousand in cash, a week’s worth of groceries and we skip duties on the next potluck.”

Steve nodded, “Worth it. So, let’s make battle plans.”

She and Steve spent a week pouring over websites, google and other resources to decide how to decorate the house. In the end, it was Steve who came with their most impressive idea.

“I got it!” Steve bolted upright, disturbing Diana’s sleep. “Diana, a musical light show!”

Diana, still tired, sleepy and disoriented said, “Steve, it’s the middle of the night, please go to sleep.”

“Diana, sleep later. We can put a musical light show, to two songs: Ghostbuster’s theme and This is Halloween.”

She closed her eyes, resting her head against her pillow, “If I accept, would you let me go back to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine, we’re doing a light show. I’ll worry about it when I’m awake. Goodnight Steve.”

“Night Diana.”

True to her word, she worried the moment she was fully awake and able to realize what she had agreed to, but Steve showed her some light shows videos, promising to get the best and installed by a professional that calmed her down. They did looked quite spectacular and besides, the light show would only be up the week before Halloween and on Halloween itself – that fell on Saturday, what a luck!

They gathered outdoor decorations, found the skeletons and tombstones they wanted. A fog machine that called her fancy, some lights that would hang from the tree outside in their yard and hanging bats that could be put there too.

For the inside of their home, they bought spiderweb to put all over, a skeleton that when someone passed it by greeted hello, ghosts that could be hanged from the ceiling, bats and spiders to put everywhere, plenty of candy for trick-or-treaters, lights that would flicker every so often, crystal balls that fogged, severed hands to hide in all sorts of places, mirrors with a shadow in it, warning signs, signs with creepy and oblique warnings, two wreath of snakes for their stairwell, an animated doorbell that hand an eye that blinked, skulls, two punch bowls that stood on ravens and plenty of other things. And then, they set themselves up to the task of decorating the moment the second week of October entered.

“Why are we doing this again?” Diana asked, as she looked down from her ladder, as she placed more spiderweb on the corner of their living room. “Why did I agree?”

Steve, who was hiding severed limbs grinned, “Because it will be a memorable party, it will be fun and it shut Sameer up about his decorating skills.”

“Fine.” She looked at her handywork, nodded once and descended. “I’m adding more spiderwebs in the kitchen and hiding some eyes on shelves. What are you doing next?”

“Installing the doorbell. The light show guys will be here in an hour, so I’ll supervising that too.”

“Well then, carry on.”

***

Decorating the whole house took them two days, by the end of Sunday they were exhausted, but quite happy. “The house looks amazing,” Diana said after coming out of the bath. “We really outdid ourselves. Worth the expense.”

Steve, who was lounging in the bed, grinned, “Well, it’ll even itself on years to come. I mean, we don’t have to go all out every year, we can pick and choose what to put and when, but what we got has the quality to last years, so, win. And agreed, the house is awesome.”

She couldn’t help but to smile back at Steve, “It will be a fun party, I’m sure. I can’t believe we actually found enough creepy songs for a full playlist.”

“Halloween, like Christmas sells.”

“That it does.” She let herself fall on the bed, her body ached, but it was the sort of ache she liked, that one that said that her body had been busy. “I’m very much looking forward seeing everyone’s faces.”

“Me too, but I’m beat. Goodnight, goddess mine.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

***

One week flew them by, their neighbors had already complimented their house décor. And Steve would always grin and say, “Wait ‘till you see the light show’. It was a moment of glory as they stood outside, after night had fallen for Steve to push the button that would start the show.

The moment it began, her jaw dropped. The lights danced, the ghost shaped lights had mouths that ‘sang’ along to the music. A pair of neighbors came out, and stood there watching as the show went on. Steve simply grinned like a loon and she felt a swell of pride, yes, their home would be the best decorated and win this year.

“It’s amazing,” she said, her voice was barely loud above the music. “Steve, this is fantastic.”

Steve came to her side, threw an arm around her and pulled her close. “See, genius idea.”

She burrowed into his arm, letting his cologne wash over her and his warmth sheltered her against the Autumn chill. She chuckled, “Yes, just try and not have more genius ones when we are asleep. Do be a genius awake.”

Steve let out a mock gasp of indignation. “Well, miss Diana, I’ll have you know that…”

She laid a finger against his lips, “I tease. You are quite brilliant when you’re awake too.”

“That’s a relief,” Steve muttered against her finger, then kissed it gently. “Let’s go inside. Oh, we really need to get the last décor.”

She frowned, “Did we forget something?”

Steve pulled her towards their home, “Pumpkins, for craving and place some candles – electric, of course – inside.”

“Oh. Well then, we can get them tomorrow.”

“We really should wait until Wednesday, I don’t want them to rot or spoil before hand.”

“Very well.”

***

It was Wednesday morning when they got several pumpkins for their entrance, they got smaller ones for the steps up their front door and once they went home, they were going to start craving them. Steve had gotten the tools earlier during their shopping spree.

“How in the hell is pumpkin craving so hard?! The movies make it look so easy!” Steve ranted, irritated as he tried to follow the pattern they had traced on the pumpkin. Steve was going for a ghost, she was going for a face. “I’m not happy.”

She grinned, “Take it easy, love. It’s not that hard.” True to her word, she was doing much better than Steve, she had managed to do it faster and with a steady hand, so her face was coming along nicely. Once she finished, she would move to a smaller pumpkin and crave a spider or a bat. “It’s easy, just follow the design.”

Steve gave her a look, “I know, that’s what I’m doing, but it’s still not coming along.”

She stopped what she was doing, took his project and began to show him how to do it. It was funny that she had such easy, because it was also her first time doing so, Steve had decorated pumpkins before, but it had been quite a few years since he last done so. “See,” she said as she moved her hand and carved the ghost. “Easy.”

Steve had a sharp look, full of determination. “Got it, give me that. This gourd won’t defeat me.”

She laughed. “Of course not.”

Working slowly, but surely, they finished the pumpkins that same day. Steve had bought battery operated candles that would give enough light for them, they made a lovely sight. She would’ve added flame candles, specially if she had added cinnamon to them, or ones that smelled like pumpkin pie or spice. But it wasn’t to be, maybe next year, when they didn’t have so many things on.

The day of the party arrived, she and Steve had been responsible adults enough to make food ahead of time. Said food was things that made things easier, they made sandwiches and they had pigs on a blanket ready to toss in the oven, alongside spicy wings and they had placed a large order of pizzas. Two large punches were ready, an alcoholic and one non alcoholic, plus sodas and strong liquors. For costumes, they decided to match the music and went as Jack and Sally.

And then, they ready themselves for it.

Sameer, when seeing the house sighed and said, “You two crazy kids. You went all out, didn’t you?”

Steve’s grin was smug, “Of course we did, sometimes it doesn’t hurt to throw a good party, don’t you think?”

Sameer arched a brow, “Yes, of course.” He looked around, “And I have to say, it’s magnificent. Now, point me at the food.”

With the music, their friends and neighbor popping in, it was an amazing party, one that lasted well until after midnight. They fell on the bed, “I have to take the make up, but I can’t move.” She said. “I should’ve take it off before coming to bed.”

“I’m beat myself. I also have to take off make up.” Steve turned to Diana, “How do you put on make up every day and then take it off at night and do it all over again next morning?”

She smiled, “Because I can, it’s sort of zen for me. As I’m doing my make up, my mind is blank. That’s another form of meditation for me.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Steve grunted and stood from the bed. “I’ll be back.”

She followed him with her eyes as he went to the bathroom. And while he was gone, she managed to slide off her costume and tossed aside her wig, she didn’t bother putting things nicely, she just tossed everything aside and waited until Steve came back.

When he did, he had his costume under his arm and no make up. She stood and went to wash her face, good thing they had no plans for today. She looked herself in the mirror, even with the make up, she looked tired.

She grabbed her make up remover, then began to take it away. It came off slowly, and when it did, she grabbed her soap and opened the water and waited until it came out warm, she washed her face slowly and enjoyed feeling her skin clean. She closed the tap, grabbed her face towel and gently dried it, put serum and then her night cream and went back to the bed.

Steve was asleep. She smiled softly, crawled into bed with him, turned the light off and promptly fell asleep.

It was later that day, when Steve got a text from the HOA, they had won the décor contest. They both grinned. Victory.

#usermars #wondertrev #Diana x Steve #Diana Prince #steve trevor #sameer #wonder woman fic #au: modern #steventrevor #wonder woman

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