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impala-dreamer · 3 months ago

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Sweet Creature

A Supernatural Story

~Bad things happen when you take matters into your own hands and try to prove that love conquers all~

Demon!Dean x OFC Stevie Miller

3138 Words

NSFW, Danger, Angst, Violence, Blood, Death

“Are you willing to bleed for me?” for @jacklesversebingo

JacklesBingo Masterlist ~ Full Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

It was certainly a risk believing him, but she had no choice.

Sam was going insane, trapping demons and slicing them open until they talked. Usually, they didn’t, and things got even bloodier.

Cas was- well, she really wasn’t sure what was going on with Cas, but it probably wasn’t good.

Nothing had been good since their encounter with Metatron. Nothing had been right since Dean’s bloody body had been laid out on his bed and wiped clean. No one had been at peace since he disappeared.

Despite the shit storm life had become, it was somehow getting worse.

Stevie was about to give up completely and hide herself away for a month with a couple cases of Tito’s and enough Takis to burn a hole in her gut, but fate stepped in. And this time, fate came in the form of a text message from the King of the Jackasses himself.

Crowly reached out to Stevie and sent her Dean’s location, claiming he was done with babysitting the demonic mess. She almost laughed. How many times had she been tasked with watching a tied-up, pathetic Crowley, and there he was begging her to trade places? Seemed fitting.

It immediately crossed her mind that it might be a trap and not a very well-planned one at that, but what choice did she have? To wallow away in the Bunker while Sam went slowly mad in the next room? To give up and go back home to the sticks and try to build a solid, respectable life? No. There was only one thing she could do, so she packed up her car and hit the road, following the GPS and daydreaming of the fight to come.

It wouldn’t be easy to bring him back. She knew it would take every ounce of strength she had just to see him there, walking and talking, infested with demonic life. She wondered if she’d be able to stand it.

Dean had always been the light in her life. He was the beacon in her storm, the icon in the chapel of her heart. For years, she’d tangled herself up in him, giving up a normal life and a hopeful future in service of Dean Winchester. She’d stayed by his side through every rough patch; held his hand each time the earth opened up to swallow him down. She never asked for anything in return, holding on for a sweet smile or a gentle kiss at night.

Long ago, she realized that she would follow no matter where he went. No matter the price, she would pay it. Heaven, Hell, Limbo- she’d be by his side even if it took everything she had.

He was everything.

So the threat of a trap was nothing to her now. She’d deal with whatever was up ahead, as long as it saved him.

Half a day later she was in the parking lot of Benny’s Bunny Lounge staring at the reflection of soft pink neon lights on the hood of the Impala. Dusk was settling around her and as daylight faded, her courage grew. She tapped the back right pocket of her jeans, making sure the flask of holy water was in place and took a breath.

He was sitting center stage. His muddy boots were propped up on the table; the chair was tilted back on two legs. He wore a familiar flannel shirt open at the collar and he tipped a bottle back as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

A young woman was dancing for him, rubbing her slim body up and down the pole, and spreading her thighs to give him a peek. Her caramel skin was covered in specks of glitter that sparkled in the flashing lights as each beat of the song made her hips swirl.

Stevie pulled up a chair and sat at the table beside him.

“Nice tits.”

Her voice was gentle enough to stay discreet but loud enough to reach him over the DJ’s latest offering.

His eyes turned slowly and she felt the icy glare prickle her pale skin.

Dean ran the tip of his tongue against the ridge of his top teeth. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. There was neither worry nor guilt on his face, only calm smugness.

“On her or me?”

Stevie gave him a short laugh as she leaned back and looked him over. His hair was longer than she’d last seen and stuck up as if he’d finally discovered hair products. His jaw was tight as always but shadowed by a little more stubble, and his arms looked thicker, his chest broader.

She reigned in the memory of lustful nights and cleared her throat.

“You have bulked up a bit,” she answered with a nod, “but I meant the dessert-named nursing student on stage.”

Dean kicked his legs down and righted his chair. “Actually, her name is Sparkles and she's pre-law.”

Stevie hummed. “Right.”

Sparkles turned her back to the room and squatted against the pole. Her tiny red thong retreated higher up into her ass and Stevie wondered how hard it was to fish out at the end of her shift.

Dean didn’t seem to have the same thought but was interested in the giggle of the woman’s plump backside. He turned his attention back to Sparkles and his beer, leaving Stevie to sit in silence carefully pondering her next words.

She kept her tone casual but took a chance at moving things along.

“We miss you back home, Dean.” She moved her amber eyes from him to the stage. “The Bunker ain't the same without you.”

He laughed as he lifted the beer to his lips. “What, you don't like Sam's cooking?”

She smiled and leaned her arms on the table. The top was sticky and she tried not to think about why. “No, I don’t. But that's beside the point.” Disgusted, she sat up and wiped her palms down her thighs. Dean was unmoved, drinking his beer and staring at bouncing tits. Stevie sighed. “You gotta be missing home,” she insisted. “How ‘bout, let's get you back and we can fix this.”

“Who says I wanna fix this?” He set the bottle down and turned in his seat to face her. “I got all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll I want.”

She scoffed. “You always had that.”

“No.”

In an instant, his tone shifted. He cocked his head to the right and blinked. Midnight flooded his eyes and Stevie gasped. She bit her tongue to hold back a wave of fear and stared into the inky darkness.

“What I had,” he went on, leaning closer, trying to get a rise out of her, “was a whining, abusive, punk-ass little brother and a fucking poodle constantly yapping at my ankles.”

She swallowed hard. Her heart was pounding; lean muscles aching with the desire to bolt.

Dean blinked again and the deep green she so loved returned to his eyes.

Stevie sighed and clicked her tongue, drumming up her casual courage once more. “Really, Dean? A poodle? I picture myself as a more… hearty puppy.” A flick of her wrist pulled a wayward strand of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes.

“Fine. A schnauzer.”

“I don’t know why, but that seems worse…”

He laughed and sat back, returning to a more relaxed and unbothered state.

Still tingling with nervous flight energy, Stevie tapped her hand on the table and stood up.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” she announced. “Can I getcha somethin’?”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted as if he were amusedly shocked. “Could go for another,” he replied, shaking his empty bottle.

She nodded and reached for the beer. He wouldn’t give up his grip and their fingers touched for a quick moment. She sucked in a deep breath and he grinned.

“Hurry back…”

She scanned the club as she walked to the bar. It was mostly empty except for a few staff members, a drunk old man asleep by the door, and two dudes in business suits pretending to be in a meeting so they could write off their lap dances. The front door was guarded by a gorilla of a man in a neon orange shirt and the back exit beyond the stage was watched by a slight, creeper of an older gentleman whose mustache likened him to every porn peddler in every movie she’d ever seen. They wouldn’t be much help if Dean decided to attack. A little, but not much.

She ordered two domestic beers and paid in cash, leaving a hefty tip simply so the bartender would keep his eyes on her. An added layer of safety never hurt, even if the guy looked like he could get his ass kicked by an automatic door.

She had to use what she had on hand. Dean taught her that, back when he was really Dean.

This Dean, whatever he truly was, ignored her return, though he surely felt the shift in atmosphere as she moved, and heard it when she cleared her throat.

“One more for the gentleman in the played-out burgundy flannel.”

He cocked his head to look up at her and grinned. “Thought you loved this shirt,” he mused, accepting the fresh beer.

Stevie shrugged and retook her seat. “Eh. It’s not bad,” she replied, “just… old. You really should think about punching up your wardrobe a bit. There have been significant discoveries within the fashion industry since 1974.”

He laughed and took a drink. “Yeah. What the fuck do you know about fashion?” Green eyes swept down her thin body, noting the wide-leg jeans ripped at the knees and around the hem, the faded concert tee that had seen better days, and a thrift store jacket she hadn’t washed in years. “Look like you fell out of a Nirvana video.”

Stevie straightened up and smoothed a hand down her front. “At least I don’t look like an Army-Navy reject. You back on active duty, Radar?”

Dean’s eyes were back on Sparkles, but his focus was on Stevie. He nearly choked on a sip of beer but pushed it back with a laugh. “Radar?” He sat up and set his elbows on the table. “Fuck you. I’m Hawkeye or I’m no one.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hold on while I go distill you a martini…”

Dean licked a smile from his lips and returned his attention to the vibrating thighs a few feet away from his nose.

“You know where they have delicious martinis? Back home.”

His palm slammed down on the tabletop and the wood splintered under the force. “Enough.” His growl was intense and a shudder ran down her spine. “I’m not coming home. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

Stevie froze. Her blood ran cold and her heart raced. She stared at the broken table, at the cracks his fist had made, and thanked god it wasn’t her jaw.

She tried one last time.

“Dean… I miss you. Sam misses you. We… we can help. You know there’s a cure and we can get you back to yourself if you just-”

He cut her off, spinning around in his seat to face her head-on. “If I just what? Let you rip away the one thing that’s made me happy in my entire fucking life?”

She shivered. “You don’t mean that. That’s the demon talking.”

“Damn right, it is! But there ain’t no demon inside me, Sweetheart. It is me. All me. And I’m finally getting what I deserve. Some fucking R&R. I’m on leave, baby, and I ain’t never coming back.”

A long exhale fell from her lips and with it any hope of saving him. With her silenced, Dean calmed and turned back to the show. Sparkles was finishing her dance and he wasn’t willing to miss another second.

Years of friendship and love flashed behind her eyes and her heart ached too badly for him to survive much more.

She gave up.

Slowly, she stood and closed her eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t move to chase her away, didn’t shout or try to scare her off. He sat stone still and let her lips graze his cheek in a chaste goodbye.

“I love you.”

Unaffected by her whisper, Dean leaned forward and crossed his arms over the table, green eyes focused on Sparkles and nothing else.

It was done.

Stevie walked back to her car, dodging shadows against the milky midnight sky. A blanket of gray clouds had been pulled across the world, backlit by a full moon that wouldn’t make an actual appearance that night.

She could almost feel the cloud cover heavy on her shoulders. She’d come all this way to do one thing and she couldn’t do it. Maybe Sam could get through to him. Maybe Castiel could do some good. Clearly, she wasn’t the one who could break through Dean’s demonic haze. She wasn’t it for him.

A few yards from her car, Stevie yanked her phone out and swiped across the screen. She scrolled past Dean’s name and landed on Sam’s. As her finger hovered, Dean called to her.

“Stevie, wait!”

The ache in his voice was pathetic and she turned to find him running towards her with a crease in his brow and pain in his eyes.

“Please. I…”

He stopped and stared. An arm’s length stood between them and Stevie held her breath. Hope surged around her heart.

“What?”

He took a breath and looked away, unable to meet her gaze. His shoulders fell and every bit of defense dropped away. She saw the old Dean for a moment.

“I need help. I can’t do this much longer-”

If there was more he wanted to say, she didn’t care. Stevie reached for him and he fell into her. Big arms wrapped around her tiny waist and she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He was warm and solid, strong and alive. She closed her eyes as tears threatened to fall.

“Dean… It’s OK. We can fix this.”

She felt his shoulders shake; heard his breathy exhale.

“Please. Help me.”

Pulling back, she smiled up at him softly. “Of course. Anything you need. Anything.”

His grin was devilish and unexpected.

Her eyes grew wide as his fist came into view.

The phone fell, shattering as it hit the concrete ground.

Stevie’s vision blurred and pain spread across her face like a hot web. It took too long to register what had happened and Dean struck again, cracking her cheekbone with his knuckles and forcing a gash to open below her eye.

“Dean!”

Her scream echoed through the silent night but he ignored it, opting for violence over communication. The Mark burned on his arm and Dean attacked again, ripping Stevie off of her feet by the shoulders and tossing her like a rag doll.

The trunk of her car did little to cushion her spine and she crumbled to the ground, limp and seething with pain.

As the gravel dug into the softness of her cheek, Stevie watched as Dean sauntered over to her. His boots moved with lazy precision, knowing she was going nowhere. When he stopped, the boots split apart and he crouched down, leaning in to taunt her.

“You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

His voice was low and mocking, his laugh like a scalpel sliding across her heart.

“Always have. You’re like some goddamned love-sick teenager. Always following me around, always tending to my needs… my… desires.”

She shivered as he dragged a finger down her broken face, lovingly admiring the purple and black mess bubbling beneath the skin.

“Such a sweet creature.”

Stevie fought the churn of bile in her gut and bit back a scream. It would do her little good, she knew. Any clapback would earn her a blow to the head, or worse.

“Such a pathetic… plain… disappointing fuck.”

Tears stung her eyes but the heartache was soon displaced by real pain as Dean wrapped his giant hand around her neck. Without warning, he tightened his grip and stood, lifting Stevie to her feet by the delicate threads of her throat.

Amber eyes bulged. Thin lips spread wide in a gasping breath that never came. She clawed at his hand, digging her fingers between his palm and her windpipe, but it was little help.

Dean laughed.

She kicked.

“Anything I want, huh?” he said again, turning on his heel to slam her back against the alley wall. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

Desperate for release, Stevie mouthed a promise. She nodded, agreeing with her last bit of strength.

Dean smirked and loosened his grip.

Air rushed back into her lungs and Stevie coughed hard. “Please…” Her whisper was raspy and broken. “Anything you need.”

“Are you willing to bleed for me?”

Her body froze; her thoughts clouded.

“W-what?”

Dean pressed himself up against her, and let his hot breath sweep over her lips. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

She shuddered. “I’m- I’m here to bring you home.”

He dropped his hand from her throat and let it slide down her chest. “You’re here because Crowley called you. Told you I was bleeding innocents…” He pushed back a step and fisted her shirt, ripping the worn cotton in a swift motion. “Told you I’m making a mess of things to feed the Mark, to satisfy this hunger inside of me.”

Stevie held herself still, praying that the wall would soften so she could push inside and get away from his touch.

“It wants blood, Stevie… It needs blood.”

The brand burned on his forearm and she felt the heat, felt the evil spark like lightning in the air.

“I need blood…” Reaching behind him, Dean pulled the First Blade free from beneath his shirt and pressed the ancient bone to her neck. “I need your blood. You have no idea how many people I’ve killed. Demons, humans… It doesn’t matter. The Mark needs blood. So do it, Stevie, bleed for me and save them. ”

Stevie held his gaze and her breath. “Don’t- don’t do this.”

Dean growled deeply and laid his hand on her fragile cheek. The Blade pressed in on the left and his fingers on the right. She was trapped and hopeless. Defeated and broken.

“Don’t…”

His gaze softened for a split second and she thought she’d broken through. Maybe, somehow her love was enough to bring him back.

She was wrong.

Dean blinked and the darkness returned. He kissed her lips and her eyes closed. Quickly, he pulled his right hand down, slicing through her flesh like it was nothing.

Stevie’s eyes went wide and her lips formed his name.

The blood flowed and Dean sighed. Sated for another night.

#demon!dean #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #demon!dean x ofc #jacklesversebingo23

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1valentine19 · 1 year ago

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May 22nd, 2023

Monday Evening

Today I went to go get coffee with a friend I’ve known since I was thirteen but haven’t seen since we moved our tassels over to the left and boarded airplanes going in different directions, maybe even different worlds, about a year ago. It’s the strangest thing about moving out; slowly realizing which relationships will last the distance and circumstance, and which relationships you’re actually not willing to lose, as mundane as they seemed to 17-year-old you. To be fair, there was nothing much mundane about this friendship, one built primarily on our shared dedication to our niche and decidedly “alternative” interests and one that was only strengthened after we were traumatized by the same guy during our senior year of high school, although in very different ways.

This friend of mine is a Cool Girl. She goes to art school in Brooklyn now and she smokes cigarettes with her professors and has friends who DJ speakeasies. Her clothes fit her perfectly, even when they’re not supposed to and everything about her seems inevitable in a sort of resigned way. If you had asked 14-year-old me what I thought Cool Girl would be doing in four years, I probably would’ve thought of her smoking in an 80k-a-year dorm while painting a portrait of the guy that supplied her with an abundance of cheap vodka and pills. And I would’ve been right too.

Admittedly, there was a part of me that was surprised, and maybe a little validated, when she reached out to me to meet. I am Not as cool as Cool Girl, but her affection made up for some of it, I suppose. I wasn’t cool, but someone who was, liked to hang out with me. That had to count for something, right?

When I pulled up to her house in my mom’s black honda civic, she walked out with a choppy orange haircut and a perfectly imperfect outfit and somehow even cooler than she’d already been before, now armed with stories of a life outside of the suffocating circumstances of the suburbs. She smiled and opened her arms wide and for a second we were 17 again, driving down to Austin on Senior Skip Day to go to some concert while our classmates got heat stroke at Six Flags.

The plan was to get coffee the way adults do but I guess I didn’t give myself enough credit for becoming looser in college myself (looser, in comparison to high school me is not saying much). When I off-handedly mentioned my weekly routine of taking edibles only to listen to “Plainsong” by The Cure for three hours straight, Cool Girl raised her eyebrow, pulled out a blunt, and we ended up getting high and walking to Walmart instead.

There, in between the toy and technology aisles, Cool Girl told me all about the bodies that had kept her company through the move to the city and warm through her first East Coast winter. She told me about girlfriends who had boyfriends but kissed her like they didn’t and about all the beds across the different boroughs she found herself sleeping in. Or not sleeping in. Affection comes easy for Cool Girl. She has so much love to give, to everyone and anyone who she sees fit for it. She gave it to me, all those years ago in freshman year English class, when she was the first person to ever compliment me on something other than my brains, pointing out that she, “like loved, my hair.”

Affection does not come so easily to me. My longing to be loved is a humiliating ordeal, the depth of my desire vast and expansive. Sometimes when I lay in my bed at night I can hear the ache echo through the chasm in my chest.

I wonder what it’s like to love and to be loved. I turn to look at Cool Girl, who knows. Her hair is whipping about and her arms are waving while she talks. She’s going on about some hipster Brooklyn threesome while Radiohead is blasting from my phone next to us and I’m thinking about how I cried in the bathroom of a frat house when a boy from high school never made it to the Halloween party he invited me to. I don’t even think I ever liked him, either. I think I just liked the idea that he might have liked me.

#spilled thoughts #diary writing

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littledemondani · 3 years ago

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no chaser | andy dolan x fem!reader

word count: 2.1K

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of drug use, public sex, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), finger sucking, slight angst

request: @fckinsupreme asked: Okay but Andy fucking you at a party, on full display, with his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet 👀👀”

a/n: this turned out way longer than i had planned it to. i also listened to no chaser by palisades on repeat while i wrote this, so that’s where the title came from. enjoy!

(gif: @kissxmedeadly)

the bass of whatever popular mainstream song was playing over the speakers thumped wildly, feeling it in your chest with each sway of your hips. your form-fitting, short black dress clung to your skin from the light sheen of sweat you worked up on the dancefloor. you were in your own little world, oblivious to what was happening around you. you couldn’t tell if it was from the ecstasy you had taken earlier on, or the mixed drinks, or both. whatever the case may be, you were just grateful that it took your mind off of andy, though that was seeming entirely impossible at the moment.

ever since the breakup you had been finding it difficult to move on. they didn’t understand the references you made, or know just how you liked your coffee in the mornings, or how therapeutic sitting on the beach during sunrise is. they didn’t have andy’s crooked smile, or the light shining behind their eyes the way he does, or have his laugh. they weren’t him and could never be him.

the dj puts on a different song, and you groan in annoyance, moving off of the dancefloor. you head towards the bar, figuring you could probably go for another tequila shot or three when you feel a hand on your arm, turning face to face with an old friend you hadn’t seen in a long time. the two of you catch up and make plans to have lunch the next day, exchanging phone numbers when you hear it, that all too familiar laugh that causes your whole body to go numb and your heartbeat to race.

andy?

no, it couldn’t be. he had moved across the ocean to los angeles once he became a big shot actor. he swore the night he had left that he was not coming back, that he was done with eden and everything it had to offer him. so why is he back? if it’s even him at all. you shake off your thoughts, looking to your friend to see her gazing at you curiously. you chalk it up to being drunk, say your goodbyes, and continue on to the bar.

ii.

andy had been wandering aimlessly throughout the party, not wanting to associate with anyone, even though he knew he couldn’t avoid it. it was his first time back to eden in almost nine months, and as hard as he tried to get out of going to this party, he had to go for appearances. he thought that it was all bullshit. the lights, cameras, popularity. at one point it was exactly what he wanted, but then he quickly realized it came with demands, demands he couldn’t meet.

it started out innocently at first, using cocaine a little here and there to help him stay awake on set during nights. but then it progressed into something more, something that even he was afraid of, but was too in denial to admit. he started showing up to interviews high, then fighting with his costars and eventually his own management team.

coming back to eden was the last thing he wanted to do, and yet here he was, surrounded by people who had fuck all to do with him before he left, but want everything to do with him now.

he had grown tired of the boring conversations and the awestruck stares. it was always the same everywhere he went. should he be used to it by now? probably. was he? no.

he zoned back in to reality once he heard his name be called. he came face to face with hedwig, giving her a hint of a smile as he made his way to her. finally, someone who wasn’t horribly dreadful.

hedwig teased him, giggling about how utterly annoyed he looked talking to that older man. andy laughed for the first time in who knows how long, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

he puts his arm around her playfully, leading her to the back patio when he sees you leaning up against the bar.

his world stops for a moment, only able to focus on you. you were tossing back a tequila shot, then sliding the glass back to the bartender before downing the second one. his mind kept screaming at him to go talk to you, to see if there was anything salvageable. he figured there wasn’t, how could there be? he left everything a complete mess and you would be a fool to even consider it.

you turn around and make eye contact with him, noticing his arm around another girl. of course he had moved on. there was no doubt in your mind that he had, though you hoped maybe he wouldn’t have. before andy could have a chance, you walked out of the room, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

iii.

“y/n!” andy yelled, leaving hedwig to chase after you. he couldn’t let you leave, not without him getting a chance to explain. he pushed past hoards of people before finally finding you heading up the stairs, taking hold of your arm to keep you from going any further.

“y/n, please listen to me…,“ he says, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“no! andy, there isn’t anything to discuss. you’ve moved on. you have every right to,” you say, avoiding eye contact with him. you know if you do then you’d completely break down, and the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, especially for andy’s sake.

“y/n, that’s not it,” he says, shaking his head.

“save it, andy. just leave me alone.” you finish, your voice breaking at the end. you make to move past him, but he grabs your hand, spinning you around before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

you’re caught off guard, but the alcohol in your system gives you the drive to return the kiss. you groan softly against his lips, your hands finding purchase in his soft brunette curls. as much as you want to kick and scream at him for hurting you, for leaving you, all you want is to keep this moment going and hope that it never ends.

andy breaks the kiss first, gazing down at you with a look of intense need in his eyes. “i don’t want anybody else,” he says, backing you up against the wall, placing his hands on either side of your head. “i’m done running from you.”

you keep eye contact with him, allowing every word he speaks to seep into the pores of your mind. you nod slowly, your hands still clasped in his hair. you pull him close to you, kissing him with more urgency this time around.

he presses you further against the wall, his large hands roaming over every inch of your body. he moves his lips down your jaw, groaning softly in your ear.

“i missed you so much,” he whispers, gripping onto the back of your neck possessively.

you tilt your head to the side, allowing him to have access to your neck. “i missed you,” you breathe, moving your hand to cup his face. “can we take this upstairs? or anywhere else than here, actually.”

he looks around at the crowd of people, all of them either too fucked up to function or too into their own partners to even care about the two of you. “we can stay right here,” he says with a wicked glint in his eye. “besides, i honestly don’t think anyone will notice.”

he brings his free hand to pull down the top of your dress, sucking the nipple into his mouth. he sucks gingerly, teasing the other nipple between two fingers.

you moan filthily, tossing your head back against the wall, lips parted slightly. it had been months since the last time you had been touched like this, in the way that makes your legs weak and eyes roll back. sure you had been with other guys since the breakup, but none of them could make you feel the way andy does.

he gently scrapes his teeth along the hardening bud, flicking his baby blues up to meet your eyes. “part your legs for me,” he orders, getting onto his knees as he does so.

you do as he says, keeping your eyes on him. he grins up at you before pressing wet kisses along your inner thighs. you squirm a little, your impatience starting to grow the closer he gets to where you want him the most.

he rubs his fingers over your clothed pussy, moaning at the slick already on your panties. “so wet for me already, baby girl. looks like some things haven’t changed,” he chuckles, his hot breath fanning over your pubic area.

he teases your pussy with each swipe of his fingers, his cock growing harder by the minute. he finally pulls your panties to the side and uses his tongue to make lazily circles along your clit.

you moan hotly, gripping onto his hair tightly as you close your eyes. he continues to kitten lick your clit for a little while longer before he can’t take the urge to be inside of you any more. he stands up, pressing his lips to yours in a heated, sloppy kiss. he releases his cock from its confines, pumping it a few times as he orders you to jump up.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your forehead to his as you feel the tip tease at your entrance. he enters you gently, moaning loudly as your tight walls surround him.

he thrusts slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size. you look at him with lustful eyes, rolling your hips against his as best as you can. “fucking move, andy. please!”

andy grins wickedly, thrusting into you roughly. “like this? is this what you want?”

you nod, begging him to keep that same, rough pace. he grips tightly onto your legs, his fingertips pressing hard enough to leave small little bruises in the morning.

he couldn’t help how good it felt being inside of you. the other women he had been with in l.a. never let him fully satisfied. they were simply a place to put his dick for the time being and even though he didn’t cum as hard as he’d like to, it was better than nothing.

you yank on his hair, moaning as the tip brushes against your sweet spot. “keep it there! that felt so fucking good.”

“here?” he breathes, lifting you up a little higher on his waist. you nod rapidly, face twisted in pleasure with each thrust.

your moans get louder, reaching your hand behind you to dig your nails into the wall. “oh fuck! andy…”

andy brings two fingers to your lips, pushing them against you before you open your mouth. “shhh, be a good girl and suck on my fingers. you don’t want to draw attention to us, do you?”

you wrap your lips around his fingers, shaking your head as your tongue explores all over them.

he smirks at the sight of you, hair a little disheveled, chest heaving, sucking on his fingers like a pornstar. “that’s it, baby. you’re so fucking hot, do you know that? letting me fuck you at a party in front of everyone. but you like that, don’t you?”

you nod, gazing up at andy with all of the innocence you can muster. you lean your back against the wall, reaching up to pull the top of your dress down over your breasts, wanting andy to see them bounce with each thrust he gives you.

he groans, though it sounds more like a growl, at the sight of your bare breasts. he fucks into you faster, harder, reveling in the fact that he’s claiming you here, right now.

you pop his fingers from your mouth after a while, looking up at him through hooded eyes.

“i wanna cum, andy! please, i’m so fucking close,” you beg, bringing a hand to tweak and pull at your nipple.

“cum all over my dick, baby girl,” he breathes. “let everyone at this party know who the fuck you belong to.”

you roll your hips a little faster, angling your hips so your clit rubs against his pubic bone. you feel the coil begin to tighten before finally releasing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as you toss your head back against the wall. you moan his name loudly, repeating it over and over.

andy smirks wickedly as you cum, not slowing down his thrusts. he releases moments later, biting into your shoulder as his orgasm hits him hard. “fuck…! y/n.”

he rocks through his high, panting heavily in your ear as he buries his face in your neck. you stay that way for a minute, just basking in the afterglow of your releases before andy lets you down, holding you up so you don’t fall over.

“y/n, come home with me,” andy says, gazing down at you with hopeful eyes.

“yeah,” you say, smiling up at him. “i’d love that.”

tagging: @fckinsupreme, @lovelylangdonx, @with-dandelions-in-her-hands, @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern, @angelicmichael, @sojournmichael, @king-with-no-crovvn, @brooklinn13, @femaleantichrist, @this-isnt-madness, @booboomother, @luciahoneychurch, @infernwetrust, @ferndolan, @melodylangdon, @bloodcoatedeclipse, @apocalxpsetime, @plymptxn-reborn

#andy dolan #andy dolan x reader #andy dolan smut #andy dolan imagine #andy dolan fanfic

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emwritesfootball · 3 years ago

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Her Majesty's Men 8 | Mason Mount

Word Count: 1,036

Warnings: there's finally sex

- - -

One Month Later.

You got home from work, sighing as you dropped your keys in the designated bowl and slipped off your shoes. The house felt quiet; empty, without Declan. He’d moved out and gotten his own place a week after the big showdown, and if you hadn’t found him packing up, you probably wouldn’t have even known it was happening. He didn’t speak to you except to let you know that he was planning on touring with Her Majesty’s Men and that he’d found his own place, the discussion so short he didn’t even tell you where he’d be staying. It was the most words he’d said to you since the fight, and now, three weeks after his move, you hadn’t heard a word from him.

You hadn’t spoken to Mason since that night, either. Everytime you thought about him, you got a little flutter in your chest. You’d promised that you’d go out with him, but you weren’t sure what he had planned.

Meanwhile, in Notting Hill, Mason was getting ready for one last show. Her Majesty’s Men were going on tour after that night, and Mason wasn’t going with them. He’d spent the last month getting everything in order: finding a job, upgrading his place, and making sure he was worthy of you. His friendship with Declan had all but fizzled out, his ex-teammate now his ex-friend. Declan was Stonesy’s new right-hand man, overseeing the rest of the men like some kind of crazed lunatic. Olivia - the girl behind the bar - was going with them, glued to Stonesy’s side like some sort of deranged fangirl, but Mason seemed to be the only one who saw that. Everything about this world was tainted for him now. Where he used to see glitz and glamour there was now dullness and lifelessness that filled him with dread. Mason had seen the best this group of men had to offer, but he’d also seen the worst, and the best just couldn’t outweigh the worst anymore.

The atmosphere was charged, heady with possibilities that didn’t include Money Mase. Everyone was staying, except Mason, and even though he felt more excluded than ever, he still had this one night left with them.

Costumes were set, dances memorised. It was time. Sexy Stonesy took the stage one last time.

“Ladies of London,” he started, somber. “You have been so good to us these last few years, and we love you so much. Don’t worry - we’ll be back. We’ve just gotta bring joy to the rest of the sexy ladies of England, but this place will always be home. So. One last time: please welcome Her Majesty’s Men!”

Mason wasn’t there to hear the cheers. He didn’t take the stage with Jacky Boy, Tarzan Ty, Happy Ending Harry, Big Dick Dier, and Dangerous Deccers started to dance while DJ Kyle spun. Instead, he got in his car and drove off to the one place that made any sense to him anymore.

“Did I wake you?” He asked when you answered the door, rubbing your eyes sleepily while wearing nothing but a t-shirt.

“I mean, yes, but no. What’s wrong? It’s not as late as you usually show up here. Did something happen?”

“I quit. Tonight was supposed to be my last night, but when Stonesy walked out on that stage...I just couldn’t do it. I’ve got a new job that I start on Monday, and I got a new place, and I’m here to ask you out. So, will you go out with me?”

“Yes, Mason, I’ll go out with you, but not for any of those reasons. I’ll go out with you because I want you. And, because I promised you that I’d go out with you the next time you asked.”

Mason smiled wide. “And if it goes well?”

“If it goes well, you’ll get your kiss.”

“And if I kiss you now instead?”

You chuckled, ducking your head as you bit down on your bottom lip. “Well, I wouldn’t complain…”

Mason took a step toward you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you into him. “Good, because I’m going to kiss you now. And then I’m going to take you to bed. Can you handle that?”

“Depends on how good you kiss me, Money Mase,” you sassed, smirking as you wrapped your arms around him and dragged him down for that kiss.

It was better than you’d been dreaming about. Since that almost-kiss months ago, it had been all you thought about whenever you thought about Mason. He kissed you gently but with urgency, leading you into your house and pinning you against the wall. You tugged at his shirt, giggling when he paused to remove it and reach for yours. It pooled with his, Mason’s hands sliding up your bare skin. You let out a moan as his lips attached to your neck, sponging kisses down to your collarbone. His hands roamed over your body, reaching to cup your ass and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

Mason carried you to the bedroom, both you smiling and giggling in-between kisses. He kissed his way down your body, paying attention to your tits and sucking on your nipples until you were begging him to go lower. When he put his mouth on your pussy, you cried out, arching your back and gripping the bed sheets. Since he’d last seen you, he’d buzzed his hair so you didn’t have anything to grab onto as he licked at your clit.

He pulled away, smirking triumphantly as he watched you writhe underneath him. Your gaze was focused on him as he pulled off his tearaway trousers, his cock already hard behind the g-string.

“You didn’t!” You gasped, your eyes lighting up as you watched him shake his ass for you.

“Money Mase has one more performance left in him, and it’s all for you, Angel.”

You sat up, reaching for him. “Tell Money Mase that his services can wait for another time. Right now, I just need Mason.” You pulled him down on top of you, reaching between the two of you so you could free his cock and slide it inside you.

<< series masterlist

#her majesty's men series #declan rice imagines #mason mount imagines

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wistfulrat · 4 years ago

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this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely.

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.��

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.

#drarry fic rec #drarry #we live and die for desi harry aka hari poddar bc fuq jkr #a lot of soft drarrys this week but in my defense ive been reading hella angst and my depression was not finding that cute #weekly drarrys

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tonystarksfavoritedaughter · 4 years ago

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Crazy Rich Avengers: Chapter 2

Peter Parker x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tony is oblivious, Shuri is a queen as always, Peter is breakfast man and Y/N’s a grandma

Warnings: swearing and one mention of sex

Word count: 2589

*Flashback to Wednesday*

“Alright troops, let’s get this party started.” Tony walked into the debriefing room that was used for only meetings, but this week it had a new purpose: discussing Wanda and Vision’s wedding plans. Everyone was gathered around a circular table with plans and maps strewn out across the table.

“What made you guys want to get married in Maui?” Nat turned to Wanda and Vision. Wanda simply shrugged, “We just wanted to see what the island has to offer.”

“Plus Mr. Stark has that lovely beach house in Spreckelsville,” Vision added.

“Are y’all inviting Peter and Y/N to the wedding?” Sam asked

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we?” Wanda seemed kind of offended that Sam would ask that. She was very close with Peter and the way he talked about you always made her warm inside knowing that he found someone he really loved. She was kind of like a second aunt to him in a way, though no one could top Aunt May.

“Oh, I love Y/N so much. Did you guys tell her happy birthday two weeks ago?” Nat asked.

A couple of ‘I forgot’’ and ‘Oh shit’ replies made their way into the group and Nat just shook her head.

“Wait wait wait. Who’s Y/N?” Tony was so confused. He had never heard of a Y/N Y/L/N before. Was she an employee close with Wanda? And why was she with Peter?

“What do mean who’s Y/N?” Steve asked.

“She’s Peter’s girlfriend, Stark.” Bucky stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it kind of was. Peter would come into the Compound on the weekends sometimes for training and just gush about you to everyone and even Bucky seemed to know who you were. And he never pays attention to Peter. Tony just sat there, not knowing what to say to hearing his intern having a girlfriend.

“Pete has girlfriend?” How come you all knew and I didn’t?”

Thor took a swig of his drink. “Because you do not listen to the Man of Spiders.”

At this moment Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye walk in, with papers and blueprints in only T’Challa and Okoye’s hands, while Shuri sips her iced coffee, like the bad bitch she is.

“Hey what’s up losers?” She walked in and took the papers from their hands and spread them out on the table. She turned to Wanda and Vision. “Okay so I developed a knew sound system for the reception that does not require a DJ, and you can choose which one you want!” They all look at the plans and sure enough, there were about four different designs that they could choose from. Wanda and Vision had put Shuri in charge of all the technological elements of the wedding because she was clearly the smartest out of all of them.

T’Challa stepped up to the table. “Sorry we are late; my sister had to bring all of her designs and took about three hours to pack.”

“What? I have to look my best for the wedding. We all know you just throw clothes into a suitcase and call it a day.” She turned towards everyone else. “The only shoes he brought were his flip flops.”

“What you don’t like my royal sandals?” He puts up his foot to show off his shoes and turned to Okoye for support. She just shook her head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this, but if I were to choose a side, I agree with Shuri.”

Shuri laughed in T’Challa’s face and fist bumped Okoye and he looked at them and shook his head.

“What do you two know what fashion?” He asked.

“More than you,” they both said at the same time. This got everyone laughing around the table and Steve did his classic belly laugh where he grabbed the side of his chest and basically fell over.

Shuri turned to Wanda, “So, whose all invited to your big day?”

“Well, we invited Peter and Y/N –“

“Yes! Sorry I just can’t wait to meet her for the first time. Go on.”

Wanda laughed, “Aren’t we all? Also, Peter’s friend Ned is invited because he helps us all out on missions. What is it he calls himself?”

“The Guy in the Chair,” Vision replied.

“Ah yes, and of course all of you people. We wanted to keep it small,” Wanda finished.

“You know,” Sam started, turning to the royal bunch. “Stark over here didn’t know that Pete had a girlfriend.”

“What?” They all three gasped.

Okoye spoke this time, “We live all the way in Wakanda, and knew about this. You live twenty minutes away.”

“We know. It’s ridiculous,” Rhodey spoke.

“Okay and is there a specific song that you are walking down to?” Shuri asked.

“We chose the song ‘To My Future Wife’ by Mr. Jon Bellion,” Vision replied

“Oh, I love his songs!”

“We figured it represented our love for each other,” Wanda looked at Vision and gave him a peck on the lips, with hearts in both of their eyes. A bunch of aw’s filled the room as a response to the couple.

*Flashback ends*

You wake up at around three thirty in the morning to your alarm. You were essentially trapped in Peter’s arms and had to pry yourself out to get up and get ready. You threw a pillow at him to wake him up.

“What was that for?” He groaned.

“Come on. We got to get up or we’ll miss the flight.”

He got up with a sigh and got ready. He just dressed in jeans and that tight black t-shirt that you loved. Why would he pick that for a flight? You bit your lip and just turned away getting ready yourself. You picked out your black leggings and a white shirt because you wanted to be comfy for the 12+ hour flight ahead of you.

You packed your purse as your carry on which had your phone chargers, headphones, perfume, you know, the essentials for flying.

“What are we going to do for breakfast?” He asked. Peter was a breakfast man and so deciding what to eat in the morning was very important for him.

“There’s a coffee place at the airport; don’t worry, Pete.”

You left your apartment at around four in the morning and made sure that everything was turned off and nothing was out of the ordinary. You two take an Uber to JFK and almost fell asleep again. One thing was for sure, you were taking a nap as soon as you got on the plane. When you got there, you checked in with the front desk and saw that your flight would take off at 5:30am. So, you took Peter to the little coffee stand in the airport to get him some energy and food. He got a mocha iced coffee with a blueberry scone and you got a caramel macchiato and a breakfast bagel. You sat down near where your flight would be boarding and ate your food. You were so excited to eat because your favorite breakfast item was just a good bacon, egg, and cheese bagel. You bit into it and sighed out in a state of peace.

You had downloaded a few episodes of your favorite shows on your laptop so you and Peter could watch them together. You had downloaded some from The Office, Brooklyn 99, Parks and Rec, and The Good Place. You pulled out your laptop and headphones and gave one earbud to Peter so he could watch too. You decided to watch the episode of The Office where Michael hosts the Fun Run for Rabies.

About an hour later they started to board for your flight and packed everything up and walked over to the flight attendant.

“Right this way,” she said. She led you past the economy class and into first class and you started to get suspicious. There was no way you could afford this. Sure, you had some money put into savings, but it wasn’t much. She led you into one of cabins and you put your purse down.

“Uh ma’am?” You called out.

“Yes?”

“Um there must be some mistake, I mean… we’re economy people. Like, we’re broke, there’s no way that we’re in first class.”

“Are you sure? You two are Y/N Y/L/N and Peter Parker, right?” She asked confused.

“Tony, I swear,” Peter sighed.

“What?”

“I told Mr. Stark to not upgrade us because we were fine, but I guess he didn’t listen.”

“Oh.”

The flight attendant walked away and you fell on the bed. The cabin had a little TV on the opposite wall and the bed facing it. Night tables were on both sides of the bed with little lamps that made it kind of cozy. You walked around the small room looking at the different little pictures of beaches from different countries. There were a set of silk pajamas on your nightstand and you held them up to Peter.

“These are nicer than my actual clothes!” Peter just laughed at how excited you were and pulled you down on the bed. He rubbed your thighs and started to kiss your neck and sucked lightly and slowly worked his way up to your ear and nibbled on it.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I am not having sex on a plane,” you laughed.

He laid down on the bed with you, “Well what do you wanna do then?”

“Tell me about everyone that’s going to be there. I want to be prepared to meet them when we get there.”

“Okay for starters, there’s Wanda and Vision, Wanda has like these mind-reading powers, so be careful about what you’re thinking around her. There have been plenty of times where I’ve thought about you in an adult way that’s caused her to not to be near me sometimes. But she’s awesome. She’s kind of like my second aunt when May’s not around; we’re really close.”

“Good to know. It’s also a good thing she’s not here right now because all I can think about is you in that shirt,” you wink at him.

He laughs and kisses your nose, “Vision is also pretty cool. You’ve seen Vision in like pictures and everything so you know he can shift between robot and human form, so that’s cool. Um, he’s just really chill and laid back. There’s also Sam and Bucky.”

“Oh yeah you’ve told me about them. Do they still tease you a lot?”

“Not much anymore, but I’m sure they will when they see us together,” he sighed. Yesterday when he went to the Compound for his camera, they had mentioned that Peter wouldn’t be getting much packing done if he knew what they meant. Peter did know what they meant and just rolled his eyes at them.

“Sam’s pretty cool when he’s not teasing me, and then he’s kind of a jerk, but overall he’s cool; you’ll probably get along more with him than anyone. He’s got a good sense of humor so,” he trailed off.

“Oh okay. Now what about Bucky?”

“Bucky still doesn’t really like me, all because of what happened in Berlin.”

“Sounds like he’s petty.”

“Yeah he kind of is,” he laughed.

He goes through telling you about all the Avengers and what they’re like. They all sounded pretty chill and fun to hang around.

“By the way, Ned is going to be there.”

“What? Really?” You neatly shouted because you haven’t seen him since about a month before college classes started. He had gone all the way to MIT for college, and the last time you saw him, was when you and Peter had helped him move into his dorm.

“Why is he going?”

“He’s like our ‘Guy in the Chair’ for the team. Tells us where to go on missions, and helps out with the team, so I guess Wanda and Vision wanted him there.”

“At least there will be someone I know and close with,” you laugh at Peter’s fake hurt expression.

“You’ll have me, baby.”

“Yeah, but you’ll probably be talking to everyone and doing wedding stuff and I’ll be just hanging out. But now I have Ned! Now, tell me about Mr. Tony Stark. I know he’s kind of like your father-figure as you put it sometimes. Do you think he’ll like me, or will he go all Papa Bear on me and tell me that I’m not good enough?” You joked.

“He should be cool with you. Mr. Stark’s a pretty easy-going guy so I don’t think there will be a problem. Unless you try to crash the wedding,” he smiled.

“Yeah I’m totally gonna crash it and just get shit-faced at the wedding.” It was now close to seven o’clock in the morning and you and Peter were wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep and still had another thirteen hours to go, so you just pulled your laptop back out and put on one of your shows and cuddled with Peter.

He held your waist against his and laid his head on top of yours. Your arms were wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, watching TV. You stayed like this for a couple of hours. You eventually got bored and started playing a game on your phone.

“Whatcha playing?” He asked.

“Candy Crush.”

He laughed at your game choice. “You’re such a grandma.”

“What? Just because I like candy crush that makes me grandma?’

“Yep.”

You lightly slap his chest as a response and watched his smile turn wide into a laugh. God those eye crinkles, I swear, you thought. It was kind of true though, everyone in your family and in high school called you the grandma friend of the group because you picked crocheting and baking of all hobbies, just like a grandma. And apparently Candy Crush was now considered a grandma game.

“Okay, I’d like to see you beat an ultra-hard level where you only have twenty moves to save 10 gummy bears,” you challenged him.

“Is that seriously a level on there?”

“Yes, and I beat it on the first try. Why, you scared?”

“No, had me your phone.”

You gladly give it to him and throughout the level you have to hold in your laughs because seeing his face scrunch up in frustration may have been the best thing ever.

“Shit!” He exclaimed

“What, did you lose?”

“No,” he lied. You held out your hand for your phone and saw that he lost on the level.

“Ha! Loser,” you poked his chest as you teased him. “It’s a shame you lost though, because losers don’t get prizes.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s my prize?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. “Guess you got to win if you want to find out.”

This time he held out his hand for your phone. “Just know, you got four more chances to win before you run out of lives.” Peter tried so hard at the game and gently slammed your phone in frustration and you giggled. Let’s just say that Peter didn’t get his prize. The rest of the flight consisted of watching TV and eating the surprisingly amazing airline snacks. When the nighttime came, the flight attendants turned all the lights off, kind of like a silent go to sleep call for all the passengers. You and Peter snuggled up against each other and waited for the rest of the flight to be over.

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29 @spideyspeaches @binnotjin @lolooo22 @multi-universe21 @ladykxxx08

A/N: We got an Avengers flashback! Yay! I really wanted to incorporate the Wakandan bunch because a) Black Panther is my favorite movie, and b) They are all just amazing and I love the way that Shuri and Okoye tease T’Challa all the time and wanted to put that in this. The whole Candy Crush scene had actually happened to me before and I thought it would be nice to add a piece of me in the story, and Candy Crush is honestly underrated if you ask me lol. I hope you all really like this chapter, because the next one is going to be awesome! Thank you all for reading!

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x y/n #peter parker series

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fandomdancer · 3 years ago

Text

The Dance

In the year 2169, you are a senior in high school. You've been best friends with the same two young men since grade school. One of them is your date to the senior dance. The other is the class loner: Eobard Thawne. When your date make a suddenly unexpected move, you find yourself feeling like the perfect night is ruined. But then Eobard shows up...

Word Count: 3,754 words

Rating: T, but may be M

Pairings: OC/Reader, Eobard/Reader

A/N: First attempt at a reader-insert fic. Special thanks to @darlingpetao3 @yetanotherwells @wellsaddict and @hawk-lee for listening to me freak out about this, inspiring me, and giving me the courage to actually post it. I hope it's interesting and fun for you to read.

This is Mattobard's version of Thawne, since it takes place during his teenage years.

This fic was inspired by this song (which is the featured waltz in the story). 'Pride and Penance', from World of Warcraft: Shadowlands.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZtBflZHIcQ

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The moment you step into the darkened dance hall, you feel as though you have been transported back in time. In fact, you can’t help but wonder if the organizers of this year’s spring formal are utilizing some of Rip Hunter’s famous Time Couriers to literally open a door to the past. Everything around is, at minimum, dated back a hundred years ago, from the DJ setting up digital playlists to the black-light-illuminated chairs seated around tables littered with drinks, plates of food, and what looks like games. The music right now is from the early 2000s, but you expect the songs to range through decades, possibly even centuries over the course of the night. Multicolored lights hang from the ceiling, giving the place an overall ‘club’ look, accentuated by the powerful underlighting at the bar.

The temperature increases as you enter on your date’s arm, the exertion from the dancing and milling bodies heating up the air in the room. The dance started only thirty minutes ago, but the excitement in the room is palpable, and kids are wasting no time yelling ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous’ as they toss back nonalcoholic drinks. One table is already full of kids engaged in what looks like an intense card game with multicolored discs sprayed across the table in front of them.

Catching the fever of the room, you cast a huge grin up at your date, a handsome young man you’ve known since grade school. The two of you are dressed perhaps a little fancy for the event, with him in a fine, high-collared suit befitting a 20th century aristocrat and you in a deep red 1940s princess ballgown. Overdressing is okay: the two of you were expecting a slightly more ‘ballroom’ shindig, not this ‘21st century club’ event, and upon looking around you can see that other members of your class had similar ideas, wearing everything from 1800s Victorian gowns to military uniforms.

“They did a good job,” your date says. “Though one would think they could have come up with a more original theme name than ‘Blast to the Past’.”

“Don’t cheesy titles comprise part of the charm of last century?” you ask as the two of you move towards the obligatory picture arena. “Wasn’t stating the obvious considered not only funny, but…what was the word…a meemee?”

“Meme. One word, one syllable. And yes. Memes were a rather popular form of communication in the early 21st century, though I guess they started well before that.” Your date eyes the line and the picture-taking arena before them. “Is that….a phone booth?”

You are both intrigued as you watch a couple go into the booth, pulling a curtain shut and separating them from the outside world. Their feet are obvious as they scrabble into various positions, each one punctuated by a bright flash ands lots of giggling. The couple emerges, looking flushed and full of smiles, and watch as two thin strips of plastic emerged from the wall of the booth. The two grab the plastic strips and look at them, giggling as they walk away.

“It’s a photo booth.”

The voice right beside you and your date startles you, and you quickly look over to see one of the chaperones for the event, Ms. Steinway, a few feet away. The young teacher looks stunning in a green floor-length gown, her blonde hair floating ethereally around her shoulders. She gestures. “You go in, and you have five pictures taken of you in quick succession. There’s usually only three to four seconds between each photo so people often planned ahead what they would do ahead of time. You can make faces, or be serious…whatever you would like!”

“Thank you, Ms. Steinway,” you say before looking back to your date. “Well. I guess we have about a minute to come up with five different poses.”

“Why don’t we improvise? We’re both good thinkers on our feet.”

The tension and pressure of racing to beat a timed photo session is appealing to you, probably a side effect of all the time you've been spending lately with your other friend, Eobard Thawne. He has a strong taste for competition and it’s been rubbing off on you in the years you’ve known him.

The sudden thought of Thawne makes you skim the room, wondering if the class loner has actually shown up to tonight’s dance. You’re pretty sure he’s not here; this isn’t his type of thing at all. It’s certainly why you didn’t ask him to be your date. It’s also the only reason why you didn’t ask him to be your date. Eobard Thawne’s proud, handsome figure and strikingly keen intellect has drawn many a girl’s attention over the years, including yours, and you’ve made a concentrated effort to ignore it. But lately, you’ve noticed that he seems to be hovering near you much more often. And he got into a fistfight with your date a few weeks ago…you never did quite figure out what had caused that argument…

Seeing him here tonight would definitely open a lot of doors, however. Perhaps you would be brave enough to ask him for a single dance. He can be a truly arrogant ass but he has always been at least civil to you…probably because the two of you have also known each other since grade school.

Your date pushes you forward and you realize that, as usual, thoughts of Eobard have distracted you for several seconds. It is your turn in the photo booth.

The booth is small and simple, with a little touch screen that simply says ‘go’. A quick glance over the screen shows that presets are in place, with no way to change them. It is a little aggravating to not be able to customize the photos but you suppose that’s to get the line of kids moving quickly. With a quick glance at your date, the two of you reach out and tap the ‘go’ button together.

The very first thing he does is kiss you. It’s so fast and so intense that you don’t even have time to react. Suddenly his mouth is open and wet and moving on yours and his hand is in your carefully-crafted hairstyle and you are shocked beyond words because of all the poses you had considered in this run of pictures, your longtime friend kissing you was not one of them. You’ve suspected he felt this way about you and there was no doubt in your mind that he would be an excellent romantic partner, but you hadn’t really…thought about him like that. In fact, the only person you really thought about like that was…Eobard.

He finally pulls back and looks quickly at the camera, grinning widely. Your brain is fuzzed and rolling with several unfinished sentences and questions, but some little part of you keeps control and turns to smile bright and beautiful at the screen. The two of you make silly faces next, and as you are setting up for what you think is the next picture, the screen goes dark. You realize in shock that he used three of the five pictures to kiss you. Feeling frustrated and cheated, you get out of the booth, pasting a smile on your face so as not to appear angry to the line of kids waiting outside. You’ll have plenty of time to discuss his choices later.

The pictures print out and they’re definitely difficult to look at. The first one shows your obvious surprise, but the second two are worse, showcasing your desperate attempt to keep control of what is happening by grabbing at his face and responding to his kiss. It was not your best decision, but you feel like it was your only choice at the moment – and that realization makes you furious.

The two of you head to an unoccupied table, and the moment you set down the photos you whirl on your date, your insides twisted in knots and your throat almost sealed shut from the force of your anger. “What the hell?”

“What?”

It’s even hotter in this room with your anger charging you up. You are pretty sure your face is the color of your dress. “You kissed me.”

He smiles. “Of course I did. What did you think we were going to do in there?”

Your mouth drops open. “Make faces and smile! When did kissing appear on the list of things to do tonight?”

His brow furrows. “When you agreed to be my date. Come now, you can’t possibly miss all the signs I’ve given you. You know me better than that.”

His self-entitled arrogance sets your teeth on edge and you clutch the table so hard you’re amazed it doesn’t bend. “I’ve known you for almost all of my life and you have never been so rude as to just kiss someone without making sure it’s all right with them! You wait for that kind of invitation! You don’t blindside her during a timed picture taking session!”

“Spontaneity has never been your thing, and I respect that,” he begins to say.

You cut him off. “Clearly not or these wouldn’t exist!” You wave the pictures at him before slamming them down onto the table. You don’t know what you’re angrier about now; being forced into this situation before you felt ready, his seeming blindness to how the whole situation played out, or the fact that you feel like what should have been a beautiful moment is ruined and you are never going to get it back.

A waltz begins to play, the very song the two of you were hoping would be the focus of the evening, and he reaches a hand out to you. “You’re right. I made a terrible mistake. I thought it would be fun and I assumed you would be all right with it. I am sorry. I truly am. We will go have the pictures retaken. But will you dance with me? This sounds like a beautiful waltz and I don’t want to have ruined the night by making a terrible decision right at the beginning.”

He sounds sincere but you don’t answer him at first. Your mind is still awash with anger and betrayal and a sudden desire to be anywhere but in this room right now. You don’t want to just forgive him for doing this to you. But you also don’t want the night to be ruined, and right now the song playing sounds like it could be a wonderful dance and you aren’t sure how many more will be played with the selection of music likely being offered. Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his.

“We aren’t done with this conversation,” you state firmly.

“Of course not.” He twirls you gently. “But this song fits you and I want to see you dancing to it.”

You don’t know the name of the song, but it has a haunting melody to it, almost ghostlike with sliding violins. Waltzes always have a kind of built-in grace to them, a slippery seduction meant to make it easy to move to. But this piece has an additionally dramatic vocalist that elevates the rhythm to something royal and aristocratic. You can almost imagine the two of you (and the couples that are joining you on the floor) dancing in the hall of an ancient, grand mansion while a dark storm swirls outside the floor-to-ceiling windows and the dry fingers of tree branches curl menacingly in shadows on the floor, trapping the dancers’ feet in their grip.

“Pardon me.”

The familiar voice snaps you out of the daydream you are drifting into, and you rock slowly back and forth in your date’s arms as you realize Eobard is standing in front of you two. Your breath catches and your heart rate picks up instantly as you look at him. He looks as though he has stepped straight out of your daydream: a young lord trapped in a dying manor, cloaked in high-collared black and red with the light shimmering blindingly on his short blond hair. Even more shocking is the dramatic flair he has added to the outfit: a full-length black cape fastened at his neck with a ruby. He is too beautiful to touch and yet your hands…and other, sweeter, deeper parts of you…ache as you stare at him.

His eyes sweep over you and you think you see his jaw clench slightly before he speaks again. “May I cut in?”

“You’re in our way, Bardo,” your date growls, all softness and politeness gone from his voice.

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Eobard responds to him but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Your throat is growing dry from the simple intensity of his gaze. “I was addressing your partner." He nods to you. "May I cut in?”

You finally register what he is asking, and the thrill that races through you makes you shiver. You had thought you might have the courage to ask him to dance if you had seen him here, but him asking you is completely unexpected. Saying no to him might prevent him from asking again, but saying yes would probably send the wrong message to your date.

Then again, your date certainly sent you the wrong message when he forced you to kiss him in the photo booth.

It’s a very simple question with a very simple answer.

“I would be honored,” you reply, trying to sound as cool and proper as possible. As you pull away from your date, you feel his hands clench briefly on you. You quickly look up at him, seeing the betrayal in his eyes. At first you feel smug, but then you remind yourself that he did apologize. You give him your best comforting smile. “We’ll continue this later,” you say to him, making his expression soften just a little. But the look he gives Eobard is poisonous.

Eobard’s expression doesn’t change. Instead, he unfastens the cape from around his neck and whips it dramatically off, draping it unceremoniously on your date’s still-outstretched arms. “Would you be so kind as to place this on a nearby chair?”

Redness floods your date’s face, and you start to open your mouth to scold Eobard for his rudeness, but his hands grip you firmly and he spins you away into the dancing crowd before you can say a word. Your feet scrabble as you try to keep up, and you have a feeling he’s trying to get you as far away from your date as fast as possible. Focusing on your movements, you catch his rhythm and begin to move in time with him, gaining control over yourself while still permitting him to lead. You’re angry enough now that you’re tempted to just walk out the door after this dance. When did your two best friends turn into such boys? They’re acting like you’re a prize in a competition and while that might be flattering, it’s making you feel a bit like an object and not like the lady you want to be tonight.

“You dance well,” Eobard compliments.

You roll your eyes. “You dragged me out here and I just got my balance back. Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers. “I mean what I say. I saw you trying to dance with your date over there. He was trying. You were succeeding.”

You snort and sigh. “I wish the two of you would tell me why you both seem to have lost your minds lately.”

Eobard tilts his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your heart pounds and you know what you hope the answer is, but coming right out and saying it feels like a such a terrible risk. Eobard’s emotional difficulties make him dangerous sometimes, the wrong word or look pushing him away for days at a time. You are not going to ruin this night, this dance, this moment that has been playing in your dreams.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” you say, trying to put an innocent look on your face. You aren’t sure if it works or not, but the hard look in Eobard’s eyes softens somewhat, and he guides you around the floor. Looking up at him, you surrender your mind to the daydream, milking this moment for all it is worth. The seductive waltz paints the image of a great hall, decadent in its decay, the memory of opulence just as romantic as the opulence itself. And Eobard, cold and proud and throat-achingly beautiful, spins you around it, commanding your body with his touch, and commanding your mind with his eyes.

“Your friend and I,” he says in a low voice, “are both seeking your approval.”

Dear God, he actually said it. You’re almost dizzy with excitement as you frantically think of how to navigate the next few sentences. Honesty is going to be key. “You have a funny way of showing it. First that fistfight a few weeks ago and now tonight he just kisses me out of the blue and then you drag me off like I belong to you or something…”

“He did what?” Eobard stops the two of you cold, and you blink, looking up at his grey eyes, watching in surprise as they turn stormy and dark. His pale face begins to flush as he gazes down at you. You can’t tell if what you’re seeing is anger or not, but as his eyebrows draw together you feel your insides flutter. It’s more than just anger. It’s jealousy.

Eobard is jealous.

The realization makes your throat close and you swallow several times as adrenaline floods your veins. The possibilities open up in your mind, and you suddenly realize that while both men are, in fact, treating you like a prize, you are still the one in control.

“He kissed me for our photo,” you say carefully, letting the frustration and hurt show on your face. “I didn’t know he was going to.”

Eobard looks at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his face continuing to grow red. His hands tighten on your waist and hand, and a strange excitement blooms in your chest. Eobard Thawne, so aloof and elitist, suffering from the simple emotion of jealousy. And jealousy related to you, because he’s seeking your approval. Despite the heat of the moment, you find yourself fighting a smile.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks tightly.

You know the truth and you know what saying it will mean. But right now, you are unable to lie to him, captivated by the thrill of his reaction and the intoxicating crescendo building around you.

“No.”

Eobard’s chin lifts and a smug satisfaction fills his eyes as the music crescendos loudly. With a climactic crash of drums, he decisively pushes you out into a firm spin, and then brings you back in, his hand slipping to the small of your back and holding you flush against his body. And for one fiery, fierce moment, you realize that you can feel him, dear God, all of him, pressed possessively against you, and a weakness makes your knees wobble and your mouth go dry as you stare into his eyes, only inches away, and realize what he is silently saying to you.

Then the two of you are moving again as he takes everything up another notch, whirling you both within the crowd as though you have all the space in the world. The music pounds with your steps, pulsing inside of you, the melody a full-throated cry from the whole orchestra, igniting adrenaline and fire within you. Your mouth falls open to gasp for air as your eyes drift closed. You don’t need to see, only to feel the clutch of his hands and the heat of his body and the light pressure on your waist as he leads you.

And then, in one powerful beat, the music stops. Eobard pushes you backwards into a dramatic dip, holding you up while your hands claw at him. You can’t see the ecstasy on your face but a few gasps from the people around you suggest that the two of you may be in a very compromising position. You don’t care. Your body is shaking and tingling. You feel sweat dampening your skin, and the heat…you’re drowning in it. But you don’t want to move. You don’t want it to be over. Most of all, you don’t want his hands leaving you. Ever.

Your breath comes in heavy gasps as he draws you up to your feet. He steadies you, and your eyes finally drift open. The sight before you makes you shiver again. Eobard is breathing just as hard as you are, and has the same slightly dazed expression on his face that you are feeling. You vaguely realize that while you were trying to keep your balance you gripped his hair and shirt because both of them are bunched and mussed. But neither of you can look away from the other for several seconds.

Finally, he is the first one to move. He gently straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He brings his heels together and reaches for your hand. He bows, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“Thank you,” he says, “for the lovely dance. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need some air.”

You nod slowly. “I…think I do too.”

Something sparks in his eyes, and he offers you his arm. You consider taking it, but the sensation that sweeps through you as you realize what the implications are stop you. You are awash in powerful emotions now, enough to know that if you go with him, you’re going to do something you want…

….oh do you want….

….but on impulse, caught up in the moment.

You know you need to gather yourself. The night has only just begun.

“I will see you back in here,” you reply, offering a polite curtsey. It isn’t a blatant rejection, just more of a ‘not now’. Eobard seems to understand and his withdraws his hand before turning and striding for the door.

You head for a different exit, catching a glimpse of your date just as you leave the room. His face is a thunderstorm, and you feel a slight chill that cuts through the hazy fog of your mind.

The night has only just begun, and you have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.

#eobard thawne #eobard thawne x reader #reader insert #mattobard #matt letscher #fanfiction #i love this song so much #how could i not write a story to it

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invisibleraven · 3 years ago

Text

And so the feeling grows

Pairing: Julie/Luke/Reggie

Rating: T

‘But for now let me say, without hope or agenda, Just because it’s Christmas- (and at Christmas you tell the truth) to me, you both are perfect’

A Rukebox Love Actually AU!

On AO3!

So, little known fact about Bethany; one of her favourite holiday movies is Love Actually. I watch it every year without fail, and while I know parts of it haven't aged well, I still love it so.

But the part that everyone knows? The scene where Mark uses the signs to confess his love for Juliet? I've always had a problem with that, given the whole... infidelity aspect. So I decided to fix it by making it polyamorous! And what better throuple than my OT3 to do that with?

So this is me, fixing the Mark/Juliet/Peter storyline and making it Rukebox. Enjoy, and I hope you are having a safe, fun, and loving holiday season. Remember that likes and reblogs make excellent Christmas presents!

Three weeks until Christmas

Cheers went up as Luke and Julie entered the hall where their engagement party was being held, their hands clasped tight together, smiles bright on their faces. Reggie trained his camera on them, trying to capture every moment, how happy they were together, how beautiful a couple they made. He sighed, taking them both in, then shook himself, training the camera on the happy couple once more, only putting it down once Luke approached him.

“Reggie! Dude this looks incredible, thank you so much for planning this party!”

“Least I could do as your best man.”

“And you resisted the urge for surprises?” Luke asked.

Reggie scoffed, “Of course, I’m grown up now, I’m mature.”

“Unlike Alex’s stag night.”

“Unlike then, yes,” Reggie conceded. “I mean, the strippers were nice at least.”

“I think Alex would have appreciated them more if they were men.” They shared a glance and burst out laughing, recalling Alex’s face when the scantily clad women had approached him offering him a dance. A quick call to the agency had some Hot Cops arriving moments later, but the girls had stuck around and had turned out to be big Sunset Curve fans, so it all worked out in the end.

“Sorry Reggie, can I steal away my fiancé? I have some relatives I want him to meet,” Julie asked as she came alongside them. Reggie gave her a taciturn nod, shaking himself as they walked away, going off to find the buffet table, given the appetizers the catering staff were circulating did not look appealing in the least.

Later, Reggie sat, filming the dancing, watching Luke twirl Julie around the dance floor, their smiles radiant, the lights catching on the diamond adorning Julie’s finger.

“Do you love him?”

Reggie whirled to the side, seeing Julie’s friend Carrie sitting there, an expectant look on her face. He quickly shut off the camera and stammered “What?”

“I just thought I’d ask the blunt question, in case it was the right one and you needed someone to talk to about it and no one had ever asked you about it so you’ve never been able to talk about it even if you wanted to,” Carrie said without stopping for a breath.

“No… No. No is the answer. Absolutely not,” Reggie said, though he was sure the blush on his face may be giving him away.

“So that’s a no then,” Carrie said, crossing her arms and shooting him a disbelieving look, but rolled her eyes when he nodded. “Okay then.”

“So what do you think of this DJ then? Worst in history?” Reggie asked as the Bay City Rollers came to an end.

“Oh probably, though I think it all hangs on this next song.” When the strains of Puppy Love started they both let out a groan.

“That’s it, he’s done it,” Reggie stated.

“Worst DJ in the world. I’m surprised though, Luke is so into music, how did this even happen?” Carrie asked.

“Well the guy I had hired cancelled at the last minute, and apparently this was the only replacement they had. Next time maybe I should just ask Dirty Candy to perform,” Reggie said.

“You couldn’t afford us,” Carrie said, getting up and flicking her hair over her shoulder as she walked away.

The night was drawing to a close, and the happy couple were making the rounds to say goodbye when Reggie gave the signal to Alex, who grinned with a thumbs up. The first strains of La Marseillaise played, Luke and Julie looking around confused until Alex started singing ‘All You Need Is Love’. Luke turned and looked at Reggie, who was filming innocently, and gave him a huge smile. Julie clutched onto Luke, beaming as all of their friends and family started singing, until the song was over.

Luke rushed over to Reggie, enveloping him in a hug “I’m so glad you didn’t resist one surprise, thanks man.”

“One more surprise left actually.” Reggie motioned them to the marina they were adjacent to where a small boat was waiting, bedecked with lights and a romantic picnic was waiting. “The captain is on board and will take you around the bay, you have the boat for the night. Enjoy.”

Luke hugged Reggie again, pressing a sloppy bro kiss to his cheek, and started tugging Julie towards the ship. She waved at Reggie as he filmed them leaving, their thanks still ringing in his ears as they pulled away from the docks. Reggie finally turned the camera off as the lights faded from view, and sighed before turning back to the party.

Two weeks until Christmas

Reggie knew he wasn’t supposed to be on his phone while he was at work, but the gallery was empty aside from the few school girls who liked to giggle at the nudes on their lunch break, so he figured it was okay. He and Luke had been catching up, and planning their next gig, though their day jobs had kept them from getting any new songs written lately. “How about Thursday at my place?” Reggie proposed. He walked past the gaggle of teenagers and shook his head, quietly saying to them “You know they’re not funny, they’re art.” Unfortunately that just set the girls off in a massive peal of laughter once more.

“Thursday sounds good, I’ll double check with Alex, but I think he said he was free all week. Okay, I gotta go. But Reg? Julie wants you to call her, can you do that please? And be nice,” Luke said.

“I’m always nice.”

“You know what I mean Reggie, be friendly.”

With that Luke ended the call and Reggie grimaced at the phone. Okay, so he wasn’t the warmest towards Julie, he knew that. But he had hoped that Luke would never really notice. He wasn’t mean, or rude, and he had his reasons, but obviously he needed to do a better job of playing the best friend when it came to the girl said friend was going to marry. He dialled Julie’s number and waited for her to pick up.

“Reggie?”

“Julie, hi. Luke said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes I did! First I wanted to thank you for the amazing engagement party, and that gorgeous send off! It was so romantic, I can’t thank you enough. But I did want to ask you a little favour.”

“Sure.”

“Well I noticed you filming a lot during the night, and I wondered if I could have a copy of the footage. It was just such a special moment and I’d love to have the video.”

“Oh, I um, didn’t get that much really, and I’m no professional.”

“Please Reggie, I would really appreciate it,” Julie pleaded.

“I-I’ll see what I can do, I think the file might be corrupted, Listen I have to go, bye.” Reggie ended the call and leaned down, hands on his knees as he started breathing heavily. He knew what the video looked like, he had watched it often enough, and there was no way in hell he would ever let Julie Molina see a second of it.

One week until Christmas

A few days later, Reggie was kicking back with a bowl of ice cream, and enjoying the latest Christmas hit by some aging rock star or another when his doorbell rang. He scowled a little, he had been hoping for a quiet night in, but the fates had seen fit to interrupt his lazing. He was sure it was someone collecting for charity and prepared his speech for turning them away, but when he opened his door, there stood Julie.

“Butterscotch pie?” She offered, holding up a serving box, a towering pile of meringue atop the slice.

Reggie was sure his nose crinkled up at the thought, but she was marrying Luke, so of course she would have equally terrible taste in sweets.

“Um, no. No thank you.”

“Thank goodness, I would have cried if you said yes, I had to go all the way to Pasadena for this.” Julie smiled brightly and barged in, setting down the pie and turning to face him. “I was wondering if you still had the file of our engagement party video? I was hoping I could trade it for some pie, or something.”

“Oh um, I hadn’t really looked, it’s been a bit hectic,” Reggie stammered.

“Reggie, can I say something?” Reggie gave a nod, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Look, I know you and Luke have been friends since you were kids, and I know you’ve never really warmed up to me.” When he looked like he was about to protest, Julie held up a hand “Don’t argue, we’ve never really been friendly. But I hope that can change. I’m nice, I really am, in spite of my terrible taste in pie, and I would really like it if we could be friends.”

“Ab-absolutely. But I still don’t think I have the video, I think it got corrupted and I deleted it,” Reggie stated. Julie traipsed through the room before she sat at his desk, spinning in his chair before she looked at the desktop.

“So it’s not this file labelled Jukebox engagement… wait Jukebox?” she questioned, eyebrow quirked.

“Julie plus Luke equals Juke, and well, you both like music and sing so much… Jukebox. It just seemed fitting,” Reggie replied, rubbing the back of his head as his face tinged pink. "Alex came up with it."

Julie shot him a disbelieving look at that, knowing Alex's hatred for couple names, but didn't question it, just turning back to the screen. “That’s adorable. But can I please have a look?” Julie’s lips formed a pout, and her eyes pleaded, causing Reggie to sigh and nod.

“You know I’m not your dad right? It’s only amateur footage.”

“Reggie, my dad has seen and praised your work for ages now, and you know it. Your work gets shown right alongside his at galleries. You are so talented, and even if it is amateur footage, it’s still going to show one of the happiest nights of my life so far, and that’s worth it to me,” Julie said, resolute, and opened the file. Reggie couldn’t bear to watch, turning away as she made a little gasp of happiness. “Oh this is perfect, thank you so much Reggie!”

“Oh, I look quite pretty,” Julie stated, and Reggie had to bite his lip, finally turning so he saw the screen, filled with her; her smile, her hair, her dress. “You stayed rather close, didn’t you?” she joked as frame after frame was her. Then her face slowly fell as she kept watching. “They’re all of me.”

“Yeah… yeah… yes.” Julie watched herself be taken away by the boat, waving at the camera with a jubilant smile on her face, then turned to see a crestfallen Reggie.

“But… you never talk to me. You always talk to Luke, you don’t like me!”

Reggie’s eyes were watery as he sniffled. “I hope it’s useful. I wouldn’t show it around too much.” He began to walk away, towards the door. “I have to… go. You can show yourself out.” He stopped, then turned back to her once more. “It’s a self preservation thing, you see.” With that, Reggie grabbed his jacket, and left through the door.

Julie sat there, too shell shocked to chase after him, and turned back to the screen. All this time? But then she saw it, the Jukebox engagement Part 2 file, and with trepidation, opened it up… and the screen was filled with Luke. Luke's smile, Luke's arms, Luke, Luke, Luke. “Oh god,” she whispered. She got up, and raced out of the apartment, the file still playing on the computer, her pie forgotten on the counter.

Reggie was miles away, cursing himself for being so foolish, for not deleting the file, for ever letting his traitorous heart lead him towards yet another unattainable love. He had almost gone back so many times, but then again, he had also almost confessed his love to Luke so many times as well over the past fifteen years, and look where all that almost had gotten him? It was hopeless, to be so in love with two gorgeous, wonderful people, knowing that his heart would still yearn, even if neither of them spoke to him after today. He was sure Julie was running off to tell Luke what a creep his best friend was, perving after her or something from the moment they met. He figured he could kiss his friendship with Luke goodbye, his place in the band. Why… why did he have to go and fall in love with Julie of all people? The love for Luke he could deal with, suffer in silence, but this? Now that it was out, he knew it would ruin him. Reggie squared his shoulders before letting them sag, and dragged himself off to wallow in misery, and maybe drown his sorrows in a few festive drinks.

Christmas Eve

Julie and Luke were curled up on the couch with a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie playing, Luke grumbling a little over having to watch it, but content enough with Julie in his arms. Even if the both of them still felt like there was something… someone missing. Their conversations the past week had ranged on one sole topic, and while now they knew what they wanted, and how to handle the difficult conversations to come, the person they most needed to talk to was avoiding them. They resolved to let him come to them, lest they scare Reggie away, but Luke had also said if they hadn’t heard from him by New Year’s they were tracking him down. Suddenly the sound of the doorbell rang through their home and with a glance between them, Julie got up.

“I’ll be right back and then we are going to finish the movie,” she stated as she traipsed off towards the door. Luke rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but also paused the movie before picking up his phone to scroll through his social media.

Julie had fully expected there to be someone collecting for charity at the door, given it was Christmas, and hoped she would be able to send them on their way quickly. However, when she opened the door, there stood Reggie. As she opened her mouth to greet him, he held a finger to his lips, then held up a sign.

‘Say it’s carollers’

Luke called out “Who is it?”

Julie looked at Reggie, his pleading expression, and gave him a minute nod. “It’s carollers.”

“Give them some money and tell them to go home out of it, it’s cold enough to freeze your Winnebago!” Luke called, and then Julie heard the sounds of loud metal sounding Christmas music coming from the television as Reggie pulled out a small speaker, playing a plaintive Christmas song. He then straightened up, and started flipping through his signs.

‘With any luck, by next year,

I’ll be going out with one of these people’

The next sign had an array of attractive celebrities, both male and female, and Julie stifled a giggle. Especially since most of the guys were scruffy musicians and all the women seemed to be Latina or black. Apparently Reggie had a type. He flipped to the next sign,

‘But for now let me say,

without hope or agenda,

Just because it’s Christmas-

(and at Christmas you tell the truth)

to me, you both are perfect’

At this, Julie sucked in a gasp, and Reggie’s eyes were so full of love that she had to grasp at the door frame. She wanted to call for Luke, so he could witness this gorgeous, heartfelt display, but she felt that if she uttered a word, Reggie would leave, and they would never figure this out. Though the sob that tore out of her throat at the next few signs couldn’t be held back.

‘And my wasted heart will love you-

both of you

Until we’re all dust and our ghosts haunt the Earth

Merry Christmas’

“Merry Christmas,” Julie whispered back, as Reggie dropped the sign to reveal he was done. He gave her a weak double thumbs up, and then gathered his signs, his speaker going into his pocket just as the song ended, and with one longing look at Julie, began to walk away. He thought he heard her call out, but he resolved to keep moving.

“Enough, enough now,” he promised himself, breathing out lightly, a cloud of steam escaping as the temperatures dropped.

“Reggie!”

Reggie squeezed his eyes shut, because that wasn’t Julie, it was Luke calling his name, and he had been dreading this moment for so long, knowing it was the death knell for his friendships. He wanted to keep walking, to keep avoiding the inevitable, but he knew he owed Luke the chance to slug him, or demand an explanation, so he turned. Only instead of finding Luke looking steaming mad, he found Luke and Julie smiling as they caught up to him.

“Reggie…” Luke started, but then thought better of it before grasping Reggie’s cheeks in his hands and brought their mouths together in a kiss. Reggie froze for a moment, unsure of what was happening, but figured he had better enjoy this kiss before Luke’s apparent temporary insanity wore off. He dropped his multitude of signs, threading his fingers through Luke’s shaggy hair, tugging lightly as he began kissing back. Luke gave a low growl in his throat, nipping at Reggie’s bottom lip before kissing him again and then pulling away, loving the flush that had overtaken his face.

Julie then grabbed the gobsmacked Reggie by the chin, pulling him down to kiss her, and he seemed to melt into it, licking over her teeth and tongue almost immediately, savouring her flavour. Julie wrapped her arms around him and clung to Reggie for dear life, his kiss powerful and passionate enough to turn her knees to Jell-O. She was sure she looked astounded as he pulled away, blinking at her, then turning to stammer at Luke “Wh-what’s going on?”

Luke gathered the signs, finally picking up the one proclaiming his love for them both and looked at Reggie from underneath his ridiculous eyelashes. “Why don’t you tell us Reg?”

Reggie gestured at the sign, “It’s all right there.”

“For how long?” Luke asked.

“Since we were kids,” he said, looking at Luke, then shifted his gaze to Julie, “And pretty much from the moment we met. But I never thought…”

Luke gathered his hands into his own, Julie clinging to his side still. “Reggie, I have always loved you, but it took Julie and I talking to realize that I’ve been in love with you for so long. We both have. But I think-I think between the three of us, we can find a way to work this out, make everyone happy.”

Julie started pulling them both back towards their house, smiling brightly. “Come on Reggie, we can talk over some cocoa and then you can finish the cheesy holiday movie we were in the middle of.”

Reggie grinned at that, “I love cheesy holiday movies.”

Julie’s smile got even brighter as they reached the doorway that would lead them into their future. “Well that’s it, you’re my new favourite now, sorry Luke.”

Luke squawked, but then let his face settle as he shrugged. “That’s fair, I mean, Reggie has always been my favourite.”

Reggie bit his lip as the two of them squabbled playfully, pulling him inside, and he grinned as they caught him under the mistletoe throughout their home on the way to the kitchen.

Christmas Day

Reggie awoke slowly, blinking his eyes as the gentle light of day streamed softly through the curtains. There was a weight on both sides of his chest, and glancing down, saw a pile of curls over his heart, and a mop of bedhead over the other side, their breath rising goose bumps on his skin. He grinned, tightening his grip on both of them. He was sure last night had been some heartbreak fuelled illusion, there was no way that he had his every romantic fantasy fulfilled.

Yet, here he was, surrounded by the two people who had held his heart for so long, who somehow, loved him back. They had talked long into the night, discussing their feelings, and how they would make a relationship between the three of them work.

"But you two are engaged!" Reggie had argued.

Luke just gave a shrug, gripping his hand tight, Julie holding the other just as firmly. "So we wait, and if it all works out, we marry you too."

Julie shook her head at that, though her smile was fond. "Luke, you can't low-key propose before we even go on our first date."

"My answer is still yes," Reggie whispered, face flushing. Luke grinned wide, and Julie had a faint blush to her cheeks as she murmured a tiny okay. From then, things had devolved into confessions and kisses, and layers being lost. Reggie let them take him to bed, let them love him, use their bodies to prove that they wanted him with them, and he was going to be kept by them for as long as he was amenable. Reggie wondered if they'd mind him sticking around forever, but given the soft smiles they had given him before falling asleep, he thought that maybe they'd be okay with that.

So the next morning, Reggie was sated, loved, and the happiest he'd ever been. Luke was still asleep, but Julie was slowly sniffling awake, her eyes fluttering open and giving Reggie the sweetest smile as she awoke. "Morning baby, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas darlin'."

Luke snorted himself awake, grunting as he took in his two lovers, then beaming. "Well this is a great way to wake up. You’re comfy Reg.”

Reggie snorted at that, and rolled so that Luke was off of him, turning and snuggled further into Julie. She giggled and shoved him away. “Come on you two, let’s get breakfast on the go before Alex and Willie arrive so we can do presents.” It had become a thing since Luke and Julie got together that they did a breakfast gift exchange between friends so they could do their family time in the evening, and all the presents were sitting under their tree already. Reggie had Alex drop his off earlier the week, having no intention to come himself. Now he was glad he had, so he could be with his loves as they opened the gifts he had painstakingly chosen.

They rolled out of bed, Reggie borrowing some pyjama pants and a shirt from Luke, hugging Julie from behind as she made coffee while Luke handled the eggs. Reggie placed a sloppy kiss to Julie’s cheek before going off to start the toast when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” he offered.

Alex looked a little confused when Reggie opened the door to the house, and then his eye scanned his outfit. “Are… are those Luke’s pyjamas?”

Reggie blushed, and started stammering an answer when Luke came up behind him, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Toast is done baby.” He glanced up, and smiled at Alex and Willie “Oh, hey guys, come on in, breakfast is pretty much ready.”

Willie grinned and hung up their coats, “Oh thank fuck, you three figured it out finally!”

Alex was still lost, looking at Willie, then back at Luke and Reggie. “Figured what out?”

Willie shot Alex a look, gesturing to where Julie had now joined the guys, wrapping her arms around Reggie’s waist, laying her head on his shoulder. “Babe, seriously, did you not get how crazy these three were for each other and how deep in denial they were about it?”

Alex looked at Willie, then back at the trio, Reggie giving a feeble wave, then back at Willie. “Seriously?” He threw his arms up in the air and stalked off towards the kitchen. “Why does it make so much sense? Also Luke you damn well better have made bacon!”

Later, well fed, sipping hot chocolate and cider, Alex still kept looking at the trio, all cuddled together on the couch as Luke crowed over the vintage albums Reggie had found for him. They all looked so insanely happy together, contentment radiating off of them. He had never thought about it, but now he saw how it all came together, how much more clear this made everything, and how well they worked. He settled back in Willie’s arms, despite the insufferable display of kisses happening on the other couch, and pressed a kiss to the underside of his husband’s jaw.

Reggie spied Alex finally relaxing, and smiled softly, leaning into Luke’s embrace as Julie handed out her stack of presents before she settled back into his arms. His signs from the night before sat behind the tree, Julie proclaiming them to be the best present she could have gotten, but she did appreciate the photo album Reggie had given her, especially when she opened it to find it filled with images of her family and friends. He had promised her that there was lots of room for her to add photos of the three of them, and she promised to hold him to that. Her ring still caught in the lights of the tree, but the sight no longer filled Reggie with ugly, hurt feelings. Just the remembrance of the promise they had made the night prior, and he silently wondered how Luke and Julie would feel about a winter wedding some day.

#my stuff #writing #fanfic #rukebox #peterpatterlina #julie and the phantoms #merry christmas

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a-crash-in-time-collection · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: Ghost Dad Worries

The morning sun shone through the forest's leaves, a gentle breeze removing some weaker leaves from the trees. It was mostly quiet in this part of the woods, outside of the small things that came each time the hoof would make an impact with the earth. The young prince sighed as he took in a breath of the fresh air, and slowly, the laughter of children in the village he was approaching. It felt so great to finally be home.

AJ pulled back on the reins gently after they had past the bridge, the horse slowing to a stop gently as he prepared to get off. He hop to the ground, grabbing the reins and tied them to a nearby post. "Take a quick rest, Bay. I will return once I get the flowers." He said, petting bay's brown fur. The horse let out a slight huff, looking to the side as the prince smile, leaving as he took a glance around the town.

He felt so wonderful to be here again. While the place his school was located had quite the beauty, it could never match the feeling of being home. Nor did it have the same wonderful people. He caught a group of three children playing with a ball. He chuckled as one pointed him out, him waving with a smile as he walked past. He found himself staring up at the sky, the warm sun like a ray of life and hope.

He soon spotted his disation, the florist shop. There he would garb flowers for his lovely Vanessa and- he froze slightly. Something was wrong. Things weren't going to turn out right. Even if he just picked flowers from somewhere else, she would still accuse him. His legs became shaky as he tried to calm down. It's ok, you're ok. Don't let what already happened ruin the light for you. Just-

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" The scream was like shattering glass in the middle of the night, waking the ghost jolted right awake from his dream that had been becoming a nightmare. After he got himself to slow his breathing, his eyes instantly laid to the source of the scream, a shaking figure wrapped in the best blanket he could find. Glowing yellow tears falling onto the ground. "NO! PLEASE! I DON'T WANNA DIE!"

"Shadow Kid!" He said, quickly picking her up and pulling her into a hug. "It's ok- ow!" He said, when the child's reaction was to punch him in the chest in confused terror.

The child glanced up at him with a gasp, her eyes shaking slightly as more tears fell from them. "Snatcher?" She asked, her voice so small and meek compared to how it was just seconds before. Snatcher nodded as he floated back to his chair where he was sleeping, holding her close. "I-I.." The child stumbled. "I-I s-saw you frozen. T-The evil queen froze you then shattered you in front of me! S-"

"It's alright kiddo.. just a nightmare." Snatcher sighed, trying his best to stay calm. A small part of him was pounty he had to be woken up early, but he shoved it to the darkest corners of his mind. "That witch is still in the manor. She can't get to us now. She never will."

The child's breath slowed after a small bit. Her tears did as well. "I don't like nightmares.. they feel too real.." And sleeping in a closet was probably not helping with that. In Snacter's defense, he was slowly working on getting a 'second floor' grown into the tree for the child's bedroom, but it's only been a few days since he adopted her, so things were going slow. "What should I do to make them stop?"

"Well, you could always scare someone so you get the mindset you're in charge of scaring!" Snatcher piped up, it helped him out every now and again after all. The child looked confused by his request and just glanced to the side. "Right... sorry. You're not.. crazy like me. That won't work."

"I don't think you're crazy." Shadow Kid said, wrapping his ghostly tail around herself. Great, now he's got the kid trying to consuel the adult. Another great example of his parenting skills. He was so sure Shadow would just be another Hat Kid once the manor scares passed, allowing him to get a Dad plan ahead of time. But he was blind. Shadow was so different. Not that it mattered to him that she was...

"I am compared to before. But let's not talk about that..'' He could see the child look up at him, mainly as the words 'before' left his mouth. Peck, she was going to start asking questions. "You shouldn't worry about that after all. I'm your Dad. I watch and worry about you. I steal the souls of anyone who dares try to harm you. You don't need to worry about me at all, kiddo." He said, a small smile on his face.

"But what if I need to.. steal a soul?"

Snatcher froze for a moment there. On one hand, a part of him was happy by the idea. He could teach her soul stealing, it'd be great bonding time, and it could protect her later on! But at the same time, he knew it likely wouldn't be something she liked. The way the question was phrased was enough to tell that. "You don't need to worry about stuff like that right now, alright?" He asked, tilting her head up slightly.

Shadow Kid nodded. "If you say so... I just want the nightmares to stop.." she said, wiping at her eyes before any tears can form. Snatcher felt upset at the scene. And useless. After watching over the dwellers and minions for the last he didn't know how long, he just assumed he would be a great dad to any ghost child. He was wrong. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't be bugging you about it. I just... want to be happy."

"Boss?" A young voice piped up, Snatcher glancing at the minion who appeared. "Is the princess ok?"

"Yeah.. Yeah she's ok. She's my daughter, why wouldn't she be!" Snatcher playful chuckled, holding Shadow Kid in a more casual way. When he first introduce the child to the other ghost children, the minions quickly latched onto the fact that she was now, techoanlly, the princess of Subcon. They had been calling her 'princess' ever since. He honestly wasn't sure how to feel about that nickname...

"Oh, well, I heard a scream so I felt I had to check it out!" the minion claimed proudly, getting a chuckle from Snatcher in response. There was a small yawn, and Snatcher looked to see the child in his lap falling asleep. "You know, not to be rude, boss, but we noticed you've been struggling with your new responsibility the last few days."

Snatcher sighed slightly, waiting in a few minutes of awkward silence until he was sure Shadow Kid had fallen back asleep. He didn't want to say something that might upset her by mistake. "I would be lying if I tried to deny I have been. I thought having a kid would just be a piece of cake, especially since Shadow here doesn't need to eat or drink. Yet... it's been harder than I thought. I wish I had an idea how.. from someone other than a child." He gave the minion a knowing glare.

The minion shook their head slightly, with a yawn. "Well, you're the boss of things, so I can't make any good calls. Maybe there's someone who may have any idea out there... Welp, night!" The minion waved, before leaving the tree. Snatcher sighed as he looked down at his daughter. Maybe the minion was right... Maybe there was someone out there who would help him.

-------

Snatcher watched from his chair, letting his daughter play in little pool of water the tree had become surrounded in over the years. He was a bit paranoid when he first found her in it, but it wasn't deep enough for her to be stuck. And although she likely wasn’t the best swimmer, she seemed to know enough of the basics to stay afloat. Still, he kept an eye on her, rolling his eyes as a minion splash in the water beside her. It was a nice small distraction from everything. Although he couldn't stay distracted for long.

"You found what-" The DJ's voice brought Snatcher's attention back to the phone he summoned out of thin air. DJ Grooves was the only person he could think of that morning who might help him, so he had reluctantly given the penguin a call. "You're saying that all this time, the little darling had a piece of her own soul stuck here. And we've never known?"

"Don't get any ideas, Grooves. She's my daughter and you will need my consent before you throw her into any of your movies. Don't worry, same for Conductor." Snatcher warned, his slight finger wag could be heard over the phone. He sighed as he floated up, beginning to pace with the phone in hand. "But yes. Apparently she hid from me all these years and only came out recently." He found her, but he wanted to make her sound brave.

DJ Grooves chuckled on the phone. "Well, it's good the little superstar finally came to you, then." DJ Grooves, as one may expect, didn't know too much about Snatcher's past or the manor. But he knew just enough to know what the ghost child's fate could have been. "I do have to say, I'm really happy for you! Having a daughter is one of the most wonderful things in this world, after all." He chuckled.

"That's part of the reason I'm calling, actually.."

"Huh? How come?" DJ Grooves asked. Before Snatcher could respond, he heard a small giggle in the background, and felt a small pain in his soul. He could hear the Penguin place the phone down briefly, likely going over to share a small moment with his own daughter. He only saw the child a few times, but the relationship between the two of them seemed so perfect... "Sorry about that. Also, you seemed so happy about the idea of having her when you first called."

"Well... it's just... I'm failing as a Dad!" He nearly shouted, having no other real way to put it. Hopefully he didn't blow the Penguin's eardrums out. "I kept trying to bring my 'ghost that makes people sign contracts and then kill them' ways to her. I know it's dumb, but the other minons and dwellers seemed so used to it that I thought it'd be ok!"

"Well... I'll be honest, that isn't the smartness move on your part." DJ Grooves said, and Snatcher gave a slight glare to the phone. He knew the penguin was judging him for even thinking about bringing those topics up to her, but he just couldn't help it! Then again, that was the reason he was calling, so it wasn't like he could judge him in return. "She's just a child after all, if she does want to do those things with you, it'll likely be in the far future."

"Assuming she ages... but that's not all..." Snatcher amdited, sighing as he sat back in his soft chair. "Even when I try to treat her like I treated Hat Kid when she was young." As in treated her like a timeline version of Hat Kid where he didn’t try stealing her soul. "She doesn't seem too interested in other stuff! She... hasn't even called me Dad yet.."

"Relax, darling, she will be alright." DJ Grooves said, trying to calm the phantom over the phone. He never really saw this side of the ghost before, the closest he ever got was the last time they all saw Hat Kid back when she was first on this planet. Back when she swept them away from her spaceship. It was strange to see this side of the ghost, even a little unsettling. But he stayed claimed. "It took Dineanna a little over a year to call me Dad. Or to talk at all."

"I suppose..." Snatcher sighed, quickly waving his hand slightly at a minion who noticed him. "But I just... I don't know what to do. I was... hoping you might be able to give me some father pointers?"

"Well, I'm honored that you thought I would be your best choice." DJ Grooves chuckle slightly, as Snatcher rolled his eyes. He was the only father he knew personally. Well, that wasn't fully true. He glanced at the shadow child slightly, smiling faintly as he heard her giggle faintly. "But I'm not sure I can do much to help. She's 7 or 8 and Dineanna is only three. I don't know much about taking care of a child that age."

"Great..." Snatcher sighed, feeling tired slightly. "Is there anything you can tell me, anything? I need to... be better for her."

"Well... Maybe you should learn how Hat Kid was raised. Maybe that will give you some ideas?" As soon as those words came over the phone, Snatcher already knew what was going to be said. He didn't want to deal with them, especially the one...Looking over to the side, he got ready to hang up the phone. "Maybe go ask her, like what things helped her through hard times. What things calmed her down. Or you could-"

"You can say ask her Dads, but I'm not doing it." Snatcher said, glaring at the phone.

"Well... I don't see why you don't." The penguin asked. "They raised her ever since they found her, the little darling must have had some truma they needed to help her get over. They're bound to know the right things to do for someone like Hat Girl or Shadow Kid to be happy, and see you as a father as well. Besides, if- huh, oh right. I need to go darling, I have to head to the studio as soon as breakfast is finished, and I don't want to waste time with my family."

"Fine..." Snatcher sighed, using the opportunity to hang up the phone. And to resist the urge to throw it at the wall nearby. "They'll be the one who knows what's best for her? Yeah right, that kid was covered in scars when she got here! They couldn't have had her in a safe place when the rocket of thier's crashed!?"

Although, he really didn't have much of a choice here, did he? He sighed as he floated to the exit of the tree, watching Shadow Kid poke at one of those glowing mushrooms. The fact he tried to kill something so much like her before was crazy to him... the fact it was crazy to him was insane. He sighed and glanced to the side. "She deserves the best possible from me... Minions! Watch Shadow while I'm gone!" He shouted, to the surprise of many nearby.

The first one to snap out of the shocked state sluted him. "Yes boss! We promise nothing in rain, snow, or fire will come and harm our princess! You can count on us!" A few others shouted in agreement as he just nodded his head. He gave a small smile and wave to Shadow, who looked slightly confused, before turning away and beginning to head through the woods. To the one place where he could get help.

-------

"What do you mean Reg-Hats is busy?!"

"'e's T'e c'eif, did you expect 'im to not be busy?" Right Hand Man sighed, adjusting his position on top of the station.

Snatcher sighed as he looked around the place faintly. The toppats were doing a decent job of things, at least as decent as they could this early on. The kids and teenagers were close together, Snatcher having to glance away once he saw Hat Girl talking with her brother. He glanced back at the cyborg. "Look, I don't know how your clan works, but I need his help so do me a favor and call him here."

"Can't do t'at" Right Hand Man said, shaking his head with a sigh. "'e's In a meetin' wit' some of t'e ot'ers about 'ow exactly we can repair t'e station. You know, make it to w'ere we can go 'ome? W'atever you need 'elp wit', surely it can wait."

"Look, techally I can ask you it, but I rather speak to him about it." Snatcher admitted as he look at the cyborg, who rose a brow faintly. He glanced down at the ground, well, there was no way getting out of this now. The half metal man would just push him to answer if he tried to hide it, after all. "It's... with Shadow Kid... I may or may not be needing some help with her. And was hoping you could help."

"Only a few days and yer already gettin' the tried dad moments?" RHM chuckle, taking in the simple information.

"Shut it." Snatcher said, giving the cyborg a glare. How dare he assume that he would get tired of his own daughter. She was the most perfect and pure thing and she... deserved so much. Especially after everything that happened to her. He looked to the side, then backed at the man. He didn't like looking at him for too long. "I'm... having issues raising her right, I can't seem to get her to see me as a Dad."

"Really? That's the issue?" RHM asked, a little surprised when he heard that.

Snatcher sighed in defeat. "Yeah... I figured that since you two raised Hat Kid and she came out fine, that you would help me get her to see me as a Dad." And to be a better father overall, but he didn't want to admit that aloud. He was trying to act like he didn't care too much about it all, he couldn't let anyone see him acting kind... weak. "So, I suppose I should ask what stuff she would like."

"'ow Am I supposed to know t'at?" Right Hand Man asked. When the ghost first showed up and came to him, he found himself wanting to do anything else. Now he found himself wanting to see how this would go. "Can't tell ya what yer daug'ter would like or not like after all. 'er 'nd Hattie, despite t'eir connection, are two completely different people at t'e end of t'e day."

"Perfect, just perfect!" Snatcher stated in frustration.

The cyborg signed, shaking his head to the side. "Look, I can't give a better answer t'en t'at, ok?Even if she acts similar to 'ow Hattie was now, she's goin' to c'ange into 'er own person. T'e second she took 'er own form, 'er and Hattie were set on two completely different paths. Any tricks I've learnt over t'e years as a fat'er isn't goin' to be of any real 'elp to ya." Right Hand Man said. "'nd Don't go buggin' Reg for a different answer, 'e would tell ya t'e same."

"But... Hattie seems to care so much about you two!" Snatcher said, and now his desperation was becoming noticeable in his voice. "You two seemed to do a perfect job of raising someone like her. And you say it won't work for me... What should I do then." He sighed as he grabbed his head, trying to think. "I shouldn't have just adopted her on instinct. I should have prepared myself before I..."

Right Hand Man chuckled at that. "Bold of ya to assumed I was prepared." The ghost gave him a confused look. "It was a few days after we first found 'er. 'ad To go 'elp Sea Division for one day. T'e second I came back Reg told me 'e adopted 'er. 'nd S'e was already callin' 'im Dad, so t'ere was no goin' back."

Snatcher let out a chuckle. It felt nice to hear about the man's struggles. But, in a sense, it felt relieving to know the man had similar issues to what he had. "Really?"

"Yea'. I t'ought it was 'opeless, to be 'onset." Right Hand Man admitted. "I'm a fig'ter. I could easily be a murderer from 'ittin' cops wit' my bat alone! I didn't see myself as a good fat'er figure. I didn't brot'er tryin' to c'ange because I knew I couldn't."

"If you didn't change, how did you get her to see you as a dad?" Snatcher asked.

Right Hand Man sighed, a small smile formed on his lips. "Well... I guess I slowly tried to get us used to eac' ot'er. Allowin' 'er to bug me wit' questions to me looking for her if Reg got worried. I t'ought that was all our relationship would be. But one day, she came up 'nd asked 'Papa. Can ya 'elp me finis' t'is one puzzle.'" The cyborg chuckled. "'nd As soon as those words left 'er mouth, I knew I was doin' t'ings right. And it instantly became one of t'e best moments in my life."

"So... I should just... let us both try and get used to each other." Snatcher asked. The cyborg gave a shrug in return, allowing the ghost to sigh. "Well... for a man that got turned into half machine, you do seem to know a lot.. thanks."

"Anytime, I suppose..." he glanced back where the teens were, seeing Platinum backup from that 'Van' kid while Hat Girl was laughing. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the ghost wasn't as bad as he thought... Still, he wasn't going to drop his guard around him anytime soon.

The two were there silently for a few moments, before Snatcher let out a clearly fake cough. "Well I suppose I should be going! Have to make sure those minions didn't get into trouble with Shadow..."

"Sounds good. I need to go check on how the solar panel repairs are goin'." Right Hand Man stated to the ghost. He hop off the top of the station, blasters under his feet activating and keeping him in the air. He floated to another side of the station, not even bothering to say goodbye to the phantom.

Snatcher didn't let that bug him... he had a job to do after all.

-------

"Snatcher!" The young girl's voice brought worry into the phantom's soul as he approached where his tree was. He speeded up his pace, worried inside. Until the sight entered his vision. "One of the Minions got themselves stuck in the ropes!"

"Again?" Snatcher sighed triedly as he went over to the hanging minion. He ignored the nouses' calls and gently poke the minion free. "You all need to stop going up there. You can't die, but you can still get hurt!" He schooled as he floated down to the ground.

"Sorry boss. The princess just wanted to see how strong it was, so I volunteered to-!"

"I didn't tell you to do anything." The shadow child corrected meekly, glancing at the monon in confusion. "You told me 'Wanna see a trick I can do' and got yourself stuck."

Snatcher chuckled a bit, a small grin forming on his face. "Well, looks like you are guilty, aren't you?" He asked. The minion just nodded his head, before beginning to walk away. Snatcher smiled at Shadow Kid. "Good on you, kiddo. Best to call out people like that as soon as you can. Make them know it's not smart to try and lie their way out of everything!"

Shadow Kid giggled slightly. She then glanced over at the tree she and Snatcher called home, looking up slowly. Her eyes seemed to gain a bit of awe to them, and a look of mystery. She looked back at the ghostly prince. "I wonder how things look from the top of the tree."

Snatcher glanced up at the tree. With how tall most of the trees in the forest were, he forgot his was a special case. Going beyond the human, and ghost, eye. He looked down at Shadow Kid, a smile forming on his face as an idea popped into his mind. "Why don't you and me go find out?" He asked, picking her up.

She let out a gasp. "Really?!" She asked, as Snatcher reached behind himself, placing the child, his child, on his back.

"Let's go!" He said, and began to float up. Admittedly, he could probably just float right up to the top right away if he wanted too. Would only take about 12 seconds. But he decided against that. It would be better to take things slow. Shadow could end up having a fear of heights, and he wanted to be as close to the tree for when he would need to make a quick turn around to get back onto the forest floor.

Shadow Kid glanced around in a bit of awe. Everything somehow felt bigger, but also smaller from all the way up here. She felt like she was as powerful as Snatcher! She found herself reaching for a purple mushroom, when her eyes caught onto an orange glow. She looked in the distance, and saw a tower that looked like it was filled with fire! Tilting her head a little more, she soon saw one so similar, but with ice poking out in every direction! "Woah! Snatcher, what are those!"

Snatcher paused when he heard her voice, glancing around to see the two towers. "Oh! Well, to be honest. I don't fully know.”

"Wait, there's something here you don't know!?" The child asked, her surprise making Snatcher flich.

He chuckled faintly as he turned so she could get a better view. "They've been there as long as anyone can remember." Snatcher explained, a calming tone to his voice. "But no matter how close you try to get to them, you never can get there. It's almost like they exist in a different reality altogether. Some even say they might be the remains of the Moonjumper's work."

"Moonjumper?" Shadow Kid asked, as Snatcher started to float up the tree again. "What's the Moonjumper, is it like a cow or something?"

Snatcher had to hold back a laugh at that. "No, no Shadow. He was a figure of Subcon folklore that supposedly protected the forest years ago, until one day he was just... gone" He shrugged slightly. "Who knows, one day I might get around to telling you those stories.."

"I think that would be nice. He sounds almost as cool as you!" Shadow Kid called, allowing a small smile to form on the phantom's face.

It took about half a minute to finish the trip up the tree, the phantom having sped up faintly since Shadow Kid didn't seem bugged by the idea of heights. He soon floated on top of the giant mushroom top that grew from the tree, placing Shadow Kid down. The child let out a gasp, spinning around like the mist and snowflakes around them. She soon stepped a bit near the edge, sitting down as she looked at the, a bit foggy, view.

"The forest looks so beautiful from up here." She said, a soft smile and faint blush appearing on her face. She looked over as Snatcher went beside her, mimicking how she was seated the best he could in his current form and size.

"Yeah... I wish you could have seen it when it was alive..." Snatcher sighed, as he looked at her. "Such a beautiful kingdom... that might be yours one day."

"Huh?" Shadow Kid asked, tilting her head to the side faintly. "But.. you can't die?"

"No, I can't. Already done that after all." he chuckled slightly. "But I could still have the chance to move on one day. Now, I don't see that happening anytime soon, especially willingly. But, if it does happen, I need someone to watch over the forest for me. Someone who won't let the dwellers and minions get hurt." He looked at her, giving her a small smile. "And who better to watch over it than my own child."

"But... I'm not like you.. I want to be but I can't." Shadow Kid sighed, looking at her hands. Not noticing the surprised look that dawned Snatcher's face. "I can't steal souls or cast spells or anything that you can do. What if.. I can't do a good job?"

"My little Shadow..." Snatcher said, reaching for her, gently pulling the chipped soul into a small hug. "You're kind, bright, and full of hope. That alone is enough to make you the best Queen Subcon has ever had one of these days." He glanced to the side. "Although, when you're a little bit older,I suppose I can try and teach you some tricks. Would that work?"

Shadow Kid let out a gasp, nodding happily. She quickly hugged him. "That would be perfect! Thank you Papa!"

Snatcher's world slowed from a moment, everything became a blur except for his little bundle of joy he held in his hands. A bundle of joy he could no longer see himself existing without. She called him Papa... she called him Papa.... He smiled as he wrapped his tail around her faintly. "Of course, my little shadow."

It was the best moment in Snacther's entire existence.

#the henry stickmin collection #a hat in time #ahit fanfic #henry stickmin fanfic #ahit the prince #shadow puppet #ahit snatcher #ahit snatcher’s minions #ahit dj grooves #ahit oc #right hand man #hat kid #hat girl #topbot #henry stickmin oc #tw nightmares #tw past death

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misterewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Intro to.....????

Hello everyone! Been awhile. It's been busy and really hot for me so it's hard for me to sit down to write sometimes.

But it's here!

E here with the next chapter and the final intro character chapter! The intro chapters were supposed to introduce everyone to the main and important characters of the story, who will be driving the main plots and stories though sometimes i might use new characters or different background characters. So beyond this chapter will be more worldbuilding, story arcs and oneshots. just stories about this world and its characters. I might even use some of my friends ocs i accidentally convinced them to make for my world. It was so much fun!

Alright that's it for me! Stay safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, take care of your loved ones, get vaccinated if you can, push to release the vaccine worldwide and have a great week! Enjoy! feel free to leave likes, feedback *I love feedback and comments even if it's just a line you liked or a scene you found awesome or funny* reblogs and tell your friends! Promoting myself still feels weird haha. E is out! Byeeeeee

If you want an easier time to read the story and since I’ve been shadow banned from tumblr for like ever now, here’s the newest chapter on ao3 right over here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/82583164

If you are interested in my work and want to read from the beginning check it right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Interested in my full catalog? https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Jackdaw is a powerful crime lord in the magical side of Newton Haven. He is feared more than respected and he doesn't care who he has to crush to accomplish his goals. So when his lucrative club is burned to the ground with his guards piled neatly outside, battered broken but alive, he takes it personally. Of course who is crazy enough to burn down a club of a notoriously dangerous crimeboss? A mercenary paid to do so.

Obviously.

----------

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps pacing back and forth thundered throughout the silent room.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

No one said anything. No one could say anything given the disastrous failure of the night. It hadn’t mattered if they were physically present at the site of offense or that they were scattered across town in one of many locations vital to the boss’s business: Someone hit them and the boss was itching to hit back.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

“Alright” A voice spoke up, smooth yet cold.

The room was already quiet but now the air filled with a frighten tension.

The boss whirled around from the massive window he’d been staring out of, eyes narrowing on the defeated group of guards who averted their gaze from his.

The few still conscious were in varying states of dishevel and injured: Broke bones, nasty bruises, clothing ruffled and torn in places. Not a single one had gone unscratched from the assault on the club earlier that night.

Jackdaw was not pleased.

No one in the room knew much about their boss despite devoting their lives to his cause: He was in his mid 30’s, his nose uneven after being broken in a fight though no one could agree what he had been fighting. Long wavy raven black hair ran down his shoulders while his dark brown eyes glanced about, icy and piercing.

“I’m a little confused.” Jackdaw said with a menacing drawl as he approached the closest guard “Mind answering a few for me?”

The guard nodded shakily.

Jackdaw smiled, patting the guard’s cheek in a mocking manner “Good, good. Now let me paint the picture: My club is currently a smoky, charred corpse of its former self. Yes?”

The guard gave another timid nod.

Jackdaw puckered his lips thoughtfully “Okay, okay. How many guards on duty?”

“8.” The guard murmured fearfully.

“Okay. How many standing?”

The guard shot a nervous glance to the other three. They found the floor more interesting.

“F-four.”

Crack!

The guard’s limp body tumbled backwards and laid still on the ground.

Jackdaw flexed his fingers “Wrong! I count three. You!”

The next in line flinched but stared their boss in the face “Sir?”

“Since that one.” Jackdaw lazily motioned to the unconscious man “is sleeping on the job, you tell me what happened.”

“O-okay.” The next in line mumbled “Well the night started same as any other….”

----------

The Gray Waves nightclub brought in a decent crowd for a weekday: Dozen or so people lost in the dim shadows with only a disorienting array of ever changing lights for company. Drinks served and the booming, thundering sounds of music set the chaotic mood clubs thrived on.

Nice peaceful night.

Floyd, the current storyteller, had been watching from the second floor landing when he noticed the gathering of guards below. The eight guards on duty were often out and about performing their different duties ranging from gate keeping the door to making sure nothing disturbed the vibe of the club. The fact five of his coworkers were huddled together should’ve been the first red flag.

The group talked in hushed tones despite the deafening bass and techno music the DJ’s speakers blared out. Once or twice, someone glanced to the far end of the club. Floyd looked and found the source of meeting.

Someone in their forties was loudly drinking at the counter tucked in the shadowy part of the club: It was impossible to tell who they were from this distance but they clearly were enjoying themselves: Head tiled back with messy, wavy salt and pepper hair. They gestured to the bartender (A wonderful woman named Carolyn who unfortunately had school debt to pay off and mob work was the best paying.) excitedly as their drink spilled onto the floor. They wore a large, tattered dark green trench coat that had seen better decades with faded worn out blue jeans. Their black boots were caked with grime and dirt that dirtied the floor. The only thing remotely new was their black t-shirt with some words in white font.

Floyd understood what the problem was: Clubs thrived on their popularity and image. People wanted to feel like they were special, all access stars to the hottest place in the city. With such a reputation came a mighty need to uphold said rep. No offense to whoever was having fun over there but with that look, it might send the wrong message and no amount of cash would ever change that.

Evidently a plan was reached as the meeting broke up. Two guards remained behind, returning to watching the room as the pit boss made his way over to the hapless customer, flanked with back up.

It was oddly satisfying watching the pit boss work: He gracefully slid in and out of crowds, slipping through the lost dancers like a snake treading through water. He motioned to the others to wait then made his way to the person.

The person was singing something at the top of his lungs. Drink, clink or something like that. Maybe it was the song playing at the time but Floyd hadn’t been paying attention to that at the time.

Trench Coat slipped Carolyn something and she laid a bottle of alcohol on the counter beside them: Vermouth? Absente? Vodka? One of those probably.

She nodded gratefully and disappeared into the back.

Floyd frowned at the red flag number two he had just seen: Carolyn was a pretty woman and was told more or less to just do as the customer asked be it answering questions or a reasonable request that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. Of course this was with the strict rule of not to leave the counter unattended.

At the time Floyd thought it was weird, not yet realizing what was about to unfold.

The person poured the bottle directly into their mouth, shaking their body to the catchy beat poorly. Whoever they were could not dance to save their life.

The pit boss, Malcolm, closed the distance between himself and his prey. He snuck closer and closer, the unaware customer too lost in their antics to noticed. Malcolm reached out for their shoulder and…

The thud was loud enough to cut through the noisy club and got the attention of everyone present.

Before Malcolm could even tighten his grip, the person struck: They whirled around, grabbing Malcolm’s head and smashing it into the counter. As Malcolm sunk to the floor, limp and unmoving, the person turned to shoot a smug grin towards the guards.

“I’m on the floor, floor! I love to dance!” They sang, one hand outstretched to the sky, the other gripping the bottle upside and draining its contents onto the counter.

The back up drew their weapons, standard issue nightsticks, and made their way forward.

“So give me more, more, till I can’t stand.”

They emptied the bottle, their green eyes never leaving the approaching guards.

“Get on the floor, floor, like it’s your last chance.”

They chucked the empty bottle into the wall of drinks, broken glass and different alcoholic drinks spilling onto the floor and mixing together.

“If you want more, more, then here I am!”

They pulled a match from within their coat pocket and lit it with the backside of their boot. Without looking, they threw the match over their shoulder and smiled as a raging flame broke out behind them.

The club goers were slow to realize what was going on but the remaining guards, Floyd included, mobilized to action.

Before anyone could react, however, an unexpected shrill shrieked throughout the building: The fire alarm designed to be the most annoying and loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Even though it had been a slow night and only a dozen or so people were here, the customers panicked with a surge of three times that number.

Screams and yells filled the air as bodies shuffled about in a mad dash. The guards were thrown about, tossed this way and that while the lights, alarm and music worked together to confuse everyone.

Luckily the club was deserted within moments, leaving only security and the troublemaker.

The person hadn’t moved an inch despite the increasingly raging blaze behind them.

The back up pair approached carefully, unsure what this person was capable of.

All of them really had no idea.

The person raised their hand to the sky, belting with full force “LET’S DO THIS ONE MORE TIME!”

Without warning, silence and darkness filled the club: The fire alarm and music died suddenly. The lights followed a moment later but the raging flames, growing hungrily, remained. Floyd’s eyes watered with a sharp pain, the stuffy air and sudden shift in lighting too much for him

Floyd paused his story, uneasy growing at the sight of Jackdaw’s tightened jaw. The poor lad could actually see the veins pulsing with barely contained rage on his boss’s forehead.

“And why did the power go out?” Jackdaw asked through clenched teeth “No one was watching the power? Or the fusebox? Not a single person was guarding what I pay them to guard?”

Floyd remained silent, unsure how to answer that. He was just one of the lower rank and file guards: He got told what to do and he did it.

“Well? I’m waiting Floyd my boy! Why did the power go out?”

Floyd felt the beads of sweat run down his neck.

“Umm sir?”

Floyd nearly collapsed as one of Jackdaw’s techies nervously stepped forward, a loaded video on a tablet in hand.

Jackdaw blew a loose strain of hair out of his face and took a moment to slick back his hair. The vain gesture was enough to allow him to regain some level of composure as he snatched the tablet from the techie. With a grunt, he pressed play.

The video was short: It was a camera feed set up to watch over the fusebox to prevent tampering. Two guards were gesturing to the box, idly chatting with somebody in a red jumpsuit with a clipboard in one hand and a toolbox in the other. The back of uniform had the words “Newton Haven City Maintenance” scrawled across it in some rather hard to read font. The guards laughed out loud, jokingly patting the stranger’s shoulder before leaving frame. The city worker opened the fusebox and began tinkering without anyone stopping him.

The tablet crunched nosily as Jackdaw’s grip sent a ripple of cracks across the screen.

He turned to the techie.

“It was a routine check up.” the techie sputtered out “Our guards called it in this afternoon. Said there was an official letter with stamps and signatures and everything!”

“Did you check with me?” Jackdaw snarled “Because I pay the city specifically so they don’t send anyone to the club. Because of my illegal business practices that I perform there.”

Floyd could see the techie’s shoulder slump, whispering quietly “You were in a meeting….”

Jackdaw growled furiously but returned his attention to the nearly broken tablet.

It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes for the mysterious city maintenance worker to finish. They slammed the fusebox closed, doing a little jig before checking the contents of their toolbox and went on their merry little way.

Jackdaw’s blood froze as the figure gave a cheeky wink to the camera, knowing exactly where it was despite the magical wards in place to keep it invisible.

“Savant.”

An eerie emptiness replaced the hostility in the room.

The fight disappeared out of Jackdaw, leaving only an intense sense of dread and paranoia.

All this was lost on Floyd, who saw the troublemaker’s face and couldn’t help but blurt out “That’s them! The one who beat up Malcolm and burned the club down!”

Jackdaw chuckled darkly “Oh. Oh this makes sense. No one wonder you all get your ass kicked six ways to Sunday. Someone sic’d Savant on me. Ya’ll never had a chance against them.”

Floyd shuddered, the memory of how brutal and efficient Savant had been against them: Grown men dragged kicking and screaming into the shadows, the crunchy noises of bones broken, bodies falling down and yells stopped mid-shout. He still remembered Savant standing over him, nightstick in hand, whistling cheerfully as they brought down the weapon and sent him into unconsciousness.

“Alright!” Jackdaw clapped his hands “Lock it down!”

Everyone glanced towards one another, unsure what exactly the boss meant.

“LOCK IT DOWN!” the snarl that escaped Jackdaw’s lips sent goosebumps down everybody’s spine “NOW! I WANT THIS PLACE SEALED UP NICE AND TIGHT!”

“But we’re 14 stories up...”

Techie flinched as Jackdaw whirled around, eyes blazing with unrestrained rage and impatience “You deaf? I said lock down the building or so help me I’m going to use you as a human shield when they start coming for me.”

Techie opened his mouth when an unexpected sound filled the silence: A muffled, cheeky yet tacky melody of a cellphone ringing.

Glances and gazes looked about trying to find the source of the disturbance. Floyd was baffled when he realized it was coming from inside his coat pocket. Nervously, he reached within and slowly pulled out a palm sized flip phone, the kind hadn’t been used in decades.

Jackdaw’s eyes widened with fear and alarm as he snatched the phone from the poor guard with inhuman speed.

“It’s them!” Jackdaw’s voice was manic “IT’S THEM!”

The mobster was torn about what to do next: Answering meant playing right into Savant’s hands and whatever the mercenary had plan. On the other hand, not answering would no doubt annoy them into far worse retaliation.

With a hard shallow, Jackdaw answered with an uncharacteristically shy “Hello?”

He could feel his heart screech to a stop when a bored, almost nonchalant voice replied “S’up.”

Jackdaw threw as much charm and cheer into his voice “Savant, buddy! Pal!”

“Don’t.” the voice sighed tiredly “It’s pathetic when the begging start. You’re a big, bad mob boss. Act like it you dumbass.”

“Fine” Jackdaw let go of any sense of civility “Good old threats: if you so much as show your face around…”

“Ugh too much in the wrong direction” Savant replied, seemingly uninterested in what the mob boss had to said “You people are all the same: False bravado and overcompensating. It’s embarrassing. Just say you’re scared of me and we can move on.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Jackdaw couldn’t help but feel irritated “Oh is that what you want? Get your jollys when powerful people admit they’re afraid of you? You think you can….you can…”

Jackdaw paused, unsure if his ears were working correctly.

“Are you eating?”

“Hmm??” the sound of smacking lips and chewing was the mercenary’s response for a few moments “Oh yeah. Get hungry when working. Normally I’d be all for the theatrics but it’s been a long night what with fucking with your fusebox, burning down your club, planting the phone on a guard. It’s like 3 in the morning dude.”

Jackdaw bit his lip angrily, a single drop of blood running down his chin “It is 3 in the morning and I’m very tired so I’d very much like to conclude our business. How much?”

“To hire me?” more lip smacking “An amount. You could probably afford it.”

Jackdaw let his shoulder’s sag with relief “So it’s agreed? I’ll hire you and we can all be on our merry way.”

“Sure!” Savant said cheerfully.

Bullet dodged.

“You can hire me after I finish this job. By the way did you like the gift I sent you?”

Gift?

Jackdaw was a powerful and feared member of the illicit side of the magical world. He climbed to his position through sheer force of will and power. He left countless of his enemies broken and defeated in his wake.

To see him reduced to a flailing, paranoid mess would be a story no one would believe.

“GIFT?!” Jackdaw screamed, unable to keep the high-pitch whine out of his voice “WHAT GIFT?! SOMEONE FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

The techie was the first to shake off their stupor “Well there was a box that came in today. It was empty and we detected no magic so…”

“Box?!” Jackdaw spat as he wildly searched the room before landing on the seemingly innocent box just sitting on his desk “You brought it the fuck here?”

Everyone backed away.

“I…”

“Wait” Jackdaw cut off the techie’s answer “Maybe they were hoping you’d take it somewhere or get rid of it. No, no this is good. We’re outwitting the fucker.”

“Sir, the box was empty. And you told use you personally wanted to inspect any and all….”

“You hear that asswipe!” Jackdaw grinned ear to ear “My people are the best! We’re ahead of you. Your game is over, you hear me?”

“My man.” Savant’s voice was infuriatingly calm “It’s just a regular old box for a boring ass mobster.”

“Stop lying!” Jackdaw roared angrily, instinctively bringing down his fist on the closet object in the room.

Which of course was the box.

The parcel collapsed under the mobster’s supernatural strength with little effort. As the box was smashed, the two inert glyph drawn in an invisible ink on both ends collided and activated each other.

The room erupted in an array of dazzling, blinding lights.

The light show hadn’t lasted long but no one knew that as they stumbled around, disoriented and lost, the display still burned in their retinas.

Jackdaw howled violently, swiping at the air blindly with long talon-like nails. Any calls for explanations or help were lost under the raging mobster unleashed.

Jackdaw didn’t hear the window break, the sound of glass shattering as it rained upon the floor. He didn’t see the muzzle flash that flared across the street, Savant’s sniping perch. He knew nothing but the sudden searing pain that filled his shoulder without warning.

Everything drained out of him, he slumped to the floor like a doll. He weakly clutched at his shoulder, steam wafting off the wound as the sliver bullet dug itself deep in its new home.

It didn’t matter what kind of werebeast you were: Wolf, bear, rat or even a raven like Jackdaw. All them were deathly weakened by sliver. The mere smell could cause nausea, touch burned worse than third degree burns and any injuries could take weeks, maybe even months to heal.

Jackdaw wheezed, the room spinning in a messy blur.

“Right.” the phone landed by his ear but Savant’s voice sounded far off like it was echoing down a long tunnel “Sorry I got the paper right here.”

Muted sounds of pockets being turned inside out: Scraping of metal on brick, shuffling papers, even rustling fast food wrappers.

“Got it!” Savant beamed “Quinn says stay the fuck off his turf. Mind your lane or the next time he sends me I won’t be aiming for your shoulder.”

“How did you know I was...I was… no one knew...?” Jackdaw murmured incoherently.

“Your heart.” Savant explained “It’ll be your heart. Okay well I gotta go so take these next few months to reflect on any sort of ill advised turf wars, domestic disputes and fighting with your rivals. If you’re still interested in hiring me for revenge or whatever, you call me at my business payphone. Bye little birdy!”

----------

Savant dropped the phone to the floor, crushing it under their boot while rubbing the tension out of their neck. Around them was the standard stakeout gear: high powered and totally illegal sniper rifle, a neatly piled trash heap and a sniping pillow (Sniping’s hard on the stomach and knees.).

They packed away the gun, kicked the trash heap to make it look more like natural rooftop garbage and went downstairs.

Savant yawned tiredly, not at all concerned with the guards that were pouring out of Jackdaw’s hidey hole. They glanced around, trying to get their bearings when they noticed a hot dog vendor across the street.

“I really shouldn’t” they pursed their lips “Especially after paying for someone to set up the pyrotechnics spells. But I am hungry. Stomach wins!”

Savant made their way over, patting their stomach lovingly “One hotdog please. Everything on it.”

“You got it!” The vendor nodded before eyeing the commotion “What’s with that?”

“I don’t talk business.”

“O-kay. Umm here’s your hotdog. That’ll be two bucks.

Savant reached into their pocket and shoved a hundred dollars into the waiting vendor’s hand. Without a second look, Savant gratefully took the hotdog and walked away.

“Hey buddy! BUDDY! You gave me way too much!”

“You too!” Savant replied, took caught up in the rapture that was their meal.

This was a really fucking good hotdog.

#my work #Original Work #original story #my stuff

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lunar-writings-love · 4 years ago

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College!AU - Hongjoong (ateez)

ahaha so i’m baaaack ;; super sorry for all the inactivity babes life has been weighing down on all of us i’m sure and i needed some time! This is the next installment of the college!au ateez series, and although i had planned to have hongjoong last, y’all requested him so much i wrote him next and changed the order around!

Author’s note: Bullet fic,

Warnings: like a drop of angst if u squint ?? the word sh!t appears one time i think

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Hongjoong:

he’s so cute i’m Sad

ok so Joongie is just so loved, so treasured by everyone ,, every time he enters into a room everyone just 🥺

he’ll walk into a room looking all sleepy in overalls or something and literally everyone’s parental instincts awaken from the depths of college emotional indifference and suddenly ,,

there’s world peace it’s a sight to see

so, our Hongjoongie is actually a double major!!

he’s a world lit major, and he’s minoring in gender studies so his emphasis is on analyzing feminist texts

more often than not, the best way to find hongjoong is to just go to the library on the south side of campus at odd hours at night and you’ll usually find him buried underneath a pile of books ;; (and more often than not he’ll also be sleeping because baby can’t stay awake to save his life ://)

But he really does love his major ,, and If u let him , he’ll rave hours and hours about literature; analyzing them through historical context, societal reflection, the role of women, writing style.....

....he just loves what he does and it makes everyone around him love him for it too!!

He always has extensive talks with Yeosang (an english major who took a lot of lit classes with hongjoong hint go read the yeosang!au) on american 19th century feminist writings

they started their own book club and it’s literally just them two, no other members allowed, and all they do is eat finger sandwiches and shit on misogynistic men we sTAN

HoWEVer, although hongjoong’s work in literature is impressive and respected, he’s probably better known for his second major:

music composition!

music is the love of his life ,,, no buts there’s nothing he’ll love more than his art (except maybe you aha ha ha ;)

and people knew him around campus becaaaauseeeeee ,,,,, he would usually ,,, dj at frat parties...

it wasn’t something he particularly liked, but hey money is money.

in all seriousness though, when hongjoong wasn’t reading or writing papers, he was glued to his mac producing tracks and writing lyrics

the only thing was ,,, he didn’t actually sing any of what he wrote

he never thought his own voice suited his songs, and would much rather sit on the sidelines moving along the creative direction

and although the boys usually are the ones to sing his demos,, joongie always felt like something was still ,,, missing

this is where u come in wink wonk

you’re just a lowly econ major who surprisingly !! doesn’t !! want !! to start your own fortune 500 company :DD !! wow so rare :)

anYWaYS,, you’re just doing it cuz your parents pressured you into pursuing a career with stable job opportunities and you’re kinda good at math and graphs soooo

....why not

but to be honest, you always felt trapped

you were never able to stop that feeling of impending doom when you’d open your macro-econ textbooks ,,,

or how your heart hurt when you think about the fact that your life is headed straight to an incredibly mundane future :

a desk job, an overpriced apartment that barely has enough room for you, living in constant air pollution from the city’s high carbon emissions, never finding true love, dying alone with 50 cats, taxes...you get the drift

you usually pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, negativity isn’t productive and right now you had a world economics midterm to study for

but..

not that you’d ever admit it, your true passion had always been music

you weren’t the best composer, you knew just enough piano to get you but; but you had a set of PIPES dAmN

your friends could usually find you at the dorm’s music rooms ,, and whenever you felt stress or needed to unwind, you’d usually head over to those rooms

now ,,, these rooms are soundproof // but the trick is you actually have to close the door cuz if u don’t......

everyone can hear you

and by everyone I mean the entire floor

you were doing your usual thing at the music room one night when one of your friends came in to let you know everyone would be heading over to dinner soon,, u promised only one more song before meeting them upstairs on your dorm floor

hoWEVeR, U DIDN’T REALIZE THAT WHEN YOUR FRIEND WALKED AWAY THEY LEFT THE DOOR OPEN

and soo ,, when u started singing again //// everyone heard

and by everyone i mean ???!?

hongjoong :))

and it was love at first sight ,,, or rather

,, love at first listen??

he won’t ponder over the semantics, all Hongjoong knew was that he had been looking for a voice like yours and needed you on his tracks

this man barged into the room and begged you to lend your voice for his songs

...on his knees :00

you were in shock like what were you supposed to do?

this random man stormed in and got on his knees ,,

what was next ??

marriage ????

u didn’t really say anything for a while just kinda looked him in his eyes

but then your uwu instincts kicked in--u don’t know what it is about this dude but u just wanna like give him candy or something

and so you hesitantly asked for his name

and that’s when hongjoong realized he was an IDIOT

because not only was your voice heavenly, but of course you were cute too and he just presented himself like a complete and utter maniac and He Didn’T eVEN bOTHER To TelL You hIS NAme!

he wanted the ground to swallow him up but alas

he got off his knees and shyly stuck out his hand and told you his name

you looked at him once again ,, and surprisingly

you took his hand with a small smile on your face

you ended up totally forgetting about dinner with your friends at the dining hall

because hongjoong sat beside you on the piano bench and showed you his songs and lyrics, and you....fell in love <3

you’d never connected with anyone on this type of emotional level before and it was almost sort of overwhelming

it also kinda gave you hope too ,, because here was Hongjoong ,, someone who managed to get the best of both worlds : a music and a lit degree

and you thought that maybe ,, you could do something with music too

you guys exchanged numbers and scheduled to meet at the university’s recording studio that weekend

Hongjoong composed a track and you added your own lyrics with his help--after two weeks of mixing, mastering, producing, and recording ,,, you guys officially released a single!!

you really weren’t expecting it, but hongjoong was a bit of a social butterfly and so the song became a hit on campus

people were uploading it to their social media, sharing it with friends, playing it while they worked out, it was kinda ridiculous to you

the student paper even wrote an article about it (and later you found out that the journalist was one of hongjoong’s friend’s girlfriend ,, (hint go read the yunho!au)

And when the song reached 10,000 streams, that gave you the confidence to do what you had always wanted to do

you called your parents up on a Saturday morning to tell them you were picking up a vocal performance major

you were extremely anxious for this conversation, so Hongjoong decided to stay by your side for moral support

As both of you waited with baited breath for your parents’ response, Hongjoong was also right there just ,, holding your hand so sweetly,, and that was driving YOU INSANE

(because in these past couple of months you had gotten to know Hongjoong you had mostly definitely, absolutely, completely fallen head over heels for him)

after a long moment of silence, your parents agreed

they weren’t too happy about it, but they also weren’t as against it as you thought they’d be--the only condition was that you’d continue with econ and instead double major

it would honestly be hard considering the amount of mandatory classes and performances required of the vocal performance major, but you were too happy to care

after your goodbyes with your parents, you looked over to Hongjoong with the biggest smile on your face

and it just,, absolutely melted his heart

before he could stop himself he just wrapped his arms around you and twirled you around

and then :) he gave you the softest kiss on your cheek

of course, after it dawned on him what he had done, he instantly turned red and started chucking nervously as he stuttered his words

but for you, the newfound confidence and ADRENALINE after your successful phone call with your parents, you grabbed both sides of his face and asked him if you could kiss him

Hongjoong was wide-eyed but LIKE HELL he would pass up this up

so after muttering out a shy yes, y’all kissed awwww :))

and after that, you guys became a couple!

you’d show up to the frat parties he would DJ at and would always dance like an idiot with wooyoung in the corner of the room

and you and hongjoong would always partner up for music composition and performance projects: Hongjoong would write the tracks and you’d sing for them

you guys were honestly such a soft couple

you also picked up the habit of studying sleeping at the library with hongjoong because double majoring was hard and it required a lot of work

and it just, now became a thing for people to always find you along with Hongjoong sleeping under a pile of books

you guys kept on releasing more singles after that, and are currently working on an EP!

and honestly, you were so incredibly happy

you had the most amazing boyfriend, and you were pursuing your passion

and you felt just a little bit better knowing that your future was unclear

you no longer pictured yourself at a desk job, living out an absolutely dreadful life

instead, you finally realized the multitude of opportunities at your disposal

and with Hongjoong by your side, you just knew everything in life would work out in the end!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

Love you guys! Stay safe and healthy!!

- Luna

80 notes · View notes

valwrite · 4 years ago

Text

empty lighter; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: it’s fascinating, the things people leave behind in our lives. memories, possessions, scars, emotions. over the course of his life, daveed had collected so much from people who he’d left behind. but all he has left of her is a lighter and a broken heart.

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive content, way too many cigarettes.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 11.4k

author’s note: ah! it’s finally here! my first ever oneshot on this blog. hopefully, you guys enjoy reading it. is it the best writing in the world? no. but it doesn’t matter, i’m so proud of myself for actually getting back into writing, to the point where i was able to start and finish an 11k word fic. i’ve edited this over 10 times, so if there’s still an error in it, i’m going to cry. feedback, likes and reblogs are 100% appreciated!

December, 2015

Sweat was in the air and, with it, a scent one would hardly call enjoyable. With his behind comfortably sat in a cushioned bar stool, the man done his best to ignore the scenery of the busy club: the ever moving mass of bodies on the dance floor; the headache inducing remix of California Girls, which the evening's DJ was playing for what felt like the millionth time that night; the sight of his best friend hitting on some poor unsuspecting girl just trying to order drinks for herself and her friends. Instead, he focused on the drops of condensation and the pattern they left behind as they dripped down the side of his glass.

The speakers began to play yet another remix. Daveed rolled his eyes and welcomed another sip of his drink, this time not returning the glass to the counter top until the caramel liquor was all gone. The burning feeling was familiar and anchored him down in reality, a bitter yet accepted reminder that, once again, he found himself in the same situation he'd been in for over a year: alone, while being surrounded by sweating bodies. Sat at a bar, his friend off chasing some nameless girl and nothing but his loneliness, which only grew with each breath he drew, to keep him company.

His friend, Rafael, made eye contact with him and beckoned him over. So he stood but made no attempt to approach and discover whatever plan Rafa had in store for him. He knew the blonde haired man just a little too well at that point. He knew that the man was desperate to get his friend back to the state he'd been in four months prior, where every night was a thrill and an opportunity to get tangled up in some sheets with a pretty stranger and some pain numbing lust. In Rafa's weak defense, he had no idea what had switched in his friend to revert him back into a self pitying mess. He hadn't bore witness to the scene Daveed had stumbled upon all those months ago, a scene which sent him rapidly spiraling back to the rut he'd been stuck in the first two months after the break up.

Daveed shook his head, his wilder than usual curls bouncing from side to side as he focused on getting his mind off of the break up, off of the ring store, off of her. He couldn't afford another night of wasted tears. He headed in the opposite direction of Rafa and found himself breathing fresh air for the first time in hours as he stepped out on to the busy New York street. A car honked in the near distance and the street lights just about matched the neon lights which had lit up the club but Daveed felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Clubs had always been a part of his social and professional life yet recent events had left him feeling claustrophobic inside them. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't like that this was his social life again. Nights spent in clubs, mornings spent with uncaring strangers, afternoons spent in regret and nausea. Where had the nights of home cooked meals gone? The mornings he'd spent shielding his beloved from the harsh light of the rising sun? The afternoons where it didn't matter what wasted the time away, all that mattered was the hand clasped tightly in his and the woman it belonged to? He wanted them back.

Daveed wanted her back.

He'd been so consumed in his own thoughts that, when he finally focused in on his surroundings again, he was only a block away from his apartment and the club was long behind him. He figured he could text Rafa once he got inside, he'd understand why Daveed walked out. He probably already knew. A shy voice calling out his name caught his immediate attention and Daveed paused mid step. The voice seemed familiar, comforting, adoring. His breath caught in his throat and he swore he was dreaming. It took a moment or two for him to turn around and face his pursuer.

Disappointment burst forth inside him but he had to conceal the drop in his smile, especially when he noticed the young girl who was smiling at him with a gleam of excitement in her eyes and a familiar logo printed on her black t-shirt. He hadn't been dreaming, just delusional.

The fan was kind enough. She'd shyly asked him for a picture before gushing over how excited she'd been at one of last week's shows at the theater. Her brief mentioning of clipping. had meant more to Daveed than anything else she'd said, which he knew was a little selfish of him but he couldn't help it. Clipping., unlike the current Broadway show he was a part of, was truly something that was his to own. Sure, there were two other guys involved along with him, but the words he spat and the emotions and meanings laced within them were all Daveed's. To have it gain praise was a direct boost to his ego.

With a happier feeling installed in him, Daveed found himself unlocking the door to his apartment. He didn't bother untying his laces, his shoes simply being kicked off and left near the front door as he made his way into the familiar apartment. He ignored the state the place was in and dropped down on to the comfort of the leathered loveseat, finding some form of tranquility in the disorganization of his own belongings. It somehow made the place feel closer to home. Despite the fact he'd been staying there since pre-production of Hamilton, Daveed still felt disconnected. Not just to the apartment but the whole city. Perhaps, he felt too loyal to the Bay area to allow himself to get too comfortable with living on the east coast. More likely, it had to do with the fact she wasn't there with him, like she was supposed to be, like they'd both agreed.

Engraved in his mind was the memory of Y/N 's face, lit up with glee as she strolled in and out of the different rooms of the place, her voice rising in volume as she ranted and raved about all the ways they could set up the apartment- their apartment, a first of many homes together; god, just thinking of it brought a smile to his face and a dizzy feeling to his head-, and her list of all the ways they could spend any free time they could get: the little cafes they could visit, the monuments they could see, the streets they could walk. He could so vividly remember pulling her into his arms, his lips confidently claiming her own against them. He held her there for their own little infinity, one hand fisted in her hair, the other splayed out against her lower back as her own softly grabbed at his jumper and held him down to her, as if he'd ever dream of leaving her. Her soft laughter had echoed off the walls as she pulled away. He couldn't stand having his mouth off of her and settled with peppering kisses down her exposed neck whilst she jokingly accused him of just wanting her to shut up. He didn't even know how to begin to explain how far from the truth that was. That, in reality, he'd just felt such a desperate need to have her against him because he wasn't entirely sure if she was real or if the life and relationship they'd built together had been nothing but a cruel dream of his. She was too good, her love was too good and he, a man who's career was built off of his eloquence and mastering of word play, was at a complete loss for words when it came to loving her. Heavy breathing and discarded clothing was the way he'd chosen to express his love that evening, breaking in their new apartment. The very same apartment where their relationship would come to an abrupt end no more than two weeks later.

There was a pain growing in Daveed's chest, which he could only imagine was a side effect of his shattered heart attempting to continue beating. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He already knew it was Rafa before he even looked at the screen and answered the call.

“Hey man!” Rafa's cheery voice burst through the speaker and Daveed pulled the phone back from his ear, not having expected the volume of his friend’s voice or the questionable Cotton Eyed Joe remix in the background. “Where'd you go? I got a couple girls here that were looking forward to meeting you!”

“Yeah, I... I'm meeting Oak early tomorrow, got some magazine the cast is doing a shoot for.” In his own defense, Daveed wasn't lying. There was a photo shoot and he was meeting Oak in the morning but that wasn't the reason he'd left.

If Rafa knew his friend was evading the truth, he thankfully kept it to himself. “Ah, so the princess needs her beauty sleep? Your loss, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop wasting your time on me and go enjoy yourself.”

“Have fun with your face masks and beauty creams! Oh, and Daveed?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't try shaving yourself tomorrow, leave it to the professionals. Don't want any nasty cuts on that precious face.”

Having hung up, Daveed carelessly flung his phone down on to the couch and watched it bounce once before laying flat on it's screen. The walls of the apartment were beginning to suffocate him, so much unfilled and unused space now suddenly feeling like it was caging him in, mocking him, taunting him with every echo of his own breathing that bounced off the walls. There was an itching in his lungs and his fingers had began to fiddle with themselves.

Daveed wasn't a particularly anxious person. Yet, anxiety was swelling in his throat and he ashamedly knew why. With his head hung low, Daveed blindly reached for the square packet and the cylinder lighter and headed straight for the balcony door. Opening it, he allowed the outside world to infiltrate his senses once more and it stole away some of his loneliness. The noise and lights and traffic were all a sign of life beyond his own, evidence that he wasn't truly alone in the world. Any loneliness he faced was product of his own creation, an isolation he'd comfortably settled with.

He hadn't put his whole life on pause. No, Daveed wasn't that careless. He woke up every morning and walked out the front door, prepared to face the day with as earnest of a smile as possible. He'd laugh with friends, speak with fans, give his all in his performances. But the feeling of longing would never truly leave him. Rafa could see it, most of the Hamilton cast too. They all knew there was an unspoken part of Daveed that was in denial of her absence. They could see it in the way his eyes never lingered much on beautiful women; in the way he kept her picture in his dressing room; in the way he still carried his part of their matching keyrings. But, what else could they do other than be there for him? She'd walked out with his lifeline and had left nothing but a Daveed shaped shell, hollow and devoid of life, just waiting for the day she walked back into his arms. He was pathetic. Foolish. Selfdestructive.

And so painfully in love with Y/N, even though it no longer seemed fair to feel that way.

The metal handrail was cold to the touch as he let his hands run over it, his eyes gazing down at the active nightlife below. His hands robotically opened the packet and out of it he pulled a cigarette. The nicotine stick found itself resting between his plush lips. The lighter was sparked up, the cigarette set a light and an inhalation of sweet smoke was taken. He'd always felt smoking alone was one of the most solemn of experiences. A couple more drags were taken before he became fixated with the lighter in his hand. He lit it up just to watch the flame dance, not a care in the world for the wasted lighter fluid. It didn't take much longer for his treacherous mind to drift towards the empty lighter inside his sock drawer and, most importantly, the memories attached to it.

A younger Daveed, freshly off stage and with sweat drying into his skin, had pushed past the drunken messes and the grinding pairs to escape for a breath of fresh air and a cigarette. Standing up in front of a crowd was a thrill, truly, but Daveed was still shy at his core and the hyperawareness of his own performance brought on a stress only nicotine could soothe.

The exit had taken him out into a back alley. The bass of whatever song was playing indoors could still be felt but the street was thankfully pretty calm, no one else there but another smoker and a couple making out further down from the door. A few steps out into the alley and he stopped, bending his right leg at the knee to perch his foot back against the brick wall as his hands occupied themselves fishing out a cigarette.

“Shit.” A curse escaped him as the realization hit that he'd forgotten to bring a lighter with him. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and huffed, a hand running through his curls. Maybe he wouldn't be getting that stress reliever that evening after all.

“Need a light?” Daveed nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, his foot slipping off of the wall and his back straightening. When his eyes landed on a girl, who was wrapped up in an oversized jacket and had her arm outstretched with a blue lighter dangling between her fingers, he was certain she hadn't been there when he'd stepped outside. Egotistically, he wondered if she'd perhaps followed him. Stupidly, he wished she had.

Daveed caught himself before he could stare at her for too long, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her face down to the lighter she was still offering. With gratitude, he took it from her grasp and put it to good use. Seconds later, his lungs were filling with poison and his face with relief. Turning his attention back to her, he found the girl already staring at him. Unlike most, she didn't avert her gaze in shame of being caught. She only focused more intently on him, a ghost of a smile presenting itself on her features. “Thanks, uh, pretty lucky you came out here.”

“If you want to label me following you as luck, then sure.” The calmness of her voice, the way she shrugged so nonchalantly, the way her side was resting up against the wall and her eyes were shamelessly trailing over him were a hypnotic mixture strong enough for Daveed to nearly miss the words she'd spoke. Had he missheard or had she actually followed him? Freaked out would be the normal response. Flattery is what took it's place in Daveed, though. “That was quite a performance, very... lively.”

“Yeah,” A chuckle escaped him and his free hand shot up to rub the back of his neck. “that was one of our tamer crowds, believe it or not. Glad you enjoyed it.”

“I never said I enjoyed it.” The smile had slipped from her face, visually punctuating her words. Then, much to Daveed's relief, she broke out in a fit of giggles and the friendliness in her voice had returned. “I'm only messing! You were amazing but, honestly, the other two of your group are the unsung heroes. They really held it down.”

Daveed wasn't about to deny her statement, knowing fine well just how vital the two men were to him. If he were the ink, they were the paper he wrote on and the pen that encapsulated him. Her praise for them only made Daveed enjoy her company more.

From there, the two continued to partake in casual conversation: her asking about how long clipping. had been a thing, him asking her about her studies and the cold air of the night slowly urging the two to stand closer and closer and closer. There was laughter in the air and comfort in their bones, almost as if the two had been lifelong friends catching up and not two strangers meeting in a back alley. Daveed had long finished his cigarette and he knew his friends would be wondering where he'd disappeared to but he wasn't ready to walk away from the conversation, from her, and so out he pulled another, perching it between his lips. He hadn't had the chance to ask for her lighter, she'd beat him to it and sparked it up. He bent at the knee a little as he leaned down, both of them sharing eye contact whilst she held the flame to it. This time around, Daveed offered the cigarette packet out to her, hoping to repay her in some way.

“I don't smoke, but thanks.”

“You don't smoke, but you carry around a lighter?” His head tilted off to the side and a cheeky grin overtook his face. “You're kinda weird.”

“And you're a charmer, aren't you?” She rebutted, though no offence was really taken. “You're not the only smoker who forgets to bring a lighter. My boyfriend has a habit of doing it, so I carry one around for him.”

The window of hope inside of his mind was shattered by one simple word. Boyfriend. Of course she was taken. She was the kind of girl who you met in the morning and were in love with come the evening.

“Anyways,” Her voice interrupted his disappointment. “you distracted me from the reason I followed you out here!”

“Yeah? And what reason was that?”

“My friend thinks you're hot. Well, no, actually, I believe the exact words she used were "If he can rap that fast, I wonder what else he can do with his tongue. I don't usually climb trees but I could make an exception if the tree looks like him."” She'd used air quotes to signal just what her friend had said and, for the first time since the two had met, Daveed felt bashful. He hadn't expected her to say such a thing, even if it was just mimicking her friend.

“And you wouldn't happen to be this friend?” Daveed teased.

“I prefer my men on the shorter side, thank you very much." Her tongue darted out at him and he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone stick their tongue out as an insult. Maybe in third grade? "My friend wants your number, though. And also wanted me to subtly convince you to invite us to come sit at your table but I'm really too tired to be subtle so, please just invite us.”

They'd returned inside not too long after, together, and off she'd gone to grab her friend to drag her over to Daveed's table. And while her friend was beautiful and flirting with Daveed the whole night, he found himself staring over at the girl from the alley every chance he got. He'd watched her do shots with Jonathan, watched as she and Rafa competed in a thumb war, watched as she'd knocked back a shot as her forfeit for losing. At some point in the night, Daveed had asked for her name and, at another point, she'd told him it was Y/N. And when he finally stumbled back into his own bed that night, his eyes staring up at his ceiling as he flipped the blue lighter in his hand, he thought of her.

Wetness dropped onto his hand and tore Daveed away from the memory playing on repeat in his mind. A single tear sat atop his hand and, in the other, a finished cigarette. Stubbing it out, he dropped the bud into a nearby ashtray and centered himself. Tears stung at his eyes and his breath was shaky but he was determined to push through and talk himself out of a full on breakdown.

Hours later, when sleep was finally coming for him and the warmth of his duvets embraced him instead of her arms, his wandering hands reached deep inside his drawer and pulled out the blue lighter as his eyes slipped shut and his mind drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

A blaring song and a loud buzzing noise woke Daveed up in a startle. He sat up, eyes still half shut and the duvet slipping down his naked chest. The noise persisted and he realized it was his own ringtone, playing from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He cursed under his breath when he stepped out of the bed, his foot landing on something uncomfortable before eventually meeting the soft carpet and giving him the leverage to reach the bottom of his trousers, dragging them over to find his phone screen lit up with Oak's name painted across the screen.

“What do you want?” Daveed was never a morning person and had no shame in this, especially when his sleep was interrupted.

“Good morning Oak! How are you? Oh I'm fine Daveed, how are you?” The overly chipper voice of Okieriete birthed a groan out of Daveed as he dropped back onto the bed behind him.

“It's too early for this, dude.”

“It's ten minutes away from being noon!”

“I rest my case.”

“C'mon man, we were supposed to be catching a ride together to head to the shoot. Now our car is ten minutes away and I arrive at your doorstep to find you're not even awake, never mind ready.” Oak's words were followed by a series of knocks, which Daveed could hear through the phone but also coming faintly from outside his bedroom.

“Shit.” Realizing that, amidst the flurry of pity and nicotine, he'd forgotten to set his alarm, Daveed begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, tired legs with muscles stiff from sleep carrying him all the way over to the front door of his apartment, all the while Oak berated him over the phone and knocked away at the wood. Twisting the keys, Daveed pulled the door open at last and found Oak stood there, fist raised in mid knock.

“You look like shit.” Oak proceeded to brush past him and, after closing his front door again, Daveed followed the man to find him with his hand knuckle deep in a tub of peanut butter.

“Please, make yourself at home.” It was no more than a mutter under his breath but Oak had heard it and responded with a peanut butter coated middle finger.

The crappy coffee maker was switched on and Daveed went back into the messy bedroom. He'd just pulled some sweatpants over his legs when he heard Oak calling out to him from the kitchen. Slipping one of his t-shirts on, from his ever growing collection of Oakland attire, he made his way back over to the man and the freshly brewed coffee- which, without a doubt, was not going to be warm enough nor sweet enough- only to find his friend had abandoned the jar of peanut spread and instead was flicking through his mail. Despite this, a sip of underwhelming caffeine was more of a priority than questioning Oak.

“Who's Raquel and why is she inviting you to her wedding?” Now that, that was certainly more important than coffee.

Dropping his mug back onto the counter with almost enough force to shatter it, Daveed dove forward and ripped the envelope out of Oak's hands. Just like he'd said, inside of it was a wedding invitation from one Raquel Castro. The very same girl who'd once sent her friend to ask for his number. The very same girl who'd helped him plan out his first date with her best friend. The very same girl who'd been sneakily finding out what Y/N's ring size was only two months before his world came crashing down.

Given the memories he'd recalled the night before, part of Daveed couldn't help but think this invitation was more than a simple coincidence. A week after the break up, Raquel had called him. She'd been angry and accusatory with her words but it stemmed from her own confusion and inability to comprehend why things had ended so hastily between him and Y/N. Daveed couldn't understand it himself either. The call had ended up being the first thing to make him smile in his new found singleness. The two had maintained frequent contact from there on out, casual texts sent between them both just around once every month, Raquel had even taken a trip into New York with her fiancé and stopped by one of the Hamilton performances. But this invite, it had to be some sort of sign from the universe, a sign involving Y/N. Unfortunately, Daveed had not a single clue how to interpret this sign.

It took him a total of nine days to RSVP for the ceremony, playing out the pros and cons of his attendance. The fact Y/N would likely be there was the only pro that was also a con, and vice versa. Maybe he'd find some closure or, at the very least, answers to the questions he'd had on his mind since the day she'd slammed the door shut on their love. More likely, he'd spend the whole night alone at the singles table, nursing some old whiskey and watching her dance the night away in another man's arms.

January, 2016

This time, the DJ seemed to be enamored with some niche European techno music and Lin, a sweating mess on the relatively small dance floor, had become his number one fan. Next to the dancing maniac were the so called Schuyler Sisters, Jasmine and Reneé were busy taking turns dancing with the long haired man whilst Phillipa was losing herself in laughter between videoing the lot of them. Scattered along the club were the rest of the cast and crew. In fact, most of the people Daveed held closest to him were there, all banding together to celebrate something they had in common: him.

For them, it was the celebration of his 34th birthday. For him, it was a pity party for his 2nd birthday in a row without Y/N by his side.

He'd made a vow to not be bitter that night and focus on being grateful for what and who he did have in his life. Thus far, he'd done a good job. For the first night out in months, Daveed hadn't spent the night sat at the bar alone. He'd danced with friends and done shots with strangers and flirted with beautiful women. But it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. All of his friends were there with their significant others whilst he was there with his bottle of champagne.

Tilting the bottle back, Daveed welcomed the bubbled drink in and gulped several times before dropping it back onto one of the many tables they'd all occupied. Just as he made the decision to stop thinking about her, destiny or the universe or whatever higher being was out there decided it was time for his birthday present.

He could hear the group of girls long before he could see them. A ruckus of screeching and slurred words was approaching and, from the neon bracelets and the sashes draped across scantily clad chests, it was clear as day to him that a bridal party had just entered the building, and they were far from subtle.

His curious eyes found themselves scanning over each girl of the bridal party as they filtered their way over to the other side of the VIP lounge. They were a sea of nameless faces, hooting and cheering like a bunch of frat guys on a night out and, as easy as it would be to find them irritating, Daveed couldn't help but chuckle and enjoy the fact that other people were having a great night. Until his eyes drifted to the back of the group.

At first, it just felt like a coincidence. A dress, laced with familiarity and the color red, which he was sure he'd seen before. But, then again, there were tons of red dresses in the world. Then, the girl looked up from her phone and Daveed felt the wind get knocked out from beneath his feet. Clinging to the table in front of him for support, he watched her smile at her friend.

It was the kind of smile he used to pull from her, whilst they were both spread out on each end of the sofa and a terribly romantic movie playing in the background of their happiness. He'd cheesily recite lines from the movie to her and revel in the way he could still make her blush, even if she hid it with a cringe. And when he'd agree to stop, he'd always tell her he loved her. No cheesy lines, no big words or unrealistic speeches that took place in airports. Just a flat out, honest, sincere “I love you”. Y/N would just smile and he'd already know she loved him back, no words needed.

“Wow buddy, you alright there?” The distinguishable voice of Anthony Ramos cut through Daveed's reminiscing yet his eyes never left her. He was frozen in time, hyper focused on each gesture she made. Most of all, he was desperately trying to spot the ring on her finger. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Daveed bit back a comment about the ghost being from his past, of a life he could have had. Grabbing a half filled shot glass, he threw it’s contents down his throat, not even grimacing as the liquor stung his nerves. “I'm great. Just tired. S'been a long day, y'know?” His words were a little more unsteady and slurred than he would have preferred but Daveed was sure he'd sounded convincing enough.

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Anthony chanted enthusiastically over the music, gaining a few glares and side-eye glances from surrounding tables. He truly was the human equivalent of a beagle: energetic, kinda short, great with kids. “Let's go do some! Shots always work great if you're feeling tired.”

“How 'bout you go order us some then, Ant?” Daveed said, at last tearing his eyes away from Y/N and her red dress. “I'm just... Gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Daveed would have felt bad for lying to Anthony, he really would have, but he just needed a breath of fresh air. And maybe a dose of poison in his lungs. Out of everyday in which he could have ended up in the same city, in the same club, in the same section as Y/N, of course it had to be the night he'd sworn off thinking about her. How cruel fate seemed to him, not allowing him a break from sorrow.

The January air had a chill to it when it embraced Daveed as he stepped out on to the small balcony, which was really just a metal enclosure that looked as if it was violating some kind of health and safety code. The club music was still audible but it was playing in sync with noise of the city. A siren was ringing in some distance. He placed his vice between his lips, ready to light it up when-

“What's the birthday boy doing out here all alone? Not throwing a pity party, I hope.”

Daveed jolted and watched as the cigarette, now having slipped out of his mouth, fell to the balcony floor and dropped through the metal caging. Biting back a curse, he finally noticed the black satin and a familiar head of blonde hair. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Yet again, it hadn't been long since she'd come to see Hamilton. “Raquel!” His enthusiasm was honest, as was the care he put into the hug he pulled her into.

“If only everyone was this excited to see me, the world would be a better place.” Raquel exclaimed, drawing back from his embrace and cautiously leaning against the handrail, tilting her head down as she looked over the edge. “Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.” A sheepish smile appeared. “But, hey, at least Y/N can no longer claim that I enable your smoking!”

Daveed realized then and there that it was no coincidence that Raquel had come up to him. Sure, it was his birthday, and sure, they were friends. But Daveed had been blatantly staring at his ex, her best friend, and clearly he'd been caught. If if weren't for the calming nature of her voice or the way she looked at him with equal amounts of kindness and pity, Daveed would have walked away from the conversation before it could even begin. But, it was too late now.

“Remember that trip we all took to Cancún? Where she threw the cigarettes you bought me in the bin?” For the first time, Daveed was sharing memories of her with someone else. For months, his reminiscing had been silent, not unnoticed but not shared either. It was almost like he'd been in mourning for so long and, now, he was finally ready to start celebrating the life he'd lost.

“How could I forget? She still owes me ten dollars.” Raquel laughed and he followed, even if he didn't find any humor in their conversation. His was an empty laugh. “Oh! Right! I actually needed to talk to you about something!”

“I'm all ears.”

“It's about the catering at the wedding. I know you're Jewish but I can't remember if you're kosher. Just in case you want us to mark anything non-kosher at the reception.”

“Ah,” Daveed nodded, silently appreciating that she'd even taking the time to ask him. “Don't worry, I'm not that strict about it. Honestly. Thanks for asking though.” By then he'd drawn and lit a cigarette, this time managing to not drop it. He let his eyes scan over her and he found himself unable to stop the small smile which took over his face at the sight of her bridal party wear. “The wedding isn't until August, isn't it a bit early to start up the bachelorette party?”

“This isn't my party, Diggs.” She rebutted, bumping his shoulder with her own as she stole a sip from her champagne flute. “It's a friend of mine's. That's actually why we're in New York.”

They didn't need to define who we was referring to, Daveed knew it was Y/N. If it were even possible, his heart stuttered over a beat. The question was at the tip of his tongue, longing for him to just get it over with. Rip the band-aid off, open up his wound and let it bleed out. Is it her wedding? Somehow, the answer seemed scarier than the question. “Seems everyone's getting married off then, huh?” Like a coward, he never asked.

“What about you, mister Broadway? Any lucky lady in your life?” Surely she knew the answer, considering he hadn't added a plus one on to his wedding reservation.

“No, uh, been too busy. Shows 'n stuff, y'know?” He said, not even convincing himself of his own excuses. And, from the pitiful look she was giving him and the hand she'd placed on his forearm, Raquel wasn't believing him either.

“Have you talked to her, at all? Since things ended between you guys...” She paused, as if searching for the right way to word things. “I just think you guys at least deserve some closure. Your relationship didn't even properly come to an end. One day, you guys were together, the next, well, you were over. Two years of building a life together can't just stop all of a sudden.” Daveed remained silent and Raquel took this as a sign to keep talking. “Sorry if you think it's not my place to say all this. I've been trying to tell her for months now to talk to you but she just won't listen. Not even when we came to your show.”

That had spiked his attention and his eyes widened. His show. The theater. Hamilton. She'd been there, somewhere in the mass of the audience. In anger, he wished he'd spotted her. In pain, he wished she'd have let him know. Now here was their friend, her friend, asking him to talk to her and get closure for them both. Even if it hurt him to think that Y/N was suffering, it hurt him more to think of them truly being over. And that's exactly what closure meant. The end of things. Daveed wasn't ready for her to become a part of his past yet. Besides, last time he'd seen her, Y/N seemed to be doing just fine, with or without closure.

Both of his hands were full from the tray of beverages in to-go cups he'd been sent to purchase for the cast, meaning Daveed had to shoulder his way out of the corner cafe, all the while cursing the fact he'd ever agreed to take part in the childish game of rock, paper, scissors. He'd drawn rock and wound up losing to the rest of the cast's papers. Laughter had echoed as he walked out the theater with a list of everyone's order.

A frustrated sigh escaped Daveed as he lowered the trays onto an outdoor table. Sitting unevenly on the pavement, the table wobbled. Those short three seconds had Daveed near crippled in panic as he watched the drinks shake, some almost toppling over completely. Luckily, they all stayed up right and he wasn't about to find himself buying a whole new order.

“C'mon, c'mon, hurry up.” He muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against the side of his legs, eyes staring down the street with a desperation to spot the familiar face of a fellow Hamilton cast member. He'd texted the group-chat just about ten minutes ago, someone should have been on their way to help him carry the order back.

The blaring of a horn had Daveed looking up from his phone screen. An elderly man was cursing out some taxi driver as he crossed the road, stick waving in the air as unfiltered words fell from his lips. Maybe, if Daveed hadn't stared at the scene before him for so long, he would have never noticed the jewelers directly across the street from him.

Maybe he would have never noticed a man and woman inside the store. Him, with his arm around her shoulder, and her, with her eyes fixated on the display of rings in front of her, and both with smiles brighter than any collapsing star. He watched, throat dry and limbs heavy, as the attendant in the store helped the woman slide on the ring. The engagement ring. She nodded, just one nod, and that's all it took for Daveed's world to implode. Of course, the couple were completely unaware of the heartbreak they were causing as they waited for the ring to be wrapped and bagged. The man had eagerly pulled out his credit card, as if he couldn't wait a second longer to purchase it, and the woman welcomed the bag into her waiting hands, like she was desperate to return the ring to it's rightful home: her left ring finger.

It was selfish, Daveed knew that, but he'd been hoping Y/N was just as torn up by their break up as he still was.

Instead, she was engaged. To another man, another future.

“There you are! God, this place was further than I expected.” Daveed turned his head to see one of the ensemble members, Ariana, approaching him. She smiled and he done his best to return the gesture. “Alright, what ones am I carrying?”

“Oh. Uh,” He blindly grabbed two of the sets of drinks, offering them to her. “these ones. I got the rest.”

“Okay! Let's go, pretty sure poor Leslie is gonna pass out from exhaustion if he doesn't get his dose of coffee soon.” Daveed hesitated following her and, instead, stared back over at the other side of the street. He found the store was now empty of customers and Y/N was no longer there. “Hello? Earth to Daveed!”

“Huh?”

“You okay there? You were just staring off into space for like, 2 minutes.”

“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed the ball of emotion pent up in his throat and walked over to her, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him to look back. It just wanted to torture him some more. “Just,” He sighed. “thought I saw someone.”

“If she doesn't want to talk, then there's no reason for me to do it. Maybe it's just better for us both if we keep to ourselves.” The reality was that Daveed didn't think he'd be able to get through talking to her even if she did want to speak about it. Not when he'd spend the whole time staring at her hands, at the rock resting on her finger, at the pledge of love and fidelity she'd given to someone else. “So, how's wedding planning been treating you? You excited to just get it over with?”

“A hundred percent!” Raquel laughed and he relaxed, thankful for the fact she'd let him change the topic of conversation. “Don't get me wrong, some of the planning has been fun. Cake tasting? I highly recommend it. And I've got her learning salsa for our first dance. But, yeah, venue planning and the cost of it all has been a bit of a bummer. I'll be glad to never have to do that again.”

“Salsa? Great choice, bring a little flavor into the whole traditional wedding dancing.”

“Yeah! Fuck swaying side to side awkwardly, I'm putting on a performance! It's been a messy journey, planning everything. Even just something as simple as seating arrangements, who the hell knew it was such a process to organize all that crap?” She threw her hands up, the remainder of her champagne sloshing inside of the glass. “But it'll be worth it when I walk down the aisle with her. We're gonna put all other brides to shame in our dresses. Shit, sorry, all I talk about recently is the wedding! You can tell me to stop if you want.”

“It's fine, no worries. You're happy, it's nice.” He felt a tug at his heartstrings all of a sudden, very aware of the fact of how much had changed since the two had first met. It really did fill him with joy to see her so happy. “You deserve it, Kelly.”

“You know I hate being called that, David.” The two old friends laughed in unison after she lightly kicked him with her heeled foot, not even hard enough to leave a scuff on his jeans. “It's crazy, you know, that just about four years ago I was trying to get in your pants. And now I'm a few months away from getting married! To the love of my life! I mean, she's honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, D, you have no idea.”

He had an idea and it was somewhere else inside the busy club, wrapped in red and the familiar scent of coconut- it had always been her favorite - but he wasn't sure he was allowed to speak about her like Raquel spoke about her fiancé. That was reserved for someone else now. He also held back on pointing out the pitiful fact that it seemed people who pursued him would wind up engaged afterwards.

At some point, they both went their separate ways, back to their respective groups. Daveed eventually threw caution to the wind, a fresh wound on his soul after having seen Y/N urging him on. Every drink he was handed ended up down his throat and, somehow, Lin managed to rope him into dancing to the shitty music with him. They all danced, cramped together in the limited space like canned tuna. When the last song was played, when the last drink had been poured, when the last cab had been hailed, a very intoxicated Daveed found himself stumbling into the apartment of a stranger wrapped in red. The fact she smelt like sweat and lavender was the only downside.

If he hadn't drank so much or gotten so reckless and careless, perhaps his phone wouldn't have been left abandoned among glitter and emptied glasses in the deserted club, it's screen lit up with two notifications:

00:49 am (+81) 03-3***-****: happy birthday, d. i'm glad to see you're having a fun night!

02:18 am (+81) 03-3***-****: you're wearing my favorite shirt of yours.

August, 2016

The sun setting over the horizon burned at Daveed's tired eyes as he stepped off the plane, thankful to be home yet dreading the next day. The whole flight over he'd practically gone through the works of all possible emotions he could feel towards his impending future. Excited, saddened, nervous, happy, frustrated, nervous again. Every possible scenario had played through his mind, ones where the two did not speak, others were they done nothing but speak and one, shamefully, where they done something but it was not speaking.

The wedding was one sleep away and he was no more prepared to be in such close proximity of Y/N than he had been the night of the club or the day on the sidewalk.

His dad had picked him up from the airport, lending him a hand with his limited luggage and pulling his cherished son into a warm hug. The whole drive back to his father's home had been filled with playing catch up, Daveed sharing stories of his cast mates and his father telling him about his new hobby of coaching a local junior basketball team. Daveed was grateful for his dad not asking about Y/N. If it had been his mother, all intentions pure and caring, she would have began to question him on the matter the second he was strapped in to his seat and unable to escape.

His parents had always liked Y/N, that was for sure. And, while it had been a blessing during their relationship to see his mother dote over her like she were her own daughter or to witness her beat his dad at guitar hero, it had become a curse when things had ended. The way things ended did not make matters any better. His own mother had given Daveed the silent treatment for a whole two days after he explained to her how things had gone down.

He fell asleep that night, his bag opened yet not unpacked, in the guest bedroom of his father's home. A belly full of pizza and beer, mind full of worry and doubt.

Hours later, after a shower, a shave and a shit ton of stressing as he pulled on his suit, Daveed found himself parked outside the venue. Finding a parking space had been stressful enough but it was nothing compared to the on-going battle between him and his crooked tie. It had only hit him that morning just how long it had been since he'd had to tie his own tie, too accustomed to his new normal of having a stylist dress him for most formal occasions. Before that, he'd had Y/N.

A few months into their relationship, when he finally felt confident enough to meet her parents, she'd went out of her way to learn exactly how to tie a tie and she'd wordlessly done it for him that evening, his hands too shaky and his nerves too on edge. From there onward, he'd purposefully mess up only to have her stand so close, where he could comfortably lay his hand to rest on her lower back as she worked away at sorting the piece of cloth around his neck.

“That's as good as it's gonna get.” The quiet of his car was filled with his disappointed voice as the less crooked tie stared back at him through the rear view mirror. Despite his words, he gave it one last tug and stepped out of the car.

He hadn't expected to be recognized by so many familiar faces. He probably should have expected some though, these were people who'd been friends to him once upon a time ago. To add tension to an already tense situation, everyone that felt the need to come up to him was dancing around the fact things had ended between him and Y/N and that was why they'd stopped talking to him.

“It's been so long since I've seen you! I've just been swamped with work, you know? And, New York! You were on Broadway. How's Broadway? Must be exciting to be on Broadway!” They'd all have the same excuses to avoid the obvious: they were Y/N's friends first and they'd be hers till the end.

Daveed wished he believed it when he told himself he didn't mind that.

The venue of the ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful and, now sat among (luckily) unfamiliar faces, Daveed took the chance to fully appreciate the scenery.

It was being held within a greenhouse, and in almost every inch of the place there was a strike of greenery. The surrounding walls were made up solely of glass windows, serving as a source of natural light. At the end of the aisle, where the exchanging of vows, crying of happy tears and giving of rings would be taking place, was a beautiful water display, with water so fresh looking it appeared drinkable. And the air? It was smothered in the scent of life: blossoming buds and flourishing flowers and ripening fruits. Splashes of red and yellow, of blue and lilac, of pink and orange effortlessly added more class and detail into the green venue.

If the venue was breathtaking, the ceremony was heartbreakingly tender.

The two teary eyed brides had walked down the aisle with the person they'd chosen to give them away and, by the time they were both facing each other at the makeshift altar, Daveed could already see a stray tear falling down Raquel's cheek. At that, he smiled. And stayed smiling throughout the whole ceremony. Until it came to Raquel's vows. At some point in her big proclamation of love, she began speaking about how her and her bride had first met, about how she hadn't even realized she was being hit on by her and how, when she was asked for her number, Raquel thought she'd just wanted to be friends. She spoke of how two dear friends of her's told her she was being asked out on a date, not just to hang out as friends.

For the first time during the ceremony, Daveed finally looked directly at where Y/N stood in front of the other bridesmaids. He watched as a stray tear slid down her cheek, one she quickly tried to brush away, and her hands tightened around the bouquet they were wrapped around. His own eyes were welling up with tears in just a few seconds. While they weren't the only two in the room carrying tears in their eyes, they were the only two who's tears were made up of missed chances and broken promises and pure, untamed sadness. After all, they’d been there to witness the first meeting of the brides. They’d been together then and now, they were further apart than the stars above.

He'd told himself he'd just steal one last glance at her, remember her as she was next to the altar, all dressed up and looking beautiful albeit sad. His eyes lifted. And there was Y/N staring right back at him, a couple more tears already having fallen from her eyes. The eye contact never wavered between them both and, for the first time in a while, Daveed felt like he was actually being seen for who he really was. And when she smiled, he fell apart.

A tear finally escaped it's cage but Daveed made no attempt to wipe it away.

One luxurious meal later, and quite a few drinks from the open bar, Daveed sat in the very same situation he'd predicted. At the singles table- which was pretty depressing given who his company for the evening was -, with some girl he'd met about an hour ago talking his ears off about her job which he hadn't even asked about, a drink he’d been nursing for half an hour in his hand and his eyes hyper-focused on the dance floor. Taking another sip, he drowned out the stranger’s voice and watched how Y/N laughed at something her dance partner had whispered in her ear.

This was how Daveed had chosen to enjoy the reception: playing a game of “Guess Who’s Marrying The Love Of Your Life?” with every man who so much as approached her. He was thankful her duties as maid of honor kept her so busy, she’d yet to have the chance to notice his incessant watching.

Deciding he’d spotted the fiancé of his kryptonite- the man she’d been dancing with for just over twenty minutes, who she’d been sat next to during the meal, who seemed to make her laugh just as hard as Daveed once had - he pushed back his chair, straightened out the jacket of his suit and headed for his destination.

Heavy footsteps, fists clenched, breathing erratic, Daveed stepped out into the fresh air and made his way over to the concrete railing of the balcony, a balcony far more sturdy and well designed than the one he’d stumbled onto back in January.

The silence and lonesomeness wrapped themselves around Daveed like the softest, warmest blanket on a winter's eve. For the first time since he'd arrived at the wedding celebrations, he'd found a window of peace for himself to take a moment and breathe. Recalling the conversation he'd shared with Rafa before he left for the airport- in which Rafa had been hyping him up and reassuring him he'd enjoy more than regret attending -, Daveed had to admit to himself that he was proud of how he'd done so far. Maybe not in the past hour of self pity with a side of substance abuse, but other than that he'd held himself together pretty well. He'd congratulated Raquel and her official wife, even sharing a dance with both of the women; he'd rekindled friendships, once he and they managed to push past the original discomfort of not having spoken in so long; he'd met some interesting strangers with fascinating stories; he'd ate some of the most lucrative meals he'd ever tasted and bore witness to a demonstration of pure love.

He was enjoying himself.

The only thing that made the evening unpleasant was when he'd finally zeroed in on Y/N and her smile; and the way the lights were making her eyes sparkle; and the way her dress was draped over her skin effortlessly.

The alcohol was beginning to take an effect on him, his mind becoming a little resentful towards Y/N. He'd never once hated her, even if it had been she who'd called quits on them, but he couldn't help blame her now for his situation. How was it fair that she got to move on with her life while he still could barely sit in the same room as her and keep his eyes from watching her every move, her every gesture?

“Shit.” Daveed huffed out over the sound of crickets and the muffled sound of the celebratory music, just as his lighter gave up on him and decided it would not be lighting up the cigarette for him this evening.

“We need to stop meeting this way.” He hated the way the resentment left him with as little as seven words. “People are going to start calling us predictable.”

Sure enough, when Daveed spun on his heel to face the balcony doors, there she was in all her glory, arm stretched out and lighter in hand. He wondered if she carried it around for her new man. Out here, her eyes were a lot less sparkling, her dress a lot less light, her smile a lot less wide but Daveed didn't find her any less ethereal. He never did.

“Uh,” She'd cleared her throat and Daveed felt embarrassment creep in. Here she was, perfectly composed and unaffected by him, whilst he was just as nervous as the day they had their first date; the day he'd first told her he loved her; the day he asked her to move to New York. “thank you.” He plucked the lighter from her and hit the clipper.

“No problem.” She took a sip of the glass in her hand and approached him more, till they were stood in parallel, shoulders an inch away from brushing, staring off into the dark abyss of the night that lay past the grounds of the vibrant wedding. “I see you got stuck sitting next to cousin Delia. On a score of one to ten, how bad is your headache?” Why was it so easy for her to joke around with him?

“Probably a solid seven. She talks a lot but at least there's never time for awkward silence with her.” He pulled in a drag and held back a groan when not even the nicotine could untense his muscles. “The ceremony was beautiful, you must be so happy for Raquel.”

“Yeah.” She sighed dreamily, head turning back to look at the balcony door, as if she were remembering just how beautiful indoors was. “I'm so glad everything went smoothly, they were both so stressed during the planning but it turned out exactly how they wanted.”

“They're lucky to have each other.” Why couldn't he see her engagement ring? Was she hiding it from him, out of pity? Did she know he was hung up on her? Daveed had spent so many months missing her only to resent the time he was spending with her. Stood on that balcony, hardly any space between them, Y/N had never felt further away. “So, how've you been? Like, work and shit.”

“I've been... good. Yeah, good.” There was a pause and they stood in silence, her staring off into space, him staring at her face. “I took the job, in the end, so there's that. Moved to Japan, got to have some new experiences and make new friends. Tried Sashimi, realized I do not like Sashimi. Oh! I got to watch cherry blossoms bloom. Just, yeah, I've been good.” She didn't tell him what he'd wanted to hear about. “How about you?”

“I've been great. Honestly. Work has been on the up and up since the show opened on Broadway, I’ve got some acting jobs lined up. Done some photo-shoots, made more music. Every night, there was another celebrity in the crowd. I mean, the President invited us to perform in the white house. I've been great in other parts of my life too, made some incredibly interesting friends.” Is everything Daveed wishes he said.

Instead, he said this: “Awful. I've been doing shit, for a while now.”

“D.” He couldn't help but hate the fact she called him by that. “I don't think we should get into this at Raquel's weddi-”

“Then when, Y/N?” Oh, he had not meant to sound so confrontational. Unfortunately, the little voice in his head that made up his ego was enticing him to keep going. “Ten years from now? Fifty? Oh, or should we do it at your wedding? I can't put this off any longer, alright? I'm miserable and,” He tried to compose himself, eyes squeezed shut and hands shoved in pockets. “and it's your fault. So no, we're having this conversation. You don't get to just meet someone new and act like what happened between us meant nothing, whilst I'm left frozen in a time where a reality TV star isn't our President and you're mine. Ok? I need to move on but I can't if we don't get closure.”

“It's my fault? Meet someone new!?” She was using the same tone of voice she'd used that night, when the fight to end it all first broke out. “Daveed, you ended things between us, not me. Or did you forget?”

“Weird, I don't remember breaking up with a guy named Daveed and slamming the door shut on my way out.” He stepped back, dropping the wasted cigarette into an ashtray. “But I remember you doing something along those lines.”

“Well, do you remember the part where your girlfriend told you she'd just been offered her dream job and all you had to say was that you two needed to break up?”

“The job was in Tokyo!”

“Oh! So, it was okay when I made the sacrifice of moving to New York with you but you couldn't just deal with some long-distance dating?”

“What did you want me to say, Y/N?” Up until then, their voices had been rising in volume but this time Daveed was softly spoken. “I was happy for you. But I also realized how much things wouldn't work between us. Between Broadway and you being all the way in Japan and the time difference, when would there be time for us?”

“If you really want something, there's always a way.” Y/N said, resting her back against the balcony ledge. “Maybe you just didn't want us, enough.”

“You didn't have to leave though.” He followed suit, back against ledge and feet crossed. “Yeah, I messed up and said something I didn't mean out of fear of losing you, but you didn't have to take my advice and actually walk out the door.”

“How was I supposed to stay after that? It stung, D. I thought you had more faith in us. But you weren't wrong, I guess hearing you say we'd have to break up made me realize just how much the job change would really effect us both. I think we both played our part in ending things- Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” One second, Daveed had been quietly reflecting on her every word. The next, spilled champagne was seeping through his white shirt.

“It's, uh, fine. No worries. I'll just go try get this off me.”

“Let me help!”

As a man, Daveed was shocked to see just how perfectly clean and nice smelling the female restroom was. Everything seemed to sparkle in the light. He had traded leaning his back against the balcony banister for leaning it against the counter top of the sinks, his own hands wiping at his shirt with paper towels Y/N was handing him. She'd quickly and carefully dragged him into the toilets and stripped him of his suit jacket, all the while apologizing again and again for having soaked him.

Surprisingly, he didn't care.

“You can be honest with me, you know.” He glanced at her before refocusing on his shirt. They'd been talking lightly, of things that held no real value but were preferred over the discussion on the balcony. “You can tell me if you found someone new.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing, really. I just, I saw you. A few months ago. You were getting fitted for an engagement ring with some man at your side.”

“Do you mean my cousin? Who was planning a proposal for his girlfriend?” He could see the amusement on her lips as she handed him another paper towel. He felt his heart rate pick up. “My turn. Why didn't you answer my text? If you were doing so bad, wouldn't you want to talk it out as soon as possible?”

“Text? What text?”

“The one I sent you on your birthday? We were in the same club but, I don't think you saw me.”

“Oh, I saw you. I think you were all I saw that night.” He instantly regretted what he said. “I mean, I lost my phone that night. Haven't seen it since.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Silence kept them apart for the rest of the time. Eventually, Daveed decided his shirt was as dry as it was going to get. Then, he felt it. Y/N, without missing a beat, reached up and adjusted his tie. Both their breaths caught in their throats. The silence between them became tension. In a matter of seconds, everything was turned around, literally. She was hoisted up on the counter and he was stood between her spread legs, his hands on her hips and hers going back and forth between running through his hair and gripping on to his damp shirt. They were doing their best to keep quiet, swapping moaning out for heavy breathing.

Daveed was struggling to think straight, between the familiarity of her skin and the scent of coconut, it was as if they'd spent no time apart. Suddenly, anyone else he'd slept with between their break up and now hadn't really counted and this was the first time he was being touched in years.

When it was over, he was speechless and she was incapable of not speaking.

“Okay, so, um, I'll sneak out first and then you just, wait in here for five minutes. Then slip out. That way, no one has to see us both exit the bathroom together. Okay, great catching up, see you when I see you. Bye!”

By the time he came back to his senses, he was stood alone in the female bathroom, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie discarded on the floor. He shoved it into his back pocket and slipped on the jacket of his suit, not bothering to even discreetly leave the toilets. Luckily, no one noticed him.

Returning to the event hall, he instantly began his search for Y/N but he failed to spot any sign of her. Had she vanished into thin air? Had she even been there?

“If you're looking for Y/N, she just bolted out of here like the floor was on fire. Pretty sure she called a cab but you didn't hear that from me.” He turned to find Raquel staring at him, a smile on her face. “Stop wasting time on staring at me and go get her, lover boy.”

Daveed did not need to be told twice, his history with running track kicking in as he raced out of the hall. He sped down the corridor, dodging any oncoming guests before he burst out of the doors, stepping out into the fresh air. He could see her in the distance, standing with her arms around herself as she shifted from side to side.

“Y/N!” Daveed yelled out as he ran over to her. When she made no attempt to move away from him, he felt hope begin to rise in his soul. “Why'd you leave?”

“Daveed, we don't have to do this. In fact, we shouldn't do this.”

“Have coffee with me.”

“D, I don't-”

“One coffee, that's it. You can even get it in a to-go cup. Y/N, it's just coffee, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage.” He loved the way she was struggling to hold back a smile. “So, what do you say?”

August, 2020

The world from his garden felt calm, peaceful, as if everything wasn't falling to shit in the midst of all kinds of disasters.

It was the middle of the night and, no matter how hard he tried, Daveed couldn't sleep. Even after having more or less quit a few years back, he could tell there was only one thing that was going to calm his nerves. So, creeping out of bed cautiously, he'd reached into his bedside drawer and grabbed the little packet he kept hidden beneath his socks. Maybe it was just the recent times taking a toll on him, quarantine beginning to exhaust him, but Daveed had been feeling more stressed out than ever.

He sighed, one hand rubbing at the sleep in his eye and the other trying to light up his cigarette. Then, he noticed the blue plastic and a whispered “Fuck.” escaped from him. If he'd considered heading back indoors to find his functioning lighter instead of the empty one, it didn't matter because the cigarette and it's packet were plucked away from him by smaller hands.

“You shouldn't be smoking, D.”

“I know, I know, it's bad for my health. Just, a little stressed.” He welcomed the way she wrapped her arms around his waist, molding herself into his side as he wrapped his own arm around her shoulder. “Better now that you're here.”

“Hmm.” She hummed sleepily, squeezing her arms around him some more. “You're so warm. Like, a human hot-water bottle.”

“Just say I'm hot, I already know you're thinking it.” His lips rested on her forehead and the scent of coconut consumed him.

“Why did I agree to marry a man with an ego the size of the Statue Of Liberty?”

“Because that man's love for you is the size of Mount Everest.” He soothingly rubbed her back, feeling himself finally wanting to fall asleep. “Plus, he has really good hair.”

When he fell asleep that night, it was in the same way he'd fallen asleep for the past few years, and how he wanted to fall asleep every night that remained in his time alive: with her between his arms. He'd gone from being as useless, soulless as an empty lighter without her by his side to now, where he never had to worry about not being able to spark up again. He had Y/N and he wouldn't let anything change that. Not distance, time, health, anything.

#daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs drabble #daveed diggs fanfiction #daveed diggs oneshot #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs scenario #daveed diggs fluff #daveed diggs hamilton #daveed diggs clipping.#valwrite #daveed diggs x y/n #daveed x reader

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keanuvibe · 4 years ago

Text

Professor Reeves (Keanu x Reader) Pt. 2

A/N: well, I’m not too proud of this one. I got super demotivated and kinda finished it just to finish it. I’m sorry y’all, I've been really insecure about my writing lately so, I just haven’t been posting. But, I managed to gather some courage I guess. (this is also unedited- straight off the grill)

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: smut, public sex

The echoed tick of the clock only seemed to add the anticipation that floated throughout the space, bringing excitement to each student who was eager for summer break. It’s Friday, the last Friday of the semester to be exact. Tomorrow, you and all of your peers will be free people until the coming fall. You’d already begun to make plans with June and her child, planning to become the fun ‘Aunt’ over the break. June had also asked you to move in. Knowing you live with your parents, and needing another set of hands around the house was her main reasoning. You couldn’t turn down the offer, and with your part-time waitressing job you can help with the bills.

Though you were eager for summer break, there was one thing you were going to miss about college. Your eyes raised from the book you were reading, focusing on your Drama teacher across the room. He sat at his desk, looking at his laptop screen with a furrowed brow. A little smile couldn’t help but crawl across your cheek at his focused expression. The end of the semester meant the end of your after school activities. The two of you hadn’t discussed the status of your ‘relationship’; mostly because you are too shy to ask. Hell, you’ve been seeing each other in the most vulnerable way for almost a year, yet you can’t ask him a simple question. The brain works in mysterious ways.

The bell ringing, dismissing class for the last time, startled you. The room immediately jumped to life as students rushed to say goodbye to Professor Reeves and ran out of the door. It seemed to have emptied quickly as you, June, and a few other stragglers remained.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early?” June asked, referring to your moving plans. She finished zipping up her bag and turned to face your person, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

“Bright and early.” A wide smile covered your cheeks as you nodded. June’s beaming gaze said all that it needed to as she huffed her backpack over her shoulder and said a quick goodbye before exiting. June didn’t know about you and your teacher, somehow you’d avoided the subject for the entire school year. She never questioned why you hadn’t gone on dates or mentioned anything along that sort, which you appreciated. She must know that in due time something will happen.

“So, what are your summer plans?” The familiar voice of your teacher caused chills to cover your spine. You hadn’t noticed the other students leaving, causing the two of you to be alone.

“Well, you already know June and I are moving in. Otherwise that? Working, probably.” You responded, slinging your bag over your shoulder and turning to face the man. “What about you?”

“Some house projects, maybe do a few local shows.” He spoke, leaning against one of the tables with his arms folded across his chest. “Speaking of; my band is doing a small gig tonight at the bar on forty-fifth and Gibson.”

“Band?” You questioned, raising a brow. He’s never made mention of being in a band before. Although, over the course of the year he’d surprised you with little details of his life. Like, for example, when you found out he builds and collects motorcycles. It was a wonderful little crack into his world; which he shielded most. You know his wife passed away twenty years ago, but he hadn’t talked to you about it; you only remember that from when June gave you the ‘run-down’. Maybe that was the start of privatizing his life.

“I play the bass. Have I never told you before?” His deep voice brought you back.

“No! That’s so hot.” You breathed, letting out a short laugh. You heard the man chuckle as well.

“It starts at nine, but we’ll be there by seven to set up.” The man spoke, standing up straight, padding closer to your shorter frame. You witnessed his eyes glance around the room before focusing back onto you. One of his arms pulled you into his chest while the other hand pulled your chin upwards. Your lips softly met, his stubble scratching your skin. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close before breaking the kiss.

“Okay, I’ll see you at eight. Fashionably late.” You let out a soft chuckle, feeling giddy from the energy he gave you. The man let out a snort, shaking his head at your comment.

“You have a habit of being late anyways.” His tone was laced with humor, but you fake scoffed to get a reaction.

“Maybe you’re just too early.”

“Sure, I’m just too early.” The man's response made you giggle before you quickly pulled him in for another kiss. His arms pulled you close, hands roaming your bum. The kiss deepend slightly, however, you pulled away wanting to tease.

“I’ll see you tonight, Professor.” You spoke low, biting your lip as you pulled away and stepped back. Your teacher’s eyes scanned your full figure up and down; eyes dark with want. You knew you had him hooked, causing goosebumps to form across your skin.

The cold night air nipped at your exposed legs as you walked towards the entrance of the bar. Packs of people stood outside, some smoking, others held bottles of alcohol as they socialized. The music that thumped inside could be heard as the bass slightly shook the walls. Looking down at the watch donning your wrist, the clock read 7:43. You were late, but not as late as you joked. Pushing through one group, you found the entrance. You handed the bouncer your ID prompting him to read and scan the card before letting you pass through. The music quickly got louder as you entered the space. It was full, people were definitely shoved into the small-ish space. At one end of the long rectangle room was the actual bar, and on the opposite side was a small stage where the DJ stood pumping his fist to the beat.

Scanning the room, you found the familiar tall man standing at the bar, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. Smiling and subconsciously fixing your outfit, you quickly pushed through the herds to reach the bar. Once there, you tapped on his shoulder, prompting the man to turn around. His face beamed with excitement upon seeing you.

“You made it!” He exclaimed over the music. You nodded, standing on your tippy toes and pulling him in for a quick kiss. The man obliged, leaning in with eagerness before you broke away.

“Of course I made it!” You responded, rubbing your hand along the front of his chest. He was dressed down, only wearing a t-shirt with a front pocket and jeans. His long hair was uncombed and disheveled too, just as you loved it. He seemed to be slightly buzzed as well; his cheeks giving it away by being faintly flushed.

“Do you want to move to a booth where it’s quieter?” He then asked, leaning close to your ear. You nodded, smelling the dark liquor that stained his breath. The man grasped your hand and led the way; pushing aside the crowds with ease. You couldn’t help but wonder where the rest of his band was, if they were out mingling before the party as well; and, if you’re going to be introduced or not.

Keanu gestured for you to slide into the seat first, and you complied. The man followed in, sitting closely to your figure. It was quieter now, being you’d moved to a different side of the bar. A few other groups occupied the remaining booths, lost in their own worlds.

“Drinking before the show?” You questioned with a cheeky smile, turning your figure to face the man better in the seat. The teacher laughed, holding up the glass in his hand.

“Calms my nerves.” He humored, looking back at you. “And, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. I picked my skimpiest dress, just for you.” You responded, giving him a sarcastic wink. It felt really wonderful to just sit here and goof around with Keanu. Over the year, your meet-up’s were kind of like dates; romantic events and happenings, rather than just two people getting drunk.

“I appreciate it.” The man smirked, his eyes visibly trailing your figure; stopping at your cleavage for just a little longer. You slyly placed your hand on his thigh, leaning into his body a little more. Once your eyes met, they didn't break contact as the man set his drink back down and snaked his other hand around your waist pulling your body as close as the booth could handle.

“You're handsy when you're drinking.” You giggled, enjoying the sensation of his touch. His answer was a low chuckle and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I don't have to hide you anymore.” Keanu then spoke near your ear. Goosebumps covered your skin as the words left his lips, prompting your stomach to flutter as well. You didn't answer, only placed your hands onto the sides of his cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. The man's hands grasp your ass tightly, a soft moan escaping his lips as he did so.

Pulling away, you looked up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes were dark with lust, casting the look that gave you butterflies and caused your core to throb. Biting your lip, you ran your hands over his growing bulge, being discreet enough that the other patrons wouldn't notice.

“Oh baby, we shouldn't.” The teacher finally spoke, though you could tell he didn't want to stop.

“I just like to tease.” You mused, a cheeky smile crossing your cheeks as you slid off his lap and onto the booth. The man clicked his tongue, lifting his drink and taking a sip. He nodded towards you after swallowing, agreeing with your statement.

“You do like to tease.” He spoke, “It’s mean.” He added, humor evident in his tone. You stuck your tongue out, giving him a taunting wink in the process. He chuckled lowly, sipping his drink again. Turning your head, you managed to catch the waitress and order a drink. She brought it back before you had time to jump into another conversation with the man across you.

The first sip of alcohol slid down your throat with a wonderful mix of ease and burn. In the lull of conversation you observed the area you two sat in. It wasn't the big rectangle room; it was a different space off of the main area. That explains why it was quieter, and less crowded. Your eyes found their way back to the handsome man sitting across from you. He smiled warmly when your gazes met, making you giggle.

“I like you.” He smirked, one of his large hands reaching across the table for your own. Lacing your fingers together, you enjoyed the feeling of his roughened skin.

“I like you too.” You responded, biting the inside of your cheek with glee. To think, at the beginning of the school year, this was only a fling. You've gotten to know this beautiful soul for nine months, not even realizing he’s kinda been your boyfriend the whole time.

You haven't specified anything per your agreement, of course. But now? The year is over, maybe Keanu would like to take it further. Sure you faced some minor hurdles; like your age gap, telling family, and, telling June as well. She’s graduating in a couple days anyways; however, would she be comfortable with a former teacher staying over some nights? It made you sweat a little, but you took a deep breath to soothe your nerves.

“Keanu?” You then asked, grabbing the man's attention. He raised his brow, waiting for you to say whatever you were going to. You studied his features as you forced yourself to speak.

“I-I don't know if this is the right time,” Your eyes quickly gazed to the drink in your grasp, fidgeting with the glass. “But… What are we?”

Gathering the courage, you met the eye line of the man across from you. He seemed like he didn't have an answer, which was fine. You did spring the question on him out of nowhere. He opened his mouth to speak, however, was interrupted.

“Hey- uh, sorry. We’ve gotta set up, man.” A deep male voice commented. Turning your head, you met the sight of a man, dressed casually like Keanu. He looked near the professor's age as well.

“Oh, right.” Keanu spoke, scooting out of the booth. “The show should be starting soon, um… we’ll talk after.” With that, he slid out and clapped the man on the shoulder as they exited the space. Exhaling, you didn't even notice you'd been holding a breath.

Herds of people began to form a group in front of the small stage, but you stayed back by the bar; drink in hand. Shortly after Keanu left, you sat and overthunk for a minute or two before deciding that getting more drunk is the answer. It hurt that he didn’t have an immediate answer, you couldn’t deny that. And now you have to wait for him to perform instead of leaving and secluding yourself in your room for a few days.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” Someone calling your name caught your attention as you turned to see who spoke. Your eyes widened upon seeing your ex-boyfriend, Jake Stevens. The two of you grew up together, and actually dated through junior and senior years of high school; sharing interests in wanting to pursue acting. When you moved to New York, he followed. However, things quickly fizzled once you two were out in the real world. The cozy comfort of romanticized adulthood in your New York apartment was nice for it’s time. You haven't seen him in over nine years, since the split.

“Oh my god, Jake Stevens!” You exclaimed, buzzed by the few drinks you've managed to scarf down. The man raised his brows and laughed at your reaction, enjoying the energy you gave.

“How've you been? I haven't seen you since New York! What’re you doing back home?” The man hurled his questions at you with an eagerness for an answer. You took another sip of your drink before answering.

“I’ve been alright, just uh, living my life.” You responded to his first question before moving on, “And, I guess New York wasn't for me. So I moved back home two- well, now three- years ago and actually just finished my first year of community college.” Beaming, you brought your drink to your lips and took a sip. Jake laughed and raised his glass as a ‘cheers’ before he too took a drink.

“What’ve you been up to?” You then asked. Jake began to give you an answer, but the feeling of someone staring at you caused your skin to crawl. Turning your eyes and glancing towards the stage, you saw Keanu standing in a group with his other band members, However, the teacher's gaze was stuck on you. Your stomach dropped at the intense stare, but you swallowed the fear. Before now, the man hasn’t really shown signs of jealousy. Then again, you’ve never actually been on a public date before; let alone a bar date.

“(Y/N)?” Jake’s voice brought you back and you quickly looked back to the man in front of you. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry... Just drunk.” You quickly shook off his comment and took another sip from your drink. You could still feel Keanu’s eyes set on you, and could only imagine the rage he must be feeling by seeing Jake talk with you.

“So, you here to support local entertainment?” He then asked, gesturing to the stage. You felt the man's eyes scan over your cleavage, but brushed it aside. “Every Friday, this bar hosts an open mic night. I've been coming for a couple months now. I assume a fellow actor would want to take advantage of that.” Jake winked towards you, flashing a smile but you shook your head, preparing to answer.

“Oh! No, actually, I know somebody performing tonight.” You answered, your eyes turning back towards Keanu. He wasn’t looking this time, instead he was focused on his bass, holding it to his ear as he tuned it.

“Is he like your boyfriend or something?” Jake’s tone was somehow defensive and sarcastic at the same time. You furrowed your brow, confused at his sudden change in behavior. Did he think he was going to get lucky?

“Well, No- But-” You stuttered out a few words before being interrupted.

“Then, can I buy you a drink?” Jake’s voice asked close to your ear. “We can catch up, head back to my place.” The wink at the end of his sentence said all it needed to.

“Gross, Jake.” You quickly scoffed and pushed him away before sliding off of the barstool and making your way towards the crowd. Pushing through, you managed to get to a spot near the front left, on the side Keanu was standing. His eyes were scanning the crowd, undoubtedly trying to find you. Once he reached your side, you raised your arm slightly higher, waving to gather his attention.

The singer announced the first song before counting off, sending the group into the number. The crowd began to react, dancing and jumping around to the energetic song. The drinks you had consumed began to take over your body as the music thumped loudly throughout the space, prompting you to sway your hips to the beat.

You watched as the man expertly played his instrument, clearly knowing it well. His fingers plucked the strings perfectly, eyes focused downwards. His long hair flowed in front of his face, but you could still make out the expressions he held. His skin glowed with sweat, only adding to the fantasies growing in your imagination. Now you understand as to why he's so skilled with his fingers.

Keanu finally looked up from his bass, eyes settling on your figure in the crowd. A little smirk grew across his cheeks as he witnessed you dancing in the petite dress clinging to your body. The way you beautifully filled it out- fabric hugging your curves in every perfect way, accentuating your breasts and bum- was so agonizing for the man. Plus, witnessing another random guy trying to flirt with you only added to the flame.

Though it seems like you've managed to ditch the random guy, Keanu still couldn't help but feel a jealous and possessive nature take over. Of course the first night you're out together, you get hit on. He's always thought you're too beautiful and free for him. You're young, full of vigor and energy; He’s old and a boring teacher. You like to do adventurous things, he likes routine. Though you've got those differences, he wasn't going to let you get away.

After you asked ‘What are we?’ The man didn't know how to answer; being scared of your reaction. Love isn’t something that comes easy to him, and his feelings for you were a little overwhelming at first. He’s had to relearn how to be affectionate and allow himself to be loved. Alas, with each meet-up it became easier and easier to allow you deeper into his life.

The whole set lasted maybe fifteen minutes. The band played through three songs before closing out and exiting the stage. Pushing through the herds and heading back to the bar, you found a clearing and shoved your way in to order more drinks. Just as the bartender slid the glasses in your direction, a hand warmly placed itself on your lower back. However, before you could flip around and see the assailant, Keanu’s warm voice gently whispered in your ear.

“Hi beautiful.”

Goosebumps littered your skin as you flipped around, eyes meeting those of your teacher. He was sweaty from performing still, a large wet stain covering the front of his shirt. Grasping the sweat-stained article, you pulled him in for a tight kiss. The man chuckled before kissing you back with a matched vigor. His large hands slid down your body, nearly grasping your ass before you remembered where you were, and broke the embrace.

“Someone’s eager!” You giggled over the music. Keanu leaned in close to your ear, pinning you between himself and the bar. His beard tickled your ear once again.

“I mean, have you seen yourself tonight, (Y/N)” His voice was low, causing your stomach to drop and a heartbeat to form between your thighs. Letting out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttered closed; imagining the things he’s going to be doing to you later.

“That other guy couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.” The jealousy and frustration was evident in the teachers voice. “Like you are just some play thing.” He grasped the drink you’d ordered for him, leaning away and taking a sip of the dark liquor. Biting your lip, you took advantage of not being pinned, and innocently ran your hand down his still sweaty chest. His gaze looked down, meeting your own. Mustering up the most naive smile and wide-eyed look, you ran your hand down further; caressing his semi-hard cock over his jeans. Raising his brow, You could tell he was turned on.

Setting the drink back down, Keanu grabbed your hand tightly, pulling you away from the bar. He managed to shove through the crowds to a secluded hallway back by the bathrooms. The man looked both ways, checking for other patrons, before he quickly opened a door that led to a one stall bathroom. Pulling you in and closing the door, you heard the lock click. Anticipation filled your belly when the teacher flipped around, his eyes filled with lust.

He stepped towards you, large arms scooping you up and placing you onto the small counter surrounding the sink. Your lips met with a firm, impatient passion as you wrapped your legs around his figure, pulling your bodies close. Eagerly, his large hands searched your torso before finding the zipper to your small dress. You wasted no time undoing his belt and button, slipping your hand underneath his boxers. A low moan escaped Keanu’s mouth, only fueling your fire.

Pulling down the zipper, the dress slid off your chest. The man broke the kiss, eyes immediately looking towards your nearly bare skin. You couldn’t help but giggle, quickly unhooking your bra and freeing it from your body. Large hands replaced the article, gently kneading your breasts. Your lips reunited with Keanu’s; more fire coursing through your veins than before.

Hooking your fingers and sliding down the teacher’s jeans and underwear, his cock sprang free from it’s confinement. Coyly wrapping your hand around him, you gave a few pumps prompting the man to moan softly. He was quick to reciprocate, slipping one hand past the waistline of your panties, while the other remained on your breast. His middle finger knew exactly where to find your clit, rubbing gently.

“You’re so wet, baby.” Keanu broke the kiss, eyes meeting your own. Joy filled his expression watching how well he was pleasuring you with just his finger.

“All for you,” You breathed a reply, the sensation giving you the familiar warm burn in your belly. The teacher removed his hand, noting the change in your breath; however, before you had time to complain, he pulled you off the counter, flipped you around and bent you over. You could feel his cock against your bare bum, only adding to your excitement. Sneaking your hand down, you gave your clit a few rubs; however Keanu’s hand caught your wrist quickly after. You heard him click his tongue in disappointment.

“No touching, darling. Hands on the counter.” His low voice gave you chills, quickly doing as he asked. His body leaned over your own, chest lining up with your back as he kissed your neck. One hand gathered your loose hair, pulling it into a makeshift pony within his grasp. The man loved the control he had when you were in this position. You felt as his beard gently scratched your back with each kiss. Your skin felt hypersensitive with each touch, electricity filling your belly.

With one quick motion, the man thrust, burying himself deep inside your heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed in the small space, however the thump of the music covered it for the most part. Using his free hand, the man’s finger returned to your clit. He quickly found a rhythm, matching whatever song was playing outside.

With your hair still in his hand, you were able to watch your reflections in the mirror. The man’s gaze was focused on your ass, watching as he fucked you. His hair fell disheveled around his face, hiding most of his expression. He’d never taken off his shirt, only adding more sweat to the already stained article.

A stinging slap against your bum caused you to cry out, gathering the man's attention. Noticing your reflections, a lustful smirk covered his cheeks as he gained a faster rhythm, slapping your other cheek, kneading the skin gently, afterwards. The man released his fingers from your hair, now using his large arm to hold you in place, veins and biceps glistening from sweat. His finger against your clit gained speed as well, almost prompting your knees to buckle. However, Keanu’s grip is so tight holding your hips, you doubt you could fall if you wanted to.

The familiar heat began to burn your lower belly, all sensations becoming nearly overwhelming. Crying out, your orgasm took you by surprise. Feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, the man tightened his grip on your hips, sure to leave a bruise. You could feel as his thrust became sloppier and sloppier until he too finished, still buried in your heat.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Your teacher spoke softly, looking at your reflection.

“Of course I will.”

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu x you #keanu x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves smut #keanu smut #keanu reeves x you

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