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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Text

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer.

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes.

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just… two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance.

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind.

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded.

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child.

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries.

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them.

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it.

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.”

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening.

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today, no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown.

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round.

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now.

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles.

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye.

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults.

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.”

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told.

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire.

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down.

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?”

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat.

“Fuck!”

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor.

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading.

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife.

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance.

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

“Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal.

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.”

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin.

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain.

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly.

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. .

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest.

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.”

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me.

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees.

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly.

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him.

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…” he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms.

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.”

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again.

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now.

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine.

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name.

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x OFC #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader

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babygirlgalitzine · 3 years ago

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what’s yours is mine (ao3)

one

There’s a chill in the air, fresh and yet terribly cold. It paints Ben’s cheeks rosy red before he even properly emerges from his slumber, his bed sheets bunching up underneath his chin, all comfortable and at peace. He lets his eyes open slowly, the light shining in and causing him to wince at the brightness of it. A yawn escapes his lips as he stretches his body out, one arm reaching across the bed sheets, feeling the warmth left behind by Callum. He smiles to himself softly, knowing that Callum’s only just woken up, otherwise his side of the bed would be stone cold by now. He rolls over slightly, his head resting partially on Callum’s pillow and if he allows himself too, he could easily start to drift off back to sleep. Instead, he realises just how cold it is in the air, and a tingle falls across his body, a shiver running down his spine. He wraps himself up in his sheets once again, shying away from the cold air. He breathes slowly, trying to find the energy to wake up properly, and get out of bed. He reaches out and finds his glasses and his hearing aid. When he puts them on, it’s like everything is suddenly so much clearer. He lets his eyes and ears adapt to the change, a ringing in his ears for a moment or two before he can actually start to hear things better. He smiles to himself softly as he hears music playing faintly from outside the bedroom door. He pulls the bed sheets off of him, feeling the cold air hitting his body instantaneously, causing a prickle to form across his skin.

Hanging off of the top bed post is Callum’s grey hoodie. Ben notices it instantly when he looks around, trying to find something to cover him up from the cold air. He reaches for it, and shrugs it on, over his shoulders. It’s far too big for him, but he doesn’t mind that one bit. It’s comforting, and he bunches up the excess sleeves in his hands, holding one hand up to his nose and inhaling, noticing how it smells perfectly like Callum, warm and inviting and like home.

He smiles softly to himself, and pads out of the bedroom, the music getting louder now. Callum’s singing along quietly, forgetting half of the words to the song and just humming aimlessly along instead. He’s standing in the kitchen, shirtless, because he’s one of those people that just never feel the cold, no matter the temperature. Ben’s jealous of that, but he loves it all the same, because it means that Callum’s always able to warm him up.

Callum must’ve been able to hear Ben walking behind him, because he turns around with a beaming grin on his face, getting even brighter when he sees what Ben’s wearing. “Morning!” He exclaims, bright and bold and excitable. He holds his arms out, wide in front of him and Ben’s stomach flips. “Come ‘ere.”

Ben walks right into the embrace, resting his arms against Callum’s back, sinking into the touch. He’s at peace in Callum’s arms, warm and free and perfectly comfortable, without a worry or doubt in the world. This is where he is meant to be.

“This is unexpected.” Callum speaks once more, his words pressing into Ben’s wild morning hair.

Ben looks up at Callum through fluttering eyelashes, a hint of confusion written on his face. “What is?” He asks, a shy chuckle falling from his lips.

Callum pulls away from the hug slightly, though their bodies remain just as close. His hands wrap around Ben’s shoulders, falling down to his biceps. Callum strokes Ben’s arms for a moment or two, just staring at him, until he lets his hands just rest there, just above his elbows. “I love you wearing my clothes.” He states, and his cheeks start to burn.

A grin appears on Ben’s face. “It was the first thing I saw.” He said. “It’s freezing in the bedroom.”

Callum raises a hand, resting his fingers against Ben’s chin, his index finger hooking underneath his chin and his thumb just resting there, brushing against his stubble. “You can wear whatever you want. I certainly won’t complain about seeing you in my clothes.”

Ben grins even wider and stands on the tips of his toes as he leans up to kiss Callum softly, a perfect, wanting touch. “What’s for breakfast?”

two

He stands there in the shower, alone with just his thoughts. This is the place he’s at his most isolated. This is the place he can’t hear, or barely see. It’s so lonely, and frightening, and he used to hate it. But now there’s a sense of peace around it. Now, he can imagine exactly what’s going on outside of his small area. He can imagine Callum fussing around, listening to music as he usually does. He can imagine Lexi dancing along, teaching Callum new dance moves, when they have her around at the flat. He can just picture how easy it all is, how simple life is - how perfect.

Water runs down his body, hitting his head firstly, flattening his hair to the shape of his skull, having it fall down to below his brow bone, sticking there. The water dips into his ears, and that’s the thing he hates the most, because the little hearing he did have is now completely gone, lost in a watery void for a few hours at least. The water is warm as it soaks him entirely. Through blurry eyes he spots a shower gel, green in colour. He pops upon the lid and smiles to himself, because it’s the unmistakable scent of Callum. He brings it closer to his nose and it grounds him, the distinctive scent he gets to witness each day. He decides to use it, mainly because he doesn’t have it in him to blurrily look for his own, at least not whilst the water is finally reaching the perfect temperature - not skin melting hot nor teeth chattering cold. He rubs it across his body, watching the soapy suds wash away as the water continues to stream down his body, swirling down the plug hole.

He turns the water off, watching as the last few remaining drops fall down in front of him. Then he realises. He’s not brought in any fresh clothes to the bathroom. He chuckles softly to himself as he shakes his head softly, rubbing at his hair with a towel. On the radiator, he notices a pair of boxers. They aren’t his, so he knows that they must be Callum’s. He could easily just walk out of the bathroom in just a towel, neither of them would mind. He’s done it before, and he’ll probably do it again. But something is telling him to wear the boxers instead, and so he puts on his hearing aid and his glasses as well as the boxers, and steps outside of the bathroom, the cool air hitting almost instantaneously on his exit, and he realises just how humid the bathroom gets whilst he’s in the shower.

Callum doesn’t even look at him, he just starts to talk. Ben walks past, straight into their bedroom. “We could go out after I’ve had this meeting.” Callum says, and when there’s no response, he looks around to find that Ben isn’t there. He furrows his eyebrows and walks towards the bedroom, presuming that Ben would be in there. “I was saying, Ben, we could go out somewhere after I’ve finished at this meeting. It shouldn’t take too long. We can go and get food.”

He pauses in his stature, frozen for a moment or two. Then he grins wildly and reaches out, pressing his hand to Ben’s backside and squeezing cheekily. “Peachy.” He chuckles to himself and his feet catch up with his body, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Ben’s waist, standing there with a whisker of a gap between their torsos. “You wearing my clothes again?” He asks, pressing his lips to the back of Ben’s neck.

“What do you mean?” Ben asks, though he’s trying to stop himself from laughing. He turns his face to look at Callum, and they’re so close together.

“These.” Callum stays, dipping the tips of his fingers inside the waistband of the boxers. “Are mine.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “What’s yours is mine, babe. I thought we’d already established that.” He grins.

Callum chuckles softly and Ben turns under his touch, their chests now together. Callum lets his fingers dip down into the waistband once more, this time resting his hand there without a care in the world. “It’s hot.” He confirms. “You’re hot.”

Ben presses a warm kiss to Callum’s lips and then pulls back. “Notice anything else?” He asks.

Confusion strikes over Callum’s face as he cocks one eyebrow questioningly. He looks at Ben’s face, studying him as if Ben’s going to ask how many freckles he can count. He watches as Ben’s smile grows wider and wilder and starts chuckling to himself - and then it hits Callum. “You smell like me.”

“Bingo.” Ben smirks, and his giddiness grows when his boyfriend's lips are pressing right against his neck.

three

They’re sitting cross legged on the floor, with piles of clothes and boxes surrounding them. It’s the early afternoon and the light shines easily through the windows, brightening up the entire room. There’s a silence between them mostly, though it’s a comfortable silence as their elbows occasionally knock against one another as they move with ease.

It’s strange, really. Right from the beginning of their relationship, they had clothes all over the place, with Ben leaving some items at Callum’s flat and vice versa. It got to the point where they couldn’t remember which shirt belonged to who, or where anything was. Now, they’re married, with bands on their ring fingers and a promise of being together forever whispered between them, the words engraved on their rings. Now, they’re moving into their first proper home together, and to do that, they need to sort through all of their things. Callum throws a shirt at Ben’s face, chuckling to himself as it practically wraps around his face. “That’s got a hole in.” Callum says.

Ben rolls his eyes and scrunches the shirt up, throwing it into an already overflowing bin bag. “Why do we have so many clothes?” He groans, attempting to stretch his body out across the floor, but his attempt is in vain because he’s got so much around him he can barely move.

Callum scoffs out a laugh. “We?” He asks sarcastically, raising one eyebrow, tilting his head to one side. “Most of this is yours! I’d put money on betting you’ve got more clothes than Lexi.”

“I definitely don’t.” Ben states. “Anyway, I’m not the one who’s just bought her three dresses in one go.”

Callum knows he’s defeated there, Ben’s right. He sighs. “They all looked so cute though, I couldn’t resist.”

Ben chuckles softly with a shake of his head.

It’s all so domestic.

Callum opens up a new bin bag and starts to put more clothes in there. Ben leans forward, grabbing another pile of clothes to put in front of him and before he starts to work his way through them, something catches his eye. It’s in the corner of their wardrobe, almost hidden away, long since forgotten about. He rocks forward on his knees and Callum watches him. “What are you doing?” He laughs.

Ben ignores him for a moment, pulling out the material and holding it up in front of him. “This has to be yours.” Ben grins. He’s holding up a purple jumper, with orange on the front. It’s all crumpled, more creases on it than anything else. “I’ve never seen you in purple before. At least not voluntarily.” He remembers that time he caught Callum dancing around with Lexi, wearing bright purple fairy wings on his back.

Callum rolls his eyes, staying silent as Ben chuckles to himself. He’s sure his cheeks are bright red, for no reason at all. He continues to fold up some clothes, putting them in a neat pile. Whilst he’s distracted, he doesn’t notice Ben’s movements - at least, not until he looks up. Then he sees Ben wearing it, wearing Callum’s old favourite jumper. The colour has faded now since the last time he saw it, but it’s still distinctively his. Ben tries to smooth it down with his hands, but the creases look like they’re there permanently now. He pushes and pulls at the sleeves slightly, letting them bunch around his wrists because they’re far too long on him.

Callum smiles shyly as he watches Ben, and he bites at his bottom lip to try and hide the grin. Ben copies Callum’s smile and he moves closer to him, closer and closer still, until he’s wrapping his arms around Callum and sitting down on Callum’s lap. Before Callum can even speak, Ben’s kissing him intensely, grounding him completely. Tingles appear on his lips and he snakes his arms around Ben’s body, holding onto him and never wanting to let go. He eventually manages to pull himself away from the kiss and his head is spinning, all dizzy from the touch. It’s crazy, how Ben can continue to make him feel this way. He looks down, a shy grin on his face, and then he lets his eyes trial right the way back up Ben’s body. “You suit it.” He admits.

Ben chuckles. “It’s getting thrown.”

Callum pouts dramatically and Ben leans in for yet another kiss, this time soft and short and yet still spine tingling. “You’ve got plenty more jumpers I can steal babe.”

plus one

Callum rushes around manically, worrying about everything that could possibly go wrong - the traffic, accidentally saying the wrong thing, getting toothpaste all the way down his suit. It’s an important day for him, the first stepping stone to a new career, a fresh start. Anxiety swirls through him - which is ironic, given that his interview is for the role of a counsellor.

He looks down at himself and runs his hand down his shirt, trying to work out what’s missing. He pauses for a moment or two, catching his reflection in the mirror, and then he realises. “Tie.” He mutters out with a shake of his head. “Need a tie.”

Callum walks into the bedroom, right in the place where he and Ben keep their ties, a small collection hidden away in a drawer, folded up neatly.

Ben watches him as his eyes scan across the ties. He chuckles softly to himself when he sees the item that Callum picks out. “Stealing from me, are we?” He teasingly asks.

It’s as though he’s a deer in the headlights, worry clearly evident on his face. His eyes are wide and a beet red blush erupts across his skin, burning the tips of his ears. He opens his mouth to fumble out an apology, but his brain doesn’t quite connect and no words manage to come out, he just stands there opening and closing his mouth. He can see that Ben’s just joking, thankfully, and suddenly he gets this new sense of bravery wash over him. He chuckles softly and grins cheekily, putting the tie over his shoulders and just letting it sit there. “What’s yours is mine babe, what’s yours is mine.” He responds.

Ben shakes his head with a grin, in complete disbelief that he could ever get this lucky. How this man is his husband, he’ll never know. He walks over to Callum, instantly forgetting what he was supposed to be doing before. He just wants to be near Callum now, it’s a pull he can never resist, nor would he ever want to. He stands right in front of Callum, partially blocking his view to their mirror, and takes the tie in his hands. He lets it rest for a second, before he pulls up the collar of Callum’s shirt, making sure that the tie was perfectly underneath the collar. “Never did get to do this for our wedding, did I?” He asks absentmindedly, starting to wrap the wider side of the tie around the thinner side.

“I seem to remember you taking it off though.” Callum bites at the inside of his bottom lip. He watches Ben intensely as he moves. He sees the blush form across his face, mixing with the freckles that scatter across his face. Ben’s focusing solely on the tie, though occasionally Callum catches his eyes flickering up to look at him.

“I’m proud of you, you know?” Ben asks, pulling the tie through the loop and tightening it. “So proud of you. You’re going to smash this interview, I know it. You’re amazing. You’ve been through so much, especially in these last couple of years, and now you’re going to help so many people. That’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.”

Callum smiles softly and there’s a lump in his throat from getting choked up, watery eyes threatening to have tears falling down his cheek at any given moment. “Thank you.” He says, but it comes out like a whisper, his voice hoarse.

“I love you.” Ben admits, wrapping his arms around Callum’s shoulders, his hands interlinking at the back of head, careful to not mess up his hair.

Callum’s hands rest on Ben’s waist, their bodies close together. “I love you too.” He responds, and leans down into a kiss. Instantly, he feels at ease, comfortable. All the worry and stress and anxiety just dissipates and he knows he can do this, because he has Ben right by his side.

#ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell #callum highway #myfic

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syntheticpoetry · 4 years ago

Text

The Ghosts That We Knew

See my original post on the origins of this story here!

Summary: Blaine Anderson is no stranger to hospitals and has been volunteering on the pediatric unit of Lima General Hospital for years when Kurt Hummel comes along. After Blaine is attacked at his school's Sadie Hawkins Dance, he has his best friend Kurt to help him deal with the aftermath. And when Kurt becomes the target of the McKinley football team's bullying campaign, he can count on Blaine to have his back.

AU where Blaine transfers to McKinley instead of Dalton. Set during season 1.A story of two best friends finding courage to face their bullies and discovering love along the way.

Author’s Note: Blaine has a reason he has been in an out of the hospital since childhood that will be revealed, but if you are overly cautious of the level of angst surrounding it I can assure you it's nothing heartbreaking/super serious. It's actually quite common. I cannot thank @esperantoauthor enough for beta reading this for me and really helping me whip it into shape!

AO3 Link || FFN Link

Chapter 1: Of Viral Videos and Disney Princes

The last time that Kurt Hummel remembers being in a hospital, he told his mother that he loved her for the last time.

That was six years ago.

As he walks through the lobby, towards the directory by the elevators, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, careful not to spare a glance at the waiting area to his right. He spent so many months in that waiting room. Entire seasons, multiple holidays spent watching people receive good news and bad news, with his father stoic and silent beside him as his mother underwent procedure after procedure. Until it was their turn to be the family that received bad news. The doctor sounded sincere as he said a lot of big words Kurt could not quite understand at the time, but he understood the look on his father’s face. He took to studying the ugly designs on the carpet to distract from the tight clench in his father’s jaw, the way he kept himself so still and barely blinked through the entire explanation— Kurt knew, even at eight years old, what it was like to use up all of your willpower to hold yourself together for the sake of someone else. To this day, he cannot look at paisley print without thinking back to that awful day.

Kurt scans the directory before punching the up button to call the elevator and folds his arms across his chest, tapping his foot as he awaits its arrival. When he first heard about the volunteer program on the pediatric unit he was naturally hesitant to return to the place that held some of his worst memories. He had been on the fence about it all summer, torn between the desire to give back to the hospital staff that had gone above and beyond in their attempts to cure his mother’s cancer and wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the place where they finally had to say goodbye to each other.

Until he saw that YouTube video.

A curly-haired boy with big doe eyes and an unwavering grin, guitar in hand, leading a Disney themed sing-along with a group of elementary school age kids. The warmth that spread through Kurt’s chest was almost overwhelming as he watched the boy march around the room performing Hakuna Matata with the parade of children trailing behind, mimicking him raucously and off-key. It was the first time Kurt had really smiled in a long time.

So he had decided to look into the program. Mostly because witnessing the boundless energy of pure joy from each child singing along in that video elicited memories of countless nights of living room performances with his own father, both of them puffy-eyed and exhausted but still managing to find the stamina to sing at the top of their lungs, using the furniture as stage props. They were two lost souls attempting to cling to each other through tidal waves of insurmountable grief, and those nights together— well, those nights wereeverything to Kurt. He had never felt closer to his father than when they were both breathless and laughing their way through the most eclectic collection of songs imaginable, hugging each other tightly at the end of each performance.

And if Kurt happened to run into the boy from the video along the way, well, that would certainly just be an added bonus. Kurt did have eyes after all. And there was no denying the boy’s natural charm or the air of confidence with which he carried himself.

Truth be told, entering yet another school year with no friends was beginning to take its toll on Kurt and the possibility of finding camaraderie with a cute boy who seemingly shared similar interests was certainly enticing.

Ding!

The doors slide open before him revealing an empty elevator. Kurt steps in and presses the button for the fourth floor. He thinks about that video and jumping on armchairs and couches in his living room with his father for the entire ride up.

***

He has to be buzzed in to enter the unit, which he thinks is strange. But the woman who greets him, a young nurse with bright green eyes and deep auburn hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, explains it is the protocol for all pediatric units in order to prevent children from wandering away or being kidnapped. There are security bracelets around each patient’s ankle that trigger an alarm if they are taken past a bright yellow line painted on the floor.

“Who would kidnap sick kids from a hospital?” Kurt asks, looking absolutely horrified.

“You would be surprised at how common it is. Parents fighting over custody, usually.”

He nods and guesses that makes sense, but the thought is still deeply unsettling.

The hallways are empty as she leads him to a room behind the nurse’s station. The unit is certainly much different from the one his mother had been on. The walls are covered in murals of different cartoon characters and scenes from popular storybooks. While the nurse punches in a code, Kurt studies a painting of Rapunzel in a high stone tower, golden plaited hair strung over the edge of the window for a handsome prince at the bottom. The door buzzes and she holds it open for him. “I’ll let my supervisor know you’re here.”

Kurt thanks her and takes a seat at one of the tables to wait. On the far wall he spots a bulletin board covered in an overabundance of overlapping photos, hand-drawn pictures and a variety of cards both homemade and store-bought. He casts a quick glance towards the door before crossing the room to investigate. He cannot help but smile as he scans over the collection of memories, reminiscing back to his own pile of hand drawn cards for the staff on the oncology unit.

Then something catches his eye.

It’s the curly haired boy from the video. He’s standing, guitar in hand with the strap over his shoulder, in the center of a group photo, surrounded by children of varying ages and the unit staff. His outfit is different from the one in the video though. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a printed T-shirt, only the edges of the otherwise obscured design visible from behind the guitar over his torso. In the video he had certainly seemed more, well, put together, to say the least. He had worn light grey slacks and a navy polo shirt accented with a white bow tie, which Kurt could not help but notice because he could count on one hand the amount of teenage boys he had ever seen wearing bow ties in the state of Ohio, himself included.

Kurt wonders how often he comes by to visit and volunteer. Maybe there is a chance they will be able to meet after all.

The faint beeping of the key code and jiggling of the door handle to his left draws his attention and he turns in time to see an older woman with ashy blonde hair and huge round glasses that take up half of her face walk in. Her scrub top is printed with different Winnie the Pooh characters. She smiles and approaches him, extending her hand. “Hi, you must be Kurt. I’m Jeannie; we spoke on the phone last week.”

“Oh! Yes,” Kurt shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we?” She gestures to a table and Kurt takes a seat opposite her. “So we just have to get some paperwork in order and then we can take a little tour around the unit so you can meet the kids.”

“Okay.”

“This is your first time volunteering, right?” She opens a Manila folder and begins rifling through a large stack of papers.

“Yes.”

“What drew you to it?”

Kurt steals a glance towards the bulletin board, lips curling up into a half-smile. “I heard about it through my school a few months back, but honestly? I spent a lot of time visiting my mom in this hospital when I was a kid and when me and my dad would get home he would always try to cheer me up. We put on a lot of concerts for my stuffed animals in our living room. And I mean… like a lot .”

Her eyes are soft as she listens, a piece of paper held loosely between both hands just inches off of the table, almost forgotten, and gives him an empathetic smile.

“I saw that video of the Disney sing-along online and I just really wanted to be a part of it, helping kids, especially with music, because it’s really helped me through some tough times.”

“Well,” She straightens up and slides the paper across the table towards him, “I think the kids will really love having you around. Do you play any instruments?”

“Never missed a piano lesson,” Kurt says, grinning. “But mostly, I love to sing.”

The paperwork consists of a lot of signatures. Kurt is not to discuss any of the patients or their health conditions with others in order to maintain privacy regulations, not to post anything to social media without permission, and just a lot of general information about the hospital’s protocols such as what to do in the event of emergency scenarios (of which there are many ). By the end of it, Kurt has a pretty sizable stack of papers to take home with him and a dull cramp in his wrist.

“I know it seems like a lot of information, but nothing you have to memorise. You’ll always be with other staff members who will guide you through every step of the way.”

Kurt releases a nervous laugh, “Okay, good. I can save my highlighters for school work then.”

***

Jeannie leads the way to the playroom which, she explains, is a safe space for all the children on the unit that remains open every day until 7 p.m. No medications or treatments are allowed to be administered to a child in the playroom, they must be brought out first. There are about ten kids inside, ranging from toddlers to older teens, all of whom have seemingly gravitated towards splitting into their own little cliques based on ages. As soon as they enter the room two of the younger kids, a boy and girl no older than three or four, look up from a mountain of blocks and start crying. Kurt casts an alarmed glance at Jeannie.

“It’s okay, you can keep playing.” Jeannie kneels down and stacks a loose block onto their small tower. “Everyone, this is Kurt, he’s going to be coming by to help out and spend some time with all of you.” She stands up and backs away from the two toddlers with the blocks to stand beside Kurt again.

“It’s the uniform,” she says quietly to him. “Some get scared when they see us come into a room cause it usually means it’s time for medicine or treatments.”

“Hi, Kurt!” A small girl with bronze skin, a round face, and long thick black hair comes over and takes his hand. “I’m Melanie! You wanna come draw with me?”

She does not wait for an answer before she starts tugging on his hand and walking back towards a small rectangular table covered with construction paper and crayons. She climbs into one of two plastic blue chairs which are far too tiny for Kurt to fit in, so he sits on the floor beside the table, crossing his legs. Melanie slides a piece of yellow construction paper towards him and pushes a pile of crayons into the middle for them to share.

“Did you draw all of these?” Kurt picks up a red crayon and starts sketching.

“Yes! My daddy brought my big brother to visit and we draw together,” she says, shading in what looks like a sunflower with a purple crayon.

“They’re very beautiful; I like that one a lot.” Kurt taps the one she is currently working on. “I’ve never seen a purple sunflower before.”

“I’m gonna invent them one day,” she says matter-of-factly. Kurt smiles and returns to his sketch of a new outfit design that has been floating around his mind for the past week.

“Woah!”

Kurt begins to lift his head up to locate where the voice has come from when he spots movement beside his left elbow. To say the boy is small would be an understatement. He is tiny . A pale, skinny little thing dressed in Batman pajamas that look two sizes too big on him. He has wide, bright blue eyes and is wearing a charcoal grey beanie. Clutched between his toothpick arms is a stuffed rabbit with drooping ears the size of its entire body.

“Hello,” Kurt says as the boy leans forward to peer at his drawing.

“You can draw,” the boy says, clutching his rabbit closer.

“Would you like to draw with us?”

“Can’t draw,” he says.

“Oh, I bet that’s not true,” Kurt says and holds out the crayon to him. “Everyone can draw.”

The boy looks at the crayon then up to Kurt and shakes his head shyly before raising the bunny up to his chin, hugging it tightly.

“What’s your name?” Kurt asks.

“Jason,” he says quietly.

“Well, would you like to watch me and Melanie draw?”

“I’m really good.” Melanie looks up at him. “You can sit next to me, I’ll show you.”

Kurt spends the next hour drawing with Melanie while Jason continues to peek curiously between them. The other kids begin to trickle out of the room, some led by nurses, some by visiting family members. Pretty soon, only the three of them are left until Jason’s mother comes in to collect him. Before he leaves, Kurt holds out a piece of paper to him.

“Something tells me you like Batman,” Kurt says as Jason’s eyes widen at the image of a child-sized Batman with bright blue eyes. “How about next time you can draw me?”

“Okay.” Jason grins, slipping the picture between his stuffed bunny and his chest to hold it there safely. “But you’re gonna look like a potato. I really can’t draw.”

It is the most Kurt has heard him speak all afternoon. Something about the way he talks contradicts the way he looks. Kurt wonders how old he actually is; the boy looks smaller than most five year olds he’s seen but definitely talks like an older child. Kurt makes a mental note to find out next time. “Deal. I can’t wait to see it.”

Jason’s mom gives Kurt a parting smile before she shepherds her son away. Soon after, Melanie’s nurse comes to collect her as well, leaving only Kurt and Jeannie in the empty playroom.

“That went well,” she says. “You’re a natural with them.”

Kurt beams back at her, a sense of pride swelling in his chest.

After his dad comes to pick him up, Kurt spends the entire car ride home filling him in on the events of the day, excluding Jason and Melanie’s names. He goes to bed that night with his mind already buzzing with activities for the next visit.

***

Kurt starts volunteering two days a week after school and over the course of the next month, he becomes very familiar with some of the regular kids on the unit. Jason, he discovers, is actually nine years old, has leukemia and is in his final round of chemotherapy by the first week in October. Melanie has sickle cell anemia and had been hospitalized for something called ‘sickle cell crisis’— she had gone home two weeks after they first met, but Kurt learns that she usually returns frequently for the same problem. There’s a teenage boy not much older than Kurt is, but taller and skinnier with jet black hair and sad eyes, named Julian who has cystic fibrosis— he usually keeps to himself, oftentimes choosing to sit in the back corner of the playroom and silently watch everyone else.

The rest have been a whirlwind of faces and names with a variety of issues such as pneumonia, appendicitis, broken bones and asthma attacks. There have also been quite a few cases of children who have come in with injuries as a result of abuse at home, more so than Kurt would have imagined actually occurred. He finds trying to interact and engage with those kids to be the most heartbreaking.

Some of the kids are not as keen to warm up to him as others, keeping to themselves or staying with their families while Kurt leads sing-alongs, painting lessons, hosts movie nights, and reads aloud during story time. He has developed a steady routine in the five weeks since he began volunteering. So on the Tuesday during the second week of October he waves hello to the security personnel by the front entrance like he usually does. He rides up the same elevator and is buzzed into the unit by Rosie, the first nurse he met with the auburn hair. And with his usual wide smile in place, he strolls into the playroom with a new four-pack of Disney themed puzzles under his arm.

But when he walks in, the kids are already sitting in a circle, staring up at a boy with loosely gelled curls coiffed into a fluffy side part, bright hazel eyes, and a sapphire acoustic guitar perched on his lap. Kurt is caught completely off guard as he realises, Oh god, it’s him! It’s the guy from the video!

He looks shorter in person than Kurt assumed. In both the photo on the bulletin board and the video his hair was ungelled and wild. Kurt vividly remembers his dark curls bouncing as he bopped his head along to the music while impersonating Timon and Pumba for the younger kids. He’s dressed in another carefully selected outfit though— bright red pants, a black polo and a white bow tie with black polka dots on it.

“Kurt!” A few of them yell excitedly.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Kurt I’ve been hearing so much about,” The boy with the guitar says, that same unwavering grin already in place. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Blaine.”

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lush-lavenders · 4 years ago

Text

✾Almost Lover✾

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: Y/N and JJ had a beautiful summer romance, but once the summer is over, so are they.

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: This is my first song fic. I cut out some lyrics, just so it fit better with the writing. It’s based off the song ‘Almost Lover’ by A Fine Frenzy, and I 100% recommend listening to it. It’s really good. Also, I have to admit, I like writing angst a little too much.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Little Fluff

!I don’t own this gif!

Your fingertips across my skin The palm trees swayin' in the wind Images

The sound of waves crashing against the shore was a sound you became familiar with as you had grown up around it. The smell of the saltwater was a fragrance you held dear as it seemed like your permanent perfume. The light wind that rustled everything, including your hair and the many trees surrounding you, was a nice cool down from the heat of the North Carolinian sun.

JJ made a game in his mind to catch every little hair that blew away from your face as you were hypnotized by all your senses.

You were none the wiser as to what was going on in the blond's mind. He noticed your lack of swatting his hands away, something you would normally do after you had done your hair, specifically for a date with him.

He stopped his game, now just watching you. You looked so peaceful, the sun shining and making your H/C hair glow.

He admired your beauty all the time. He just couldn’t ever get enough of you. He never would get enough of you.

You glanced over at him, blushing when you noticed he was staring. “What?”

He smiled cheekily, loving it when you blush. “You’re beautiful.” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and letting his fingertips trail over your skin.

You shivered at his touch, but snuggled into it.

We walked along a crowded street You took my hand and danced with me

JJ was practically racing down the street, dodging Pogues and Tourons left and right, dragging you right behind him.

You couldn't help the giggle that erupted from your throat at the blonde's eagerness. "JJ, if you aren't careful, we're gonna trample someone." She wasn't even sure if he had heard her, as the area they were in was loud at this time of day.

"You're so slow, Y/N!" JJ called out behind him, pulling you more.

A man sat on the sidewalk, crisscross, playing guitar, and singing. His guitar case was open and there were some coins and cash strewed around it.

Something about the tune he perfectly strummed and vocalized felt familiar to you.

You paused, almost jerking JJ back with you. "Hey, listen to him!" You were giddy, bouncing up and down a little.

"Babe," he started to whine a little, "come on we're already late."

You slipped your hand out of his hold and made your way in front of the musician. Digging into your pocket, you pulled out a couple of dollars and put them in his case.

JJ sighed in slight frustration as he pushed some people out of his way to see what you were doing. He couldn't help the smirk forming on his face as you started to sway back and forth.

You spotted him watching you and smiled, reaching out your hand to him. Without hesitation he grabbed it and pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist and swaying with you.

You two did that for the rest of the song before JJ pulled you back through the crowd of people. You wished you didn’t stop, but you had that memory to hold on to.

And when you left you kissed my lips You told me you'd never ever forget these Images No...

Your hands quivered as his lips left yours, the warmth leaving with him. You knew that would be the last time you felt it.

HE spoke as his lips were inches from yours. “I’m sorry, Y/N…” His voice was quiet and soft like he was talking to an upset child. Which you probably looked like.

You could only shake your head, not trusting any words to leave your mouth. You knew if you so much as opened it, the tears you tried so hard to hide would flow like a river.

He still had his hands resting on your hips, not yet wanting to let go. “We both knew this was coming.” He sighs, knowing you wouldn’t speak. “We’re from different sides of the island, and-”

You cut him off. “That shouldn’t matter.” You muttered, a bit angrily, not caring anymore about the tears that started to spill. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t give a fuck about what others thought.”

It was true you were from two completely different lifestyles. You were a Kook who grew up on Figure Eight, childhood best friends with none other than the Kook Princess, Sarah Cameron. You were given everything from birth. JJ was a Pogue that grew up on the Cut, hanging out only with his crowd. He had to work for everything he had.

When you two first got together, you made a stupid decision to split after the summer was over. That way you both could go to your normal lives without repercussions. You thought you’d just have a summer fling. Something different from what you’re used to.

You didn’t think you’d end up falling for the boy right before you.

Except a broken heart was a worse fate than having your parents disappointed in you.

JJ sighed, slowly letting his hands drop to his side. “Babe…”

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me.” You snapped, taking a step back.

He tried to take a step closer. “Please, I’m doing this for you cause I love you.”

“No, you’re not!” You practically yelled. Tears were streaming down and onto your lips. “If you really loved me you would stay by me. You wouldn’t leave me. Not like this.” Your voice quieted down, choking back sobs.

He wouldn’t, couldn’t fight with you. Everything he did this past summer was for you. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He shook his head and looked down. He couldn’t cry. Not in front of you. Not now.

You let out a quiet sob. “Just go…” You said, barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you. “I’ll never forget any of this, Y/N. I won’t forget us.”

Your lip quivered as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Leave, JJ!” You couldn’t even bear looking at him.

Goodbye my Almost Lover Goodbye my Hopeless Dream

You opened your eyes and only watched as he walked away. He was so close, yet so far.

You wanted desperately to call out for him. To run up to him and hug him. To say sorry. To beg for him to take you back. But you couldn’t. You made a stupid agreement, and it came time to pay up to it.

He didn’t look back at you as he got on his motorbike and rode off. He didn’t look back at you as he felt you standing at the gate of your house. He didn’t look back at you as he threw your heart on the ground and stomped on it until it was beaten beyond recognition.

The sound of his bike triggered your relationship to flash before your eyes. The months you spent walking the beach together, driving around the island, and waking up next to him.

It was as if it all was just fake.

I cannot go to the ocean

Sarah had forced you to go swimming with her the day before school starts. It was your last day of freedom, she called it. You lost your freedom when he left.

She didn’t have trouble taking off her cover and running into the water.

As soon as your feet hit the water, tears threatened to spill. The water that looked so much like his stunning eyes.

JJ always ran ahead of you into the water, diving in to wet his hair. Then, when he noticed you were far away, he would come back to you and pull you in. He’d force you under the water with him, even when you didn’t want to ruin your hair.

Without a word to Sarah, you turned and rushed out of the water. You heard her call out to you, but you didn’t turn around.

She didn’t know. She didn’t know that your heart was taken by JJ. She wouldn’t understand what you were going through.

I cannot drive the streets at night

You had just spent the weekend on the mainland. Your dad had some business there and your mom made you go. She figured it would be good for you to get out of the OBX for a little while.

It was probably close to 1 am. You were driving home so late so you could get home in time for school on Monday. Lucky you.

You rested your head against the cold window, letting your eyes close.

You and JJ always went on midnight drives when one of you couldn’t sleep. He usually was the one driving, and you’d always fall asleep next to him.

Fall asleep, like you were about to do now.

You jolted yourself up. Rubbing your eyes, you felt wetness on your hand. You ignored it and stared out the windshield, trying to push off any thoughts of JJ. In a quiet car, it was hard.

You didn’t want your dad to see you in such a state over a boy he never liked in the first place.

I cannot wake up in the morning Without you on my mind

The alarm echoed throughout the large room. It was a Saturday morning, but your parents insisted you keep a regular waking up schedule.

With your eyes closed, you grabbed your phone and turned the ringing off. You dropped your phone next to you and laid on your side.

Slowly opening your eyes, there was a split second where you saw him. He was on his back, eyes closed and breathing lightly. Then he was on his side, facing you, eyes open a crack. The blue of his eyes were more of a grey without any light streaming in.

“Morning…” He would say just loud enough for you to hear him. His voice, laced with sleep, was enough to allure you back to sleep.

You blinked, and he was gone. You blinked, and your pillow had little wet spots. You blinked, and you crumbled into a mess of sheets and blankets.

How did he expect you to act like nothing happened? How did he expect you to act like the love you two shared was just a dream?

He might have been fine with the idea, but you were breaking. And you knew you wouldn’t be able to be fixed so easily, if at all.

Should've known you'd bring me heartache Almost Lovers always do...

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nev3rfound · 5 years ago

Text

the show must go on : b.b

brief summary: based on the movie age of adeline, you’re unable to age and live your life in new york. until one day, you’re spotted by two of your oldest friends.

word count: 2.7k requested: nope. this is an idea I’ve had since april and finally put it into writing. i’m not sure if this will just be a oneshot or a series, but do let me know what you think! warnings: not any i’m aware of

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

* masterlistin’

* commissions

** permanent taglist **

With every single card laid out before you all you had to do was pick whichever one would be most suited. Your fingertips roam over a series of them, quickly discarding a selection due to the date of birth making you now too old.

You sigh quietly before picking one of them up, checking the birth date before slipping it into your purse, exchanging it for Hadley Wilson. “I guess Amelia Kingsley will have to do today.” You mutter under your breath as you take the rest of the ID cards and slip them back into the shoe box.

Amelia Kingsley, aged 26, born in Michigan.

Today was going to be a good day, you needed it to be.

Shuffling across your floor of the apartment, you lift the creaky floorboard up and place the box back inside, out of sight. Beside the shoe box remains your most precious memories from your original years alongside some emergency cash and supplies. Everything you kept hidden away were the only things you truly cared about, everything that remained on display in your apartment was simply for show. You could easily pack everything up into one large box and move to another place when the time came, not if.

You rise to your feet as you dust off your jacket and pull your hair out, allowing it to fall over your shoulders. Taking your keys and purse, you head toward your front door, just allowing yourself a single glance at your reflection.

Seeing yourself in the mirror wasn’t surprising. You never woke up looking at yourself with a shock. You had seen in films where the protagonist wakes up a mess, scared to see their state in the mirror. But for you, there was never anything different to be scared of. In all of your years, not a single detail or feature has changed.

There weren’t any signs of wrinkles, of greys appearing or age spots. Your skin was still youthful, your hair full and smile bright. You hadn’t aged a day over 25 in nearly a hundred years, and you were sick of it.

Closing your front door, you make your way down the stairs holding your uniform in your bag. Amelia had a part-time job, you knew she could just turn up and they’d accept her with open arms.

Exiting the building the doorman nods as always, never saying a single word, just a simple nod. “Have a good day, Henry.” You cheerfully reply as you take your handbag and whistle out for a cab and watch as one quickly pulls up. “Guess some things never do change.”

New York, the city you once grew up in has changed more than you could compare. The streets are covered in lights, illuminated by advertisements and sounds of languages you had yet to learn. It was amazing, beautiful, but forever haunting you of what you’ll never have.

Unlike New York, you’ll never get to change, to evolve and grow old. It was a freak accident you can’t explain, no one could.

In your long life, you’ve lived in nearly every state of America. You travelled abroad briefly but felt too unsafe to allow yourself to settle. Part of you knew you’d always end up back in New York, maybe not in Brooklyn where you were raised, but it was the closest to home you had been for a long time.

“Just here, thanks.” You tell the driver as you pass him the cash before climbing out of the cab and walking toward the small building.

Opening the door, you could already hear the sound of high heels clacking against the wooden floors and the claps of the rhythm being rehearsed. A small smile plays on your lips as you listen to the sound of music playing, the soft melodies you grew up hearing.

“Amy, hey!” You turn around, seeing Lydia running toward you already made up in her costume. She wraps her arms around you tightly, not giving you a second to adjust. “Where have you been, it’s been a week?” She questions, pushing her black curls out of her face.

You shrug your bag off of your shoulder, walking alongside her toward the dressing rooms. “I just got busy, had some family things to deal with.” You lie, but she’s never one to question.

“Everything alright? Your parents doing okay in Michigan?” She asks sincerely and you simply nod, trying to remember that you’re Amelia Kingsley, that your parents are in fact still alive.

Placing your bag down on your dressing table, you slip your jacket off as she takes the spot beside you, touching up her lipstick. “They’re doing alright, just worryin’ about me.” You say with a light laugh as you roll your eyes. “You know how parents can be.”

Lydia scoffs lightly, nodding in agreement. “Tell me ‘bout it.” She sighs as she slumps back into her chair as you begin to change into your attire. “Jonny’s Mom wants me to go over and cook for Thanksgiving. Like, she has it out for me I swear.” Her New York accent remains thick as she talks which makes you smile, realising there are still some oldens around.

“But isn’t Thanksgiving two months from now?” You ask as you slip the tights as you pull the short dress on.

“Exactly.” She says with a huff as she passes you the underskirt, watching as the excessive fabric fluffs out the short dress, accentuating the curves of your body. “But she knows I can’t cook, and she doesn’t like me bein’ with Jonny as it is.”

You continue to listen to Lydia’s rambles as you pull the tighs up over your legs, adjusting them underneath the dress as you slip the short black heels on, doing the buckle up.

“What’s tonight's routine?” You interrupt as you loosely curl your hair before finishing your makeup off, watching a series of girls walk in wearing the same outfit, smiling and waving to you as they do the same.

“Usual. Just gotta do the normal dance then into the crowd, sing the songs and that’s a night.” She rounds up and you nod, knowing this routine all too well that you could do it with your eyes closed.

A loud knock on the door causes everyone to go quiet. “You all decent, ladies?” A man calls out and unison of yes follows.

The door is pushed open and there stands Jonny, chewing his gum loudly as always. “You look lovely, ladies.” He looks around at everyone, his eyes lingering on Lydia. “Now, we gotta show to do.”

All of the girls file out as you pull the white gloves up over your forearms and adjust your soldier's hat.

“Good to see you, Amy.” Jonny winks to you and you politely smile, ignoring the feeling of your skin crawling as you walk toward the stage, standing behind the thick red curtain.

Your hand rests on Lydia’s shoulder as you listen to Jonny in front of the curtain talking to the crowd. “Okay now for tonight’s main event, who is ready to see Captain America’s girls?” He calls out and a series of cheers commence.

The mention of his name never gets dull with the crowd as they have all lived through it too. They watched the poor attempted shows that Captain America had to do and at the time, booed him and demanded the girls to return to the stage. But now, these retired veterans eat this up, they love the nostalgia. And you love the chance to be reminded of the life you lost.

Music begins to play as the curtain rises. Your smile remains bright as you try and look out into the crowd. Immediately you can see some of the regulars sitting at the front row, giving you all a nice wave and smile.

The dance begins as normal as you all flutter around the stage, lip-syncing some of the songs as you keep in time to the beat.

As the first song comes to an end and the next begins, you walk out into the crowd in a single file, all walking off in differing directions. During each show, you’re assigned an area and tonight you’re working the back right corner.

Wandering over, a spotlight follows you as you stand on top of the table, singing delicately to the men around you with a smile. You look around the room, feeling two pairs of eyes refusing to part with you as the spotlight on you fades away.

Turning to face the longing stares, the spotlight illuminates Lydia on their table. But no one is staring. You shrug the paranoia off and carry on with your set.

All of you file back toward the stage, and as you’re in line you hear a voice mutter. “Steve, it’s not Y/n.” You can feel the hairs rising on the back of your neck as you keep your eyes set dead ahead, refusing to glance and see who it is.

You finish the routine with a heavy breath as the curtain falls and the sound of cheers is something you can barely hear over your own heartbeat.

“Amy, you alright?” Lydia calls out as she watches you rush back to the dressing room, grabbing your things and throwing your coat on.

Standing in front of her with wide eyes you nod. “Yeah I just, I gotta go.” You mutter before walking past her, not even stopping to chat to the regulars like you normally would. “I’ll let you know when I’m next free.” You call out as you keep your head held low, your trainers hitting the ground hard as you pass by the stage.

Most nights, you could sit for hours and talk to them about the 20′s and 30′s. How they describe it as a world you would never recognise with the technology you all have these days. You would laugh with them, smiling and playing along.

“Hey,” A voice calls out from beside you, and you stop. “sorry, Miss.”

Turning you look up to see their faces and you try and focus. “Hi?” Your voice is barely audible as you stare at the faces of your former best friend. “Sorry, can I help you?” You mutter, feeling your body beginning to burn up under his gaze.

“Sorry, it’s just, you look identical to an old friend of mine.” Steve states with a smile playing on his lips, barely believing the sight before him.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you shrug your shoulders as you recollect yourself. “Oh, I get that a lot actually.” You try and laugh it off, but Steve is looking at every feature.

“It’s just uncanny, really. Her name was Y/n Yl/n.” Steve tells you and watches a flicker in your eyes.

You smile softly to him, tucking your hair behind your right ear. “Y/n?” The name plays on your lips as you watch him nod. “She was my grandmother, I get told that a lot.”

Steve’s smile grows across his face. “Is she, is she still with us?” He licks his lips, and you let out a small sigh as you force yourself to shake your head. “I, I’m sorry. She, she was an amazing woman.”

“She truly was. How, how did you know her?” You ask him as you look around, seeing a tall figure with dark brown hair hovering by the notice board.

“She was an old friend of mine, and of his.” He motions to the man by the notice board, and your breath hitches in your throat. “Sorry again for bothering you,” He pauses, realising he never got your name.

“Amy.” You tell him quietly, watching as the man begins to turn but you push open the front door. “It was nice meeting you.” You call out as you turn the corner, not wanting to be faced with the tall figure.

Steve remains still, watching you disappear out of sight as Bucky stands by his side. “So,” Bucky asks Steve, watching his smile falter. “was it her?” Bucky tries to hide the hope lacing his voice.

“No.” Steve quietly admits, not wanting to see the disappointment fall on Bucky’s face. “I’m sorry, Buck. Y/n’s dead.”

Bucky releases a heavy sigh before pushing the front door open. “Let’s go home.” He mumbles sadly, unaware of you walking just out of his view. “I guess it was just too good to be true.” Bucky states quietly to Steve as he stands with his hands in his pockets, walking in the opposite direction to you.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees as he glances back, seeing your long trench coat behind him as your curls bounce behind you. “I guess it was.”

“Evening, Henry.” You hold back your tears as he opens the door, forcing you a small smile as you head straight to the lift.

As the doors close on you, you feel the tears falling down your cheeks. His face is all you can picture, the young boy with the dark brown hair swept to one side, his cheeky attitude and his attempts at being suave. He never failed to make you laugh, or try to cheer you up.

Pushing open your front door, you slip the trench coat off, catching sight of the mascara staining underneath your eyes as you collapse down by the creaky floorboard.

You force it up, pushing it to one side as you reach down to the old biscuit tin. A thick layer of dust coats the top as you blow it off, coughing as you inhale more than intended.

Brushing your fingertips over the top, you lift the lid open hearing it clang on the ground beside you causing you to jump lightly as a small lamp brightens the spot above you.

As delicately as you can, you look through some of the photographs you kept. When the accident happened, you realised you were only going to be able to keep a selection of treasures. If you carried photo albums from the 30′s with you containing photographs of you with well-known faces, you knew suspicion would arise. As a result, you kept only the photos you didn’t want to forget, the people you’d never see again.

Your thumb brushes along the photograph of you and your family. It was taken when you were just a little girl sat between your two older siblings. Your Mother was so beautiful, and your Father was stern, but you knew he did it because he cared about your safety. The next is when you’re older, around the age of 17. You’re wearing one of your sisters dresses as she couldn’t afford a new one for you to wear at her wedding.

A series of photos pass by, and then you land on the one you were looking for. For a brief moment, you were worried it was lost in transit from Atlanta.

Leaning back, you rest against one of your cabinets as you feel tears forming in your eyes. Despite the changes, you know it’s still them.

The three of you are standing outside of the local dance hall, all smiling as they hold you close in their arms. Steve is tiny, the broad man you spoke to earlier isn’t the same one you remembered. His smile is still bright, but you remember having forced him to go with you so you wouldn’t feel left out in case Bucky wandered off.

And then there’s Bucky.

You sniff lightly at the sight of him, his height towering over you as his hand ghosts around your waist. He was always so delicate with you, never wishing you any harm. You can remember just after the photograph was taken that Steve had a coughing fit, resulting in the three of you going home early.

As you and Bucky helped Steve into his house, he insisted on walking you home.

Closing your eyes you can still picture it, hearing his laugh as he twirls you around in the dark streets of Brooklyn.

A small smile rises on your face as you flip the photograph over, sighing as you hold it close wishing you could go back.

‘Bucky, Steve and Y/n. 1927.’

permanent taglist :

@psychicforest 🌙 @lourightm 🌙 @mywinterwolf 🌙 @perellith-chronicles🌙 @supermoonchildbroski🌙 @xrosegoldwolfx🌙 @courtneychicken

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diamond-punk0963 · 5 years ago

Text

RWBY/Alice In Wonderland Crossover: Mad Hatter! Ironwood AU

~Aesthetic~

"Trust can be a crazy thing to hold. Sharing it with someone can be event crazier. The craziest thing with trust is when it’s broken. That’s what ignites the path into madness."

~Outfit~

(Not Pictured: A silver pocket watch necklace that has the atlas logo on the cover. Either worn around his neck or wrapped around his hand)

~Playlist~

(Note: I’m open to suggestions if anyone finds a song that fits him!)

~Headcanons~

(Special thanks for @anirondaddystan for helping me with these headcanons. It wouldn’t be the same without you!)

The BIGGEST Tea/Coffee addict you’ll ever meet!

He’s very elegant, cunning, and eccentric.

His favorite tea is earl grey. However, he does like to spice it up when he feels like it.

As for what he uses is for him to know and you to find out. ;)

Looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll.

But at the same time, he can and will kill you if you get on his bad side.

He’s also very skilled with combat due to . . . . reasons.

He does have a popular rhyme about himself that leaves people confused about him.

However, if you listen closely and know a bit more about him, you may uncover a secret or two. ;)

When you first meet him, expect him to be cold and lifeless around you.

Due to his past, he has a hard time trusting people and letting them in.

However, there are two ways he can earn your trust.

Either A) you preform a task that convinces him that you are worthy of his trust or B) he invites you to a small tea party that ends up with you waking up, tied up on a chair and asks a couple of questions that determines wether or not, he can trust you. There’s no inbetween.

He does have a rare/uncommon gene with his eyes that it changes shades based on his emotions.

Light shade when he’s sad, a darker shade or black when he’s angry, and a bright shade when he’s happy (or when he trusts you.)

He doesn’t admit it but he does have a sweet tooth.

His favorite type of candy is basically anything with chocolate.

Don’t be surprised if any chocolate that is left around the area 'disappears'.

“I see chocolate. I eat it. End of story."

His usual routine in his day to day life consists of five things.

Wake up, Eat, Survive, Sleep, Repeat.

He would often hang around the village for more supplies for the week or possibly spy on you.

If not, he would be at his home that’s deep within the woods.

The only way you would find his home is either a) you wandered far enough into the forest that you just so happen to find a house in the middle of nowhere or b) he gives you directions to his place because of the level of trust he has in you.

Low key, James can sing and dance. He keeps the fact unknown because he doesn’t want to draw attention towards himself. That and he hates it when people bug him about it.

He doesn’t do it often anyways. It’s due to . . . . reasons he doesn’t want to talk about. It’s rare to find him doing either one. More so if it’s both!

If you find him doing either or both (and he trusts you), he’ll pretend that he doesn’t see you and keeps on at it. If he doesn’t, I highly reccomend you make a run for it.

The only time he ever sings is when he’s alone or just bored. As for dance, that would be at the rarest moment you find for him. (Once in a blue moon kind of rare.)

If I had to describe him in musical lyrics, "Sorry, not sorry about what I said. I’m just having some fun. Don’t worry, Don’t worry. Don’t lose your head! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone." That or, "Don’t be bitter. Cuz I’m fitter.”

(Kudos if anyone gets the reference)

Back into the whole 'Trust' scenario with James; The more he trusts you, the more crazier he becomes around you. It’s his way of being more comfortable.

Along with that, he gets attached to people that are deep within his trust and protective as well.

Like if he sees you hurt, you can bet anything that he would be there for you.

And if he finds out that someone hurt you (and you allow him), he’ll make sure that it will never happen again.

After that, cuddles and sweets for the day/night!

Aside from that, James is really into astronomy.

Every night that he’s alone and can’t sleep, he would go to the roof and look up at the stars.

He would count every star that he sees and comet that comes across the sky.

He also has a stargazing journal to keep track of his sightings.

He swears that he saw a shooting star, one night and will not forget it.

Onto the next headcanon (and probably the most obvious one), he does throw some tea parties. However, he doesn’t have anyone to spend tea time with due to his trust issues and him being anti social.

So most of the time, it’s just him. Alone at a table, outside of his home. He doesn’t mind the silence but it can get boring sometimes.

If he does have the urge to find someone to spend some time and tea with (or he’s just bored out of his mind), he would invite someone he could trust. The last time he invited someone he knew and didn’t trust . . . . He rather not talk about it. >_<

He may not look like but he takes tea time very seriously. Like he’s either starting tea time early or right on time, EXACTLY!

The same goes for his guest(s) If he ever invites any. He expects them to either come on time or early. Otherwise, he’ll just get annoyed and that’ll put him off his tea.

And trust me, he doesn’t like being off his tea and annoyed. However if you want to cure that, give him a riddle. He’ll be interested and occupied, if it’s good enough for his interest to be peeked.

Speaking of riddles, he does love to confuse people with his words. Their reactions brings amusement for him and he loves it when people can’t find sense in his words.

If someone were to figure out his words of nonsense, he’ll reward them with a little secret. ;)

Speaking of secrets, James knows a lot of the secrets and half-truths of his world. He knows who’s hiding what and why. How does he know? Why, the cards told him so.

He’s into tarot cards, playing deck, and zodiac signs. The reason why he does is because he likes to discover things that people would say behind closed doors. It gives him a sense of power, just by knowing alone.

Not only that, his cards can even give a glimpse of what has been and what’s to come for the people around him. It gives him a better description of who the people around him REALLY ARE than what they let on to be. Not only that, he knows bits and pieces of what will happen to them. Wether that is good or bad, he’ll let you know if he wants to.

Creating a mysterious side, he has secrets of his own. No one knows who james once was or how he came to be. He just came into town as the man he is now, one day. But if you listen closely and follow the right path, you may find a hint or two of him. Just don’t let him catch you. If he does, it was nice knowing you.

He is as mysterious as he is a trickster. He loves to trick people as much as he can confuse him. It’s one of his favorite past times besides reading and just wandering around in the forest alone.

There was this one time that he put a little something extra into a villager’s drink and since then, he’s been avoiding the village so that way he wouldn’t get attacked.

Adding more into it, he does have a set of potions that he uses for a number of reasons. One of them is pranking people.

As for what those potions can do, they make you act like stuff and basically make you go crazy for a little bit.

He uses the potions for three reasons. The first being for pranks. The second is to cheer up/confort the people that he trusts, and the third reason is a bit angsty.

There are times that he gets stressed out to a point where he just can’t take it. He takes one of the potions so that way he doesn’t deal the stress that badly. So if you find James crying like a baby with frosting all over his face, don’t be too surprised. Also, help the poor guy out.

If/when you do find him in that state (and he trusts you), give him some comfort with a hug and give him a cookie. He’ll be fine from there. Or start to be, at least.

The guy does have a hard time dealing with stress due to personal reasons. Not only that, he’s an anti-social because of personal reasons he doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t like to be around big crowds as well due to personal reasons.

Along with that, that’s why he lives in the forest alone. He doesn’t like to be around people due to . . . . . reasons.

The only time he ever talks to people is when he’s interested in them, seeing that they could be trusted, or he’s off to buy some things for the week.

Speaking of people that interest him, he does have a secret interest/fondness in the outsiders that drop from the world above him. More than what he lets on, tbh.

He can also tell whether or not you’re an outsider or an 'Alice' if you want to speak it in better terms. It’s all on the body movement, eye movement, and the clothing that they wear. He has a sharp eye for details.

It’s rare for an Alice to drop in but when one does fall from above, expect James to have an interest in you.

The reasoning behind his interest in alices or outsiders is because they’re not from his world. They’re different. Just like him.

When he finds an 'Alice', he usually invites them for tea and asks all sorts of questions about them. Like, who they are, where they live, what their life is like, likes, dislikes, hopes, fears, and anything else that’s an interesting fact about them.

Aside from that, James does have a liking for scented candles. He usually lights a couple at night for two reasons. One, it helps sets the mood for nighttime tea. And two, he uses the scent as a way to calm him down.

In case anyone was wondering, his favorite scented candle is blueberry. Also, if you come into his place and smell blueberries, that is why.

His perfect night-time event is having tea, outside in the stars. Especially if it’s on a summer’s night.

He would light up the table with scented candles and have some tea close to him. That plus a couple slices of cake or possibly some cupcakes nearby. He would also decorate the table with some blue and black rose petals for the aesthetic.

From there, he would just drink tea and gaze into the stars at night. That would be the best time for him to truly relax and finally feel free.

After some time, he falls asleep at the table and if he moves unconsciously, he might get some sweets on him. Like seriously, he woke up, using cake as a pillow and has no idea how he fell asleep in the first place.

Ironwood’s favorite season in wonderland is winter. He has a varity of reasons why but the two main reasons why is because the atomsphere and aesthetic of the enviroment.

Taking walks during the winter season are also a favorite thing he loves to do during the winter season. That also connects with his fondness of the winter atomsphere.

Along with that, he can not confirm or deny the fact that he may or may not like to play in the snow. He will not say anything on that matter or at the least, not publically.

That’s also the reason why he doesn’t have many tea parties during the winter season. He would rather spend the time during the winter season with his casual walks which helps him calm down in certain scenairos.

With that, he also likes the cold and crisp air that the winter weather has. Not only that, he likes it when the hot tea that he makes warms him up from the cold weather.

Back to the fact that he has a fondness for ‘outsiders’, James can tell wether a that person came into wonderland from a dream state or not. If they’re troubled from a nightmare or not, he would take them under his wing with a cup of tea for a bit.

James would give them an item that they would find when they wake up as a sign to say like, “Hey, that wasn’t a dream. Don’t worry about the problems of the past. Just know that you’re not alone. In the realm of dreams, I’ll be here for you.”

Secretly, he does take care of people in the dark. He has a huge sense of sympathy to the people that have been ‘abused by the world’.

He does this as small things such as leaving coins, food, clothing, and important items for them to use. He knows the world is a messed up and broken place. He’ll do what he can to help the lost people in the world.

This also applies for any outsiders that he finds in wonderland as well. This is mainly due to his past experiences that he doesn’t talk about. As for why, he won’t say.

He has seen the harshness in his world and from that, he would make sure that no one has to suffer anymore than what he went through.

If he were to find out that one’s suffering came from a person, he would have a ‘talk’ to that person and after that, comfort the people that were hurt by them.

He knows the light and dark of the world and he would do anything to make sure that the light will never get hurt and fall into the dark.

He may be crazy but hurt the people he trusts and you’ll regret it. He doesn’t take dark and evil people, lightly.

He does have a secret hero side to himself that only few see. When they do, it’s really a sight to behold. His weapon is two pistol guns; blue that’s laced with silver.

He always has them hidden under his jacket in case he needs then, which is pretty rare. That’s also why he doesn’t let anyone touch him. Doesn’t want to accidently shoot his foot. He had that almost happen once. He doesn’t want that to happen again.

Lastly, he’s also skilled in hand to hand combat. To the few that have seen James fight, they wonder how he became so skilled. He usually responds by saying something about the past that leaves people curious about him.

~Things James Said At Some Point~

"Why am I surrounded by idiots?”

"What day is it again?"

"Believe me when I say, you don’t want to know what goes on in my mind."

"Sh*t! It’s going to be tea time."

"Yes, I care about tea time. What’s your concern?"

"Why is my life like this?"

" . . . Do trees have emotions?"

"You must take a seat. Having tea alone can be quite a bore, sometimes.”

"The pain and misery of betrayal can leave more scars on you than you believe it can leave."

"Don’t flatter yourself, child. You’re not impressing anyone."

"Sometimes, giving trust to someone can be the bravest task anyone can do."

"I wonder if I could reach out to the stars. It would make a very good night light."

"What you see before you is just fantasy. Reality can be . . Harsher to survive and far more brutal to grow up in."

"Craziness is only bad if you think of it to be."

"As you can tell, I’m not exactly . . . . Normal, so to speak."

"Look. I know you must be scared at the moment but I can assure you, it’s for the best if you listen to me."

"What if I told you that I could tell you what happens next?"

"Do you want to hear a secret?"

"I’ll share a secret with you if you have the right price."

"If you’re looking for people that are normal, I’m afraid that you won’t find much around here."

"Everyone is crazy. Some are just better at hiding it while it becomes apart of others, one way or another."

"In a world filled with nonsense, why would you want make sense of who you are?"

"I don’t know who or what you are but you do interest me. Care for a cup of tea?"

"Child, don’t be afraid. I’ll be your light in the darkness of my world."

"Now, why would you want that?"

"The world can be a brutal place. The people that live here? They can be worse.”

“It’s your luck that my licence to cause havoc just expired.”

“Then again, when did I ever let anything stop me from stopping the filthy people like you from hurting the innocents and purity of this world?”

“The past can teach you as much it can leave scars. It all depends on how you move on from it.”

“There’s many ways to say that you’re different. People just tend to say it negatively.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with not being like everyone else.”

“My lady, can’t you see that you’re perfect? Just the way that you are. People just don’t see prefection when they see it, sometimes.”

“You have a spark that can ignite change in this world. Don’t let anyone blow it out.”

#rwby #ironwood #james ironwood #aesthetic #ironwood headcanons #james ironwood headcanons #rwby au #alice in wonderland #mad hatter #mad hatter headcanons #coping mechanism from volume 7 #mad hatter au

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

Text

The Bad Guy (2)

Bucky x fem!Reader

The Fallen Soldier

Theme: It’s a good day in New York City for Bucky Barnes, who seems to feel right at home till his morning is disrupted by a bad guy. Maybe New York isn’t the same place after all. Now he has teamed up with the Bad Guy to fight the good fight. But this Bad Guy is bringing things on his surface he never knew he had

Chapter warnings: swearing. so much swearing. dumb assholes.

A/N: @writing-prompt-s once gave a prompt last year that stuck with me…I don’t remember the exact wordings but it had something to do with the reader/writer being the villain having a crush on the hero, always finding excuses (or crimes) to meet them. One day they are getting their ass beat and you decide to jump in and save the day. This one is same but with a liiiiiiiitle twist

Word Count: I get one good day and look at me taking out a chapter after another. What is the reason behind this good mood? Spending time with fam? Posting ITA? Them sexy sexy reactions? Good sleep? Meds? Maybe all of them!!

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

The mansion up the hill overlooking those city lights was packed with people in their expensive swimwear right and left. Butts were swinging to loud beats, crystal glasses filled with alcohol and unwanted drugs clinked around the six thousand square feet of area. Skinny babes and naked dudes smoked and snorted by the pool while some made out in the pool, around the tennis court upstairs in the balcony; basically any place they could find. Guards stood by the openings in the front and back- well, definitely away from the booze-redden crowd running horny for those black-clad abs and standing there in silence and sharp observation- making sure no intruders or unwanted objects entered the place.

People coming in and wobbling out threw greetings at a slick-looking man sitting on the rooftop making some colourful drinks with the drugs in a sophisticated palette kept on a clear glass coffee table right next to where the multiple not!y/h/c girls- five to be specific- sat surrounding him. None of these ladies looked above twenty-five. But everyone looked like they were all up over that golden-haired broad jaw guy- who could have a name like Chad or Hunter- just for the pills.

“Looky here chicks,” his deep voice with a crustiness to it announced with the cocktail glasses raised for his company to take, “this is how you get to feel a new high. One of these and you will have the night of your life. Uh...scratch that, the second-best night of your life because later on, I’m going to fuck each one of you raw.”

The women hooted while forcing to keep those smiles when he looked away, clearly uncomfortable with that man. One of them was trying her best not to sneeze from all that heavy cologne he was wearing.

“How long do we have to do this Katie? I better be paid well for this,” the not!y/h/c sitting at the other end whispered to her girlfriend.

“I don’t know Samantha,” Katie muttered through her teeth that were all smiles for the man, “just keep going till he tires himself out.”

“Ugh, I have to submit my thesis tomorrow. I hate this guy! Fucking him was not a part of our deal. I wanna go home before I kill this man!” she grunted to her teeth before doing a one-eighty on her expression when he raised his glass at her and winked with his tongue out and wiggling. Samantha wanted to cry but she kept telling herself she was doing it for her tuition fee.

Downstairs, in the driveway, a woman dressed in a golden shimmy dress under a chinchilla fur overcoat and Impera Louboutin walked towards the entrance. Her red acrylic nails played with her hair while the other handheld an LV bag. Those cat-like movements stopped only when the bodyguards stopped her at the door. “Identification,” the grey-eyed Caucasian questioned.

This not!y/h/c wore red-rimmed groupie shades tinted black even in the night. Her lips red, and so were those huge danglers that clinked whenever her head moved or even tilted. She peeked over her shades at the boys and their toys stopping her from going in. The boys saw golden lenses checking them out and waited patiently for her to say something.

Sighing, she raised her bag and gestured the men to look into it.

The boys looked at the bag and then each other. “What’s in it?”

She dropped her head back and groaned lightly. “My identification,” she answered, almost singing it like a stereotypical white teen tired of the drama surrounding her.

The boys opened the zip and raised their brows at the stuff they saw inside. Leather whip, handcuffs, feather, candles, cable ties, ropes, anal beads and strap ons.

Trying to keep a straight face, they zipped the bag back up and handed it back to her before opening the door. “He’s on the rooftop.”

The woman smirked with those wet red lips at them. While walking in with those swishing hips, she grazed that bulge in the pants of the one standing to her right, making him flinch before going back to his position- but not without a smile on that seemingly uncrackable face.

The woman’s smile disappeared the moment she entered the room, her lips turning into the hues of disgust till she found a glass tumbler filled with scotch and dunked her hand in it till she was sure she had got everything off. Wiping it clean with a napkin, she moved through the crowd of stoned youngsters roaming about half-naked, dancing to Sasha Sloan’s ‘At Least I Look Cool’. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from next to two girls making out in the kitchen, she walked out towards the poolside, howling like a wolf to blend in. Within no time, everyone else there howled like her, getting more into the spirit.

“Haha..oh you all are such fucked up dolts,” she muttered under her breath, dancing her way to the stairs leading to the rooftop.

The wind was adding to the pep in her steps, her skin loving the cold waves over all that makeup. There were two guards standing as security at two ends, looking down at the party. Rest of the crowd was those college girls dressed as elite strippers trying to hog the man’s attention as much as they. All except Katie.

“Ooh, what do we have here,” the man whistled at the woman entering the scene with the sexy saunter.

“Hi Hunter,” she sang in a low, almost sweet poison laden voice, keeping the bag down on the coffee table, “I’m your birthday present. From your best bud.”

The fur coat was dropped down to reveal the gold sequin dress held tight around her with only two thin straps going around her shoulder. All eyes went to the smooth hairless baby-like skin shining under those dim lights around them. Tattoos covered the arms and the back- intricate works inked in black, some phrases etched in Kanji on one arm while some not so popular gangster signs on the other. The back seemed to carry the face of some strange creatures along with Kanji scripting the borders.

The shades were thrown away to reveal her face to Hunter, who was already feeling the tightness in his pants. “So, Hunter-” she opened the bag to take out the rope, making that bad boy’s pupil dilate in excitement- “what’s it gonna be. Full public display or a private show?”

“Everybody out!” He was already shouting, flailing hands at security to walk away. “What the fuck you lookin’ at,” he yelled at the girls, making them jump and scrammed.

“Oh thank God,” Katie said under her breath.

“You’re welcome,” the woman threw in her direction, making Katie feel her lungs tighten at the suggestive wink she got from her before she ran down the stairs.

Hunter jumped up and down the couch in anticipation, grunting at the woman. “Come on, you crazy bitch. Come to daddy.”

The women smirked at Hunter, walking across the table to close the distance between the two of them, opening the cork to the whiskey with her teeth and spitting it away somewhere in the dark. “Open your mouth,” she ordered.

A slap echoed through the air when he didn’t obey. His grunts of pleasure followed next and before you know it, he was looking up at her like a needy puppy. The whiskey went down his tongue, burning his tongue and throat till he had to shut his mouth and spill it out.

“Open up!”

And he did. Again. Once she was satisfied, she threw the bottle away. Some sort of ruckus could be heard downstairs but Hunter didn’t care. His guys could handle it.

The rope came next. Wrapped around his neck and gradually tied securely with a knot. The excitement in Hunter’s pants was already showing. The more she tightened the rope, the more he shivered with pleasure.

“You have been very naughty, Hunter. Very, very naughty.”

Hunter nodded in submission. “Yes. Oh God, yes. I have been so naughty. Punish me, you cunt. Slap the bad outta me,” he growled.

She yanked the rope towards herself, nearly making him fall on the concrete floor. “Follow me on your fours, you bad dog.”

And he did. His hands and knees were scraped by the rugged tiles underneath but he did not care. Soon both of them were at the edge, the glass railing looking down at the lit-up pool.

“Get on the other side of the glass,” she commanded.

“What?”

Even with those golden lenses that were clearly fake, she looked menacing. Without uttering another word- to not get on her bad side because she had his balls in her hands- Hunter pulled up his leg to move on the other side, right on the edge.

“Good boy,” she purred and lifted a corner of her lip. Wrapping the rope around her arm, she got out of her Louboutins, feeling a lot more relaxed than before. “Now,” she sighed while cracking the knots in her neck, “let’s get started.”

Hunter never saw her foot coming to kick him right in his gut, pushing him back, nearly making him miss his footing, his instincts grabbing at the rope within seconds while a high pitched scream left his lungs that got mistaken for another howl wave downstairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yelled at her. Unfortunately for him, no one downstairs could listen to his cries over the loud music reverberating throughout the house. The security was nowhere to be seen downstairs. Just a bunch of drunk bastards enjoying the booze and drugs.

“Where’s your boss?” she asked with a dead expression. No emotions reached her eyes as she held Hunter’s life in her hand her one foot resting on the glass while she watched the man cry tears of desperation.

“Where. Is. Your. Boss?”

“I ain’t telling you shi-”

Her fingers loosened the hold on the rope, making him scream and cry huge tears. “HE’S COMING TO TOWN THIS THURSDAY. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T LET ME FALL. PLEASE I’LL GIVE YOU MONEY. I’LL GIVE YOU DRUGS. DON’T LET ME FALL OH MY GOD!!!”

“How many girls did you sell in your life, Hunter?”

He shook his head, hanging onto the roop around his neck with his dear life. “No, please no,” he whimpered repeatedly to the point all you could hear were squeals. After some time they were gone too.

“How many?”

“I...I *hic* I didn’t c-count af-after three hundred. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

“Hmm,” she twitched her jaw while wrapping the rope around her arm again, reducing the distancing between them.

Hunter seemed to find his breaths back, his face swollen with all the crying and yelling. “Was your boss gonna buy the painting that was supposed to be stolen from the gallery?”

Hunter nodded. Those damn tears still didn’t stop. But now the tears were not the only thing leaking from his body.

“Do you know what I hate more than my periods?”

He didn’t ask. He was just trying not to puke his guts out.

“I hate the scums who get rich off other’s bodies. Do you know who that includes? Hmm? You do? You.”

The punch landed on his throat and the rope was dropped. Like a theatrical representation of Adagio for Violin and Orchestra in E major by Mozart, Hunter kept falling down, his hands still flailing in the air to catch hold of something, anything while she looked at the view till she was sure he was down in the pool, splashing the water everywhere. People hurled cheers and salutes while that man tried to catch hold of his senses for his life. She turned away, picked up her shoes, her fur, and her bag, and walked towards the open fireplace to dump the latter into the fire pit. The fire ate it up like a beast hungry for more. Walking away, she jumped over the railing to land on the edge of the estate, strutting straight into the forest barefoot, not stopping till a familiar SUV was visible at the road down the hill amongst multiple high-end cars parked in front of the mansion. The lights turned on the moment she came into view. The door was unlocked for her to climb in and sit in the front on the passenger side.

A security personnel ran by the car. “Hunter’s been attacked! Some bitch threw him off the roof. Code blue! Code blue! Everybody on the grounds now!” his walkie talkie crackled as he ran towards the mansion.

“This is NOT how we’re supposed to work!”

The street lights revealed the new handsome face and those black luscious hair on the driver’s side. Those blue eyes were clearly not impressed by your work, those hands already working around the wheel to make the engine come to life and get the hell out of here.

James Buchanan Barnes rode the car out like nobody’s business in the darkness of the night with one incredible ‘bitch who killed a man from the mafia’.

“Yeah, I brought my stealth suit for nothing,” Scott called out from the back.

The smile on those red lips broadened. With a yank of the hands, the luscious curls came off- revealing them to be a wig all this time- exposing the one who carried out the information extraction.

It was you. You were the ‘bitch’.

The lenses came off too. So did the acrylics.

“I’m just getting started, my darlings,” you stated.

“You should not have gone in alone. And what was this, a disguise?” He asked, pointed at everything that was not you.

“This, my guy-” you peeled off the false nose and cheek paddings- “was my way of cheating face recognition. You should try it sometimes too, Sergeant Barnes. You could’ve really used it when you killed those important faces in New York.”

Bucky was left speechless at the reveal. “Oh sweetheart, I do my homework. Just ‘cause I’m not on the other side with those so-called heroes I won’t do my research?”

“You must’ve been quite the college student,” Scott quipped.

“Top ten of my class,” you acknowledged, doing a hi-five with him without looking.

“I have to say, Barnes, I am disappointed that I didn’t get to see the Winter Soldier. Maybe on our next mission?”

Bucky could see from the corner of his eyes your tongue licking your lips in anticipation while checking him out without any filter. He could feel his hands tighten on the steering wheel. That gaze did something to him. Every. Single. Time.

“The Winter Soldier’s dead,” he commented, “along with all the evil he did,”

“Hmm,” you pouted, looking ahead at the road, “too bad. Would’ve have loved to take him on a ride. Summer in the streets-” you clicked your tongue- “winter in the sheets.”

“...I’m gonna put my earphones on,” Scott muttered and slid into his seat, away from whatever was going on between the two of you.

Bucky adjusted himself where he sat. “Wh-ahem- what are those tattoos on your...uhh skin?”

“Oh, these?” you were easily distracted, “these are just temporary inks. This one is my favourite opening from the anime Naruto. This is the name of the guy I had a crush on from the same anime. On my back are names of all the fav characters from One Piece with what I think is their Patronus.”

Silence.

She is a nerd. Bucky’s inner voice whacked him in the head. Speak for yourself, number one fan of Captain America.

“Now back to you,” you continued, “Mr back from the dead and evil.”

Come, on Buck! You are a ladies man! You should be all up in her business by now. What is wrong with you?!

“It’s okay,” your voice broke his anxious thoughts, “we won’t do anything against your will. I’m all for consent.”

You rested your cheek on the headrest while continuing to stare at him. “There is nothing sexier than having permission to do all the things you want me to do,” you declared softly.

And just like the teasing notes of the violin, the former winter soldier felt himself falling for the villain once again.

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hyunsracha · 5 years ago

Text

roman holiday — lee felix

word count: 2k

summary: we’ll be lacing the same shoes that we’ve worn through to the bottom of the line.

do you remember the taste of my lips

that night i stole a bit of my mother's perfume?

‘cause i remember when my father put his fist

through the wall that separated the dining room.

you sat on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest as you rocked back and forth. you were wearing your mother’s old prom dress, except you diy-ed it to make it special for you. this would be your first (and probably last) high school dance, and you wanted it to be special. you were wearing your mother’s perfume too. it smelled too mature for your 17 year old self, but it was all you had. you had music playing loudly in your room in an attempt to mask the screams from downstairs. your parents were going at it...again. this was the daily routine at this point, but you wanted this night to be special.

you stopped your rocking when you realized.

fuck.

felix would be here any minute now. he could probably hear the shouts from down the street. you grabbed your phone, pulling up your texts with felix to send him a message.

“don’t come to my house. i’ll meet you on the end of the street.”

you didn’t bother waiting for a reply; felix was a horrible texter. you grabbed your shoes and slipped your phone into a small purse.

you didn’t want to get in the middle of your parent’s argument, so the window was the only option. not like it was a big deal; you snuck out that window a million times before. there was a tree conveniently placed outside, and the branches were sturdy enough to hold your body for the few seconds you needed to brace yourself for the jump. once on the ground, you slipped on your heels and made your way down the street.

your relationship with lee felix was...complicated. he was your best friend - and your only friend - but he wasn’t just your friend. you didn’t know what to call it, and you were too nervous to ask. you knew that friends didn’t sneak their friends into their room just to make out. but boyfriends didn’t cancel plans just to go on a date with someone else.

homecoming was a weird grey area. he asked you to go with him, but did your best friend felix ask? or did your boyfriend felix ask?

felix sat in his father’s car on the end of your street, nervously checking himself out in the mirror. to be honest, he didn’t know if this was a date or not. did you even like him like that? did he even like you like that? he didn’t know. he did know that he liked kissing you. and you were his best friend. so...maybe he did like you? but he also saw you drink a milkshake with two straws, so maybe he didn’t.

while he was thinking himself into a headache, he failed to notice you standing in front of his car until you smacked your hand on the hood. his eyes snapped toward the sound, widening at the sight of you, lit up by his headlights.

you were...stunning.

oh no.

his heart was in trouble.

and i remember the fear in your eyes

the very first time we snuck into the city pool

late december with my heart in my chest and the clouds of my breath

didn't know where we were running to

but don't look back.

felix was used to sneaking you in places, but he wasn’t used to sneaking in places himself. so when you suggested breaking into the city pool, he was terrified. but you were giving him puppy dog eyes, and felix would probably take any chance to see you in your underwear.

“fucking perv.” you had laughed when he explained this to you on the walk over. he laughed too, taking your hand in his and swinging your arms. you looked just like any other couple out on a late night date. except you weren’t a couple. it had been two months since homecoming. two months since you spent the night at felix’s house, kissing and talking about the universe until the sun came up. he took you home in the morning, grabbing your wrist when you tried to get out of the car.

“uh,” he had stuttered, refusing to look you in the eye, “you’re pretty cool.”

“...you’re pretty cool too, felix.” you smiled, peeling his fingers off your wrist before opening the car door. you had turned and waved at felix’s car from your front door before going inside, leaving a fluttery feeling in his chest for the whole drive home.

“it’s probably locked. how are we gonna get in?” felix let go of your hand, placing his hands on his hips as he stared up at the tall building that held your city’s public pool. you snickered, walking up to the front door and opening it.

“no one locks their doors around here, dummy.”

you and felix lived in a small town, where everybody knew everybody. if you were caught sneaking into felix’s house, you would be recognized immediately and they would tell your parents. so you learned to be very cautious.

you wasted no time running into the pool area, peeling off your clothes and jumping in the water. it was cold, due to the fact that it was almost january, but it felt nice. felix stood at the edge, watching the smile grow on your face as you pushed your wet hair back.

“come on, loser! don’t be a coward!” you yelled, smirking up at him. you knew that he saw the word ‘coward’ as a challenge, and you were right. the boy scoffed, taking off his shirt and jeans and jumping in.

he screamed as he came back to the surface, “it’s so FUCKING COLD oh my GOD!”

you couldn’t stop laughing. even after his body got used to the water. even when he was staring at you, his eyes softening as his heart swelled. he swam towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. you yelped, pushing away from him because you thought he was going to dunk you. but he was stronger than you, and he pulled you closer, repeating your name to try to get you to stop laughing and pushing him away. when you finally calmed down, you rested your arms on his shoulders.

“you’re pretty cool, y/n.”

“you’re pretty cool too, felix.” you smiled, the light underwater casting a blue glow onto your face.

felix felt his heart leap up into his throat. you were so beautiful.

“i want you, y/n.”

“wh- huh?”

“i want you. i wanna...be with you. i want you to be mine.” his words were spoken with a seriousness that you weren’t used to with felix. he always had a smile on his face, so seeing him look so serious sent a shiver down your spine. your smile only widened, and you leaned forward to kiss him.

and you were his.

and he was yours.

could you imagine the taste of your lips

if we never tried to kiss on the drive to queens?

'cause i imagine the weight of your ribs

if you lied between my hips in the backseat.

you and felix skipped town the day after graduation. a cross country trip to new york is what you two wanted, so it’s what you two were going to get. felix stole his dad’s car, claiming that, “that dick never drove it anyway, so he won’t notice.”

no jobs, no plans, and hardly any money. but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

nights were the scary part, though. felix would park the car at a random rest stop, and you two would sleep in the big backseat/trunk area, as you couldn’t afford motels. you would lay in felix’s arms, unable to sleep, and just think.

oh god, what are you going to do?

you had hardly any money, how the hell were you two gonna afford to live in new york of all places? where would you work? what could you even Do?

you brought up these concerns over breakfast the next morning, sharing a bag of chips and a bott;e of gatorade. felix just chuckled, reaching across the bench you two were sitting at and grabbing your hand.

“we’ll figure it out. there’s nothing we can’t do together, yeah?” his eyes were so hopeful, you couldn’t help but nod and stutter out a soft reply. he kissed you then, filling you with confidence and optimism.

and i imagine the tears in your eyes

the very first night i'll sleep without you.

and when it happens i'll be miles away

and a few months late

didn't know where i was running to

but i won't look back.

hope didn’t last very long.

4 months, to be exact.

you hate new york. you hate your job at a shitty little hole-in-the-wall cafe where your boss doesn’t even remember your name. you hate your crummy little apartment with the cracks in the walls and no heat.

but you don’t hate felix. you could never hate felix.

you hate the person he’s become.

he’s cold, and at first you thought it was just from stress, but he’s cold even after sleeping for 12 hours and being awoken by breakfast in bed from the only person he’s ever loved. he’s cold on holidays, and yeah he doesn’t like the 4th of july very much but why can’t he just light a sparkler with you and obnoxiously scream the lyrics to party in the usa like he’s done every year before?

he has his moments though, like when he finds you crying in the living room over some tv show he’s never heard of. and he’ll pull you into his grip, rocking you gently and softly singing in your ear. like he used to.

but it’s not enough. fleeting moments every few weeks isn’t enough to make you stay.

you get home that night, well aware that you have a few hours before felix comes back. you don’t have much to pack, it only takes a few minutes. you think you’re crying, but you’re not really sure. you don’t want to look in the mirror to check, because the edges of your bathroom mirror are covered in polaroids of you and your angel from high school. and maybe seeing the felix you fell in love with will make you want to stay with this felix you no longer know.

so you keep going.

you zip up your backpack, taking a $20 out from your wallet and placing it down on the kitchen counter. you take out an old, crumpled-up receipt, smoothing it out on the counter before writing.

and that’s the last thing you do before you head out the door, placing your set of keys under the mat.

felix gets home late. his boss hates him and makes him do extra paperwork all the time with no overtime. he opens the door, expecting to see you curled up on the couch, watching your shows.

you’re not here.

the apartment feels cold.

he enters your shared bedroom. maybe you’re taking a nap, waiting for him to come home.

you’re not.

the closet is open. half of the clothes are gone.

oh, god.

felix realizes what’s happening.

this can’t be happening.

he runs into the kitchen, seeing a $20 and a receipt with your handwriting, written in your favorite sharpie. he reads it:

i love you.

but i don’t know who you are anymore.

i had to leave.

i’m sorry. please don’t come looking for me.

his eyes well up with tears.

how is he supposed to do this without you?

he crumples up the receipt, throwing it at the wall. he knows he’ll come back for it later. he goes into the - his - bedroom, flopping down on the bed, shoving his face into the pillow as he begins to sob.

he loves you. oh, he loves you so much. how could you do this? how could you leave him like this?

he can’t really blame you. he would leave him, too.

it takes felix a long time to fall asleep, clutching onto your pillow. it smells like you, and maybe that’ll trick his brain into having happy dreams about you.

and when the sun rises, felix ignores it. and when his alarm rings, he ignores it. he holds your pillow even closer.

he hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can sleep this pain away.

#felix #lee felix #stray kids #skz #felix scenarios #lee felix scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #felix imagines #lee felix imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids felix #skz felix #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

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milomeepit · 5 years ago

Text

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter One

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be linked soon!)

Word Count:1307

Chapter Warnings: Homelessness, starving, stranger danger, fairy tales

Roman shivered as he made his way down the street, tugging his jacket tighter around him. It wasn’t quite winter yet, but the bitter chill was already settling over the city, seeping into its inhabitant's bones.

His backpack hung heavy on his shoulders as he wandered through the grey and gloomy city, eyes sweeping the ground for any dropped bit of change. He still had the small stash he’d swiped before leaving home, but it wasn’t enough for a motel room to get out of the cold. Maybe he could try begging or singing for money. It might be his best option at this point.

Many of the stores and restaurants lining the street were plastered with posters and signs declaring their prices, many of them much more than he could afford. He wasn’t sure exactly what the time was, but it wouldn’t be long before the sun began to set, and his growling stomach reminded him that he had yet to eat. He grimaced, curling in on himself, and leaned back against a cold brick wall.

A door swung open, distracting him from his lack of food. He looked down the street to see a tall man wearing a black turtleneck and a light blue half apron with a bright purple pocket sweeping dead leaves from the sidewalk in front of the small door. It didn’t look like it was attached to the pharmacy or the record store on either side, and the area seemed very well kept. The man disappeared back through the door, whistling, taking the broom with him. Roman caught a few faint notes of music before the door swung shut behind him, something warm and cheerful and inviting.

It probably wouldn’t be smart to go wandering into an unmarked door where a strange man could be lurking, in the middle of the city, with not many people around, but... something drew Roman to the door. He found himself standing in front of the dark wood, examining the smooth, clean finish. It was clearly well taken care of, clean and shiny. Even the surrounding sections of wall were free from graffiti, a rare sight in this part of town.

He reached up and grabbed the silver doorknob, then paused. He looked around, up and down the street. For what, he wasn’t sure, but this felt secret, and dangerous, and exciting. Like a portal into a magical world. Exactly the kind of thing he’d been looking for, in other words.

Roman took a deep breath, then pulled open the door and was confronted by a steep, narrow set of stairs that reached up to the second story. “Coraline, eat your heart out,” he breathed, eyes dancing over the staircase. Small painted flowers of every colour and trees curled up the walls like vines, reaching upwards towards the golden light pouring like melted butter from the overhead lamp.

He started up the stairs, vaguely hearing the door swing shut behind him. He trailed his fingertips along the winding stems of the flowers, half expecting them to come away coated with pixie dust. Every step brought him closer to the faint music, the gentle clink of crockery, the smells of paper and butter and cinnamon. His heart thundered as he crept closer to the top of the stairs. Where on earth was he right now?

As his feet hit the top step, his eyes widened. Mismatched bookshelves stood to one side of the large room, making haphazard pathways and tunnels across the hardwood floor. Tables and chairs were scattered around the room, and a counter framed in the corner held a coffee machine and a glass display case lined with mouth-watering treats.

The tall man appeared from a doorway behind the counter and pulled a cupcake out from the case, carrying it over to one of the few occupied tables. He set it down in front of a shorter man with caramel skin and wild curly brown hair, pecking him on the cheek and murmuring something to him with a gentle smile. The other man chuckled, slinging his arms around the tall man’s neck and dotting kisses all over his face.

Roman’s heart ached. He had to be dead, or dreaming. Maybe he’d walked past the wrong alleyway and breathed in some kind of fumes from some weird new drug, and he was hallucinating. Real adults weren’t that sweet, like lovers in a storybook or in one of his favourite movies. Places like this didn’t really exist, with such a cozy, disorderly warmth. He knew that. He scampered in the opposite direction from the two men, squeezing between two of the bookcases and scanning the shelves.

His eyes landed on a familiar red cover, the gold script along the spine shiny and comforting. He eased out the thick book and retreated further into the bookshelves, finding an armchair and curling up with the book in his lap before beginning to quietly read aloud from one of his favourite stories. “‘There was, many years ago, a gentleman who had a charming lady for his wife. They had one daughter only, who was dutiful to her parents. But while she was still very young, her mamma died, to the grief of her husband and daughter. After a time, the little girl’s papa married another lady. However, this lady was proud and haughty, and had two grown-up daughters as disagreeable as herself; so the poor girl found everything at home changed for the worse.’”

He paused for a moment, his fingers tracing the familiar illustration of Cinderella, in her plain dress, sitting by the dark, cold fireplace, her face fixed in a gentle, wistful expression. “‘But she bore all her troubles with patience, not even complaining to her father, and, in spite of her hard toil, she grew more lovely in face and figure every year.’”

Roman squinted at the book as he read, his eyes hurting a little from focusing on the small print. “‘Now the King’s son gave a grand ball, and all persons of quality were invited to it. Our two young ladies where not overlooked. Nothing was now talked of but the rich dresses they were to wear.’” He sighed softly, letting the book fall open on his lap and leaning back in the armchair and looking up at the ceiling. The magic of the ball seemed to pale in comparison to the whimsical atmosphere of the cafe. He wanted to stay here forever. He couldn’t stay here forever. Maybe he could? There were enough tables and chairs and sofas he could probably hide for a good long while.

The scrape of chairs made him jump, and a cheerful voice rang out across the room. “Alrighty, folks! It’s five o’clock, which means we’ve gotta close up and get home. So, I’m gonna have to ask you all to skedaddle. That means any of you bookworms still in the stacks, too!”

Ah. He could always come back tomorrow, as well. They’d probably be open. Maybe they had their hours posted somewhere around the cafe. Or he could just wait until they came back tomorrow morning.

Roman slid the book back onto the shelf, making a mental note of where it was so he could find it again next time, and slipped down the stairs and out the door. He shivered as the cold evening air wrapped around him once again, sticking his hands in his pockets as he turned back down the street towards the park he’d found that morning.

He glanced over his shoulder before he turned the corner, his gaze lingering on the wooden door. “... I’ll be back soon,” He whispered to himself. “It’ll be fine.” He swallowed, trying to force down the sense of dread and anxiety that was clawing up his throat as he set off to find a place to sleep.

#TS-Storytime 2019 Submission #milo writes #ditr #gemstone tales #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides

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meiluka-enthusiast · 5 years ago

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Curtain Call part 7

Monday, November 5th, 20XX

-Luka-

It seems as though night is the most comfortable time for me. It's peaceful here, lying under the covers wrapped in Meiko's arms. If I'm careful I can let my mind wander, exploring the better memories of the past. I roll over and look at the clock on the side table. It's about 6:43 AM, unless the clock has the wrong time. I shiver a bit and snuggle up under the covers again.

The sun is peeking through the trees outside, ready to rise up and warm the world a little more. Today will be a good day. We have a special concert for Meiko today, to celebrate her birthday. The rest of us all have our songs too, but Meiko has two to sing. However, that's not the best part of the day. Once we've finished our events for the day, we're coming back here to have a little party. Meiko doesn't know about the party yet, but we hope she likes it.

Soft footsteps come from the little RV bedroom and I sit up slowly. Piko is coming into the room, followed by Oliver, Kaito, SeeU and Gakupo. They're making an effort to be silent, for the purpose of not waking Meiko. All of them gather around the pullout couch, and Kaito gives me a thumbs up. I know exactly what to do- we discussed this yesterday.

I gently shake Meiko awake, waiting until I see her brown eyes begin to open. Silently, I count to three in my head, and she raises her head a little.

"Happy birthday, Mei!" Gakupo smiles at her and the others repeat the words. Meiko grins at us and sits up, her eyes bright and happy.

"Morning, everyone!" She slips out of bed and goes into the kitchen area, and the rest of us begin the day as normal. I sigh and slip out from under the covers, feeling my feet on the carpet floor. I pull the blankets off the pullout and fold them, then make the couch normal again.

Gakupo's pouring everyone a bowl of cereal. Meiko's brewing coffee, as she usually does in the mornings. Piko's nowhere to be seen, I assume he's getting dressed. SeeU is sitting on the floor, quietly eating cereal, and so is Kaito. I decide to get dressed, so I take a folded set of clothes from my suitcase and go into the bathroom. The outfit I've chosen consists of a white pinstriped sweater and a pair of blue jeans, simple but comfortable. I change out of my grey nightshirt and into the clothing quickly, then run my fingers through my hair to clear out knots.

When I get out of the bathroom, everyone's sitting around on the floor and eating their food. I sit down on the couch and look at the clock. 7:00. Our concert is in three hours.

———————————————————

The stage lights are almost blinding, shining all over us. It's almost like we're the sun, sending out light to the world.

The audience roars as I step onto the stage with the others. They're here to see us, to see Meiko. Every time I face them, my nerves act up and terrify me, but if I just focus on the music then it's easier to have fun. I'm here to share my song with these people, and they're here to accept the music and listen closely.

Sound bursts from the speakers and the music begins. I sing and dance along with the others, our voices spilling colorful notes through the auditorium. I'm beginning to lose myself in the song, forgetting everything else. When I'm onstage, it seems as though I'm completely normal. Like I'm still a virgin, someone with so much life ahead of them. Someone with nothing to hold them down, not in the past or the future or even the present.

As soon as the music stops, we retreat backstage and leave Meiko onstage to perform her first song. The music is still running through me, and I'm excited to perform my song. I get to do one of my favorites, 'Luka Luka ★ Night Fever'. It's an upbeat song and I love the choreography, it lets me transform myself into a happy young woman who wants to dance with someone.

The concert goes by in a blur. I'm the third one up to perform, and it seems like my song only takes seconds. Once Meiko's finished with her second song, we all line up onstage and take a bow. As we're leaving, I feel Meiko slip her hand into mine and my cheeks grow hot. We make our way back to the RV, as it's time to get back on the road.

—————————————

Once we get to our campsite for the night, we can hav some free time. I take Meiko to the bedroom area to play some board games while the others get ready for our little party. Soon enough, SeeU comes in and tells me that it's time. I smile, then grab Meiko's hand and lead her too the main room. The others are there, waiting for us.

"Anybody hungry?" Piko asks. "Hinata and I made dinner." He sets down a bowl of cooked ground beef, as well as some bags of corn chips. I'm guessing that we're having the kind of 'tacos' that everyone makes when they're camping. We all take a bag of chips and get a bit of meat, then find a spot on the floor to sit. I smile when I see Piko eating just as much as the rest of us. It seems he's making good progress.

When everyone's finished, Kaito and SeeU smirk at each other, and SeeU gets up to grab something from the fridge. She comes back with a small cake, simple but pretty- it's decorated with red frosting and two strawberries.

"Happy birthday, Meiko," says SeeU with a smile. She set the cake down on the small table in the kitchen area, then got a knife to cut the cake with. The first slice went to Meiko, and the rest were distributed evenly around us. Piko was the only one who refused his slice, he said he wasn't hungry anymore.

I sat next to Meiko, enjoying the cake and her company. It seemed today had been a good day after all...everyone seemed to have fun.

Soon enough, the time grew late, and we were all tired. Gakupo was the first one to go to bed, he was nearly falling asleep as it was. SeeU followed soon after him, and before we knew it we were all heading to bed. I changed into my nightshirt and curled up on the couch, not even bothering to pull it out. I could feel myself drifting away...

#vocaloid #fanfic #meiko x luka #vocaloid meiko #megurine luka #kaito shion #gakupo #utatane piko #seeu vocaloid #kaito x gakupo

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teatimewithlennon · 5 years ago

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I Know The Way There [John Lennon] - Part 3

~~Lyds has a realization and decides to use her powers to go somewhere she’s never been~~

Part 1 l Part 2

Song For This Part

Word Count: 1396

{I hope you guys don’t think this is too slow. I don’t usually write fanfiction and I want to write this as if it’s a real story I’d write normally. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.}

We continue to dance freely around the cafe, spinning, and cleaning tables.

My father's singing always brings me joy. His pitch is always off, especially on the higher notes. I'd never tell him that because of the look he gets in those old eyes. In them I see myself. I have to same sad grey eyes but, just like him, when music enters my soul, they light up with the spirit of the music.

Watching my father dance brings back memories of watching him and my mother in the kitchen as a child. The way he and mom would sway together, her long skirts flowing and her hips moving. Because of them, I always knew what real love looks like.

Their love was all about soul. It was about the simple pleasures of life. It was about the music they both loved. The slow passionate dancing. The comfort of shared secrets. The appreciation of warm silence. The way their hands felt intertwined with each other.

My eyes light up, "I have an idea!" I shout, running to the back stairs up to the apartment.

"What are yo-" My dad calls out after me, but I'm already up the stairs.

As soon as I reach the top of the stairs I burst into the old apartment. The whole place smell of weed and incense. The living room is decked out with shag carpet. Bright furniture decorates the small space. There's a purple bead curtain leading to the hallway, and I rush through it; to the second door on the left, into my childhood bedroom.

Everything is exactly as it has been since I moved out. By this time the sun shines bright through the old sheer curtains. Outside the window are several potted plants. My old bed sits in the corner with a quilt my grandma made for me spread out. The metal frame swirls in a beautiful pattern and is covered in colorful ribbons. The brick wall behind it is decorated with paintings I had painted years ago. At the foot of the bed is my desk, a mess of notebooks and art supplies of all kinds.

Across from the bed is my mirrored closet, which I swing open. I keep most of my historical fashion here so my roommates don't ask too many questions. My hands run through the cloth, knowing exactly what I'm looking for. When I find it, I yank it out and throw it on the bed, pulling off my clothes.

About 40 minutes later I look in the mirrors and appreciate my work with an affirmative nod.

When I emerge from the back hallway, the cafe has filled out some. I quickly try to walk past my dad as he is serving some teens. I'm not quick enough, though. As he swiftly sets his tray down on another table and grabs my arm.

"What's going on?" He says, very concerned, "You ran off so quickly."

"I had a great idea for some inspiration." I pull my arm away from him, "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"Where are you going?" he asks.

But I'm already out the door

My feet move under me as if I have no control. I don't know where I'm running to, just away from everyone. The oxfords I'm wearing pad against the ground erratically, fueling my energy as I round a corner, running toward the water. I look around me, checking for any passerby. It's all clear. Wood creaks under me as I sprint down an old dock. When I reach the end, I jump.

The late morning sun disappears in an instant. All the sounds of the city vanish and I'm left in the void. The bone-crushing pressure builds around me. My heart beats so hard I feel it might explode. I panic when I feel as though it's been too long.

That's exactly when the weightlessness comes.

My ears pop when all the noises come flooding back. The pain replaces the nothingness but I still can't feel my legs under me so I grasp at anything, ending up leaning against a cold brick wall. My body craves the air that it was missing just seconds before. Cold air blows past me as a hand is placed on my shoulder, pulling me away from the pain in my body and back to the world around me.

"Are you alright?" says the man, voice cloaked in a heavy Liverpool accent.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts and look around before responding. It's very dark and reaks of sweat. There's graffiti all over the walls. Next to me is a heavy metal door with the word exit printed in red on it. I got lucky jumping right before this guy walked in.

"Yeah, It's just my asthma acting up." I manage a smile as I look up at him, my vision is hazy and I can't quite make out his features.

"One of my mates has got asthma, are you sure you'll be okay?"

I straighten up, "Of course," I say beginning to walk away, "thanks for the concern."

The dingy hallway smells of beer. I make my way through the dimly lit building, following the distant sounds of music. Hearing a crowd cheering, I round a corner into the main area of the club.

Looks like I made it right on time, as four familiar faces take the stage.

They begin their set while I work my way through the mass of bodies in front of the stage. I'm not trying to get near the front but rather I just want a drink. I think it's best for me to keep my distance from the boys, seeing as how I know how this all ends.

I manage to find an empty seat at the end of the bar, tucked partially away in a corner. With a drink in hand, I watch the movement of the crowd to songs I have heard thousands of times. I've never been here before, at least not here and now. I'd been to the Cavern Club once with dad on for my 18th birthday.

But being here, now, is like nothing else. I can feel their voices in the air. They have a resonance I have never seen before. I'm one of the luckiest people in the world, watching The Beatles play this early in their careers.

Something in the crowd is pulling me in. I could not tell you what it is, but the only thing in my mind was my body moving with the conglomeration of people. So, I let my body take me where it wanted to go. It's so hot. The air is thick with the smell of perspiration. And somehow I had managed to get myself to the front of the crowd.

I knew every word to what was being sung, and I sing it all out as loud as I can. I don't think much of it.

But on stage, one young man did take notice.

After watching the set, my heart is full. I can't believe what I just saw. There is a smile plastered on my face, and my face is beginning to ache from it. In fact, everything in my body aches, and for once it's not the crushing power of the universe. I make my way back to my dark corner of the bar and watch the rest of the night tick by; drinking and taking in the ambiance of the seedy club.

I watch everything move, time feels as if it has sped up just for me and soon enough the club's patrons had thinned out, and I've zoned out into the universe. My thoughts on the whole reason I came here, to find some inspiration.

My mom used to tell me she had believed that the only musicians to ever truly understand love, was The Beatles. I grew up listening to these songs, but I never felt like I really understood what she meant. And while I was star struck, I don't know if I really feel the love she was talking about.

A knock on the bar next to me pulls me out of my thoughts; it seems I've been stuck their pretty often lately.

"You know, for a bird with asthma, you have a pretty good set of lungs," the man says.

#John Lennon #beatles #john lennon fanfiction #the beatles #slowburn #beatles fanfiction #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfiction #time travel au #time travel #George Harrison #paul mccartney #Ringo Starr #john #slow burn #IKTWT

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mythiica · 6 years ago

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Reader x Hideyoshi Toyotomi - Wash Your Worries Away

Title: Wash Your Worries Away

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Hideyoshi Toyotomi

Genre: angst but then to fluff

Warnings: none!

Intended Gender Audience: Female audience

Word Count: 690 words

Other comments: for my good friend @kiarigirl-blog~

You pull your knees to your chest and wipe your face with the long sleeve of your kimono. Hopefully it’s not too obvious that you’ve been trying, but you see streaks of black on the fabric, and you whine hopelessly. It wasn’t like you to be so upset over something like this, but the problem ate at your insides and consumed your thoughts. Not having any more energy to fight against it, you hid from the warlords and took some time for yourself.

However, your solitude is short lived as Hideyoshi takes a seat next to you on the bench. He scratches the back of his neck as you sniffle, searching for the right words to say.

“Do not take to heart the things Ieyasu says. He is a sour man with a bad taste for women,” Hideyoshi says, his face lifted upwards. Grey clouds swirl above the two of you, but a warbler flies overhead, singing a beautiful song. “Even Lord Nobunaga scolded him for being so rude. He says you are welcome in the war council whenever you please.”

Without turning to face Hideyoshi, you nod your head in acknowledgement. He goes silent again, and you’re actually rather surprised. The motherly Hideyoshi is at a loss for words? This wouldn’t happen easily, so you put your legs down and lean against him.

Hideyoshi tucks his arm around you and presses a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Should he try something like that again – no matter what the cause – he’ll be in a lot of trouble. Not just with Lord Nobunaga, but with me as well.”

“Wow, so scary,” you retort with a flat voice.

“Have you seen me upset? Like properly upset, not just… angry at Lord Nobunaga for over indulging on konpeito… but boiling with anger.”

A gentle rain begins to fall from the sky, and a drop lands on your nose.

You finally lift your chin to look at Hideyoshi. There is a softness in his gaze that does not match the threats he is making. “You’re too kind to do something like that.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You weren’t here when I nearly had a mental breakdown. Ask Masamune about it when you can. He refers to it as a volcanic eruption.” Hideyoshi tightens his grip on you, his fingers brushing past your hip, causing you to laugh involuntarily.

“Hey! I’m ticklish there-”

But you’ve already revealed your vulnerable spot, and Hideyoshi picks you up bridal style before proceeding to carry you to the gazebo. He sits you down on the bench and tickles you mercilessly. You laugh and kick, but he only catches your wrists and kisses you gently, wiping away all sadness that had infested you earlier.

“Alright! Hide! I’m okay-”

He leans back and adjusts his robes that have fallen out of place from attacking you. Straightening his posture, Hideyoshi runs his hand through his slightly damp hair and stands up to pace around the covered area. The rain falls harder, so he taps his lip in thought. “I don’t want you to get wet, so it seems like we might be here for a while-”

But you dart out into the rain, dancing around in the puddles as water soaks your hair and clothes. “Join me!” you laugh, reaching out towards him.

Baffled, Hide raises an eyebrow at you.

“It’s only water, my Lord,” you tease.

Hideyoshi exhales and shakes his head. “Sometimes, you worry me like Lord Nobunaga.” But he then proceeds to follow you into the rain. You throw your arms over his shoulders and press your forehead to his. All your worries from before have melted away as the rain washes over your skin. You focus all of your attention on Hideyoshi and the moment you’re sharing with him.

Nothing else can get to you while you’re spending this time with him, and Hideyoshi, though soft and kind, will not hesitate to protect you. The thought of that comforts you as he captures your lips once more in a gentle, but loving, kiss, sealing his promise in the rain.

#hideyoshi #ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #fluff #cybird #otome

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impossible-rat-babies · 6 years ago

Note

DWC!!! “ you were too late. ”

Bull + Dimitri | 1744 word count | Fluff!

for @dadrunkwriting

The sounds of wood against metal—training dummies abandoned to the frost—along with whoops and hollers in the early morning light filled empty training yard. The sun was hanging above them, but the morning light hadn’t warmed the slick, frost touched grass beneath their feet.

Dimitri skidded back from a blow, his own parrying attack slipping off Bull’s shield, teeth rattling at the force. He carried the momentum down and spun himself back and away from Bull’s next blow, staff pointed before him. He breathed deeply, cool mountain air of Skyhold sharp and almost painful in his lungs. It set his bare copper skin to shivering gooseflesh, sweat rolling to settle in the hollow of his throat.

“Almost late there, Boss!” Bull followed the mage as he circled, wide grin on his face. He swung his mock sword around, his own bare chest moving at a quicker clip. A quick laugh bursted from Dimitri’s chest, tongue wetting his lips.

“Maybe you’ll get your timing right this time, Bull!” He goaded, a grin across his own face and he swung his practice staff around, priming it for another attack. Bull squared off—set and steady like always—before he charged.

The strike of sword and staff rattled arms, but Dimitri parried the blow with practiced ease, giving him enough time to slip past a blow from the shield. Bull easily countered and kept up the attacks, just as relentless in practice as he was on the battlefield. Half of a battle was morale and with Bull coming after you, it was easy for Dimitri to see how terrifying he was.

‘You see a Qunari in full armor, you run.’

Bull’s warning bounced in his head as he parried another series of blows, feinting to the left before going low on his blind side. He gave a harsh whack to Bull’s ribs, momentum carrying him out of reach of the counter.

Bull remained unfazed by the blow, raising his sword and shield.

Seeing his blade raised and the battle in his eyes made Dimitri’s heart race and his blood sing. The thrill of it—the rush of adrenaline. In the heat of the spar, the pair of them trading hits back and forth, Bull’s one eye staring him down like it was a contest he was going to win, Dimitri felt that humming thrill beneath his fingernails. Akin to the lightning he could so easily conjure—the thrill of mana untapped. Danger around the corner.

Fear was for many, but the thrill of a fight was for the few.

One foot ill-placed—slipping on the wet grass—and he corrected even though he didn’t have the time. Bull caught him, using his imbalance to catch him off guard. He lifted his staff to block the blow, but he knew it wasn’t worth it.

“You’re too late!” He goaded, the mock sword slipping between his arm and his side, staff just barely too short of blocking the blow. Bull gave him a grin like he had won, but Dimitri matched that, the advantage obvious in his eyes. Hands no longer tensed around the grip, sword locked between his hold on his staff, easily to knock aside…

Dimitri tensed, quickly and harshly twisting his staff, knocking the blade from Bull’s hand in a flash. It flew off to the side, leaving him defenseless. He pointed his staff at Bull’s face, triumph crossing his face as he tapped Bull’s neck and chest.

“Match.” Dimitri declared, stomping his staff into the ground, bare chest swelling with deep breaths. Bull conceded the victory even as Dimitri saw a light of contention in his gaze.

“I think the rules went surrender or lethal blow.” Bull huffed at him and Dimitri rolled his eyes.

“A stomach wound isn’t lethal.” Dimitri reminded him, leaning against his staff as he observed Bull picking up the thrown sword, measuring the blade in front of him.

“Most of the time when I stab folks in the stomach, they die.” Bull pointed out and Dimitri smoothed a few hairs from his face, tucking white strands into complex braids.

“Most folks you fight aren’t Mages like me.” He added and Bull let out a laugh.

“A lot of Mages aren’t like you.” Bull supplied helpfully and Dimitri snickered yet again, watching as Bull’s eyes trailed down to his exposed stomach and the gnarled scar tissue covering most of it. A scar with a story he had yet to hear.

“Ever so kind to point that out to me.” Dimitri commented, knowing the observation was just that, even with the teasing gleam in Bull’s eye. Dimitri wasn’t like many Mages and Bull knew that as well as everyone else.

“Since when did the Inquisitor have so much fun sparring?” He observed and Dimitri let out another snicker.

“Since it’s become so much fun to watch you get overconfident and have me best you.” He remarked and Bull let out a loud laugh, the sound filling Dimitri’s chest with a comforting warmth.

“Ha, we’re that matched in combat?”

“I’d say so since you only have two fights ahead of me on the count. We’ve been sparring for months.”

It was always a back and forth of who was going to win. Their evening spars used to host bets from the soldiers who enjoyed watching their antics. Most had figured the odds in Bull’s favor, considering many didn’t think a mage to have it in them to best a warrior of Bull’s size. But, ever since Dimitri had laid Bull flat on his back with a staff directly as his neck, people placed their bets more evenly.

But it eventually turned to a distraction and Cullen had seen fit to send many off on evening duties and briskly insinuate the pair were better off sparring in the morning. The cold air did Dimitri good anyway, no matter how much he loathed it.

“Well, looks like we’re up one to one this time.” Bull replied and Dimitri tapped his staff into the ground in response.

Not far off, the chittering of people caught his ears and he turned his gaze, spying a host of soldiers all dressed for their own morning practice. Inevitably a squad heading out into the Western Approach, trying to get in some practice. They would be departing themselves for the area in a few days; Hawke and Loghain’s leads in Crestwood only confirmed the reports they had gotten from the region.

The soldiers looked on the pair hesitantly and both of them looked to each other, a grin filling Bull’s face. He didn’t even have to ask--his expression eager enough--and Dimitri thumped his staff in the dirt, lifting and swinging it around. Bull loudly knocked his pommel into his shield, the sound echoing across the field.

Dimitri lingered on the balls of his feet, adrenaline singing in his veins as Bull charged. He parried the blow from his sword, bare shoulder briskly meeting the shield with a loud THWAK!

He held tight against his hold, grinding his teeth even with the pain sliding all the way down to his toes.

“You okay there, Boss?” Bull taunted with a grin and Dimitri chuckled, sweat beading under his brow.

A sharp knock of his staff to the side of Bull’s knee caught him enough for Dimitri to disengage, dancing away from Bull as he shook off the vibrations in his bones.

The pair continued to trade blows and grazes, easily drawing the attention of the soldiers. They gathered on the edge of the ring, their conversation lost to Dimitri in the heat of the spar, blows flying past him. The crowd whistled and their small talking grew louder, but Dimitri has naught the ears nor eyes to keep up with them.

Bull tweaked just enough to the outside for Dimitri to easily slip past, easily and roughly landing a few hard whacks to Bull’s back. Bull quickly flipped back around--faster than Dimitri had thought--the shield landing a harsh smack to his side. The pain blinded him a moment as the scars screamed, but he conjured enough sense to keep his staff raised and pull away from Bull. It took naught a moment to get his bearings back, but the brief moments counted. Even so, the blow had hit and hurt hard.

Bull kept him on the defense after that--only leaving him time to parry blows-- but he could see how the growing crowd made it a performance for him. And a performance meant showing off; the stakes were low enough for some gravitas and Dimitri knew it.

Bull took his stance too wide and Dimitri’s hands stung with electricity, quickly and sharply snapped his staff against the inside of Bull’s thigh, the lightning quickly discharging. He flinched and the falter was enough for Dimitri to swing his staff back up, whacking him in the jaw. The blow sent him stumbling into the ground and Dimitri swung his staff back around to point in his throat, placing his foot over top of his chest.

“Match.” Dimitri called, a grin on his lips and something like fire burning in his eyes and in the pit of his stomach. The crowd whooped and hollered, Bull raising his hands in surrender. Dimitri stepped off him, offering a hand.

The squad captain barked at the lot of them from across the field as Dimitri helped Bull to his feet. They all quickly obeyed the order, leaving the pair alone once more.

“You cheated.” Bull promptly told him and Dimitri slouched, a tic forming in his jaw.

“You are incorrigible.” Dimitri countered, planting a hand on his hip with an incredulous look.

“Cheating is less than being an ass, Kadan.” Bull remarked and Dimitri rolled his eyes.

“You were enjoying giving a show, so it only felt right to take matters into my own hands. Briefly. Plus a little shock never hurt anyone.” A bit of lighting buzzed between Dimitri’s thumb and index finger, a snap sending the brief spark rolling with a whiff of ozone.

“Still cheated.” Bull grumbled and Dimitri breathed out, a chuckle rising in his throat.

“Come on…” Dimitri patted his chest, a soft smile on his face that was growing to only be reserved for Bull. The sun broke across the training yard, the dawn breaking through into the day to color the grass and old stone walls. It painted across the both of them, grey and copper glowing in the warmth. “This place is gonna fill up soon.”

#dragon age #da fanfic #bull x lavellan #bullavellan #iron bull #oc tag #dimitri #otp: oh lord don't take that sinner from me #thank you!#i've been sitting on this prompt for a week now #buzzing about posting it #ashetrashe #owen writes

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rawrkittenpurr · 7 years ago

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Personal Trainer AU - Jack Maynard Imagine

Word count: 4068

Rating: Explicit (really, truly explicit. mostly pwp smut. please don’t read if you are underage and/or unconfortable with that)

Warnings: none

Summary: Jack is substituting for your regular PT. Sex ensues.

„Hi, my name is Y/N and I have a session booked in with Louisa at six”, you said to the girl at the reception, handing over your gym membership card.

„Oh, I’m so sorry, Louisa had to call in sick today. Someone should’ve called you, but they must have forgotten. I’m terribly sorry, it’s been a bit of a rush here today, with two of our trainers feeling poorly… But I’m sure we can find someone to cover your session, or you could go in and train on your own? Of course we will refund you the price of the training!” the girl said apologetically.

“Honestly, don’t worry about it. I’m sure all your trainers are equally good, I don’t mind if someone else takes over, truly. But please do find someone for me, because left to my own devices I know I will just spend 20 minutes on the elliptical watching Brooklyn 99 and call it a day”, you smiled at the girl. It was Friday night, you had a busy week of work behind you and you were not feeling very motivated as of that moment. You came to the gym straight from the office, because you knew from experience that if you’d had to go home to get your stuff, you would’ve just slumped down on the couch and probably not moved until midnight.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do for you. You can go ahead and get changed, and someone will be waiting for you when you’re done”, the receptionist said, handing you a lock and key for the lockers as well as a towel, “and thank you for being so understanding!”

You quickly changed into your workout gear – black leggings, a black sports bra and a flowy purple workout top with an open back –, pulled your hair into a ponytail so it wouldn’t bother you, grabbed your water bottle and the towel and headed out of the changing room. You were greeted by a blonde guy about your age, with really pretty blue eyes. He was attractive. This was going to be interesting.

“Hey, you must be Y/N. I’m Jack, and I’ll be kicking your arse today.”

“And I bet you’re going to enjoy that, won’t you”, you said to test the waters.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you enjoy it too, don’t you worry”, he replied, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. This was indeed going to be interesting all right.

“So I thought we could start with some warm-up, and in the meantime you can tell me about what you’ve been doing with Louisa, what your goals are, so that I can get a better picture of what you’re looking for, does that sound ok to you?”, Jack asked once you’ve walked over to the training area.

“Sure. I’ve been training with Louisa for about two months now I think. I don’t really have a specific goal in mind, I just kinda want to be the fittest version of myself if that makes sense?” you started to explain while Jack was directing you to do some jumps to get your heartrate up. “I used to always say to myself I’ll do it one day, like I’ll do it for my wedding or something, but then one day something in my brain just clicked and I thought why wait, why not do it now?” “So, no wedding coming up then?” Jack intercepted.

“Oh no, definitely single AF”, you laughed, “but it’s chill. I mean, I have everything I need”, you said, first of all to clarify that you were not desperate and second, because it was true. You were really not looking for a relationship and were perfectly happy with the arrangements you had going on when it came to sex. “Anyway”, you continued, progressively getting more out of breath, “don’t get me wrong, I still hate all of this. But then I see the results and I’m like yeah, it’s worth it.”

“I can see that”, Jack said, and you were pretty sure he was checking you out.

Jack was not kidding when he said he would kick your ass. He gave you a very intense workout that pushed you to your limits, but you actually enjoyed it. You preferred working hard over half-assing your workouts; it gave you the satisfaction of knowing you did your best. You also had the feeling he had you do more squats than strictly necessary just so he could check your butt out, but you couldn’t say you minded that either.

“So, it’s Friday, you got any plans tonight?” Jack asked you as you were finishing up your stretching.

“I was actually planning on watching Netflix on my couch, but after this workout I feel strangely energised, so I might need to change those plans”, you admitted.

“Me and a few mates are actually going clubbing later, you can join us if you like. It’ll be around midnight though probably, so I don’t know if you’ll still be awake…”

This went easier than you thought. It wasn’t suave or smart, you could tell Jack was the sort of guy to rely on his looks and charm rather than his wit to woo over the ladies. But in all fairness, he was hot and he did ask you out and he was being quite direct about it, which you appreciated.

“I’m not actually a grandma, I’ll have you know. Midnight sounds good, text me where?” you held out your hand for his phone.

Once you got home, you popped into the shower, washed your hair, moisturised thoroughly with a lotion that made your skin look glowing and smelled deliciously like a tropical cocktail on a beach, poured yourself a big glass of wine, then decided to potter around naked for the next few hours. At around 11, your phone buzzed with a text from Jack.

“Hey Y/N

You still up?”

At this point, you were about 3 glasses of wine in, and still naked, but at least you had successfully finished putting on your makeup.

“Yeah I’m good, just getting ready. Wby?” you texted back.

“Pre-gaming at Joe’s. Gonna get going soon though”

You wrapped yourself in your previously discarded towel, grabbed your wine glass and took a selfie. “Cheers!” you typed, sending the pic to Jack. His reply was a string of emojis, including the fire and the dancing girl one. He also sent you the name of the club and told you to meet them up front in half an hour.

It was time to get dressed. You decided on a set consisting of a high-waisted, tight midi skirt and a crop top. The outfit hugged your curves and showed off a bit of your tummy. Essentially, it put your whole body on display while still making you look relatively dressed up. You debated for a while if Jack was worth wearing heels for, but ultimately decided in favour of them. Then you grabbed your bag and headed down to your Uber.

The club Jack told you to meet them at was of the posh but tacky variety, trying really hard to look like it was in Vegas or something, with secluded ‘VIP areas’ with white leather couches and low, mirrored coffee tables. It was the sort of club mostly frequented by girls in their late teens and men of all ages trying to hit on them. You didn’t much mind the club though, because the music was good, a mixture of hip-hop and R’n’B, easy to dance to and in your opinion much nicer than the monotonous, electronic stuff. There was a little bit of a line forming out front, you hoped that the club would be decently full but not jam-packed. Getting out of the car, you spotted Jack standing a little bit off to the side with a small group of people, and walked over.

“Damn, Y/N”, Jack exclaimed, checking you out from head to toe as you were approaching him, “you looked fine this afternoon, but this is on a whole new level!” He pulled you in and kissed you on the cheek. He smelled really nice, cool and clean and fresh, but with an undercurrent of something spicy.

“You’re not looking so bad yourself, I must say”, you licked your lips. Jack was wearing a dark blue and red, tropical patterned silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a few of the top buttons unbuttoned, tight, ripped black jeans and white sneakers. His hair was tousled and wavy and somehow looked both softer and blonder than in the gym. You had the urge to run your hand through it, although you were quite sure it was probably less soft and way more stiff with product than it looked. Also that he wouldn’t appreciate you messing it up. Also that you would totally still do that later.

He waved you over and quickly introduced you to the bunch of people he was with: Joe, Conor, Mikey, Caspar, as well as a few girls whose name you didn’t bother to remember.

“It really isn’t fair”, you heard Joe complain to no one in particular, “Jack pulling these girls who are out of his league all the time.” Jack replied with a grin, saying how it was one of the perks that came with his job. You were not sure if this whole exchange was intended to be much more subtle or if Jack just didn’t care if his dates knew he was a bit of a player, but it was okay. You weren’t looking for anything serious either.

“Come on, Y/N”, Jack motioned you over and put his arm around your waist, skipping the line and guiding you directly towards the door, “this way.”

“Are you famous or something?” you teased as you realized you were entering directly through the previously described VIP lounge.

“I got connections”, he smiled, wiggling his brows at you.

Once inside, you each took a shot of vodka from the chilled bottle of Grey Goose that seemed to have materialised on the table in front of you as soon as the group walked in. A few of the guys took some pics and videos for their Snapchats and Insta stories that some of the girls with you tried really hard to be included in, while others were basically hiding. This was weird, but it was none of your business. A few minutes passed, and you were happily singing along to the songs the DJ was playing, dancing around a little on the spot. You really just wanted to get out on the dancefloor, so you took Jack’s hand and pulled him with you as the tunes of the new Jason Derulo song started blasting from the speakers. You were a decent dancer – definitely not able to come up with imaginative freestyle choreographies on the spot, and you were never quite sure what to do with your hands; but you were pretty good at copying other people’s moves and really good at twerking. What surprised you more was that while most boys tended to just hop from one leg to the other and stay in the background, Jack could actually keep up with you, pulling you closer and giving you space at the right moments while also showing off his moves.

“That was hot”, you exclaimed as the song ended. In return, Jack pulled you in close, grabbed your butt and kissed you hard on the mouth. It was a nice kiss, more lips than tongue, soft and wet and warm, inviting and exploring rather than aggressive and pushy. You had one hand on the small of his back, just above the waistband of his jeans, the other around his neck. You flexed your fingers and scraped your nails slightly against the back of his head, which he seemed to like, as he responded by squeezing you even closer to him, both of his hands on your backside still. Jack licked along your lips and you opened them slightly. Suddenly, he bit down against your lower lip and you pulled in a sharp breath, digging your nails into his skin. Opening your eyes and taking a step back, you broke the kiss and started dancing again. Turning you around, he drew you close to him again so that your back was against him, kissed the spot between your neck and shoulder softly and started to move against you, following the music.

The two of you spent the next hour or so dancing, grinding and making out on the dancefloor, only heading back to your booth twice for a bit of rest, drinks and a few words of shouted conversation over the music. As the night progressed, more of the buttons on Jack’s shirt became undone and you could now see quite a bit of his tanned chest. You have teased each other so long, both of you were completely turned on. You had butterflies in your tummy, a big smile plastered on your face and a pleasant, tingling sensation all over your body, as if your skin was electrified. You were also quite sure you could feel his hardness pushing against your thigh as you pressed into him while dancing. You lowered one hand and traced the outline of his bulge, palming him through his jeans. So far, you had no complaints.

“You wanna get out of here?” you heard Jack shout.

You nodded. “Back to mine? No flatmates, and it’s close to here. I’ll go to the loo and call an Uber, meet me at the booth in 10?”

When you got back to the VIP section, you found only Caspar and two girls at your table. Nevertheless, you said your goodbyes and made your way to the car already waiting for you outside. Thankfully, your flat was indeed close by and in the sparse night-time traffic it only took you about 10 minutes to get there. Which was for the best, because you two had a really hard time keeping your behaviour in the backseat decent. Your skirt, which normally reached to your knees, was pushed up to mid-thigh level, and Jack was stroking along the inside of your leg. Your hands found their way under his shirt, tracing out the hard edges of his body. You were kissing each other differently now, longer, passionately and with more intent, sucking and biting. By the time the car pulled up in front of your house, you were burning with anticipation. Although you usually didn’t tend to, you tipped the driver and made sure to give him 5 stars, he definitely deserved it.

Once you got up to your flat, you kicked off your heels and motioned to the left.

“Bedroom’s that way, bathroom too. Go on, I’ll be there in a minute. And wash your hands, will ya?”

While Jack took off towards your bedroom, you went to the kitchen, washed your hands and filled up two large glasses with cold water, then you followed him into your bedroom. Jack was lying back against the headboard of your bed, still completely dressed but with his shirt now completely open and hanging off his shoulders. He looked incredible, eyeing you expectantly. You handed him one of the waters and drank most of yours, setting the glass down on your dresser, a safe distance away from the bed. You shortly debated your range of movement, then decided to strip out of your skirt, discarding it on the floor.

“Nice”, Jack said in a low voice, sitting up a little straighter and putting down his glass of water. “Louisa’s been doing a good job”, he added, regaining his composure. You poked your tongue out and wiggled your butt at him, then walked over and straddled him, placing your knees on each side of his hips. Taking his shirt off completely, you finally had access to all of his upper body, something you have been looking forward to all night. You brushed your fingers lightly against his tattoos.

“You like them?” Jack asked you. “Yeah”, you admitted, your voice a little breathy, “They’re really nice.”

You kissed him again, then proceeded to kiss down the line of his neck and all along his shoulder, leaving behind little wet spots. All the while, your hands were roaming his body, grabbing and stroking. You couldn’t get enough of him. Moving downwards, you flicked your tongue experimentally against his right nipple.

“Come here”, Jack said, and you sat up a little. He took off your top and bra and started playing with your boobs, licking and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while teasing the other one with his fingers.

“Mhhhhm”, you moaned, rolling your hips down onto his dick almost involuntarily. Pulling back slightly, you unbuckled his belt and worked his fly open, removing his jeans and underwear in one go. Then you took a few seconds to look at his now exposed penis. As you suspected, he was a decent size, slightly thicker towards the head, pretty straight and uncut. All in all, you were impressed. You took a sip of water, gave him a peck on the lips and leaned back to pull your hair up into a ponytail. You could see him perk up, after all, this was basically the universally accepted sign of ‘she’s gonna go down on you’.

Taking him in your hand, you swirled your tongue around the head, getting it nice and wet before taking it into your mouth fully. Keeping him steady with your hand, you bobbed your head up and down a few times, sucking slightly more as you were coming up, but not taking his whole length in fully yet.

“Talk to me, Jack”, you said, pulling off. “Tell me what you want.”

You were not averse to some dirty talk in the first place. Plus you pegged Jack for a talker, which hopefully meant he would be into this too. But most importantly, you had literally known him less than 12 hours, and you didn’t have any time to experiment. If you were both going to get what you wanted from this, you needed to ensure good communication.

Putting his dick back in your mouth, you started moving again, joining your mouth’s movement with your hand too, really getting into it. With each downward stroke you took him in deeper, until you managed to get all of him in. His right hand flew to the back of your head to keep you in place as you were moving just the tiniest bit, without really pulling back at all.

“Fuck, you’re good at this”, Jack proclaimed, and you would’ve chuckled at the compliment, except you didn’t want to choke nor gag. Pulling back, you started moving again, quicker this time, licking against the vein on the underside of his penis and swirling your tongue around the head at every move.

“Fuck. Okay, baby, keep doing that, but with a hint of teeth. Just like that, yeah. And play with my balls”, Jack was finally finding his words and you were on fire. You gave better head turned on, and giving it turned you on even more, so this was a win-win situation. Jack’s words went straight to your core and you could feel yourself getting wetter. You could also taste Jack’s pre-come in your mouth and felt his balls tighten as you were juggling them between your fingers, so by all means, this was working for both of you. With one last satisfied pop, you pulled your mouth off his Jack’s dick. Standing up, you took off your panties and opened the first drawer of your bedside table, taking out a condom and throwing it in Jack’s general direction on the bed. It was time to get things moving along.

“Do we have to?” he asked, with a slightly whiney but mostly just curious tone.

“Yes”, you cut the discussion short. Although you were on hormonal birth control too, so it wouldn’t have been necessary, you were sleeping with several people and you assumed Jack was as well, and STIs were really not fun.

Hopping back on the bed, you lied down next to Jack. Once he was done adjusting the condom, he lied back as well, turning on his side to face you. Cradling the side of your cheek with his left hand, he kissed you, reaching down with his right and swiping a finger along your pussy tentatively. You adjusted your position, opening up your legs to give him better access.

“You’re already so wet for me, babe”, he hummed appreciatively, “I wanna see how fast I can make you come.”

Pushing a finger into you, he pumped in and out a few times before adding a second one. Moving more in an up and down manner rather than in and out, he was brushing against your G-spot and you moaned out. Seemingly on their own accord, your hips moved against his fingers, meeting his strokes.

“Yeah… more… like that”, you brought out.

His left hand had never left the side of your face, now he swiped his thumb against your lips and you sucked his finger into your mouth readily. He continued stroking against you and you could feel yourself getting closer, your hips flailing aimlessly, desperately trying to find some more friction. Jack’s right thumb came up to circle your clit in time with his brushes against your insides, and in a few minutes you were coming, crying out and biting down on his finger in your mouth as your whole body flexed.

“Please, in me, now!” you exhaled desperately, grabbing the base of his cock and lining him up. He slid into you easily, pushing in completely and starting up a steady rhythm. You took a second to appreciate Jack’s figure above you. His carefully styled hair was more dishevelled now, a fine line of sweat forming at his temples along his hairline. You remembered your urge from earlier in the night to run your fingers through his hair. Curving your fingers around the back of his head, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him. You were beyond words now, the only sounds escaping you being sighs and moans. With both of your hands around his neck, you held on tightly as he pumped into you, meeting his thrusts halfway. Slowly, you started to regain your composure. You could tell Jack was getting more tired, his rhythm growing increasingly erratic and irregular.

“Let me get on top”, you suggested.

Jack lied back gladly, helping you carefully readjust your position and sliding back into you. After a few slow and deep movements, you kept him buried deep in you, rocking your hips back and forth. You leaned back slightly, finding the perfect angle. Moving forwards and up, Jack was hitting your G-spot with every thrust, rubbing against the sensitive area all the way. Cradling your own breast, you started caressing your nipples, getting lost in pleasure. You locked eyes with Jack, who was watching you with pupils blown wide, his mouth slightly open.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N”, he sighed in an exasperated voice.

“Touch me”, you replied and Jack obliged, one hand coming up to your waist as the other touched your butt, grabbing and massaging slightly.

Speeding up your movements, you could feel yourself getting close again, but you were also becoming impatient. You began stroking your clit with one hand, the combination of stimuli soon pushing you over the edge of your second orgasm. The pleasure rocked through your body, your eyes squeezing shut and your head falling back in ecstasy. As soon as you were able to catch your breath a little bit, you leaned forward again, supporting yourself on your elbows on either side of Jack’s body. He thrusted into you deeply a few more times before he came with a choked moan.

You waited a few seconds for both of your breathing to return to normal, then got off him carefully, sitting down at the edge of the bed and drinking a few sips of water. Jack got rid of the condom, then lied down, kissing you sweetly and pulling you down with him.

“That was fun”, he said, smiling at you.

“Yeah”, you agreed, wiggling down lower and pulling up the duvet to cover you; smiling back at him happily, “it really was.”

#jack maynard #jack maynard imagines #jack maynard oneshot #jack maynard smut #buttercream imagines #youtube stuff #words*mine #what's the difference between an imagine and a oneshot and am i doing this right #@all my sane followers i'm so sorry #this boy is apparently driving me crazy

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silenciawrites · 6 years ago

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Camp Nano Weekly Roundup

Stats

Plan: Finish the first draft of Classifieds

Camp goal: 40 000 words

Currently at: 31 000 words

Week’s Best: 3 000

This week was rough. I’m preparing to move and am dealing with packing, disconnecting my Internet, etcetera, but we’re still moving along okay!

Favourite Snippet:

Warning: body horror

Before Doll Girl does anything else, even finding the others and telling them what they must do, she goes to the basement. It will take Father a while to reach the top of the mountain, so she has the time.

Her footsteps, normally quiet, echo in the silence of this disused hall. Leucosia’s talons clack against the stone just behind her. There’s a disturbance of the dust, as though someone else has been down here recently. She almost wishes that were the case; she does not relish the task before her. But she could never give this to any of her siblings, never allow this to weigh on their shoulders as it will weigh on hers.

She pushes open the door to the basement. “You can stay up here,” she tells her partner.

Leucosia tilts her head, dark eyes staring into hers, and says simply, “No.”

Doll Girl nods in acquiescence and turns away. Her partner still at her side, she follows the distant sound of shrieks down, down into the dark.

At the final door between her and them, she pauses momentarily and looks back at Leucosia. The Siren says, between their minds, “You do not have to do this for him.” She’s said it before.

Doll Girl has never listened.

“If not for him, for them,” she says, and pushes the door open.

The screams quickly overwhelm her senses; the smell of dust and rot pervades the area. Doll Girl would hold her breath, but she can’t. She’ll need it to sing. Her practiced strategist’s eye assesses the low, dark room even as her breath backs into her chest. There are only a few dozen, but that is so many more than she’d thought there would be.

Everywhere she looks, she sees all shades of grey and brown with sickly green undertones; only a few of them have some last remnants of colour to skin or fur or feathers. Though those hints of colour look as though they’d been dunked in dirty dishwater, it’s still some hint of the beauty they’d once had. Some of them cower back from her entrance, stumbling back a step or two before falling and screaming at the ceiling. A few shift forward, one so far that it loses its balance and tumbles to its knees. More do not react at all. Maybe they don’t even know that she’s there.

The Siren stands behind her, and she can feel her own horror and pity echoing back from her Classified. Without thinking, she reaches to the side, looking automatically for Leucosia’s reassuring touch.

The hand that touches hers feels like paper drawn over bone: dry and cold and dusty. She snatches her hand back and turns to look. For a second, she stops breathing.

It might have been a girl, once. Its ribcage is so visible, its body so emaciated, that she really can’t tell. The strands of hair still clinging to its skull are a moldy grey, full of dust and tangles. It looks up at her with a mouth twisted into a permanent scream. A film of dust covers its eyes, still faintly blue, but under it she thinks she can still see some spark of knowing.

The creature behind it…stars, the creature behind it. Its head hangs almost to the ground, bony muzzle just brushing the stone floor. She can count each of its ribs, and the legs are so skinny she doesn’t understand how it can hold up its own weight. There are holes in its ears, like a curtain that the moths have gotten at. Its lips are mostly gone, leaving wide skeletal teeth constantly showing. Under the thick coating of dust turning its hair grey, it might have been black once.

It’s far gone, but Doll Girl has lived with one long enough to know a Kelpie when she sees it.

She takes a stumbling step back, one hand rising to her mouth in silent anguish. It—she—her mind gives her a flash, just an instant of pale grey eyes staring up at her in place of the wide dusty ones gazing at her with something like the blank dumb agony of an animal. How could a creature that’s kin to the pretty shining Keshtal, who dances through their halls upstairs, become…something like this? How could—

“It is not Talhambras,” says Leucosia gently over the Link. “It is not Keshtal.”

It isn’t. But it could have been. If he’d come to them just a little bit sooner. It could have been any of them, if they’d come to the fortress just a little earlier.

The creature that should have been a Bonded lifts its pitiful, shaking hand up to her. What little flesh is left has been eaten away by time and bugs near the fingertips, but the gesture is one of supplication. The gesture brings to mind a voice she doesn’t want—

“Please. Just tonight.” A shaking breath almost like a sob, and Doll Girl knows she’s going to agree, because she always does when Fiera is like this. “Please.”

—that she never wants to think of in the context of this moment. But all the same, it lends her gentleness. She steps forward this time and crouches to be on eye level with the creature. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I wish I could do more for you.”

Cautiously, she touches two fingertips to the Bonded’s jutting cheekbone to keep its head steady on its frail neck. Looking into those dusty eyes, she tracks the spark of something still in them, and she sings a tune that has not come from her lips since her eighteenth birthday.

She had expected flashbacks. Memories. Grief. But it has been a long time since Maslia, and sometimes she can barely recall her face. She mourns—perhaps she always will—but the Siren’s song of death never falters or wavers as she watches that last little glimmer of light in the creature’s eyes go out. When what’s left of the Classified collapses like a puppet with its strings abruptly cut, when what should have been a Bonded falls away from her gentle touch, she lets them go.

Rising to her feet, she scans the rest of the room. None of the others seem to react to the death of these two, at least not the way she had anticipated. They aren’t backing away, trying to escape her. The screams have not ceased, but they’ve grown quieter, and all the lost souls are looking at her now. She stiffens, prepared to fight if she needs to; she’s already seen how frail and uncoordinated they are. Even as they shuffle in, she holds her ground.

She feels a gentle plucking at the hem of her skirt, slow and weak, but rhythmic. Looking down, she sees another of the creatures. This one is so frail it cannot stand, and has crawled to her feet; it must be using all its energy to try and get her attention. It stares back up at her with filmy eyes and wails.

“What does it want?” she asks across the Link.

Before Leucosia can answer, the others—slowly, painfully, shuffling their way in—begin to cluster in around her, reaching to touch her if they can. There’s no malice in them, only longing. The song, she realizes. The Siren song has caught their attention, what little of it they still have. Maybe they understand what she’s done to what should have been another Kelpie pair and maybe they don’t, but they have so little beauty in their lives. They want to hear her. They want her to sing.

So she does.

It takes time to work through the pairs one by one, but Doll Girl will give them each the respect of a personal farewell, one final moment where they can be seen. If nothing else, they will have at least one person to mourn them. Dust builds up on her fingertips, and little by little the soft cries and wails that replaced the screams begin to lessen. There are other pairs that make her hesitate and flinch—the skinny grey Imp pair, the dying Classified that looks so like Ahte’s Imp form, give her a particularly bad moment—but she grits her teeth and goes on. In each song, along with the notes that will bring a quiet and peaceful passing, she adds in notes that sing farewell, a gentle fluting line that whispers you matter, a final soft vibrating note that promises I’ll remember.

It’s all she can do for them.

At last, she comes to the only pair left. She’s left them until last mostly because she can’t bear to look at them with her failure as a sister, as a caretaker, still so fresh in her mind. The Bonded looks much like the others had. They’ve all looked like that: grey, skeletal, twisted versions of what might have been humanoid once. But the Classified…

“Ah, Minerva,” she says, and her voice feels oddly raw around the name, “did you know? Did he know?”

It’s a Centaur, not a Kentauride, but it’s close enough to hurt. The head hangs at an odd angle, not quite as though the neck is broken, but close. The flesh where human meets horse has been chewed at, showing brown smudges that might have been blood if these creatures were truly alive. Bits of the fur stick up, showing where bugs have burrowed under the skin. Under the dust, perhaps the coat was once brown. It’s hard to tell now.

The Bonded’s bony fingers paw gently at her ankle. Her eyes sting. She tells herself it’s the dust.

She sings.

Once the Centaur Classified collapses, Doll Girl falls quiet, the echoing silence taunting her. She has to go, she tells herself. There’s nothing left here for her. It’s over. None of that would make her move, but the next thought does: the others need her. She has to tell them what needs to happen next and see them safely to the docks. With a deep breath, she turns to the door and walks out, Leucosia still at her side. The door swings closed behind her.

And the basement room is silent as the grave.

If it seems I am suddenly writing a horror novel, that’s because it appears I am. Oops?

Tag list: @falling--in--place, @lazywritergirl, @lady-redshield-writes, @toboldlywrite, @thewriteblrchronicles. Let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged!

#Silencia writes #camp nano 2018 #WIP boost #snippet saturdays #snippet #story: Classifieds #character: Doll Girl

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