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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA

It's curious.

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is.

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos.

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

And yes, you tried to slip by for this one.

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye.

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?"

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but—

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut.

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit."

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?"

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information.

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.”

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.”

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting.

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.”

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height.

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces.

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed."

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder.

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well.

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me."

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts.

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this?

This is too good.

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions."

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that."

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride.

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest.

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you."

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left.

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet.

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss.

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this.

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything.

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin.

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water.

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this?

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—”

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name.

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.”

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it.

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.”

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones.

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate.

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part.

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.”

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.”

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away.

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit.

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly—

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands.

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here.

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.”

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him.

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.”

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages.

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin.

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever.

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

#we out here #yeehaw #my writing #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #ct-7567 #captai rex #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sw

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criminalminds4days · 4 years

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Family Matters: Prologue

As promised, here is the prologue for the series.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, violence and murder reference, public embarrassment, and very bad jokes!

Word Count: 3.2k

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Tag list: @mcntsee @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @evelyncade @haylaansmi @paulaern @myfandomlife-blog

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(This gif is not mine)

Prologue: Get It Together!

She was gonna do it. Yes, of course, she was. She had finished college, gotten a doctorate, taken down an armed serial killer, been held hostage and now she worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, one of the most exclusive and hard to join teams in the FBI, so of course she could do this! Yet here she was, breathing heavily as she tried to press the button, it was now or never.

Maybe never?

No! She couldn't be afraid anymore, she had to do it. She was twenty-eight years old, she couldn't just... But what if her age was the reason this was pathetic? No! She had to do it, she had to do it. There was no turning back, if her family found out about this she would be humiliated (yet again). She couldn’t just say that at her age she had fallen so low. She had to cover it up, there was no other way. But what if they found out anyway? No, she couldn’t allow such a thing.

Breathe.

"Are you okay?" The voice of her coworker made her jump and almost drop her phone. She locked the screen and turned to look at him. He seemed confused at her reaction, but she simply fixed her hair as if it was any other Monday and what she was doing was perfectly normal.

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine." He pointed out. That was Spencer Reid, always kind, always honest. His brown hair was a curly mess and his brown eyes stared at her intently as he fixed his navy tie, he was wearing a white dress shirt and grey dress pants, definitely not the attire she imagined ever seeing from the sweater-loving resident genius at the BAU, however, she resisted the urge to comment, instead focusing on the issue at hand.

"Thank you, what all girl wants to hear." She debated whether it was worth telling him or not. While she and the other Doctor on the team weren’t necessarily good friends, being held hostage together and taking a beating to prevent him from being killed creates a certain bond between people, so she decided to attempt and share her situation. “I was trying to... Ugh, this is so embarrassing." She placed her head in her hands, lamenting every second of her miserable life.

"I don't know, maybe if you tell me it'll be less embarrassing?" He asked.

He was trying to be helpful; she knew he was, and she appreciated that more than anything, but it was hard to share how low she had fallen despite her age and position. She knew if someone would listen and not make fun of her it would be the man sitting at the desk across from hers, but she just couldn’t phantom saying it out loud. Then again, he was a genius, and he was not known for his successful love life, so maybe, just maybe he would understand the situation better?

"I accidentally told my annoying cousin that I was dating someone and now I have to bring my boyfriend to her stupid wedding."

"So? How is that embarrassing?"

"I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Why did you say you did? How do you accidentally tell someone you have a boyfriend when you don't?" She knew he wasn't making fun of her, that he was genuinely perplexed, but that knowledge didn't help subside her irritation.

"I only said it because she kept ranting about how I was gonna die alone and she was better than me..." She looked at him, his brow raised. "Okay, maybe she didn't say it exactly like that, but the intention was clear!" She cleared hair out of her face and continued, "Anyway, because I clearly do not have a significant other, I thought that if I hired someone to be my boyfriend during the wedding, it might be less painful?"

"You decided that the best way to solve your problem, of lying to your annoying cousin about your love life was hiring a fake boyfriend?" She looked at him, and a small smile played on his lips. "How does that make sense?"

"It doesn't! But I'm out of options here and I don't know what to do!" Her leg started bouncing as she bit her lip. "The wedding is this weekend, and I will die before I admit I lied to bitchy Anna!"

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Spencer Reid, you have no idea how far I'll go to shut bitchy Anna up!"

"Who's bitchy Anna?" Another voice said as Emily Prentiss, a tall woman with clear skin and dark short hair made her way to them. She was wearing a white dress shirt with a matching black blazer and dress pants, her small heels making a click-clack noise as she walked. If only she could have the confidence and stamina of Emily Prentiss, she would not be in this mess. Though she couldn’t daydream of being the woman in front of them too much after hearing Spencer’s words.

"Her cousin to whom she lied about dating someone. Consequently forcing her to now look for a fake boyfriend for hire." Spencer spoke as if nothing was weird about the whole situation.

"Why don't you just take Reid? It's not like he has plans, right?" She suggested as an amused smile played on her lips.

She didn't even have time to be mad at the man for spilling out her most embarrassing secret like it was nothing, because Emily's words made her perk up. She turned to him and he quickly shook his head.

"No, there is no way. I hate weddings, and parties in general."

"You owe me!" She argued.

"What? I don't owe you anything!" He defended himself.

"Of course you do, you told Emily something I confided in you!"

"You didn't tell me I wasn't allowed to say anything!"

"Spencer, please, I will do anything you want in order to make bitchy Anna eat her words." She placed her most convincing puppy face and looked at him. This face never failed, on anybody. She had mastered the art at age five and from then on the only thing it couldn’t get her was a normal family. Actually, scratch that, it never really worked after she became ten and Anna had also mastered it, but she was hoping this would be an exception.

"No."

Well, she had already embarrassed herself enough, so what was more begging in the great scheme of things?

"Come on, it's not like I'm asking you to marry me! I'm just asking you to pretend to be in love with me for one day."

"Be careful, that's how a lot of love stories begin," Prentiss said teasingly as she winked at the pair.

"Come on, I will give you money, I will drive you to work for a month. Whatever you want, it's yours." She said, "and Prentiss, this is the real world, not some cheesy love story. Spencer and I are much too mature for those silly things."

"No, I'm mature enough to know better. You just offered anything I want on a silver platter so I can pretend to be your boyfriend at your cousin's wedding. Let that sink in for a minute." He said as his smile grew wider, an idea clearly appearing in his mind. "Let me see, how about, a whole year of rides to work and coffee, for 24 hours of being the fake love of my life."

"Deal." She stretched her hand to shake on it and he looked at her, slightly offended. "Sorry, I forgot. I will make sure to wash my hands more times than necessary and wear gloves all week because you do have to hold my hand during the wedding, couples do that."

"Real couples do that, and it's not very hygienic."

"Well, for Saturday we will be a fake real couple, so let that sink in for a minute." She said as she triumphantly left the scene. She was making her way to the elevator, until she remembered she couldn’t really leave as she had arrived only thirty minutes ago, and her shift was not over until five. She fixed her hair and walked back to her desk as if she hadn’t just embarrassed herself in front of two of her coworkers and continued her paperwork. She heard a laugh from Emily’s desk and didn’t even bother to look up. She had figured out her plan and now she just hoped it would not explode in her face, so a few laughs from her coworker were worth the trouble.

Truth be told, there was a much bigger reason she needed to have someone at the wedding, but Spencer and Emily didn't need to know that. They didn’t need to know why she was willing to feed Spencer Reid’s addiction to coffee and his hate for driving for a whole year rather than tell her cousin she was still single.

Before she knew it, the weekend had arrived and she was in her car, a two-door gray Scion she had very proudly named Matthew when she bought him last June, and she made her way to Spencer's complex. She waited for him in her car after letting him know she was outside. She took the time to look at her now straight hair and her barely visible make-up. She knew blue was Anna’s favorite color, as it was also hers, so she made sure to wear a turquoise dress for her wedding, this was going to be a productive night, for sure.

"Hello, darling." He said as he buckled his seat belt. He was wearing a black suit with a tie that matched her dress, provided by her. His hair was lazily pushed back, giving his fluffy curls volume. She wondered what it would be like to touch it? Spencer would never allow it; he loved his hair way too much.

"We are gonna have the time of our lives, babe." She winked at him and began driving to the venue.

Of course, Anna would use the same venue she had been wishing for her wedding because it wouldn't be Anna if she couldn't have absolutely everything she ever wanted and more. The woman didn't know how long ago this passive-aggressive feud between the two had begun but she'd be damned if she let her cousin beat her at it. She pulled Spencer by the arm gently as she made her way to their table, which was front and center, granting her cousin the ability to see who she had brought along.

"If it isn't my favorite cousin!" She exclaimed. The girl fought the urge to roll her eyes. "And who might this be?"

"Anna, this is my boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid. Babe, this is my cousin, Anna."

"Anna, newly Hemingway." She emphasized her last name. As she reached to stretch his hand, but he simply waved. "Pleasure." She said as she retracted her hand and looked him up and down. It was only natural for her to do such a thing. "So cousin, have you heard that the family retreat has a date?" She exclaimed with excitement. "It's in about two weeks. You two obviously coming, right?"

"We actually have a retreat, with our team from the Behavioral Analysis Unit." She said, already looking for a way out, Spencer nodded in agreement.

“What a shame,” Her cousin said with faked empathy. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with what happened two years ago, does it?”

She was out of words, of course she would bring it up. Because of that incident she had convinced her mother to not force her to go last year and it was definitely the reason she was not going this year either, but the fact that Anna knew that got to her. She was ready to go home and cry of embarrassment once again. She had done it. Anna had won with one single question.

“Actually, I didn’t want to say anything hon, because it was a surprise,” Spencer spoke for the first time. “Aaron Hotchner, our boss, said that if I could memorize the whole itinerary, which I obviously can thanks to my eidetic memory and IQ of 187, that I could simply share the notes with you and we can take the weekend off since we are his favorites anyway. I was planning on a much more romantic evening than some family retreat but if your cousin is so determined to have us go, we shall be there.” He smiled at the bride, his amusement not so subtle at her reaction.

“You found a keeper,” Anna said, moving some blonde strands of hair from her face. “Anyway, I have to say hello to some guests, but I will see you two lovebirds later.” Her white dress got caught under her heel making her cousin almost fall, but this last one continued as if nothing happened.

"Thank you." She said as she squeezed his hand gently, realizing they were still linked. A whole thirty minutes, that had to be a record for him.

"Don’t thank me, now I understand why you call her bitchy Anna.” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I will call the day of the retreat and say you came down with the flu or something.” She assured him.

“No, I am definitely coming.”

"What? Why would you want to do that?"

"Because," He began, "in the time I've known you I've never seen you let anyone walk over you, or make you feel less. Remember when we met?" She chuckled at the thought. "I didn't appreciate the public embarrassment, but I gained a lot of respect for you. It was hard watching you let her talk to you like that and make you feel less. You are not less." He assured her as he looked at her, sympathy in his eyes. "You are an amazing agent and friend. I bet you're a great daughter and a reliable family member. You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for. If it wasn't for you, we would have never survived that day, I will never forget that. So, I will go with you, and I will be the best boyfriend your family has ever seen, and bitchy Anna can suck it."

She laughed at his comment and he joined. Boy, was she glad Spencer was here with her. Even if they had never been the closest of friends, she valued his opinion, and she was glad it was such a positive one. She wished this was the beginning of an actual friendship between the two.

"Honey!" Her mother's voice interrupted her thoughts, as she approached them

"Oh no." She mumbled, confusing Spencer. "Babe, get ready. You're about to meet my mom." She apologized with her eyes and turned to the bubbly woman that approached them. "Hello, mother." She said as the dark-haired woman with tan skin and stiletto heels that should be illegal reached her, giving her a tight hug. Her red dress matched the infernal shoes and a necklace of pearls adorned her neck.

"Who might this handsome fella be?"

"Mom, this is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend. Spencer, this is my mother." Before he could say anything she was already squishing his cheeks followed by the woman planting a kiss on each side of his face. "You are handsome, I bet my grandchildren will be gorgeous!"

"Mom!" She exclaimed embarrassed.

"What? Don't tell me you're not planning on marrying this hunk? He's a keeper, I can tell."

"You also said that about Tyler." She regretted the comment instantly, the reason being that she didn't need anybody else to know of that embarrassing story.

"Yeah well, aren't you glad you aren't with him anymore?" She said as if public humiliation was something to appreciate. "So how long have you two been seeing each other?"

"Two years."

"A year." She responded as she heard Spencer answer at the same time. "He means that he's liked me for two years, but we only went on our first date a year ago, a year after my breakup with Tyler."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Oh, well. I always thought you would be Mrs. Tyler Hemingway, but Mrs. Spencer Reid sounds so much better!"

"It's doctor." They both corrected.

"Even better!" After that, she walked off without saying another word.

"That's your fake mother-in-law dude... She's something else." She sighed with relief at her mother's easily distracted personality.

"Did she say, Hemingway? As in-"

"Yes, as in my cousin's new husband." She cut him off. "The same one that two years ago told me in front of most of my family that he was in love with my cousin and left me heartbroken and humiliated. That same Tyler Hemingway."

"I'm sorry."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" She heard his voice call her and she immediately tensed, Spencer noticed this and moved towards her.

"I am also sorry for what I am about to do, but it will make sense soon." He said as he let go of her hand and grabbed her cheeks, pulling her for a kiss as her ex-boyfriend now turned cousin-in-law watched, perplexed.

When someone describes a fake kiss, it is usually romantic. First comes the surprise, and then immediate compliance, but she was so confused Spencer had to basically squish her cheeks to make her close her eyes and for her to realize what he was doing. She followed suit and kissed him back, still unable to form a coherent thought. It was not like Spencer Reid was a bad kisser, if she had to rate it, it would have been the best kisser she had ever encountered, but the situation that had created such a kiss did not provide for her enjoyment. Not that she wanted to enjoy it, this was her coworker turned accomplice and hopefully actual friend, not someone she was necessarily attracted to, even though she could admit that he was a handsome man. That was not something weird, even Jennifer Jareau, JJ, their friend, and coworker had said it once or twice. You can admit someone is handsome or beautiful without being attracted, everybody knew that.

The cough coming from Tyler Hemingway made Spencer let go of her, as soon as he did he winked at her and moved a strand of hair behind her ear, subtly stabilizing her and covering her shocked face until it dissipated.

“I thought you weren’t one for PDA,” The groom asked. His black tuxedo and white dress shirt made him look handsome, his black hair was pulled back and his blue eyes observed them intently.

“PDA?”

“Public Demonstration of Affection.” She clarified. “Tyler, have you seen this man next to me? How could I not want to kiss him every minute of the day.”

“And this woman has me craving for her touch.”

“Lovely.” The man responded with anything but love for them. “I just wanted to say hi and apologize, I hope you did not mind the venue Anna chose.”

“Me? Why would I mind?” She laughed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

She felt Spencer’s arms wrap around her waist from behind, even though she hadn't noticed he moved. His head rested on her shoulder, leaving small kisses on her cheeks. Who was this man and what did he do with Spencer Reid?

“I hope you do not take this the wrong way, but when she and I get married it would have to be a much larger venue, with a different layout. I mean, this venue is cute, but this beautiful woman could outshine it just in pajamas.” He smiled at the man and turned his attention to her. “I keep telling you love: stop thinking small, you are a queen among peasants and deserve nothing but the best. Anyone who can’t see the level of woman you are is simply an idiot.”

This was the moment she was ready to marry Spencer Reid and never let him go, just for the satisfaction of seeing Tyler’s face at his comment. She would forever be grateful to Emily Prentiss for suggesting she ask him.

#spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #cm

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Ghosting

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader but he’s dead 😔

Masterlist

“Do you have to go out tonight?” You pouted at Peter perched himself on the fire escape. He reached sour to hold your hand, but it wasn’t the same. The iron suit was safer and more intuitive, but it prevented you from feeling the warmth of your boyfriends hands.

“There was a robbery down on Bleeker street. I can get a better aerial view than the cops can.” Peter told you, giving your hand a squeeze. You frowned, not liking the idea of him getting involved so late at night.

“Was it an armed robbery?” You questioned, and his face told you everything you needed to know. You looked down but he tilted your chin up so you would look at him.

“My suit is bulletproof.” He reminded you and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“But your face isn’t.” You sighed. Peter could see the fear in your eyes and gave you an assuring smile.

“My mask will be on. I can’t risk anything happening to this.” He gestured to his face and shot you a wink, making you laugh lightly.

“Are you sure?” You worried. “I thought you were still having troubles with your suit. What if the mask comes off again?”

“That hasn’t happened in weeks. I’ll be fine, baby. Don’t you worry that pretty little head.” Peter pulled you in for another kiss, letting it linger this time.

“I can’t help it. I love you too much.” You smiled sadly as he rested his forehead against yours. Peter chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love you even more. I’ll be home in an hour. Two, tops. Then I’m all yours. Sound good?” He asked you as he prepared to leave.

“Sounds good.” You said reluctantly. “Be safe.”

“Don’t you know who you’re talking to? I’m Spiderman, baby. I’m always safe.” He winked at you again, making you roll your eyes this time. His mask enveloped his face and he gave you a wave.

“I love you.” You called after him as he swung away.

“Love you.” He yelled into the night.

The sound of a gunshot woke you out of your sleep. An ice cold sweat adhered your shirt to your skin, making you throw the covers off. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about the last time you saw Peter. That dream had been plaguing you for the past six years. You always knew what was coming. And you always woke up in a cold sweat with a rock in your stomach. You put a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries and turned to face the wall. Your body shook as silent sobs escaped your lips. It wasn’t long before you heard your boyfriend stir and sit up beside you.

“What’s wrong?” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He was used to this, being woken up by your crying. He could usually tune it out, and did, but tonight pushed him a little too far. It was the third time that week he’d heard you crying over Peter. He wasn’t gonna tune it out anymore.

“Nothing. Go back to bed.” You tried to keep your voice steady as you wiped your face on your sleeve.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He said, voice tired but not from lack of sleep.

“I’m fine, Nick.” You repeated, trying to hold back tears so he wouldn’t get suspicious. You shifted your head on the damp pillowcase to hide the wet spot in case he turned on the lights. All your efforts were pointless. He already heard. He always heard, and you knew that it broke his heart every time.

“Is it gonna be like this every night?” He snapped and turned the bedside lamp on. You sat up and plastered a fake smile on your face.

“No.” You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “I said I’m fine. Just go back to sleep.

“I can’t. I can’t sleep.” Nick yelled, throwing the covers off of himself to get out of bed. You jumped a little at his tone and held the blankets close to your body. “Not when you’re crying right beside me over another man. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that you’d rather be with someone else?” He pointed an accusing finger at you and your lip began to tremble. Not from fear, but from anger.

“He’s dead!” You shouted as tears stung your eyes. “So what if I’m crying over him? It’s not like I can be with him. He just comes and visits me when I’m dreaming every now and then.”

“You still love him.” Nick put his hands on his hips and looked at your tearfully. “You still love him and you wish you were with him instead of me.”

“That’s not true. I love you and I want us to be together. But when you act like this,” your voice broke, “then yeah, I wish I were still with him.”

Nick stares at you for a moment, silent tears running down his face. In the year you’d been together, you’d never seen him cry. You didn’t even know he was capable. It frightened you to see him like this.

“How are we supposed to be together when you are still in love with your ex? It’s been 6 years, Y/n. You need to move on.” He said through gritted teeth. Any remorse you felt for him melted into anger.

“I have moved on.” You declared. “I said yes to your date, to your advances, to moving in with you, to everything! But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss him.” You cried and he let out a humorless laugh.

“Miss him? You’re still in love with him!” He shouted at you. “I can’t keep living in his shadow. I can’t spend the rest of my life with a woman who would rather be with a pile of dust.”

“How dare you?” You said gravely, seething with anger. Your eyes flickered to the urn on your desk where you kept Peters ashes before they farted back to Nick.

“How dare I? How dare you?” He bellowed. “You’re lying to the both of us every time you say you love me.”

“That’s not true!” You protested.

“If he came back tomorrow, who would you pick?” Nick asked, suddenly calm. “Who’s arms would you run into? His or mine?”

His anger was gone, and now he just looked upset. He wiped his face with his hands as he waited for an answer.

“His.” You muttered and he nodded his head, looking up at the ceiling to avoid your guilt ridden eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” He sucked his teeth and turned his back to you. You went around the bed to get closer, still keeping a short distance between the two of you.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” You said quietly. “You have been so understanding about this our entire relationship but you pick tonight to explode on me? I know I’ve put you through more than anyone should have to go through, but you have to understand why.”

Nick slowly turned around and sized you up.

“So tell me. Why?” He shrugged and clasped his hands together.

“Because loved him, and he loved me.” You smiled as crystal clear tears ran down your face. “I thought I was gonna be with him for the rest of my life. But that didn’t happen. So I’m sorry if I have a little baggage after the love of my life died, but this hasn’t been easy for me either.”

Nick glared at you, anger pooling into his light green eyes.

“You did it again.” He shook his head. “You called him the love of your life. What am I?”

“You’re my boyfriend. And you aren’t being fair. You think I don’t know how much it hurts you when I talk about him? You think I can’t see the look on your face when I bring him up? Or when I have lunch dates with his aunt? But you would never admit that to me. You didn’t want to admit that it hurt you. So how can you yell at me now? I’ve been crying over him nearly every night since we started going out. What makes tonight so special? Why does it upset you now?” You asked him desperately. He looked at you blanks, embarrassed that you saw through his coverup.

“I guess I just decided that I had enough.” He said lowly, eyes tearing into you. There was something animalistic about his gaze that made your pulse quicken.

“Maybe I’ve had enough too.” You whispered, eyes trailing from Nicks face to Peters urn. The way the moonlight was coming in through the window gave it an appearance that it was glowing. You smiled for a moment, almost being able to feel his touch on your now.

“I think it’s time we call it quits.” Nick swallowed and you nodded.

“I think so too.” You gave him an apologetic smile that he wanted no part of. He brushed past you and opened the closet, beginning to take his clothes out and set them on the bed.

“Nick, please. You don’t have to leave. This is your apartment. I’ll go.” You offered when he began to transfer his clothes into a suitcase.

“Don’t bother. I hate this apartment. And I hate that thing staring at me every night.” He said as he pointed at the urn. You silently watched him pack his clothes, making no further attempts to stop him. He raised the handle of his suit case and approached you, solemn look in his eyes.

“Just so you know, anybody else wouldn’t have lasted a day in this relationship. I tried to stick it out, but you just won’t change.” He said bitterly. You stepped aside so he could reach the door, but grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I love him.” You said and Nick looked away. “And you’re right, that’s never going to change.”

Nicks gaze returned to you and you could almost see hesitation in his eyes. You thought he might accept your apology until his eyes shifted to Peters urn. He swallowed and looked back at you, having made up his mind.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my things.” He said, and left the room, taking the remains of your relationship with him.

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #ripeter #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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jamaiskookie · 4 years

Text

bangtan headcanon: OT7 IN HIGH SCHOOL 📓✂️

☞ genre; fluff, crack

☞ warnings; excessively stupid

masterlist u wanna talk to highschool!bangtan?

《KIM SEOKJIN》

class clown

always manages to sneak kimbap in class, and stuffs his face despite being in the front row.

he’s alarmingly good at sneaking food into places.

cafeteria ladies love jin so much.

and every christmas he brings in his perfected sugar cookies and never shares them.

(he’s in the cooking club)

((he’s the only one in the cooking club))

will interrupt the teacher to make a bad joke.

“yes so helium is the fo- oh yes seokjin?“

“i was reading an excellent book about helium, i couldn’t put it down!! ahHAHAHHYUKHYUKAHHAHAHHA“

nobody’s?? really sure?? if he’s dating namjoon or not?? it’s the schools biggest mystery, there’s currently a betting pool going on worth about $500

likes to annoy namjoon and yoongi about holding bake sales.

is surprisingly good at planning parties?? but never hosts them?? hoseok always gets him to plan his parties and he even planned prom!!

he’s particularly proud with the theme he came up with.

‘zombie meets elegance‘

it was actually pretty nicely pulled off (much to the shock of the entire student body)

《MIN YOONGI》

student council president

takes his job very!! seriously!!

fights with the principal on funding daily.

doesn’t come to school without coffee and resting bitch face.

even the teachers are afraid of this short little emo boy.

is the only one who actually wears the school uniform properly with the little tie and jacket because that’s how you show school spirit.

definitely that closeted gay in high school who thinks nobody knows about his homosexuality when in fact, everyone knows.

(nobody has the guts to bring it up to him though)

“hyung why are you staring at jimin’s as-“

“-NO WHY GET BACK TO WORK”

actually enjoys doing morning announcements.

“make sure to check out jin’s dumb bake sale i think he’s selling brownies for some charitable reason anYWAYS time for min’s advice column!!“

min’s advice column is yoongi’s free therapy. namjoon suggested adding an advice column to the school paper so now yoongi just judges his classmates’s decisions gives subpar advice.

“i personally think you have no chance with this girl, but you’re clearly hell bent on asking her out. it’s a dumb choice. good luck.“

《JUNG HOSEOK》

fuckboy

throws obnoxious parties at his parent’s huge ass mansion.

somehow?? is?? the nicest? playboy??? evER??

will respect your girl’s boundaries but also would 300% hit on her when you’re not looking.

aftercare king wILL cuddle with you and help you clean up or whatever until jimin eventually comes in screaming.

his school id says “hobi 💦👅” ... noone knows how he managed to do it (taehyung thinks he seduced the secretary)

surprisingly good at romance even though he deTests dating

“it’s a waste of time, money, and ass.“ “- what?”

gives everyone dating advice whether they want it or nOt- he lives his *shhh very secret* romantic fantasies through his best friends.

once helped taehyung ask out his girlfriend... they’re still going strong!!

defo has daddy issues that he never talks about,, maybe if a girl finds it sexc™️ in that kind of messed-up-bad-boy-she-could-fix vibe he’ll bring it up

kinda failing science lmao he probably needs a tutor.. but will never admit he needs a tutor for sake of his pride.

most definitely has had sex in the janitor’s closet a couple times, up until yoongi caught him once, reported him to the school board and got him suspended... for a month.

(yoongi has no regrets, that was the best month of his life.)

《KIM NAMJOON》

student vice president

honestly would probably be the council president and is the most qualified for it but can’t be bothered.

plus he hates public speaking and the president has to speak at assemblies.

genuinely enjoys learning!! bUT HATES GROUP PROJECTS

because every single fucking time taehyung and jimin pester him about teaming up and he ends up doing like 75% of the work.

not because anyone forces him to or anything.

it’s because jimin and tae are such dumbasses every time they finish their work namjoon has a sudden uRGE TO REDO ALL OF IT BC THEY GOT IT WRONG.

tries to take all AP subjects.

gives up and drops half of them by the second semester.

great student but also will “no yoongi i don’t want to fucking play basketball i've been awake for thirty hours trying to finish this goddamn essay that’s due tomorrow. wHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY DIDN’T I DO IT EARLIER I WAS BUSY TAKING CARE OF MY BONSAI TREES.“

started the school paper!! it’s called “persona post”

writes about actual relevant things like political events and global problems, but everyone else just writes about school gossip *sigh*

although that one column examining hobi’s sex and dating life was a pretty fun piece of writing to read through.

he sits in the back of the classroom and never raises his hand even though he knows the answer like 95% of the time.

definitely has a crush on seokjin

《PARK JIMIN》

the one everyone has a crush on

and when i say everyone i mean everyone, even hoseok has had a crisis over park jimin.

(jungkook is definitely president of his fan club) ((in case it wasn’t clear, he’s dating jungkook))

school’s golden boy, basically gets away with everything with a bat of an eye... and the most infuriating thing is he doesn’t even realise it.

“omg jimin!! you’re so cute!! this shirt looks sO good on you, can i touCH?” “omg thank you i didn’t think it fit well because it’s my boyfriends but that’s so sweet!!” “boy... hm?”

mom friend: sweetest bitch alive and is always worrying about his friends but everyone knows he’s secretly really fucking kinky.

(again, jungkook has no comment)

the kind of person who celebrates christmas in june.

literally- he starts putting decorations in his locker and around the school mid june. by november, he’s wearing reindeer ears to school.

*lowkey kind of a nerd* genuinely enjoys studying with namjoon.

“well, studying with anybody else is just too stressful!! plus, namjoon’s so chill. he doesn’t look like it but he actually is super sweet and nice!!!“

“... please take those reindeer ears off, it’s embarrassing.“

half of the school would probably cut off an arm to sleep with him. seriously, he gets offers like everYDAY it’s kinda getting tiRING

is considering starting a youtube channel where he just takes videos of all the dogs and babies he meets throughout the day.

“idk i think vlogging would be fun“

《KIM TAEHYUNG》

art hoe

nEVER FUCKING STUDIES OR PAYS ATTENTION BUT GETS DECENT GRADES.

the definition of bisexual mess, WILL trip when he sees hot people.

exclusively wears wired gold glasses and soft neutral sweaters to school. if it’s a good day he’ll wear a beanie. on special occasions he’ll maybe throw in some fUN loafers.

dyes his hair to match ~the vibes~ of that season. the most recent wild hair colour is cool toned teal.

jungkook said he looks like leprechaun shit, but tae really likes it.

tried to go vegan countless times, failed each and every one when he passed by a mc donalds.

carries his sketchbook wherever he goes. he has that thing around 24/7, 100% would not be surprised if he slept with it under his pillow.

really quiet until he has a point to make;; like that time where he launched into a three hour screaming lecture on how phineas and ferb is an animated masterpiece.

drinks tea purely for the aesthetic of it.

goes to hipster coffee shops to pretend to study... ends up watching barbie movies and critiquing them on the writing blog that he thinks nobody knows about.

watches anime in class (he recently rewatched all of ATLA for the third time,, failed his econ class but worth it!!1!!1)

《JEON JUNGKOOK》

preppy jock

once again, everyone is attracted to him, but he’s so whipped for jimin everyone’s crush fades away once they talk to him because-

“oh it’s so cool that you have a dog!! you know, i think jimin kind of looks like a pomeranian sometimes it’s sO CUTE- hm? oh jimin’s my boyfriend.“

... it’s disgustingly adorable.

plays almost every sport and is somehow always the team captain. not out of obligation or with leadership skills or anything, everyone else just votes for him.

mess with his friends and he’ll put a stink bomb in your locker.

his nickname is “golden baby” because he’s good at everything, teachers love him so much.

grades? sTELLAR. sports? he’s done them ALL. creativity? pAINTED THE SCHOOL MURAL. service? volunteers at a pet shelter whenever he can (the bunnies love him for some reason)

everyone either is

a) in love w him, wants to fuck

b) jealous of him but is also secretly gay for him

pretends to not know how talented and cool he is and plays it off super cool

proceeds to fail, the only thing he’s bad at is humble bragging.

“wow omg lol i got a 100 on my bio test and yesterday i got a hole in one in golf, my first time playing it but it’s chill i guess hahhah day in my life amirite.“

**this headcanon is the start of the bangtan school series, stay tuned**

wanna be tagged in school series or my writing? here or send me an ask

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fortisfiliae · 5 years

Text

Promised Part 2 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness, bullying

Word count: 1.7k

Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, you loved being back there, how the old stone walls made you feel warm, even if they were so cold. You loved to see your friends again and tell them everything you had done during summer holidays.

But this time, after leaving your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone knew already. Every time someone looked at you, it felt like they were judging you.

How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps.

No one had really said anything yet and you weren’t sure if people had always looked at you like that, or if you just interpreted something into it, but you were quite sure they knew.

Girls from fifth grade had always greeted you and had looked up to you, trying to impress you and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though you could feel them staring at you from behind. They would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other after you had passed them.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She had been your best friend since the first year of Hogwarts and was the most loyal person you knew. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, when the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. She was shocked, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year. I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, looks like you’re going to marry him. Do you like him? In any way?”

“I… Don’t know. I don’t really know him. He seems to really take after his grandfather.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. I mean we’ll have to get along someday.”

“Good idea. You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him really.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know how to talk to boys,” she snickered. “Maybe he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. He must have mastered the arts of ignoring someone because you felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing.

How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? He left you clueless.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt. A Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to say the least. Maybe he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet.

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced?

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Freak,” you said and rushed out of the great hall.

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Avery and Lestrange were the worst of them. They were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, you could tell how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

You had made it a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends.

This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he ask you the most boring things, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer.

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice.

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that.

“None of your business,” you answered.

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your friend. Or should I say your leader?”

They both blushed and you could tell they were embarrassed. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they apparently didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered: “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you quickly.

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty

Words: 3.1K

Warning(s): Explicit language, substance abuse, verbal abuse

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My dad always used to tell me, "wisdom is being young enough to get away with doing something stupid, but still knowing better."

I never paid any attention to it because I didn't have any stupid decisions lined up at the age of eight. Or thirteen. Or sixteen...I guess because I never experienced the art of bad decision making and their damnable consequences, all of that pent up stupidity broke loose when I was seventeen and didn't slow down until I was in my thirties.

Young enough to get away with doing something stupid…

"What the hell are you thinking, Duff?" His older brother yells.

I'm listening with my ear pressed to the door, waiting in the hallway outside of Duff's apartment...trying not to be too mortifiedly embarrassed.

"Matt, it's—"

"—You're fooling around with a married woman, Duff, I know exactly what it is!" He yells.

"They're getting divorced, Matt, alright? It's not like I'm-I'm just sleeping with her for the hell of it!"

"She's getting out of a six year relationship and getting a divorce at twenty-three, Duff, don't you fucking think the reasonable thing for you to do is back off and let her actually process that before having sex with her?!"

"It's not like I'm taking advantage of her! I'm not! She loves me—"

"—She's lost! She's vulnerable! She's confused! She'd fall in love with any bone head that was a good guy right now!" He shouts at him. "What are you thinking, Duff? I mean, honestly, what the hell are you fucking thinking?"

"I-I don't know!"

"What the fuck happens if the media gets ahold of this? If mom finds out that her son is getting hot n' heavy in cars in dark parking lots with a married girl!"

It's quiet for a second.

"I would explain that they're getting divorced, and—"

"—Bullshit. You know what she'd say? 'Married is married until divorce is finalized'." He states.

"I think mom would be pretty understanding, Matt. I don't think she'd judge me like you are or try to talk me out of it."

"You sound like dad right now, you know that? Just fucking like him." He cuts. "And it's bullshit because I know you aren't anything like dad which is why I'm so stumped right now."

"It's not that big of a deal." Duff argues.

"Has she filed yet?" Matt asks next, not skipping a beat.

"W-What?"

"Has he filed yet? Have they filed yet?"

"I don't know—it's not my fucking business."

"So you're just sleeping with her and you don't even know if they're even splitting up at this point? Of course not because she probably doesn't even know what she wants!"

"She told me she's gonna divorce him." Duff tells him, certainty in his tone.

"Well, actions speak a hell of a lot louder than words, don't they?" Matt fires at him.

...but still knowing better.

The door opens quickly and I pretend I wasn't listening, taking a few steps back as Matt storms out, giving me a second glance before walking down the hallway to the stairs.

I peek into the apartment to see Duff pacing, not paying any attention to me still being out here.

I take a breath before heading after him.

"Matt," I say when I get to the parking lot as he goes to his car, "wait."

"You don't owe me an explanation about it, sweetheart, it's between me and my brother." He tells me calmly, getting into his car.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask him, catching my breath, before he can close the door.

He looks at me for a second.

"Do you? Or a wife or a boyfriend or something?"

"I have a girlfriend." He tells me.

"How long have you been with your girlfriend?"

"Like, almost a year, now." He replies, not seeing the point of telling me this.

"I bet you're really good to your girlfriend, Matt." I say, and he slowly catches on, sighing a little.

"I try to be."

"Nikki wasn't good to me. For years. While he was killing himself with drugs, he was killing me with how he treated me and how he acted and when you really love somebody you sit and make excuses for them to make however they're killing you seem justified, and it's not. It never is." I explain, a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. "And you don't realize it until one day you're watching a woman you loved and trusted tell the world she's been having an affair with your husband. And then those rose lenses shatter and it's clear. You've spent years of your life giving everything to someone who would probably trade you for an ounce of smack if he ran out." I sniffle. "I really loved him, and you're right, I do still love him. I do. But I also know I'd rather die than willingly throw myself back into that hell. I haven't filed yet, but I am going to when he gets back from Japan. And I do love Duff, and he's a very, very good man. I don't know the situation with you guys' father and it's not my business, but whoever and whatever your dad is...your brother is the farthest thing from it. And I know you are, too, just from the way Duff's always spoke of you and your siblings. I'm sorry for the trouble, and I know you're just trying to look out for him, but you need to be proud of him. Not for what you saw earlier, but just for the fact he's a really great person in a city filled with selfish pricks. You need to be proud of him, and he needs to hear that you're proud of him."

He lets out another breath, processing what I'm saying, nodding again.

"Have a good night." He mumbles to me, shutting the door, and I let out a breath and head back upstairs, seeing Duff stopped pacing and eventually just plopped onto the couch.

He looks at me when I come back in, his eyes sad, a solemn look on his face.

"I'm sorry if you heard any of that." He says to me and I sit down on the couch beside him.

"It's okay. He's just trying to look out for you, you know?"

"I know but he doesn't even know the half of it." He sighs. "And I'm not acting like my dad because if I were I'd be sleeping with anything in a skirt and leaving my wife to deal with my eight kids.

He tells me lowly, hurt in his voice.

I try to find the humor in it, nudging his side.

"You have a wife and eight kids?" I ask, smiling a little and he looks at me, his lips tugging at the corners.

"No," his lips crack the smallest of smiles for a moment, "but even if I did I wouldn't treat them like shit." He adds.

My hand comes up to discreetly brush against my stomach.

"Your brother just wants the best for you." I tell him.

"Who cares? It's not his or anybody else's business." He replies, leaning back, rubbing his forehead.

"I love you." I offer, hoping the words make him relax a little.

He huffs out a breath, finally looking at me, his hand grabbing mine, pressing it to his lips.

I did love him, just not the way I thought I did. I mean, when I was in love with Nikki, it was evident to everybody. I looked at him like I worshipped the ground he walked on—because I nearly did. With Duff, people had to ask me whether I really loved him or not. I always thought it was because we were moving so fast that it seemed abnormal, but in photos when Duff and I were together it was obvious he and I had no fucking clue what we were doing. We were happy with each other, and loved each other, but it was like we both subconsciously knew we weren't going to workout. At least we eventually accepted it.

I could've divorced Nikki, eventually married Duff, anyway, and made the same bizarre decision that Tansy and Axl made to divorce twice before finally getting married a third time, years later, when their shit was together—because even if Duff and I did get married, we wouldn't have made it through the early 90s.

A couple mornings later, I'm going back to my house since the coast is clear from Nikki since he left for Japan.

Checking the mail, I furrow my brows as I'm sorting through the bills, randomly seeing an envelope with my name on it.

I take the mail inside and open my letter.

"What the hell?" I mumble, looking at a couple hundred dollar bills.

Then it hits me.

"Hello?" Karen's voice on the other end of the phone, chipper as ever.

"Why the hell am I getting sketchy money from Elektra?" I ask.

"It's from 'Wild Side', Viv." She explains. "Because Nikki credited you as one of the writers, remember? They couldn't write you a check because it's under the table." She adds.

"Under the table?"

"To avoid—"

"—Well, I don't want it." I state.

"Viv, you're getting a divorce. I'd keep every dime I could, honestly." She advises.

"Karen, that's no…" I trail off, my mind running a mile a minute, piecing it together. "What time is it in Japan?"

"Uhm, like, 2:00a.m. maybe?"

"Where are they staying?"

"Vivian—"

"—I need to talk to Doc. Where are they staying?"

I didn't want to talk to Doc. Don't ask me how I managed to harass my estranged husband from 16 time zones away, but, I did.

"You knew you were gonna divorce me, you piece of shit, that's why you credited me so I'd get money to cover divorce court!" I accuse viciously.

"I don't fuckin' know what you've been smoking, Vivian, but you sound insane right now!" He fires back.

"What I've been smoking? What the fuck have you been smoking, Nikki?! Huh?!"

"Have you been sleeping, Vivian?! You're being fucking psychotic!"

"I'll get on a flight and show you fucking psychotic, asshole, you set me up and then left the fucking country!"

"I credited you as a joke—I didn't think they'd actually take it serious and send you part of the royalties!"

"Bullshit! You and Vanity planned for her to tell everybody about your bullshit with each other, knowing I'd leave you and file for divorce so you could be together!"

"If I was that fucking mean, Vivian, I wouldn't have credited you so you wouldn't have gotten paid shit, you crazy bitch!" He insists. "And take your goddamn medication!"

He hangs up and I roll my jaw before throwing the phone.

I could've killed him had I felt like flying to Japan.

"Then he tells me I'm being psychotic!" I vent to Izzy over the sound of the vacuum.

"Well, were you?!" He asks me and I cut the vacuum off.

"No, I wasn't. I just called him out on his bullshit because he loves to think I'm stupid."

"What exactly did you say to him?"

"That he credited me so I'd get money, that I'd probably put toward paying for a divorce."

"That's not too bad." He furrows his brows a little.

"Exactly. Not to mention the fact I know he's still seeing Vanity and the whole plan was to tell the world they were engaged, knowing I'd leave him, so they could finally publicly be together."

He looks at me funny, before asking, "d-did you tell him that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, you lost me, Viv."

"What?"

"That's complete bullshit." He states.

"How?"

"How? Viv, the man is on a horse-sized dose of heroin on a daily basis—and the crack he would smoke with Vanity—do you think either of them had the energy or mental compacity to conduct a plan like that?"

"They had the energy to fuck each other, so, my perception of how much they were able to do under the influence has no limits at this point." I argue.

"I think pregnancy has you cuckoo for cocoa puffs." He mumbles.

"Izzy, I'm being serious." I hiss.

"I am, too, Viv." He tells me. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be a complete asshole, but I just don't see Nikki high as a fucking kite coming up with this elaborate plan to leave you so he can be with his side piece while simultaneously deciding he wants you to be financially stable enough to withstand a divorce. He's a mean fucker. If he wanted to leave you, he would tell you to fuck off and file the same day without giving a flat fuck if you could afford it or not." He says. "And he's not seeing Vanity. There's no way she'd keep her mouth shut if they were still together."

"She managed to keep her mouth shut about it for over a year." I grumble.

"Yeah, because she was probably hoping he'd leave you for her."

I stop what I'm doing and look at him.

"Do you think he would've if she didn't tell everybody about it?" I ask next.

"I don't know, Viv." He answers honestly.

"Would you?"

He glances at me, serious for a moment, before the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

"Never in a million years." He says and I smile a little. "Would you leave me for Duff?"

I pretend to think for a second.

"Depends on who's better in bed." I reply with the response I expected from him and he just blinks at me.

"Fuck you." He says and I laugh, eventually getting quiet, really thinking about what I said the last time we spoke.

"I'm not gonna do that to Duff." I say to him and he just looks off for a second.

"What made you change your mind?"

"He really loves me, Izzy."

"Yeah, he does." He shifts on his feet.

"Do you think...like, if him and me stay together…" I don't have to finish it, he already knows where I'm going.

"I think it'll be great for the first several months because it always is." Izzy replies. "But once the new wears off and things get more clear…"

"...Yeah."

NIKKI

"Jesus fucking Christ."

I beat the phone against the wall so the crazy bitch can't call here again.

"Two o'clock in the morning and she's making a long distance call just to gnaw my balls over something I didn't even fucking do? And bringing Vanity back up? What the fuck's her problem?

So, she got money for her credit, oh well. Plenty of people wouldn't necessarily mind seeing a couple hundred dollars for them in their mailbox but of course her ungrateful ass can't even be thankful for it." I hiss to myself pacing my room. "Cunt." I add, grabbing my bottle of wine from the TV stand, taking a big swig of it.

"Fuck her." I state next. "Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her...fuck," I take my wedding band off and throw it at hard at I can at the mirror in the corner of the room, on the wall, "her!" I yell when it makes impact, taking a step back, and another, falling flat on my ass.

I don't have the energy to get up, laying on my back and staring at the ceiling.

Just like my dad.

Just like my mom.

She just fucking left me...and I made her.

"Fuck her." I refuse to admit aloud it's my fault because it's not.

Sure, I fucked Vanity, I cheated on her first, but that doesn't give her the excuse to do the same to me.

"Fuck her." I repeat again.

I kept trying to convince myself I hated her. The truth was I hated myself, and was just trying to get that frustration out by turning on her.

It was easy to do when I imagined her under Duff while I was across the world, suffering, telling myself repeatedly she didn't give a shit about me.

She was probably thinking of me under a random groupie the entire time I was gone, and I don't blame her. I stayed under random groupies any other time, so why would Japan be any different? Especially after she and I were separated and had no obligations to each other.

I didn't have sex in Japan, honestly. I couldn't. I was too fucked up. I would try to, but it just wouldn't go over too well. My body was give out from abuse, my hands were scabbed from picking, my skin ate up with track marks, my face was sallow.

Fans would tell me they were worried I had the flu and I'd laugh it off and promise I was okay, then go to my room and stay locked in there until I absolutely had to leave.

I was on smack, constantly, to the point I wasn't even high but just shooting smack as maintenance, which served as a good excuse when a big magazine reporter came to Japan to talk to me and the guys about the tour and when the topic of Vanity came up…

I try to keep from rolling my jaw as the loser starts his question cautiously, testing the waters to see if I'm going to cut him off and tell him to ask another question or fuck off, or if I'm okay with it.

I remember Vivian's bullshit idea about me and Vanity wanting her to find out about the affair so she'd leave and we could be together.

Why the fuck would I go through that much shit just to be with someone like Vanity?

Leaving Vivian to be with Vanity is like leaving the frying pan to hop into the fire dick-first.

With this in mind as, "so, who is she to you?" finally leaves his mouth in reference to Vanity, pen in hand, ready to jot my answer and spread it around America the second it leave my lips, I pretend to think for a moment, and finally reply, "she was my fiancée."

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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mageicalwishes · 4 years

Text

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen & Up

Chapter: 1/? (More chapters to come a little later in Dec + Early Jan!)

Summary: A loose crossover between Carry On and parts of I'll Give You The Sun. "He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured."

Carry On Countdown, Day 10 - Crossover @carryon-countdown

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, Social Anxiety, Crossover, Pining Baz, Artist Baz, Space Enthusiast Simon, Star Gazing, Anxious Thoughts, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 10

Words: 2,145

Baz

I need to stop thinking about grey, slippery roads and black shrouds. About the purple under my Father’s dull eyes, and the red of my Aunt’s anger. I need to stop thinking about me - About my life. My head is too loud. Too noxious. I need someone else to take my mind for a while. I need to see. To paint. And so, I search for a subject.

Dragging my binoculars across the bleak, colourless houses, I search, desperately, for even a glimpse of a hue. But the colours are slipping from the world again. They always do when I’m trapped in my head.

And then I see them - The movers - so far from colourless that I’m dizzied. They’re great work horses, both of them - One chestnut, and one palomino - Hulking a grandfather clock up the house-next-door’s stairs. I’m zooming in, before I have time to reconsider - Into the stretch of navy against the flex of their arms, the rose flush of their foreheads, the tan swath of smooth stomach revealed each time they lift their arms. And then ... Shit.

I drop the binoculars onto the floor, my body following swiftly behind them. Because, on the roof of the house, there’s a boy pointing a telescope directly at me. Fucking Hell. How long has he even been there?

I risk a glance over the top of my windowsill. He’s wearing a tatty purple jumper, and there’s a mess of bronze curls tangled atop his head. Even without the binoculars, I can see that he’s grinning at me. Is he laughing at me, already? Does he know what I was doing? That I was watching the movers? Does he think that I’m ...? He must. Why else would I be ogling them. God. I feel the dread pinching at my throat, and try to tether my mind, so that it doesn’t get away from me again. Maybe he’s just a smiley person. Maybe he thinks I was looking at his clock. That’s equally as plausible, surely? And, I mean, he has a telescope. Dickheads don’t tend to have telescopes, do they?

Tugging at the ends of my hair, I stand. When he sees me he waves, but before I have a chance to reciprocate, he’s reaching into his pocket, drawing his arms backwards, and lobbing something straight at me. (Maybe he is a dickhead, after all).

On reflex, I stick out my hand. The unknown object slapping hard against my skin, as I close my fingers around it.

“Nice catch!” He yells. His voice deep and bright, with a definite Northern tinge. I decide that I like it. It suits him.

But, I don’t know what to say back. So, I don’t. Instead, I examine his potentially dangerous ‘gift’ - Spinning the rock around in the palm of my hand. It’s small (About the size of a pound coin) and covered in irregular lightening-like cracks. What am I supposed to do with it? Do I throw it back? Why did he even throw it at me, in the first place? I don’t know, but I slip it into my back pocket for safe-keeping, anyway.

When I look back at him, hoping for some kind of explanation, he’s turned himself back towards the sky. Too focused on looking through his telescope to notice me. Which, to be honest, is odd. I mean, it’s daytime. What could he possibly be looking at?

Even though I’m curious, I don’t stick around to find out. I’m worryingly off-kilter, and I need to rebalance. I hadn’t prepared myself for meeting a new person. I wasn’t ready. And so, I run to the place that I know best, to recuperate - The Art Institute. Where I can carry out further recon on the studio.

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

It was a good, productive sketch session. Nobody caught me peeping through the window, and I was able to get a few decent body references down. But … I don’t feel my usual post-art calm. My mind is still racing (Although, with a different genre of thought than earlier).

Every over time I have visited, the models have been women. Posing demurely, with a bowl of fruit or silks. Arms placed, to partially protect their modesty. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. But today … it was a bloke.

I don’t have a problem with that (Not really). There’s nothing wrong with blokes. And there’s nothing wrong with naked blokes, either. I’m mature enough to handle that. A body is a body. A sketch is a sketch. And I’m an artist first, queer person second. I just … hadn’t expected it. And I don’t like to be caught off guard. So, I’m feeling slightly rattled. I just need to get home, and get back to normality. To safe things - Like a beach scene, or a self-portrait. Familiar things. No more surprises.

And yet, a few steps into my walk back home, I see the guy from the roof leaning against a nearby tree, the same lopsided-grin aimed over at me. I blink, confirming his existence, and then he’s talking. Stood, barely 3 metres in front of me, in the dirt.

“How was class?”

He says it like it isn’t the strangest thing in the world that he’s here, with me, where he really has no reason to be. Like it isn’t only just slightly beaten in its absurdity by me, sketching propped-up on a wall outside, rather than inside, the studio. Like we aren’t complete strangers (Because, no matter how much he may be smiling at me, we don’t even know each other's names yet).

‘Yeah, sorry, I kinda’ followed you. I wanted to check out the woods, but I wasn’t sure of the way. So … I just tagged along. Figured you wouldn’t mind. Don’t worry though, I wasn’t watching you the whole time. I was busy with my own stuff.”

He points to an open suitcase filled to the brim with ... rocks? As if that’s normal.

“My meteorite bag’s all packed.”

I nod like that explains something, but it really doesn’t. Meteorites? I thought those were in the sky, not on the ground. And what does that even mean? He just carries around pieces of infinity. For what?

I look at him more closely, studying his face for any sign of disingenuity. For any sign that he’s just having me on. But I find nothing. Nothing … bad, anyway. Just a deep dimple accompanying his crooked smile, and miles of tawny skin, speckled with moles. He exists in shades of orange and gold. He’s the sun. And I can’t look away.

“Stare much?”

I drop my gaze, embarrassed - Staring down at his scuffed Nikes, as my neck prickles with heat. I don’t talk. What am I even supposed to say to that? Yes?

“Well ... you’re probably just used to it from staring at that bloke for so long. You know … for your drawing.” I look up - Grey meeting blue. He’s eyeing my pad curiously. “He was naked?” He breathes in as he says it, like the words stole his oxygen. It makes my stomach plummet, but I try to keep my face calm. I think about him watching me, watching the movers. How he watched me, watching the model. He must know. And ... I don’t know how I feel about that, just yet.

He looks down at my pad again. I don’t understand why. Does he want me to show him the drawings of the model bloke? It seems like he does. And some disturbed part of me wants to. But I doubt it. ‘Hey stranger, wanna’ see how I draw dicks?’ said no sane person ever. My stomach twists tight, and I’m out of control - My brain hazy amongst the moment’s tension.

“Look, man,” he sighs, half-smiling as he scrubs at the back of his neck. “I legit’ have no idea how to get home. I tried, but I just ended up back here. I’ve been waiting for you to lead the way. You don’t mind do you?”

I don’t think I mind. Do I? I don’t know. I shake my head, anyway, and point him in the right direction.

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

It’s a long way home, and we walk the majority of it in silence (Well, near-silence. The bumping of his suitcase creating a constant accompaniment to our steps). I try and resist the urge to look back at him. The urge to ask him all of my ‘Why?’s - Why did you follow me? Why are you still following me? Why are you collecting meteorites? Why were you looking at the stars in daylight? Why were you looking at me in the daylight? It would only make me more muddled. So, rather than relent, I take out my invisible brushes and start to paint behind my eyes.

And, after a while, I feel myself settling back into my skin. The dancing trees and setting sun relaxing me, in spite of the moment’s unsteadiness. Or ... maybe it was him. He’s an alarmingly relaxed person (I mean, I don’t know anybody else who would just follow a stranger around, with zero self-consciousness), so it wouldn’t surprise me if he had some sort of ‘Realm of Calm’ thing going on around him.

When we emerge from the woods, returning to our familiar concrete-laden pavements, he spins around and jumps in front of me. Ecstatic.

“Holy shit! That is like ... the longest I’ve ever gone without talking in my life! I was holding my breath just trying to keep the words in. How do you even do that? Are you always like this?”

He’s a mile a minute, and I’m lagging behind.

“Like what?”

And then he’s laughing at me. I can tell that he’s a person who laughs a lot, from the way he lets it take him over so easily - His whole being lightening up, as the sides of his eyes crinkle, joyfully. But it’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s not a mean laugh. It just makes me feel a little bit fizzy inside (In a good way. I think).

“Dude! Are you kidding? You do know those are the first words you’ve said all day, right?”

I didn’t, actually. But I don’t tell him that. He’d probably just think that I’m more strange than he, no doubt, already does.

He’s properly cracking up now (Although, I don’t know what, exactly, I did that was quite so funny). “And then you’re all just like ‘What?’”. </p>

He makes an absolutely atrocious attempt at imitating my accent (Which leaves him sounding like some kind of drunken Prince Charles impersonator), and before I can stop it, I’m laughing outright, alongside him. Both of us hunched-over cackling, wholeheartedly, probably looking more than a little mad.

Once we’ve calmed down, he starts staring at my pad again. Jesus Christ. I really wish he wouldn’t. I’m not going to show him my sketches. Not even if he begs. I’d never survive the embarrassment.

“So ... lemme’ guess. You do most of your talking in there?” He points down at my pad, and I feel the tips of my ears flood scarlet.

“Yeah. Something like that.” My voice comes out mumbled and gruff. I didn’t mean for it to. He probably thinks I did it on purpose, though.

He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured.

“I paint in my head sometimes,” I blurt. Dumb. So unbelievably dumb. “That’s why I was so quiet, I was painting.”

“Oh that’s cool. Saves paper, I suppose. Better for the trees, and that.” Stalling. He’s stalling. I’ve made it weird. I always make it weird. “So ... were you painting anything specific?”

“You.” Oh, fucking hell! I’ve ruined it - I’ve smeared on that last glob of un-erasable acrylic and ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t even mean to say it, it just ... popped out. And now he’s stood, gawping, eyes wide and face flushed. I’ve embarrassed him. I’ve gone and dumped all my greedy keenness on him, completely uninvited, and now he’s drowning in it.

Everything feels tight. The air, suddenly too humid to swallow. I’m gasping - Waves of breath crashing, loudly, in my ears. Panic. I’m panicking. I need to - I have to go.

So, for the second time today, I run. Spinning on my heels and darting back towards my house, without as much as a ‘Goodbye”. Away from him. Away from humiliation. Back to my room, where I pull the blinds shut and open up my pad - Briskly skipping over today’s work. A blank page. A fresh start. I really am no good at talking the normal way.

#carry on #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #my fic #my writing

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crunkumbee · 5 years

Text

Lost In You

Yancy x Reader

Requests:

could you write a piece about yancy and y/n in the ending where they stay in the prison and after a while get together and it’s a very sweet and soft? love ur writing xxx

I heard you want fanfic ideas? If so. May I present the classic jealous Yancy? A new prisoner/guard flirts with the reader? - @just-a-werido

oh. my god. dancing. with yancy. just. oh my god. please?

Cuddles and stuff because Yancy is baby- @greemany

Could you write a really fluffy Yancy x reader?? Like maybe they're both super touch-starved and easily flustered and so there's a lot of embarrassed but sweet, blushy cuddles and physical affection??? Sorry if this is a bad ask but I'm just a SLUT for Yancy cuddles thanks friend💕

Can I request a cuddly Yancy x reader where he almost lost her due to a fight between her and one of the guys who thought it be a good idea to mess with his family? Like the gang instantly comes to her aid and Yancy is like ????!!!!!!! and instantly makes sure his baby’s okay? Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Holy goddamn you guys first of all thank you so much I am so honored that you all love my writing and trust me enough to write these!! Second um I kinda went off and shoved all of these together bc I thought they would sound good and yeah also sorry fics have been kinda slow its just been a crazy last couple of weeks with LITERALLY EVERYTHING and dancing yancy?!?!?!? HELL YEAH but please please PLEASE ENJOY FRIENDS LOVE YOU ALL!!!

Tag List: @i-am-a-weeb @arts-of-plenty @gay-matty-boi @brokequeenofcardonia @writer-of-camelot @pleasedontfollowmeimtrash @bxbamilktae @th3-n3xt-phas3-2 @animals4ever527 @janiceapex @ughsomething @go-just-me-fan @les-amis-de-l-ab-yeet @aheistwithyancy

Twelve years with the chance for probation. That’s what you were stuck with. Happy Trails Penitentiary wasn’t what you thought it would be but after what you had done, you were perfectly fine with it. You weren’t one to talk to new people so when it came time for lunch you sat alone in a corner and prayed that nobody would sit next to you or even look at you.

The potatoes weren’t the best you had but it was better than you expected and as you were poking at them you didn’t even notice the man that sat next to you.

“Youse is new here. I’m Yancy,” he extended his hand out to you. “I saw you walk in and thought youse was the best looking person in this joint.”

“Y/n and I’m sure that seeing somebody new has an affect on who you’re attracted to.”

He chuckled and god damn that was a beautiful sound.

“Youse might be right. But you should come sit with the rest of us. Hank even has wine for us.

Your plan was to just sit there in the corner for the next twenty years but when a man as handsome as Yancy asks you to sit at his table, you don’t argue and just go along with it.

You followed the man to the table with multiple other people and you were instantly overwhelmed once they all started to surround you.

“Hey fellas, stand back a bit shes new here.”

And so for the next few weeks you sat at the table and the other prisoners became like family to you. You and Yancy had gotten really close. He would spend most of his time with you whenever you could and he had a spare key to all of the cells so some nights you could sneak into one anothers cell. Sure he was attractive but you weren’t anything more than friends and while you would like for there to be more, you were perfectly content with how your life was with him just being a friend.

There weren’t many other new guards or other inmates. But, there was a new guy. His name was Lucas and he just wouldn’t leave you alone. It wasn’t until Yancy said something to him that he kinda backed off but you could still feel his eyes on you. Three days into his sentence you went to use the restroom during lunch. It wasn’t in the same room as the cafeteria but it was down the hall a ways and since the guards trusted most of the inmates, they would let most of them just go off on their own. As you were walking out of the restroom, Lucas came up behind you and grabbed your hips, only resulting in you pushing yourself off of him.

“What the hell?!?”

“Come on baby girl you know you liked it. Why would you want some pansy like him when you could have all of this.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled at him before punching him in the throat. You wanted to go for the face but he was a lot taller and a hell of a lot bigger than you were and there was no way you would have reached even if you had wanted to.

“Bitch,” he backhanded you and your face hit the concrete wall. “Kick her ass.” Lucas said to the two people who then walked out from around the corner. Of course they were both women and twins.

“Too big of a bitch to fight me yourself Lucas?” If he replied you couldn’t hear it because the woman on your left with short black hair punched you followed by the other one with long brown hair that was tied back kicking you in the stomach. It took you a moment to shake it off but you soon got in with the rhythm of their movements and while you were taking an ass beating at least you were able to fight back. At least you wouldn’t be the only one bleeding.

You had been gone for too long and while the gang told him that everything was fine, Yancy just couldn’t shake the feeling that you were in some kind of trouble.

“Hey Tiny, can youse come with me to check on y/n?”

“Sure thing Yancy.”

Together they walked out into the hallway where the restrooms were and sure enough there was Lucas laughing as two women were fighting you. You were holding your own well but you were outnumbered.

“I’ll help y/n boss go get that asshole.”

Yancy nodded and sure enough Tiny was taking care of the brown haired woman while you focused in on the other one. Now that she didn’t have her partner, it was a lot easier to take her on.

“Hey Lucas! I know youse have a problem with me so let's take care of it right here, right now.”

“I’m not going to fight you. You’re not worth the waste of breath. And neither is y/n.”

He could have said whatever he wanted about him but the second that he brought you into it, Yancy lost his cool. Nobody could get away with having people attack you then talk shit about you. Yancy didn’t think before he clocked Lucas in the face and he fell to the ground. Yancy was about to advance on the fallen man before he heard your voice.

“Yance, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

He looked over and saw you bruised and bleeding. You and Tiny had managed to knock down and keep the other two women down. It was then that Yancy decided not to murder the man on the ground. Seeing his way out Lucas got up and walked down towards his cell.

“Come here sweetheart.” You started to walk towards him and he met you halfway. He walked you to the guard where Tiny told them everything that happened. Yancy walked you to the infirmary but it just so happened to be the nurses birthday so she wasn’t there so instead Yancy grabbed things that looked like they would be of use and walked back to his cell which was closer than yours. Jimmy followed you both and once you sat on his bed and Yancy put all the supplies next to you he went out of the small cell to talk to Jimmy. The other man nodded before walking off and Yancy came back to you.

“Okay this isn’t going to feel good but just know that I’m not tryin to hurt you.”

“I know you wouldn’t try to Yance. Just get it over with.”

Other than you occasionally wincing when he would put peroxide on the cuts on your face (and him apologizing every time) he was gentle.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner for youse. I should have been there to help you otherwise youse wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“Yance. Don’t try to blame yourself for what happened to me. You and Tiny came to help me before it got worse and that’s all that matters.” you put your hand on his and neither of you were used to the closeness that you were both currently at but all that either of you knew was that you liked it.

“Let me put these bandages on you. Just be still.”

As he put them on your face you could smell the sweet prison cologne that they gave them and for some reason it smelled better on him than it did anybody else.

Suddenly there was music playing throughout the hallway. It was usual for this to happen and the warden liked to have music on once in awhile.

“Do youse know how to dance?”

“What? Oh no! I’ve never had the chance to learn.”

“Well there’s no better time than the present.”

He extended his hand out to you and for a moment you hesitated. You weren’t used to so much and prison wasn’t the place that you thought that you would find a family but here you were, learning how to dance with the most handsome guy in the joint. It wasn’t what you were expecting when you got 20 years for arson but now that you were here and in the moment, it was nice.

As you took his hand and stood in the cell with the soft love song that you didn’t recognize playing over the speakers you realized that this was the place for you.

“Just let me show youse what to do and follow my lead.”

He carefully and cautiously to his shoulders and placed his hands on your waist. And when he started to move you followed and it soon became easy to follow.

You looked into his soft brown eyes and smiled and that’s when the moment of realization hit him, there’s nobody else for him. The way that something as small as dancing with him made you so happy and brought out the beautiful smile of yours, and if all of that could make his heart melt then there was no person he would rather be with.

Just when he thought the moment couldn’t get any better, you rested your head on his chest. It was now or never.

“Hey, uh, y/n?”

“Yeah Yance?” “What would you-, uh see I kinda-”

You knew what he was saying and didn’t need anymore confirmation than what he was giving you in that moment. You moved your hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck to push his lips to yours. His lips were softer than you could have ever imagined and he was thinking the same thing.

You pulled away and looked him in his puppy dog eyes, “I didn’t think youse would like somebody like me but I’ve been lost in you since the day you showed up.”

“I was going to say the same thing about you.”

“If I talked to the warden, would youse like to share a cell so we don’t have to sneak around every night?”

“If he allows that, I would love to.”

“Good because I talked to him this morning and he says that as long as we don’t get into a fight with each other then he doesn’t care.”

#my writing #markiplier #markiplier x reader #yancy #yancy x reader #markiplier yancy #AHWM #a heist with markiplier #AHWM spoilers #a heist with markiplier spoilers

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anaboo-thewriter · 5 years

Text

Get Like

Summary: You meet Dick’s dad for dinner with an unexpected twist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Warning: light smut

A/N: So I’ve been gone for a while, and I might be gone for a little while longer since I’ve started school (again!), but please bear with me. I know I have a lot of WIPs and I haven’t forgotten them, but I’m trying my hardest to finish them. Thank you to all those who stuck with me, and I’ll try to post as often as I can. Thank you!

_______________________________________________________________________

Not many things were able to make you nervous; however, meeting your boyfriend’s father was. You’ve heard many stories about Bruce Wayne being a somber guy who was active in your boyfriend’s life and even continues to be. You were dreading the amount of judgment you might face just beyond the doors that stand before you.

“Babe, you’re doing it again,” Dick chuckled.

You hadn’t noticed but you were fiddling with your necklace. Sliding the charm up and down the sterling silver chain frantically that it would only take seconds to break it to pieces. Dick halted your nervous tick by taking your hand in his and pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckle.

“I know you’re feeling a bit anxious to meet my father, Y/N,” he pulled you in closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. “But Bruce is just like all the other rich, stuck up socialites in Gotham: not a humorous bone in his body and full of judgment,” he tried to keep a straight face, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“That’s not funny, Dick,” you playfully shoved him once you figured out his joke, making him laugh, “you know I want to make a good impression on your father,”

“I know, I’m sorry,” his laughter subsided, and he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “But you have nothing to worry about. He’s going to love you,”

“How do you know that?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well for starters, you are wearing the very dress that made me fall in love with you on our first date,” Dick pulled you closer into his chest. You could feel his calloused hands brushing against your exposed back. The night was cold, but the chill up your spine wasn’t from the air. “Also, you’re beautiful, smart, charming, and beautiful,”

The old Grayson charm. It was Dick’s signature move to make you calm down and fall for him all over again. His compliment made you forget what you were nervous about and staring into his ocean blue eyes hypnotized you. You smiled and melted into his touch.

“You know you said beautiful twice,” you pointed out. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Your lips were inches from each other.

“I was hoping you’d notice,” Dick murmured before pressing his lips against yours.

All the anxiety you felt had vanished. Dick had a way of calming you down. It could be words of comfort or a distraction like a small make out session on the entryway of Wayne Manor. Dick’s hands slithered down from the small of your back to embrace your ass. Your fingers carded through his raven hair. The two of you were keen to close the gap between the two of you.

“If it isn’t the love birds,” an English voice spoke up. Flustered, you pushed Dick away and tried to hide your face from embarrassment. “Master Dick, I do suggest having dinner before dessert,” said who you assumed to be Alfred.

“I know, Alfred,” Dick chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was good to know you weren’t the only one embarrassed. “I got a little ahead of myself. This is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alfred,” you smiled, “Dick talks about you all the time,”

“Why the pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/L/N,” Alfred bowed. “It’s not often that we get to meet the woman who has won over Master Dick’s heart. Now come, the rest of the family are so eager to see you.”

He led the two of you through the vast, exquisite manor filled with antique furnishings and extravagant art. Your eyes sparkled in amazement like you were a kid in the candy store. In the living room awaited the rest of the members of the Wayne family. You could feel your palm sweat and shake against Dick’s steady one. Food would be the least of your concerns as your stomach was already full of fluttering butterflies.

“Dick, Y/N,” Bruce Wayne approached the two of you with a welcoming smile. The everything you knew about Bruce came from interviews from magazines and television. His expanding business, his philanthropic work, and his flings with various socialites.

“I’m glad you two could make it. Y/N, it’s about time we put the name to the face. Dick speaks so highly of you, but we’ll discuss that over dinner.” Bruce held his hand out for a shake. It was the perfect firm grip with two pumps before he guided you to the dining room where dinner awaited you.

______________________________________________________________________

Shyness had consumed you. You hadn’t said a word. It was the only thing you could do so you wouldn’t say something wrong or offend anybody. Even when Bruce would ask you questions or Dick would stimulate a conversation you could contribute to, but your responses were nods and two-word answers.

“You doing okay?” Dick leaned over to whisper in your ear.

You tried to pick up what was left of your pasta primavera with your unsteady hand. The glare you gave Dick was menacing.

“Okay, I see your point,” Dick concluded, “How about I help you out a little?”

“Help me out how? I’m crashing and burning here,” you hissed.

His thumb made soothing circles against the side of your knee. Your muscles relaxed, and you sunk into your seat. However, the serenity didn’t last long. Dick’s hand crawled from your knee and nestled on your thigh close to your crotch.

“If you’re good during dessert, then you’ll get a second helping before the night is over,” he proposed. His presence lingered before he drew away with a smirk on his face. You didn’t know if you could eat another bite of anything, but if Dick was offering seconds, you were more than happy to make room.

“You know, we try not to keep secrets in this family,” Bruce cut in.

“Sorry,” Dick’s thumb, with a feather-like touch, grazed against your clothed sex. You bit your lip to stifle any vulgar sound that could possibly escape. “Dick was just telling me about Alfred’s renowned cheesecake that is to die for,” The pressure increased as well as your need to moan.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was to die for, but it is one of my favorites,” Bruce complimented.

“I don’t know Bruce. What other desserts would top his cheesecake,” Dick contradicted.

“Well, his red velvet cake is pretty damn good,”

Bruce and Dick continued to argue about the various desserts they had during their time in the manor. The constant force from Dick’s thumb released, retreating to the middle of your thigh. Alfred removed your dinner plate of scraps and replaced it with a slice of New York style cheesecake with strawberries on the side.

“I’ll let you be the judge of this, Miss Y/L/N,” Alfred said with a small smile.

The pairing of the cheesecake and the strawberry was a fantastic pairing. The cream cheese was fluffy and light while the strawberries were sweet. A beautiful combination that it was almost comparable to sex. Almost.

“I take it that you like it,” Dick smiled.

“Oh my God!” the pressure to your clit returned with a vengeance. Your exclamation was more of an outburst, and you quickly covered up with a joke. “Alfred, can you come to my apartment and just make desserts?”

“How about I send a doggy bag?” Alfred joked.

“That’s more than I ever got,” Dick pouted.

“Not so fast there. She needs to try the red velvet cake,” Bruce insisted. Before he could make a request for more desserts, the subtle sound of a beeper distracted him. He rose from his spot at the head of the table. “I guess we’ll have to finish this debate until tomorrow. The office called in, some problem at Wanye Tech they can’t seem to handle for themselves. It was a pleasure meeting you Y/N, I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, Bruce,” you yelped. An awkward smile emerged on your face as Bruce gave you a puzzled look. Dick snickered next to you. He was going to be in for it tonight.

_______________________________________________________________________

“You’re kind of the worst, you know that, right?”

Dick wrapped his arms around your waist, the foundation for his Grayson charm. “Am I really?” he teased with a grin.

“Yeah, you are,” your irritated façade was slowly cracking. You couldn’t resist that smile, “You made me embarrass myself,”

“That’s not what I saw. I saw my girlfriend show off her personality with a little enticing reward,”

Dick was right. You were more relaxed when you had a goal and your personality shined. You were able to make Bruce and Alfred laugh at your antics. It gave you hope for the next day to be even better and more productive in getting to know the family better.

“Just so you know,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck. You closed the gap between the two of you and dug your hips into his. Crotch to crotch. His hardon was evident by the touch. You weren’t the only one turned on by tonight. “You are the only one that I get like this for,”

_______________________________________________________________________

Tags: @dc-hoe @rason-rodd @psychovigilantewrites @its-daydreamer23

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing fanfiction #young justice #young justice fanfic #young justice imagine #DC comics #dc comics imagines #dc comics fanfiction #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batman #batman imagine #ana writes

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illyrianwingspans · 4 years

Text

Do Not Go Gentle: Don’t Know Who I Am

Link to song

Synopsis: An intro to Feyre’s life in the city of Prythian. Check it out on Ao3 here.

Chapter One: Don’t Know Who I Am

One Year Later

I wiped my hands against my apron as the orders kept tumbling through. Though it was still early in the morning, the coffee shop was packed, and would stay packed until morning rush hour subsided and everyone got their caffeine fix. Then the lunch rush would come right back around and I’ll want to curl into a ball behind the counter and yell at people to leave. This is how most shifts went, usually. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my job.

Nobody wants to make coffee for a living. It’s not some life-long dream that a kid would aspire to. At least, I haven’t encountered anybody in a kindergarten class vehemently wishing to master the art of barista-ism when they grow up. Because making coffee for people is a shitty, shitty job. In some ways, I’m just a glorified drug dealer dispensing everyone’s morning fix.

But it makes the time go by. And it keeps me near Tamlin.

Not long after we moved in together, I wanted to get a job. Though Tamlin had profusely refused anytime I mentioned working, I kept pushing because I couldn’t stay in the house all day. Though I may have given up on schooling, I refused to become a stay at home trophy wife making crockpot dinners and resorting to ‘wine nights with the girls’ as a weekly ritual (because really, that’s just a fancy term for alcoholism to drown out the mind numbing loneliness that would indefinitely plague me). I couldn’t. I needed to stay busy and I needed to stay working, not only to make money, but to feel like I’d earned my place here.

Defining ‘here’ was always the issue. I didn’t know what ‘here’ was.

Here was in our spacious three bedroom apartment in downtown Prythian. Here was designer clothes and weekend galas and two hundred dollar steak dinners. Here was dating Spring Corporation’s newly adorned CEO, Tamlin Ivy, and living the upper 10% life.

Here was…comfortable. Easy. But also completely, awfully wrong.

I’d made no effort to be here, and everyone knew it. Hell, I knew, and nearly saw it written in the mirror’s condensation every morning after my shower. What I’d done, what’d happened… that shouldn’t have lead me to where I was today. No, that should have lead me down, down to the place I really deserved.

Nonetheless, I liked it here. I loved Tamlin and I wanted a future with him, ‘here’ being good or not.

“That’ll be six fifty,” I said hours later as the pale skin man pulled out his credit card in the empty shop. He’d said his order so quietly I had him repeat it twice, and tried to keep my face as neutral as I could when he’d said only a few decibels louder, “Large caramel frappucino, extra pump of hazelnut and double whip.”

He even brought his own cup to hide the monstrosity of an order from his colleagues. I never minded the complicated orders, though. They spiced up the routine.

As the blender sounded off in the shop, and pale frappucino dude moved off to the pickup side of the counter, I turned towards the order station armed with my usual garb. “Good morning, what can I get you today?”

Only instead of blearily listening to another business exec’s daily dose, I paused where I stood as my eyes settled upon the customer behind the counter.

I blinked, as before me stood the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

I hated saying that—mostly due to my current relationship status—but it was undeniable that the man before me was science’s only known example of perfect genetic combination. With his jet black hair, terra-cotta colouring, strong jawline and eyes so blue they hovered on—on amethyst—I was trying to hide the creeping blush crawling up my neck. Every ounce of him oozed grace and swagger and confidence, from his immaculately fitting suit to his subtle but enticing cologne, and though those things were incredibly sexy—they could also be vile.

And he must’ve seen it, too, because he shot me an easy smirk that’s definitely gotten him laid before. “Good morning, darling. How are you?”

The endearment, the smirk and the swagger, though, are what made me stop short. There were two kinds of beautiful people in this world: the ones who knew they were beautiful, and the ones who didn’t. This guy so obviously fell in the former category, and lucky for him, it was the type of person I tended to not get along with.

Instead of pushing it, though, I merely asked again, “What can I get you?”

Again, that feline smirk. He knew I was avoiding him. “You can get me an answer to my question.”

“I’m fine,” I ground out. “Would you like a coffee or would you like to piss me off?”

The words came out before I could stop them, and for a second I held my breath. I never, ever was rude to customers. Well, at least, I tried not to be, because there was one thing about the placement of Hum’s Coffee: it was on the ground floor of Spring Corp and nearby all of Prythian’s other biggest industries. This meant that the clientele was nearly exclusively office people, high ranking business execs and other prestigious titles—people I really shouldn’t piss off. But there was something about this guy that seemed to set me off today.

Thankfully, the only other person in the shop was frappucino dude, and he was far enough away that the blender faded out the conversation between us.

Except the man before me did not balk. He did not scowl. No, he wasn’t offended at all by my rather aggressive comment. In fact, he… he smiled. A fuller, genuine smile that showed off his white, straight teeth.

“Why not both?” Was what he said, and I fought against the grin that crept to my lips. Instead of answering him, I turned away to get frappucino dude’s frappucino, who was seeming more impatient by the second. Not forgetting his double whip, I handed over the man’s metal mug and he quickly screwed the top on, mumbled a thank you and sped away. Which left me turn begrudgingly to Mc Dreamy who waited patiently behind the counter, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

For the third, and what I decided was my last time, I asked, “What can I get you?”

“Large Americano with almond milk,” he said without thought, as though it rolled off his tongue every day. “And a smile, darling. Dazzling eyes and all.”

My fist clenched at my side while the other punched the order into the computer. Though I didn’t usually asked, my curiosity bit at me and urged the question from my lips. “Name?”

This guy must’ve been a Brad or Chad or Brent. He had that Frat-Boy-Daddy’s-Money look to him.

His perfectly tweezed brow arched in surprise. “Rhysand.”

My head angled to the side, mirroring his shock. Though I guess I shouldn’t really be, because Prythian was full of odd, unique names. Including my own.

“Four ten,” I growled, and he handed over a ten dollar bill. I quickly handed his change back to him and he merely put it in the tip bucket. Though I would’ve normally said thank you and showed my genuine appreciation—nobody tipped baristas anymore—I only turned and dispensed the espresso beans into the group head, thankful that my back was to him and he couldn’t read the seething hateful expression on my face.

Once I put the almond milk away and secured the lid, I grabbed the sharpie out of my apron and scribbled across the top. I usually didn’t take names because of this step, but I figured my shaky block letters didn’t look too embarrassing. And, with the fakest, widest smile I could muster, I slid the coffee across the counter to Rhysand, who merely grinned at me.

Until he looked down to his coffee and read the name I’d spelled out with a shaky hand: PRICK.

Rhysand’s eyes met mine and they blazed with a challenge, shock and… something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Lust? Attraction?

“Have a wonderful day, darling,” he said, and began to walk away, until he stop mid-stride and turned on his heel. “I didn’t quite catch your name, though. No tag.”

I crossed my arms. I didn’t wear my name tag because I didn’t want people knowing who I was or searching me up online when they had no business to, like Tamlin mentioned. And it served me well today, because I replied, “Be more polite, next time, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Next time? Is that a date?”

That blush came back once more. How could he? “What? No—”

“I just wanted coffee, but I’m open to anything you suggest, darling,” he smirked once more as he pushed the door open.

I glared at him and said, “In your dreams, prick.”

“Yes, you will be there tonight, darling.” With one last wink, he was gone.

I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Then, I laughed.

A chest-opening, heart-lightening laugh, something I hadn’t done in a long, long while. Thank God the shop was closed, because people definitely would’ve thought I was hysterical as I clutched the counter and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“Medium hot chocolate please, extra whip and chocolate sprinkles.”

“Sir, we’re closed—” I said over my shoulder, but turned when I saw the blonde hair and easy smile. My face, ready to be stern and scowling at whoever saw our closing hours and decided to walk in anyway, melted into a smile as Tamlin leaned onto the counter with a lazy grin on his face.

“Hi,” I said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m almost done. Just have to lock up.”

“Take your time,” he said “I ordered us Chinese for supper.”

I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose. American Chinese food was his favourite, and I tolerated it because I knew he liked it. I didn’t say anything though as I fished the key from the back room and locked the cash box and the front door, the bell sounding out its final ring as night swept across the city leaving streetlights and headlights to illuminate the dark. Tamlin’s elbow hooked into mine as we made our way down the sidewalk to the parking garage where his Beemer stood in the reserved parking spot.

The echo of the doors closing bounced off the wall of the parking garage and I settled back into the leather seat, sighing as the muscles in my neck finally unclenched after standing all day.

“Long day?” Tamlin murmured. He reached over the console and grabbed my hand. I hummed when his thumb brushed along the skin of my palm.

“Yeah,” I said, “asshole customers.” It was my usual excuse, but today it was pointed at one person in particular. Someone whose smirk was burned onto the inside of my eyelids by sheer arrogance.

“Mh,” he grunted in agreement. “Had a few assholes today as well. Seems as though I’ll be dealing with some miscreants for the next little while until the deal finally blows over.”

The thing about Tamlin’s business is that he kept things very vague. I knew he managed real estate and invested in other startup companies, but he always seemed to keep what he did private. Not that I wanted to hear about all the legal jargon and property wars, but it would’ve been nice to be involved in some of it. Only when I’d initially asked him about it, he’d just smiled and said, “Feyre, it bores me to tears most of the time. I don’t want to put you through that.”

True, I’d never had a knack for business, but it did interest me. I was in the arts program and wanted to get a minor in business, but my college days did not last long enough for me to actually learn anything of value.

Our routine was nearly clockwork. Park the car in the garage, go to the entrance to the private elevator and ride up to the fifty ninth floor where our penthouse waited. It was weird to call it ours, because I’d never paid a cent towards it, but it was our home. Either he’d cook or Alis made something before she left for the night or we’d both give up and just order in, which happened most nights. As it did tonight with the Uber-Eats person waiting at the entrance to the elevator. The smell of chicken fried rice wafted through the small space as we rode up floor by floor, curdling my stomach with each increment of elevation.

The elevator opened up to the apartment, and the grandeur of it never failed to make me feel like I’d gotten off on the wrong floor. With the floor to ceiling windows, ambient cool lights and modern decor, I felt like I was walking into an overpriced hotel. Like the furniture was for show, not for living.

Tamlin didn’t echo the feelings, even when I’d voice them to him. He only laughed at how ‘quirky’ I was. I reminded myself that he’d grown up in spaces like this his entire life. This wasn’t the South Side anymore where we’d shared a two bedroom with four people.

No, I’d escaped that life. I’d burned away the moment I left that hospital, and I’d never looked back.

We settled in front of the TV and I curled into Tamlin’s warmth, savouring the feel of his arm around me and the smell of his skin, like rosemary and fresh rain. The food tasted ashen in my mouth but I downed it with a glass of water. Tamlin looked into the container and back up at me. “You not hungry?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated Chinese food, so I opted for a half truth. “Not really. I’ll take it to work tomorrow.”

He nodded and his eyes waded back to the TV. “Don’t forget, we’ve got that gala tomorrow night.”

I sighed. “Do we really have to go?”

“Yes,” he chuckled into my hair and set his empty container onto the coffee table before us, “I’m kind of hosting it, so it would be appropriate if I made an appearance.”

“You mean Ianthe and Lucien are hosting it.” I deadpanned.

“Well, yes but—” Tamlin stumbled over his words until he saw the smirk on my face, then smiled. “Look, I don’t like these things either but they’re part of the job description. Plus, with everything happening with Night Industries, it’ll be a chance to get them off our scent.”

“You have a scent?” My brows furrowed. “Who are the Night Industries?”

He waved me off. “Doesn’t matter. But,” he hedged, his eyes dimming, “I talked to Ianthe. About what you’re wearing.”

The breath squeezed from my lungs. We didn’t talk about this. Not in the open; not in casual conversation.

“She made sure to get something longer this time. It should be—”

“As long as it covers them, I’m fine,” I muttered—more like bit out. I couldn’t meet his eyes. He shifted next to me, like the proximity between us was no longer a comfortable, familiar thing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, and he pulled me closer to him. Despite the reluctance blossoming in me, I settled into him again and we found bliss in the mindless activity of staring at an information box.

After a while, though, my thoughts reverted back to the conversation and got caught on the words. Covers it, covers it, something longer to cover it—

Cover up the fact that I was crazy. Cover up the fact that I was off the deep end and everyone knew it, cover up the fact that I evidently did not belong amongst them, cover up the fact that I was a fraud and a liar and a murderer and that I didn’t deserve any of this, that I should be gone like the rest of them—

“You okay?” Tamlin asked from the kitchen. I hadn’t even realized he’d left the couch. I hadn’t noticed the absence of his warmth.

The entire space was open and I could see him standing behind the marble counter that could probably pay for many years’ worth of food for my family and I in the past.

I swallowed hard. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He didn’t answer as I pushed myself off the couch and padded away down to the narrow hall branching to the rooms and our offices. As I passed Tamlin’s office, I sighed, knowing he’d probably be holed in there for the rest of the night. Then I passed my office.

Office was a loose term. There was a desk somewhere in there beneath the newsprint and old bedsheets and paint cans. Art studio was the better fitting name, but seeing as though I no longer used it, maybe museum was the best way to describe it. Museum of the life I’d left behind.

I left my things in our bedroom and pulled my robe from the back of the door as I settled into the washroom and began to strip.

Looking at myself in the mirror was a draining thing.

Which was why I ignored it and slumped my clothes in the corner before stepping into the boiling stream of water. It burnt my skin red and splotchy but I didn’t care as I rubbed a day’s worth of sweat and grime off of me.

And when I got to my scar covered thighs, I paused. Then scrubbed them furiously anyways.

Like that could ever make it go away. Soap and exfoliation didn’t erase fuck up.

Nonetheless I scrubbed and scrubbed until my thighs were raw, and when the water turned cold I slumped onto the shower floor and closed my eyes as the stream fell onto my shoulders. It was the only time where I felt like I had some sort of hold on myself; when the world wasn’t just a blur, and the silence could reign.

“Feyre?” A voice called. “Is everything alright?”

My eyes opened and I sighed, staring at the water collecting on the tiles. The silence never reigned long before interruption. “Be out in a minute.” I called.

The water still dripped from my body when I stepped out into the dim hall and Tamlin stood there, arms crossed, eyes snaking up my body like he owned every inch of it. There was that familiar hunger in his gaze. The one I let devour me. The one I wore when I wanted to devour him.

His lips found my skin before either of us could say anything, and before I knew it the towel was off of me and we were stumbling towards the bed.

Chills trembled across my skin as his mouth came down on me, and I let out undignified sounds when he plunged his full length within me. Thrust by thrust, the aches went away, the pain fled, the silence was broken—the void took a step back and waited patiently as I got my fill. As my thoughts left my mind, and as my mind left this body, if only for a few passionate, glorious minutes of pleasure.

Tamlin rolled off of me after I’d screamed out my climax. I stared up at the ceiling, catching my breath, counting the flickers of light protruding in from the window’s diluted city glow. His weight shifted next to me, and I felt his lips press a kiss to my shoulder before he got off the bed, pulled his pants on and left the room, presumably to resume work in his study.

I didn’t even have the energy to get up and dry my hair. I only curled further into the sheets and made sure my alarm was on before letting my eyes fall closed, and sit back as the void, along with the thoughts, creeped back in.

“I’ve got to head straight to the gallery after work so I’ll get somebody to pick you up, alright?”

My fingers fumbled as I neared the ends of my hair I was trying to braid. I lost them and shook out the rest of my hair before starting again. “I can just catch a ride with someone. Or walk, it’s honestly not that far.”

Tamlin waved the thought away. “Don’t worry about it, besides I wouldn’t want you to scuff up your dress. I’ll text you the information.”

I licked my lips and nodded once. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and I gave him a grin before we parted ways at our usual location of divide on the ground level of Spring Corporation. He headed for the executive elevator while I headed to Hum’s. The world still slept at five thirty in the morning, but they’d be awake soon and demanding their morning prescription before I knew it.

The day passed in a blur of whirring machines, bills and change and grounds. Sweat beaded on my brow and my feet ached, but I carried on despite the exhaustion wearing on my bones. The fog in my mind seemed to thin out when the rush came in and consumed my focus and attention. But when the lulls came, and I was sweeping around the few tables, my mind wandered. Far. My hands were rope-burnt from trying to reel it back in.

But I did. Because tonight was important for Tamlin, and I couldn’t break down. There was no room for error when your life was centred on appearances. Everything was always good and perfect and lovely, even if it wasn’t.

A familiar face appeared at the door, and I smiled as Lucien’s golden red hair gleaned in the sunlight. He reciprocated the smile as he revealed what he’d been holding behind his back: a hanger supporting what must’ve been a lush gown concealed by black material.

“Is it hideous?” Were the first words out of my mouth. Lucien laughed as I took the hanger from his hands across the counter and set it in the back with the rest of my things. We had a running joke between us about the dresses Ianthe had put me in before that made me look no less than an exotic bird. Some were gorgeous, though, and I loved putting on the lavish materials—but most of the time, they felt like a waste.

“You look gorgeous in anything,” was all he replied with his usual dripping sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and began whipping up his usual: chai latte with oat milk and extra cinnamon on top.

“So what’s this one for tonight?” I wondered aloud. “New partner? Company morale? Charity dinner?”

At the mention of this, Lucien’s face turned neutral, his stance uneasy. One thing about Lucien that I picked up quickly was that you could always read how he felt by his stance. And now, I could tell he was lying, or hiding something, as he did often when discussing company business.

“Something like that,” was all he vaguely answered. In the past, I may have interrogated him until his ears bled, as he put it, but I let it go. Another charity ball wasn’t going to kill me. My feet and knees, maybe, from wearing the heels Tamlin loved, but not the entirety of me.

Over the whirring of the milk steamer, I called, “I don’t get why we have these anyways. He sneaks off half of the time to discuss with people and leaves me with the rest of the sharks.”

“Firstly, we’re under a lot of pressure right now with our competitors. People are trying to snoop where they don’t belong. And before you ask, you know I can’t tell you anything.” I sighed. The one golden rule Tamlin and I kept in our relationship: work stays at work. “And secondly, they are not sharks, Feyre.”

“They damn well might be,” I countered. I removed both tea bags from the piping water and poured the warm milk into it, the spicy scent caressing my senses. “They’re all numbers and business and exponential growth. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Ianthe will be there,” Lucien supplied, licking his lips as I sprinkled copious amounts of cinnamon atop the foam of his drink. “And Bron and Hart.”

“They have eleven brain cells combined, if that.”

Lucien shot me a pointed look as I slid the drink across the counter to him. “That’s six more than you’ve got, Fey.”

I bit back a grin as I shoved his shoulder from across the counter. “Get out of here.”

“I’ll see you tonight. Clean yourself up a little.”

I didn’t have time to bite back a retort before the door closed behind him. Clean yourself up, I scoffed. I had my makeup kit in my bag. And I showered last night. I looked fine.

Probably not as dashing or pristine as Ianthe will, but my hair’s clean. And I smelled good. That right there was the height of my presentability.

The clock ticked closer and closer to five, the end of my shift. There usually wasn’t many people past five, seeing as though Hum’s wasn’t much of a student-oriented establishment. The last hour was always the longest, watching as every second brought me closer to the gala. My stomach felt like it was crawling. I hated these events.

The door opened along with the chiming bell, and my head snapped up from my phone to see an all-too familiar face already set in a smirk. Only this time, his suit was immaculate, even more so than yesterday’s, and his hair was parted differently, gelled back with little dangling strands around his face that brought out he midnight blue of his eyes.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to face this prick again, but damn was he so good to look at.

“I should put your picture up on the board with the rest of the banned customers.” I said as I turned to the espresso machine. I hated that I remembered his order. His eyes even showed surprised as I pulled out the almond milk and boiling water for his Americano.

“Wouldn’t you love to stare at me all day long?” He mused. “They better keep that board near the front so you don’t hide back there all day looking at me. Maybe tape it right here to the cash register.”

“Prick,” I murmured under my breath. I didn’t want to meet his eyes, and I didn’t want to seem like I had any interest in what he did whatsoever, but I couldn’t help myself. “Why the expensive suit today? Hot date?”

“All of my suits are expensive. And unless there was a date and time written on the bottom of my cup yesterday, I don’t recall you asking me out.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, screw you.”

“You wish.”

My cheeks were probably the colour of traffic lights as I poured the almond milk into his coffee. “Four ten.” I ground out.

“Where’s that dazzling smile today, darling? Really, you must give me your manager’s contact information. I demand better service than this.”

“I’ll read it out to you: 514-829-suck my dick.”

Rhysand stood before me, a startled look on his face, like he couldn’t believe the words I’d just said.

I couldn’t believe the words I’d just said. This man was rich. Probably high, high up in the corporate rank. A phone call from him to anybody’s boss would definitely get them fired.

But he let out a startled laugh. A full, rich laugh that only made me swallow hard.

And bite back a smile.

“Four ten,” I said once again, and he only handed over yet another ten dollar bill. He didn’t even acknowledge my hand when I gave him his change and I begrudgingly put it in the jar.

But he didn’t leave. No, he stood there in front of me sipping his coffee like this was a normal, casual thing we did.

“You make a killer coffee, darling. Really.”

“It’s just an americano,” I scoffed. I turned and began wiping down the espresso machine and milk steamer. But really I was hiding the blush on my cheeks. God, look at me. Gawking over a stranger because they complemented me. An annoying stranger at that. One that knew exactly how to get under my skin.

“Don’t you have better things to do with your time than flirt with baristas?” I threw over my shoulder. He still wouldn’t leave, despite the silence between us.

“Yes of course I do, but flirting with you is by far the most enjoyable.”

My eyes narrowed. “You don’t even know my name.”

“You could easily fix that by just telling me.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Darling, I just don’t think it’s fair. You know my name. All the mystery is demystified. You’ve got the upper hand. Help me out a bit, here.” He shot me a pout and those brooding eyes, but I couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I pointed to the clock.

“We’re officially closed, and I don’t have to put up with you anymore.”

He only smirked and began walking away from the counter with that same graceful swagger. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning bright and early, darling.”

“There’ll be a restraining order by then!” I called back.

The door swung shut with the chiming of the bell, and I sighed.

I told myself the smile on my face wasn’t because of him. But I was never really a good liar.

The gown wasn’t hideous. Hideous was too strong a word.

I was just grateful, though, that my scars stayed out of view. Last time, things got…ugly.

Nonetheless, it sure as hell wasn’t my style. I sighed as I walked up the avenue, chiffon balled tightly in my fists, and tried to calm my nerves as I saw the pillars to the Prythian art gallery crawl into view. The lights they’d set up made the entire white-marble building seem like a dream. The gala tonight was for company morale, a sort of way for all of them to clap themselves on the back for the hard work they’d done. I’d lost count of how many I’d attended since I’d known Tamlin.

Usually I could nose my way out of them. When I was in school, before the accident, it was easier to use that out and have a night to myself in the apartment. Now that I was only working at Hum’s, I didn’t have any excuse anymore.

Every step ached in the heels. This was going to be a long night.

The bouncers didn’t even need to ask for name as I walked in the main front doors. The lobby was teeming with people I didn’t know, most likely all of them employees or people from business circles. Faces swam in and out of view, and I felt like I’d seen many of them before, but without Tamlin at my side I had no reason or courage to approach them.

He could’ve been anywhere. I had no idea where to even start looking.

The dinner was at seven, so I supposed I had a few hours to kill. I glanced over my shoulder for a moment then weaved my way to the back of the room where the museum branched off into different wings. Tamlin did pick the best venues, I had to concede. Always something for me to distract myself with.

This month’s exhibition was Paris’s post-impressionism era in the 1900s. Arguably my favourite period in art, the museum was lucky enough to snag some lesser-known Van Gogh and Monet. There was one piece, an early morning sunrise flecked with pinks and oranges that caught my eye. I stood before it, staring at the brushstrokes and blending of colours and hues, amazed. My fingers itched. I wanted to memorize the colours to memory in hopes that I could ever possibly recreate such a piece.

Before I realized it, I looked down at my fingertips and took a step back from the piece. I wanted to paint. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in so long.

It’d been months since I’d painted. Tamlin wanted me to keep painting, said it would be good for me, but that studio haunted me. I couldn’t go back. There was nothing left for me in there.

One thought of trying to mix the red and white had me exiting the the showroom. Tears burned behind my eyes, and the last thing I needed right now was to make a scene at Tamlin’s party.

After a while of meandering, drinking alone and making several trips to the washroom to check my half-assed hair and makeup, Tam’s blonde hair came into view and it was seven o’clock.

His arm slid around me, too tight, and the easy grin on his face didn’t reach his eyes. “Where’ve you been? You’re late.”

“I’m late? Where have you been?” I retorted lowly. “I’ve been here looking for you for hours.”

“Have you been talking to people?”

I remained silent. The round tables were amply decorated with flush, exotic flowers that probably cost my yearly salary. Everything was gold-trimmed, pastel and proper, the usual colours of Tamlin’s personal assistant’s palette.

Tamlin ground out, “You can at least try, Feyre. For me.”

“I have been for the past year.” I snapped.

It was all we had time to say to each other before somebody came to shake Tamlin’s hand and bellow some inside stock-trading joke I didn’t understand before bursting into laughter. They followed us until we reached our table, right near the front of the room before the stage. Lucien and Ianthe were already seated, the former looking pale and tense.

He shook his head when I shot him a questioning look. When it came to Ianthe, Lucien was always tense.

The night passed by dreadfully. Making conversation was painful. Ianthe and Tamlin had plenty to talk about, though, with the drama in their elite circles that I didn’t care enough to be a part of. I’m sure most of the people here tonight were kind and interesting and wonderful people, but there was still that innate part of me that clung to the belief that most businesspeople were sucked dry of their souls.

I looked to my boyfriend. Most being the operative term. Not all.

Tamlin, though, began to grow tense. His head kept bouncing to the back of the room to a set of doors. His leg was bouncing beside me. It was so bad I had to put my hand on his thigh to calm him down. He put his hand on top of mine and shot me a grateful look, and I kissed him on the cheek. I knew he hated these things too.

Lucien looked to Tamlin. “Have your friends showed up yet?”

Tamlin shook his head. “Any minute.”

“What friends?” I wondered. I knew most of Tamlin’s friends and business partners. They were all neatly classified under the rich white guy identification part of my memory.

He shook his head, though. “You haven’t met them. You don’t want to meet them. They’re not necessarily good friends.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you in trouble? Is something wrong?” Nervousness bloomed in my stomach. We couldn’t repeat last time. We really, really couldn’t repeat everything that happened last time.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured in my ear. I sighed but leaned into his warmth anyways. Then suddenly he was up, and I scrambled to stay seated without falling out of my chair from the abrupt loss of contact.

“I’ll be right back.” He declared before storming off to the set of doors off to the east wing of the gallery. There were three sets of feet. My stomach grumbled. Everything about this was off.

I looked down to my plate and couldn’t finish it. Too rich. Too buttery. Everything, it was all closing in: the people, the finery, the utter lack decency…it was like being completely and truly alone in a room full of people. At a table filled with friends.

Lucien laid a hand on my shoulder. “Fey? Are you okay?”

“I need some air,” I muttered, before stalking out to the gallery’s main lobby. I stared at the map before throwing myself into the twisting hallways, and cursing myself for wearing high heels as I climbed stair after stair. But finally, I found myself on the gallery’s rooftop, looking out over the water of the Sidra and wishing I was anywhere but here.

Only I wasn’t alone.

I nearly flinched when I saw who it was leaning across the building’s cement lipped edge. The city lights made his face seem older. Deep-set. Like life had dealt him yet another shit hand and he was wondering whether to go all in or just fold.

I mean, I was near the point of folding. I really, really was.

Especially since I thought I was going to finally get some damned peace, yet now I had to face this prick. For the second time today.

“Stalking me, darling?”

“Could say the same for you, creep,” I called across the landing. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Apparently in the mere hours we’d been apart, life had taken a wrong turn for him. Probably didn’t happen too often judging by the look on his face.

“All dressed up. Tell me, what are you doing here darling? You look like a minnow in a sea of sharks.”

I scoffed. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with questions?”

“Are you going to keep asking me questions I don’t want to answer?”

Rhysand’s gaze held mine. We were only feet apart, but it was like a current ran between us. My mouth, puckered in a frown, only ignited the ever-lasting amusement in his eyes. That same electric, tension-filled feeling I felt in the coffee shop, like I didn’t know whether to throttle him or run my hands across his chest.

I blinked. I couldn’t believe I’d just thought of that. I brushed it away, telling myself just because I wasn’t ordering didn’t mean I couldn’t look at the menu.

Admitting defeat, my stare broke from his. Instead, I took position leaned against the cement railing, and marvelled at the city, the sea of lights and beauty before us.

Before I knew it, Rhysand was beside me, the arm of his expensive suit nearly brushing mine. The warmth nearly leeched from his toned body. I wanted to press myself into him as the breeze flew over us, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m not gonna lie, darling, I’ve had a shit day.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know. But I’m going to talk anyway. Because I need someone completely objective to discuss with.”

The silence stretched on with my muteness. Half of me wanted to listen, half of me wanted to walk away before I was in too far over my head.

“You know when everything feels like it’s stacked up against you? Like nothing more could possibly go wrong, and then you turn around and it does?” He sighed. “I blink and days go by. I have no idea how I get here; half of the time I have no idea how I even get out of bed. It’s like I’ve made my way here to the top, I’ve got everything I could imagine.” The rush of the city cars filled in the quiet between us as he paused for a moment. “But I’m still fucking empty inside.”

I told myself it was the breeze that sent the shiver down my spine. Not the aching feeling I had as he said those words, as he described everything I’d been feeling over the past year of my life.

Then Rhysand chuckled. “By the Cauldron. I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy.” His breath fogged as he laughed again. “Guess I’ve got to find myself a new coffee shop.”

“No,” I replied instantly. His eyes flicked to mine, the surprise only presenting itself with the gentle up-flick of his eyebrows. “No. I know how you feel. I get it.” I cleared my throat. “It’s either completely normal to feel this way, or we’re both anomalies.”

“Honestly, I hope it’s the latter. I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like those people milling around downstairs. But here I am, fraternizing among them like we’re old friends.”

I shrugged. “Whatever keeps the roof over your head and food on the table.” I knew too many days with food on the table to deny that the money we had was extremely comforting.

He grinned, but it was sad. Morose. “That’s one way to put it.”

More silence ensued, but it wasn’t awkward. It was…peaceful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out on Tamlin and I’s balcony at home just to watch the world spin and move and whirl around me. Most definitely because I couldn’t trust myself on a balcony anymore. My mind was a thing of its own; moving in toxic ways the rest of me balked at.

“How long have you been a barista?” Rhysand wondered softly.

“A year,” I supplied, “can’t go back to sugary drinks now, though. Not after all the shit I see going into them.”

He chuckled, and I asked, “How long have you been empty on the inside?”

This time, the smile was full and bright, and it did reach his eyes. Rhysand said, “My entire life, darling. My entire damned life.”

“Well—”

The sound of metal screeching interrupted me, and a breathless voice called, “Feyre?”

I whipped around to see Lucien there, hand on his knee hunched over, trying to catch his breath. My heels echoed across the rooftop as I jogged towards him without toppling over. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?” He sneered. “Why are you speaking with him?”

I wrinkled my nose and turned back to Rhysand. “You know him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lucien said, but threw a look Rhysand’s way nonetheless. A look about as unfriendly as they go. “We need you downstairs, Fey. Let’s go.” And with that Lucien began pounding down the stairs.

But I looked back at Rhysand. He only waved lazily my way, and called, “Until next time, Feyre darling.”

I bit back my smile as I in turn began thundering down the stairs. Prick.

It appeared as though the banquet went smoothly considering the near empty glasses—being quickly refilled—and the laughter-filled, red-tinted faces that beamed as Tamlin took the stage. Under the lights, his golden hair looked smooth and gleaming where it fell naturally down to his ears, and his tuxedo highlighted his muscled body in all the perfect places. His face was flushed as well, and I knew we’d have to call an Uber tonight by the looks of it. I’d never learned how to drive—never needed to with public transportation and Tamlin—which meant me driving home was out of the question. Better to put Tamlin at the wheel despite the state he was in than to even attempt letting me near the driver’s seat.

“As you all know, tonight is a celebration of the success of this company, of which you’ve all contributed immensely to, thanks to your handwork and dedication to our mission.” Applause erupted, and Tamlin’s smile brought my own grin to my face. To see the pride in his face…I knew despite all the complaints and exhaustion, he still liked what he did.

“Spring Corporations has never seen better days, and for that, you all have my utmost gratitude and admiration.” More applause, to which Tamlin patiently waited to pass before adding, “but tonight is more than just our corporate success.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. What else could Tamlin have to announce?

“Personally, things have been hectic. It’s been a good, prosperous year, but that doesn’t come without life’s ups and downs.” His eyes wandered through the crowd, until they finally befell me, and his eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my boyfriend so content. “Life has thrown a lot of ups and downs at me, and I wouldn’t have been able to handle them without my girlfriend.”

My heart was pounding in my chest. Oh Gods. I had no idea where he was going with this.

Scratch that, I knew exactly where he was going with this, and it made me nearly sick to my stomach.

“Feyre Archeron,” he said, “you are the true one and only love of my life. There’s nobody, no one else on this earth that brings me joy and understands me like you do.”

Tamlin took the microphone, and murmurs began spreading across the crowd as he wandered down the steps right before our table, right before me.

I wasn’t breathing.

Tamlin got down on one knee, and joyful gasps echoed through the room. With one hand, he fished a dark velvet box from his inner suit pocket, and cracked it open to present the largest emerald stone I’d ever seen, set onto a golden band. So typically Tamlin that I grinned.

“Feyre,” he murmured into the mic, his golden eyes brimming with silver as we stared at each other, “will you marry me?”

Fear paralyzed my body, yet I still choked out, “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

The microphone screeched but I didn’t care as I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, sealing our lifetime together, with a little voice in my head echoing, There’s no going back now.

#dngg #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #sjm #feyre #rhys #feysand #feyrhys #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

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xfangheartx · 5 years

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Just Us Two- Chapter 1

Ta-dah, it’s here! The sequel to my InuKag High School AU, Only You!

Now, I won’t lie, this might not get updated as often, but I hope you’ll continue to enjoy it!

WARNING: This contains spoilers for Only You, so if you haven’t read that, first, you might want to do that.

Tagging: @cstorm86 @keichanz @zelink-inukag @keepyoursmilesup @myverysweetescape @xxaries-witch-postsxx @ashcanvas @realinugirl @meggz0rz @desiree239 @inuyashaeienni

Anybody who wants to be tagged (or doesn’t want to be) let me know!

Enjoy!

Ch. 1- The Summer

Monday, June 9th. 11:55 AM. The air was getting warmer as the days went by. Where there were once flower petals raining down from the trees, there were now bright sunny rays and the sound of cicadas buzzing. All these changes meant only one thing: summer would be coming soon. At Shikon High School, the air was abuzz with chatter. The students, both human and demon alike, were all heading out to the cafeteria for lunch period. As they did, they all talked about one thing and one thing only: their plans for summer vacation. For instance, some girls sat at a table in the corner, chatting amongst themselves as typical girl cliques do. "So what are you doing for the summer, Naomi?" "Hmm...dunno. I'll probably go see my grandparents for a few weeks. What are you doing?" "Probably just stay home and eat junk food." The girls all laughed while nearby, a group of boys also chatted about their plans. "What are you doing for summer break, Tatsuki?" "I think I'll finally ask Mizune if she'll go out with me." "Mizune? The snake demon girl you've been crushing on for the past few weeks?" "Yeah. I figured it was about time, you know?" "I don't blame ya. She is pretty hot!" As the students talked and gossiped, there was one particular student who was heading up the stairs to the roof, holding a bundle in her hands. She had a look of excitement on her face and she couldn't stop the giggling that was bubbling up inside her chest. A warm blush was painted on her cheeks as she carried the bundle up the stairs. Her raven hair was tied up in a ponytail as a measure to keep off the summer heat. Kagome Higurashi, a second-year student with spiritual powers, was going to give her boyfriend a homemade lunch she made. In the past, she didn't think she'd ever do something like this: cooking homemade meals for someone she cared for. Now that she was actually dating someone for real instead of just sleeping around with guys, she couldn't contain her giddiness. She could imagine the look on his face, now, the moment he took that first bite. She honestly felt like they were already married, even though they were still in high school. As Kagome headed up the stairs, her phone buzzed, causing her to pull it out of her pocket.

NEW TEXT MESSAGE FROM INUYASHA:

"Hey, where R U? I'm starving."

Kagome giggled as she began to text back. KAGOME:

"I'll be there soon." ^^

INUYASHA:

"I hope so. My stomach's about to eat itself."

Kagome giggled again. "Oh, Inuyasha..." She then headed up the stairs, passing several students on the way there, particularly of the male variety. "Hey...isn't that Kamakiri Kagome?" "I heard they don't call her that, anymore...not since she and Inuyasha Taisho started going out about a couple of months back." "Are you serious? Aww, man...I thought I could get a chance to score!" "Dude, don't let Taisho hear you say that!" "Are you kidding?! I wouldn't say it to his face! You know what he'd do to me?!" Kagome sighed and rolled her eyes. It seems that despite how much things have changed, part of her reputation still followed her. Despite that, she smiled. She wasn't going to let that bother her. Not today. She was going to be spending a much-needed break with her beloved boyfriend. Soon, Kagome opened the door to the school roof, where she was soon greeted by three familiar faces. First was Sango Tachibana, a third-year sophomore that was skilled in martial arts and Kagome's best friend since childhood. Because of Sango's fierce and protective attitude, some people often called her Kagome's bodyguard. Her younger brother, Kohaku, had been injured from a hit-and-run earlier this spring, but thankfully, he survived the incident and was now in his third year of middle school. Then there was Miroku Tatsuya, also a third-year student. He was a Buddhist priest-in-training who had a bit of a reputation amongst the female student body as a ladies' man. Even though he and Sango were dating now, it seemed that old habits died hard with him. To this day, Sango still doesn't know why or how she fell him, but here she was. "Hey, Kagome!" Sango exclaimed. "How's it going?" Miroku asked with his arm draped around Sango's shoulders. "Pretty good," Kagome answered. "Where's Inuyasha?" "Hey, baby girl." Kagome turned and smiled fondly at the one who spoke: her half-demon boyfriend, Inuyasha Taisho. Inuyasha was in his third year of high school, now. A half-demon born of a human mother and a dog demon father, Inuyasha had quite the reputation at the school for being a juvenile delinquent. He often had a nasty temper and got into fights with anyone who so much as even looked at him funny...at least, that's what people believed. Really, Inuyasha was a big marshmallow at heart with an affinity for small and cute animals. He actually adopted a stray kitten a few months back that he had affectionately named Miyuki. "Hey, boo," Kagome said as she walked up to Inuyasha and stood on the very tips of her toes, kissing him on his lips while Miroku and Sango smiled at them. It was hard to believe that just about three months ago, in the middle of spring, that Inuyasha nearly killed Kagome when they first met. It all started way back in March. Inuyasha had been asked by Miroku to help him recover a confiscated DVD (Sexy-Ninja-Something-Or-Other, Inuyasha couldn't quite remember the name) during the night, sometime after curfew. During that time, Kagome came outside after being bullied by a bratty girl and her clique. Back then, Kagome had a bit of a foul reputation for sleeping around with guys and...well, the bullying got to be so bad for her, that she felt like she wanted to die. That night, Inuyasha nearly granted her wish, but he struggled with his inner demon. Not wanting to bring harm to an innocent human girl, Inuyasha let Kagome go, thinking that he'd probably never run into her again...but it seemed that fate had other ideas. The day after that, Inuyasha ran into Kagome at the school garden, wanting to get flowers for his mom since her birthday was coming, soon. Imagine Inuyasha's surprise when Kagome's idea of a reward was to strip down to her underwear and prepare to have sex with him. Needless to say, the half-demon was definitely appalled by this sudden turn of events and ran out. Upon hearing of Kagome's reputation, however, he suddenly felt the urge to see her more often. Days passed and before too long, Inuyasha found himself deeply in love with Kagome, who began to reciprocate those feelings...even after Inuyasha's ex-girlfriend, Kikyo, came back to town, and Kagome was kidnapped by the deranged half-demon student, Izumo. Since then, Inuyasha and Kagome officially became a couple. "I brought you something," Kagome said as she held up the bundle, which she opened to reveal two lunchboxes. "One for me and one for you!" "You made me one?" Inuyasha asked as he took one of the bento boxes. "Just to show you that I love you," Kagome said. Inuyasha smirked at her before he opened up the box, revealing an assortment of food such as chicken karaage, tamagoyaki (a little bit blackened in some parts), sweet potatoes, octopus weiners, rice balls, and fried pork cutlets. "Wow, you made all this?" Inuyasha asked. "I had a little help from my Mom," Kagome admitted. "I just thought that maybe you could use a change from eating instant ramen, every day." Inuyasha shrugged. He didn't really have a problem with eating his daily cup of instant ramen...but then again, even that could get boring, now and then. Besides, Kagome did go through all this trouble of fixing this lunch box for him. The least he could do was at least try a bite. So, he sat down, took a pair of chopsticks and took a bite out of the tamagoyaki first...and the moment he did, all of a sudden, he found himself shoveling every morsel he could into his mouth while Kagome sat down beside him, giggling at his ravenous appetite. "I guess it's safe to say you like it, huh?" she asked. "Mm-hmm!" Inuyasha nodded. "How come you never eat my homecooked meals for you like that?" Sango asked as she looked at Miroku, who gulped. "Uhh...well...about that," Miroku said, nervously. "Y-you see, the thing is...I, err..." "Well? What are you trying to say?" Sango inquired. "That I'm a terrible cook?" Inuyasha snorted while Kagome glanced off to the side, an embarrassed blush forming on her face. "Kagome, you don't think my cooking is terrible, do you?" Sango asked. "...Well..." Kagome muttered. "Umm..." 'I can't just tell her that the last time I ate something she made, I ended up in the bathroom for almost 6 hours...!' XXX

12:12 PM. Empty trays and bento boxes were the only sign of a finished meal. The two couples remained on the roof, staring up at the sky. Miroku leaned against the wall with Sango, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders while Inuyasha lied on his back with his arms behind his head and Kagome lied with her head on his stomach, her hands folded over her own abdominal area. There were so few clouds these days. Hardly provided any shade, but...they didn't mind. It was still beautiful to look at. "So, Inuyasha?" Kagome asked. "Yeah?" Inuyasha asked. "What are you doing for summer break?" Kagome inquired. "Oh...I dunno," Inuyasha replied. "My parents and I are probably gonna go to our summer house for a few weeks." "The one in Hokkaido, right?" asked Miroku. "That's the only one we have," Inuyasha answered. "You ought to know. You've been there." "Yeah, only once," Miroku pointed out. "What are you going to do, Kagome?" Sango asked. "Oh, I don't know," Kagome replied. "I'll probably just stay home for most of the summer. Maybe go to a festival later." "That sounds fun!" Sango added. "You know, my Dad got me a new kimono for summer! Maybe you and I could go, together!" "And don't forget me, right, love?" Miroku asked. "...You, I'm still skeptical about," Sango quipped, causing Miroku to drop his jaw while Inuyasha snickered. "She's got your number, Miroku," he said, causing his best friend to sneer at him. "Haha, very funny," Miroku said, sarcastically. "What are you doing for summer, Miroku?" asked Kagome. "Oh, you know," Miroku said. "This and that." "By which he means trying to pick up chicks," Inuyasha retorted, prompting Miroku to toss his empty milk carton at his forehead. "Ow!" "Oops! Did I do that?" Miroku asked, feigning innocence, causing Inuyasha to growl at him, but then Kagome gently reached up, took his left ear betwixt her thumb and index finger, and began to tenderly rub the fuzzy appendage, causing Inuyasha to sigh softly, a soft rumble reverberating in his chest, which made Kagome giggle at the feeling. "That better?" she asked. "Thanks, baby," Inuyasha said, locking his smoldering golden eyes with her chocolate brown orbs. Kagome sat up on her elbows before she crawled over to Inuyasha's face, prompting him to prop himself up, too, chuckling darkly as he gently cupped Kagome's face. "How'd you get to be so cute?" "It's a gift," Kagome shrugged...before she soon wrapped her lips around his, causing him to moan softly in her mouth as he pulled her close. Taking this as their cue to leave, Miroku and Sango glanced at each other before they smiled and promptly took the exit. Kagome moaned quietly, her hands gripping Inuyasha's shoulders while he let his hands roam down her back and her nice, slender curves, one hand slowly reaching under her skirt. That's when Kagome squeaked as she felt a set of claws slipping under her panties and squeezing her right butt cheek. Not long after, she pulled away, giving the half-demon a sultry grin. "Naughty doggy," she said. "I don't know any other way to be," Inuyasha smirked while Kagome lowered herself down, laying a trail of kisses down from his jaw to the base of his neck. "Ohhhh...ohh, yeah, right there, baby...!" Another giggle bubbled from Kagome's throat. "You like that, huh?" she asked. "What do you think?" Inuyasha inquired, his crooked grin widening, showing off a glinting fang that he knew Kagome hated because it turned her on so bad. "That's not fair," she said with a playful pout. "You know that I can't resist that." "I know, that's why I do it," Inuyasha replied before they started to kiss, again. "Mmm..." Kagome moaned as she momentarily pulled away squeezed her body up against his. "You know what'll be nice about summer break?" "What?" Inuyasha asked. "We could have more moments like this," Kagome answered as she rubbed her nose up against his. "You and me, alone...together..." "Yeah..." Inuyasha drawled as he brought her lips against his, his right hand gently brushing up into her hair. He pulled away again just to bury his nose in those luscious charcoal locks...to breathe in and drink her intoxicating scent of roses, mint tea, and vanilla. God, he just loved this smell... He loved her. Her body, her eyes, her smile, her personality, her scent...everything. How in the hell did he ever get so lucky?

Pretty hot, right? And we’re only gettin’ started!

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #inuyasha x kagome #just us two #miroku x sango #mirsan

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dororo-imagines-blog · 6 years

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Flame

Hyakkimaru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Request: YasYassssss!! May i ask for an imagine where he meets a chubby s/o? Thank u

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A/n: Hi ily. Thank you for being my first request (im gonna cherish tf out of you <3 <3 <3). I hope this is up to par with you!!

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Genre: Romance Rated: Everyone Warning: Fluff

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Author: Dororo-Imagines

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There were many souls that surrounded him. The souls of the animals that ventured in the woods, the water, and the sky. He could see objects because of the manifestation of energy they held, whether spiritual or natural. Moreover, he could see the souls of the people who stayed near him.

The young boy, Dororo, had a very bright soul. He was filled with wonder for the world and happiness, and Hyakkimaru enjoyed the boys’ presence. After all, he was the first one to ever stay by his side other than Jukai of course. Biwamaru, the strange priest, had a soul that was dimmer than Dororo’s, but burned with a determination that he could admire deeply.

(Y/n)’s was a whole different story.

Their soul burned brighter than any soul he had come across, and he enjoyed looking at it, admiring that no matter what obstacle they encountered, their soul never dimmed.

While he couldn’t hear what (Y/n) would say to him, Hyakkimaru could sense it. He could sense the greetings that would fall from their lips, the intent of their words reflected upon their soul. Perhaps that was what made Hyakkimaru addicted to their presence.

Soft fingers ran through his hair, and if Hyakkimaru could hum in delight, he would. However, he simply pushed his head into the delicate fingers, silently demanding that (Y/n) continued their ministrations. Hyakkimari felt (Y/n)’s hand shake with laughter before they continued, and the man closed his eyes.

-READER POV-

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Hyakkimaru pushed his head into your hands, his head tilting back just the slightest. You didn’t know why he was so clingy towards you, but you appreciated it nonetheless. It was the first time anybody had ever demanded, so to speak, to be in your presence. After all, you weren’t exactly the picture-perfect woman.

Only royals and nobles had big bodies, their seemingly endless money and reputation allowing them the luxury of food not many had. Despite you being a common peddler, you were blessed with hands that could cultivate the earth better than any farmer. Perhaps you were selfish, having often gorged yourself on the food you would harvest. Though, could anybody blame you?

You weren’t of noble blood nor were you a royal. Food was hard to come by, and you had plenty to spare you two winters. Why wouldn’t you allow yourself the luxury of food? Nevertheless, you had always been a pretty chubby person. Your mother used to joke about how people used to think you were actually a toddler from how big you were as a baby!

A soft pat on your knee jolted you from your thoughts, and you realized that you had stopped playing with Hyakkimaru’s hair. His eyes were on you, looking at you from over his shoulder, and you simply smiled.

“Sorry, Hyakkimaru. I got lost in thought.”

He simply turned back around, and you sighed slightly. Biwamaru commented softly, his blind eyes staring into the fire.

“You are troubled, my dear. What is ailing you?”

You blushed in embarrassment, your fingers beginning to take out the braid you had done in Hyakkimaru’s hair.

“Do you think I am unusually big for a commoner, Biwamaru?”

The man chuckled, pointing out.

“I cannot see physique, my dear. I only see souls...though, if that is what you are concerned about, I promise you that bigger people are much more prized than regular people. It means that you are either wealthy or of noble blood...or you are gifted in the art of agriculture.”

You sighed, biting your lip. When you finally brought the braid out from Hyakkimaru’s hair, your fingers began to scratch at his head, causing him to finally adjust himself to where his head was seated in your lap. You blushed before smiling softly. However, your troubled thoughts began to swim within your head again, and you asked the Priest as you gently brushed the hair from Hyakkimaru’s face.

“Do you think I am selfish for keeping the food I grew to myself instead of giving it to those who needed it more than I did?”

Biwamaru chuckled once more, raising a hand in the air.

“I do not think so. I think you are human.”

You hummed before sighing, looking down at Hyakkimaru. His eyes were closed, but you enjoyed them nonetheless. Biwamaru hummed.

“I see. You are insecure because you are in love with Hyakkimaru.”

You gasped and paused your ministrations, not noticing Hyakkimaru open his eyes up at you.

“That’s not true!”

“Aye, but your soul says differently. It burns the brightest when it is near him. When you are apart, it becomes like a quiet flame, only burning enough for others to see but never to navigate through your being. With Hyakkimaru, you allow him to see through you.”

You were blushing heavily, and you simply asked.

“Don’t tease me like this, Biwamaru. It’s quite embarrassing.”

He simply chuckled before laying down, waving a hand through the air.

“In time, you will see.”

You huffed and all became quiet. Hyakkimaru’s hand slowly came up to your face, and you sighed slightly.

“Do not worry, Hyakkimaru. Everything is alright.”

He sat up and turned towards you, grabbing your face between his hands, and you blushed. Hyakkimaru pushed you to him, pressing your face into his shoulder as he hugged you, and you felt your jaw drop. Hyakkimaru definitely wasn’t an affectionate person, so this was a very startling moment. However, your shock slowly melted and your arms wrapped around Hyakkimaru’s waist, your face burying itself into his shoulder.

His hand began to run through your hair, his fingers gently scratching at the nape of your neck, and you widened your eyes, feeling touched. Was your ministrations to his hair comforting to him that he believed that it would be the same for you?

You simply murmured, hugging him just a bit tighter.

“Thank you, Hyakkimaru.”

His chin fell onto your shoulder gently, and you sighed softly. Hyakkimaru let you go, grabbing your hand and placing it upon his head, and you chuckled, feeling much better. You scratched his head, and the boy closed his eyes. Smiling softly, you began to play with his hair once more.

Placing his head in your lap once more, he slowly fell asleep, his hand holding your unoccupied one. Once more, your soul began to burn as bright as it usually did and Hyakkimaru couldn’t help but smile softly before falling under.

[END]

Tagging: @princesscrazy17

#Hyakkimaru #Reader #Hyakkimaru x Reader #Hyakkimaru Imagine #Imagine

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roger1na · 5 years

Text

careful ch6 - john deacon x reader

summary: you are a ballet student at the royal ballet academy. To pay for your tuition, you work part-time at the celebrity gossip magazine, Seven. One fateful day you’re sent to interview a band on the rise, Queen, post-concert and fall in love with the sweetest man on the planet.

word count: 2.8k+

warnings: swearing

author's note: it's over 16k now, i'm legally allowed to call it a slowburn :,). aa i've had so much fun with all of this writing and this series wow thank u for all the sweet comments<3. also i know -15% about swan lake so it's probably hideous to read about that. (i tagged some people who didn't ask, so if u want to be untagged just shoot me a message).

[ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5] [ch6] [ch7] [ch8]

chapter six

The alarm pierced the silence of friday morning at 5am. You snoozed it groggily and buried your face into your pillow. You hadn’t slept properly at all. With the nerves of the show and the nerves of the promise you’d made to John.

“You didn’t pick up on the subtext that I’m definitely kissing you the next time I see you?”

You hadn’t kissed anybody in years. And back then, it was probably totally different. Maybe nowadays they wanted only tongue. Sometimes you slipped a glance at whatever your co-workers were righting. Kissing and sex were at the top of the list of celebrity scandals and sometimes they terrified you. What the hell was the world doing?

A piercing call made you jump. It wasn’t your alarm, but your phone ringing in the living room. The floorboards were cold as you raced barefooted to answer it.

“Y/N!” Rose shrieked in your ear as soon as you. You winced and held the phone further from yourself.

“Rose, what the fuck.” You groaned annoyed.

“She broke her leg!”

Your mind was struggling to connect the dots. Everything was hazy in the morning and you just really wanted some coffee.

“She broke it. It snapped in half like a fucking twig.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Frances! The prima!”

Slowly, the pieces were beginning to fit together. “What happened to her?”

“Freak accident! She was hit while driving. Or being driven around like the spoi-”

“Rose! She’s injured!”

“Oh yeah! You know what that means don’t you?”

“Rose you’re going to have to stop with the guessing games, I just woke up,” you mumbled and rubbed your forehead.

Rose shrieked on the other end impatiently. “Y/N you don’t get it. You’re the understudy.”

The phone slipped out of your hand as your arms went numb. Holy shit, you thought. If the original prima was unavailable, you’d be the one dancing. You were going to dance as Odette. That was your moment. It took a few seconds and then you screamed.

“Rose! I’m going to be dancing as a prima!” You were jumping around in hysterics. Then you paused for a moment and picked up the phone. “You didn’t have anything to do with the accident, did you?”

Rose giggled. “Of course not.”

“How come you’re the one calling me, not the studio or the teachers?”

“You never gave your number to the studio. I think half your documents are missing, you really need to get your shit in order. You’re going to be prima.”

“I’m going to be a prima!”

“Yes! Now get ready you dumbass, you’ve got a crowd to win over!”

You hopped around in excitement a bit more until you rushed to shower and get dressed. The sun was slowly peeking from the horizon and you grinned at your reflection in the mirror. Adrenaline coursed through your veins. It’d all been worth it. All of it.

London was only rising when you stepped into the musty tube carriage. Drunks coming home from nights slept away from their own beds and people in similar situations like yours, where work and life just started early. You flipped through a stranded newspaper, relieved that you didn’t find your own name among the pages.

You thought about John and how proud he’d be when he’d see you. He didn’t know about the news. Would he recognize you with heavy show make up and an tight bun? Would he wear a t-shirt and jeans combination? What did he know about ballet? Nerves coiled in your stomach, but you let them be. It was your day.

Across the city in a tiny student flat, John Deacon lay awake. He had tossed and turned all night thinking of you, your dance and your promise. He followed the cracks in the paint on the ceiling with his eyes, eyes tired but mind not letting him sleep.

The fact was, John Deacon had fallen in love. With your absent-minded gaze and with your babbling. With the way you stared off at him when you thought he couldn’t see. With the perfect way your palm fit into his. With the way your voice made him want to write a thousand embarrassing and poor quality love songs. And as he breathed and lay awake and pondered the great mysteries of the universe, he was brought back to the first night you had met.

Your eyes had glinted in the multicoloured lights of the show and you had been so mesmerised by the act on stage. And when you knocked on their dressing room door with confidence, John had almost felt apprehensive towards you. Like every interviewer, you were going to spin your own story without listening to them. But then you talked and listened and laughed at his jokes and suddenly the light caught your hair in a new glow and John came to love the confident interviewer in you. Not stuck up, not cruel and not fake. Just confident.

He loved how you let life take you but didn’t stand for its bullshit. How you were so vocal about issues in the workplace and misogyny in dancing and the issues in falling in love with an art and a person at the same time.

Overall, he just loved you. And sometimes it felt so stupid, so foolish to lie awake and dream of your peachy lips and rose scent but today of all days, the butterflies felt good. They felt promising.

The day wore on. With little sleep he walked to the studio, enjoying the fresh air and trying to ignore the growing fog in his mind. The boys couldn’t stop yelling today. He just sat in the corner, pouring over his notes for the song that you suggested he write.

It was called Misfire and it was exactly what it sounded like. He laughed when he thought about how you’d react to the lyrics. How you’d have a hesitant smirk at first, and then you’d be bouncing to the music, like the little ball of joy u were. Along the margins, he’d scrawled notes for another song he wasn’t quite ready to pull together. Words like sunshine, and my best friend jumped out from the messy handwriting, but otherwise it was almost illegible.

“He’s got her show today,” Freddie whispered over coffee. Brian and Roger were giving each other the silent treatment over Dear Friends and John was silent in the corner, scribbling his notes down. “Do you think he’s writing her a love song?” He continued.

“What, Deaky?” Brian looked up from his cup. “He doesn’t seem the type. His first song for Queen being a love song.”

“Bri’s right. He’ll write something silly. He’s like that.” Roger added. The argument diffused as fast as it had started. “You forget he’s only twenty two.”

“Twenty three in two weeks, right?”

“Yeah.”

They all looked at him simultaneously. John felt their stares and looked up, flashing a gap-toothed smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” they all replied in unison.

“You excited about seeing Y/N today? Do you need a suit?”

“Freddie,” John rolled his eyes and snapped his notebook shut. “I have a suit. The funky checkered and white one.”

“Aw,” Brian leaned on his hands. “Will Y/N like it?”

“Shut up, you all,” John walked over and took his coffee, black with one sugar, and took a sip. “I’m perfectly capable of going to see a ballet on my own. No need to be babied.”

“But you’re so small!” Roger grinned but John gave him a death glare.

“Bring her roses,” Freddie advised him. “You always give roses to a ballerina after a performance.”

“Gee, Freddie, you seem to know so much, why don’t you go instead? Kiss her for me as well.” John stuck his tongue out.

“You’re going to kiss her? John that’s first base!” Brian teased.

“I hate you all.” John groaned.

“We love you too,” they replied in unison once more.

“And she’s going to love you too,” Freddie grinned.

After an exhausting day of teasing for John and training for you, evening was drawing nearer. The girls were all in one room, putting glitter and makeup on each other’s faces and brushing up hair into tight buns.

“Y/N’s man is coming over today,” Rose told a girl who was dancing next to her, a she was applying mascara.

“Rose,” you warned her slightly.

“Ooh, who is it?” The girl, Pamela, blinked fast, adjusting to the mascara.

“This guy, he’s called John.” You mumbled, incredibly flustered suddenly.

“John Deacon.”

“Who the hell is that?” Beverly, the girl who danced as Odile asked.

“Only the bassist of Queen.” Rose bragged.

“Rose! Shut up, we’re barely dating.”

Rose mouthed, it’s because she’s a prude behind your back and the rest of the girls giggled.

“Well, Y/N, I hope your man can behave at a ballet show, if he’s from a rock band.” Pamela pumped her brows up a bit.

“He’s great! Calm, sweet, but so energetic.” You told them.

“Fantastic.” Beverly clapped her hands together. “I hope he’ll enjoy our show.”

“And what comes after it,” Rose teased. You frowned at her but didn’t reply. The bustling of the crowd outside was finally heard through the walls of the dressing room. Some children, younger siblings and all that, parents, boyfriends, girlfriends, dedicated friends all walking into the auditorium with an excited buzz.

Among them was John, fiddling nervously with a bouquet he’d bought for you. Red roses, almost blooming. He hoped they’d last through the show. Some people did a double take when they saw him, perplexed not only by his imposing height but also his long hair. A young girl came up and asked for an autograph, scribbled on the program they were handed at the entrance.

The auditorium was huge. Seats for maybe thousands. He elbowed his way to the front rows, hoping to have the best view of your dance. You’d told him you were dancing in the background with your friends Rose and Pamela and that when you wore identical makeup, it was almost impossible to separate you, except by Rose’s red locks. He had promised you he’d be able to recognize you among clones and you had playfully shoved him on the shoulder, although you were very happy.

The lights dimmed and the show started, delicate beginning notes being played on the piano. And then the main character he was told was called Odette danced on stage.

His breath stilled. It was you. You with your tight stage bun and glimmering makeup, so strong you were almost unrecognizable. But it definitely was you. You danced with a sorrow in your step. He was told that the story was really quite sad, and he saw it in your mourning movements.

You were so graceful, he couldn’t help but be in awe that he was so lucky to have you. Occasionally, when the music turned to a minor key and the dance turned into sadness and pain, he felt tears brimming in his eyes. When Freddie gushed about ballet, he had been skeptical at whether it was truly possible to convey such intense emotions through dance, but when he saw you in action, all his doubts dissipated.

You received a standing ovation. Well, from John. Everybody was clapping heartily, having enjoyed the show. Some people had stood up with John, others were wiping their eyes. Some children had already began an excited gabble to their parents about the show.

John beat the crowd outside, managed to get to the front of the buzzing people. He couldn’t stop his grin. He heard the girls chattering to themselves on the other side. Somebody screamed in joy and everybody laughed.

You were only separated by a pair of sturdy oak doors and a dimly lit hallway where at the end every dancer was cursing their sore legs and undoing tight hairdos. Rose helped to take out all your pins and you did the same for her whilst gushing in excitement.

“That went really well, don’t you think?” You smiled at her as she tried to to remove some of the glitter plastered on your face, with little success.

“I think so, yes,” she paused for a moment, tilting your head back to get some of the stuff off your neck. “Did you see him?”

You looked at her and smiled. “Well, uh no, not really, I got so caught in the stage and the motion and the music. But I felt him, y’know? Like, his dopey grin just shone to me.”

“Aw, Y/N’s been turned into a sap,” Beverly joked, pulling on a sweater and trousers.

“Excuse me, you would too, if you were around him.”

“I wish I had someone,” Pamela wiped off her lipstick and grimaced.

Rose looked at her quickly, flushed a bright red only you noticed and then turned back to you, smiling sheepishly, saying nothing. You studied her face and caught her eye but didn’t say anything.

“You ready?” She whispered as you glanced in the mirror one more time before nodding and leaving the dressing room.

The chatter was becoming more obvious the more you neared the exit. Pushing the heavy doors open, a pang of hot air hit your face and then you were out and you heard the excitement and the little children and your eyes were searching the crowd.

When you saw him, with his lopsided bowtie and gorgeous red roses he was holding, your heart stopped. He was grinning, ear to ear, flushed with pride. John thought you were so beautiful, breathtaking, with your hair just taken down from a tight stage bun, show make up still glimmering slightly on your face.

Cupid twisted the arrow he’d embedded into your heart and common sense was thrown out of the window. The feeling of being in love embraced you and left your heart soaring. Nothing could stop you as you ran up to him and before he could open his mouth to congratulate you, you took his face in your hands and on tiptoes you kissed him, slightly missing the center of his lips but hitting the mark all the same.

He kissed back, almost dropping the roses. It wasn’t ferocious or possessive, it was sweet. He tasted of cigarettes and red wine and the smell of his cologne flooded your nose. It was like a dance, synchronised, almost practiced. It was perfect, passionate and soft.

When you pulled away, slightly out of breath, he was starstruck, eyes shining. “Wow, I-” he blinked and laughed. “If I got a kiss everytime I went to your shows, I would’ve come sooner.” You giggled and took the roses.

“Thank you.” People were staring, but you didn’t care. “Really, it means a lot.” He was still grinning like an idiot and you were sure the same grin graced your face, eyes squinting, nose wrinkly, all in the glory of being in love.

He giggled then he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours. “You were so amazing dancing, I kept thinking I know her. You’re my favourite celebrity.”

"Oh, I'm hardly a celebrity," you laughed, blushing.

He handed you the roses after one more kiss and you marveled at how good they smelled. He had held them so close to him that part of his cologne had gotten stuck to it as well, and you revelled in the scent.

More people came up and congratulated you, a bit intimidated by John’s presence but happy for you all the same. A small child ran into you for a hug and gushed about you being their favourite princess. He was pulled away from you by embarrassed parents.

After the crowd had cleared a bit, John laced his fingers with yours. “Can I take you out to dinner?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him softly and on your tiptoes, kissed his cheek. You felt like you were in the best place. Warm and comfortable with his hand in yours, his hair tickling your face as he leaned down and whispered more compliments to you about the performance to you.

He lead you out, where the evening had darkened to night, making jokes and acting like the happiest man on earth.

“John?”

“Yes love?”

“Thank you,” you grinned as his eyes found yours and sparkled.

“What for?”

“For the roses. And the kiss. You’re a great kisser.”

“Oh?”

You nodded with a serious expression.

“Well, I’m not actually really sure how I think of you as a kisser, can I kiss you again? Just to be sure?”

You giggled and let him softly cup your face with his hands and lean down to kiss you gently. He pulled away fast and had a mockingly thoughtful expression on his face and he smacked his lips. “Hm, I’m not quite sure yet,” he teased before leaning down again. You giggled into the kiss, arms wrapping around him.

Your heart fluttered, but not from nervousness or confusing feelings which had been far too present for the past three weeks. Your heart was fluttering because you were in love and you were happy and okay with it. You were more than okay with it. You loved it.

***

@fourmisfits @deakysgirl @im-happy-at-home @obsessedwithrogertaylor @itsametaphorbriansblog @rhapso-kei @deacontaylormaymercury @queenmylovely @imgonnabeyourslave @weirdestmentalityphilosopher @thefatbottomedmay @heyyyyyyyleykiyoko @brujademente @painkiller80

#john deacon #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #deacy #deaky #john deacon x reader #joe!deaky #joe!john deacon x reader #joe!john x reader #joe!john deacon #joe!john #careful - jd #aa this part was sooo fun to write #but i wrote the kiss scene waaayyyy back #when it was still snowy outside actually #it just so happened i had inspo and i wrote it down so i wouldn't forget #so yeah #idk i had fun woohoo it only gets better now we can get to the real angst

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discovertheworldbeforeitend · 5 years

Text

Love is a flower that needs a lot of care to blossom - Pt.2

@millie-likes-art , was a major inspiration for this part. Thank you for your lovely tags! I hope you enjoy this small token of gratitude. This is also for my best friend @the-princey-pie

~*~

You might think that a house itself would be unable to make any sounds. It would only be logical, as it is an inanimate object and therefore unable to move. Well, you are very wrong. The older the house, the more restless it appears to become. That is at least the lesson the young dwarf learned after living in Granny Blossom’s house for years. The wood is alive, Meg told him one day. He went to Illuminata last summer after he noticed some of the huge wood planks splitting in two. Afraid the house would break down after all these years he hurried to the clever elf and asked what he should do to avoid such catastrophe. Said elf just laughed at his “antics”. Didn’t he know that the wood in the house was secured by metal? Didn’t he know that wood was alive and moved with the seasons? Well, he didn’t know then, but she helped so he would never forget. Stupid detective… Bloody know-it-all.

And so, it came that the red-headed dwarf lied on his bed with his head stuffed underneath a pillow to silence the noises around him. He could hear Granny walking around, every step of hers made the wooden floor creak and groan. During the day the weather shifted. The sunny spring day turned into a cold fall-like evening. Wind was howling through the small street and disturbed his much-wanted peace. Didn’t the world know how much he loathed loud noises when he tried to think? Not that anybody would care. His ears perked up and he noticed the wind had stopped. A smile crept on his face when a loud explosion made him flinch. Heavy rain followed and Doug was again engulfed in the noise of nature running its course. He hated it.

“Doug?”

And his last hope for silence was ripped from him. But he couldn’t be angry about that. Not after today, not about Granny. He would never be angry at her.

“Yes?” He answered and got up from his bed and left his solitude.

“Ah, there you are! Would you mind lending me a hand?” She said and her hand waved him towards the kitchen. She was still putting plates and cutlery on the table. Doug nodded and walked to the kitchen, watching carefully for anything that might be amiss. But being the blind idiot, he was, he could not see anything wrong.

Apparently, Granny knew him too well, as she followed him quickly in the kitchen.

“I cannot reach the upper closet. I need some herbs from there. The ones in the red box. I tried to grab them but missed them and it seems I pushed them further to the back.”

Doug saw the door of the closet was still open and tried to reach the box. He could see the outline of the bright red box and his fingers brushed the wooden surface of it but he too was not tall enough. Anger and Embarrassment boiled in his veins and his cheeks reddened. Without commenting it he grabbed a wobbly chair. Cautiously, he stood on the poor excuse of a chair and grabbed the box. The chair was moving under him and he quickly jumped on the floor. A huge smile decorated his face as he proudly presented the red wooden box to Granny.

“Thank you so much, my dear! What would I do without you?” She said and patted his cheek. Usually he hated such affectionate behaviour, but after today, he felt something warm spread in his chest.

“I don’t mind helping you.” He answered and his cheeks were still beet red.

He turned and wanted to go back to his room, when Granny told him that dinner was nearly ready. “Could you go downstairs and get some juice? Porco had some delicious juice last time I went there and Dylas was so kind to save some for me. I put it on the counter.”

He nodded and went downstairs.

His mind couldn’t stop repeating her words. He didn’t really know what to think about Granny’s new-found adoration of Dylas. It annoyed him that she thought so highly of him. Maybe he was just jealous of him because he didn’t think of getting some of Granny’s favourite juice from the restaurant? He quickly grabbed the bottle and went back upstairs.

A delicious smell surrounded the upper basement and his mouth watered. He could smell rice and salmon onigiri. His eyes quickly searched the table for it and he had to smile when he saw the little rice balls.

“I got the juice, Granny!” He said and put the bottle on the table.

“Ah, great timing! I need some help getting this to the table!” Her voice came from the kitchen and Doug followed it.

He saw what she talked about when he entered it. Granny tried to lift a huge pot from the stove. The old lady was struggling under the weight of it, sweat pooling on her face, her brows frowning in concentration. He grabbed some cloths and replaced her hands with his. He would never admit it, be the pot wasn’t that light, even for him. He heaved it from the stove and carried it to the table. He placed it on the carefully arranged placemat before bringing the rest of their dinner to the table.

Granny helped him even though he told her, she could sit down already.

When they both were finally seated, he quickly scanned the table. Granny went all out today it seemed. Onigiri, salad, fried rice, baked yams, boiled spinach and gravy as well as his favourite, tempura, was laid out for him to enjoy.

“Wow, Granny! I didn’t know that we were celebrating.” He teased.

“Oh, I just felt like it.” Granny said, a healthy flush on her face.

“Let’s tuck in then!” Doug said happily and after a nod from Granny, he did.

When Granny finished her dinner, Doug had just begun his third portion. The old lady had to smile. Watching Doug enjoying the food she cooked brought her endless joy. She had such a luck with him. She remembered how he held her when he had his break down today. Her heart broke when she saw the hopelessness in his otherwise beaming eyes. She would help him coping with the death of his family. She wouldn’t watch him waste away.

Doug seemed to catch her pensive expression and was reminded of todays events as well. Shame and embarrassment flooded through him and his cheeks heated. He looked down on his plate, too shy to face Granny.

After their hug, he ran in his room and stayed there. She could hear his sobs and nearly felt his pain as she sat in her own room and contemplated their situation.

“I am so proud of you Doug. I hope you know that.” She began. Doug looked up in surprise.

“Why?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Because you are here, with me. And that wasn’t easy for you. And I don’t know if I know anyone who would be able to live through the hardship that you had to face in your life, and still be so full of emotion like you are.”

He couldn’t look in her eyes then. Tears welling up in his eyes and he was afraid they would drop if he looked at her.

“But what now?” He croaked. His voice thick with emotions.

“What should I do now? Where should I go? I am lost.” He continues and swallows his tears.

“What helped you cope back then?”

He thought back to the years in the army. The pain, the lies.

“They told me so many lies. I was made to believe that I could revenge their death, and then the pain would go away. They made me believe that if I could be the best fighter, I could bring justice to the supposed enemy, and by that find peace.”

“So, they taught you to focus your pain and loss onto some target and solve it with aggression and the promise it would lessen the pain?” She said and tried to calm herself or she would be unable to stop her tears.

Doug nodded and reached for his drink. His throat was drying up and he felt he couldn’t speak anymore.

“Well, you projected all your pain and sorrow on to Lady Ventuswill. It might be helpful to straighten things out with her. Maybe you will be able to move forward then?” Granny suggested, her eye brows were pulled together, her forehead wrinkled like the sea on a stormy day.

Doug shrugged his shoulders, too far out of his depth to do anything else. His mind was blank, and he was desperately trying to avoid the gloomy pictures of his past to replace it.

Granny reached for her drink as well and the room fell silent again.

“Don’t you think that talking to her might be useless? I mean, I apologized already.” He muttered after some minutes.

“Well, do you still feel ashamed when you think about the situation?” She asked matter-of-factly. Doug nodded sheepishly. Granny raised her eye brows.

“What do you want me to do then?” His voice climbed up a few octaves, a mere whisper.

“I want you to be happy.” She said easily.

Doug rolled his eyes and balled his fists on the table. He tried to control his anger and had to force his mouth shut. His teeth made a sickening sound as they ground against each other.

“And how should I accomplish that?” His voice was even quieter than before. He barely opened his mouth, too focused on his anger control. He knew he was easily triggered, and he didn’t want his control slipping from him. Again.

Granny had to control herself too. Seeing her little boy like that, his face flushed, and his fists balled, trying everything to stop himself from lashing out, her heart swelled in her chest. She loved this boy. Nobody could ever understand why, she knew the people in the town wonder why she puts up with him every day. But it was moments like this one, when she saw through his façade and caught a glimpse of the caring and loving boy, she knew he was. She would never give him up, not like the Empire did. She would help him find his way back to his old self. The self that was currently buried under years of neglect and pain.

“Try to look at it from a different perspective, Doug. If you were feeling like that because of a situation that involved me, what would you do?” She said softly, her voice a gentle caress.

His head jerked up and their eyes met. His eyes big and shining with unshed tears.

“I would never- I couldn’t. Granny you have to believe me, I would never do some- “he croaked, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Oh, Doug! Don’t worry, I would never think you would do something like that to me.” She soothed him and grabbed his shaking hand.

“But, what would you do if we had a misunderstanding of some kind?” She continued.

“I guess, I would try to speak with you and apologize.”

“And if you still feel bad even though you talked with me about it?” She continued and watched Doug pondering her question.

“I guess, I would try to make it up to you. Buy you your favourite flowers, take you to the beach, buy your favourite food, things like that.” He said.

“Yes, that saved you a lot of times from trouble.” She laughed and remembered the lovely gestures of love and gratitude that Doug presented to her with a sheepish smile on his lip and muttered apology.

Suddenly, the boy jumped up. The chair flipped to the ground and the decked table rattled.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Pancakes?” She repeated, confusion clear on her face.

“Ventuswill! She adores pancakes! I will cook her some pancakes and go to her! She will have to forgive me then, right?” His voice as excited as before. He was still standing, his eyes beaming and a proud smile gracing his lips.

“That’s a wonderful idea, love!” She said and laughed when he flushed again.

#doug rune factory #dougxdylas #dylasxdoug #rf4 doug #rune factory 4 #fanfiction #rf4 fanfiction #dylas rune factory #rf4 dylas #dylas #fandom #rf4 fandom #fanfic #dougxdylas fanfic #dougxdylas fanfiction #Lia writes

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ok-but-what-about-connor · 5 years

Text

Wake Up

Words: 1647

Pairing: Platonic Ralbert, if that counts

Warnings: Gets pretty angsty at one point, mentions of past abuse

((This all takes place sometime before the strike/musical plot))

~~~ = time skip

In the Manhattan lodging house, it wasn't uncommon to see newsies sharing beds together. Many situations, at any given time of the year, would have newsies piling on top of each other and pushing for room beneath the blankets. They couldn't care less about what others thought of it, because at the end of the day, they were all just exhausted kids who needed to get some rest. Rest, plus just an extra bit of love. That was important too.

~~~~~~~

"Heads up!" Jojo, who had been innocently trying to get some shut-eye, had no time to prepare himself before Romeo was being tossed in the air by Race and Finch and landing on top of him. Jojo coughed out a groan into his pillow before rolling onto his back. Romeo, still having not moved off of Jojo, grinned widely. Jojo was lucky the little bugger was lightweight, otherwise he would have knocked all the air out of him. Both Race and Finch beamed with the same mischievous faces.

"Didja all collectively decide today was Use-Romeo-As-a-Projectile-To-Throw-At-Jojo Day?" He grumbled, but couldn't help laughing.

"Romeo only wanted to tell you 'bout his day, 's all." Finch replied. Jojo raised an eyebrow and flicked his gaze back to the short boy, who nodded excitedly.

"Oh alright, but get offa me first." He ordered.

Romeo must not have anticipated how tired he actually was, because he had barely finished explaining how he found a flock of chickens running rampant on the streets before he talked himself to sleep, snoring loudly beside Jojo. Jojo just laughed. It wasn't the first time.

~~~~~~~

"Jack, I'm gonna need you ta take a couple of the littles outta my hair." Albert whispered. A tiny newsboy was curled up in both of his arms. Despite them being asleep, they shivered from the cold.

"I already have my own to deal with, Al." Jack said as he gestured to the two littles snoozing next to him. Albert rolled his eyes, but his face remained serious.

"You'se actin' like there ain't more ova at mine. That cot's overflowin' with kids. They were clinging to the mattress just ta stay on, the seven of them."

Jack snorted quietly. " 'S cause you're warmer than the sun."

"Jack."

"Alright, alright. Hand 'em over." He shifted so his arms were above the blanket rather than under the heads of sleeping littles. Albert handed his two over carefully without waking either of them. A true talent.

"Thanks a bunch, Jackie." Albert murmured before returning to his respective cot. As Jack followed him with his eyes, he could see that Albert indeed had hardly any room to squeeze himself onto. Jack sighed and massaged at his hand that had recently fallen asleep from the kids laying on it for so long.

Most of the time, Jack slept through the night just fine when kids were with him, because he had become so used to it, but tonight he stirred from a tight feeling on his chest. He craned his neck to see that, instead of having four newsies with him, the number somehow accumulated to six. The two new ones, both girls, were piled on his chest and making it rather hard for him to breathe, but he pulled them closer and tugged on the blanket to make sure they didn't freeze. All in a night's work.

~~~~~~~

Race was just beginning to drift off when a noise pulled him from his almost-dream. It was a noise different from that of ruffling bed sheets or the average snoring, although Race couldn't put a finger on what it was. It came from the fire escape, trailing in through the opened window. He strained his ears, listening for another sound, trying to find out if it was a possible intruder, a boy leaving the lodging house when he shouldn't be, a stray cat that had clambered up onto the platform, or anything else he could possibly anticipate. That's when he heard it.

A shaky sob, barely audible, sounded out.

Race had not anticipated that.

Slowly, Race got out of bed and crept over to the window. He was concerned, but still wary of embarrassing the person. He wasn't about to let them sit out there by themself though. Outside, there was a boy curled up on the fire escape with his face buried in his arms. Race couldn't tell who it was for a moment, until one shift of the boy's posture revealed bright red hair visible in the moonlight. Oh.

"Albert," Race whispered, "God..."

The impact from Race's feet jarred the platform, but he didn't care. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious how much Albert was shaking. His whole body looked uncomfortably stiff as well, like he was in a permanent state of waiting to take a punch.

"Albert? What's wrong?" Race frowned nervously as he crouched down to be eye level with him. Albert didn't move.

"Come on Al. 'S me, Racetrack." Race waited for a reaction. Albert's shoulders had stopped shaking, but his restrained sobs could still be heard. Great, now he was just holding back feelings. That's not what Race nor Albert needed at all.

"You ain't Racer. Get away from me." Albert's voice was thick and tremulous. It was so out of character that it caused Race's stomach to grow heavy with fear.

"It's me, Albie. Look at me, please. It's only me." Race begged. His heart absolutely shattered when he saw two brown eyes peek out from where they were hidden; tears dripped off his face and his brows were scrunched up from panic. He watched as his friend's gaze darted around his face.

"Racer?" Albert's voice cracked in a whisper.

"Yeah, it's me Al. What's wrong?" Race asked. So many questions swirled in his head, but they could wait for now. Albert swallowed back a shaky breath.

"I was goin' ta sleep at my place tonight, but when I got home I saw my dad an' brothers fightin'." He sniffed. "I ran back here and- I just got upset or somethin'. I didn't even think of checking the window ta see if it was closed or not."

Race shook his head a bit, still not understanding. "So you planned on sitting out here alone with no one to talk to?"

"Yeah! And then you came out here and decided to-" Albert's hands gripped at his hair angrily and a range of emotions played out across his face, like he wasn't sure how to react. But then, his expression contorted back into one of fear and sadness like before. He was crying again.

"Hey hey hey... it's okay. I'm right here with you." Race said, trying to calm Albert down.

"But you wasn't! Not when I needed you!" Albert yelled. Race almost turned around to see if he'd woken anybody else with his voice, but decided against it.

"Whaddya mean I wasn't with you?" He questioned.

"The Refuge..." Albert croaked. Suddenly, everything that had happened in the past five months flashed in Race's mind at once.

All the way back in the wintertime- it must have been December, since May was just beginning- Race and Albert both got tossed into the Refuge. They may have been together when they were chased by the bulls, but they certainly weren't once they'd arrived. Snyder had them separated on the spot, and it stayed that way for nearly a month until they could both break back out. They had Mush deliver letters back-and-forth to each of their windows, so sometimes they heard from each other, but the letters only held friendly affirmations, little 'You'll be okay's and 'We'll bust out soon's. Once they left, Race never asked Albert about what happened to him during their stay, and Albert never asked Race, and they left it at that. Race hadn't ever thought Albert went through more than a disciplinary slap. Until now.

Albert carried on. "Right when I walked through the door, when I heard my father yellin' at my brothers, every memory from that prison was eatin' me up outta nowhere. How I got thrown around each night without ever doin' anything. And ya just abandoned me like that, and I thought I'd neva see that stupid face of yours again. Dammit Race!" He cried.

Race didn't hesitate a moment longer to pull Albert to his chest and hold him tightly.

"I'm here now. I wish I could have been with you the whole time we were apart. 'M sorry." He whispered, continuing to echo empty apologies into the night air again and again after that, as he and Albert sat curled up on the rickety fire escape together. The tears that he had been keeping at bay now fell and mixed with the already-wet patch on his shirt from Albert.

"You're safe now." Race said once Albert's breathing had steadied out. He felt the redhead nod weakly in reply. The stars were no longer visible. Dark clouds had blocked them out. A few raindrops landed on Race's hair and face, making him flinch.

"We should probably head inside. Weather's pickin' up." He pointed out.

"I ain't got no money for rent." Albert said, pulling away from the boy and running a hand through his own hair.

"It won't cost ya anything unless you're sleeping in your own cot, which you won't be." Race remarked with a coy smile. He pulled Albert up with him by the hands and quietly led him back into the lodging house.

Race didn't ask why Albert buried his face in the crook of his neck when they laid down, or how he grabbed at his shirt in order to pull him closer, or how he muttered a tiny "Thank you" before falling asleep. He didn't have to. He already understood well enough.

Tag list:

@nerdsies

@the-art-ofdying

@kadenistrying

@sadsackofcellophane

@spot-the-brooklyn-pirate

@daveysexual

@gaby-rodriguez13

@wayward-demigod-witch

#newsies #race higgins #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #jojo newsies #jorgelino josephino de la guerra #romeo newsies #finch cortez #finch newsies #jack kelly #newsies fic #my writing

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