#but he did make Raine hotter somehow I’ll give him that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

studiojeon · 3 years ago

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use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | - Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee).

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed.

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish. “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes.

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better.

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you.

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face.

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly.

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips.

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way.

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion.

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on?

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week.

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker.

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way."

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while.

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either.

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out.

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside.

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you.

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know".

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right.

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?"

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though.

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t.

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

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night-fallz · 4 years ago

Text

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

It was raining and it was just the perfect atmosphere for me to write in. I hope you guys like this chapter. And like I have previously stated in the previous chapters, any criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/28/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 3

Marinette was sitting on a bench waiting for XY to arrive. She was nervous. Their conversation last night would not leave her head.

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up.

He called me princess.

When Chat Noir called her that she just felt annoyed. But with XY, it only made her heart beat faster.

"Marinette!" she heard a familiar voice yell. Marinette turned around and noticed XY running up to her. When he finally reached her, he was out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you." He managed to say between gasps.

Marinette looked at him up and down with a bit of disgust. "What kind of disguise is this!" she yelled at him.

XY was wearing a sage-green crewneck that says 'NIKE' in the middle with baggy jeans and black converse. His outfit wasn't the worst. In fact, Marinette liked it. But what she didn't like were the accessories she chose. He was wearing an obnoxious cowboy hat with huge sunglasses that almost covered the upper part of his face. To make it worse, XY was also wearing an obnoxiously fake mustache.

XY winced at her reaction and meekly said, "A disguise?"

Marinette let out a huff. "I can not believe I am being seen next to you right now. The fashion gods must've cursed me or something."

XY let out a laugh and Marinette had a feeling that he was rolling his eyes at her. Of course, she couldn't be sure because of those hideous sunglasses. XY tugged her arm, "Come on." he smirked. "The faster we get to your house, the faster you won't be seen with a so-called fashion disaster like me."

Marinette scrunched her nose and started walking towards the bakery. "Hurry up." She exclaimed, letting out a small laugh. "I already know that you can't come up with a subtle disguise, but I hope that you aren't slow as well."

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XY was out of breath, yet again, when they arrived at the front door of the bakery. "You're fast." He let out a breath. “That wasn’t fair. I literally ran to the park so I could hang out with you, then you make me run even more.”

Marinette pulled the door open and winked at him. "I know." She gave her parents a quick hug and turned back to XY. "Do you want anything?"

XY looked at the baked goods and scrunched his eyebrows. "Can I have a croissant and a strawberry macaroon, please?"

He was about to reach for his wallet when Marinette quickly stopped him. "It's on the house." She said reassuringly. XY opened his mouth to protest and Marinette narrowed her eyes and gave him the items he wanted. "It's on the house," she repeated, this time glaring at him..

XY looked at Mrs. Dupain-Cheng for help but she only gave him a smile. "Don't argue with her, dear. She does this for all her friends. She won't take no for an answer."

"My mom's right." Marinette agreed. "Now come on” Marinette tugged his sleeve. “We have plans to make."

Before he could reply, Marinette led him upstairs to her bedroom.

"Woah," XY exclaimed in surprise.

Whatever he was expecting Marinette’s room to look like, it was not this.

"Why are you so sho-" Marinette stopped talking right when she turned so she could face her room and her face went bright red. She let out a scream of embarrassment. "I swear I thought I put all of this away! I can't believe I forg- UGH!" she let out a huff of frustration. "You think I'm creepy now, don't you." she said, her eyes on the ground.

XY gave her room another quick glance before facing her. She had Adrien Agreste's face everywhere. There were posters with Adrien's face all over her wall. The wallpaper on her desktop was Adrien. Her room was basically an Adrien Agreste shrine.

Yet, XY had seen worse. Seeing her room, it was obvious that she has a crush on Adrien Agreste. He held in a scoff. Of course, she does. He thought. Why would she ever like me anyways. I’m a nobody when compared to the so-called sunshine boy of Paris.

XY could feel Marinette's eyes staring at him. He's been silent for a while.

Marinette probably assumed that he hated her and thought she was a creep. "Nope," XY said, a bit louder than necessary. He winced before he added, "I don't think you're a creep." his voice a bit softer this time.

"Yes, you do," Marinette stated, her hands hiding her face. "You took way too long to respond."

"I was taking in the scenery."

"What scenery?" Marinette asked. Though, XY could hear a teasing tone behind it. "My embarrassed face or my even more embarrassing room." Marinette plopped down on her bed. "I thought I took down all the posters and got rid of his face on my desktop." She faced him and smiled sheepishly, "I guess I was so excited to meet up with you that I forgot to take all this-" she gestured around her room "off."

"If it helps," XY tried to say. "This really isn't that bad." When Marinette stared at him as if he grew a tail, he added. "Trust me, I've seen way worse."

And just like that, the tense and awkward atmosphere was gone.

It was silent for a few seconds when Marinette spoke. "Me and my friend Alya” Marinette wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “We were supposed to take down all my posters and burn them." It was XY's turn to stare at Marinette as she was the one who grew a tail, but Marinette didn’t notice it or she just ignored him. "I'm over him. I actually can't believe I ever liked him in the first place."

"What changed?"

Marinette waved the question off. "I'll tell you later. Now, let's start planning the photo shoot."

XY stared at her for a few seconds, trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. "Okay.” He surrendered. “But you're telling me everything later."

"Maybe Marinette teased. "Now come on XY-"

"Xavier." he interrupted. Marinette scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "Call me Xavier."

"Oh." Marinette looked at him with a cute smile on her face. "Well come on Xavier," she said his name in a teasing tone. "Let's get planning."

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

Planning her 'I'm back cause I didn't realize that I somehow have over 200,000 followers on insta' photoshoot took a lot faster than Marinette thought it would.

XY, no, Xavier was a natural at it. She guessed it was because he was used to this kind of thing.

Marinette looked at her pink notebook. It was where she wrote down all the plans they made and the suggestions he gave her. "Thank you so much for helping me!" she exclaimed in excitement. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Xavier took a bite out of his macaroon, "You're welcome. It wasn't that hard anyways, so it's all good."

Marinette studied him. Technically, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, but same thing.

He took off that horrible disguise of his so she could actually see his face.

Like Marinette said before, Xavier was hot. He had a sharp jawline, which brought out his ocean blue eyes and his golden blonde hair was shining in the sun.

If Xavier ever asked Marinette who she believed his godly parent was, she would definitely say Apollo. Apollo was often described by Percy as hot. Someone with blonde hair and blue eyes. It also helps that Xavier was a musician.

Marinette let out a dreamy sigh before quickly widening her eyes. She tried to make it look like she wasn't staring at him but it was too late.

Xavier caught her. He gave her a smirk that practically made Marinette melt and raised an eyebrow. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Marinette wanted to take him up on that offer. Instead, she forced out a laugh and threw a pillow at him. "Wow. How original."

Xavier rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

Could this guy get any hotter?

"So." Xavier said.

"So?" Marinette replied with confusion.

"What's up with you burning down all the pictures of-" he gestured at her posters.

"Oh," Marinette couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. "That."

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft.

Marinette looked at him in surprise.

Should she lie?

Marinette couldn’t bring himself to lie to him. He asked her that question with such sincerity. As if he actually wanted to know if she was okay

Instead, Marinette scoffs. "Did you know that you’re the second person who ever asked me that question?"

He didn’t reply.

Stupid. Marinette scolded herself. Why did she say that to him? Now he was going to hate her and think she’s just looking for attention.

Marinette stiffened. Xavier’s arms were around her.

He was giving her a hug.

Usually, Marinette would be freaking out about someone like him hugging her.

But right now, all she could do was hug him tighter and finally let go of all the tears that she's been holding in.

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

Note: I suck at writing sad scenes. So don't end up being surprised if my attempted angsty chapters end up being cringy.

Also, how do you guys want me to address XY? Do you want me to keep addressing him as XY or Xavier outside of Marinette's dialogue? I tried to address him with his actual name, Xavier, in this chapter. But I don't really know if I like it or not, so please give me your feedback on that.

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

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pretendingboyfriends · 4 years ago

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A/N: heyyyyyy i know this took a long time to finish BUT shit happens and mental health comes before fanfiction. anyways, i hope u guys love this part and pls do not hesitate to send comments, suggestions, etc. when you’re finished and pls don’t forget to reblog!! also, thank u @sunflowers-styles and @fromyourstrulyh for beta-ing this part it would be a mess if u hadn’t <3

Warnings: angst, sadness, slightest bit of sexual tension, deidre being a bitch

Word count: 6.5k+

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Harry’s aching to talk to you. He still has no clue what he did wrong and he desperately wants to fix things, but you won’t even give him the chance–refusing to do so much as make eye contact with him when speaking. You’re humiliated. Not only because you wanted to kiss him, but also because you made it seem like he did something wrong. However, being your non confrontational self, you haven’t gained the courage to explain anything to him. Plus, you don’t want to make Deidre suspicious, so you force yourself to act just as casual as you had before and, of course, she hasn’t noticed a thing.

The day has been nothing out of the ordinary, you’re sprawled across the couch with your leg in the air, allowing your toe-nails to dry after their first coat of olive green nail polish. The weather is exceptionally nice and your hair is still wet from the dip in the pool you had taken earlier when the sun was significantly hotter than it is now. Harry left for groceries an hour or so ago and now you’re just waiting for Deidre to come out of the bedroom so that the two of you can go out and do something together.

“Okay, so-” She calls from the end of the hallway as she walks, “There’s this party tonight that the boys invited me to and I think you should come with me.”

You frown, swinging your legs back over the edge of the couch so that you can sit up straight and look at her. “What?”

She shuffles through the doorway in a crop top and skirt, her shoes clutched in her hand as she runs her fingers through her hair. “C’mon, It’ll be fun! We haven’t gone to a party together in ages.”

“I thought we were gonna go out together, just the two of us. Wasn’t that the whole purpose of this beach getaway? Just us spending time together?”

She shrugs, “I mean, we never really made a plan, it was just an idea.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” You bite, standing from your spot on the couch and crossing your arms over your chest. “I feel like it was implied that we were going to hang out tonight and now you’re going to some party with people you barely know?”

She rolls her eyes, “We can still hang out at the party!”

“No, Deidre, because I don’t want to go to a party with a bunch of people I don’t know!”

“Oh, come on,” She groans, “Nobody knows anyone at these parties, we’re all just there to have fun!”

“I still don’t want to go.”

“Fine. I’ll just go by myself, then.” She huffs, hunching over to slide her shoes on.

You take a deep breath, “I don’t think you should go either.”

“Oh my god,” She groans, “What are you, my mom?”

“No, I just think, as your best friend, that going to a party with a bunch of people you don’t know very well--a bunch of men you don’t know very well--isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s just a party, I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about it!” She yells, arms flailing around her in frustration as she walks across the living room to the door.

You drag both your hands down your face, groaning in exasperation. “Deidre, you met these guys a few days ago and they’re asking you to get drunk with them. How do you not see how dangerous that is?”

“They’re nice guys, they would never do anything to hurt me!”

“You don’t know that!” You retort, “For all you know, they could be planning to drug you and drag you back to a room to do who knows what to you!”

You hear the honking of a car horn coming from the front of the house and she huffs, shaking her head at you as she leans forward and grabs her purse from the coffee table. “I’m leaving. I’ll send you my location when I get there.” And with that, she’s gone.

You’re left alone in the house, the only sound that can be heard is the choked sob that erupts from your chest as soon as the screen door slams shut behind her. Tears spill down your cheeks with each sob, your body collapsing into the couch before you drop your head into your hands. All you can feel is anger, frustration, and anxiety. You’re concerned for Deidre, however, you’re also infuriated with her. She’s selfish; so selfish, in fact, that she doesn’t even consider that you and her entire family might be affected if anything terrible happens to her.

You sit there on the couch for what seems like decades, your body wracked with sobs as tears stream down your cheeks. Every emotion from the past few days has suddenly burst from within you and you’re unable to contain it.

Finally, after gathering your emotions as much as possible, you lift yourself from the couch and trudge to the kitchen for some comfort food. Swinging the fridge door open, your eyes almost immediately land on a large, unopened bottle of red wine.

“Fuck it.” You mutter, reaching forward and grasping the chilled, glass bottle by its neck. You place the bottle on the counter as you recklessly search for a corkscrew in one of the many drawers lining the countertop. Moments later, you’re mustering every bit of strength inside of you to open the bottle with the screw and after nearly 10 minutes of struggling, the cork pops out with a loud “THUNK”.

You sigh, reaching for the cabinet above you for a wine glass out of reflex, but you quickly decide against the use of a glass and gulp the liquid straight from the bottle. You know your behavior is reckless, but you can’t find a single part of you that cares. You need the pain and frustration to go away somehow and drowning them with an $11 bottle of wine would suffice for now.

Dragging yourself out to the patio, you allow the thick, heady liquid to slide down your throat and settle into your empty stomach as you plop yourself into one of the chairs. A loud rumble of thunder in the distance draws your attention from the bottle, causing you to pull it away from your lips for a moment. You watch as a faint, almost unnoticeable, drizzle gradually turns into a steady shower and then into a heavy downpour. The scarce amount of people that had been on the beach when you first stepped out onto the patio are now shoveling all of their belongings into their arms as fast as they can to avoid being trapped in the downpour.

Soon, the beach is completely vacant. Not a soul is in sight and, oddly enough, you’re drawn to it. Nearly two-thirds of the bottle is resting warmly in your stomach at this point, so your decision making skills are not the most reliable, but something’s telling you to go out and sit in the rain. So, after chugging the rest of the bottle (and quickly rushing inside to use the bathroom because alcohol on an empty stomach is like a free pass to pissing yourself), you allow your intoxicated brain to wisp you down the patio stairs and into the thick, sopping wet sand.

Your clothes have already begun to soak through from the rain as you stumble along the shore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot from crying and your head is throbbing with every step you take. Then, you stop, allowing your body to drop down into the sand before looping your arms around your bent legs and tugging them to your chest.

It’s nearing dusk as you sit there, the sun slowly sinking further and further beneath the horizon behind thick clouds. Your clothes are completely soaked through by this point, but, in your drunken state, you can’t find a reason to care. Tears begin to spill down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain drops already pelting your face and you don’t even bother to wipe them away. Your chest feels numb from the sobs that incessantly wrack your body, but you can’t find the strength to stop. It feels like you’re trapped. Unable to escape the sinking loneliness that increases with every moment of every day and ignoring it only makes it worse.

When you’d first agreed to the trip, you were given a sense of hope. You thought that maybe, if you were around people that made you happy, your loneliness would dissipate and you wouldn’t feel like this anymore; but it’s only become worse.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry is sprinting from his car with an armful of groceries to the front door of the beach house and swinging it open. He calls for Deidre, then calls for you finding silence within the house. He frowns, stumbling further into the living room towards the kitchen so that he can set the large, paper bags down on the table to relieve himself of their weight. He leaves the bags there and begins to search the rooms, finding each one of them empty and becoming even more confused. Lastly, he slides the patio door open to find each chair empty, the empty wine bottle sitting alone on the metal patio table. He steps out, shutting the door behind him before walking to the table and taking the bottle into his hands. The glass is still damp with perspiration, but there isn’t more than a few tablespoons of wine left sloshing at the bottom of the bottle. He places it back where it had been resting before as he lifts his head to look out at the beach. The downpour is so thick that it’s difficult to make out any sort of shapes, but when his eyes land on your figure in the sand, his heart nearly leaps from his chest.

He calls your name as he bounds down the porch stairs and into the sand, jogging to where you sit with your knees pressed to your chest. You turn to him with a sorrowful expression, lip quivering uncontrollably with your weak sobs.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” He stutters, dropping to his knees beside you with one hand on your back and the other on your knee. “Are you hurt? Should I call somebody?”

You shake your head. “M’alright.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re alright,” He frowns, reaching his right hand up to gently turn your face towards him. “Wh- why are you- what’s going on? Why are you out here in this weather all alone?”

The rain is still incessant and it’s hard for either of you to see anything but you’re able to sense just how much Harry cares. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand and shake your head.

“Dee went out,” You slur quietly. “Then, I had a bit of wine.”

“You’re crying.” He points out.

You shake your head again, avoiding his eye contact. “S’just the rain.”

He sighs in defeat, hand dropping from your face as he pushes his wet hair from his own. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.” He grasps your hands gently as he stands, pulling you up with him. You stumble slightly, falling into him and his arms reflexively wrap around your waist, mumbling: “Easy, darling.”

The unremitting mizzle of rain pelts against the both of you as he drags you back up to the house with one arm wrapped around your waist. Your head leans lazily against his shoulder and your body melts into his due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. Keeping a tight grip on you, Harry quickly leads you up the porch stairs and back inside the house, careful to keep you from tripping over your own feet.

The temperature of the house is slightly cooler than outside and you’re unable to keep your teeth from chattering as you step inside. Harry notices this.

“Stay right here, I’m gonna go get some towels.” He mutters, shuffling off down the hallway and leaving you standing soaked, shivering, and intoxicated in the entryway. He returns within a few moments holding a stack of fluffy pink towels (courtesy of the beach house owners), quickly unfolding one of them and wrapping it around your shoulders. You tug the fabric around yourself, teeth chattering as you take a deep breath and look up at him through bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you.”

He nods, taking a towel for himself and leaning over to shake out his dripping hair. You step past him into the hallway, walking towards your bedroom with the towel still wrapped around your shivering frame. The house feels like it's spinning with every step you take, your hand pressed against the wall to support yourself as you guide yourself to the bedroom. You know Harry’s watching you, longing to ask you why you were out in the rain completely wasted, but you don’t feel sober enough to trust him or yourself.

Stumbling into your bedroom, you shuffle through your drawer for some dry clothes, settling on an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. You don’t even bother with closing the door all the way as you peel the wet clothes from your skin, carelessly dropping them onto the carpet. After you successfully pull the sweatshirt on, you attempt putting on the sweatpants, discovering that in your drunken state, finding the correct leg hole is much harder than you anticipated. So, after struggling for all of one minute, you huff and throw them aside.

“Need help?”

You glance up from where you sit on the edge of the bed to find Harry leaning against the doorway, dressed in a dry t-shirt and sweatpants. You frown, “Were you watching me?”

“No,” He pauses. “I mean- just for a moment, but I swear I didn’t see anything.”

You nod slowly with a yawn, “It’s okay. I’m too drunk to care, anyway.”

He chuckles at that and watches as you stand, stumbling to the upper end of the bed and pulling the comforter down to make room for you to slide beneath it. You plop yourself onto the mattress with a yawn, patting the empty space beside you and looking up at him.

He raises his eyebrows, “Y’want me to…?” You nod at his unfinished question, giving him a small, drunken grin. So, after a moment of hesitation, Harry walks over to the bed and climbs into the empty spot beside you with your eyes glued to him the whole time. He sighs, “What now?”

“Will you… hold me?” You request quietly, avoiding his soft, virescent stare.

He pauses. There isn’t a single fiber of his being that doesn’t want to feel your warmth against him, arms looped around your waist, nose buried into the crevice of your neck; but he knows that you’re drunk and he can’t be sure that you won’t regret anything once the intoxication has passed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” You shrug. “Unless, of course, you aren’t comfortable with it,”

“I am, but you aren’t fully… ‘here’ right now and I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You sigh, “I think I’m sober enough to ask you to harmlessly spoon me to sleep.”

“Alright,” He nods, moving to lay on his side, head against the pillow. “C’mere, then.”

You smile to yourself, leaning over to switch the small bedside lamp off before allowing your body to lie against the mattress fully before turning to face away from him, waiting for him to wrap his arms around you. The hem of your sweatshirt rides up with your movement and, although you’re completely oblivious to it, Harry notices. His eyes focus on the soft skin of your hip and the thin fabric of your panties resting against it. Fuck. Swallowing the heavy lump wedged in his throat, he moves forward and loops his arm around your waist, tugging your back into his chest with a quiet grunt.

One may assume that two people in this situation, given the status of your relationship being strictly friends (in the lightest sense of the word), would feel uncomfortable or awkward, but both of you, somehow, feel a sense of relief. Two long, breathy sighs emit from both of you in unison as your bodies fit together like two pieces of thread, meant to intertwine perfectly to create a beautiful piece of clothing.

The two of you lie there in the dark silence, taking slow, deep breaths to calm your fluttering heartbeats as the tension builds. If you were sober, you definitely wouldn’t have even considered being in this situation, but since there’s nearly 25 ounces of liquid courage coursing through your veins, you’re unable to keep yourself from being brutally honest about what you want. Silently, you move your hand from where it rests on the mattress, sliding it over his hand that rests just between your stomach and ribs and taking it into your own. He feels your hand, but doesn’t say anything.

Every sense of your caution has been thrown to the wind at this point, so you don’t even consider hesitating when asking: “Do you remember that song that came on the other day when we were in the car?”

He’s caught completely off guard by your question and frowns. “I-uh, yeah, I remember. ‘Dancing With Myself’?”

You nod in acknowledgement, silence settling over you again for a few lasting moments before you speak again. “The other day when you were talking about the meaning of that song, how it sounds upbeat and happy but the lyrics are actually him talking about how lonely he is, it reminded me of myself…” You pause, sighing quietly, trying to blink away the inevitable tears. You can sense that he’s listening, though, so you continue. “I just- sometimes it’s hard for me to feel at home with people even if they are my friends, and there are many times when I just see myself with them and I just don’t even feel like I’m there. Like, despite being in a room full of people, like the song says, I’m dancing with myself, trying in vain to make myself look like the exact opposite of how I feel. It’s like I just have to go through life alone, despite the people around me.”

He’s quiet for a while and it scares you. Maybe you said too much. Maybe he’s uncomfortable. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for the tears to spill and then he speaks.

“Is that- is that why you were crying?”

“Partially,” You whisper, staring straight ahead into the dark room. Harry’s arm moves a little and then you feel his fingers brushing against your hand before lacing his fingers between your own without a word. His body presses closer to yours and you ever so faintly feel his lips against your shoulder for just a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the tears fall and trickle down onto the pillow where your head lays. “It fucking hurts,” You take a long, shaky breath. “It hurts when I can’t even tell my best friend about how I feel because I feel like I’m being selfish for giving her the weight of my issues.”

“You’re not being selfish,” He whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “If you’re hurting, she should be there for you no matter what. Just like you are with her,” He pauses for a beat, taking a deep breath. “I think you’re one of the most caring people I have ever met. You have always been there for Deidre even though recently she’s been a bit of twat to you.”

“Yeah,” You chuckle at that and he breathes a small laugh, tightening his arms around you. Silence settles around you once more, and you think that maybe he’s fallen asleep but then he stirs and moves his hand from yours to tilt your face and body in his direction, leaning over you. Your eyes meet as he gently swipes his thumb against your damp skin, collecting the tears that had just escaped from your eyes with a small smile. Just as he is about to drop his hand from your face, you grasp him by the wrist, pressing his large palm to the curve of your cheek. His gaze flickers between your lips and your eyes, even in the darkness of the bedroom you’re able to make out each other’s faces and you see the edges of his lips curl up into the faintest smile.

“Also,” You breathe, thumb stroking the skin of his wrist gently, “I’m sorry about the other night.”

It takes a moment for him to process what you mean, but when he does he shakes his head. “No, no, it was my fault. You didn’t want me to kiss you and I shouldn’t have crossed your boundaries like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, Harry, that’s not-” You sigh, “I just- I was afraid it would mess things up with Deidre and I was putting her feelings before my own, which I now realize wasn’t fair to either of us.” You motion between the two of you.

“I get it,” He nods, watching as you take his hand from your cheek and interlock your fingers between his. You’re still mildly intoxicated, so your confidence levels are also quite a bit higher than normal. Harry watches you in silence, the two of you mindlessly fiddling with each other’s fingers like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to do. And then he clears his throat. “So, you- you did want to kiss me?”

You pause, bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you look up at his face. “Yeah.”

“Hm… good to know.”

Silence falls over the two of you again as you focus back on your fingers dancing against his. You want to keep talking to him; You want to say ‘fuck it’ and throw every bit of caution to the wind regarding Deidre, falling into this “scandalous” affair with her brother; You want to tell him how you feel, express every bit of longing you’ve had for him since the first day his dimpled smile met your gaze, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open, the alcohol in your system taking over and pushing you to surrender. So you do.

You yawn, “I think I should probably go to sleep now.”

“I can leave if you want…” He responds, lifting himself up from the mattress slightly, but you stop him with a quick shake of your head, tugging his arm back around your waist.

“Stay until I fall asleep?”

He smiles to himself, arms tightening around you as he nuzzles his face into your hair. “Okay.”

Harry hadn’t intended on falling asleep with you. He’d planned on waiting until you fell asleep and then would sneak off to his own bed, but it’s morning now and the two of you are lying fast asleep in the exact position you were in the night before. His arms wound tightly around you, chest pressed to your back, and his nose pressed into the base of your neck. In a way, the warmth and peace his arms give you feel completely normal; like you’re long-term lovers, dozing in the soft morning sunlight, awaiting the new day.

The alarming screech of your ringtone rudely interrupts your slumber and causes you to lift yourself from the mattress and angrily slap your hand around in search of your phone. Finding it, you squint at the illuminated screen to see Deidre’s profile picture and name, you groan and push yourself to sit up on the mattress as you slide your finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Hello?” You croak, knuckling frustratedly at your puffy, sleep-filled eyes.

“Hi,” She sounds out of breath, almost frantic. “I know you’re probably still mad at me but everything is okay. I didn’t come home last night because I ended up passing out on Jeff’s couch after everyone left and he failed to wake me up, even though I told him to. But yeah, um, I’m sorry, I’m on my way home. Please don’t be mad at me.”

You should be mad at her, but it’s early and your hungover brain is making it harder for you to form any sort of emotion. “It’s fine. We-I fell asleep early anyways so I didn’t notice.”

She sighs in relief, “Okay. Well, I’ll be home in like 10 minutes,”

“See ya.” You mumble half-heartedly before the line cuts out and you’re dropping your phone into your lap with a yawn. Somehow, during that conversation, you’d completely forgotten the presence of Harry. That is, until he clears his throat and shuffles on the bed, causing you to turn and look at him.

“G’morning,” He mutters, his deep, syrupy accent tainted with sleep. “Was that-?”

“Deidre, yeah,” You finish, rubbing your hands over your face. “She’s on her way.”

“Oh… then I should- I should probably get out of here,”

You nod and he pushes the comforter off of his body, sliding over the side of the bed and planting his feet against the carpeted floor. Once he’s left the room, you drag yourself out of bed to change into something a bit more appropriate.

Your memory of the night before is somewhat of a blur due to the amount of wine you’d consumed, but you do remember the things you said to him right before falling asleep; the way he touched and held you like you were his own. Your heart flutters at the memory of the way he brushed a fallen tear from your skin and spoke to you in a soft, soothing voice. You’ve deceived yourself by saying that this is just a crush, because it’s more than that and deep down you’re slowly beginning to realize it.

After pulling on the clean, discarded sweatpants that, in your drunken frustration, had been left in a crumple on the floor, you make your way to the kitchen. Harry’s there already, spreading mashed avocado onto freshly toasted bread before lightly salting it with garlic salt and placing a perfectly fried egg on top. He’s humming to himself as he works to make more slices and you smile, clearing your throat to catch his attention.

He turns his head in your direction. “Oh, hey! Do you want one slice or two?”

“Um, I’ll have two, please,” You respond, slowly making your way across the small kitchen to where he stands at the counter. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, though,”

He shakes his head as he sucks a bit of avocado from his thumb. “It’s no problem, really. I don’t mind.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, Deidre walks through the front door, calling: “Hello! I’m back!”

You walk through the kitchen doorway to find her at the door, sporting the same outfit as she had been last night. Her hair is tied up into a messy bun, though, and her shoes are in her hand instead of on her feet.

“Good morning,” You greet.

She tosses her shoes aside and smiles at you. “Hey, I’m sorry about last night. Can we talk later?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod and give her a small smile back, lacking the energy to still be mad at her and giving into your tendency of forgiveness.

As she follows you into the kitchen, she greets Harry with a quick ‘good morning’, grabbing a fully assembled piece of toast from him before scurrying off for a shower and leaving the two of you alone once more. It’s easier being around him now. There’s a hint of tension now, but it isn’t malicious or uncomfortable tension. You feel drawn to him even more than you did before and you can tell he’s feeling the same way.

“God, Harry, that was so good.” You nearly moan as you wipe the crumbs of toast from your fingertips.

He smiles, swallowing and wiping the corner of his mouth. “M’glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to teach me your cooking and baking skills someday,” You chuckle, subtly hinting at spending more time with him.

He downs the rest of the coffee in his mug, humming. “I’d love to.”

You smile at him, standing to take your dishes to the sink and holding out your hand for his. He frowns and shakes his head. “None of that, I’ll clean up.”

“At least let me help.” You pout.

He chuckles. “If you insist.”

You follow him to the sink, watching as he takes the dishes and begins to rinse them and hand them over to you so that you can place them into the dishwasher. There really isn’t much of a reason for you to be helping him, but you’re finding it hard to keep yourself away from him. The giddy flutter of your heart when his fingers brush against yours and the flirtatious smiles spread across your faces makes you feel utterly alive and you never want it to end. But, eventually, there are no more dishes to clean and you’re in desperate need of a shower, so he thanks you for your help and the two of you go your separate ways.

Cold, frothy water splashes against your bare feet as you walk along the sandy shore. Your sandals are dangling from your fingertips and your loose-fitted jeans are rolled up to your shins to allow a more comfortable stroll. The sun is just beginning to set, casting a peach hue along the crystal-like water as it rolls lazily back and forth.

Deidre is a few feet behind you, collecting a lone seashell she’d spotted during her stroll. A quiet moment passes and then she’s beside you again, palm stretched out into your direction to show you the small, detailed shell with a glowing pride.

“Oh, that one’s gorgeous.” You gush at its beauty, taking it between your own fingers to examine it further. It’s a small tulip shell, only about two inches in size, but its shimmery, pearlish gleam is almost breathtaking under the dim sunlight.

“Think I’ll try to find another one and make them into earrings.” She smiles as you place it back into her hand.

“Yeah, that’d be cute!”

The two of you have only just left the beach house in an effort to be somewhere alone so the two of you can talk things out. Deidre is silent for a moment, both of you ruminating the possible ways to begin the conversation. Then, she speaks.

“I’m sorry for leaving you like that yesterday, that wasn’t very cool of me.”

You smile a little, “Thanks. I’m sorry for getting so upset with you. I definitely could’ve handled that better.”

She nods. “Yeah. I think we both could’ve handled that much better.”

“Definitely,” You agree, kicking the damp sand with your bare feet. “I just think that, you know, you promised to spend time with me on this trip and I feel like I’ve barely seen you. And I’m glad you’ve made friends, but I’d kinda like to just spend time with you at some point.”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “I’m sorry.”

You turn to her, stopping in your tracks and opening your arms for a hug. “Are we good?”

“Of course.” She smiles and wraps you into a giant bear hug, causing both of you to stumble on the sand a bit. Both of you are giggling uncontrollably once you pull away, nearly falling into the sand beneath your feet.

“I’ll race you back to the house,” You smile deviously, planting your feet in the starting position and waiting for her to do the same.

She smirks and positions herself beside you. “Oh, you’re on.”

The two of you bolt towards the house at top speed, sand kicking up behind you in big clouds as scurry along the beach under the pale evening sunlight.

You reach the house moments before her, immediately collapsing into the sand in front of the stairs to catch your breath. Deidre is quick to stumble up behind you, nearly skidding to a stop as she takes several big gulps of air through a laugh.

“Still got it,” You wink at her, a similar image of the two of you in the same positions at a much younger age flashing across your mind briefly.

She flashes you a mocking smile with a tilt to her head and then the repetitive ring of her phone in her pocket interrupts the moment. You watch as she tugs it from her pocket, sliding her finger across the screen and lifting it to her ear with a peppy greeting to the other person on the line. Immediately by the tone of her voice you know exactly what’s about to happen. She’s going to do exactly what she’s been doing since the trip began– or rather, since the two of you were teenagers– she’s going to sputter out a mouthful of excuses and then she’s going to leave.

“Okay, I’ll be out front in five minutes! See ya!” She says before sliding her phone back into her pocket and smiling at you. “That was Jeffrey and his friends, they invited me out again tonight and I promised I would go.”

She doesn’t even fucking realize...

Sheathing your blinding frustration with a tinge of annoyance, you nod, motion up the stairs before mumbling: “Well, then, you better get going.”

Watching her scurry back up the stairs and into the house, your heart sinks into your chest. She’s so used to you just allowing things like this to happen that she doesn’t even realize how much it’s hurting your relationship and how much it’s hurting you.

After dropping your sandals there you find yourself wandering from the bottom of the stairs back out into the shore, lazily kicking at the shallow water whilst your arms are wrapped around your chest. It’s gotten much darker and people are beginning to filter out through the dunes, lugging their belongings or simply just walking hand in hand.

The waves crash repeatedly with a lulling, crisp sound that drowns out all other sound in your ears. The air is warm and so is the wind as it swirls and whips around you, causing the loose fabric of your sweater to flap obnoxiously.

Faintly in the distance, you can hear the screen door of the back porch swing shut and it draws your eyes back up to the house where Harry bounds down the stairs with a smile on his face. A smile just for you.

“Hey!” He calls, gasping for air as he jogs towards you across the sand. You wave back at him with a small smile, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand and wait for him to reach you.

“Hi,”

“You alright?” He frowns, stepping closer to you.

You sigh, fingertips pressed against your forehead in a weak attempt to hide your distress. “I- uh, yeah I’m okay.”

“Doesn’t really look like it,” He says, tilting his head to examine your face a bit better.

You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the tears beginning to build at the edge of your lash line, taking a deep breath. “It’s just- fuck, Harry, she keeps doing it. She keeps telling me that she wants to spend more time together and then she just leaves me. And she doesn’t even fucking realize it,” You look back up at him in the dim evening lighting, wrapping your sweater clad arms around yourself. “Like- what am I supposed to do? She doesn’t listen to me.”

A pregnant pause follows when you finish speaking before Harry speaks. “I don’t know if you can really do anything. Deidre is going to do what she wants to do, regardless of how it affects you.”

He’s right. As much as you never thought you’d actually admit it to yourself, you know he’s right. It feels almost as if a weight has been lifted off your chest; a weight that’s been there since you and Deidre blossomed into teenagers and she gradually began to treat you this way. And then you’re looking back at Harry, gears turning in your brain at a pace that’s almost too fast for you to process. Then, without any sort of caution or judgement as to what it might result in, you’re surging forward pressing a hand to the back of his neck, beneath his mop of hair, and frantically pulling his lips against yours.

It takes a millisecond for him to react, but then he’s kissing you back harder, long arms coming to wrap around your waist and press you into his chest as his soft, supple lips move skillfully against yours. Every long, heart aching year that passed that you had grown to care for him flashes through your mind; every smile he directed at you; every time he wrapped his arms around you in a giant bear hug, mumbling: “Nice to see you,” in your ear; every moment that you spent falling in love with him.

He’s the first to pull away, arms unwavering from their place around you. “What about Deidre?”

You stare back at him for a moment before shaking your head, mumbling: “I don’t care.” under your breath, eyes flickering down to his lips before both of you are lunging forward once again.

Both of you stumble around on the sand for a moment and then Harry falls back into the sand, ass first, bringing you down with him. The two of you are a fit of giggles and snorts as you land in the fluffy, damp sand, limbs tangled between limbs. You land with your legs straddling his slim waist, hands planted against the sand beneath him, hovering over him with a smile. He gazes back up at you with his own dimpled smile, his hands resting cautiously on your hips. He stares at you, studying your face as the two of you catch your breath before he says something that has your stomach twisting into knots and your skin bursting into flames.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,”

You lift one of your hands to cover your face, giggling nervously at his words as he lifts himself to sit in the sand with you in his lap. “I’m serious.”

“Why?” You whisper in response, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“God,” He mumbles your name, “You might not see it, but I see it. And I’ve seen it since we were kids; since I was 18.”

You’re speechless, unable to form a full sentence to respond to him, so you just grab his face between your hands and latch your lips onto his again. You stay like that, lips dragging against each other’s lazily until the sun finishes setting and the only source of light comes from the bright glow of the moon. And then he pulls away again, hooded eyelids trained on yours.

“Let me take you out. Like, on a date.”

You smile, “Okay.”

don’t forget to reblog if u enjoyed!!<3

taglist: @harryandthatgayvodka @first-one-that-i-see @summertimestyles @bopbopstyles @harrysclementines @emsthoughts @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @clorenafila @harries-gayvodka @harryspinkshoelace@glitterwhore @lovemenowseemenever @dmcupcakexo @happydays @shut-up-and-smile @sisters-of-the-mo0n @fallingslowlyforu @cocoamoonmalfoy @moonlightmaliksblog @sunflowers-styles @harryspirate @slytherinambitious @sunflower6why @harrys-bitch @apples2019 @folkloreearthangel @yellwbrokenblue @sweetwatermelonsugar @harrystyles10 @flammedepigalle @harryinsweatersandbandanas @clean-and-claire @hes-sogolden @wearethedreamrry @froggystyles @marauderswhisperer @afterstylesmadeit @cassiopeiaskies @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @heusedtobegodsfavourite @itisafilthyworld @ursogoldenshan @xaftertastex @pretendsnottoknowthewords @imakillerqueengunpowdergelatine @iconicharry @rileigh1tpwk @stilljosiegrossie @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist@londonmademedoit @harrysleftchelseaboot @pinkpolariodgirl @svnflowervol-6 @tazismysuperfriend @harryspinkshoelace @niabeeah @styleslouvr @foreverandaday-1 @sunflwer-styles @omg-brad @me-a-hopeless-romantic @hhh33-3l @carolina-angel @beequeen8020 @caprisunstyles @stylesfics-xx @luminescencefics @bxtchboy69 @myfavfanficsever @simplyrucas

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prfctparis · 3 years ago

Text

In a Sweet Sunshower

AO3 Link

summary: He Who Brings Rain and The One Who Shines Bright are siblings. It’s fitting that there’s a sunshower during one of the campaigns when their legions team up.

a/n: a few things about Tatooine Slave Culture in this is borrowed from fialleril here on tumblr, so all rights go to them for that. except for the sunshower thing, i came up with it while driving and wrote this as fast as i could and actually kind of proud of the concept ngl. fun fact! zariza’s name mean ‘gold, brilliantly bright’ in hebrew so obviously it means something similar here in this star wars universe.

There’s an old phenomenon, here on Tatooine – from thousands and thousands of years ago back when this place wasn’t all dirt and sand – where the suns shone high in the sky, and voluminous clouds did little to darken the earth below, and rain fell from them, soaking the life on the ground.

It never lasted long, a few or so minutes at most, but it always happened during the hottest season of the year. It was said to be a beautiful sight to behold. The down pouring rain and the bright shining suns, together. Apparently it looked like liquid gold.

Everyone called it a sunshower. All of the Depur took it as a sign for there to be tricksters coming their way. Some of the Amavikka said that it was a sign of hope from one of the ancient prophets – Ekkreth, or Maru, or Tena, or Ebra – or even Ar-Amu to the slaves.

But most said that during it was when slaves became Free for good.

…We haven’t had rain in ages.

Zariza huffs and grimaces. Every single part of her is sweaty and sticky, and the humidity of this planet’s region might actually end up being the death of her. No, not the droids they fought earlier, or the damn Separatists, or even a stray blaster bolt. But the humidity. She knows that hate isn’t a good thing for a Jedi to feel, but she hates it, through and through. The air feels suffocating – the exact opposite of what it should be – and makes the heat of the sun feel hotter than it actually is.

It’s horrible. She says as much to her Jedi Master.

“Yes, humidity does make what we’re doing harder. Unnecessarily so,” Mace agrees, sounding less annoyed and tired than his padawan but Zariza can hear the edge of the emotions in his voice. He isn’t fairing so well in this weather, either.

At least the battle is over. Now they just have to clean up everything.

The leaders of the planet had asked for clean up help once the fighting had ended and they had verbally agreed to officially join the Republic. Of course the 187th and 501st easily promised they would do so. Neither of the legions have somewhere important to be, except for maybe Coruscant or a High Council meeting, and so here they are. Sweating their asses off in the humid heat that somehow feels like a murder attempt.

“Take a break if you need it, Zariza – I don’t want you overworking yourself in this heat. It could be dangerous,” Mace says after a few more moments. Then to Commander Ponds, “Same goes for all of the one-eighty-seventh, Commander. Take as many breaks as you need.”

Zariza sees Ponds nod out of the corner of her eyes, followed by, “Yes sir, General. Lieutenant Spite and a medic squad are collecting bottles of water and setting up tents for shade. I’ve heard that the five-oh-first are doing the same as they work as well.”

“Good.”

Wiping her brow with the bare skin of her bicep, Zariza is glad that she had the foresight to leave her black cloak and outer tunic on the venator-ship. She now only wears the black boots, leggings, and the sleeveless white under tunic, which is now stained with dirt and a few specks of blood but she could hardly care. The troopers did earlier, though, especially at the beginning of the fight – lack of armor meant danger but Zariza wasn’t about to give herself a heatstroke. She at least still wore the braces for her forearms, and the chest plate that she has since taken off.

One of the troopers – Mayhem, she recognizes the armor – hands her a container of water hardly ten minutes later. She smiles gratefully at him and takes it, taking a few sips, and then hands it back. He caps the container, clips it on his belt, and they both get back to work cleaning broken droid parts and other various debris from the fight. Mayhem never strays too far from her. Zariza might have been annoyed by it if she didn’t know that he’s looking out for her.

On the other side of the large area that had been used a battle field against Seppie droids, are the 501st – her brother included. Like her, he has darker robes than the usual Jedi, and had also foregone the outer tunics because of the planet’s heat before battle started. Zariza won’t be surprised if he’s currently completely shirtless by now – a risk for a sunburn, no doubt, with skin much paler than her own, but that’s his problem. She also knows for a fact that Ahsoka is wearing the tube top outfit she wore constantly before Anakin corralled her into wearing something more covering, a few pieces of armor included, just a month ago.

Hell, even Master Mace Windu is shirtless right now, the weirdness of it be damned. Some troopers have started to disappear regularly, leaving in full gear, only to pop up again with the top half of their blacks and armor gone.

Yeah. Humidity karking sucks.

Needing a break, Zariza leans against a lone tree nearby. She can feel the Living Force flowing through it and focuses on that as she catches her breath. Mayhem spots her and brings her more water without question.

“Thanks,” she sighs, and takes another sip.

Mayhem nods, undoing a second bottle from his belt, right next to where his helmet it clipped. He’s shirtless just like many of his brothers, curly hair frizzy as hell. “You’re welcome, sir,” he says. Once he’s had a few sips of his own, he asks, “How much is left in there?”

She shakes it, and shrugs. “Half, maybe?”

He nods again. “I’ll go back to one of the tents and refill it for you soon.”

She smiles thankfully. “Don’t forget to get yourself some.”

Mayhem chuckles. “Of course not, sir.”

After taking another drink, she hands it back just like before. But she doesn’t move to get back to work just yet. Master Mace nudges her in their bond, asking if she’s okay, and she tiredly pokes back to confirm that she is, all the while eying what’s left of the field to clean up. They’re getting there, but it looks like it will take forever. At least Anakin, Ahsoka, and the 501st are tackling the other half; and they’re getting closer, slowly but surely.

Her eyes flit up to the sky, and she spots grey clouds nearby. But, ugh – they aren’t close enough for them to get rained on.

It causes a frown to tug on her lips. A pout, if she wants to be honest about it.

Mayhem chuckles for a second time, more amused than before. “Finally saw the clouds, huh, verd’ika?”

Another trooper nearby stops and looks as well. A wounded noise escape them. “It’s so close but so damn far,” they say, forlorn. What a Force-damned mood.

“This humidity will be the death of me,” Zariza mumbles.

“That’s not happening on our watch,” they say, firm yet exhausted, the sadness about the clouds suddenly gone.

“Damn straight,” Mayhem agrees.

She can only groan.

Once Zariza has rested for a good few minutes, she stands up straight again, but instead of getting to work, she unties the knot of the yellow bandana at the nape of her neck. The wild, dark waves of her hair are no doubt frizzy and wilder than ever; earlier she was positive that she felt the waves grow in size because of the friz and the humidity, and she honestly doesn’t want to know what she looks like because of it. Quickly, she works on putting her long hair into a nerftail and ties it with the bandana.

What feels like ages later, the planet’s sun is beginning to finally lower in the sky and the 187th has done most of their half of the battle field. Through the bond, Zariza can tell Anakin is close by yet she stays lying on the ground, taking yet another much needed break. The clouds are closer, too. Yet still no rain.

The sound of boots crunching the dry, summer grass as someone walks gets closer and louder, up until the person stops right at Zariza’s head, casting a shadow over her. She blinks and tilts her chin to get a better look at who it is despite already having a pretty good guess. Anakin stands over her, sweaty and shirtless, with red tinting his shoulders, chest, and nose. His dirty blond hair is matted with sweat and it sticks to his forehead and the nape of his neck, a few of the short curls frizzed up, and his face is contorted into a scowl.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this,” he says, “but I miss Tatooine’s dry heat.”

“Agreed,” she grunts.

Anakin huffs and steps to her side. He then sticks out his flesh hand, and Zariza forces herself to sit up so she can grab it. He pulls her to her feet and almost immediately lets go once he’s sure she’s balanced well. The humid heat has made the brother-sister who hug every time they see each other, want to not be touching another body in any way for the foreseeable future.

Anakin runs a hand through his hair, grimaces at the sweat, and wipes it on his pants. Disgusting. “Been drinking enough water?” he asks.

She sighs. “Yep. You?”

“Yep.”

“Ahsoka?”

“Yep.” A beat. “Master Windu?”

She almost says ‘yep’ again, but decides not to. “Yeah, him too. Don’t worry.” She smirks. It’s no secret that before Master Mace took her as his padawan, that Anakin couldn’t stand the man. The feeling might have been mutual, but honestly Zariza doesn’t know and doesn’t care to. For now.

Anakin just rolls his eyes and flips her off, walking off to help Captain Rex and a few more guys of Torrent Company.

Ahsoka comes up to her a second later. The younger teen doesn’t say anything, and neither does Zariza. Usually energetic and happy to get her to know her Master’s little sister better, the heat has zapped the togruta of most of her energy. So in silence, they work together on a particularly large piece of debris, and then immediately head to the nearest tent for some much needed shade. Breaks are becoming more frequent, and Zariza thinks that maybe she will have to stop helping if they don’t finish up cleaning soon.

Anakin is already in the tent, along with Master Mace, Captain Rex, and Commander Ponds by the time the girls get there, and the two padawans wave a short greeting to the men before beelining where other troopers are giving out fresh water.

It’s when one of the Boys In Blue (as the GAR has started calling the 501st) hands them both a fresh container when it happens.

The sound of rain pelting the top of the tent makes everyone freeze. It’s obviously still sunny, but that doesn’t stop Zariza or any of the others to turn to check for themselves. And it is – no clouds directly above them at all – yet the rain is falling down, gradually increasing to a steady downpour. She blinks a few times and inches closer to the edge of the tent, and hardly a second later Anakin is at her side, looking out as well, mouth parted in shock.

“A sunshower,” Anakin whispers.

Zariza numbly nods.

Her mind conjures up a faint memory of being told of a phenomenon from hundreds of thousands of years ago on Tatooine. Of sunshine and rain, together. Of liquid gold. Of tricksters visiting Depur. Of a sign of hope to slaves, or a celebration for the Freed.

It doesn’t look completely like liquid gold like Amu’s tales said, but it was close to it. It’s still beautiful. A stunning phenomenon that neither Anakin nor Zariza believed they would ever get to see.

“They don’t last long,” she finds herself saying.

The Skywalkers turn their heads in unison to look at one another. Matching grins of excitement and mischief form, and without any prompting Zariza is taking off into the rain almost as fast as a blaster bolt, Anakin hot on her heels.

Zariza jumps into an already formed puddle. It’s right next to one of the 501st troopers, Jesse, and it splashes him. Zariza may or may not have used to Froce to make the splash bigger, but that doesn’t exactly matter. Just that there’s a sunshower, that her and her brother are both Free, and there’s a fucking sunshower and it’s amazing!

Jesse lunges at her, wanting to retaliate for getting splashed at, but she slips away easily with loud laughter.

From him, anyway – Anakin catches her a second later with water from a puddle cupped in his hands. He promptly dumps it over her head with laughter of his own, then misses up her hair just for the heck of it.

“Wha– ugh, Anakin!”

“Tag, you’re it!” he shouts, as if they’re eight and twelve again in the Room of a Thousand Fountains instead of sixteen and twenty in the middle of a field post-battle.

Zariza gapes at him, but it quickly turns into grins and she chases after him without a second thought.

It doesn’t take long for Ahsoka to join, or even for the troopers. Within seconds, there’s a large game of tag, troopers splashing in puddles, and almost everyone running in the rain with the sun shining down on them, laughter ringing out into the open and so much Light seeping into the Force that Mace can’t help but shove his Commander into the rain as well.

…Yes, we haven’t had rain in thousands upon thousands of years.

But it is said that one day, when the twin suns shine hotly over Tatooine, that clouds will form once again yet they will not obscure the twins from sight, and a downpour of rain will wash over everyone.

All the slaves will be Free, and Depur will no longer have power over us.

We will have a sunshower once more.

#anakin skywalker #tatooine slave culture #star wars #star wars oc #star wars fanfiction #clone wars oc #mace windu #my writing #oc: zariza #take the fear that i don’t need

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kipscorner · 4 years ago

Text

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!”

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

#Christmas Meme #christmas inbox meme #christmas vacation #national lampoons christmas vacation #sentence starters

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the-cheese-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Worthy ~ Prinxiety

Requested by: @pineapplethefish on Wattpad

TW: Crying, angst, hurt/comfort, insults

Word count: 2667

(Human AU)

{Masterpost}

It was warm and sunny, that day in the park where Roman and his best friend Virgil were hanging out. They were sitting together, side by side in the lush, emerald green grass, and simply talking about their general lives.

During one point in the conversation, Virgil bit his lip and fiddled with his hands; a lingering question occupied his mind.

“Hey Roman?” he started. Roman turned to look at him and hummed in response. “I need your help.”

“Help? For what?” Roman’s eyebrows furrowed in concern for a moment.

“There’s… There’s a guy I have a crush on and… I was wondering if you could help me… help me…” he struggled to find the right words, but luckily Roman was there to do it for him.

“Help you gallantly woo him, swoon for you and make him be your husband to be?” he finished, dramatically throwing his hands in the air and holding his heart. Rolling his eyes, Virgil hit him playfully.

“That was so ridiculously melodramatic but basically, yeah,” the emo laughed.

“Well then, that’s exactly what we’ll do,” Roman said. His eyes then widened excitedly as he gasped. “I’m your love expert!”

“Really? You’re referencing Frozen?” Virgil said, rolling his eyes again but also smirking amusingly. Roman simply shrugged.

“Did you really expect me not to?”

Over the next couple of weeks, Roman helped Virgil with anything in order to capture the heart of the boy he fell for. They left notes in his locker, flowers at his desk and letters scattered in places where only he could find them. Since Virgil wasn’t the absolute best at romancing and making his feelings appear more vivid through words, Roman assisted him with writing down what was on his mind and together, they came up with the most beautiful love letters.

During this time however, Roman hadn’t expected to fall for his best friend himself. Virgil was so attentive and observant of this boy that he was able to pick up his mannerisms, the way he talked, acted, it was clear to Roman that he was in love. But he never in his wildest dreams thought that he would end up helplessly in the same position. The way Virgil spoke so affectionately of his crush and how determined he was to make sure that he was receiving only the best gifts warmed Roman’s heart and it wasn’t long before he started to wish that he was the one that Virgil thought of so dearly.

With his feelings increasing more and more, day by day, Roman started to take more notice of his best friend’s physical features, as well his personality.. He didn’t know he hadn’t managed to fall for him sooner, what with the way his hair was always so perfectly placed, his skin was always so smooth, his lips were always slightly chapped but also appeared so soft and how his eyes always lit up brighter than a thousand stars in the sky when he smiled.

There was no denying that by the third month, Roman was hopelessly in love.

***

Valentine’s day was just around the corner, and Virgil had finally mustered up enough courage to ask his crush out. He would reveal that it was in fact him who was leaving those gifts for him the whole time and that he wanted him to be his valentine.

“I’m gonna do it Ro. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to him,” Virgil said determinedly as he walked down the hallway with his friend. Roman’s heart clenched for a moment at the mention of ‘him’. He couldn’t help but get that twisted feeling of jealousy whenever Virgil talked about his crush. But he masked his envy with encouragement, all for the sake of his friend.

“Yes Virgil! I believe in you!” he said with a forced smile. As he opened his locker, Virgil leaned on the side, hugging the books he was holding to his chest.

“But what if he doesn’t like me,” Virgil muttered, making Roman turn to him. “What if he’s straight, or doesn’t like how I look or just doesn’t like me in general, maybe-”

“Virgil stop,” Roman interrupted, holding his friend firmly but gently by the arms. “He will like you.” Virgil appreciated the consolation, but he was still uncertain. He looked down.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Virgil listen to me,” Roman began, releasing his hands from Virgil’s arms and placing them on his shoulders.

“You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. You have been my best friend since 6th grade and there’s no one more deserving of love than you. There are so many things he’ll love about you.”

Tilting his head, Virgil asked, “Like what?” Roman turned back round to his locker.

“Well, for starters,” he said as he closed the door and started walking down the hallway to his next class, Virgil following by his side.

“You’re incredibly kind, attentive of other people, sweeter than sugar, funny, caring, considerate, you’re talent for art is second to none, you have the most angelic singing voice ever in the history of the entire world, your eyes are a gorgeous shade of mocha brown and everything about you is just flawless.”

As Roman listed all the compliments, Virgil stared at him, the whole time. With each word, his heart skipped a beat and his face got hotter by the second. If it hadn’t been for his concealer, his face would have been redder than a rose and his stomach flipped somersaults as his best friend described everything he liked about him.

When Roman finally looked at him, Virgil averted his eyes bashfully, unable to hide a shy smile. “T-thanks, Roman,” he said, gazing up at him momentarily through his purple-tipped fringe.

Though he covered it up well, Roman was screaming on the inside.

‘God, why is he so cute?!’ he thought to himself, though he didn’t let any of it show and remained calm and composed on the outside.

“Of course, Virge.” Finally, they had arrived at the classroom and the two boys greeted each other goodbye, but not before Roman suddenly took his friend’s hand.

“Just to let you know, Virgil,” Roman said with a kind smile, as he gazed intently into his eyes. “Everything I said was all true.” Then, he walked into his lesson, leaving Virgil standing speechless.

Roman’s words were glued to Virgil all day. He couldn’t help but think over and over again whether what he had said was genuine or not and that he somehow had feelings for him. He constantly pondered about it: through his homework, during dinner, right up to before he went to bed. How Virgil had managed to sleep with it all whirling around in his head like a reckless whirlpool, he didn’t know, but morning couldn’t have come quicker and by the time he thought his mind was finally at peace, he was awake again.

However, as he walked to school, he started to brush them all off. ‘There’s no way he could like me. I’m not his type and he was probably just being a good friend. That’s just what friend’s do,’ Virgil thought to himself. ‘Besides, today I should be focusing on Cameron. He’s the boy I should only be thinking about today.’

“Hey Virge!” a voice called to him from his left. Virgil stopped and turned around to see Roman running up to him, instantly smiling upon seeing him. “So? Today’s the day?” he asked. After that question, Virgil knew for certain that Roman definitely didn’t have any feelings for him. Why would he be encouraging him to go after someone else if he wanted him?

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil answered, his voice a little shaky from the nerves. “I’m going to talk to him at the end of the day.” Noticing his anxiousness, Roman placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you’ll be fine,” he said with a reassuring smile, and Virgil returned it.

The end of the day soon came, and Virgil was ready. He found Cameron at the front of the school, possibly waiting for someone, but just before he was going to talk to him, he felt a firm hand hold his shoulder, pulling him back a bit.

Confused, Virgil turned around and was very surprised to see Roman behind him.

“Ro?”

“I- um. I- I just wanted to say…” As Roman struggled to find his words, Virgil stared at him, perplexed. “I just wanted to tell you that…” He took a deep breath.

“Whatever happens I better always stay your best friend,” he finally managed to say with a playful grin. Virgil smiled and hugged Roman tightly, startling him slightly at the sudden gesture.

“Thanks, Ro,” Virgil said, before running off to speak to his crush. Roman watched him go sadly, but smiled to himself, happy to see that Virgil finally found someone to love.

“Hey Cameron?” Cameron lowered his phone and looked at the boy opposite him skeptically.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Caught a little off-guard at his rude tone, Virgil cleared his throat and carried on.

“U-um, you know those gifts you kept receiving in these past months?”

“Yeah, why’d you do it?”

Virgil’s stomach instantly writhed into a knot; did he know it was him that was leaving them all and if so, how did he know? “W-what?” he stuttered, frozen in shock.

“Yeah I figured it was you soon enough. You know you’re not exactly the best at hiding stuff.” Virgil was stunned and hurt to know that he managed to work it out, but still kept leading him on. He opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted.

“You’re such a dumbass, emo. Did you actually think I would ever like… you?” Cameron spat insults at him like he was throwing daggers. Cameron was normally so kind around other people; why was he being so bitter towards Virgil?

“You’re just so weird and quiet and a loner. You’re not my type and I deserve better.” With that last remark, he turned away and scoffed. Virgil stared numbly at the ground, an emotionless expression painted on his face until everything crashed down onto him and he broke down, running away, and not giving a care where his feet would take him. He just needed to get away, anywhere but there.

Rain started to pour down relentlessly, as if to match his mood he darted out of the school, tears plummeting down his cheeks as he furiously tried to wipe them away. He ran to the field where he and Roman usually spent time together, thinking that there wouldn’t be anyone there.

To his surprise, there his best friend was, sitting solemnly and gloomily, where they regularly sat, with his head in his hands, curled into a ball. Virgil had no time or care to think about it however, as he dashed away.

Hearing sniffling from a distance, Roman looked up, only to see Virgil running in the opposite direction.

“Virgil?” he called out, expecting him to stop, but when he didn’t, Roman stood up and started to chase after him.

“Virgil!” he called louder.

Eventually, Virgil ran behind a tree, falling back on it and sinking down as he buried his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably. Finally, Roman was able to catch up but as he approached the tree, he heard Virgil’s muffled sobs coming from behind it. Hearing the sound of his cries and broken appearance shattered Roman’s heart as he came round the tree and as he knelt down to comfort Virgil, he realised that he was shaking.

“Virge?” he said quietly, not much louder than a whisper. “Virge, please. Talk to me.” Roman had a hunch that he knew why his best friend was so upset, but he didn’t want to assume, further causing Virgil more potential pain. “What happened?”

“What do you think?” Virgil answered, his tone hinted with anger but ultimately drowned in despair. Keeping his face buried in his arms, Virgil hid his face from Roman, not wanting him to see him in such distress and disarray - though it was already a little late for that.

Roman looked down in sympathy. In previous days, he would’ve felt just at least a sliver of joy because then he would be free to pursue his crush, however, now was obviously not the time and the sight of Virgil so upset shoved away any positive feelings or emotions he may have had beforehand.

Now, he had been assured that his initial thoughts were correct, but Roman couldn’t help but wonder if something worse had happened. It was only very rarely that Virgil broke down nowadays.

“What else happened Virgil? You wouldn’t be so distraught if he had only said no-”

“I’m not worth it!” he blurted out, making Roman freeze for a second. Virgil’s hands finally fell from his face, unveiling his disheveled hair, his trembling, chapped lips and bloodshot eyes, which betrayed him and exposed his ruined spirit to Roman.

“Not worth what?”

“Not worth anything! He called me weird, quiet, a loner, a dumbass, and that he deserved better and that he would never like me-”

“No!” Roman grabbed Virgil’s shoulders strongly, but gently and stared into his eyes, similar to how he did in the hallway by the lockers that afternoon, but with more determination and desperation this time.

“Virgil Black, you listen to me right now. You are not weird. You are not a loner and you are not a dumbass. It is you who deserves better than him and no, he will never like you, because you are too good for him. You are the most genuine and perfect person I have ever met. Do you know how many times you have brought the sun to shine in my heart on a gloomy day? Do you know how many times your smile has made my heart soar higher than the clouds? You are more extraordinary than you know and you mean and are worth everything… to me.”

At that last line, the clouds clapped, and thunder rang out across the stormy sky. Virgil raised his head and looked at Roman, with wide eyes. The rain continued to cascade down as the tears ceased and he gazed in the gorgeous, deep pools of chocolate brown marbles before him; Roman held his stare, never letting it once falter and smiled kindly at him.

Then, by some force of mysterious nature, both of their eyes flickered to their lips and the two boys were pulled together. As they leaned in closer, Roman gingerly cupped Virgil’s cheek, softly wiping away the few tear stains off his delicate, porcelain skin.

Just before their lips connected however, Roman stopped for a moment and looked Virgil in the eye, silently searching for his permission. When he nodded once, Roman wasted no time in reducing the space between them and captured the emo’s lips in a soft kiss.

The kiss was long and sweet and in that moment, everything felt right for once in the world. Butterflies danced in Roman’s stomach, as well as Virgil’s, as their lips moved together, fitting perfectly like pieces in a puzzle.

When they pulled away, they remained close and their eyes locked. After a couple of seconds, Virgil released a soft chuckle.

“What?” Roman asked with a smile; Virgil’s laughter always brought him pure joy.

“I just find it ridiculous, that it took me this long to fall in love with you.”

Roman grinned at his response, but before he pulled Virgil in for one more kiss, he took the emo’s hands into his own.

“Remember, Virgil,” he began, causing the boy opposite him to look up again. “You are wonderful, you are beautiful and you are worthy. If he wasn’t able to give everything that you deserve, then I promise that I will do all that and more.”

Virgil’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. “You stupid prince, always so dramatic,” he smirked.

After that final remark, Roman pulled him for one more delicate kiss.

#sanders sides #fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #brewrites #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #angst #hurt #comfort #sanders sides au

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depressedtransguy · 3 years ago

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heyy don’t ready this unless you’re @angelwiththeblue-box or I’ll cover you in peanut butter so my dog will eat you and then spray catnip on your legs so my cats will shred them

Loki raced down the palace's steps with the heels of his shoes clicking against the stone, his formerly perfectly done hair bouncing and swishing around his shoulders from his speed, the gel undoing itself as he moved. He could practically hear his servant lecturing him later about making her do it again with only minutes to spare before the jousting. But that small amount of time left was the very reason he was racing down the stairs, headed toward the stables where he knew that the knights were preparing their horses.

On the first Sunday of every month, without fail, the Kingdom of Asgard joined together in their royal coliseum to see the knights battle and win feats for the public's entertainment. And, as the prince, Loki was expected to attend each one for its entirety. When he was younger he found it incredibly boring and complained immensely as an attempt to get out of it, but as he aged and grew into his deep attraction for men, he found himself leaning over the royal box's railing just to get a closer look at their bodies, imagining the sweat beading at their foreheads and muscles flexing underneath the armor, soft grunts released as their swords clashed together. Yes... he was very gay. Especially when the winners pulled off their helmets and waved to the crowd, revealing their ridiculously attractive faces pressed with dirt and sweat. Loki winked down at them, and they winked back. And when he was even older, from a mature teenager to young adult, those winks became sloppy open mouthed kisses covered under the cloak of night and hours of the prince being fucked from behind, his cheek pressed up against the rock walls that bordered the knight's sleeping quarters, bruises growing at his hips while his moans could be heard throughout the entire wing. He had been passed around by quite a few knights by the time he reached 24. Sometimes when one was pounding into him another one would hear and barge in to fuck his mouth.

But that was all before he met Stephen. Dark brown haired with some curling over his forehead, gray eyed, snarky, funny, beautiful Stephen. Yet another knight was he, but one that surprisingly hadn't fucked him yet. They came together around his 25th birthday when Loki was watching the knights practice sparring, and they were all tripping over themselves trying to impress him as usual. Their overeagerness to prove themselves like enthusiastic puppies was adorable. But that time, one stood out among the rest. Stephen. His moves were beautiful and smooth, almost angelic, yet still strong and forceful. He easily topped all the rest. Until, in the middle of their last fight, Stephen spotted Loki staring and biting his lip, and paused then to wink at him. But that stunt got him knocked down and defeated. Loki keeled over cackling.

The man who took him down during the wink-Jeff was his name-struck a strong pose when Loki's laughing had ceased enough for him to look up at the scene, thinking he had won his affection for the night since he had won the training exercise. But when Loki stood up he pushed right past him and kneeled next to where Stephen laid on the ground. Was it worth it? was the first thing he said. Worth winking at you? Yes, I'd certainly say so, was the first thing Stephen said. After that, the two started talking and spent the rest of the day together walking along the grounds to discuss their similar interests with some privacy. That was different than what the knights usually did with him, but Loki was the last person to complain about having someone let him rant about Shakespeare until he was pink in the face. The night took an even weirder direction though. After it grew dark the pair still stayed out to look at the stars for a bit until Loki started to shiver and Stephen offered to walk him to his room. Now that Loki was used to. 'Walk you to your room' was a term that he was familiar with before his nails were tearing holes in his silk sheets. Loki assumed that's what was happening as he found himself backed up against his bedroom door with one of Stephen's hands holding his as the other cupped his cheek and him leaning in. But right before their lips touched, Stephen raised Loki's hand and kissed his knuckles with the whisper goodnight Your Majesty. Then he vanished down to his quarters, leaving the prince confused, irritated, and horribly turned on.

As weeks passed of the pair flirting yet no sex happening, Loki rejected every other knight's passes in his chase to get Stephen. Ironically, Loki despised those stories about how when one party (usually a man) deprived the second party (usually a woman) of either sex or a relationship, and then the second party wants them more. He found them gross and pretty misogynistic. But Stephen was being caring and sweet and kind, not jerkish and neglectful like those stories usually represented the guys, and he was just keeping him teetering on the edge of their relationship taking that step further. It was undeniably hot. Especially as the other knights got angry with Stephen for depriving them too of something. Loki. But he never stopped until once, at last, after a ball that Loki hadn't particularly liked, Stephen and him slowly danced in the empty hall with him in a small green party dress that he prayed would make the knight finally make a move, bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip, and they kissed for the first time. It was electric and soft and groundbreaking and knee weakening and drugging and Loki never wanted it to end. But they had to part for Loki to be shoved against the wall and fucked up into. They didn't even leave the room, Stephen told him that he needed to claim him in public so that everyone would know who he belonged to. At the moment Loki just whined and dug his nails into his biceps, yet somehow when Stephen kept grabbing and kissing him in public, it was even hotter because he meant it.

Especially when it was around the other knights. To try to make Stephen jealous in return for their own envy, having lost their pretty fleshlight as he and Stephen dated, they'd (in deep detail)described their past sexual experiences with the prince at any chance they could. But it never worked. It just made Stephen makeout with him more publicly, grab his ass more, and purposefully fuck him in places where they could be heard or seen by them. Loki was exhilarated to belong to someone who loved him to such an extreme extent.

So, every first Sunday of the month since their relationship had started almost a year prior, Loki wished Stephen luck before the jousting event began. Stephen swore he was his good luck charm. But that day he had overslept, so he was on a time crunch for meeting him. That was why he bounded down the steps, burst out the cast doors, and bolted across the plush lawn (thankfully only tripping once) until the stable was finally in reach. A chorus of whistles and shouts rained down on him as he shoved open the rickety wooden door with his shoulder and went inside.

"Calm down boys," Loki called back slyly as he moved further in, immediately making his way to the stall labeled 'Levi': Stephen's horse. "I'm owned."

As soon as he was close enough Stephen (who looked unfairly sexy in his armor) wrapped his non-sword wielding arm around his partner's waist and pushed him up against the wall, tucking the weapon into his sheath on his belt while he kissed Loki stupid. "Damn right you are," he whispered against his lips with a cocky smirk that made the prince giggle. "I'm glad you're here, I was worried you weren't going to make it. We're leaving in only a few minutes."

"Like I would ever miss this, darling. You'd lose horribly without me."

Stephen chuckled lightly and pressed forward to give him a more pushy and bruising kiss. "I won your affections though."

"First place. No contest. So I suppose you do have that going for you."

There was something just incredibly wonderful about declaring their love in front of so many men who had all plowed Loki like a field. Their heated stares made the couple's kisses only more passionate. But, eventually and unfortunately, the coliseum's bell sounded, signalling to the kingdom to start gathering for the event since it would start soon enough. So with one last adoring kiss, Stephen effortlessly swung over his horse's back and snapped his reins to break him out into a trot. Loki giggled again and gave him a small wave as he passed.

There he stayed in the stable, a stupidly giddy smile on his face as he watched Stephen vanish into the distance, only running back to the castle once all knights had left toward the coliseum and he knew he was most likely royally screwed.

And he was right; as soon as he burst back in through the doors his father was there-already dressed and ready-to scold him. "Loki! Where the hell have you been? The carriage is already ready, the bell has been sounded and- oh of course you're not even dressed, and your hair is a mess. Go upstairs and get fixed up- quickly. You have five minutes or we're leaving without you," Odin lectured, picking apart the flaws he already knew about one by one. But Loki was only really caring when he got to the threat. As previously stated, he didn't really care for the fights when he was younger, so the ultimatums then were more about not letting him bring his books to distract himself during the event. But as he grew gayer and Odin caught on that he actually liked it then (although he didn't know why), he started warning for the opposite.

Even though Loki was technically an adult, he still had to listen to his father as the king, so he jumped up the stairs three at a time until he finally reached his oversized bedroom on the top floor. His servant was already waiting for him.

"Oh, Loki, your hair!"

"Yes, yes, I know, I know, Darcy, could you just fix it really quick? I have five minutes."

She huffed loudly and was most likely not going to be gentle, but she motioned for him to stand on his dressing platform as she pulled over a stool nonetheless, other servants joining in to dress him quickly as she cleaned up his untamed locks. "I have no idea how you do this every time, I feel like I do this six times a day," Darcy grumbled as she climbed up on her stool, bobby pins held between her teeth and a brush already ready. The three other workers collected his clothing items for the event and started to help strip him down, then helping him fasten the new and exceedingly more fancy fabrics to his body until he was acceptable done up. Gold embroidered green jacket, stupidly tight but alluring black pants, matching boots, and a black cape colored in yellow underneath to match his mother. A minute or two after they had finished Darcy's work came to a close as well, ending up creating a small bun at the back of his head with two braids following from his hairline to the knot, and two loose pieces of hair framing his face in the front. "There we go," she murmured as she lowered his crown onto the top of his head and pinned it down. "Now if you screw this up, I will make all of your hairstyles from now on uncomfortably tight. You understand?"

Loki nodded as he patted the sides of his head, observing himself in the large mirror before them. He knew she wasn't kidding. "I'll do my best."

"You better." The two gave each other a faire la bise as a goodbye and he thanked her and the other servants before he slipped out of the room, hurrying down the steps once more with the same goal of seeing his boyfriend, but with the poise and grace that he was forced to keep in order to maintain the outfit and hair.

Odin still huffed when he reached him though, although this time Thor and Frigga were with him. "Finally. Now let's go, we shan't be late." Loki only smiled at his mother while rolling his eyes at his father as soon as his back was turned. Thor just avoided eye contact all together, them still not talking about when Loki walked in on him sleeping with the stable boy with fewer brains than Thor's childhood rock collection. But, despite the differences, they made their way down the steps and climbed into their designated carriage as a family.

Although Loki's mind wandered as soon as the horses' reins were snapped.

I wonder how Stephen's doing.

Seated in the royalty box with his mother, father, and brother all seated to his right, Loki bounced his leg in impatience, waiting for the games to officially begin and for Stephen to come out. Right then they were just prepping the area and a few spare knights were fighting. None of them Stephen. When he was a bit younger, older than when he was disinterested but before their relationship, Loki was certainly more invested in all of the event over just some of it, imagining either what they'd done to him or what they'd do to him for each one, but just the pure rush and excitement he got from seeing Stephen do... anything certainly made up for everything and more. But for now that feeling was withheld from him, and he'd have to wait. Stephen did always like to make him wait. Called his impatience cute and covered his body in hickies until he declared that he was whining enough.

Loki breathed deeply through his nose and pressed his thighs together and attempted to change the mental subject, being in front of his family for that matter, although his exhibionism wasn't really helping him to calm down.

Thankfully though he did manage to relax enough to pull a small book of Shakespeare out of his pocket and distract himself with the ridiculousness of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to wait until he was able to have Stephen all to himself in at least four hours. Jousting, sparring, chariot racing, etc etc, as well as the following cleaning up and Loki being able to escape from the royal grasp would unlikely take any less time.

Stephen had actually told him two nights prior as they lay in his bed, legs and fingers intertwined, that he had something special planned for them after that specific Sunday event. Loki questioned what it was, but the knight had just grinned and told him that it was a surprise. No matter how much Loki pouted he still wouldn't tell him. Cruel is what he had called him while also allowing Stephen to cover him in kisses.

But Loki did enjoy the element of surprise. Although sex was a pretty wonderful part of their relationship, the romantic element was something that he did thoroughly enjoy too, both getting something secret prepared for him and getting to prepare something secret for his partner filling him with a true boyish excitement that he hadn't experienced in years- if ever. His leg began to bounce in a more positive way. He was already thinking up what to do in return. Loki wanted him and Stephen to just keep giving each other romantic surprises for the rest of their lives.

A trumpet suddenly blasted from above and Loki was shaken out of his thoughts, forcing him to look up and observe the beginning of the event instead of thinking about the life he wished for him and the knight to have together, but the negativity of the interruption immediately washed away as he saw Stephen walk out into the arena to the roar of the cheering crowd, helmet tucked underneath his arm with his gorgeous smiling face presented to the world. Loki grinned from ear to ear and immediately leaned forward to get closer.

Despite their distance Stephen noticed him as he turned to wave at more of the crowd, casting a small wink up into the stands, making a few country people screech and squeal, but Loki knew it was just for him. Stephen told him it had always been him, ever since he first saw him, he being 19 as a beginning knight and Loki being two years younger at the time. Loki had felt bad at first for not remembering that, but Stephen had comforted him by saying he had his helmet on, so he wouldn't have been able to recognize him by face anyway. Then he kissed him until the prince was left breathless and grinning.

#also maraplankon you can read this #i just didn't get a response so no pressure #heyyyy hope you like this i had a lot of fun writing this and i am definitely not done but i still really wanted to share

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noirlevity · 4 years ago

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Tough Love 24

Pairing: Mikorei Fandom: K project. Synopsis: Mikoto and Reishi are both Kings of warring kingdoms. With the Red Kingdom getting more and more powerful, it was threatening to crush the Blue Kingdom. As the Blue King, Reishi wanted to end conflict even it means throwing away his body and dignity. TW: dubcon, rape, abuse Read: a03 || ffnet A/N: Smut.

“Munakata…”

“Don’t say anymore, idiot.” Reishi roused himself. Supported by his elbow, he pulled Mikoto by the nape of the neck to kiss him.

“I told you I want it.” Reishi crooned. He’s aroused.He couldn’t help himself. Being this near to Mikoto made him crave for his body heat.

“I want it. I want you.”

Provocations like these were all Reishi could do to make his desire known. He’s still trembling a little at their nearness. The warmth of Mikoto’s breath on his face reminded him of painful things. The conflict mixed in his gut and the danger he felt made him sigh yet was not enough to deter him from planting wet kisses on Mikoto’s mouth. The kisses started soft, then became hurried and long. Mikoto stayed still, accepting it with eyes starting to glaze. Reishi tilts his head to kiss the other side of Mikoto’s mouth moaning softly as he worshipped it.

It’s been a long time since he felt like this. It was as if he was going to lose himself as he clung to Mikoto’s lips.

Mikoto cursed when Reishi inserted his tongue. The two of them don’t share deep kisses and it’s making his head spin. He pulled Reishi in and responded to the kisses with the same vigor. The intensity of their kiss was hypnotic. Reishi moaned as Mikoto sucked his tongue and licked the crevices of his mouth.

Was this also how he kisses Totsuka? Was this also the same kisses he gives her when they do it? Was there even a difference between kissing the beloved and the enemy?

The thoughts were painful but it was something he knew couldn’t be helped. At this time, Reishi just wanted to be fucked. He just wanted to fuck. He remembers Mikoto’s confession and breaks their kiss, eyes glazed from lust, panting heavily next to Mikoto’s ear. He noticed Mikoto’s throbbing cock that was already hard for him.

“I’ll do everything. Just sit back and relax.”

In the past, when they meet to have sex, Reishi does his utmost not to look at Mikoto and just wait for things to end. Now, Reishi couldn’t help but stare at how erotic Mikoto’s dick looked as he leaked precum. The large vein that snaked up his length made him feel even hotter and harder. He touched him and massaged his massive cock.

Damn. Reishi couldn’t help but curse. No wonder whenever he resisted him, he would end up hurting more. With a manhood like this, surely it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take him.

Reishi swallowed a lump in his throat.

Fuck. Excitement made Reishi shiver. The warm thing in his hand twitched as he accidentally squeezed it. He looked up and caught Mikoto’s aroused face. The redhead pulled him in to kiss him hard. The slick sounds his handjob made, made his hole feel empty. He played with himself using the lube-like ointment he found with the supplies.

Pushing Mikoto back, he adjusted his glasses and began to lick Mikoto’s length. He planted wet kisses and sucked from time to time. Reishi didn’t expect the day would come that he would actually do this for Suoh Mikoto, his enemy, the person he hated.

Looking at the blue king giving him head, Mikoto couldn’t help but feel a clench in his loins. He licked his lips and moaned as he looked at Reishi’s sunken cheeks. The sight of Reishi’s mouth enveloping his manhood made him feel even more aroused.

Reishi bobbed his mouth up and down Mikoto’s dick. Mikoto, unable to stop himself, grabbed him by the chin and kissed him hard. Reishi was surprised when Mikoto licked his tongue again and again. The thought of Mikoto tasting himself as he sucked on his tongue gave him gooseflesh.

He was right, Mikoto could taste himself in Reishi’s mouth but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind no matter how wrong this scene looked.

“Barbarian…” Reishi admonishes as he hovered his mouth on Mikoto’s own. He still gives him another kiss before pulling away.

“Look closely.”

A smirk was painted at Reishi’s mouth when he positioned his ass above Mikoto's hard cock. Slowly, he inserted it inside and took time to lower himself to take it all in. The feeling of having something inside of him was not something new to him. Mikoto always fucked like this. Since he hasn’t been doing this for a while now, it was not easy for him to put Mikoto’s huge thing in.

He was not going to lie and say he didn’t enjoy it. The truth was he found satisfaction in the pain that it caused. In fact, it made him even feel hotter that he couldn’t help but moan in pleasure.

“You’re so tight.” Mikoto drawls as Reishi clenches around him.

The friction between skins felt good when Reishi began moving up and down Mikoto’s length.

“Suoh…” Reishi whined. Mikoto devoured his mouth as he thrust deeply.

The act gave Reishi a mix of pleasure and humiliation. It was only natural because up until now, whenever the two of them had sex, he only felt shame and confusion. For some reason, now he felt incredibly good.

It was a weird feeling.

He doesn’t quite understand it himself.

As he moved, Reishi realized that he wanted to be pushed down and be fucked hard. He realized he wanted to be owned and treated roughly. He remembered those times Mikoto played with his body in an attempt to give him both pleasure and punishment. It was painful because he resisted it until he couldn’t anymore. But just like the first time they fucked, when they were still negotiating the armistice, he had his way just like this—riding him.

Mikoto grabbed Reishi by the shoulder and pushed him down underneath him. He couldn’t resist anymore.

“Your wound!”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Mikoto thrust deeper, making Reishi cry.

“Ahhn!”

Reishi wrapped his arms around Mikoto’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss as the redhead continued pounding him.

“Mmmm… Aaaah…”

Tears started pooling at the corner of Reishi’s eyes as he held tightly onto Mikoto.

“Suoh.. Aaah…. It feels good..”

Mikoto was edging closer to his climax as Reishi heaved his name.

When Reishi tightened his arms around him, Mikoto pulled out and came all over Reishi. After a few seconds, Reishi also came. The image of Reishi covered in his cum was the most erotic thing Mikoto had ever seen in his life. His heaving chest and lust-glazed eyes made Mikoto want to fuck again. It was not his call to make though. Instead, he searched for something to wipe Reishi off.

“Suoh... “ Reishi whispered tiredly.

“Mmm?”

“If only things were different.” The blue king looked away when he said that.

It came off as a shock honestly. Just recently, he was tormenting him. When somehow they both remembered their first meeting, and after hearing Reishi’s confession, Mikoto realized that he'd done something that was unforgivable. He shouldn’t have blamed Reishi for the death of his parents. He shouldn’t have been obsessed with vengeance. When he saw him again as two leaders of opposing kingdoms, he didn’t think Reishi would forget what he did. He thought he'd be surprised to see him again. He thought he'd hate him as much as he did but there was none of that. Curiosity was all there was in the blue king’s violet eyes. There was also confidence. The blue king was confident that Mikoto would play by his tune, when he realized it was far from the truth, he tried seduction instead.

Sure the Blue King was beautiful. It was not difficult to be attracted to someone like him. But Mikoto’s hatred towards him wasn’t easy to dispel. Reishi had been desperate. It made Mikoto wonder why he was desperate like that to the point of throwing away his body and his dignity. The time when they fucked inside Reishi’s royal carriage, Mikoto remembered feeling taken aback at being desired. His enemy desired him. He could feel it in the way he peppered his face with hungry kisses, In the way he looked at him whenever they met to discuss things.

It was enough to make him angry.

‘Does Reishi even realize?’ was all he could think. He wanted to crush him. He wanted the blue king to respond to his hate with hatred as well. Before he knew it, it spiraled out of proportion. When his hatred turned to lust and affection started growing out of it, Reishi continued responding with hatred while he was overcome by guilt and consequence…. that is until yesterday.

When he was done cleaning Reishi, he snuggled up to him and slept beside him.

----

The rain finally let up in the morning. Mikoto and Reisi walked towards Reishi’s estate. When they arrived at Reishi’s estate, they were greeted by the surprised faces of Reishi’s attendants. They were all worried about Reishi. When they saw Mikoto with him they almost panicked. They all knew how much Reishi hated the man so it was a surprise that the two of them seemed to have spent the night together without problems. It also seemed that their king had gotten closer to the red king.

Mikoto didn’t notice their stares. He was preoccupied by the place. It was familiar. Because it was a bit near the house where he used to live, it somehow brought some memories back.

Reishi asked one if his attendants to fetch Mikoto a doctor and another one to prepare a room for the general. He announced that in the meantime he was going to allow Mikoto to rest in his bedroom. The maids looked at each other as they bowed before preparing breakfast and Mikoto’s room.

When they arrived at Reishi’s room, Reishi opened the curtains. He was about to change his clothes when he felt Mikoto hug him from the back. Reishi blushed and admonished the redhead in his mind. To distract himself, he decided to change the topic.

“When did your condition start?”

“I don’t know. It was not always like this. I wasn’t born to have a body that has difficulty clotting its wound.”

Reishi dragged Mikoto to the bed and motioned for him to lay down. Mikoto followed obediently and patted his side, motioning Reishi to lay beside him. However, Reishi only sat on the bed and gazed down at Mikoto. His brows furrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that. It's the truth.”

Reishi sighed.

“But maybe this is the product of that curse they were saying.”

“What?”

“The rumor, that any one who tries to harm the Blue King will be punished.”

“Ridiculous.” Reishi rolled his eyes.

“For a leader of such a religious nation, you sure act like an atheist.”

“I don’t believe in those kinds of things. I only believe in science and divine providence, not baseless rumors and myths.”

“Don’t worry. Even if I’m gone, they’ll be others who will protect the kingdom.”

Reishi flicked Mikoto’s forehead, earning a frown from the redhead.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Mikoto smirked and held Reishi’s clenched hand.

“Munakata… I’m sorry.”

“Idiot.”

“I love you.” Mikoto says matter of factly.

Reishi looked away and said,

“A lot of things has happened between us. We’ve both hurt each other in some ways you know. But I’m glad you took the initiative to make things right.”

Reishi swept away the tufts of hair that covered Mikoto’s eyes.

“Rest first and then we’ll eat when you wake up.”

Mikoto pulled Reishi to kiss him on the cheek.

“Stay with me. We only have a few days together before we return.”

Returning meant both going back to each of their families. Reishi clenched his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat. It was weird really, that he still feels frustrated at the thought that Mikoto decided to marry without even telling him first. It was true that as retaliation he also announced his marriage. But this was because he wanted to show Mikoto that he was not foolish to want to possess him as well. He wanted to show him his thoughts and actions were his but...

“Mikoto’s going to be married” as Izumo said those words it felt as if his world had shattered. He didn't know why that pained him enough to feel his heart sink. It was hard pretending nothing was wrong, that he was perfectly alright. However, he had to keep appearances because Izumo closely observed him.

Reishi declined Mikoto’s offer. He didn't need to get attached even more. Mikoto after all didn’t suffer from the same guilt as he did.

It was not easy to understand what Reishi was thinking. Mikoto had the inkling that maybe he was thinking about that tundra woman. He let it slide. They both needed a break.

----

“How is he doctor?”

“There seems to be nothing wrong with his body.

“His wounds do coagulate, only slowly and.. Yes.. but anyone will die if they are wounded critically..

“Have you been feeling unwell general? If so since when?”

“No.. I’m fine. I haven't been feeling unwell.”

“If that is so, then there is nothing to worry about. I’ll give you medicine and tips on how to maintain your body so that the speed of your coagulation will improve.”

“So it’s not a curse after all?” Mikoto chuckled.

“No. But you still have to take care of your body, your highness. Even if you're the strongest warrior, you won’t be for long if you don’t take care of your health.”

The doctor excused himself, leaving both Mikoto and Reishi alone.

“Isn’t it great? You can’t die from being only wounded once after all.”

“Why? Were you happy if it turned out to be true?”

Reishi huffed. The idiot didn't notice that Reishi was actually quite worried for him. The blue king was grateful for it.

“Let’s eat. Breakfast is ready.”

While they were eating, Reishi talked about a piece of information that was just sent earlier to them.

“While you were asleep I was informed that the tribal wars in the south had worsened and are threatening something close to a civil war in the area. We need to intervene as soon as possible and aim for the tribes to make peace.”

“Was the information from Izumo?”

“Yes. I already informed him that you are at my estate this morning. It seemed like the messenger got lost because he couldn't find you in Rahsti.”

“Munakata… be careful around Izumo. He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“Really?”

“The guy’s not bad. It’s just that he gets greedy when he wants something.”

“But aren’t the two of you friends?”

“We are…”

“Then what’s the problem? Surely he won’t touch anyone who is already with another? He isn’t scum like that right?”

“Yeah. You’re right. But the guy’s quite the obsessive freak behind that calm demeanor of his.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

Mikoto just stared at Reishi finding the right timing to ask him to accompany him to visit his parent’s tomb.

#mikorei #k project #suoh mikoto #munakata reishi #k #fics

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 59)

Split

So this chapter’s a little different (it’ll be back to normal next chapter if you don't like it so don't worry). It contains graphic descriptions of violence and injury, mention of sexual assault (none actually takes place, it is only mentioned), lottttsss and lots of conflict and betrayal. But we aren’t seeing it through the eyes of our girl...

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Jet huffed and grunted beneath me as I urged him forwards at a gallop. The day I'd had was long and full, and all I wanted was to crash land by the campfire, eat some meat and have one of the beers I'd snuck into my satchel. Just lay back underneath the stars and have a warm body come up beside me, the finest company I could imagine.

I thought about the events of the day, about Eagle Flies, how he'd been captured by the army. How Dutch had somehow had me leaping off a cliff into brutal rapids with nothing but faith, it must've been pure luck that I didn't land on a rock and snap my neck, or hit my head and drown. I remembered Dutch's bullshit about change and gravity, his words seeming flowery and empty, in a way I couldn't believe I hadn't heard before. In my mind I saw Bacchus Bridge collapse over and over, mindless destruction with the wishful purpose of making noise and somehow helping us lot out of here. Dutch's bidding. Nearly got me and Marston killed, flattened by a damn train, though what was new?

Every day I seemed to find myself at the brink of some other gruesome death. Every day I seemed to be pushing my luck further and further. Soon enough my luck would run out, but I had to do my best. I had someone worth surviving for and goddamn it, I wasn't gonna let something kill me before I'm old and grey with her at my bedside.

I saw a glow across the river as I approached Brandywine drop. I followed the trail 'round, over the train tracks and across the water where it was shallow enough to pass, and made my way closer to the occupied spot. I assumed that was our camp for the night, and I saw the tent pitched, but no person, and I figured she was inside, sheltered from the wind that was a little stronger that night than normal.

I dismounted as I got close enough, leaving Jet next to where Rayna was already stood grazing. I gave the big girl a pat on the neck as I passed her, and she huffed and flicked that makeshift cotton tail of hers, braided into the short length from her dock. I spotted a sketchbook laying open on the ground, a half-finished sketch of the Ardennes on the page.

"Hey sweetheart, it's me," I called out, my footsteps crunching through twigs as I approached the tent, expecting to see a pair of boots poking out, frowning when I saw none. I crouched a little, carefully pulling the flap of the tent back, only for it to be empty. "Sweetheart?" I called louder as I straightened up–

Snap.

I spun around, hand going to my revolver, drawing it.

"Woah, woah, woah, easy now, Mr. Morgan, you might not want to do that," said some smug looking bastard in a suit and a bowler hat, reeked of Pinkerton before he even introduced himself, "we're with the Pinkerton Detective Agency."

"Yeah, no shit," I spat through gritted teeth, eyes darting as four more of the bastards emerged, surrounding me. Every one of them had their sights trained on me. "What've you done with her?"

"Your lady friend? Oh, don't you worry, she's fine. Got a couple of the boys keeping an eye on her as we speak," I didn't like the way his moustache twisted with his smirk and I kept my hand closed around the revolver.

"You think I won't kill every last one of you? I swear to Christ if that lady has a single hair out of place when I find her, I'll string you up by your ball-sack and drag you all the way to Armadillo behind my horse," I spat, knuckles turning white around my gun.

"You won't get the chance to, you're surrounded, Mr. Morgan. Drop the gun or we'll be forced to shoot."

"I get it, you want me. That's fine. You got me," I began, loosening my grip only slightly, lifting both hands up, still not letting the weapon go, "but let the lady go, she ain't done nothing wrong. She's just been tagging along since she fell on hard times."

"Drop the gun," he repeated.

My eyes closed, I thought for a moment. If I let them have me, there was no telling what they'd do to her. I highly doubted they'd let her go, and I didn't trust any of them not to take advantage. I couldn't leave her under their control. I couldn't leave her.

"Okay," I breathed, "I'm gonna put it down," I began to bend my knees, getting low, leaning forwards in a way that shielded most of my torso, and made me as small a target as possible. It would be an absolute miracle if I got out of this without a bullet in me, and I could only hope that they'd miss my head. But I had to give it a shot.

I lowered my hand towards the ground, my eyes fixed on the main agent's face. He was smirking. A flash of rage gave me the push I needed, and I swung my arm up fast, locking onto him, pulling the trigger and catching a glimpse of the cloud of blood replacing his head as I lunged sideways in an attempt to dodge the bullets that instantly began raining down. I grunted as I collided with the ground, chest taking the brunt, but I couldn't stop to catch my breath before scrambling towards the nearest thing I could call cover. A tree was the best I was offered, but I took it, hissing as the outside of my ribs felt as though it'd been kicked by a horse, then began to burn hotter than a branding iron.

"Shit!" I growled, dragging in a sharp breath before pushing myself to twist around the tree – sending further pain flourishing across my chest – to fire at the men while they had to reload. I fired twice in quick succession, ripping a hole in one guy's throat and another in someone else's chest. They both went down with a mix of cries and gargles.

More bullets flew past my head, and I sucked everything in, panting and cursing under my breath as I turned sideways, praying the tree would be thick enough to shield me as they tried to land a shot. With two left, one made a run for me, spraying wildly with his gun like a maniac, allowing me to shoot him through the side of his skull just as a bullet splintered through the treebark right above my head. A puff of air left my lungs and a sound akin to a whimper went with it. My chest throbbed and I tentatively pressed a hand there, it came away smeared with blood.

It was silent. There was one Pinkerton left, unless there were more hiding in the surrounding areas. I couldn't think of that though; I had to focus on the ones that I knew existed before I worried about anything else. He wasn't shooting though. I didn't know where he was. I carefully peeked around the edge of the tree, catching a glimpse of him before a bullet soared past my head; the bastard was crouched behind a rock, his gun trained on me, just waiting for me to move.

I sighed and looked up towards the sky.

"Alright!" I called out, taking a gamble on the assumption that if there really were other Pinkertons around, they'd have shown themselves by then, "I surrender."

"Drop the weapon," he called back.

I held out the gun so he could see, then threw it aside.

"Empty your other holster," he added, and with a sigh I tossed my secondary pistol aside. "Keep your hands up and come out from behind the tree."

"Alright, alright, jus– just promise me you ain't gonna shoot," I pleaded.

"You're worth more alive," he responded, "but no funny business, or I'll plant one right between the eyes."

"Okay. I'm coming out," I said, gingerly stepping out from behind the tree.

"Come here, stop right here," he ordered, pointed towards a spot on the ground a few steps before him. He emerged from behind the rock as I did as I was told. He crept closer to me, his eyes wide; he looked like a rabbit, all twitchy and nervous. He let go of his repeater with one hand so he could reach for his cuffs, but he still had his finger precariously on the trigger, the butt of the gun balancing against his chest like he'd never held one before. It was clear he was out of his depth, taking me alone.

I took the opportunity as soon as he was close enough to swing my leg up, kicking the gun clean out of his hands. Then I pounced, tackling him to the ground as he shouted out in surprise. He wrestled with me for a while, grunting, landing a punch to the wound at my ribs. I growled in agony but kept my weight on him, quickly regaining my power over him. With a hand clamped over his throat, I slammed my other fist into his face, once, twice, over and over until my face was speckled with his blood and his struggles and cries died down beneath me.

Discarding his limp body, I got up breathlessly and shook out my aching knuckles, quickly marched over to my weapons and picked them up from the ground and re-holstered them. Panting, I looked down at my torso, pulling my shirt out of my jeans, lifting it and ripping open the bullet hole in my union suit to get a look at the damage. A bullet had torn past my side, taking a chunk out of me just beside my ribs, but luckily missing any organs.

"Jesus," I breathed, inspecting my bloodied hand, unsure of how much was mine and how much was his.

Jet had bolted during the gunfight, so I whistled for him. He came trotting from between some distant trees, Rayna loyally following him. My hand shook as I wiped it on my trousers, and I took unsteady steps towards the horses. I was about to mount, had my foot in the stirrup, when I paused; my body seemed to sag, exhaustion suddenly hitting me out of the blue. I took a moment to steady myself, pressing my forehead against the saddle, gripping my side with my hand. Five seconds of rest was all I allowed myself, breathing deep and catching my breath, then I pulled myself up into the saddle.

But where was I going?

I swivelled my head, looking around. My mind was blank. I didn't have a fucking clue what to do. Where was she? I had to look for her, right then, but with no idea where to start, no idea how many Pinkertons were guarding her, and with a hole in my side… I was useless. With a sharp sigh, I pulled on Jet's reins, riding him back towards Beaver hollow as fast as he would go.

–

The lather on Jet's coat was the thickest it'd been since running after the Valentine Bank heist, but I arrived at Beaver Hollow in good time, as half the camp was starting to bed down for the night. Charles was on guard duty, and he called out to me when I arrived, demanding I identify myself.

"Charles! It's me, I– I need help," I yelled back, halting Jet a few steps away, clutching my tender side.

"Arthur! What the hell? Your horse looks like it's– you're hurt," his eyes bugged wide when he stepped closer and saw me better, trained on the blood smeared on my fingers and soaked into my shirt.

"I'm fine, it's the–"

"You're not fine," he glanced behind me at Rayna who walked to join the other horses, "shit, where is–"

"She's been captured by Pinkertons. They was waiting at our camp when I got there, I killed 'em, was lucky they didn't send too many men, thought I'd co-operate pro'ly, considerin' they have someone important to me," I told him breathlessly, my head dropping down as the pain in my side drained the energy from me. Charles stared at me with wide eyes for a moment, frozen.

"Arthur, get down from the horse, let's look at you," he reanimated, speaking carefully and reaching his hand out.

"What's happening over there?" John's voice carried over to us, and I looked up to see more people noticing my arrival.

"We gotta go, Charles. I need help, I can't save her alone, not with this," I gestured to myself.

"John, go get Susan. Arthur's hurt," Charles turned and called.

"No! There ain't no time. If she's been captured we've gotta go find her before they– they–" I stammered, shaking my head, leaning away from Charles' outstretched hand.

"We'll go as soon as we've done something about that," he pointed to my wound, "you're no good to her bleeding out."

"Arthur! What are you doing?" Dutch yelled, marching across camp with Micah in tow. I sighed heavily, slid down off of Jet and met Charles' eyes for a moment.

"It's the Pinkertons. They found our camp and they took… took…" I sighed, frowning to myself. "I don't know how they even knew about her and me."

"I'm sorry?" Dutch frowned as he got closer.

"They knew we were together. They took her so they could capture me but how'd they even know I'd be bothered?" I thought aloud.

"Arthur," Charles' low, quiet voice sounded as he touched my arm. I lifted my hand away from my wound and helped him pull up my shirt to inspect it.

"I'm fine, just grazed."

"Arthur, you haven't exactly been subtle these past weeks, running off with her and camping out together. Someone was bound to see you sooner or later," Dutch called out. I frowned for a moment, dread settling deep in my gut. I pushed it out of my mind for the moment, though.

"Dutch, I need some folks to ride with me, to go find her–"

"Son, you know that's exactly what they want," Dutch tilted his head at me, brows arching sympathetically but even I could see the emptiness behind his eyes, "they're banking on you turning up, with or without a couple others, so they can take you in."

"No shit, Dutch, I know that's what they want. That don't mean I'm gonna sit back and do nothing!" I raised my voice, and I felt Charles look up at me. He didn't seem too concerned about my injury, and dropped my shirt back down.

"They'll let her go soon enough. They ain't got nothing on her, don't play their game, Arthur," Dutch warned and I stared at him, mouth agape.

"He's right, Morgan. They can't keep her for long, all she's guilty of is knowing us," Micah chirped, widening his arms to gesture to the group. More people crowded 'round, listening in. "Leave her. I'm sure she'll understand," he added, his mouth coming up into a twisted smile.

"Are you serious, Dutch? You're saying I should leave her there in the hope they'll just… let her go in what– a few days? Weeks? When she ain't got no more teeth left to pull or fingers to break? You know they'll do whatever they damn well please to try and get her to talk!" I yelled, taking a brisk step forwards only for Charles to stop me with a hand on my shoulder. He was wise to do that.

"No they won't, she's a woman! They ain't gonna hurt an innocent woman–"

"No, you're right, she's just a woman," I began softly, my voice turning sharper for the next part, "they probably won't rip her teeth out but they might just line up one by one and have their way with her! Come on Dutch, you ain't as naive as that."

"You're catastrophising, just calm down!" Dutch held his hands up to me and glared.

"Yeah, anyway, let the girl have a good time, if that's what happens, then it happens," Micah added, and even Dutch turned to look at him for that one. I wasn't in control of myself when my hand swung up and somehow my gun was in it.

"You test me again, fucker and I'll blow your head clean off, I promise," I yelled at him, my hand shaking where it held the gun trained dead on his face, my finger dangerously tense on the trigger. It would be so fucking easy.

"Calm. Down!" Dutch shouted, his voice breaking with its volume. Charles gingerly touched my arm, pushing it down. I took a deep, shaky breath, not once taking my eyes off of Micah.

"I'm going to get her, Dutch. Damn what you say, I'm sorry," I muttered, shaking my head. I holstered my gun then turned and climbed back up onto Jet's back.

"I'll come too," Charles said, sticking his fingers in his mouth and whistling for Taima.

"Charles–" Dutch went to protest, only for John to mount up, capturing his attention. "John!"

"I'm coming too," he said, meeting my eyes. "If this was Abigail, I know you'd do the same."

I glanced to where Abigail was listening, expecting some sort of plea for him to stay, but she only smiled softly.

"I'll come," Sadie called out from beside her. "That girl saved my life once, it's fitting I return the favour."

"People! This is your goddamn funeral! Do my warnings only fall on deaf ears?" Dutch growled, his face reddening with rage. He was ignored as Sadie mounted up, and my three companions trotted over to my side. I turned Jet, and we set off up the path immediately, not looking back.

My blood thrummed in my veins and made me feel like I was being boiled, the adrenaline in my system dulling the pain as we galloped away from camp. I lead the group, hearing the thump thump thump of hooves at my side and behind me, like we were moving as one cloud of fury and determination. This felt different to all the times I'd ridden together in a group with Dutch up ahead. I couldn't describe it.

"They took her from our camp at Brandywine drop," I yelled out to them, "my thinking is we head back there and look around, try and see if we can find some tracks."

"Might be difficult if there's a busy path, but we'll try," Charles replied.

"I can't believe Dutch was just gonna leave her," John started, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Actually, I can. He didn't even wanna help me."

"Exactly, I should've known he wouldn't show the barest of concern," I replied.

"Speaking of concern, you're bleedin' some, Arthur. You sure you're okay?" Sadie questioned. I couldn't think about myself. As injuries went I'd had much worse and come out just fine. It would wait.

"Ain't that bad, Sadie. I'll be fine. This is more important," I told her. Nobody argued with me. "Thank you, all of you. I can't tell you– this just means a whole lot, you being by my side."

"Any time. You've helped with the things that are important to me in the past, those Bison in The Heartlands? And today with Rains Fall? I thought it was about time someone showed you the same willingness to help," Charles told me, and I nodded.

"You're my brother, Arthur. You know that," John added. "And she's… I guess that makes her my sister, in a way. And it's like Dutch says, never leave love aside," he said with a satirical laugh.

"We can't start leaving people to rot," Sadie called.

"It's all talk with him. Spoutin' nonsense about loyalty and sticking together, but he don't give a damn when one of us actually needs help. Why he ain't no better than the likes of Cornwall, using people for his own gain, and cutting them off when they stop being of use," I muttered, my jaw clenched tight. All I felt when I thought of Dutch was rage and bitterness. It was a feeling I never thought possible. "If he thought I'd roll over and leave the one person who's ever really seen me–" I stopped suddenly, clamping my mouth shut.

"We'll get her, Arthur," Sadie assured me.

"I'm done being his fool," I spat.

"You and me, both," John agreed, "how'd they find her anyway?"

"The Pinkertons have been patrolling this whole area," Charles noted. I frowned and shook my head.

"Yeah, but they ain't been nowhere near us. And even if they did, how'd they recognise her?"

"She was at camp when the Pinkertons showed up at Clemens Point," John said, and I released a sigh.

"Sure, but that was two fellers who saw her for a few seconds, just… just seems unlikely, is all," I muttered.

"Whatever the case, Dutch had a point when he said they don't have anything on her. She hasn't got a bounty or any real crime to her name. They really are just using her to bring you in, Arthur. I don't think they're gonna hurt her or punish her," Sadie called, and I tried my hardest to believe her.

We approached Brandywine Drop, dashed across the water and slowed before we reached the camp. We each dismounted and grabbed our weapons, on high alert in case more men had been sent. When we arrived the fire was dwindling, just faintly glowing embers. Everything else was untouched; the tent was still there, the five bodies still remained, cold and bloody. Her sketchbook still laid open on the ground; I picked it up, carefully closing it and sliding it into my satchel next to my own journal while the others looked around.

"Which way did you ride in?" Charles asked, inspecting something on the ground by lantern light. I approached him.

"I came in the same way as we did, left that way too," I told him, squinting at the ground in the poor light.

"I think there's some tracks here. Looks like a couple of horses," he told me.

"That'll probably be them, then, come on. It's the best we got," I said, waving my hand to Sadie and John. We all walked back and mounted up again, though Charles stayed on foot. Taima followed the group as we slowly made our way away from camp, heading West, parallel to the train tracks.

"I don't think it leads to the main path," Charles said, pointing to the trail that ran some distance away from the railway, "looks like it's following the line," he looked back down at the tracks.

"Walking along the train tracks? Where're they heading?" John queried roughly.

"Wherever it is, they weren't in a hurry. These tracks don't look like they were galloping. Maybe they didn't have far to go," Charles wondered.

"Maybe they wanted to be easy to find," Sadie pointed out, and I glanced at her. She was right. "How many men d'you think they'll have waiting for us?"

"I don't know. They had five at our camp, they were expecting to take me from there, I reckon. There can't be that many with her if they only had five waiting for me," I guessed, and Charles made a quiet humming sound.

"Here's hoping," he said.

We were following the tracks for barely two minutes before we came upon a small shack with light glowing from between the decrepit wooden planks barely holding the thing together. Four horses stood outside, gathered like a small little herd, grazing. All of us stopped.

"That's the old trading post," Sadie said.

My heart began to race, the blood flow making my side ache and throb, dampening my shirt more. I pressed my hand against it firmly and clamped my lips together, releasing a shaky breath from my nose. I tried to pull myself together, reminding myself that I'd had far worse.

"I bet they're keeping her there," I said.

"Looks like it's where the tracks lead. Not too many men," Charles mused and John let out a sharp exhale of a laugh.

"Ain't too smart, are they? They think they can take you in with just a handful of men?"

"They're expecting me to be alone. And distracted," I offered, "maybe they didn't think it'd require that many. So they put, what– ten men on the job?"

"Ten against one. That should've been enough," Charles snorted. "So how're we doing this?

With my eyes on the trading post, my ears strained to make out any sound. I could just hear distant voices, but by the tone they appeared to be all male.

"Alright, there's one way in, but plenty of windows and holes in the walls," I began as the others looked to me for guidance, "I suggest that I go in first, unarmed, and see what kinda situation they have her in. We don't wanna go in all guns blazing in case they– I don't know," I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on any possibilities.

"Okay, and the rest of us?" Sadie nodded.

"If you surround the building, take cover by whatever openings into the building you can, then you can cover me if anything happens. I do plan on shooting every last one of 'em, but only if I know she's safe," I explained, and each of them nodded. "I'll… I'll try to get her out of there somehow. Only start shooting once she's out of the way."

"And if you can't manage to get her out of there?" John asked. I looked at him, blinking.

"Then you better aim real damn carefully, Marston," I deadpanned.

There was a beat of silence.

"Alright, are we ready?" Charles breathed. Each of us nodded.

"Ready," I said.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur morgan x female reader #atink #rdr2 fanfic #reader insert

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withlovekth · 5 years ago

Text

Darkroom (Part Six)

Part One / Two / Three / Four / Five

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: artist! taehyung, best friend! jimin, college au, fluff, smut, angst Contains: swearing, suicide mention Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Okay, honestly this was supposed to be a stand alone one shot that I wrote three years after I had stopped writing Darkroom but my housemate inspired me to rewrite it to fit because she didn’t want me to abandon it, so here we are.

You couldn’t help but constantly come back to a city that reminded you of him, all because of a conversation you had years ago in his nearly empty room. Given opportunities, a steady job, free housing— Who would pass up a chance like that? You thought, maybe, he would.

Is that what you’re still up to these days?

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets. A stream of air visibly left your lips as you aimlessly walked by random store fronts. Your reflection reminded you of a time where you stupidly started smoking because you hoped it’d help you stop thinking about him. But thinking about him also made you stop smoking. Maybe he would have told you to quit anyway.

Was that the kind of person you were? It’s getting harder to remember.

Every time you’re here, you’d make an excuse to explore as if you haven’t seen all the touristy spots the first time around. A part of you hoped you’d run into him, but the thought of your paths crossing filled you up with anxiety. You’d fantasize what you’d say to him. If, that is, you’d say anything at all. Most of the time all the daydreaming would leave you a complete mess, whether it was a bubbling one or a sobbing one, it was still a mess. But that was nothing new.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket. You braced yourself for another round of freezing your fingers off as you raised the device to your ear.

“Y/N, where are you?” Your best friend’s voice brought a part of you back into reality. “You were supposed to be here like ten minutes ago.”

“Jimin,” your voice trailed off. You tried to process where you were. “I’m... Lost?” That was your quickest answer.

“What do you mean you’re lost?” There was a hint of panic in his voice. “Geez, I need to stop letting you take public transit by yourself—”

“Sorry, sorry.” You cut him off. If he knew you still felt this way, he wouldn’t let you go around searching for trouble all by yourself. “I see the glass and garden museum—”

“Oh! Okay, go inside and wait in the gift shop. I bet you forgot your gloves today too.”

“... You’re not wrong.” He knew you too well. He always has.

He let out a slight chuckle. “I’ll be there soon.” He hung up.

You found refuge in the shop, weaving between customers and body heat. This city was so, so cold, and yet it never got cold enough to snow, just rain.

You stopped in front of a wall of postcards, thinking about all the times you’ve wanted to send one to him. You never knew his new address, so why did you have a stack of unset mail tucked away in a drawer back home? His name written all of them. Signed: With love.

The postcard’s design was a picture of one of the glass sculptures that hung from a window paneled ceiling. The mixture of orange and yellow glass popped out among the night sky in the background. You wanted to write to him then and there, asking for his opinions, if he’d like to see it with you one day. You knew he’d like it, or at least you hope he’d like it.

You reached for it, with your now warm hands and the goal of buying it to just hide it with the rest of the unsent letters. You instantly retracted your hand the moment it brushed against another’s.

“Sorry,” your voices came out in unison.

“No, I’m—” Your throat closed up for a second as your eyes met.

“Y/N?” His voice echoed in your ears. That voice that you thought you had forgotten, but remembered as if it were yesterday. The voice you remembered saying its goodbyes and you not realizing that was meant to be forever. “It’s been forever.” He smiled softly. “How have you been?”

“It’s been forever,” you repeated after him.

Forever. It wasn’t your choice to never see him again. It was his choice to never see you again. A choice that kept you up all night wondering if it was something you did or said for it to turn out this way. A choice that’d hit you out of nowhere with a whirlwind of emotions as you tried to enjoy an outing with your friends or while you were in the middle of a test you didn’t study for. And you thought it’d be this way. Forever. But forever decided it lasted long enough. And now forever was over. Now a new set of emotions overcome you. A confusing mixture of upset and gladness and maybe relief. You hoped the relief would last forever.

Somehow you managed to say, “I’m fine. Great, actually.” You swallowed. You felt the corners of your mouth twitching from how hard you’re actually smiling. And you wondered what this response was, but at the same time it was almost expected. You wanted to be upset, angry. And yet you’re here, smiling like an idiot, as if he didn’t move and disappear without a word for years. “How are you, Taehyung?”

Saying his name to his face felt so unreal. But this was really happening. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, your face getting hotter by the second, sweat building up under your clothes.

“I’m good. Life’s been treating me well.”

“That’s good.”

You felt his eyes on you, watching, analyzing. Does he know? Can he tell that you’re about to lose whatever is left of your sanity at any moment? It’s hard to tell what he was thinking. Was it always that way?

“Have you been inside the museum yet? It looks even better in real life.” He looked back up at the postcard. You could tell he was trying to make small talk. “So, who were you going to send this to?”

You. But of course you couldn’t tell him that.

“This is kind of… Embarrassing…” Your voice trailed off before you got the chance to spill your guts.

“Oh— You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.” He looked at the ground, smiling slightly to himself. “I guess this is kind of embarrassing too. I was actually going to get it for myself. I just collect them. I’m not sure when that started. And I don’t really have much of a reason to. I guess I just think they look cool.” He grabbed one off the wall.

Without thinking you took it from his hand. “I’ll buy it for you,” you blurted out.

“No, no, it’s okay!” He tried to take it, but you hid it behind your back.

“I insist.”

He towered over you, his face inching closer to yours as he attempted to reach around for the postcard. “Y/N,” he grinned. “It’s fine.”

You found yourself stuck, unable to look away from his face. Remembering the cute little mole under his eye, then the tip of his nose, and the one under his lips.

A child running by bumped into you and you fell forward. It wasn’t romantic like in those romcoms, you head-butted his lip and he retracted backwards, covering his mouth.

Your eyes widened. “Taehyung I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. It was an accident,” he checked his fingers for blood. “I’m okay! I’m okay.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Okay now I definitely have to buy this for you, hold on.” You made a dash for the counter a couple steps away, nearly clipping another small child as they chased after the one who probably bumped you. You can hear Taehyung laugh as he trailed behind you.

You quickly made the transaction and handed over the card to him. “Here. I’m sorry, again.”

“What? You’re not going to write something for me?” He playful tilted his head.

You mumbled under your breath, “You’re killing me, Kim Taehyung.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing— Here, just— Ah. Did you want me to? I don’t have a pen…”

He held onto the postcard without taking it. “How about you think of something to write and then give it to me by the end of the day.” He nudged the card towards your body. “We’ll find you a pen later.”

“We? Later?” You didn’t want to look stupid in front of him, but you couldn’t help it. You quickly clenched your jaw after you realized you were staring at him with your mouth open.

“Yeah, later. Unless you have something else to do today?”

“Oh fuck, Ji—”

“Taehyung, who’s your friend?” An unknown woman walked up next to him, locking her arms around his. She glared at you so hard you could have sworn lasers would start shooting out of her eyes. She was beautiful. Of course she would be, it’s Taehyung.

He looked at you, but it felt more like he was looking past, maybe even through you. “She’s an old friend.”

You let out an awkward, almost forced laugh. “Yeah. An old friend. Right.” Right. That was all. Maybe a little more. Or could have been more. There was definitely more. But to him maybe you really were just a friend. Just a photo in an album at the bottom of an old moving box.

“Okay, well, we should be going now.” She began to drag him out.

You just watched him walk away. At least this time you already expected him to walk out of your life. It’s fine. This is fine. It’ll be fine.

He glanced back at you and stopped in his tracks. He gently detached himself from her and walked back over to you. He looked like he was trying hard to find something to say. Looking around as if the words would appear out of the air. He locked eyes with you once again, biting his lip. He really was thinking, but all he could come up with was a hushed, “Run.”

He had a wild look in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and bolted out of the museum, passing the girl he was with earlier. All you could make out was a string of some unkind names as the two of you darted out of earshot. He laughed the whole time. You ran for God knows how long before collapsing on a park bench. The cold air burned with each deep inhale. It hurt, but all you could do was smile.

As you tried to catch your breath you had to ask, “Who was that?”

“Just some girl I’ve been seeing. We met a few weeks ago at a coworker’s party.”

You’ve become more aware of how long you’ve been holding hands and you finally let go.

“It’s not serious though.”

You shove your hands back into your pockets, sitting up straight. “Why did you just ditch her? You’re on a date, right?”

He shrugged. “I’m not that into her. Besides, you’re way more interesting to hang out with.”

“How do you know that? It’s been three years.” You lowered your head to cover your face behind your hair. Your eyes stung, but now was not the time to be crying.

He hummed. “For starters, you nearly split my lip open, insisted on buying me a random postcard, and didn’t stop me from running away from her.”

You didn’t want to cave in so easily, but he knew how to make you smile. You can claim you hate it, but you secretly loved it. The part you hated the most was that he knew you loved it too. He still knew you so well.

“Y/N!” A voice called out from the distance.

You turned your head to the sound. “Jimin!” You shot up out of your seat. “Oh God, I forgot about him,” you mumbled under your breath.

He lightly jogged over. “Why did I just know it was you running out of the museum. I knew I should have just made you stay over at my place while you’re in town. What the hell were you doing? I told you to wait there and—” He finally looked over your shoulder. He grabbed you so fast you didn’t have time to react, shoving you behind him so that he kept you away from Taehyung. “What did you do to her?” His voice came out low.

“Nice to see you too, Jimin.” Taehyung got up with his hands outstretched for a hug.

Jimin stepped back, losing his balance for a moment as he stepped on your foot. “Ah— Sorry.”

“Jimin.” You gently put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile. But was this really fine?

He sighed, loosening up. He cleared his throat. “Good to see you too, Taehyung.” He opted for a handshake instead. “Anyway, Y/N and I have somewhere to be. So if you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving.”

You grabbed your best friend’s wrist before he got the chance to walk away. “Wait.”

“What?”

You didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to cherish your time with Taehyung. Even if it was only for a second longer. You didn’t want him to disappear, although it was probably inevitable.

“Hey, I don’t mean to intrude. Sorry.” Taehyung apologized with a tone that was enough to nearly shatter your heart. “I’ll let you be on your way.”

“No. Wait. Please.” You raised your voice as you whipped yourself around to face him. Your head began to spin, your breathing was shallow. You weren’t ready to let him go. It’s too soon.

Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go.

“Please don’t go.” You covered your mouth so quickly you practically slapped yourself.

“Y/N,” Jimin whispered, holding on to your shoulder as if it was like he was trying to stop you from shaking.

You held your breath, waiting, wondering what Taehyung will or won’t do.

Taehyung reached for your hands, uncovering them from your mouth. The look on his face. What was that look? You couldn’t understand how an expression could suddenly make you feel so full of love.

“I won’t. I’m here.”

“For how long?” You studied his face, searching for any indication he was lying while at the same time, trying to remember every part of it— the mole placements, the curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes moved as he blinked. Everything. Because you wanted to be ready for when the time comes he’ll leave you once again.

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“How long?” You repeated yourself. “How long will this last before you leave me again?” You stepped back, releasing yourself from his hold. “Are you just going to disappear again? Are you just going to leave me alone because I mean nothing more to you than just a friend? Well, friends don’t just up and disappear like that. Without a word. What kind of friend does that? I thought, maybe, I wasn’t just a friend to you. I thought I meant more to you. Like you do for me.”

You began to laugh in the middle of the silence. “Oh, God. I just sound so stupid and pathetic, don’t I?” Your lips quivered as you failed to attempt to keep your tears in. “That was so, so stupid—”

“Jimin,” Taehyung's voice sounded a bit annoyed. “You didn’t tell her?”

“I never got the chance to,” Jimin was frantic. “Now is not the time.”

“What were you going to tell me?” You rubbed your eyes, trying to see Jimin past the blurriness.

“Are you serious? You didn’t fucking tell her?” Taehyung bit his lower lip, trying to keep his cool, but it was obvious he was fuming.

“Tell me fucking what?”

“He told me to leave you alone—”

“Taehyung, shut up.”

“No! No! She needs to know.”

You grabbed Jimin by his coat, shaking him. “Why did you tell him to leave me alone?”

His face looked pale. “Y/N,” he sighed, brushing the little hairs away from your face.

You stiffened up.

“I couldn’t stand to see him with you,” he whispered, almost sounding ashamed.

“Why?” You couldn’t bear the silence, but you already have realized why.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He caressed your tear stained cheek.

You stepped away from him in disbelief. “This isn’t really happening, is it? Jimin, I… I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“Tell me anything.” He accepted his fate.

You glanced at Taehyung. He pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow, his way to encourage you.

“I…” Your eyes settle back on Jimin. Somehow he looked so small, like he wanted to disappear. “I want to be angry with you. I guess I am angry with you. Could you not see how much I was hurting?”

“I did.”

“And you let me fucking feel this way for years?”

“I thought I could win you over. But when weeks turned into months then into a year, and then two, and three... I realized I wouldn’t ever win. It would always be Taehyung. It was too late for me.”

“And you?” You asked Taehyung.

“Jimin was my best friend too. And I didn’t want to get in his way.”

You laughed harder. You couldn’t believe this is where your life has led up to. For the longest time you thought you had done something wrong. That you were the selfish one. Selfish to think you could have someone like Taehyung.

You thought it was karma. You were the bad person. You made yourself out to always be the bad person and you couldn’t even remember what you did, but all you knew is that you deserved it. All those endless nights drinking your sorrows to failed suicide attempts. It was karma for mistreating yourself for all those years, even before Taehyung came into your life. Jimin finding you in the second year of high school, out cold with a bottle of sleeping pills in your hand, waking up to getting your stomach pumped. You did this to yourself because you believed everyone would be better off without you. God was punishing you, but at that point, you had forgotten over what, and it’s laughable.

But maybe you weren’t being selfish. What was wrong about feeling the way you felt? Liking someone? Loving someone? It was okay to love who you loved. You don’t need to be sorry about that. There’s nothing to be sorry about.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You said you weren’t going to be sorry, but you couldn’t help but think about all the times Jimin was there for you. This was your karma for everything you put him though, and you accepted his envy, his selfishness.

“You don’t have to be. I should be sorry. I just couldn’t make you happy.”

“Jimin—”

A sudden clash of thunder interrupted you, followed by heavy rain. There hadn’t been any signs it would rain, let alone a thunderstorm. But that was just expected of this city, unpredictable, just like everything else in your life.

Jimin took a step back, this interruption was just what he needed. “I’ll talk to you later. I promise.” He ran off into the direction he came from, disappearing behind the endless rain drops.

You looked up into the sky, feeling the water soak your hair. You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale. You wanted to scream. Then you couldn’t feel the rain on your face. You opened your eyes to find Taehyung shielding the both of you with his coat. He gave you a half smile.

“Let’s get you out of this rain?”

“Can I stay with you? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course.”

#bangtanwriters-net #pocarmysunited #bangtanbuds #boy group writers net #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #bts scenarios

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spotlessvast · 4 years ago

Text

jetsam and flowers

the boundary between winter and summer is ever so thin on a march day, but time moves like molasses on naked trees in lukewarm air. april teases you with hope and snatches it with rain of its final day, instead of giving rain to steptember to quench the dry grass previously scorched by flames. november and december feels more wintery than the real middle of winter, but it only ever snows in february anymore. life is delayed, and holiday shopping is no exception. i'm a stranger among sisters, and i haven't told them what i want yet. an adult among children, a child among adults. out of place everywhere i go.

frigid december air eats at my already dry face and the only moisture left is the mist underneath my eyelashes. i pull my turtleneck over my nose and hesitate behind them. brick wall buildings are intimidating if they're just the right shade of red, with only steel and no wood. the bricks are a staple rather than an accent, and they clash with the cobalt all too well. inside the store is much warmer, and a little crowded. everyone runs off in different directions, but i stay in place while the whole store morphs around me.

i don't want to be here, i thought. i don't like being here. i don't belong here. i already made a mistake showing myself to these girls and offering even the slightest of my obligations; now i can't escape. with eyes of an artist i observe every small detail in the faceless mannequins and faceless advertisements. consumerism is a soul-sucking disease. apparently, the younger you're exposed to it, the more it affects you.

holiday shopping season is when i miss the summer the most. after the new year, all i see in front of me are days of pre-summer. i wait, and i watch, and i wait again. hoping that this next spring, this next summer, will happen the same with the same old people, except nothing bad happens this time. it's almost pathetic, but there's nothing else to do except wander and wait. summer comes around, and i'll end up hating the heat. it gets hotter and hotter each year, colder and colder each year, and earth's denizens continue to worry themselves. why is consumerism the only medicine they can find? don't they know it's temporary? don't they know it's—

"excuse me sir, no loitering in the entrance."

right, i'm still by the entrance.

i'm outta this joint.

hey, i don't like automatic spinning doors! i don't like self-playing pianos either! automatic spinning doors are less scary than self-playing pianos, but i see more automatic spinning doors in my life. and this store inside the mall had one. it must have been a really fancy one before undergoing renovation, because why else would it have an automatic spinning door? sidestep to the sway of glass walls, don't get crushed by bricks. avoid the consumerist death trap. i'm rewarded with warm april air and a pencil sunset.

unconventionally. sunsets don't usually happen at this time of day during this time of year. it got dark before we even got to the store. however, this was unmistakably the same air as late april despite it being december when we walked in. i exhaust myself trying to figure out what the hell just happened, when i'm snapped back to the present by short haired guy bumping into my shoulder pretty damn hard. and first of all, ow. second of all, upon closer look it appears that i know this guy.

he gathered himself and spoke; "long time no see."

"haha, yeah."

he didn't bump into me, he was knocked flying in my direction, and i realize that now upon hearing a voice as equally enraged as it was collected.

the fancy-looking guy connected to the voice sighed, put his hands in his pockets, and sighed as a trail of smoke followed his footsteps. "well, this isn't the best place to continue a fight. we should move elsewhere." he paused, then made eye contact with me. "oh, hello there."

i stare for a few seconds and then wave. "what the fuck are you two doing here?" i turn my head back to the entrance. it's no longer a mall, but a warehouse. who knows what could be inside it. either way, it does look like a good place to continue a fight, so why would he give it up now...?

"what does it look like?" the short-haired guy said.

"fighting."

"precisely. also, he started it." the fancy-looking guy pointed at the short-haired guy.

"haha, man. you must've done a number on him to get him all the way out here." i gave the short-haired guy a nudge to the side.

"we have unfinished business," he said, matter-of-factly.

i let them bicker it out for another two minutes while i shove my face against the window to the warehouse. it doesn't look like anyone's inside, but there's some lights on the ceiling and a bunch of junk scattered around. i go inside anyway, just to see if it'll take me back to the mall.

it doesn't.

funky.

�� maybe i forgot the twists i went through on my way out. it'd make sense, though. i ended up in a different parking lot than i started in. malls are fucking huge. sometimes they have storage warehouses, but usually they're not so out in the open like that.

what's weirder than the situation of my current whereabouts is the fact that i know these guys, but never learned their names. oh well, it's fair that they never learned mine, either. i just know them as "this guy" and "that guy," and they probably know me as "that motherfucker."

"hey, so," i start. i wait for a response, but there is none. "y-"

and then there's the response from the fancy-looking guy. "hm?"

i pause. "a mall warehouse is a pretty damn good place for a fight, though."

"but you shouldn't be in the middle of this fight," says the short-haired guy, slugging behind me.

"so what? if one of you gets knocked into me, i could probably take it."

there was silence.

"if i may ask, what brings you here in the first place?" asks the short-haired guy.

i shrug. "dunno." and i was telling the truth. i would've told him about holiday shopping, my family, but with every step i take i feel myself growing more and more distant from that. i never really liked spending winter with them, anyway. a liar among sisters. and it's not december anymore, anyway.

a soft april breeze courses through the vast emptiness of the storage warehouse. that's how i can tell the most.

time passes.

time always passes.

time passes, and we end up talking about things i don't care for talking about any longer. my throat is stuffed by ghosts of the past and wrung out with the presence of more friends who tagged along. i was told of a secret hiding spot near the outskirts of the city. an abandoned spot reincarnated to an underground mall with super fucking good pizza. or at least, that's what the guy with the fur collar said.

he stumbled onto the conversation between myself and the short-haired guy and the fancy-looking guy and immediately caught them silent. he always dominated conversations, but had a knack for keeping the listener interested in what he had to say. or maybe i'm the only listener who cares, and i'm an exception who's easily entertained. either way, it's easy to get lost in his stories. i want that pizza.

i tell him i wanna go there, and he leads me out of the warehouse. for a moment, we're the only two people in the world. in the next moment, we're surrounded by hurried shoppers exiting the store i walked into first. and i hate the atmosphere here, but he makes it bearable.

...but where did the others run off to?

probably to finish their fight, or be petty.

"where...are we?" asks the guy with the fur collar.

"i dunno," i say, and i'm telling the truth. i don't remember the name of this place, or how i got here, i just know that i was here to pick up some things for some people that i don't give a shit about.

i try to say more, but my breath runs out before my sentences can end. it's horrible. and suddenly, i'm alone again in a crowd of faceless consumerists running in and out. they get too close, and they'll infect me with their consumerist germs. i put my hands over my face to protect myself, but my hands are bare too. i cover my face like i'm about to cough into my arm, and run.

i trip over a speed bump and land face first into a junk pile outside the ruins of a five-story parking lot.

somehow, every scratch and bruise on my face, arms, and legs were more bearable than going home that night. am i even going home? home is a snare trap on my spinal cord.

the fancy-looking guy grabs me by the shirt collar and pulls me up to eye contact. he narrows his gaze and stares needles through me. "you look like hell. what happened to you?"

"a lot." i can speak now, but i'll have to limit my words. can't waste my breath. "friend's gone."

he just sighs. "shouldn't you go home?"

i flinch. i don't want to go home, so i shake my head side to side.

his grip softens with his gaze, and i fall softly to the ground. my wounds hurt, though i can still walk. it's not like i'm going limp anytime soon, it's just a bit of blood. my top lip tastes like iron...

following my instincts, i walk slow behind him. thinking about it now, he wanted to get away from me or just be left alone in general. those who want to go somewhere always look for directions, and i'll ask him for directions. i dunno what it is about him, but i can't leave him alone.

beneath every step i take, the ground changes shape. what was once a tar road became a narrow dirt path with flowers tangling down and mossy rocks peeking out. the dirt turns into mud, and suddenly i'm walking through a lake while seasonless night sky reflects on the water's surface. i'm watching his footsteps. his shoes are getting wet, his socks are getting wet, and they look expensive. i feel sorry for him, almost.

oh well, he could afford new socks and shoes. wouldn't even have to go through all the trouble of washing them.

a wood fence turns into a brick wall and we walk out of the alleyway. no longer choked up, i try to speak again. i breathe in, and before i can say anything, he turns his head to face me and says; "what?"

we sit down on the curb outside the mall.

"did your parents hate you, too." a ghost spoke through my mouth.

crestfallen, he said nothing. i caught a glimpse of a cut on his neck, just the size of a fingernail.

who am i trying to escape? where am i trying to escape to? i don't need words from you. he's not saying anything. i want to go home to my friends. this world isn't real, and this unreal world is happening in all the right places at all the wrong times. april is the real beginning of the year, and september is the real end. everything in between is suspension between beginnings and ends, and i'm unsure what to do. did my parents hate me? did your parents hate you, too? are they even mine? i am a chameleon among the norm, and my faces aren't dictated by my own will.

are you a social chameleon too? is it my choice to pile on images to fit a role?

"we don't have parents."

a pair of empty hands carry murky pond water in their palms as they ache to be touched by something real. who those hands belong to, is unknown.

and somehow, i know.

i don't have to go back inside to buy flowers.

why couldn't it have been you, instead?

and if i may see you once more in the past can i say "if you are to die soon or quickly can you die pretty" like a famous movie so i can rest against your shoulders, guiltless, and spill all my bottled up muddy secrets.

the guy with the fur collar catches up to me with the rest of his ensemble. it's about time to go home. out of the corner of my eye i see three strangers pushing a full shopping cart.

#spilled ink #short stories #writers on tumblr #surrealism

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spidercakes · 5 years ago

Text

Non-powered starker AU featuring a bit of an exhibitionist kink on Peter’s end and some smut.

Peter looks rumpled with his button down askew and his hair all over the place and his cheeks are still a little pink but he looks satiated and Tony has to admit he’s a little less stressed. Peter’s always been good at calming him down and getting rid of his nervous energy. He leans into Tony, pants still undone and Tony wraps his arms around him, one hand settling on his hip and the other on his ass. “I can’t believe we didn’t get busted that time,” he says, sparing a glance over his shoulder and shit, Tony’s surprised too. Its not like this is a club bathroom, or some random ally that Peter has dragged Tony into, it’s a gala and all that’s playing is classical music from the live band and the chatter of voices. Peter isn’t exactly quiet either so they mostly got lucky.

He grins, dragging Peter into a kiss. “Good luck,” he murmurs as Peter melts into him.

“Guess so. Feel better, baby?” he asks and Tony shrugs.

“Some, sure. Helps that you’ll be there,” Tony murmurs. At first he thought he was going to have to deal with his asshole father and his fucking brother alone but Peter had offered to come and he’s close with his mom. He talked her into letting him bring Peter to the cabin on account of they’ve never met before and wouldn’t it be nice to invite him to family bonding? Never mind that they don’t ever really bondso much as scream at each other and then avoid each other for the next three days before leaving and not talking to each other for another six months only to do it all over again.

Still, Tony feels better with Peter coming along even if he’s still stressed about it. Peter pouts at him and Tony kind of wants to kiss it away but Peter speaks before he can. “What, need me to drag you off to some other dark corner to test our luck?” he asks, eyes wide like he’s innocent and he’s so not.

“Mm as much as I would love that I have to speak so I’ll have to take a rain check,” he says, giving Peter’s ass a squeeze.

Peter lets out a soft ‘hmph’ before he grins, leaning back into Tony. “Well, if it makes you feel better we can always up the stakes of our little game, hmm? I’m sure the family cabin has a few fun hidey holes,” he says and Jesus Tony has no idea where Peter pulls this shit from.

“Really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow because he has no idea how to feel about this suggestion. On one hand, sex with Peter is always great. On the other hand he’s not looking to get busted fucking Peter by a family member. Even if he hates two thirds of the people that are invited.

Peter shrugs, “you’re somehow already the family disappointment despite being like, a billion times more successful than your brother. Its not like this would land you loweron the totem pole,” Peter points out.

Yeah, he’s not wrong there. “You know what, we’ll see how stressed I get. Now come on baby, get yourself together. I have a speech to make.”

Peter pretends to be affronted but he’s not, Tony knows. God, he’s so lucky to have him. “Have you ever thought of pointing out that Rhodey is more successful than Steve in the military and younger too?” Peter asks, threading his fingers through his and pulling Tony back towards the gathering of people.

He lets out a sharp laugh, “oh, every time I see him,” he says. And unlike Steve Rhodey didn’t need daddy’s connections to get him there because Rhodey’s a badass.

“Maybe you should say something,” Peter says. He gives Tony another one of those innocent looks and Tony really doesn’t know how he does it, looking so sweet like he isn’t constantly dragging Tony into some barely secluded dark corner of some public space to fuck him silly. He would have thought he’d be the frisky adventurous one but he’s got nothing on Peter.

Honestly, Peter kind of thought Tony was exaggerating about his family. He’s got a flair for the dramatic so he thinks he can be forgiven for that but within the first five seconds of knowing Howard he insults Tony, insults what he’s done with the company despite it being more profitable now than it ever was under Howard. He then goes on to imply Peter is twelve and if thatdoesn’t leave him seething with rage. So he looks young, he knowshe does and he knowshe’s significantly younger than Tony but he’s twenty fucking five.

“Baby,” Tony murmurs in his ear, “don’t listen to him. He’s a fuckass anyway.” Tony isn’t exactly wrong but still. “Get us a drink?” he adds, kissing his cheek. Peter sighs and nods, making an effort to walk back to the cabin rather than stomp. He sees no reason to encourage the line of thinking that leaves him a fucking forever child.

He’s digging around in the fridge when he hears someone walk up behind him. “You must be Peter, then,” the person says and he turns to find a tall blonde there. He reminds Peter of that Ken doll he and MJ set on fire as kids to amuse themselves and he knows Tony was nervous about him meeting Steve because he feels inferior but Peter has no clue why. Sure, he’s good looking but he’s not Peter’s type whatsoever. Reminds him of a blonde version of his ex, except Quentin had more striking features while Steve looks… manufactured.

“Yeah. I assume you’re Steve,” he says, a little standoffish. Tony wasn’t exaggerating about Howard so he doubts he’s exaggerating about Steve now. He feels bad for doubting Tony to begin with.

“So Tony did mention me,” he says and takes a small step back, looking out the glass doors of the cabin before turning back. “He’s treating you alright, right?” he asks and Peter prickles fast.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snaps. He knowshe’s overreacting, still a little pissed off about the whole Howard thing but he doesn’t much care for the implications of Steve’s words either.

Steve shakes his head, “nothing really, its just that he’s a little too much like dad and-”

“Tony isn’t anything like Howard and he treats me fucking fantastic so lets get that straight,” Peter snaps and this time he does stomp off, back out to Tony.

He looks a little confused when Peter comes back empty handed but notices Steve trailing behind him fast. “You must have just got here so what the hell did you do to my baby to piss him off so much?” Tony asks, circling an arm around his waist.

“Outright compared you to your father,” Peter mumbles darkly but its nothing compared to the look on Tony’s face and Peter is pretty sure there’s some kind of history there.

“Fuck you,” Tony snaps, pulling Peter away while Maria, who seems to be the only half way decent member of this family, looks on in something akin to horror.

They remain curled up next to each other while Tony runs his fingers up and down Peter’s bare back. “Sorry about dragging you into this, baby,” he murmurs, kissing Peter softly.

He shrugs because he volunteered for this. “Its okay. S’not like you can help that your family sucks, and in Steve’s slight defense he was trying to not suck even if he totally does.” Failed miserably at it given his apparently quite low opinion of his brother and Peter is sure that’s unfounded. Or if its not it hasn’t been true in some time.

Tony sighs, “yeah, in his defense I amtoo much like Howard,” he murmurs and Peter perks up, giving him the side eye because he might not know Tony’s father well but he knows that he and Howard are nothing alike. Aside from looks, they dohave a lot in common there.

“No you aren’t,” Peter says confidently.

“You didn’t know me when I was young,” Tony murmurs like that matters.

“Don’t need to. If you were like Howard you wouldn’t be the way you are now, would you? Whatever you did when you were young doesn’t really matter if you don’t do those things now,” he points out.

Tony smiles a little, arm tightening around him. “How come you’re the wise one?” he murmurs.

“Probably that time my parents both died and also my uncle Ben,” Peter says in too chipper a tone, laughing when Tony almost chokes.

“Baby!” he says, trying his best not to laugh not that he’s doing a good job.

“What? Its true. You want a mature young person traumatize them a bunch. Worked pretty well on me.” Tony shakes his head and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs and Peter smiles.

“Love you too,” he says back, snuggling in closer to Tony.

If Peter has to sit and listen to Howard’s yammering for another god damn minute he might throw the man off the dock that his damn yacht is attached to. “I swear to god if he keeps talking,” Peter mumbles to Tony, who laughs a little behind his hand.

“Hope you got him to sign a prenup,” Howard says despite the fact that Peter isn’t wearing a ring.

Peter makes an irritated noise. “Oh please old man, if I wanted his money I would have chosen someone who has one foot on the banana peel and the other in the grave so all I had to do was give him a gentle nudge before I was set for life but unfortunately Maria bit the bullet and already married your ancient ass,” he snaps. “So I figured the younger, hotter, more successful model with an actual personality would suffice.”

Howard somehow manages to look at him like he’s a bug to be smushed instead of taking offense. “I can see why you like him. He’s got a smart mouth despite it being better off shut.”

Tony gives him an absolutely poisonous look, “oh shut up, Howard. You haven’t had anything useful to offer since the seventies,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“And lets be real, the biggest contribution you’ve made to the world was Tony,” Peter says, earning a sharp snort out of Tony.

Howard rolls his eyes, “oh what would you know, have you even left high school?” he asks and Peter grits his teeth.

“The PhD program I recently finished gives a good indication that I know what the fuck I’m talking about. I’d offer you my I.D to prove my age but I’m pretty sure you lost your bifocals in the Great Depression.” Tony lets out another snort and even Steve cracks a smile at that one. Maria just looks stressed and Peter supposed he might too, if he assumed anyone here would get along for more than five seconds.

“Okay, I’m going to go for a walk with Peter,” Tony says, pulling Peter from his seat. “And then we’re going to bed. Very tired,” he lies as he drags them both out of there.

“No wonder you hate your father,” Peter says, curling an arm around Tony’s waist.

“Oh he was on his best behavior tonight so you can imagine what he’s like normally,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “You dropped some nice lines though,” he murmurs, pulling Peter into the cabin.

Yeah, he did. Probably because he’s been spending so much time with Tony and if anything the man is good with a one liner. “Mm, well, learned from the best,” he murmurs as he draws Tony into a kiss. Tony goes, hands settling on his hips as Peter pushes him into the nearest room, shutting the door behind him before pressing Tony up against it. Tony lets out a soft moan and Peter knowshow much he likes it when he takes control. He likes to pretend like he’s a control freak but nothing gets him hotter than Peter taking over, pushing him around and telling him what to do.

Tony’s hands run down his body, pulling the shirt he has tucked into his pants out. “Baby this is Steve’s room,” he murmurs into the kiss and Peter shrugs.

“So? Get that jacket off,” he tells Tony, pushing it off his shoulders. Tony all but throws it on the ground and pulls Peter back into a kiss as he works at undoing the buttons on Tony’s shirt. Tony doesn’t bother with his buttons at all; he just pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

“You sure about this?” Tony asks as Peter grabs his hips and spins them around, directing him towards the bed.

Once Tony’s legs hit the edge of the bed he shoves him onto it, grinning when Tony bounces a little and crawling into his lap immediately. “Think the golden boy keeps condoms and lube around?” he asks, kissing Tony fiercely. Tony moans into it as Peter frantically undoes his belt, pulling it from its loops and throwing it somewhere that’s not near him.

“GodI love you,” Tony tells him, hands making their way down the back of his pants as he grabs Peter’s ass.

“You better,” Peter murmurs. “Move up while I dig around,” he tells him. Tony whines at the loss of Peter in his lap but if they’ve got luck he’ll be back in his lap soon enough. Peter crawls across the bed to the bed side table and yanks open the drawer, snickering at what he finds there. He pulls out the cuffs and dangles them where Tony can see and Tony wrinkles his nose.

“Ew, not something I ever needed to see, baby,” he says.

“What? Don’t want to borrow them for a little fun?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Tony’s nose wrinkles more, “no fucking thanks, I don’t know who those were on last and I don’t want to find out. Besides, we have nicer ones at home,” he says.

Peter’s lips quirk up, “mm, yeah we do. And they look so pretty around your wrists while I ride you,” he murmurs, leaning back over to kiss Tony. He runs his fingers along Tony’s jaw, carefully tilting his head up so he can meet Peter’s mouth better before pulling away.

“Baby,” Tony murmurs softly as Peter pulls back.

“Gimmie a minute,” he says, turning back to the drawer and rattling around in it. He tosses the cuffs aside, and a few other things that aren’t useful to him until he gets luck. “Ha! Great, because I would have been pretty pissed if I had to go hunting around,” he says, tossing the condoms and lube close to Tony before crawling back into his lap.

Tony pulls him back in immediately, kisses sloppy and passionate as he feels his way up and down Peter’s back. God, he loves Tony like this, touching him like he’s never does it before. “Clothes off,” Tony tells him and Peter snorts.

“You don’t get to give the orders around here, baby, that’s my job,” Peter tells him but he pulls the button of his pants open anyway because he damn well wants Tony yesterdayand things aren’t moving fast enough. He shimmies out of his pants and starts pulling at Tony’s, shedding them and adding them to the pile of clothing tossed about the room. “Lube,” Peter tells him, “and make this quick yeah? want to be on your cock,” he says, kissing Tony again.

Tony moans into it, groping around on the bed until he finds what he’s looking for. “Fast and dirty, hmm? That how you want it?”

“Fucking right,” Peter tells him, “make it good. S’been a shitty day and I want something good out of it.”

“Me too, baby,” Tony murmurs as he presses two fingers into his hole and they both moan. “Gunna be so good,” Tony says, “always good.”

Peter nods, pressing his ass back into Tony’s fingers. “Mm yeah. Gunna ride you hard, love the way you feel inside me,” Peter murmurs, “get the condom.”

Tony curls his fingers a bit and Peter’s back arches into him. “You looks do damn beautiful like this baby,” Tony tells him. “Love the look on your face when I make you feel good.”

He lets out a few short pants before he reaches out himself, finding the condom he threw over here himself and all but tossing it at Tony. “Make be feel better if you get this on so I can fuck you proper,” he says and Tony lets out a soft laugh.

“FuckI want you so bad,” he murmurs into Peter’s mouth, pulling the condom package open and putting it on.

Yeah, Peter too so as soon as Tony’s done with the condom he sinks himself down on Tony’s dick and they both groan. He sits like that for a moment, adjusting before Tony is pawing at his hips, urging him to move as he mouths at Peter’s neck. He curls his fingers into Tony’s hair and settles an arm around his shoulders to balance himself as he begins to move.

“God baby yeah, like that,” Tony tells him as he shifts his hips just right and Peter bites his lip and tilts his head back. Tony moans into his neck, nipping at the spots he’s sucked kisses into and Peter lets out a soft, breathy noise of pleasure.

“Oh godI love having you like this,” Peter tells him. “Love the way you feel when I ride you,” he murmurs.

One of Tony’s hands tightens on his hip while the other runs up Peter’s back and back down again, curling over his ass and squeezing it. “You’re to god damn tight, baby,” Tony moans into his ear. “Fuck me faster.”

Peter nods, shifting his position slightly and moving faster, delighting in the sharp moans Tony lets out. Peter knows he’s loud, doesn’t much care what people think of it either, but he fucking loves when Tony gets loud too. He’s always the one holding back, especially in they’re in public, and Peter likes it when he lets go and just feels it. “Like that, baby?” he asks and Tony lets out another moan into his neck.

“Oh god, ‘m close,” he tells Peter and he bites his lip at the flush of arousal that results.

“Come on, baby,” Peter murmurs to him. “Wanna hear you.”

The hand Tony has on his hip grows tighter as he shifts his hips up into Peter’s keeping with the pace Peter set. He doesn’t expect to let out a loud moan but he does, breathing picking up as Tony slams his hips up into Peter’s again. “Tony,” Peter says, grip on his hair tightening as he pulls it a little. “Do that again,” he tells him, throwing his head back when he does. “Tony!” he says, louder this time.

“Gunna cum with me?” Tony asks and Peter nods frantically.

“Yeah baby, just keep doing that oh Tony!” he yells, grip on Tony’s hair growing tighter as Tony presses his hips up into Peter’s for the last time, yelling Peter’s name as he cums too. For a moment they just sit there and pant while Peter all but melts into Tony, muscles going loose. Then Tony swears and Peter stirs, “hmm?” he asks, only half interested in the response.

“Baby, that was loud,” Tony tells him and he shrugs. Tony lets out a soft laugh, “yeah, you don’t care now but when you have to look my mother in the eye,” he murmurs, prodding Peter off his lap. He whines about it but follows Tony’s instructions while he pads over to the large window that happens to have curtains on it, not that it would have mattered if they turned the lights on. Which they hadn’t so at least Tony doesn’t need to worry about that. “Oh thank god, no one has moved. Come on, before we get busted. I don’t want to listen to Steve whine,” he says, pulling Peter off the bed despite his protests.

Tony’s more than content with Peter curled up into his side, one leg drawn up over his hip, when Steve bursts in. He jumps, annoyed but he doesn’t look as annoyed as Peter does. Steve all but throws the clothes that he and Peter must have forgot in his room into Tony’s space looking pretty pissed. Peter’s cheeks turn bright red as his eyes go wide and yeah, Tony thought so. Its one thing to have the thrill of getting caught, its another to actually get busted. Peter mumbles something Tony doesn’t catch and drags the blanket over his head as he slinks closer to Tony.

“What the fuck?” Steve snaps and Tony shrugs.

“It was the first door we ran into,” he says in their defense.

Steve makes a disgusted face, “oh that was cute when you were nineteen, its not so fucking cute now,” he says and Tony wrinkles his nose because gross, bad choice in words.

“You were the one who chose that room, I wanted it but youhad to have it enough to bitch at mom about it,” Tony says, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t expect my little brother to constantly fuck in it!” Steve snaps.

“Oh Christ, it was like three times. Get over it,” Tony mumbles.

“Three times? You stole like five of my girlfriends and slept with all of them in my room you asshole!”

Peter pokes his head out of the blanket looking amused. “You’ve done this before?” he asks, eyes bright.

“Yeah, and I’m fucking sick of it. Why the hell do you always do this?” Steve snaps.

Tony shrugs, “believe it or not this time was Peter’s idea so blame him,” he says and Peter makes a soft noise of betrayal, slinking back into his blanket hideaway and jabbing Tony in the side with a finger. He jumps, grumbling at Peter but Steve clearly doesn’t believe him anyway.

“Don’t blame this on him, like he knew that was my room! And did you two use my fucking handcuffs?” he asks.

“No, we have nicer ones at home,” he says and he laughs as Steve’s face turns more red than Peter’s had been a few minutes ago.

Steve sputters, clearly at a loss of what to say as he throws his hands up in frustration. “Oh Steve, what could Tony have possibly done to you now? He’s been in bed for over an hour,” his mom says and Tony swears to fucking god if Steve rats him out he’s calling Rhodey to get Steve’s ass canned and he knows Rhodey will do it too.

“He has fucking not! Tell him to stop fucking in my room!” Steve says, so pissed off that apparently he forgot to censor himself in front of their mother.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Tony tells him as Peter lets out a soft groan under the blanket and Tony can feel him shriveling up under there in shame.

“Well I hate you too! You can’t even manage to fuck your boyfriend in your own damn room!” Steve yells.

“Well if you’re so damn bothered by it just give the damn room that’s the first door on the way in and this wouldn’t be an issue anymore!” Tony tells him and Maria throws her hands up.

“Oh for the love of godyou two are still fighting over who got that damn room? You’re grown men, stop acting like children!” Maria tells them. “And Tony, really? You’d be pissed off if Steve did that to you,” she points out.

“He doesn’t have the balls and also myroom is across the damn cabin so it doesn’t even make sense to do that, his room is closer to all entrances and exits. Not my fault I got sequestered to the bad child corner,” he points out.

“No fucking wonder you did considering you can’t even manage to fuck in your own damn room! Now I have to wash my sheets and did you even use a condom? What the hell am I going to find in there?” Steve snaps.

“Grab a black light, it’s a Jackson Pollock painting,” Tony tells him and Peter lets out another soft groan. Poor thing, Tony almost feels bad for him but this is half his fault so he doesn’t.

Steve makes a disgusted face, recoiling. “You’re fucking disgusting!”

Tony shrugs, “quick and dirty is my style, what can I say?”

“Oh my god stop,” Peter and, of all people, Maria say in sync though in vastly different tones.

“Steve, go to your room. Tony… go clean Steve’s room,” she says. Tony goes to open his mouth to protest but he gets fixed with a nasty glare. “I have found out waymore about you than I ever wanted to know tonight. Go. Clean. Steve’s. Room,” she tells him, walking off with that.

He turns to look at Steve. “I’m not cleaning your room. I don’t even know how to do laundry so I’d be useless anyway. Good luck,” he says, slipping out of bed and shutting the door in Steve’s face.

Peter sticks his head out of the blanket. “Please tell me we can leave as soon as everyone is asleep oh my god,” he says, looking horrified.

Tony walks back over and crawls over Peter’s body, crowding him into the mattress. “Aw, only an exhibitionist when you don’t get caught?” he asks, leaning in and kissing him softly.

“Caught? Oh, that’s not the problem. The problem is that I probably can’t avoid not inviting your entire family to the wedding and I don’t know how to look at Steve after being busted fucking in his room,” he says. “And apparently this isn’t even the first time you’ve done that.”

He shrugs, “dad was always on about Steve this, Steve that, be more like Steve, Steve’s the son I always dreamed of and you’re a disappointment so I figured fuck it, Steve’s a low bar to hit. To be fair everyone who’s slept with us both says I’m better so guess Steve should be more like me,” he says, grinning as Peter rolls his eyes.

“Oh my god Tony. Just tell me we can leave as soon as everyone is asleep,” he says.

He laughs but nods, giving Peter’s nose a kiss. “Yeah baby, we can leave as soon as they’re asleep. And speaking of weddings,” he murmurs, pulling himself off the bed and grabbing the pants Steve so lovingly threw back into his room.

Thankfully the ring didn’t fall out of the pocket because he’d worked hard to find something Peter would like. He hands it off to him and sits, “I don’t expect you to sign a fucking prenup either, Howard can eat shit.”

Peter stares at it, stunned. “Seriously? Is this like, an actual proposal or is this just a ring?”

Tony draws him in for a kiss. “Of course it’s a proposal, you don’t not sign prenups for ‘just rings,’” he points out.

Peter squeals and throws his arms around him, “oh my god, yes!”

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #smut

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youralternantpersonality · 4 years ago

Text

Endless Love

Paul x Reader: Endless love

Part 1: Eternal Love

Part 2: Everlasting Love

Part 3: Endless Love

Part 4: Enduring Love

***

Your POV

The sun came up and it was slightly warm again. I looked around for Snout but couldn’t find him. I get up tirelessly from the ground only to see a figure of a woman in front of me. She is blurry but shaped like a shadow. She was slender and small with an authority like stance. And without a second thought, I ran.

I looked behind me and I saw her just standing there. Looking in my direction. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, wasn’t going to leave. That I was for sure aware of.

Paul’s POV

We pull up to this small cottage in the middle of nowhere (shocking!) and watched as some of the Cullen’s friends step out of the house. My inner wolf is just dying to come out at this point. The Cullen’s, I can handle, but these people…unknown leeches…that’s a different story. Carlisle does his grand gesture and greeting, and we all move inside.

“Come, young Paul, I will show you where she is at. I know the last place you want to be at is here with us.” One of the blondes said. I followed her down a long hallway into a guest bedroom. From the door, I could see her, tubes tied, and machines keeping her alive. Blondie tells me she’ll be outside if I need anything.

I just watch her from the door. Tears forming in my eyes as I watch her from across the room. I somehow find myself walking towards her, ignoring the chair next to her bed and lay down next to her. making sure I move all the tubes around so that I don’t hurt her. Her body isn’t as warm as it used to be. As if she was barely hanging on. As if she was ready to let go. As if she was showing me what she’d feel like when she’s turned. Could I be ready for that?

Your POV

It started raining not too long ago. I ran around looking for protection until I came upon a cave. I had been sitting in here for a while, watching the rainfall endlessly outside. Trying to keep warm, I curl into a ball and try to lock in warmth. Not too long afterward, a rush of heat consumes me, and I do nothing but relax into it.

Not paying attention anymore, I don’t realize that at the entryway of the cave is the woman and Snout. He barks and it echoes through the cave. I turn to look, and I see them. She points at me and Snouts comes running my way. To frightened to move, and too cold to scream, I wait for my ending. But instead, Snout comes up to me and licks my face with his tail wagging and his barking throughout the cave. It’s not until I notice the lady at the cave is now sitting in front of me.

In an instant flash, the cave brightens up and I see her face. She was beautiful. I’ve seen her somewhere, but I can’t remember where. She looks like someone I know, but I keep coming up blank. She smiles at me and starts talking.

“He was right. You are beautiful. It’s ashamed I never got to meet you.” The lady smiles. I look at her confused and respond.

“Who’s he? And what do you mean? Do I know you?” I ask, confused as can be. She shakes her head and smiles.

“No, but I know plentiful of you and have been watching you for a while now. I see you’ve taken great care of my son. I just wanted to say thank you.” She smiles. I take a good look at her. She has clear and bright honey-olive skin with beautiful brown eyes. Her long black hair extenuates the glow around her skin and her smile just brightens the room. There was a calming and motherly feel around her.

“Your son? Who’s your son?” I look at her confused. Her head falls slightly, and the corner of her lips turn downward.

“It’s okay that you don’t remember him. You will eventually. Just remember one thing,” she pauses to look at me and I nod my head.

“Promise me, you’ll at least listen to him. Allow him to speak and to forgive him. It might be hard, lord knows he gets himself into some situations with you, but all I ask is for you to give him one more chance.” She looked at me with pleading eyes. I can’t help but nod at her, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

“Another thing…you’ll be given two choices soon. Make sure you choose the right one. Your life depends on it.” she then reaches over to me and hugs me, kisses my forehead, then walks to the edge of the cave. She looks back and smiles at me before disappearing. I look down at a sleeping Snout curled up to me. I am comfortably warm and decide to join him. I curl next to him and fall asleep too.

Paul’s POV

There’s a knock at the door and I turn to see the Good Doctor Cullen. Letting me know it is time and ask me if I’m 100 percent sure of this. I nod my head and go to sit in the chair next to her and hold her hand. It is only us two, Edward and Carlisle in the room. I watch as the Good Doctor take out eight syringes’—three of them look like clear water and the other five are filled with this silver thick liquid stuff.

“What the fuck is that?” I say looking at this shit. Carlisle chuckles and explains the clear stuff is morphine and the other ones are their venom.

“I always thought you guy’s venom would be, I don’t know, green, or black, or something. Not something like a kids art project where you put a crap tone of glue and add silver glitter and paint mix to it.”

“Are you saying our venom is pretty?” One of the blondes says from behind us. I let out a growl to warn her.

“Okay, okay, I’ll back away. I’ll see you guys in a few.”

“Thank you, Kate. Garrett should be here soon.” I hear the door shut and the front door to the house open and close. Good, we’re alone.

“So how is this going to work? You’re going to put her more to sleep and then put the venom in?”

“Essentially, yes. I don’t want to overdose her, but I want to numb her as much as possible with the morphine so she doesn’t feel nearly as much as she would.” Carlisle said.

“And we also don’t want you freaking out if she starts screaming in pain.” Edward finishes.

“Wait, screaming? In pain?! I thought it would be a little pinch or something. But screaming!?” I start freaking out a little. How bad is this transformation supposed to be?

“The venom reconstructs the bones, organs, tissues, cells, all of it. The body is calcifying itself to stone, which is a painful process even if she wasn’t dying.” I look at both of them in disbelief.

“Are you sure you want to-“ I cut him off,

“Yes. Just…make her as comfortable as possible. I can’t lose her…” I said looking down at her. This may be a selfish thing to do, but its either both of us, or none on earth. Carlisle nods and grab one of the morphine needles and stick it into her IV tube. After a few minutes, her smell heightens a little. Not sure if that’s good or bad.

“The morphine is settling in her.” Edward nods towards Carlisle and grabs the other one and injects it into her IV tube. All I can do is sit there, helplessly, watching her fight. I say a silent prayer to whoever wants to listen to protect her and bring her back. I wonder when she comes back, will she hate me? Resent me? Remember me? Forgive me? Would she love me again? Will I love her?

That last thought scared me. I looked at Edward and Carlisle then think back on everything about their type that irks me and wonder, will my views change just for her or because of her? Will I feel like that to her the way I feel about leeches in general? Or will she be the only one in my heart? I ask all these unanswered questions until one comment stops me.

“Are you ready Paul?” without looking up, I nod my head and allowed the Good Doctor to inject his venom into my love’s veins. ‘Till death do us part.

Your POV

The warmth that consumed me left, but in its place came a rush of drowsiness. I was disoriented and confused. I felt like I was plastered drunk. I didn’t know what was going on, but I couldn’t get up or move without struggling. Every time I tried to move, it’d get worse and worse and I begged it to stop. I wanted, for once, to touch the rain. Maybe it would help the dizziness. But right before I could reach it, it stopped raining. It was sunny instantly and the sun was making it warmer and warmer by the second.

I wanted to stay in the cave, but it was hotter in there than it was outside. I looked around for Snout, but I couldn’t find him again. I was walking from tree to tree, holding on in this heat. I need to get out of the forest before a fire starts. I tried running, but nothing happened. I just fell and screamed against the steaming hot ground. I grabbed onto the equally hot trees and just kept moving. I prayed to whoever is listening, to get me out of this heat before I die. I try to think happy thoughts, thoughts of my friends. Yes! My friends! I remember them! My friends and Snout when he was a puppy. I remember some of my family, but not really. Then I remember someone else. I don’t know who he is, but I know him. And I feel…I feel…hurt? Anger? Happy? I was so caught up in him that I didn’t notice a tree was falling in front of me.

“Ahh!” I scream and tried my best to run, but to no avail, I can’t. I cry more as it gets hotter and hotter as I go. Wishing for it to all stop.

Narrator POV

“I heard her,” Edward said.

“What?” Paul and Carlisle looked at him. Carlisle was injecting the second syringe in when he said it.

“I heard her. This whole time, I haven’t been able to, but now…now I can. I just heard her.”

“What did you see? What is she dreaming of? Is she dreaming?” Paul asked anxiously.

“It was a small glimpse; I just saw her grabbing on a tree, and she screamed. Then her mind shut off again. Something must’ve scared her. I’m not sure what, but something caught her off guard enough to let me see her.” Edward said with slight pride.

“The venom must be working then. She still has a long way to go Paul. But if Edward can read her, that’s a lot of progress.” Carlisle goes around the bed and places a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Trust me, she will be okay, as long as Edward can read her.” He goes back to what he was doing by grabbing the third syringe and injecting it into her major artery in her inner thigh. Making sure to inject her in different areas to assure her body takes the venom.

Paul grabs Y/n hand and gently strokes in, occasionally kisses it, but bows his head on it as Carlisle finished the last one. They go to leave and plan on checking her every hour or so. Paul would never admit this out loud—and not when Edwards is in the proximity of him—but he’s grateful for them. Now, is all about playing the waiting game for the next three days.

My Love (for the series)

MasterList

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ashsilla · 5 years ago

Text

Losses (Part One)

Book: Platinum

Ship: Raleigh Carrera (M) x MC (Suiko Hono)

Rating: T

A/N: Raleigh has a reputation for a reason. Suiko has some feelings she probably shouldn’t have in a doctored relationship. When Raleigh slips up, she is left hurt and reeling — and falling into a comforting set of arms as a result. (Raleigh x MC with a healthy dose of protective older brother Avery) (Set when Raleigh and MC are still in their PR relationship)

Tag List: @lunalixo @sunnyxdazed @furiouscloddonutpeanut @lovedrakewalker

Bzzt.

Suiko snapped awake, her eyes cracking open. Her bedroom was still dark, her sheets wrapped around and around her legs, her hair stuck to her face and tangled.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

Her phone, tucked unceremoniously beneath her pillow, was buzzing like crazy. A small, sad groan escaped her mouth as she realized it must be her alarm, which meant it was morning, which meant she had to get up. Slowly, she lifted the screen, letting it flicker to light.

4:33 in the morning?

That was definitely not her alarm.

And...texts? So many texts.

She saw Fiona and Hank, Shane and Avery, and finally Raleigh. All messages from the last five minutes.

Suiko frowned and clicked open Shane’s message first.

just saw the pic suiko, i’m sorry. know it’s super early but do u want me to come over or something? let me know

What pictures? A small sense of panic began to blossom in her chest. All her half-asleep mind could imagine was an image of her, bedraggled and depressed in the banana suit, dancing on the sidewalk, all over tabloid covers. Please, God, let that not be it. She opened Hank’s message next.

Suiko, has Fiona reached you yet? If not, give me a call. Let me know if you need anything...

The panic spread. Her fingers wobbled as she moved on to Fiona’s messages.

Suiko. Call me.

Are you sleeping?

Look at this when you wake up: http://eenews/raleigh-carrera-returns-to-his-roots-despite-budding-romance-with-starlet-suiko-hono

Meet at the office at 8 AM this morning to discuss how to move forwards.

The panic had turned to full on fear. What had happened that was bad enough to warrant a meeting on “how to move forwards?” Suiko clicked on the link in the text with shaking hands.

A web page popped up — the most popular celebrity gossip site, EE! News. The headline spelled out in big, ugly letters: Raleigh Carrera Returns to His Roots Despite Budding Romance with Starlet Suiko Hono.

She was awake now. And she began to read.

Early last night, infamous R&B bad boy Raleigh Carrera was spotted at Theory Nightclub in Manhattan without Suiko Hono, girlfriend and winner of this season of ‘One in a Million,’ who just released her first album ‘Kamikaze’ last week. Insider reports say he was downing drinks — does this smell of a breakup? — and a photo snapped by a club guest shows that he was getting cozy with an unnamed girl.

Suiko’s heart throbbed in her chest. Even as her muscles seized, she kept reading.

Before he started shacking up with Hono, Carrera infamously dated models Isabella and Gianna Ladid at the same time, resulting in the sisters’ legal battle over their brand. Prior to that, he left one-hit-wonder Koko Dianni broken hearted in a famously quoted public breakup. Has Suiko Hono’s time come to be the next victim of Raleigh’s frigid heart?

Whether Carrera’s choice to get wasted last night was the result of a breakup, boredom, or a return to his old ways, we have many questions! Namely: who is the mystery girl? Where is Suiko Hono? Has the music industry’s newest couple already gone off the rails? Come back to EE! News, your source for celebrity entertainment, for more information as this story unfolds.

Suiko read the article once. Twice. Three times. Each time the words were the same, and each time they were uglier than the last.

It was like being punched in the stomach, but somehow even worse, even more intimate than that, something that wouldn’t go away on its own. Because this would quite possibly never go away.

At the bottom of the article, a picture, blurry but clear enough, was posted. Yes, that was Raleigh all right — all clean lines and dark curls and intrigue. But sitting at his side, so close she might as well be on his lap, was a girl in a green sequined dress whose blonde hair ran in curls down her back. A girl who was definitely not Suiko.

EE! News flashed as another update rolled in. More texts were coming in too, but Suiko was overwhelmed and her vision had started to blur with tears, and the room was dark and disorienting around her in the early morning’s shadows.

Rubbing the moisture from her eyes, she loaded the updated EE! article.

More pictures.

The blonde girl, hand resting on Raleigh’s chest.

Raleigh, licking salt off the edge of a glass and staring at her through his dark lashes.

The two of them locked in a kiss in what looked like the alley outside the club.

Suiko turned her phone off and collapsed back into the sheets, breathing hard. Tightness spiraled between her lungs, and she let out a wheeze.

In her mind, all she could see was Raleigh’s face — grinning down at her after making a joke, smirking when he caught her staring at him, surprisingly gentle when he thought she wasn’t watching. Raleigh, holding her hand on their dates. Raleigh, carrying her through the rain and puddles so her new shoes wouldn’t be ruined. Raleigh helping her brainstorm lyrics and celebrating her album’s release. Raleigh kissing her as if it was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he’d ever wanted.

It was the only thing she wanted, and yet, none of what she so desperately clung to in her memories had been remotely real.

So why was this feeling so real? Why did her heartbeat keep getting faster, her breaths shorter, her tears hotter?

Maybe she’d been kidding herself these past months. Maybe she’d imagined that, somehow, Raleigh had felt the same thing she had -- something new and fragile and beautiful that bloomed when they were together. Something that went deeper than the PR glances and kisses and dates.

Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt.

Someone was calling. Suiko glanced down at the phone with frightened eyes.

It was Raleigh.

Somehow the panic inside her worsened. With a strangled gasp, she watched as the call rang, and rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. After a long minute or two, the voicemail message popped up too. Along with several new texts.

Suiko unlocked her phone, which automatically opened her texts with Raleigh.

can we talk?

i’m sure you’ve seen it by now. call? too much for text

She exhaled sharply and played his voicemail.

“Hey, Suiko. Listen...all of that stuff you’re probably seeing...it’s not what it looks like, okay? Call me. Or come over. Or I can come over there.”

After the last word he spoke, the line stayed silently connected for several seconds before cutting out, like he’d been waiting for a response.

Suiko stared at the messages. ‘It’s not what it looks like’ is what people said when it was exactly what it looked like.

A fresh wave of misery roiled inside her.

Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt.

Another call: from Avery Wilshere.

Suiko hastened to pick up. He immediately spoke on the other line.

“Suiko? Are you alright?”

She paused. “Is it true?” was all that came out of her mouth, and she was disgusted to find that her voice was thick with sleep and tears.

Avery sighed, and she got the feeling that she hadn’t been meant to hear it. “I had Fiona call EE! News. The pictures aren’t fake.”

The last bit of hope that had bloomed in Suiko’s chest shriveled. “Oh,” she whispered into the phone.

“I’m coming over,” said Avery resolutely, the sound of shuffling accompanying his words.

“You don’t have to—”

“Be there in ten.”

The line went dead.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, a sharp knock sounded at the door and Avery Wilshere stood on the other side of the threshold, hair still mussed from sleep, but glowing gold as he always did— even with bedhead.

Before she could say a word, he was folding her into his arms, pulling her tight against his chest. She took a deep inhale, letting herself be grounded by his familiar laundry-and-baked-goods scent. She didn’t realize she was crying until she saw the wet marks on his shirt as they separated.

“What do you need?” he said softly, brushing the hair from her face.

Suiko stared into his good, earnest face. She didn’t know what she needed. Didn’t know what she wanted.

So she said, “Sleep.”

He let out a small, understanding smile, and led her carefully back into her bedroom. “I’ll be right back,” he told her upon depositing her on the bed. In a moment he returned with a glass of water and a hair band.

As she drank, he pulled her long, dark locks back into a braid down her spine. Suiko hadn’t even realized that her hair, sticking to her face and neck, had been contributing to the trapped feeling in her heart.

“I need to sleep,” she told him again.

Avery smiled, his blue eyes gentle. “I’ll be here.”

When she woke up, her phone was buzzing again. This time, sunlight streamed in through the windows, and morning sounds of yelling and car engines and horns penetrated the walls.

Suiko stared at the chair by her bed.

Avery was seated there, one hand propped on his hand, eyes closed as he slept.

A sudden feeling of fondness stretched in her chest as she watched him.

Until the events of the night clawed back into her consciousness. Suiko grabbed her phone. Fiona was calling. She quickly answered.

“Fiona?”

“Where are you?” came the sharp reply. “You were supposed to be here at 8. Am I expected to deal with this circus on my own?”

Suiko couldn’t help it — she sniffled. Just loud enough to be heard over the phone.

“Can you be here at two?” Fiona said, her tone fractionally kinder.

“Yes,” said Suiko miserably.

“Eat some breakfast,” said Fiona briskly, and promptly hung up the phone.

On the screen blinked several messages from the woman herself, a couple more from Shane, and twelve — twelve! — from Raleigh.

Someone started to bang on the door.

Suiko glanced over at Avery. He was still sleeping, and looked so peaceful that she didn’t want to wake him. She crept out of bed into her apartment.

Whoever was knocking was still there. She could hear pacing footsteps, then another round of incessant knocking. Warily, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

Raleigh.

He wore what looked like clothes from the night before -- a wrinkled gray t-shirt and dark jacket.

“Suiko,” he breathed, like he was relieved. “Can I come in?”

She just stared at him. His words weren’t making sense in her brain. None of this was making sense in her brain. Every time she looked at him, she saw that other girl wrapped around him.

“Please,” Raleigh said, and she’d never heard his voice sound like that before. In that brief moment of surprise, she took a step back and he entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you here to tell me that it’s not true?” Suiko’s voice sounded small and glum even to her own ears. She focused her eyes on the floor by Raleigh’s shoe so she wouldn’t have to look into those eyes.

Then she felt his hands, lightly touching her shoulders. “I’m here to explain.”

“What if she doesn’t want an explanation?” came a voice behind them.

Suiko spun to see Avery, tousled hair and all, standing at the door to her bedroom with a stony expression. She felt, more than saw, the stiffness that ran through Raleigh at the sight.

“What are you doing here?” snapped Raleigh, all traces of softness gone. His eyes were flicking between Avery and the bedroom door.

Avery stalked forwards. “I’ve been here all night, comforting Suiko for something you did.” His voice was cold and tight -- not like his usual gentle cadence at all.

Raleigh’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “She doesn’t need your comforting.”

Suiko said quietly, “Let go of me.” He flinched, but obediently, his fingers loosened and released her. Avery advanced, pulling Suiko slightly behind him.

“Don’t touch her,” Raleigh snapped, fury blazing in his dark eyes.

Avery scoffed. “I’d say if you want to touch her ever again, you’d better start grovelling.”

“I’m here to explain!” Raleigh took a controlled breath, hands fisting at his sides. “Last night wasn’t like how the tabloids are spinning it. I mean, yes. I went out. I guess I had too much to drink. I don’t know -- I don’t remember.” He finally glanced away. “I swear, when she kissed me, I shoved her off right after that picture was taken.”

“Fuck you, Carrera,” Avery spat, and Suiko gasped. She’d never heard the blonde pop singer swear. She’d never seen him this angry. “You expect her to believe that?”

“Yes, because it’s true!” Raleigh’s eyes locked with hers. “I swear. That’s all that happened.” A dark shadow fell over his face. “My PR team sent me there...to that bar. They encouraged me to drink. I think they even could have hired that girl.”

Suiko shivered. She wanted badly to believe him. But her brain was still fuzzy from sleep, and Avery and Raleigh were staring each other down, and Fiona’s presence seemed to loom over the room even though she wasn’t there. It was all too much.

“I...I don’t know,” she stammered stupidly.

Avery seemed to sense the way she was shrinking in on herself. “I think you should go,” he said to Raleigh.

“Yeah? Make me.”

“No --” Suiko began, but they were already advancing on each other, nearly nose to nose.

“I have more right to be here than you,” hissed Raleigh venomously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m her boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Please,” Suiko said, but they didn’t notice her quiet word. It was as if they’d forgotten she was in the room too.

Avery flashed a dangerous smile that looked more like baring his teeth. “Think you’re going to be holding onto that title for much longer?”

A moment of stillness filled the room. There were many things in that long second that came after Avery’s remark: a flash of deep anger in Raleigh’s dark eyes; a tightening in the muscles at the back of Avery’s neck; the sound of a car door slamming outside; the sensation of being frozen and unable to move an inch.

And then that moment ended.

Avery and Raleigh crashed together with a terrible sound. Suiko leaped back as she watched Raleigh land a solid punch, right to Avery’s jaw. The blonde pop singer retaliated quickly, driving his fist into Raleigh’s abdomen. They became a blur of motion, of swinging limbs and grunts of pain and horrible fury.

“Stop,” said Suiko, and realized she was crying. Then louder, “Stop!”

They both froze. Avery had the sense to look guilty. Raleigh just wore an expression that said, what-do-you-expect-from-me?

“I want both of you to leave.” She pulled her arms tight around herself. “Right now.”

Avery looked stricken. He stared down at his hands like he couldn’t recognize them. “Suiko, I --”

“Please just go.”

He swallowed and nodded, a quick and jerky movement. And then he was gone.

“You too,” she said to Raleigh.

But he was staring at her. His face was so open, in a way she hadn’t seen before. And before she could say anything -- before she could even think of something else to say -- he was cradling her in his arms and kissing her, softly, like she was made of glass. He’d split his knuckles in the fight, and as his hand brushed over her cheek, she felt the warm wetness of his blood. It brought her back to the present.

“I can’t do this right now.” Suiko pulled back with difficulty.

“Please --”

“Go.”

His dark eyes flickered. Then he slouched through the door, pulling it shut behind him. Suiko watched him leave.

She was in so deep over her head.

#playchoices #choices #pixelberry #raleigh carrera #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera x mc #avery wilshere #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #platinum #pb platinum #platinum pb #choices platinum #platinum choices #ashsilla #losses

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arda-ancalima · 5 years ago

Note

Fairy tale for Obi-Wan and Siri. Childhood for Tahl and Qui-Gon.

Thanks for the fic prompts!! These were fun to play with. :D

Well, as usual I worked on and let these sit for waaaaay too long and am now throwing the imperfect projects out to the world and running away, promising myself I’ll fix them if I want them on Ao3 later. The first one also got way too long and the second is self-indulgent fluff - I hope you enjoy! XD (and maybe one day I’ll even not be apologetic when I post content lol)

Fairy tale for Obi-Wan and Siri

“Somehow, whenever I’m ona mission with you, we always get separated from our masters,” Siri grumbled,glaring at Obi-Wan as if it was his fault they were stranded in this forest.Qui-Gon and Adi had been called back to the city, and left their Padawans tocontinue looking for their suspect in the outlying village and forest, but theyhad gotten lost.

“This is only the secondtime.” Obi-Wan held back a sigh and pulled his hood farther down against theincessant rain, for what good it did. The fabric, heavy from absorbing so muchwater, clung to his skin.

“Also, you’re an idiot.”

Obi-Wan felt his patienceslipping. “And how was I supposed to know that the native creatures atepebbles?”

“I thought you were thesenior Padawan.”

Obi-Wan was about to shootback a retort when his gaze caught the edge of a roof through the trees. “Isthat—”

“A house,” Siri said withobvious relief. She was also soaked and her hair hung limp in clumps around herface. Pushing it behind her ears, she hurried with Obi-Wan to the cottage andtook shelter under the eaves.

As they were catchingtheir breath and enjoying the respite from the rain, they felt a slight tremorin the Force. They were alert at once, and Obi-Wan kept his hand near hislightsaber.

Near them, the old-fashionedwooden door of the cottage opened and a human woman poked her head out. Herhair was jet black and her wrinkled face and hands indicated her age. She worea maroon dress and some goggles that were tinted and foggy. “Children! Come in,come in, get out of the rain!”

Obi-Wan and Siri exchangeda glance, but as the woman appeared harmless on the surface and they could usethe shelter, they followed her inside.

The woman directed them inthe kitchen and went toward another room. “Put your cloaks by the stove! I’llget you some blankets.”

Peeling off their hoods,Obi-Wan and Siri laid their garments by an old contraption they could only tellwas an oven because the woman had pointed to it and it had a large door.

Soon they were sittingaround a little table with the woman, wrapped in blankets with hot spicy tea.

“So, what brings youchildren all the way out here?” she said.

Obi-Wan noticed Siribristle at being called a child, so he jumped in. “We are Jedi, ma’am, looking forsomeone and got lost, and waiting for our masters to return with transport. I’mObi-Wan Kenobi, and this is Siri Tachi, miss…?”

“Call me Agatha, dear,”she said, her grin making Obi-Wan uneasy. “Jedi, you say? I’ve only heard ofJedi from the old tales. But you’re such wee ones.She squinted up and down at Obi-Wan through her foggy goggles as if sizing himup. He tried not to squirm. “Are you thin? Or properly plump? Give me your arm,my dear boy.”

Obi-Wan’s expressionturned horrified and he started to stretch out his arm, but Siri quickly kickedhim under the table and slipped him her lightsaber. Catching on, Obi-Wan pulledthe lightsaber back into his sleeve and guided the cloth-covered hilt to thewoman’s outstretched hand.

Agatha felt the slenderhandgrip of Siri’s lightsaber, much thinner than Obi-Wan’s own lightsaber, andtutted. “So thin. This will not do at all.”

Unable to withstand therevulsion that filled his stomach, Obi-Wan pulled the lightsaber back, willingthe woman not to react.

“So, Miss Agatha,” Siribroke in, her tone all business, but with uneasiness in her eyes. “Someone inthis sector used to be a nanny for the missing princess. Do you happen to knowwho?”

“Why of course, dear,”Agatha said. “It’s me.”

Obi-Wan and Siri bothstarted. “You?” Obi-Wan said.

“Am I not what you wereexpecting?”

“No, just, I didn’t thinkwe’d find you out here,” Obi-Wan stammered, not liking the stare she was stillgiving him. “We’ve been asked by the king to find an object once belonging tothe princess he thought you might have. A bracelet?”

They had been told it hadtracking information inside, and could help confirm or deny that the princesswas lost years ago while the king tried to determine his heir before sicknesstook him.

“Ah yes,” Agatha said, finallylooking away as she leaned back in her chair. “I do have it.”

“Can you lend it to us sowe can take it to the king?” Siri asked.

“Hm. Perhaps,” she said,disinterested. “It’s in a safe, if I could only remember the combination. Ithink I have it written down somewhere.”

“Will you please find itfor us?” Siri said, her smile clearly fake to anyone who could see properly.

Agatha considered. “I willdo my best, children. But there is so much to do around my home!”

Obi-Wan did his best topull himself together. “Why don’t we do some work around the house while you findthe code?”

Agatha gave anotherunnerving grin. “Splendid!” She pushed herself up with apparent great effort.“Girl, the kitchen needs to be swept and the oven made hotter for cooking. Boy,I need some crates unstacked in the attic. Run along now!” She swept out,leaving the two Padawans alone.

“Okay, we’re switchingjobs, right?” Siri said. “You know me and kitchen work.”

“We don’t want to upsetAgatha,” Obi-Wan reminded her. “She may be our only way to complete thismission.”

“Fine! I’ll do this stupidsweeping and turning up the oven! What sort of native food could she need theoven hotter for,” Siri grumbled as she grabbed the broom leaning against thewall and haphazardly swept back and forth.

Keeping his comments tohimself, Obi-Wan found a narrow staircase leading to the attic. When he openedthe little door, he saw the stacked crates she mentioned. He stepped in and thedoor shut with a soft click. Obi-Wan told himself to not be paranoid, and setto work.

It didn’t take long at allto unstack the crates so they were all accessible, and when he finished,Obi-Wan tried the door. He had been right to worry, as it was indeed lockedfrom the other side.

He had his lightsaber withhim, but he didn’t want to destroy someone’s property just on a suspicion; itcould have been unintentional.

But the sense he got fromSiri below told him otherwise. Obi-Wan quieted his mind and used the Force toheighten his senses, focusing on the voices coming from downstairs.

First the frustrated voiceof Agatha: “I can’t cook if it’s not hot enough, just climb in and test it.”

Then the strangely demurevoice of Siri: “I don’t know how. Can you show me?”

“Idiot girl!” Agatha said,pretenses obviously gone. “I’ll show you how—”

And then sounds of a slam,electronic beeps, and running footsteps before the attic door swung open.

“She was trying to captureus, as you may have guessed,” Siri said, beckoning for Obi-Wan to come downstairs.He followed her back to the kitchen, where there were muffled screams comingfrom the oven.

“Siri…did you…was shetrying to eat us?”

“Did I what?” Siri asked,then scowled as understanding dawned. “No, of course not. It’s not actually anoven.” She pointed out an unfamiliar panel. “It’s a carbon freezing chamber.Our friend is a little higher-tech than we thought. Agatha is safe, and alsolocked up. Giving us time to search for the bracelet and find out what she wasup to.”

Before long, they hadfound not only the bracelet they had been asked to locate, but other items thatthey guessed may have belonged to the royal child. Their suspicions wereconfirmed when they found a logbook detailing attempts at carbon freezing,noting that humans must be of a certain weight or, like a child it had beenattempted on, they would not survive the process. Obi-Wan and Siri looked ateach other.

“Even if we didn’t havethe bracelet to prove it, we have enough evidence that the princess waskidnapped by her nanny,” Obi-Wan said.

“I hate to think what thiswoman might have done to her,” Siri said just before her comlink signaled.“Hello Master, we found the bracelet and the culprit. We’ll need the royalguard to come take custody of the prisoner.

“The prisoner?” Adi’s dry voice came over the comlink.

“We have this missionbasically wrapped up, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

Siri grinned at him.“Yeah, turned out we could handle this one ourselves.”

“Wouldn’t mind transportthough, if perhaps Master Qui-Gon has finally worked it out?” Obi-Wan added,feeling the horror start to drift away.

“I can hear you, Padawan,” Qui-Gon broke in. “We’ll contact the palace and come find you. Siri, keep your comlinkactivated so we can track it.”

Obi-Wan tried to catch Siri’seye as she put her comlink back on her belt. “Thank you. You did some quickthinking.”

He meant it and knew sheunderstood, even as she brushed it off. “Just glad this mission is going tohave another happy ending.”

Childhood for Tahl and Qui-Gon

“Are you going to ask fora transfer?”

Qui-Gon started. “A what?”

Tahl tossed her studymaterials on his sleep couch and plopped on the floor where they usually spreadout their books after class. She waited for him to sit too, which he didreluctantly.

“You might be able to foolMaster Yoda, and most other people, but I know you best,” Tahl said. “You’reafraid of Dooku, and don’t think you’ll be a good match.”

“That’s not true, I’m notafraid,” Qui-Gon protested, feeling warm with embarrassment. Of course hecouldn’t hide what he’d been thinking all day from his best friend. “MasterDooku is one of the greatest swordsmen in the Order, and it’s an honor to knowI will be his Padawan when I turn thirteen.”

“But you don’t thinkyou’ll be a good fit,” Tahl pressed, her voice becoming gentle.

Qui-Gon paused, thinking.“I don’t know him very well. We seem to think differently about things, andhe’s sort of aloof. But I have much to learn, don’t I? I’ll probably be abetter Jedi if I learn from someone unlike me.”

Tahl considered this.“That makes sense. But you’re too nice for him, and ever since he chose you,you’ve been even quieter than usual. And I don’t think you’ve gotten intotrouble once, which really worriesme.”

Shrugging, Qui-Gon laugheda little despite himself. “I just want to be a good Padawan, and a good JediKnight someday.

“I know. And you will be,”Tahl said with her radiant smile. “But think about it, okay? There’s no shamein admitting you wouldn’t be a good fit.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “I’llmeditate on it.”

“That’s the tone that says‘I’m going to continue being stubborn about this thing, I’m just trying to getTahl to shut up.’”

Leave it to her to cheerhim up even after a day of worry. She was right though—he wasn’t going toconsider asking for a different master.

“So how is your class projectgoing?” Qui-Gon asked.

Tahl made a face. “It’sthe worst and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sure Master Difusalwould help you if you asked.”

“I can figure it out on myown.”

“Now who’s beingstubborn,” Qui-Gon said quietly, and looked up at Tahl with a half-smile.

Tahl sighed dramatically.“I hate it when you use my words against me. But I hate asking for help evenmore.”

“That’s not a sign ofweakness either,” Qui-Gon insisted. “Let me help you at least.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But aren’t friendssupposed to help each other?”

Tahl was silent, and for afew moments they just sat together on the floor by Qui-Gon’s sleep couch.

“I’ll think about it,” shesaid finally.

“And you’re not justsaying that?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Tahl locked eyes with him,and he could see her sincerity and depth of her care for their friendshipbeneath all the bickering. “…Okay. I’ll think about it for real.”

Qui-Gon smiled.

“If only because I knowyou won’t stop pestering me,” Tahl added.

“…You do know me well.”

#arda writes

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