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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room.

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised.

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible even as unshed tears glimmer

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace.

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final.

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him.

he lost.

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs.

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever.

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain.

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple:

he wants to cry.

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry.

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all.

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy.

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions.

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain.

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower.

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right.

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt.

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline.

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!!

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look.

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips.

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you.

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him.

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word.

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch.

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips.

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so other people can read it! 💖

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi@knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall@miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine@hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @limiworld @jeonyoongi-jimin @buttvi @yoontaethings @sunshinejunghoseokie @delacyrose224@jiminiesmagicshop @hitsussi @fanfictonreader05 @hyungieyoongi @lolalee24

#bts reactions #namjoon reaction #jin reaction #yoongi reaction #suga reaction #hobi reaction #bts hyung line #bts angst #bts maknae line #bts x reader #this is seriously a bummer of a post lol #bts fanfic #bts scenarios

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stanknotstark · 4 years ago

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Nails ‘n Spa

So I have a REALLY hard time saying no to people. As I’ve grown I’ve gotten better about it but usually end up saying sorry profusely after I say no. Idk i’m very much a people pleaser so i have a hard time making my own decisions too. So this is where this came from :P

“Hey, would you like to go on a run with me?” Steve asked you.

“Uh....” You knew Steve woke at the ass crack of dawn and honestly you loved sleeping in but you really didn’t want to hurt his feelings and you don’t know how to say no, it’s just never been apart of your vocabulary since you’re a people pleaser. “Ya....I’d love to.” You smiled at Steve.

“Liar.” Loki said once Steve had left the kitchen and it was just you two.

You sighed and laid your head on your arms with a groan.

“I know, I don’t, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“You need to learn to say no, your job isn’t to please everyone.” Loki frowned at you, sipping on his tea, walking up to you he hummed.

“Go get dressed, something comfortable, if you wear pants make sure the legs can be rolled up and wear a short sleeve shirt or tank top. Also wear flips flops or sandals where you toes will be out in the open.”

You looked up at Loki confused but said, “Yes, sir!”

~~~~

You and Loki were making your way down a street when he stopped in front of a nail salon, you walking so close to him you almost ran straight into him.

“We’re here.” He said, opening the door to the salon. You raised your eyebrows at him but went inside.

The minute Loki stepped inside all the women started talking to him.

“Mr. Loki! Mr. Loki, it’s so good to see you, how are you?” One Vietnamese woman said coming up to you both, her accent strong but not so strong you couldn’t tell what she was saying. Smiling, she shook Loki’s hand, then turned to look at you and shake your hand too. “This your girlfriend?”

“Something like that.” Loki said smiling at her too.

“I’ll get my usual, she would like a mani and pedi,” Loki looked down to you, “Go pick a color, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, you had a crush on the God but right now he was acting as if you were a couple and you were happy about it, of course, but at the same time you thought your heart was going to burst out and run away at all this...affection.

“Ya, ok.” You said making your way to the wall of polish. Finally, you decided on a shimmering gold and the lady that had welcomed you lead you to a massage chair next to Loki where you both rolled your pants up and stuck your feet into the warm water.

Luckily no one else was at the salon so you and Loki were able to talk more freely.

“Loki I appreciate this and all but why did you bring me to a nail salon?”

Loki smirked and turned to look at you from his chair.

“I think you’ll realize in due time, darling.”

You pouted but he didn’t say anything more so you shrugged and decided to enjoy yourself, it had been months since you had splurged on yourself like this anyways.

The Vietnamese woman came back with a laminated sheet and gave it to you.

“Would you like the Ice Dancer pedicure, it’s very nice, especially great for your legs and relaxing them?”

You looked at all the choices there were only 5 but the Ice Dancer was the most expensive. Thinking on it you hadn’t brought your wallet....

“Loki, I don’t have my wallet, and even if I did I don’t have the money to pay you back right now...”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it covered.”

“No Lok-”

“I’ve got it, darling,” Loki frowned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the massage chair, “Please.”

You swallowed and looked back down at the choices.

“I’ll take the regular.”

“No, she’ll take the Ice Dancer, Duyen.”

“I-”

Loki and the woman looked at you expectedly, Loki’s brow raised in question, a challenging look in his eye. You swallowed and looked at Duyen. “Ya, I’ll take the Ice Dancer.” You said looking down to your hands and fiddling with them to avoid looking at Loki. What you didn’t see was the disappointment on his face, luckily.

How were you gonna pay him back, you mani and pedi would surely cost over $100 and that would be a little over 25% of what you made bi-weekly. You assumed Loki could see the guilt chewing you up inside so he placed a hand on yours, causing you to look up at him.

“You could have said no.”

“I- Loki I can’t.”

“Yes you can, if you don’t want it say no.”

You bit your lip but nodded, not that you were going to say no though.

Both you and Loki sat back and enjoyed the pedicure the two Vietnamese women gave you, you both sharing small talk here and there but mostly enjoying the massage the women gave your legs. When it came to nail polish time, you saw Loki getting black. You smiled, it suited him.

“I like black on you. You know most men would never agree to doing this or getting a clear polish.” You said admiring how the black really brought his pale skin out.

“I am not most men.”

“That you are not.” You said, blushing when Loki smirked at you.

Next you were both seated at desks so they could do your manicure. It had started out great and then the woman handling your nails started trying to push choices on you. When she pulled out fake nails your eyes grew wide and you panicked. You REALLY didn’t like long nails, you played the violin and couldn’t play if you had fake nails on but you’d have to tell her no. Through all your panic you didn’t see Loki not outright staring at you but smirking at your internal turmoil.

“Uh!” The woman had placed the fake nail on yours but looked up at you, “I’m so so sorry I uh play violin I can’t have long nails, I’m really sorry!”

The woman smiled and nodded, pulling your hand up so you both could look at the nails.

“Square?” the woman asked.

Swallowing, you squirmed in your seat. You just wanted them to be plain, rounded. Looking to Loki for help he looked at you but didn’t say anything to help. Taking in a deep breath you looked at the woman again.

“Uh, no, could you make them round?” the fear going through your body finally relaxed as you got out your words. To be honest you really weren’t used to asking for what you wanted either, you were very much a people pleaser.

“Ok!” The woman said, then pulled out a bunch of supplies which you realized was meant for gel or shellac nails. Which of course you didn’t want. At this point you were gonna be in tears soon, you really hated saying no.

Thankfully, Loki stepped in, leaning over into your space he looked at what was going on and said, “I think she would prefer just the polish, no gel today.” Loki glanced at you and winked.

Suddenly it hit you like a freight train. Loki was forcing you to get comfortable saying no. While it was a sweet gesture it was very nerve wrecking so you promised you’d get him back somehow. For now you’d be happy about him caring though.

Thankfully the rest of the trip went without a hitch or you having to say no. Ready to get back to the tower you both walked out of the salon and headed towards the tower.

“Thanks.” You said looked down at the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk as you walked. Feeling something brush your hand, you watched as Loki took your hand in his, but when you looked up he was looking forward as if it wasn’t happening. After you had walked most of the way back Loki finally spoke.

“I don’t want you to get into a bad situation simply because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by saying no.”

Reaching the edge of the tower you both stopped and looked at each other, people walking past you but ignoring you both,

“I-” You looked at your locked hands, “Unfortunately I’ve been in plenty of bad situations because of this but I’ll try harder for you.” You said, looking him in the eyes, determined. Loki looked at you, no emotion on his face, then gave a small smile.

“Good, I expect nothing less than your best.”

~~~~

“Kid! You wanna help Bruce and me blow up something?” Tony asked you excitedly. You looked at Loki who you sat next to on the couch and he raised an eyebrow at you. That sounded extremely dangerous so you looked back at Tony and smiled sadly, “No, Tony, I’m good.”

Tony shrugged, “Alright, have fun then love birds!” Tony yelled as he ran down the stairs towards his lab.

You felt Loki’s fingers grab your chin and make you look at him. His eyes on your lips.

“Good girl.”

Your heart fluttered, trying to focus on his eyes but you kept glancing at his lips. Finally, Loki kissed you. When he pulled back you still had your eyes closed and said, “I really need to say no more often.”

Loki chuckled then caught your lips again.

#loki x reader #how to say no #one shot #loki odinson #ive decided good loki is loki odinson #bad loki or angsty is loki laufeyson #tag wise that is #my writing #loki #fluff

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calpalirwin · 4 years ago

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Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin�� worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers.

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @kaitieskidmore1 @wiiildflowerrr @heartskippeddabeat

#better now #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird · 4 years ago

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That person might not have said top ten but I would like to see the other five underrated animes 👀

(First post) I’LL KEEP ‘EM COMING, I LIVE FOR RECOMMENDING ANIME. I keep changing my mind on which ones to include because there’s so much good shit out there.

By the way, all of the recommendations in this list AND the last one are 26 episodes or less and tell a complete story. No cliffhangers, no “finish the manga to see the finale”, no “where’s the rest of it???” endings. That’s why, for now, Stars Align and Princess Jellyfish still get stuck with the honorable mentions even though what’s been made for both of them is incredible.

1. The Tatami Galaxy (Drama, Introspective)

The director behind Ping Pong the Animation and the original author behind Eccentric Family join forces to make Tatami Galaxy, which capitalizes on the best strengths of both shows. The protagonist is a lonely college student facing the prospect of graduating after having thoroughly wasted his college years. He bemoans how circumstances outside of his control, from conniving fake-friends to selfish and shallow extras, have conspired to ruin what should have been a “rose-colored campus life”, and wishes he could do it over again so he can get it right.

So he does, with the show using avant-garde animation and abstract storytelling to explore all of his threads of what-ifs. The plotlines seem separate but weave together and subtly build on each other, culminating to a finale that explores the meaning of relationships and who you are in the absence of outside forces that can define you. It’s heartfelt, funny, raunchy, and deep, and perfectly encapsulates the existential dread of being in college. I watched it for the first time when I was about to finish undergrad and it hit like an emotional freight train, then I rewatched it during quarantine and it hit like a truck. This is one of my top favorite anime of all time.

2. Re:Creators (Fantasy, action)

Most of the anime I’ve put on these lists get their spots for being deep, nuanced, and delicately crafted. This is not one of them. But, by god, is it one of the most over-the-top fun shows I’ve ever seen. Re:Creators is a rare reverse-isekai. Fictional characters from popular anime, games, and manga suddenly start turning up in the real world, instructed to “find your Creator and reshape the world you came from”. The soundtrack by Hiroyuki Sawano is bar-none one of the hypest things out there; seriously, just listen to Layers, the song for a character from a grimdark everyone-dies series begging her author to tell her why.

The characters in this show are so fun to watch bounce off each other, even if they’re not as “three dimensional” as others. Magical girls fight Stand users, mechs face down scifi-noir detectives, Lawful Good Paladins go toe-to-toe with Chaotic Evil light novel villains. But by including the artists who imagined these characters as characters themselves, it also has a lot to say about the creative process, the reasons people create, and the relationship between an artist and their work. Between the high-octane fight scenes, there’s a surprisingly human and genuine throughline.

3. Sora no Woto (Slice of life, music, post-apocalyptic)

This show is another of my favorite examples of worldbuilding done right. A young girl joins the army as a bugler because it’s one of the only ways she can learn to play music. The episode plots focus on how she and her tiny regiment of young women stationed at a small town in the middle of nowhere deal with day-to-day troubles, while the details of the world around them slowly fill and round out the picture of a broken society where people still just... live. They still create myths, they still have festivals, they still blow glass and tell ghost stories and make art. The plots seem inconsequential, until the world built into the background becomes too prominent to ignore. The background art and music is some of the most gorgeous I’ve seen. It’s part of a genre I’ve been calling “soft apocalypse” and it’s been one of my favorites for years.

BONUS MENTION: Girl’s Last Tour (Slice of life, post-apocalyptic)

Yes, I’m cheating, but listen. Girl’s Last Tour fits perfectly into the canon narrative provided by Sora no Woto, just set in the far future, a few apocalypses later. It’s got less of a main plot, because there’s almost nothing of society left, just two girls wandering together through an abandoned world. It’s soft, introspective, and bittersweet, showing how humanity is still humanity no matter how few people are left. Despite having nothing about their productions in common, it’s the perfect spiritual successor to Sora no Woto and they deserve to be recommended in the same spot.

4. Tamako Market (+ the movie) (Romance, slice-of-life)

This show is the platonic ideal of a soft, heartwarming, sweet-as-sugar, slice-of-life romance. It follows the daily life of Tamako, a high school girl who lives above a family-owned mochi shop in a shopping center, who is followed around by a talking bird trying to find a bride for his prince in a far-off land. But really the show isn’t about the bird. The show is about love in all its forms. The love that the other families in the shopping center have for Tamako, the love that she and her friends have for each other, the love they have for the activities they’re passionate about, the love you feel when someone makes you a cup of coffee, fated love, childhood crushes, family love.

Something about this show that also stands out is how gently and naturally it incorporates some of the best queer representation I’ve ever seen in anime. One of the shop owners is a kind and soft-spoken trans woman, who is never the butt of a joke, never questioned, never treated as different, loved all the same. One of Tamako’s friends is gay, and her crush on Tamako is treated with as much respect and care as every other moment in the show. This series never makes you flinch for fear of “representation” that turns sour. It’s the epitome of a feel-good show.

5. ACCA 13-Territory Inspection Department (Political, mystery, drama)

Yes, I keep saving my favorites for last on these lists. I can’t describe this show as anything but the perfectly written plot. As a rule, I don’t like political dramas, and this is one of my favorite anime of all time. It’s set in a fictional country, where 13 regions all exist relatively independently under one collective monarchical ruler, and follows Jean, an agent of the independent Inspection Department, which acts as a check and balance to each power. The series begins with Jean being assigned a full review of each territory while the powers-that-be field whispers of a coup. This show masters foreshadowing, intrigue, escalation, and mystery. The stakes build and overlap on scales from intensely personal to national. The pacing is amazing, keeping tension balanced with plot twists that answer more questions than they ask.

Plus, it’s got one of the most visually appealing and stylized openings out there. I realize that political drama isn’t exactly escapism right now, but believe me, this series is worth it.

#my posts #anime recommendations #acca 13 #tamako market #girls last tour #sora no woto #re creators #tatami galaxy #i literally spend HOURS on each of these lists #i love pointing people towards good anime #THERES GOOD SHIT OUT THERE #again if yall dont know about baccano by now just assume im always willing to tell you abt it #my asks #Anonymous

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lilbabycee · 4 years ago

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may we be blessed with a smutty birthday drabble w Steve where he has everyone pretend they forgot readers birthday when in reality there’s something big planned 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 never had a big bday so I will be living through this lolz

change of plans // steve rogers

↳ pairing: steve rogers x reader

i’m actually sorry this took so long and sorry that it’s so long too lol:

you don’t know if you’re ready to face today.

it’s your birthday and you’ve never done anything big or extravagant - you think that maybe you’d like to keep it that way, though you’ve never had a big celebration before so you don’t even know how that’d feel. maybe there’s something comforting about the predictability of how today is going to go, but you can’t help the part deep inside of you that longs for something new.

waking up to an empty bed, you brace yourself for some kind of over-the-top present from tony but as you head out of your bedroom, you find the rest of you and steve’s apartment entirely unchanged. you tentatively walk through empty hallways into the kitchen and everyone is standing around aimlessly, chatting to each other about insignificant things and attempting to make themselves breakfast.

“hi guys,” you smile at all of them and they return the sentiment. “what are you making?”

steve breezes by you to press a brief kiss to your forehead before shoving a piece of burnt toast into his mouth. his voice is muffled when he says, “mornin’ doll.”

“looks like it’ll be cereal cause none of these idiots know how to cook,” natasha sidles up to you, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head playfully at the group of men crowding the kitchen. “sam’s still working out and we don’t wanna have to wait until he’s done. we probably should’ve though: he’s the only one who knows how to make anything decent in here.” she nudges your shoulder, “any plans today?”

you’re momentarily thrown, blinking in confusion because natasha always remembers your birthday.

“uhh,” you shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, “no, nope. not up to much really. how about you?”

bruce strolls by and waves at you while natasha plucks a grape from his bowl, popping it into her mouth. he gives her a look but she just smirks as she chews slowly, ignoring him and turning back to you.

“actually, fury called not too long ago. he’s got some important mission lined up for us somewhere in alaska... surveillance or something.”

“oh,” you frown, brow furrowing because you thought that you would’ve heard about it. “should i go suit up or...?”

“actually,” natasha swallows her grape and stands up straight, “it’s only some of us going. sam and bucky are staying here with you: the rest of us are heading out in about an hour.”

your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to spend your birthday with the whole team, though it seems as if they’ve forgetten anyway so maybe it’s not that big of a deal. but the thought is fleeting because you realize that you’re going to be able to spend some quality time with two of your favorite people who will definitely have remembered your birthday.

when the quinjet takes off an hour and a half later, sam, bucky, and yourself are all left standing on the launchpad, bucky’s hair blowing dramatically in the gust of wind that it leaves behind.

“so,” bucky rocks back on his heels and stares at you with a mischievous smile on his face. “what do you wanna do?”

“neither of you have any plans?” you look at them skeptically but they both shake their heads. you look down, disappointed because they always do something fun for you on your birthday. sam always bakes a cake and bucky always lets you win when you’re sparring but since neither have happened today, you’re assuming that they’ve forgotten... just like everybody else.

sam shrugs noncommitally.

“nope,” he adds, giving you a charming gap-toothed grin. “i mean, i’ve got some paperwork to do and i’m sure bucky’s got some knives to sharpen or something-”

bucky pins him with a glare but then looks back to you. “-but otherwise, we’re totally free...so, doll?”

“we could watch a movie?”

“yes!” sam exclaims excitedly, already sprinting inside. you and bucky are still staring at the door he burst through when you hear him call out: “i’ve got dibs on the first pick!”

that makes bucky’s eyes go wide and he quickly starts to chase after him.

“fuck no- sam!”

you’re sandwiched between your two heavily muscled best friends, cuddled up on the sofa with your body spread across the laps of both sam and bucky. a thick blanket is draped over all three of you while die hard plays in the background, but none of you are paying attention because you’re all making each other cry with laughter which drowns out the sound of the movie.

“we should go out tonight,” bucky casually suggests during a lull in the conversation, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table.

“true,” sam agrees, nodding his head. you look at him in shock because his default state is to always disagree with bucky. “the others aren’t supposed to be back for a couple of days so i don’t wanna stay all cooped up in here. you down, sugar?”

“yeah, i’ll go,” you nod, playing with your fingers because you’re still so shocked that they’re just casually making plans like today isn’t your birthday. of course you’re not going to point it out to them - you don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but you think that it’d be nice to be wished a happy birthday at least once today.

hours later, you’re wearing your favorite outfit - “we’re going to dinner, darlin’,” bucky let you know earlier - and just touching up your face when bucky and sam pause their incessant bickering to call you downstairs. at this point, you’ve come to terms with the fact that not a single person in your life has remembered your birthday. you’d shed a couple of tears in the bathroom not because you are dying for a huge birthday celebration, but rather because it goes to show that you don’t hold a lot of relevance in these people’s lives.

nobody on the team has ever forgotten a teammate’s birthday, so it cut deep this morning when they all went about their day as normal and barely even acknowledged your presence. you tried to brush it off but the moment you were alone, it all hit you like an oncoming freight train.

ready to forget this disappointing day and move on, you come down the stairs as quickly as you can and head to the front door only to see sam and bucky dressed impeccably and... still arguing. they stop when you stand in front of them. sam whistles loudly which makes you roll your eyes playfully while bucky just nods his head.

“you look great, doll,” he smiles at you and not being able to take any more compliments, you clear your throat loudly and step in between them.

“let’s go,” you say and grab a coat, stepping into the garage. once you all pile into one of tony’s many cars, you take off into the night.

you’re too distracted by your racing thoughts to notice the moment that you pull up outside of an extravagant hotel. you frown as you get out of the car because you thought you were going for dinner at the restaurant on the other side of town.

“change of plans, lil bit. tony recommended this place to us a few weeks ago and we just never got around to going.” sam smiles at you, offering you an arm as bucky flanks your other side. when you step foot inside of the luxurious building after handing the car keys to the valet outside, a well-dressed usher leads you down a hallway to an entirely separate part of the ground floor. you don’t think much of it because you’re used to private dining when tony’s involved, but you manage to lose both of your friends by the time you’ve made it through the labyrinth of hallways.

“excuse me, have you seen the two men i was with just a second ago?” you ask the usher kindly. he looks back at you and just smiles.

“this way, please,” he gestures for you to open the doors however, something doesn’t feel quite right. you’re on high alert but you tentatively push open the heavy gold doors anyway, hand ready to grab the knife that’s resting snugly in your thigh holster.

what you’re not expecting is a lounge filled with balloons and a chorus of “surprise!”, so loud that your bones threaten to jump out of your skin.

the room has been decorated in all of your favorite colors, lights strung up everywhere and banners in bold letters that say happy birthday, y/n!, as well as all of your favorite people with beaming smiles on their faces. sam and bucky are standing with rhodey in the corner and as you stare at them disbelievingly, bucky just throws you a wink.

“wh-what,” you stutter, teary eyes round with confusion, “what the fuck?”

“happy birthday, angel,” a very familiar voice comes from behind you and you spin around to throw your arms around your boyfriend’s neck in glee.

“all this?” your voice is muffled in his shoulder. “for me?”

“all for you, baby,” steve murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “you didn’t think we’d actually forget, did you?”

“i- i mean,” you exhale, shaking your head, “maybe? i just didn’t know how important it was to you guys-”

“y/n,” he takes your face between his hands and stares at you solmenly, “you are the most important thing in my life-”

bucky clears his throat in protest but steve ignores him.

“-and i would be a fool not to celebrate you everyday. it really got me thinking when you told me that you’ve never had something big done for your birthday. you deserve something extravagant and over-the-top because you deserve to be appreciated every second of your life because you’re so loved by everyone here. are we clear?”

you can’t help but kiss the stupid lopsided smile off his face because you love this man more than you’ll ever be able to articulate. to give the two of you some privacy, everyone else has started drinking and dancing, speaking to their friends animatedly as they avert their eyes from you and steve’s private moment.

when steve slips his tongue in your mouth and his hands wander down to grab your ass, you moan into the kiss only to pull away seconds later, blinking up at him as you both try to catch your breaths.

“steve, we’re in a room full of people,” you remind him.

“then let’s get out of here,” he presses you into his front and you can feel the hardness of his cock against your stomach.

“but i haven’t said hi to anyone else yet,” you whine, not wanting to be rude.

“we’ll come back, baby,” he brushes his nose against the curve of your jaw. “just a couple minutes. you look so fuckin’ good right now i don’t know if i’ll be able to last any longer without getting my cock in that tight little-”

“steve!” you gasp, swatting his arm and then looking around to see if anybody’s heard him, but he just chuckles low in your ear, soft lips dropping kisses on your even softer skin.

“c’mon, doll,” his teeth catch on your earlobe and your bite your lower lip, contemplating whether or not you should give in to your horny boyfriend. “they won’t even notice we’re gone-”

“uh, we definitely will,” tony strolls over and butts in with a smirk on his lips and a drink in his hand. “happy birthday, babe.”

“thanks, tones,” you give him a one-armed hug because steve still won’t let go of you.

“your real present from me is over there,” he gestures vaguely to a huge pile of presents that makes your eyes go wide again, “but out of the kindness of my heart, i can also give you the gift of my wonderful storytelling so that people won’t notice that you guys have gone off to f-”

“thank you, tony!” you kiss his cheek quickly and proceed to drag steve towards a hallway that you assume leads to the bathrooms. you wave to your other friends briefly as you walk out, finding that the hallway you’ve gone down doesn’t lead to the bathroom, but rather a set of elevators. you and your boyfriend both pause, taking a minute to look at each other and you can almost see the lightbulb that pops over the both of your heads.

steve presses the up button and then his lips are on you, hands roaming your body eagerly against the closed doors of the elevator. slowly, his fingers travel underneath your clothes and start to massage your bare skin. you do the same, one hand gripping his hair and the other undoing the button to his slacks, shoving your hand into the band of his underwear desperately to palm at his manhood.

he hisses, stopping his assault on your body to throw his head back at the feeling of your deft fingers stroking him like that. you’re about to pull his lips towards yours again when you hear a chime and promptly stumble backwards, taking your supersoldier with you.

you cry out a laugh as you fall into each against the wall, drunk on desire and your adoration for the flustered man in front of you. chuckling, steve stabs the first button on the panel and is immediately kissing you again, tongue delving deep into your mouth as his large hand tightly grasps your jaw.

as the doors close and you start to move upwards, steve wedges one of this thick thighs in between your legs, pressing the muscle of his leg into your core.

“ride it, darlin’, c’mon,” he breathes into your ear, leaving wet kisses down your throat and framing your hips between his hands. you do as you’re told, pushing your hips down onto his thigh to get some friction to relieve the heat that’s building in your stomach.

“so good for me, that’s it sweetheart.”

it’s a quick ride to the top but with steve rutting against your hip with your hand down his pants and you against his leg with his fingers in your underwear dancing over your center, the two of you gradually push yourselves to a climax, almost there until there’s that same chime again. your boyfriend swiftly picks you up and you squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. his hands massage the globes of your ass as you walk across the roof, onto the edge of the balcony that overlooks the upper east side.

he rests you against the ledge and you keep one of your legs around him as he gets both of your clothes out of the way so that he can run the tip of his hard cock along your needy hole.

“shit, baby,” he spits right onto it, slapping his cock against your swollen skin, and you groan loudly, involuntarily clenching around nothing. “m’not gonna last.”

“neither am i,” you reassure him. “please steve, i need it.”

“i’ve got you, doll.”

he doesn’t say anything else because his eyes are glued at the mesmerizing way that his bulbous tip gets swallowed by your tight entrance. he rocks his hips back and forth, burying himself deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out with a loud moan.

there are tears in your eyes from how good it feels; the open air on your nipples and the fact that someone could see you like this, vulnerable and open with a cock buried deep inside you, makes you shudder, trails of water spilling onto your cheeks.

“oh my god, sweetheart,” steve murmurs reverently. usually he takes a minute to let you adjust to his size, but the two of you are so close that he just goes for it, the sound of your lovemaking echoing into the night sky.

“yes, yes- fuck, steve, please,” you blink up at him and he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears off your face, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks.

“i know, baby, i know,” he reassures you, his own skin slick and cool in the evening air as he continues to drive into you relentlessly. you ignore how uncomfortable the exposed stone on your naked body is because you’re almost there and you know he is too.

“m’gonna come, honey,” he tells you, hands coming up to pinch your nipples at the same time he bites into your neck. “you gonna let me come in you? give you my birthday present?”

you can barely speak, babbling incoherently as your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head but you nod eagerly, nails digging into his back as he uses you to chase his orgasm.

“come for me, baby - c’mon, milk my cock, s’all yours.”

his words push you over the edge, your entire body convulsing as your breath is snatched from your lungs. you contract around his length and he stills entirely as he spills his release into you, the guttaral moan that leaves his chest raw and animalistic.

“fuck,” he drawls as he presses his forehead against yours.

“right?” you agree, looking right into his pretty eyes, brighter than the lights behind you.

he presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“happy birthday, baby.”

“thank you,” you kiss the corner of his mouth and run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “i love you.”

as his chin rests on your shoulder, you take a minute to appreciate how thoughtful the big blonde man in your arms and you don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone this much in your life.

“can we do this every birthday?”

you laugh at his suggestion and tug lightly on his hair, heart about to explode from adoration.

“sure we can.”

“hey, lovebirds!” tony’s voice makes the two of you jump in surprise. “i’m not gonna turn the corner because i know for a fact that you’re not wearing any clothes, but i should definitely warn you that bucky and sam are on their way up with their phones... so unless you want a pornhub feature, i’d haul ass and get back downstairs if i were you. happy birthday, y/n!”

you both look at each other and then the mess that is your pile of clothes, and in unison you both realize that you’re fucked either way. but you know that it’s worth it since you’ve had the best birthday surprise ever, but you still don’t know how much steve is gonna love having his ass on display for his best friends.

“y/n! stevie! wh- oh fuck, are you kidding me?!”

that’s bucky, sounding traumatized as he sees the two of you stark naked.

“wh- damn, i didn’t expect you guys to actually be fuckin’.”

sam sounds genuinely shocked but simultaneously looks impressed. you close your eyes in amused mortification because steve’s body is shielding yours entirely and now, sam and bucky have a full view of his pale backside.

“guys,” he groans, blood rushing to his cheeks.

a flash goes off and steve cries out in protest. you laugh in disbelief, staring at bucky holding his phone up with a grin.

“happy birthday, y/n.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers drabbles #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers blurbs #requests

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txmel · 5 years ago

Text

Storytime

Sami Malek x Reader, Uncle Rami

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: A few swear words, but really just fun fluff

Summary: Rami is about to face his most challenging role yet...being a guest reader for his nephew's Kindergarten class.

Sami and you had an appointment with the doctor, so Rami, being the amazing uncle he is, offered to pick Femi up from school.

You and Sami were over the moon when you discovered your son would be having a baby brother and making your family of 3, a family of 4. Sami, Jasmine, and Rami were as close as siblings could be, and both of you wanted Femi to have a relationship like that as well. And in just a few short months, he would have that.

When you walked in the door, both of you were verbally and playfully suggesting and crossing off a list of baby names. You were both so deep into the conversation that you didn’t notice the scene before you, but then you heard it. Your conversation was interrupted by an excited Femi, with his head full of dark curls, already bouncing off the walls. His green eyes larger than normal and when he saw his dad, Femi immediately ran and jumped into Sami’s arms. He was talking so fast and loud, you and your husband could hardly understand what he was saying. The only words you could both catch were: “Uncle Ra-ra”, “book”, and something about his friends. He then pointed to the couch.

His Uncle Rami sat there and looked like his face had lost some color and you swore he was ready to pass out. You took Femi to his room to play and when you returned, you saw Rami with a glass of water on his right and Sami on his left. For some reason, Sami was almost always on his left. It had been like that since they were little.

"Geez Rami, what happened?”, your voice legitimately full of concern.

“Well, when I picked Fem up from school, his teacher came over to me and thanked me.” He took a shaky breath. “She had shown the kids ‘The Empty Pot’. Femi began bragging that I was his uncle and that I would come and read a book to his class next week. Y/N, Sam, I couldn’t say ‘no’. You should have seen the way his face lit up and I didn’t want to let him down.” When it came to his nephew, "no" wasn't in Rami's vocabulary.

Rami placed his head in his hands. "Oh shit, I don't know what to do. I don't even know where to start with reading a book to a room full of 5 and 6-year olds staring at and judging me. Fuck."

Sami gently placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. In times of crisis, you knew they could always count on each other. With his brow creased, you saw Sami searching for words to bring comfort to his older twin. He took a deep breath before he began: "Well, I wouldn't start off with that. You might make a bad first impression.”

You could not facepalm yourself hard enough.

When you saw him snickering, you shot Sami a look and he knows he's in for it. Your husband knew not to test the patience of your pregnancy hormones. But sometimes he was such a smartass. He just couldn’t help it.

You knew you were overreacting, but it didn't matter. It was too late for the both of you. Your hormones had taken hold and they were on overdrive. Grabbing Sami by his arm, you dragged him into the kitchen.

"Sam, I swear to God, if you don't go out there and help your brother, do you know what's going to happen?".

"Y/N, are you actually going to call my mom? Really? I'm 38 years old and technically the baby of the family. I can talk my way out of anything, especially this", he scoffed.

"Oh no. You're only going to wish I had called her." You looked him square in the eye as your hormones continued their adventurous rant. "No, something much, much worse."

A smirk ran across your face as confusion washed over his. Then from 0-60, his facial expression went from cockiness to fright as the realization hit him like a freight train. Sami knew what was coming. You were right, he really did wish you would call his mother.

"You know Femi's class field trip next month? To the zoo?". You knew at that point you had his full attention.

"You wouldn't."

"Go in there and help him or your name is going on the volunteer sign-up list."

_______________

As you drove Rami to Sami and Femi's school, you looked to the right and observed Rami's demeanor. He sat quietly, gripping his nephew's favorite book. His Uncle Rami was the only person Femi would allow to read it to him because he was the only one who could bring perfection to the story. His skills as an award-winning actor brought immense life to anything he read. And because it was Femi's favorite, no one could bring perfection to it like he could.

You noticed the book shaking slightly, as a result of his leg's nervous reaction.

You didn't understand what made him so anxious. Rami was so calm and collected at the Oscars. He was so confident when he spoke in rooms with countless numbers of people. And he even dealt with critic's opinions with grace and dignity, whether they were positive or not. But you weren't going to ask why this situation in particular hit him so hard.

Parking the car at the front of the school, Rami ran over to the driver's side before you could even undo your seat belt. He opened the door and helped you and your rounded baby bump out of the car.

You gave the front office the proper I.D., even though they already knew who you were. You could have sworn you saw the secretary blush as she handed Rami back his I.D. and stutter as she responded to his "thank you" and "have a nice day".

You walked into the classroom and you saw Rami's nervousness begin to dissipate slightly when his nephew ran to and gave him a tight hug. Femi dragged him to the carpet where his friends were sitting, anxiously awaiting one of their favorite storytellers.

Sami walked into the room before the teacher announced Rami and his hand gravitated immediately towards yours. Thankfully, someone was able to cover his class. You leaned your head on his shoulder and he pulled you closer.

After the teacher announced their class' special guest, Rami gave a small wave and a soft "Hi boys and girls." He sat down in the chair and Sami placed a kiss on the top of your head.

Rami and Sami's eyes connected. With a silent nod of his head signaling "you got this", Rami nodded back and began.

As soon as his voice began emitting the words on the first page, his confidence was completely there. When he got to certain parts of the story, the childrens' giggles turned into roaring laughter. You and Sami began to laugh too, even though you had heard the story countless times. Rami brought such life to the story, and you understood why this was Femi's favorite book for him to read. The story didn't have pictures in it, but Rami wouldn't need them anyway.

Rami was Femi's favorite storyteller, and as you rubbed your belly, you knew Rami would be your baby's too.

And as Rami's young audience continued to be captivated by his words, Sami leaned over and quietly said: "Ana uhibbuki, Y/N. You can sign me up for the field trip next month."

You heard a low, rumbling laughter coming as you said: "I love you too, Sami. And don’t worry, I signed you up last week."

@sherlollydramoine @xmxisxforxmaybe @r-ahh-mi @diasimar @sassystrawberryk

Here is the book Rami reads in the story. If you're an elementary teacher or have kids, I highly recommend it!

#rami malek #sami malek x reader #sami x reader #sami malek #sami malek fluff #uncle!rami

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smallerinfinities · 5 years ago

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Closer (Vampire!Shawn)

a/n: Oh, hey! Long time, no see! This idea came to me out of nowhere. Hit me like a freight train. I made this edit and it nearly killed me so I had to write this. The title comes from the Kings of Leon song, HIGHLY recommend checking it out before or after reading this. It’s always given me vampire vibes. ANYWAYS, here’s a little Vampire!Shawn for you...I’m kind of obsessed with it.

warnings: 6.1k (WHAAAAT?!) of vampire content, smut, blood, the works

It was long past midnight and the streets were quiet. Even in New York City there was an hour, usually between three and four in the morning, where hardly anything moved. It was his favorite time to take a walk, especially now when his dry veins ached. Shawn stalked up 7th Ave, away from his townhouse on St. Lukes Place, and whistled softly to himself.

In these quiet moments, he remembered the city as it was, decades and decades ago, filled with far fewer people and much more debauchery. He let the old sounds of memories long faded fill his ears, raucous laughter and tap, tapping of horseshoes on stone. The opening and closing of club doors that poured a cacophony of jazz music into the street. The acrid smell of bodies and saltwater, cigarette smoke and too sweet perfume, crept into his nose. Scott and Zelda laughed as they walked on either side of him, Duke Ellington humming along behind, making their way to Broadway to see Josephine in her last show before she moved to France.

Josephine. Shawn paused along the deserted avenue and closed his eyes. God, he missed her. Passionate, committed, righteous...he could taste it all in her blood. The fire in her veins had reddened his eyes on so many occasions in those days. Iron mixed with prohibition whiskey. A shiver ran through his body as his canines lengthened. He ran his tongue along their sharp, defined points. Feeling the warm metallic tang of his own blood trickle down his throat, he relived the sensation but felt no relief from his craving.

Six weeks. It had been six weeks since he’d tasted human blood. Her blood. A day hadn’t passed that he didn't think about that night, the sticky mid-July humidity clinging to his cool skin hours after sunset….

The Trinity. The neon sign flashed outside above the bar. Shawn had always laughed at the name, the obvious religious connotations. It was a vampire bar after all. Run by two vampires who once served wine to King Henry VIII, the bar had settled in the West Village almost a hundred years ago. It changed names, the owners changed identities, but the clientele remained cold and thirsty all the same. The Trinity was low-key but exclusive, a semi-dive bar with a bouncer out front, hilariously named Vlad, a massive Russian man with fists the size of a normal man’s head. Shawn flashed his red eyes at him, the only membership card he needed to gain entry.

“Meat is scarce,” Shawn heard him mumble. He winced at the euphemism. Meat just meant live bodies, humans who had come willingly to the bar as potential sources of blood. At Trinity, humans received a card that allowed them entry once every three weeks. For vampires, it was the best way to keep the blood supply fresh and undiluted. For humans, it was a status symbol, an underground and privileged one. But it also meant that some nights were slower than others, especially after events and holidays.

Some vampires were less appreciative of human life than others. They saw The Trinity as a trap, an easy way to catch prey. Willing sources were so scarce that vampires often lost control and bled them dry, whether they meant to or not. Shawn was a little less macabre. He was old enough to appreciate the fragility of humans, old enough to taste the subtle differences in blood quality. Humans allowed into Trinity passed a blood test, so he felt they were best kept alive. He couldn’t find a drug and disease-free meal just anywhere. Yes, he fed here. It was like Whole Foods and real-life Tinder all in one place.

He took a seat at the bar, nodding over to a group of younglings, a little too feral to be trusted. A thick cloud of smoke poured over him from the corner, choking Shawn’s sensitive sense of smell. He coughed and waved it away, revealing a familiar old woman in the corner with gleaming red eyes and long white hair. She took a long pull from her six-inch cigarette holder and blew another cloud of smoke at him, obscuring her very vintage 1820s corset.

“Bonjour, Shawn,” she said at the end of her exhale.

“Madame LaLaurie,” he waved a hand to greet her, trying not to make a face of abject revulsion at the red drops falling from her chin. Propriety was not a concept familiar to the old ones. Neither was blending in. Her costume froze her in time. Shawn looked down at his own black jeans and red short sleeve button up, a pair of chelsea boots on his feet. He was thankful that he’d been able to live—well, approximate living—over the years instead of calcifying, turning into an undead corpse refusing to move with the passing years. Dropping his head, he tried to shake the image out despite the smoke still curling in the air.

A whiskey sour, his usual, appeared like magic in front of him. Not actual magic–witches weren’t allowed here–but out of the hand of John Somerset, co-owner and purveyor of The Trinity.

“Shawn,” he nodded, his London lilt still clinging to his accent more than a century after leaving England, “it’s a slow night.” Shawn turned over his shoulder and squinted in the low light. The room was large, the size of a small warehouse, with several alcoves and nooks for privacy. Maybe twenty people milled about, some eyes flashing red, usually paired with a brown or blue or green eyed man or woman. One of them, a vampire with ginger hair and small features, wandered up to the bar with a young man, perhaps just recently legal. The vampire’s long white fingers wrapped around the boy’s hip. John’s eyes narrowed over the counter.

“Kit,” he addressed the vampire in a low voice, “be careful with the young ones.”

“Oh, John, worry not!” Kit’s grip on the boy visibly tightened. He turned to his companion and nuzzled his nose, drawing a laugh from him, “Tyler and I are just fine!” And so Tyler seemed to be, his rosy cheek pressed to Kit’s shoulder, intermittently turning to press wet kisses to his neck. It was a familiar sight. Kit Marlowe was a notorious letch, but he wasn’t much of a killer. Young Tyler was likely not in any danger, but John Somerset protected his bar as if it were his child. No foul play allowed.

Shawn slipped off his bar stool, leaving John to harass Kit. Wandering around the red-tinged room, he nursed his whiskey sour and took stock of the options in the room. He lifted his nose and closed his eyes. In one corner, the strong smell of nicotine and vaping liquid overpowered any unique notes he could have made out in blood. He moved on, scrunching his nose. There were a lot of masculine scents, pachouli, leather, amber, bergamot, and while Shawn didn’t discriminate based on gender–a man could be fun if he was looking to dominate–tonight he craved something a little more delicate.

A hand grazed his shoulder and he turned, startled, bowed and ready to attack.

“How dare y—”

A wall of warm jasmine and citrus crashed into him. It disarmed him, turning his limbs into rubber. She smelled like summer sun, or at least, what he imagined summer sun to smell like. He’d forgotten some time around the beginning of the Wars of the Roses, a hundred years after he’d last felt sunlight. He leaned into her palm, still resting on his shoulder.

“Open your eyes,” she whispered, her breath gliding across his face adding a touch of mint to her bouquet. He hadn’t realized they were still closed. He squinted, adjusting to the harsh red lights again, and looked down at her.

At first, all he could see was white. She was wearing white from head to toe. A white sheer top over a white lace bra, white pants with little tears in the knees, white pumps. The red on the sole of her shoes was the only pop of color. Her clothes fit perfectly around her curves, the cleavage she let show leading his eye to her long neck and the pulse point there, fluttering with her beating heart. Even with all that confidence, she couldn’t hide the rush of coming face to face with time itself. She was a mortal angel looking for trouble in this hellish pit.

After the initial shock, his eyes caught hers. They glowed in the low light, twinkling his own reflection back at him. She was close, close enough that he could see each individual pore on her face, unencumbered by makeup. Her skin was beautiful, taut over her cheekbones and flushed with all that sweet smelling blood. His mouth watered a little and his eyes lost focus as he took another deep inhale. He felt that tell-tale lengthening in his mouth with a shiver. He was so...hungry.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, vampires kept time in decades and centuries not minutes and hours, but he sensed her every movement. Her feet shifted; her heart pounded; her hands flexed and relaxed. He smiled and felt her heart pick up speed, taking her hand and turning it over in his palm to trace the blue maze of veins in her wrist.

“You’ve never been here, never done this before, have you?”

“How did you—?” She ripped her hand away from him, a proud tilt to her head, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, you might,” he chuckled under his breath, tracing a cold finger down her cheek, satisfied at the gooseflesh that bloomed where he touched. “You’re certainly sure of yourself. It’s rare a human catches me unaware. How did you do that?”

“I think you were looking for someone,” the corner of his mouth upturned at her words, I was looking for you, “but I don’t usually hesitate when I see something I want.” She was so confident, he didn’t even think it was false bravado. Just pure adrenaline. He’d never met anything like her.

“So, hello,” she stuck her hand out formally, like she hadn’t already wrapped him around her fingers, like he hadn’t already made a place for her in his bed, and told him her name.

“I’m Shawn,” smiling, he took her hand and shook it, careful to control his grip and not hurt her. They stood there like that, hands clasped together, for a moment. It was long enough for Shawn to feel her skin under his fingertips and wonder if her whole body was like that, soft and firm and vibrating with energy, with so much blood. Her heartbeat rang in his ears, loud and clear as if his own heart had come back to life.

She reached up and pushed a fallen curl out of his face, “do you wanna dance?”

“I….don’t dance,” he shuffled nervously, all his smug self-assuredness gone in a second. Centuries and cat-like reflexes hadn’t improved his shoddy dancing skills and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his future meal.

“Oh, come on,” she grabbed at his hand and pulled, “everyone dances a little, even stuffy vampires.” He followed her, let her pull him onto the world’s smallest dance floor in front of a certified vintage jukebox. The Gershwins poured through the old speakers, sounding more like a gramophone than anything nearing modern audio quality. She yanked his arms about in a makeshift attempt at the Charleston, kicking her legs out at weird angles. He could tell that she could move, she just had never moved in the 20s in front of a big band.

“Okay, okay,” he caught her hips and stilled them, “that’s not bad, but it’s not the Charleston either.” He showed her how to rotate her ankles and add her arms, eventually just taking her hands and moving with her forward and backward, swinging his awkward legs around.

“See! You can dance!” she held onto his arms and stepped back and forth with him, “were you alive in the 20s?”

“Ahem, alive?” he grinned, “no, I wasn’t alive...but I was pulled onto many dance floors in this city to do the Charleston in the 20s.” Her eyes blew wide, the first truly human reaction he’d seen from her.

“So...how old are you?” she had stopped moving, too shocked and curious to concentrate on the dance.

“That’s a rude question!” He faked indignance, slapping his palm to his chest. She snorted, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out to the side.

“If I’m going to let you drink my blood, you could at least tell me how old you are!” His mouth fell open. The unspoken arrangement between vampires and humans at The Trinity was just that—unspoken. He’d been coming here for decades and no one had ever been so bold. He tried to think back to the last human who had ever demanded something of him, especially something so sacred as his age, and was coming up blank. She was serious. Moxie, they used to call it. She was overflowing with it.

Fuck it. His sigh would have been more dramatic if his chest still moved with his breath.

“I was born,” he took a deep bow, his curls flopping forward toward the floor, “in the year of our Lord 1322.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. He watched as she did the quick math, the cogs spinning behind her eyes as they grew wider with the realization that he was—

“Seven hundred.” She wavered and he stepped forward to steady her, let her lean into his side and breathe through the shock. She looked up at him and reached for his face, but he caught her hand first and held it to his chest.

“Well, I'm 697. The big 7-0-0 is a few years away.” He grinned, his fangs just peeking out from behind his cold lips. If he could blush, he would have in that moment. With her proximity came another wave of jasmine, mixed with something else, something much more feminine and earthy. He leaned down and touched his nose to her jawline, grazing it slightly and inhaling deep. It was heady. He could tell she felt it too. Her head tipped back and invited him in. His body stirred in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

In another, more feral, life, he would have taken her right there.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he panted, a memory of humanity rather than a need for breath. She released the tension in her body, having braced for the bite he wasn’t ready to give.

“Jesus fuck, yes,” she nodded. He wondered how long she’d been waiting for him to ask. If he had to bet, he’d say before she even laid a hand on him. They gathered their phones, checked at the door, and headed to the street.

“Excuse me, miss!” Vlad called as they passed. He locked eyes with Shawn, “sorry, Shawn, you know it’s protocol.” Shawn shrugged and nodded, presenting her to him.

“Hello, miss, I just need to make sure you’ve consented to leave with him,” he focused on her neck, at the pulse beating loud and clear there, an almost foolproof lie detector test.

“Yes, I agreed to leave with him,” she looked back at Shawn, steady as a rock, and he nodded, bracing for the next bit. The bit that caused panic in the faint of heart and had lost him many an evening meal.

“And you understand that The Trinity is absolved of any liability for any injury that might befall you after you leave here.” Shawn heard her heart kick up a little but she stood her ground, swallowing loud.

“Yes, I understand.” She nodded, holding out her hand to shake on it. Vlad’s eyes lit up with amusement, taking her hand in his much larger one and shaking. Apparently her charm worked on even the most sullen of bouncers.

“Okay, miss. You’re good to go. Have a good evening,” he tipped his head and glanced past her shoulder at Shawn, “take good care of this one.” Shawn gave him a two-finger salute.

“See you, Vlad!” She waved cheerfully, grabbing Shawn’s hand and rushing into the night. He hailed a cab, impatient to get back across town. It was late and he wanted to enjoy the rest of the night, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to want it to end.

When the cab pulled up to his six-story Greenwich Village brownstone, he was tracing patterns on her knee, the rip in her jeans the only skin available to him. She looked out the window, letting out a giggle before slapping her hand over her mouth.

“You have to be fucking joking,” she crawled out of the cab, the tiniest clutch he’d ever seen in her hand. She let him lead her up the steps to his door, her neck craned all the way back to look up.

He let her inside and shut the door, their shoes echoing off the cool black and white tile. He’d watched this house be built in the 1850s, had snatched it off the market then and there. Over the years, he’d moved around. Europe, Asia, Canada, but he always came back here. His best memories were in this city, so he called this house home.

It was covered in relics from the past. A savonarola chair from the 16th century in the corner. An original Thomas Gainsborough portrait of himself hanging in the entryway. A suit of armor, the one he was wearing when he began this new life after death, stood at the top of the stairs. He turned and watched her study the portrait.

It was provocative for the time. Shawn had foregone a powder wig in favor of his curls, wild and unkempt in a halo around his chiseled face. It had been a challenge for Thomas, so used to the round and cherubic faces of the time, his brushstrokes not suited for a man with so many angles. She looked back at him and pointed, raising her brow, and he nodded.

“Yes, Thomas made me sit for hours upon hours for that,” he moved to stand behind her, his hands busying themselves along her ribs, “thank God it made it through the Blitz.” She leaned back into him, becoming breathless at his ministrations. His fingers pulled at her sheer top, freeing it from her jeans to allow his hands underneath against the bare skin of her stomach.

“Your hands are so cold,” she gasped. He brought his lips to her neck, leaving a trail of chaste kisses along her carotid.

“I know a way,” he traced the artery with his tongue, “to warm them up.”

“Oh?” She pushed her hair over her other shoulder to expose more of her long neck to him. He smiled against her skin and turned her to face him. God, she was beautiful, so fucking full of life. Had there ever been anyone who stirred him like this? He lifted her from underneath her thighs, wrapping her legs around him.

“Not here,” he nipped at her jaw, enjoying the squeak that left her in surprise, “no one bleeds in my entryway.” He carried her up the stairs, never panting, never stumbling. Even without his eyes as a physical marker of his Otherness, no one living could watch him and not know he wasn’t exactly human. He’d been vampire for so long now that it was all he knew.

They watched each other with every flight he climbed, eyes locked. His pupils were blown wide, anticipating the coming high. She pushed her hair out of her face and bit her lip, the only outward sign of nervousness he’d seen. When they reached his bedroom, spanning a whole floor of the house, her heart was pounding against his chest. He pressed her against the wall, still holding eye contact.

He finally broke away to lay his head against her chest. The sound of her heartbeat consumed him. Her skin burned his cheek. His fangs ached. He felt the rhythmic pumping of blood course through her body, around his neck in her wrists, around his waist in her thighs, and lower as she slid down on the wall and he pressed his cock to her pulsing heat. A growl escaped him, deep and animalistic.

He couldn’t find her mouth fast enough.

Their mouths collided, teeth and tongues, harsh breath and feral moans. He sucked her citrus-soaked breath into his lungs, drunk on her scent. She slid her fingers into his hair at the nape and guided him deeper into her mouth. She sucked on his lower lip, dangerously close to his exposed fangs. Biting gently, she pulled a groan from him. He backed away from her, letting her legs fall from around his waist. She tried to catch her breath, hands braced behind her against the wall.

The air between them crackled with opposing energy, hot and cold, alive and dead, predator and prey. When they collided again it was desperate, a labyrinth of hands and arms and legs tearing off clothing. She popped most of the buttons on his shirt trying to get it off. He accidentally ripped two more holes in her jeans trying to force them down her legs. With each barrier removed, more skin was revealed. Neither of them could stop touching, the urgency overwhelming them. Her skin was butter soft, even under his sensitive fingertips. If he could burn, he thought her hands might be leaving hot welts on his skin. Both in their underwear and nothing else, Shawn stepped back, perching himself on the edge of his massive bed.

“Come,” he beckoned. She stalked toward him, her perfect breasts bouncing with each step. He bit back a whimper. There hadn’t been a woman in his bed in years. He had almost forgotten what perfect creatures they were, all curves and softness, warmth and femininity. Reaching out, he pulled her thighs toward him. She straddled his lap, knees planted in the plush crimson red duvet. He cupped her face with his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones .

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he looked at her unblinking, letting her have all the time she needed to be sure. “If you want, you can get dressed and leave right now and never see me again.”

“No!” she cried, digging her nails into his sides like he was the one preparing to flee, “I mean I’m sure. I don’t want to leave.” She scratched at his cold skin, a soothing gesture. He pressed a kiss to the valley between her breasts, right above her heart. He let it beat against his lips, feeling the pebbled gooseflesh bloom on her skin, slowly trailing upward toward her neck. Her breathing was ragged, audible in the quiet of the room. She weaved her hands into his curls, tugging them impatiently. Smiling against her skin, he finally reached that pulse point he’d picked out earlier in the entryway. He cradled her head to the side, exposing the vein in her neck, thick and throbbing. He inhaled, running his nose from her shoulder to her jaw. Her scent was so strong. The citrus exploded in notes of lemon and tangerine. He wondered if she tasted like it.

His fangs broke skin.

Blood burst from her. Two streams of thick, hot life poured into his mouth. He battened onto her neck and suckled, his eyes fluttering shut, softly moaning against her. Colors exploded behind his eyelids, a kaleidoscope of yellow and orange and white, lemon and tangerine and jasmine. His arms curled around her, pressing her into his chest, farther into his mouth. Her whole body was vibrating with the force of her moans, her hands in his hair like a vice grip.

Her blood was liquid fire in his mouth, burning him from the inside out. He could feel the warmth returning to his fingers, a rusty pulse beating in his calcified heart. It was a hollow imitation of what being human felt like, full of faded memories that came back to life in an instant and then died again. A woman with flowers woven into her hair, a pale blue shift clinging to her nervous frame. A battle raging in a war he didn’t choose to fight in. A priest praying in Latin over the lifeless body of an infant.

Shawn’s eyes flew open.

He released her, taking harsh gulps of air, his seldom used lungs brought back to temporary life. The unbidden memories dissipated as quickly as they had come, but they left him disoriented. He fell back against the mattress, his fingers trembling against her thighs on either side of him, and looked up at her.

Her head was thrown back, chest heaving like she’d run a marathon. He winced at her neck. The puncture wounds were neat, he wasn’t an animal fresh from the Quickening, but he’d left blood smeared on her shoulder. She was still bleeding, two crimson rivulets pooling at her collarbone.

A high tinkling laugh startled him. Her face was flushed with exhilaration, the adrenaline rush overpowering the blood loss. She leaned over, placing a hand on his bare chest.

“It’s beating!” she exclaimed, wonder and confusion swimming in her eyes. He blinked at her, bleary-eyed and unsure if he could open his mouth to speak.

“Only for a little while,” he scratched out, his throat still burning from her citrus-flavored blood, “it will fade in a day or so.”

“Then will you feed again?” she looked down at her fingers, scratching lightly through his thin dusting of chest hair.

“No,” he took one of her wrists and kissed it right where her pulse beat strongest, “I only feed once every few months. This feeling, the heartbeat, it can be addicting for my kind. I try to ration as long as I can to fight the craving.” He looked over at his curtained window, checking the time. It was still dark as pitch, plenty of time left in the night with her.

“What are those?” Her fingers touched the two freckle-like spots on his neck. He hissed. She looked at him, alarmed at the sound. Quick fear made her pupils retract into pinpricks, but they relaxed as soon as he reached up to cup her cheek.

“Shh, it’s not you; they’re just sore,” he stretched his neck to the side to give her a better view. “It’s my change mark, the impression left by the vampire that created me. When I feed it aches as the first day I received it.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this. It wasn’t like him to divulge personal details about his life to take-out from The Trinity. Then again, he didn’t usually take his meal home, either. There was just something about her...he couldn’t name it. He just knew he didn’t want her to go away.

She shifted on top of him, brushing his lap. His eyes widened. She was wet. So wet that he could feel it seeping through his own boxer briefs. He took a breath to steady himself, but that only brought him musky waves of her arousal. His hands grabbed at her hips to still her.

“I can smell you,” he moved underneath her, making sure she could feel him. He was painfully hard, straining underneath the two layers of thin fabric keeping him from feeling her, from losing control completely. She gasped, bracing herself against his chest and smiling, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“You could do something about that,” she teased, running her thumbs over his hard nipples. Everything was sensitive; everything was hard, his whole body teeming with energy and life after taking his fill of her. His need for nourishment had been satisfied, leaving him with a different kind of hunger, one he was sure she was feeling too. She fought his hold on her hips and ground down on his lap pointedly.

He flipped them, loving the sound of her squeak at his display of easy strength. Her hair spread out in a halo against his duvet, making her seem more angel than human. He ducked and pressed a kiss to her lips, a quick taste before he stood to rid himself of his underwear. She lifted herself up on her elbows to look at him, finally naked in front of her. Her eyes darkened in the way that only a human’s can, in that moment when they’re most animal.

“Are you coming?” She welcomed him between her legs, feet flat against his mattress and knees spread, her pretty white lace panties practically translucent against her soaking slit. He reached behind her to the bedside table and dug a condom out of the drawer.

“Not yet, but you will be soon,” he rolled it down his length. Her eyes rolled and she fell back against the bed, too turned on to be annoyed at his bad joke. He braced himself above her, leaning down to nuzzle the mark he’d left earlier, licking at the blood still clinging to her chest. It was cold, devoid of life but still rich with her taste. She mewled, lost somewhere between pleasure and pain. He pressed a final kiss to his bite, the tang of her blood still clinging to his lips.

“Shawn,” she clawed at his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her lips to his ear, “please.”

He growled, pushing inside to the hilt in one stroke. They both cried out, his head falling forward to mouth at her chest. She threaded her fingers into his hair to hold him, breathing through the stretch of him inside of her. With her arousal, the floral, fertile jasmine scent of her overwhelmed him. It rippled off of her, filling his bedroom. He slowly moved in and out, a lazy rhythm to prolong the closeness. He could have moved like that for hours, giving her just enough pleasure to keep her on edge but never sending her over. But she’d given him what he’d wanted, given him part of herself, shared what makes her alive to give him a fleeting glimpse of what that felt like again.

“Harder, baby,” she moaned. He bristled at the pet name, fucking her into the mattress harder, his hips colliding with hers over and over. They both panted profanities, her back arching and pushing her breasts into his chest. He took one of her nipples between his lips, flicking the hard bud with his tongue. The salty sweetness of her skin filled his mouth. She started to tremble beneath him, her arms clinging to his straining biceps.

“Shawn,” she looked him in the eye, her words punctuated by his relentless thrusting, “fuck...I want….you…to bite me again.”

He didn’t argue.

His fangs found a home just beneath her breast, her sweet blood, fragrant with her passion, erupted into his mouth. She screamed her release, pushing her body as far into him as she could, until he fell over the edge with her. He drank from her until they were both more blood than bone, until her limbs went limp and he couldn’t hold her up anymore. Images flickered in his memory, the same ones from before, the ones that usually made him gasp in the pain of dead memories, but he was so fully sated that they couldn’t touch him. He collapsed beside her, eyes closed and gasping for breath.

Her fingers traced his wet lips and slipped inside his mouth. They were covered in her blood. He turned to look at her as he sucked them clean and marveled at her hooded eyes, dark with the erotic sight before her. He released her fingers with a pop, swirling his tongue around the tips and smiling at the moan he elicited.

“That was…” she started.

“Incredible,” they both laughed.

Shawn crawled off the bed with unsteady legs. It was a drunk sort of walk, he hadn’t had human blood straight from the source in so long, hadn’t been fucked back to life in even longer. The intoxication was acute, the world a little more saturated and loud. He flipped the light on in his bathroom to grab a towel and discard the condom. Catching his reflection, he stopped quick. He’d almost forgotten what it looked like when he fed. His flushed complexion returned, rosy cheeks and chest colored with fresh blood under his skin. His chest moved, his heart pumping for the first time in six months. He’d gone so long without feeding this time. Too long.

He dabbed the towel at her shoulder and her breast, thankful for the enzymes in his mouth that quickened the healing. The blood around the bites had already coagulated, leaving a bit of a mess behind, but at least she had stopped bleeding. When all the excess blood was gone, she was left with four neat wounds, each smaller than the head of a pin.

“There. You might be sore for a couple of days but they should heal quickly,” Shawn instructed. She nodded, looking a little miffed about what to do next. It was the body’s natural instinct to fight or flee under the eyes of a predator, but he could tell she wanted to do neither.

“Do you…” he hesitated, he’d never done this before but he wasn’t ready to let her go yet, “do you want to sleep here? With me?”

She answered his question by burying herself in his sheets, all still pristine white underneath his red duvet. Not one drop of blood had spilled onto his bed. He crawled in after her, opening his arm to let her curl into his side.

“You really are warm now,” she wondered aloud, playing with his fingertips in between her own.

“All because of you,” he kissed the top of her head, an intimate gesture, but no more intimate than claiming her blood for his own, “now sleep.”

So they slept. He slept hard, his body surrendering to real rest for the first time in months. The dreams that usually plagued him after feeding were absent. His old life, his human life, didn’t come back to haunt him. His wife, his child, the wars he’d waged for men with too much power and no care for human life, all stayed dead. She chased it all away with her warmth and her jasmine scent and her citrus blood.

He didn’t know if it was hours or days later when he woke up to an empty house, her scent still desperately clinging to his sheets. All he knew was that she was gone and all he had was her name.

Lost in thought, in the memory of her, he found himself in front of The Trinity. He’d come here a couple of times, looking, hoping to see her again, but he’d given up. It wasn’t usual for him to ever revisit a human twice. In fact, he could only name a handful of women he’d had more than once. But she wasn’t coming back. He’d thought back on that night so many times and thought of all the things he could have done wrong, but in truth, he was a vampire and sometimes that was enough. He was too old, too mature to let a human consume him like this.

Vlad waved him in and he sat in his usual place at the bar nursing his usual whiskey sour. John chattered about some event he was hosting. Some kind of political thing, Alex Hamilton was expected to show. Shawn really hated him. Still a fucking hot head like he was in life. It had only gotten worse since the musical. If only people knew how many times the real A. Ham had been in the audience.

It was near closing time when John decided to shut up about vampire politics and let Shawn sulk in peace and quiet. He’d been so careful the last decade to temper his thirst. He went longer and longer and longer between feedings, meticulous about who he fed on and where. No personal life, no invitations, no sex.

She’d broken all his rules and then she’d just left him. It was just one night. One night that he’d never forget. He sighed, slumping over his third whiskey sour and hoping that tomorrow he’d be less pitiful. He needed to call it a night. Nodding at John, he laid down some cash and slid off his barstool.

Fingers grazed his change mark. He jumped near out of his skin, whipping around only to be knocked over by the familiar floral and citrus that he’d been looking for.

It was her.

“Shawn?”

*****

I mean like....I have to continue this, right?

(btw, his brownstone townhouse is a real place on the market for a cool $20 million rn)

permanent taglist: @justanotherfangurl272 @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @rodneywaber @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @the-claire-bitch-project @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280 @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @hi-my-name-is-sid @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes au #shawn peter raul mendes #vampire!shawn #my writing

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ellewritesfix05 · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Sea

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas, Marlin, Dory, Crush, Squirt, Fluke, OFC Oliver

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Weird shenanigans (I guess?) This is fairly PG

A/N: This fic is written as my submission for @deanwanddamons and @impala-dreamer ‘s “I Do Understand That Reference” Challenge. It was super fun and quite challenging to write but I sure hope y’all like it!

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

Dean opened his eyes slowly, head throbbing with the sound of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. As his eyesight regained focus, Dean noticed that he was surrounded by what seemed to be brightly colored trees. Except these trees were moving - no, swaying.

Even though it was somewhat dark, he could see light streaks around him, almost as if there was a plastic film across his eyes. Confused, Dean tried to get up from the cold, bumpy surface upon which he found himself only to fall sideways as his legs gave way to a gentle, wave-like motion underneath him. He looked down at his feet only to find that they weren’t there. In fact, Dean could see no body parts at all. Patting himself down, Dean realized that his body felt quite round and slimy, a feeling that reminded him of days off at the lake, fishing with Sam. Eyes widened in realization, Dean looked down at his hands only to see two large orange fins staring back at him. He flapped them around frantically, suddenly propelled off the hard floor.

Dean looked to his surroundings once more, the swaying anemones and brightly colored corals confirming his feared suspicion.

A fish; somehow, somewhere, Dean had been turned into a fish.

24 hours earlier

“I don’t know, Sam. This feels too clean to be witches, we haven’t found any hex bags and the vic isn’t spewing gross bodily fluids,” said Dean, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“True, but what else can make a person stuff themselves with popcorn to death? It’s not like famine is back, and even if it was, we have his ring. No way he could do something like this without it,” replied Sam, “Maybe we missed something, why don’t we go back to the theater tonight, it’ll be less crowded so we can do a better hex bag sweep.”

“Fine, but I still don’t think it’s witches,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Later that night, the brothers headed down to the local movie theater where the security guard had been found dead, belly full of popcorn. Upon arrival, they got out of the Impala, Dean still muttering about his disbelief in witches being to blame for the guard’s death. Walking across the street to the neon-lighted entrance, Sam and Dean looked around the vicinity in search of any unusual activity. Sam stopped in his tracks and motioned at Dean towards a dark figure entering the theater from a side door. Quickly, the brothers headed to the door, glancing around to make sure no one saw them. Once inside, they split ways to each take a row of auditoriums looking for the mysterious individual that had snuck into the building before them, Dean taking the rooms to the right while Sam checked the rooms to the left.

A soft whistle caught Dean’s attention. He turned around to see his little brother pointing at the entrance of an auditorium adorned with a light blue frame, signaling the movie showing as Finding Nemo. Dean rolled his eyes and walked over to Sam, both entering the room as inconspicuous as possible to avoid attracting attention from the scattered crowd inside. As they walked down the dimly-lit aisle, Sam touched Dean’s arm and pointed at a person in the very front row, doubled over the seat as if holding on to their stomach. The brothers approached the figure slowly, not wanting to give away their presence when a bright blue flash illuminated the entire auditorium. Sam and Dean covered their eyes with their arms, a cold wetness overtaking them being the last thing they felt.

Present time

Coming to terms with his predicament, Dean flapped his fins gently to propel himself forwards, finding Sam the only goal in mind.

“Sam!” Dean hollered, “Sammy!”

He swam his way past the anemones and corals, following the strange rock beneath him until he came to a large blue emptiness just past the cliff created by the far end of the rock.

“Dean?” said a squeaky voice behind him, “Dean, is that you?”

Dean turned around to see a small clownfish staring back at him, “Sammy? Why do you sound like that?”

“Why do I sound like what? Dean, what the hell is going on?” said the tiny fish.

“I think you were right. I think the dude in the theater was a freakin’ witch and it looks like we’ve been turned into fish. And your voice dude, you sound like a scared mouse,” replied Dean.

“Have you heard yours, Louis Armstrong?” said clownfish-Sam in a sassy tone.

“What? My voice is fine. Whatever, how the hell are we supposed to get out of… whatever this is?”

“Honestly? No idea, but I might know where to-” Sam stopped suddenly as the sea around them turned pink, large creatures with long, slimy tentacles surrounding them completely.

“Are those…” Dean started.

“Jellyfish,” confirmed Sam. They turned around, backs to each other, taking in the gravity of the situation. Dean reached out behind him, gently pulling a much smaller Sam under his fin to protect him from the deadly stingers.

Frantically looking around to find a way out, Dean saw a flash of blue and orange to his right. Faint sounds of a conversation alerted him to the fact that they were not alone in the jellyfish forest.

“Boing! Boing, boing, boing!” sang a quirky, yet familiar, voice.

“Dory!” said the accompanying raspy voice.

Dory? Dean thought to himself, realization hitting him like a freight train.

“Sam… I think we’re in Finding Nemo,” Dean whispered. Coming out from under his fin, Sam looked up to his brother in confusion.

“What? Dean, this isn’t the time for your crappy jokes. We’re going to die stung by jellyfish!”

“Shh.. listen!” said Dean, placing a fin over Sam’s mouth. Swallowing his protest, Sam focused on the sounds around him and heard the voices his brother was talking about.

“‘Cause you’re about to eat my bubbles!” someone yelled in the distance.

“Sam, there’s no time to explain. Just trust me on this; I need you to follow me, hop on the tops of the jellyfish and avoid the tentacles at all costs, got it?” Dean ordered his little brother.

Sam nodded, and Dean twirled to face the direction in which they had seen the other clownfish zoom past. Taking a deep breath, Dean looked back at his brother one last time before propelling himself toward the top of the jellyfish in front of them. Bouncing off the soft, spongy surface Dean jumped forward, closely followed by Sam. From one jellyfish to the next, fear of electrocution pushed to the back of their minds, Sam and Dean hopped towards the edge of the jellyfish forest. Although they had started slowly, trying to avoid the tentacles, the brothers soon found themselves zooming past the pink creatures, laughter emanating from their gills as panic turned to thrill, feeling like children in a bouncy castle.

Before they realized, the brothers were out of the forest, wide smiles on their faces as they took in large gulps of sea water in relief. Coming down from an adrenaline high, Dean looked to his surroundings hoping to see the fish they had heard earlier. He felt Sam’s small fin touch his own and turned around to see him looking up astonished. Dean followed Sam’s gaze and saw a large current, although that was clearly not what had caught his little brother’s attention. In fact, Sam was focused on the hundreds of sea turtles the current was carrying. Dashing past at impossible speeds, the turtles smiled and waved at the brothers; some seeming as big as space shuttles in comparison to their own measly clownfish sizes.

Snapping out of the shock and awe at the view, Dean looked down to see a rock formation peppered with sea cucumbers and other small sea creatures. He was about to suggest following the turtles’ path to Sam when a deep voice coming from the rock formation caught their attention.

“Dean? Sam? Is that you?” said familiarly gravelly voice.

“Cas?” both brothers replied, looking for the source of the questions.

“Yes. I’m down here,” said Cas. Sam and Dean swam down towards the rock, looking for their friend, “Not that way, over here to your right”

The brothers stopped in their tracks when they found their friend, disbelief in their faces.

“Cas? Uh, are you a clam?” Sam asked the old, rusty-looking creature in front of them.

“Uh, I suppose I am. I cannot see myself in this form,” said the clam, jaws opening and closing comically as it spoke.

Unable to control their reaction, the Winchester brothers burst out in laughter, copious amounts of water entering their mouths.

“This isn’t funny. I need to give you a message before the connection breaks. I’m burning through a significant amount of my already-limited grace to talk to you,” Clam-Cas said frustrated. Clearing their throats, the brothers looked at each other, then to the talking clam.

“Sorry, Cas. It’s a bit funny,” Dean chuckled, “do you know where we are though? How do we get back home?”

“I need you to listen very carefully, although some of what I say won’t make much sense.” replied Cas, “It seems you’ve been cursed by a very powerful witch who has transported you into some sort of alternate reality. I believe you’re currently experiencing events from a children’s film. I can pull you back but only from certain frames in the film, so I need you to get yourselves to a place called Sydney, in Australia I believe. Once there, head towards the opera house where I’ll be able to retrieve you.”

“You must hurry,” Cas continued “it’s a very limited window of opportunity and if I don’t get to you in time you may be lost to me forever”

“Great, tell us how to get there,” said Sam.

“That I do not know,” replied Castiel “you must figure it out on your own.”

Dean looked to his brother, determination on his face, “Don’t worry Sammy, I got this.”

“Perfect, I will meet you at the rendezvous point,” said Cas.

“Wait, wait, wait Cas,” said Dean “how come your voice doesn’t sound all funky like ours? You’re a freakin’ clam”

“Uh, I’m an angel, Dean. Now hurry, there isn’t much time,” Clam-Cas turned around on his bottom shell and hopped off the edge of the rock, leaving a confused Sam and Dean behind.

“So, Finding Nemo huh?” Sam teased as they swam upwards toward the current they had seen earlier.

“I watched it once, a while ago,” Dean mumbled, avoiding Sam’s mocking face, “Shut up, Sam”

“Hey, I was just asking. Anyway, it’s probably a good thing. It’ll help us get to Sydney faster,” Sam chuckled.

They reached the edge of the current where the last turtles of the nest were swimming past. Waiting for instructions, Sam looked at Dean who was watching the current, carefully coming up with a plan.

“Well,” started Dean, “from what I remembered they didn’t show how Dory and Marlin entered the East Australian Current but I’m thinking we can just swim straight in and it should be fine.”

Sam bit back a smile, “sounds like you really know what you’re talking about”

“I said shut up about it, Sam.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Sam and Dean swam backwards, preparing to plunge head first into the Current’s liquid wall. They flapped their fins forward in a rapid motion, closing their eyes in anticipation of a painful impact. Except that the impact never came, just a light slapping motion as their clownfish bodies entered the water tunnel. They opened their eyes to find themselves walled in by majestic turtles talking and laughing with each other.

“Duuuuuudes! That was awesome!” said a small turtle behind them. Sam and Dean turned around to see a large group of baby turtles beaming at them in admiration.

“Dean. Is that tiny turtle talking to us?” asked Sam in trepidation. Even though they were talking fish in this universe, the fact that all other animals could talk and hear them shocked the brothers into silence.

Snapping out of it, Dean smiled at the excited group of turtles running their mouths a hundred miles an hour as they twirled and bobbed in place, “Hey kids, is there maybe an adult we can talk to? Mom or dad maybe?”

“Yeah! Come on, I’ll take you to my dad! He’s the coolest dude on the planet!” replied the tiny turtle that seemed to be the leader of the pack. Dean nudged a still bewildered Sam to follow along with the pack, not wanting to lose his tiny clownfish brother in a sea of turtles. They swam towards the very back of the nest, where yet another group of baby turtles was huddled on the shell of a much larger turtle, completely engrossed in the story being told by a familiar goldfish. The baby turtle huddle made Dean stop completely in his tracks, causing Sam to bump into his large, slimy fin.

“Dean, what the hell?” said Sam, angrily swimming around to face his brother. Dean, however, was staring ahead, an excitedly nervous smile tugging at his scaly lips.

“Dude, it’s her. It’s Dory!” Dean exclaimed. Sam turned around to see what Dean was so excited about and noticed a Pacific blue tang, barely visible among the baby turtles.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s reaction and turned around to urge his brother to keep following their tiny tour guide, who had stopped to talk to a much bigger turtle swimming alongside the one upon which Dory and her friends were sitting. Hesitantly swimming forward, Dean followed Sam towards the large turtle that now sported a huge smile directed at them.

“Hey dudes! Squirt here tells me you did an awesome flip coming into the current! That so totally rocks!” said the reptile enthusiastically. Taken aback by its laid back demeanor, Sam hesitated before responding

“Right. Uh, thank you, Mr. Turtle, sir,” Sam stammered.

“Oh no, dude. Mr. Turtle is my father. Name’s Crush,” said the turtle.

“Oh, uh, okay Crush. Could you maybe help us? We need to get to Sydney, Australia and were told to take the East Australian Current,” explained Sam. Dean simply nodded in agreement, too starstruck to say anything.

“Well, whaddayaknow! Marlin and Dory here are headed that way too!” Crush replied excitedly. He turned over and pointed to the orange and blue fish that were still talking to the group of baby turtles. Upon hearing their names, Marlin and Dory turned to look at Crush and the Winchesters.

“You called, Crush?” asked Marlin, swimming towards them with Dory close on his tailfin.

“Hey jellyman, guess what? These dudes are also going to Sydney!” Crush gestured toward the Winchesters.

“Hi! I’m Dory!” exclaimed the blue tag, as she swam hurriedly towards Sam and Dean.

“Hi, Dory. I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean,” Sam looked up to Dean who was treading in place, his lips moving in an attempt to form words.

Dory looked at Dean curiously, “Hey Dean! Wanna come play hide and seek with us?”

Dean mustered up enough courage to nod, swimming alongside Dory, leaving Sam behind with Crush and Marlin. They headed towards the large group of baby turtles that Dory had been playing with earlier, Dean looking over at her in disbelief.

Hide and seek with Dory? Awesome, he thought.

Suddenly, Dory began swaying side-to-side while muttering what sounded like an address under her breath. She looked in Dean’s direction and grinned, sticking her fin out for him to shake, “Hi! I’m Dory! Wanna play hide and seek?”

Dean was confused for a moment, until he remembered Dory’s inability to remember most things. He shook her fin with his own and smiled sheepishly, “Hi Dory, I’m Dean. Hide and seek sounds great!”

“Yay! This is going to be so much fun! Okay, I’ll count, you go hide!” said Dory as she dropped down on the shell of another large turtle who simply winked and smiled. Dean looked around for a place to hide when his little brother came into view, waving him over. He sighed and swam towards Sam in defeat, He’s no fun.

“Where the hell have you been? I talked to Crush and he told me how to get to Sydney. Apparently we have to take something called the-”

“The swirling vortex of terror?” Dean interrupted.

“Yeah. How did you..? Never mind, I forgot you’re a child. Listen, the vortex is coming up and we have to take it together, otherwise we’ll lose each other and miss our chance to meet Cas.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and nodded, pouting as they swam back towards Crush and Squirt, who was giving directions to Marlin and Dory. They reached the group quickly as the current speed began picking up and Dean grabbed Sam under his fin, the vortex visible in the near distance.

“Okay, Sammy. Just hold on tight!” Dean yelled, the sound of the current around them growing louder as they neared the exit.

Dean waited for Squirt to kick off Marlin and Dory before jumping towards the water tornado. As they were about to enter, however, an unexpected wave slammed into Dean and forced him further into the current, causing the brothers to miss their exit.

“Dean! What are you doing? Now we’ll never get to Sydney!” Sam screamed in frustration as they saw Marlin and Dory exit the vortex. Crush remained behind, swimming against the current to yell goodbye to the fish before turning around to see Sam and Dean struggle to stay in place against the current.

“Awe dudes! You missed the exit!” groaned Crush as he threw both front fins up.

“Wait, no! We can go back! H-how do we go back, Crush?” stammered Dean, angry at himself for missing the exit.

“No can do, compadre. You’re going to have to wait for the next exit and swim back.”

“Great! Now we’ll never get back to Cas and we’ll be stuck as animated fish forever!” exclaimed Sam.

Dean ignored his little brother as he fought against the current to catch the blue tang’s attention “Wait! Dory! Trust the birds!”

Unable to hear him, Dory simply smiled and waved, “Bye, Liam! Bye, Sean!”

“Dean! Focus! How the hell are we supposed to get back?”

“Shut up, Sam! There has to be another way to Sydney,” Dean racked his brain for possible exits or alternatives but came up empty. It was all seeming bleak for the brothers until Crush swam towards them, an idea in mind.

“Alright, listen dudes, Squirt here has an idea but I gotta ask. How do ya feel about flying?”

“Flying?” the brothers asked in unison.

“Little buddy here’s got some fish friends, who have some sea lion friends that know some pelicans that can take you to Sydney,” explained Crush.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks.

“Pelicans? I don’t know, Dean. What if they eat us? Or drop us somewhere?” asked Sam. Dean frowned at his little brother, weighing their options.

“Dammit,” Dean started, “I don’t know but it may be our only chance to get to Cas in time.”

Sam sighed as he nodded and turned around to face Crush.

“Okay, Crush, we’ll do it.”

“Sweet, we’re coming up on the next exit. Wait here for Squirt to come back, he can give you the low down on the new plan.”

The brothers nodded and swam along with Crush, worried about the new plan and their chances of actually making it to Sydney alive. Squirt came back quickly, giving them directions for the risky plan. Although it was hard to hear him with the current noise picking up once more, the brothers nodded along as the small turtle twirled around in place, detailing how to properly exit and where to go once they got out.

“Okay dudes! Water Tornado of Destruction coming up!”

“The what now!?” exclaimed Sam. He looked to where Squirt’s fin was pointing, mouth dropped open in shock at what lay ahead.

Coming up in the distance was the biggest tornado-like current Sam and Dean had ever seen. Swirling upwards for what seemed like a thousand feet, the vortex moved violently from side to side. The younger Winchester looked to his brother, who was staring at the exit, fear apparent in his wide, green eyes. Even the laid back turtles surrounding them called to their little ones to protect them from the vacuum created by the terrifying exit.

“Dean? I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

Dean looked down at his little brother, who looked so small and fragile it reminded him of that fateful night when his father put six-month-old Sam in his arms and told him to run out of the house as the place filled up with smoke from the fire raging in the nursery. Swallowing the knot at the back of his throat, Dean nodded in determination and grabbed Sam once more, reassuring the small clownfish, “It’ll be okay, Sammy. I got you.”

“Okay dudes! Time to go!” yelled Crush as he pushed them towards the Tornado’s mouth.

“Good luck dudes!” Squirt’s voice was barely audible as the Winchesters were sucked into the liquid twister. An invisible, yet blunt, force pushed them upwards in a rotating motion. Dean barely managed to hold on to Sam, taking the hits as they were violently thrown around for another minute until, finally, the vacuum let go and spit the clownfish upwards and out of the water. Unable to hold on any longer, Dean let go of Sam as they fell back down towards the ocean, two soft plops signaled their landing.

Disoriented and nauseous, Sam looked around to where he saw Dean last. He glanced down and saw the older Winchester swim downwards. Except he wasn’t swimming, he was falling into the depths of the sea, unconscious from the beatings received while in the tornado. Sam dove quickly towards his brother, praying that Dean would wake.

Luckily, Dean regained consciousness before Sam reached him and, feeling himself sink, he flapped his large, orange fins upwards.

“Dean! Are you okay?” Sam hollered as he struggled to close the distance between them.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, groggily. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” Sam sighed in relief, “We need to get the hell out of here.”

“You don’t say,” Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. At least they were both okay.

“We have to find the sea lions, Dean. I don’t think we have much time left.”

Dean looked to his brother and nodded in agreement. They swam up towards the surface and searched for the sea lions, a small archipelago visible in the distance. Switching glances with each other, the brothers headed towards the nearest island. As they grew closer, the loud sounds of flapping caught their attention. Instincts kicking in, Sam turned around and came face to face with a large sea lion. Wide black eyes and long whiskers pointed straight at him.

“Uh, Dean?” whispered Sam, slapping at Dean’s side. The bigger clownfish turned around to see what Sam wanted to show him and pulled him back, swimming in front to protect his little brother.

“Say, are you two the fish that need to get to Sydney?” said the sea lion, with a British accent.

“Who the hell are you?” growled Dean.

“Woah, no need to get tough, mate. I just heard about two clownfish needing a ride to Sydney, thought you might be them.”

Sam swam around Dean, “Actually we are. If you could help us, we’d really appreciate it.”

“Of course, lads. That’s what we’re here for. Now wait just a moment,” The sea lion turned away from the brothers and began squawking at the air, the shrill noise loud enough to startle the Winchesters.

Holding his fins over his ears, Dean looked up in search of their ride, while a confused Sam stared at the shrieking sea lion. Soon, the shrill sounds of birds replaced the sea lion who stopped making pelican calls when he saw the squadron of white birds arrive. They dove downwards towards the brothers and landed harshly, creating waves that carried Sam and Dean in opposing directions.

“Hey Fluke! Where are the little fish that need to get to Sydney?” said one of the pelicans.

The sea lion, Fluke, replied, “Where’s Nigel? I thought he was the one who volunteered?”

“Yeah, no. He went off to help that Marlin fella. Sent us here instead.”

“Alright well, here they-” Fluke stopped in his tracks as he saw the Winchesters were nowhere in sight, “where did they go?”

“Here! Under the pelican!” yelled Sam from under the belly of one of the pelicans. Dean, on the other hand, emerged from under the sea where he’d been thrown when the birds landed.

“Ah! There we go! Two clownfish, ready for transport,” said Fluke.

“Woah wait, how do we know this is safe?” asked Dean, as he swam to Sam’s side.

“You gotta trust us, mate. We’ll get you to Sydney, fair dinkum” replied the leader of the pelican group.

“Fair dinkum? What the hell does that mean?” Dean whispered at Sam.

“I think it’s like Australian for like the truth or something like that.”

“Of course you’d know that,” Dean shook his head and turned his attention to the Aussie pelican, “Alright then, how are we gonna do this?”

“Well, ya gotta jump in my beak here. But don’t worry, I won’t eat you.”

“Woah woah woah, and we’re just supposed to trust that? Listen here, uh-” Dean hesitated, realizing he hadn’t even asked the pelican’s name.

“Oh, Oliver, mate. At your service.”

“Right, Oliver. How can we be sure you won’t just use us as a snack?”

“You’ve got to trust them lad, it’s the only way to get you there quick,” Fluke interrupted.

“Dean, I don’t think we have a choice here,” said Sam, “we’ve gotta get to Cas.”

The elder Winchester was unsure once again, but agreed to trust the pelicans. After all, the one that helped Marlin and Dory didn’t eat them, and Oliver seemed to be friends with him. They lined up in front of the large pelican, who had opened his beak wide enough to let them jump in.

“You better not be lying, Oliver. You try to eat us and I’ll kill you,” Dean threatened. Taking a deep breath, the brothers looked forward and swam quickly at the pelican’s beak, jumping as hard as they could to land in the puddle that had formed in its mouth.

They landed softly and swam straight to the edge of the bird’s beak, quickly holding on to it to avoid falling into its throat.

“Alright lads! Now hold on, and good luck getting to Sydney!” Fluke waved at the brothers as Oliver extended his wings and pushed upwards, swiftly and smoothly lifting off the surface of the ocean and up toward the blue sky. He continued a flapping motion until they reached a height at which he could glide without much movement, small drops of water sloshing out as they went.

Sam, while somewhat alarmed, was mesmerized by the view in front of him. A vast, cloudless canvas stretching for miles on end. The wind blew softly in his face, while the sun provided a warmth that he had not felt in a long time. The combination of all these sensations made Sam feel exhilarated, as though there was nothing in this world he couldn’t do. For the time being, he could forget about his life. Forget about hunting; angels, demons, and all other monsters flew out of his mind, carried by the soft breeze. For a moment, he even forgot he was a fish; the only thing that mattered was the impossible peace that settled within him.

Dean, on the other hand, was praying to all kinds of gods that the bird would not fail. His fear of flying kicking in, he shut his eyes to avoid seeing how high the pelican had taken them. Every sound a reminder that at any moment, something could happen to this bird, pummeling them down to their death.

“Aaaigh, weehe aahoss heehe,” Oliver struggled to say something to the Winchesters.

“What the hell did he say?” yelled a petrified Dean.

“I think he said we’re almost there!” replied Sam, earning a muffled “Uh-huh” from Oliver.

Suddenly, Oliver dove eliciting terrified screams from Sam and Dean who were now holding on to the pelican’s tongue for dear life. As quickly as he dove, Oliver evened out as he looked for a place to land. Dean glanced over the bird’s beak, hoping to spot the opera house. To his left, the white arches of the opera house peeked over surrounding buildings. He tapped excitedly on Oliver’s tongue as he yelled, “There! Go to the opera house!”

“Ohhay!” responded the pelican, leaning sideways to turn towards the target. He flapped his wings softly, gliding over the crowds while Sam and Dean searched for Castiel. A task that proved unexpectedly easy since the angel was the only person wearing a large, tan coat in 100 degree weather.

“There he is! Oliver, take us to the guy in the trench-coat!” Sam yelled excitedly. Oliver turned and headed towards their friend, squawking to get his attention.

A perplexed Castiel looked up to see a large, white bird headed straight for him. Eyes widened in bewilderment, he raised his arms in an attempt to block the impact but was unsuccessful as the bird hit him with incredible force, managing to knock the wind out of the already weakened angel. The tourists around them scrambled to get the bird off the confused man, Castiel holding its beak at bay, unaware that Oliver was simply trying to drop the Winchesters off in his palm. With another loud squeal, Oliver was able to distract the humans, and Castiel, long enough to lean down and spit out the clownfish he’d been carrying in his mouth. By sheer luck, the Winchesters landed next to Castiel’s head, who then turned to look at them, and without a second thought picked them up.

“Cover your eyes!” ordered the angel, prompting Sam and Dean to shut their eyes just in time to avoid the bright light that emanated from Castiel’s chest, showering the entirety of Sydney in luminescence as a familiar coldness washed over the brothers before they lost consciousness.

“Dean, wake up!”

The deep voice barely registered in Dean’s mind as he regained consciousness once more. Keeping his eyes closed, Dean reached up to his chest, expecting slimy scales but met by soft, dry material instead. His eyes fluttered open as they tried to adjust to incandescent light emanating from the cheap motel lamp.

“Hey, he’s awake, Cas!” said Sam, sighing in relief.

“What happened?” Dean groaned, pain slowly spreading throughout his body.

“It seems the injuries you received while in the animated ocean traveled with you. I tried to heal you but I was too weak. I am sorry,” said Cas, regretfully.

Dean attempted to sit up, an action that only caused the pain to multiply. He groaned in pain and laid back down, “I feel like I got run over by a damn truck.”

“Yeah, well pretty much. This was probably caused by that stupid tornado of destruction or whatever,” Sam got up from where he’d been sitting at Dean’s side to get his brother a drink.

“The… what?” Castiel cocked his head to the side, wondering what Sam meant.

Dean chuckled, “Nothing, Cas. Thanks for getting us out of there.”

“Yeah, thanks Cas. Also for taking care of the witch that sent us there. Although, I’m not sure Dean would’ve suffered much if we stayed a little longer. After all, he didn’t get to say goodbye to his ultimate idol,” Sam said, biting back laughter at Dean’s bitch face.

“Hey!” Dean’s voice dropped an octave as he growled in pain, “You know what, I’m not gonna apologize for loving that fish. Not to you, not to anyone.”

“Dude, relax. I’m just playing,” beamed Sam, shaking his head. He sat back down on his own bed and placed a glass of whiskey on the bedside table, close to Dean.

“Whatever,” Dean replied, “just promise me; no witches for the next year, at least.”

Knocking back his own drink, Sam agreed, “Alright, no witches for the next year.”

Dean Sweethearts Taglist

@lyarr24 / @akshi8278 / @pillowjj / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl / @attackonnat

Sam Darlings Taglist

@austin-winchester67 / @supernaturalgrandma / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl

Forever Loves Taglist

@deanwanddamons / @hobby27

#i do understand that reference challenge #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #finding nemo #spn x finding nemo crossover #spnfanfiction

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Curse.11 Instru-mental

[First] [Masterlist] [Next] Beta: @lpayne612 Rating: PG Pairing: Prince!Jin x Reader Genre: fantasy, romance, comedy, drama, mystery, and more good stuff Words: 2.5k

Summary: A modern-day fairy tale whereby seven young princes born under King Bang’s greed cannot find true love. Unless they break a special spell, called the ‘Bang curse’. In order to break the curse, Prince Seokjin must be loved by a ‘Blue’ blood, by a royal. That seems almost impossible when you have a pig nose. (based off the movie Penelope)

Seokjin strolled through the palace, his face mask on in the event he ran into any unfortunate servants. He moved leisurely down the halls and peeked out into the gardens until he arrived at the main common area that his brothers would use. Like any other home with the boys, there was a collection of each of their hobbies.

A collection of mixed sports equipment: one basketball, a riding crop, hockey sticks, and a football. Seokjin passed the living room with its plush couches and bean bags, and an array of video game consoles, and he moved along - passing the trophies and bookshelves and figurines until he landed at the end door.

Reaching out his hand, his fingertips slowly brushed the smooth wooden door until he reached the letters engraved into the mahogany wood. Letters that spelled out his name ‘Seokjin’, like the nameplate at a zoo. His childhood prison.

“Are you kids ready for the ball? We are leaving in five minutes,” his father called, it was the annual Christmas ball. The royal family always attended and led the ball and all the winter activities. Seokjin, every year, would watch them while sitting on his bed.

“Why isn’t hyung going?” Taehyung finally asked, old enough to understand that his older brother was sitting out.

“He can’t go Taehyungie, people might get scared, they aren’t used to seeing Jin’s face. Remember, we can’t tell anyone about his face because then they might get scared and try to hurt him,” Yoongi said

“I don’t want to go if hyung doesn’t get to go!” Taehyung said, his eyes watering.

“Tae,” Seokjin called his younger brother, “I want you to go. I love watching everyone having fun on the TV, and one year I will get to go to the party with you, so go and have fun for your big brother.”

Seokjin wiped his four-year-old brother's eyes and grabbed the zip of the white padded jacket, securing it under Taehyung’s chin. “You stay warm Tae. You can borrow my scarf and it will be like I’m there with you.”

Wrapping the emerald green scarf around his younger brother, he smiled fondly. “I will be home soon hyung.” Taehyung hugged Seokjin tightly and pulled back with a bright grin, “I’m going to bring back a goodie bag for you!”

“Alrighty get out of here and have some fun.”

Seokjin smiled pulling down the gold lever door handle with filigree details, pushed the door open, and the nostalgia hit him like a freight train. He strolled to the big bed and touched the small stuffed toy he had been given that very same night.

“Kim Seokjin! Where have you gone?” the governess called stomping through Seokjin’s room searching for him. He had climbed down from the second-floor landing in the garden and ran to the courtyard. “There you are. Come back you little--”

Seokjin kept running until he reached the side of the courtyard and was in the middle of playing when he heard some kids laughing. Curious he strolled closer; through the fence he saw them making fun of a young girl. Seokjin began throwing snowballs at the bullies and they ran away, throwing her stuffed toy over the fence.

She was crying clutching the fence. She looked to be a little younger than himself, but not anything too significant. He picked up the small stuffed pig and covered his face with his hand, cursing that he didn’t bring a mask with him.

“You dropped this?” he said, holding out the pink plush. She looked up at him and took the small toy from his outstretched hand with a small smile. He handed over an embroidered handkerchief.

“Who are you?” she asked quietly, her small hands took the small square of fabric and wiped her eyes.

“I’m Jin,” Seokjin’s voice was barely audible but she picked it up.

“Are you the prince? Good evening.” She bowed low, the stuffed toy falling from her hands and he dived for it, forgetting about his abnormality until he heard her gasp. He nervously covered his face, his face and ears turning red.

“I am sorry.” He was close to tears, his father would be furious if he found out someone had seen him. “I’m a monster.”

“My mum says monsters are monsters if they do bad things and hurt people without feeling sad.” Her smile was unique, starting off a little lopsided before pulling up into a full charming grin that turned up the outer corners of her eyes.

Seokjin hummed holding the small pig plush; that night had changed him so much. He opened the bedside table and saw a picture Taehyung drew for him. He smiled, his younger brother was so gentle and kind. Seeming to remember the purpose of entering this wing of the house, he shut the drawer holding the picture in his hand.

With as much stealth as he could manage, he ducked his head out of his bedroom door, looking down the hallway. Turning to the door to his right, he could see a faint glow under the frame. He was sure Taehyung said they had all gone out. It was the door to Yoongi’s room, and he would honestly be livid if he caught Jin snooping around. Opening the door, he grabbed the guitar from across the room and turned from the darkroom dully illuminated by a few LED cords.

Moving quickly from his brother’s chambers, Seokjin made it to the middle of the living room when he heard talking, and the door opened. He ran as fast as he could down the halls, ignoring his brother’s lion shouts knowing he was too lazy to chase him, Seokjin made it to the meeting room - peeking inside making sure the space was empty before entering and placing the guitar against the sofa.

Checking his phone, he saw you had messaged your arrival to the palace. He ran through the hidden door and closed it firmly, moving his chair and sitting in front of the mirror. He pulled the small table with the PA microphone closer so as to talk to you when you arrived. Waiting, Seokjin shuffled trying to get comfortable and even started pacing, fiddling with his hands and more.

He saw the door open and you entered looking positively radiant in the same pink coat. He laughed as he saw you giggling over the guitar, picking it up and smiling at the mirror. “Any requests?”

The two of you were in a fit of giggles with the way you were playing the guitar in an awful rendition of Epiphany by an unknown artist. You were strumming awfully, not even trying to make some semblance of the tune.

“I’m the one I should-” your brows furrowed as you strummed different notes in hopes of strumming the correct one but failing. “love, love? love? In this… I’m the one I should love, in this world...”

Seokjin received a text, and he looked down at his phone and cackled. Yoongi had messaged and by the wording, he didn’t seem happy.

[Yoongi: Stop, you borrowed my guitar for this? If you don’t stop her I will disown you, my brother]

“Okay, stop. Stop!” Seokjin called into the speaker. “You don’t play the guitar, I get that now!”

“I thought I did pretty well?” You pouted playfully but conceded to his demands, “So it’s not the guitar. I can’t wait for what instrument you choose next week.”

“If I don’t figure it out soon, Yoongi is going to murder you and then me,” Seokjin sighed, his sides aching pleasantly from the laughter.

“You know what your laugh sounds like.” You walked closer to the mirror. Seokjin, who didn’t realize he had lent forward, sat up straight pulling away from you nervously. His heart beating like in the dramas he often watched. The small scrunched up paper bag (with the bakery logo that once held the delicious pastry you had brought for him to try) fell with a soft thud.

You looked up at him, and something about the delivery of a small lopsided smile struck a chord. The way it pulled up into a lazily grin - lifting the outer corners of your eyes in an almost mischievous way.

“It reminds me of cleaning windows or mirrors. If I wipe this mirror, that would be your laugh.” You were so close to the mirror that your smile dropped.

“Is everything okay?” Seokjin asked, hoping you couldn’t see him.

“I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror. I don’t know why, but I just don’t enjoy seeing myself.” Looking at the ground Seokjin gave a small smile understanding how that felt. “Honestly you’re beautiful, so I don’t think you need to hide from yourself.”

“Thank you,” cheeks heating up, you sat on the couch across from the mirror and smiled. “Okay I have thought of some questions?”

“I have as well,” he smiled pulling the microphone closer “But ladies first”

“Okay, get comfy, and don’t answer anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“Of course, my lady, ask your first question.”

“What is your favorite color?”

Seokjin sat across from the young girl, “Your nose is turning pink.” Seokjin watched the small girl giggle as she unwrapped her pastel pink scarf,leaned her hands through the bars of the fence, and looped it over his shoulders - wrapping it around to cover the lower half of his face. “You have to protect your precious little nose.”

“What about you?” he asked, snuggling into the warmth and the sweet buttercream scent embedded into the soft worn fabric. “Won’t you get cold?”

“I am not a prince, so you are more important. My mother told me to respect others who are older and more important. You look good in pink, it’s cute.”

“Pink,” he smiled fondly thinking of that night many years ago. “What is your favorite holiday?’

“Hmm… I think it would be Christmas. It was the last holiday I spent with my parents, even though I can’t remember much, just knowing that I had one last night with them means a lot to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be it is totally fine, I can’t remember much. They said I lost some memories in the car accident.”

“That’s such a nice way to see the holiday - instead of blaming and cursing the Christmas you saw the good in the situation.”

The questions were passed back and forth, exploring everything and anything the two of you could think of. “When was the last time you were outside?”

“Other than walking onto my balcony or passing from one building to another across the courtyard, the last time I left the palace was to play on the grounds. It was the day after Christmas when I was nine.

Seokjin was standing in the snow waiting for her to return. He held the pig plush hoping she would come back,ut as an hour passed, he started to feel disheartened. A hand fell softly against his shoulder, and he turned to see Yoongi standing there looking positively freezing.

“Come on. Her parents probably don’t let her walk around at night.” His words were gentle - which was not like Yoongi, but it still didn’t stop the harsh reality stinging in Seokjin’s chest.

That day had made him distrustful of everyone. She was supposed to see him that day so he could return the plush and her scarf, but she was a no show.

Your phone chimed, cutting through the laughter abruptly. Seokjin sat up, his face falling. He knew this was you having to leave, and his chest felt weird with the idea. Watching your face fall would have normally made the eldest prince laugh, but he was resigned to a small sad smile. Clearly, you too were reluctant to leave. He reached out wanting to stop you as you collected your things, but his hand hit the cold mirror instead. “I have to go, I’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he spoke softly watching you pull your hair into a messy ponytail.

“If I could stay I would,” you looked up at him with a coy smile, “but a young lady shan’t spend the lengthy evening unchaperoned with a man.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask that of you - it would ruin your reputation.” He felt his ears turn red at the fact you saw him as a man just like any of his handsome brothers.

“I mean, you haven’t even prepared me a bed,” you laughed gesturing about the room.

Your words caused his heart to race at the prospect that you might stay the night. Separated by a thin layer of cold glass But there, where he could see and talk to you, things he was often deprived of as a child.

“I really must go,” you said, giving a wave rushing out the door backward. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I will hold you to that,” Seokjin waved letting his hand fall after you had disappeared out the room. He sat for a moment before falling back onto the couch, kicking his feet in the air.

He picked up the guitar and raced it back through the palace, grinning behind the fabric mask he wore and entering the common living area. His brothers were all sitting surrounded by snacks watching intently. The TV showed footage of the room but lagging by a few minutes. He watched you laying on the couch describing some of your favorite places to go and places you would dream of going to.

He watched as your phone rang and the boys shouted. Taehyung pointed his ice cream at the TV, “No, she can’t leave yet!”

“Seokjin is here, of course she left,” Yoongi said, but they were all shushed by Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin who were watching with giddy smiles.

“I mean, you haven’t even prepared me a bed,” you laughed gesturing about the room.

Namjoon choked on his tea and Jungkook hit him on the back, not seeing his older brother wincing with the impact of his hand. Seokjin’s face went warm again as they all cheered suggestively. “She likes you,hyung!” They cheered looking around, “She’s the one, she’s going to break the spell!”

The boys circled Seokjin jumping around,kicking and slapping his back happily showing their enthusiasm. For a moment, Seokjin felt normal, as though he was no different from his brothers. A young man with a woman that - dare he say - he loved and he hoped he wasn’t wrong for assuming that, one day, she might love him well.

He knew if she broke the curse, he would be handsome and someone worthy of being loved, but she would just have to wait for him. He had handed back the guitar and was ready to retire to his room for the evening to process everything that had happened.

“Hyung,” a voice called as he walked down the halls. Seokjin turned to see Jungkook had followed him with a shy smile, “You weren’t around much when I was young. The others said Father had moved you pretty young to the other wing, and well, I just wish you were there. I wish I could have known you the way I do now - back then. I’m proud of you.”

“Ya! How old are you to be speaking like that?” Seokjin laughed and the two started playfully fighting. After they were done, Seokjin excused himself, patting Jungkook’s head and resuming his walk across the palace to his solitude.

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okaybutlikeimagine · 5 years ago

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@marriedtotheenemy asked: "I would love to hear about Hop and the kids trying to cook thanksgiving dinner, and Billy reading about what the settlers did to the first Americans. Also, total inability to cook turkey!"

YES!! Okay okay let’s see here…

Hop 100% has not had a big Thanksgiving dinner in a LONG time. He just… hasn’t had a family to have a big dinner with, y’know?? And it’s sad. For the past few years when Thanksgiving would come around he’d head out to Benny’s diner to hang out with him and the other lonely/divorced/widowed people of Hawkins. He used to get offers from women he was… “friendly” with. He got an offer from Callahan and Powell one year to spend the day with their respective families. One year Joyce reached out…

But spending time with Benny was always better. Felt a little less lonely, if that can be believed. Benny always felt like family. He treated everyone like it. He was able to see any outsider and find warmth in his heart for them.

But then when… those people… in his own diner….

Anyway, when the first Thanksgiving with El rolled around she had JUST moved into Hop’s cabin and he didn’t necessarily have the means of making a major dinner. Plus, doing that for just the two of them didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Not to mention the girl didn’t even KNOW anything about Thanksgiving and he decided, rather than explain everything about every holiday ever, he’d just forego telling her. They had a nice night eating some overdone spaghetti and extra-seasoned meatballs. El seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. Hop tried to keep his mind off of his friend. And Barb and those nightmares and...

But flashforward a year or so and Hop’s cabin is bustling because El is officially wise to holidays. Billy had a fun time giving her borderline incorrect information about them all, like that Easter is about a gigantic, pastel colored chicken laying eggs everywhere followed by an entourage of chocolate flavored bunnies. (“What?” Billy had said through a smirk when Hop expressed disdain. “Bunnies don’t lay eggs. Mine makes more sense.”)

But now…

Well, El has been asking Billy all week about Thanksgiving. she refuses to ask Hop about holidays anymore after he said Valentine's day is "a hack holiday made by a bunch of candy companies who are draining our wallets pretending love is about chocolate."

She didn't like that, especially since Mike bought her a box of chocolates and Max bought her a fluffy stuffed teddy bear (she still wears the ribbon that came around his neck in her hair. Max smiles when she sees it) and El thought it was the best day EVER. She much preferred Billy's description of Cupid's army, even though flying babies sounded kind of ridiculous to her...

But Billy's fun is ending bc she’s realized that Billy’s been pulling her leg about most holidays (“What do you mean you don’t believe in the Great Pumpkin? Snoopy said so.” “No. Linus said so.” “Whatever. ”) So all week he’s been fibbing and all week she’s been giving him A Look.

“I know there’s no big turkey.”

“How do you know?”

El furrows her eyebrows. She takes a second to think about it.

“I just know.” She says, arms crossed and nose crinkled. Billy rolls his eyes and shrugs.

But she keeps asking. And he keeps telling stories and she keeps saying no so.

Billy tosses a book onto their coffee table.

"Alright kid, happy turkey day."

El eyes it curiously, unsure of the words on the cover.

"Whats this?"

"A book about Thanksgiving. From the library. Don't say i don't love you."

Billy's face immediately burns red after he says it. El gives a blinding smile and a little "love you too!" Billy shoves her shoulder and starts reading the book for her.

And let me tell you, it's probably the worst thing Hop could imagine happening today.

Because this is no kids book about turkeys and stuffing and sweet little people gathering around becoming friends. No, of course Billy had to go check out a book about what really happened and honestly, Hop doesn't know why he's surprised.

So there he is, in the kitchen, taking the turkey out of the fridge and scratching his head at how the fuck he's gonna cook this, when…

"Holy shit! They did what?"

Goddamnit Billy.

"DAD!"

Hop almost drops the turkey.

"What?!"

Billy storms into the kitchen, waving the book in his hand, trailed by a wide eyed, frightened El.

"What the fuck?"

"Language." Hop grumbles as he puts the turkey down.

"The pilgrims are shitheads."

"Billy!"

"Seriously! Look at this." And now Billy is walking towards Hop with the book open, showing him columns of text and samples of writings detailing sicknesses and fights and-

"Theyre bullies." El says from her spot near the couch.

"Yeah what is this??"

Hop rolls his eyes.

"Do you not pay attention in school-"

"Did you not pay attention? All they do is suck America's di-"

"Okay enough! Enough! Yeah, the pilgrims weren't .. great."

And honestly Hop doesn't know a whole lot about the settlers. Hes heard stuff, mainly from Joyce around senior year when she would complain to him about how America is nowhere NEAR as great as everyone says. Hop just remembers trying to kiss her to get her to stop and then getting slapped for it.

But here's his kid, ranting about settlers and pilgrims and diseases and-

"Alright alright alright, they were bad! I get it, i know, but… we made Thanksgiving a good thing now." He looks El in the eye. "It's about family now. Maybe it's a bad reason to get together but… any reason to spend time with family is a… A good one, right?"

El takes a second… but she nods. Billy is still scowling, but Hop handles the book out of his hands and slides it on top of the kitchen cabinets where even Billy can't reach.

"Alright, no more pilgrim talk, help me with the turkey, kid."

Billy grumbles a bit, but he walks over to help while El pulls a chair up to the counter and watches intently, confused by something so big and so… raw.

Thing is...

"The ovens not big enough."

Hop freezes.

"Of course it's big enough." Hes sure. Hes made a turkey in here before… right?

"Nope." Billy says plainly. "Look."

"I've made turkeys in here before!"

"You made a turkey for yourself in your dusty old cabin?" Billy asks, voice strained from holding the huge turkey and heaving it up onto the stovetop.

And that hits Hop like a freight train. Because of fucking course he hasn't. Why would he? It's just…

He has a family again. And it feels like hes had them for years. Their whole lives. He remembers the feeling of before. The feeling of helping Sara mash the potatoes. Of watching his wife glaze the turkey. Of carving it.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Billys hand on his shoulder pulls him out.

"That's not gonna work, old man." Billy says condescendingly and itd get on Hop's nerves if the boys eyes werent flooded with concern for something Hop knows he knows.

So…

"It'll fit."

"Uhhh…." Billy says, watching Hop shove the turkey in sideways unseasoned and…

Hop turns around with renewed vigor.

But he has no recipes. He uses to have some from his last mother but his ex wife took a good chunk of them in the divorce ans he threw the rest out in a fit of depression one night. And now they can't use the oven for anything and they don't have enough bread for stuffing (Hop sends Billy and El out to the store with money) and after hours of raiding their kitchen and trying to boil the potatoes enough to be mashedd, El shrieks.

Billy turns to her and sees her pointing at-

"The oven!"

Is on fire.

Hop grabs the fire extinguisher, cussing the flames out as he sprays them.

Billy grabs El and pulls her away from the kitchen and they stand there, frozen as Hop battles the fire like it's a goddamn demogorgon. When it's just about out, he looks at El and nods towards the phone.

"Call Joyce."

Billy helps Hop pull the burnt as hell turkey out of the oven and into the dumpster out back, before getting the nod from El and guiding Hop into his truck, El holding the pumpkin pie she and Billy bought at the store bc they knew this wasn't going to go well.

Will greets the three of them at the door with a laugh.

"Thanks pipsqueak." Billy says while mussing up Will's hair.

And it's a LOVELY dinner, truly. Jonathan helps his mom cook, Billy helps El and Will get the plates down from the cabinets, and Hop does his damnedest to carve the turkey (but hes a little out of practice, so Jonathan has to step in)("he's been doing it for a few years now, Hop, just let him" Joyce says gently.)

And it's just so warm. Everyone is smiling and talking and eating happily and it's so nice and Billy can't help but think about Max while Hop can't help but think about Sara but looking around the table at everyone laughing and then they look to each other and smile and…

It's wonderful.

El calls Max so Billy can talk to her on the phone and wish her a Happy Thanksgiving. Will and Jonathan give their mom the first slice of pie, as always. Billy and Jonathan bicker in their oddly amiable way as El uses her powers to help Will begin decorating for Christmas. They're just a family, one big, odd, extremely happy family and its weird, yeah, but damn if they aren't the happiest people alive.

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spork-guitar · 5 years ago

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Lucky Lady Chapter 2 (Bodyguard!Mari)

Based off of a prompt by @gale-of-the-nomads

@sapphicsovereign @gingerdaile

Before we begin, I wanted to apologize for how long this chapter took. My sister gave me the flu last week, and I basically did nothing but sleep, then I just procrastinated for a few days (as usual). I’m still going to try my best to crank out a chapter every couple days, but that won’t always be the case. To make up for it, here’s a longer chapter (oops).

Chapter 1 here

Ladybug was struggling. It was her first day on the job, and she was already failing miserably. So what if Adrien Agreste just happened to be super hot? She could keep it professional. Besides, he was engaged, and it didn’t matter how plainly uncomfortable he was around his fiancée, she was going to hold her tongue and let him run his own life. She wasn’t going to be the next in a long line of overprotective, sheltering people he had to put up with.

Still, there was a chance he could be shallow and self-absorbed. His sunny disposition and gorgeous smile could just be a façade, covering up how he truly was when the public wasn’t looking at his picture on a magazine cover. Ladybug had known him for a few measly hours. She had no right to make judgments yet or ever, and she knew it.

Running on a couple restless hours of sleep and pure adrenaline, she focused the little attention she had on getting the seemingly happy couple to the park. Under strict instructions from Nathalie to stay until the end of the photo shoot, she allowed Adrien to introduce her to the photographer while Lila got ready.

“Ah! You’re much more photogenic than the last one.” Vincent held up his hands and closed one eye as if studying her through the lens of a camera. “Have you ever considered becoming a model?”

“Oh, I don’t think I would be very good at that.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, perhaps if things don’t work out with Mlle. Lila.” She felt a rush of blood heat her cheeks and struggled to come up with a suitable response, but fortunately (unfortunately?) for her, a certain model stepped in.

Adrien smiled at her and winked, engaging the cameraman in conversation and leading him away from her, and Ladybug let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

She briefly considered waiting in the car - or running away, which had also crossed her mind - instead of watching Lila hang all over Adrien as an overly charismatic photographer communicated using metaphors about Italian food, but she ultimately decided to stay. She was Adrien’s bodyguard, after all, and if protecting him meant staying close by him at all times, that was a sacrifice she would have to make.

Ladybug found herself entranced by the way Adrien immediately understood the photographer’s obscurities, the way he furrowed his brow when he was confused, how graceful his movements were. A small voice in the back of her head whispered what she was afraid of, that he could be as egotistical as the woman posing beside him, and once she got to know him she would see his true colors.

A cry pierced the air, snapping her out of her stupor, and her head instinctively turned to see what was happening. A little girl stood at the trunk of a tree, yelling to a woman - her mother, perhaps - who was blatantly ignoring her, and gesturing frantically to the tree. Ladybug squinted, barely able to make out what she thought might have been a cat. It was resting on a low branch, only a couple meters off the ground, but way too high for the young girl to reach. It was fine, though, someone would call the fire department and-

“Adrien! Where are you going?” Lila whined as she was forcefully pried off her fiancé, who had broken into a dead sprint towards the girl.

He arrived in seconds, squatting down as the girl tearfully explained the situation. Ladybug had half a mind to go after him and chastise him for running away, but she was admittedly curious.

“What are you waiting for?” Lila shrieked, arms folded across her chest. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Do your job!”

Ladybug rolled her eyes internally and started walking towards Adrien, who stood on his toes and stretched one arm up, the other braced on the tree trunk as he cooed at the little kitten. It inched closer skeptically, batting a curious paw before crawling into his waiting hand. He lowered his arm, gently cradling the kitten to his chest and petting it, and Ladybug stopped dead in her tracks.

There was something so sweet and tender, almost domestic, about the scene before her that rendered her completely speechless. A rush of indescribable… something hit her like a freight train, and it was only when he looked back at her and she realized she had been staring at him that it clicked.

She was in love - with her client, no less, and to make matters worse, he was engaged. Maybe, the logical part of her whispered, maybe that’s not what this is. Honestly, there’s no way she could have fallen for someone after knowing them for all of a day. No matter what, keeping things strictly professional between them was the most important thing. She was there to do her job, and nothing else.

“Ladybug?” The sound of her cover name instantly derailed her train of thought. “Are you alright?”

“Ha, yeah,” she assured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I guess I get in my head sometimes.”

Adrien chuckled. “I can understand that. You looked a little out of it.”

“My apologies, M. Agreste. I’m afraid I’m not much of a morning person.”

“Well, we certainly have that in common. When my mother was around, she always told me I would get used to waking up early, and I never believed her.”

Ladybug nodded, unsure what else to say. The short conversation came to a dead stop, and Ladybug focused on not staring at Adrien. It didn’t matter that he may as well have been literally chiseled out of stone and extremely handsome in every sense of the word, she was still his bodyguard, and he was engaged. That was that.

The Agrestes were full of mysteries. It was something that intrigued her about the family, and one of the reasons she had volunteered so eagerly for the job, but especially the disappearance of Emilie Agreste, formerly Graham de Vanily. She had vanished under mysterious circumstances when Adrien was barely a teenager, and nothing but false leads were found in the ten years the case had been open.

And then there was perhaps the greatest mystery of all, why Adrien would ever marry Lila Rossi.

“Adrien!” A singsong voice called out from behind them. Ladybug inwardly cringed as a mane of hair and expensive perfume brushed by her, planting a loud kiss on Adrien’s lips and snaking her arms around his neck. “It’s time to go, chouchou.”

“So soon?” He freed an arm from her grasp to check his phone. “It’s only been a little over an hour.”

“Philippe decided to end early today.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Vincent, you mean?”

She waved a hand, dismissing his correction. “Whatever. At least we have some extra time to… do something fun before you have a piano lesson.”

“Piano’s tomorrow. I have fencing today.”

“Of course. Silly me!” Lila giggled as if her blunder was the funniest mistake she ever made.

Ladybug cleared her throat. “I’ll let Nathalie know we’ll be arriving ahead of schedule, if that’s alright with you.”

Lila sneered at her and rolled her eyes. “I much prefer the one that didn’t talk.”

Determined not to let her words have too much meaning, Ladybug quickly put them out of her head, walking in short, quick strides back to the sedan. The drive home was silent and awkward, save for Lila’s occasional critique of Ladybug’s driving skills. Her first day on the job ended worse than it began, with a newfound love for the handsome Adrien Agreste, and a blossoming rivalry with his unbearable fiancée.

#gale-of-the-nomads #miraculous ladybug #bodyguard!mari #ml fic #ml au

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justjessame · 4 years ago

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Babysitting Butcher Chapter 11

The sun woke me up the next morning. I was alone in my bed, naked, and if I didn’t feel the perfect soreness that reminded me of the night before I would have assumed I had dreamt it.

Rolling over, looking up at the ceiling, I tried very hard to not feel bereft that Billy hadn’t stayed until I woke up. What happened was fucking madness, and it wouldn’t be able to happen again. We both knew that, no doubt, and him especially since he was no doubt still mourning the loss of his wife. Shit. I rolled out of bed, forcing away the surge of delicious memory that caused my hips and thighs to be stiff and tender, and headed for my bathroom. A hot shower, and I’d be good as new.

As I was pulling panties from my drawer, a scent hit me that didn’t make sense. Was that-

“You’re awake,” Billy offered, standing in my bedroom doorway holding a tray laden with breakfast. He was wearing just his boxers, and I realized with a glance at my floor that his clothes were still tangled with mine. “I wanted to surprise you with-” his eyes flicked to the tray and I felt my smile wanting to come out. “Hungry?”

“I could eat,” climbing back in the bed, forgetting that I was still completely bare until I heard him groan behind me, I looked over my shoulder. A twist of need hit me, and it had nothing to do with the food on the tray. “Are you joining me?” I asked, propping up the pillows on the headboard so we’d be comfortable.

He set the tray over my lap and got in beside me. “Only if you want me to, Ronnie.” A shake of my head had me picking up my fork and cutting off a piece of the pancake he’d drizzled with syrup. Instead of biting it, I held it out for him. “‘Fraid I’d poison you?” I rolled my eyes and watched him chomp down on the bite with exaggerated viciousness, then he was moaning dramatically at the taste.

“You’re such a-” his lips met mine, the sweetness of the syrup and the underlying flavor of him hitting me like a freight train. I don’t know how I managed to keep hold of the fork, but when he pulled away, flicking gently against my lower lip I still had it in my hand. I licked my lips, still a hint of syrup left from his mouth, and our eyes met. “Not bad, Butcher.” He was smirking as I took my first bite, and had to agree that he wasn’t half bad at pancake making.

We shared, bite for bite, and got distracted a time or two for the taste of something a little different. Like when a string of syrup trailed down his beard, and it seemed like a shame to waste, and I had to be sure it hadn’t dribbled further down. As I licked his neck, I was happy to see that he was enjoying my thoroughness. Or when I was clumsy and missed my mouth, a bite of pancake fell on my chest, and Billy got to it before I could grab it with my fingers. It was only fair that he used his mouth to make sure I wasn’t overly sticky, right?

Breakfast was finished, the tray set on the floor, and then Billy made sure that I hadn’t been butterfingered enough to have dropped anything lower. Taking his time to check every single inch of my body for stray sugar or crumbs. It seemed only proper to do the same for him, and I copied his careful inspection that he’d done on my body on his. Watching as he studied my complete devotion to making certain he was in pristine and satisfied condition before I was finished.

After a shower, together if you can believe it, and then a very slow redressing, Billy left. He looked like he was conflicted, and I was afraid to ask why. If he finally started to regret this, then I didn’t want to know yet, since I hadn’t. One final kiss, long and lingering, and then he was gone.

Monday came too soon. Yes, I know the days of the week, but seriously, ONE fucking day to process what happened between Billy and me, and it wasn’t even a WHOLE day.

I got ready and had to stop repeatedly to steady my pounding heartbeat, my pulse was ragged, and I swore that I’d end up taking some type of mood stabilizer if I didn’t calm my shit down. Slipping into my heels, checking the mirror a final time, I shook myself out of it. I was going to WORK. I would be professional and distant and a fucking calm presence in the building. That was my JOB.

I pulled into the parking lot, grabbed my bag, and entered the building with an absent greeting to Anthony. Standing outside my office, when I made my way down the hallway, wasn’t Billy Butcher. Instead, standing there looking as comfortable to be there as I was at seeing them, was Kimiko and Frenchie.

“Morning?” I was squinting, trying to understand the change, but with a flash my eyes closed. Distance. Billy was finally regretting it. And this was his answer. “I guess you guys are here to help me with the files?”

A nod from Frenchie and a shrug from Kimiko was my answer. Great, this should be fun.

Frenchie wasn’t as bad at the task as I thought he might be, and Kimiko was teachable, in her own way. We sat on the floor, in the same position that Billy and I had taken as our routine, but with the door shut. Kimiko was leaps and bounds past her fast triggered violence, but I’d rather Joseph not freak out more than necessary.

We were scribbling away when my phone rang, not my office line, but my cell phone. Checking the screen, I sighed. “Hello, Mother,” I answered, standing up and moving toward the window so my conversation wouldn’t bother my worker bees.

“Honestly, Veronica,” she started right in on how disappointing my performance had been during the charity event where I was sold like chattel. “I have to tell you, I feared that John would ask for a refund, you were so abrupt and rude.” Damn it, he hadn’t? “That would have been so embarrassing for our family, Veronica, you do understand that don’t you?” I rolled my eyes and let her roll on. Honor of the family, blah blah blah, a complete disappointment as a daughter, blah blah blah, luckily she and my father had managed to smooth his ruffled feathers, blah blah blah. “He’ll be calling you this afternoon.” Wait, what? “I expect you to answer, no excuses.”

“I’m working, Mother,” I glared out the window at the alley it overlooked. “And while you and Father can’t seem to fathom it, my work is actually important. Not only to me,” I closed that potential loophole before she could attempt it. “I’ll answer his call if it comes in at a convenient time, for me.” I told her goodbye before she could start in again, reminding her once again that I was working.

“You seem rather,” Frenchie offered as I sat back down to get back to work with a sigh. “Upset.” That was one word for it. “The weekend wasn’t pleasant?”

Some parts were amazing, I thought, others not so much. “Any time I have to deal with my parents is trying, Frenchie,” offering this as I picked up the file I had been working on I went back to it. Hoping that the rest of my day wouldn’t slide further downhill.

I gave Frenchie and Kimiko free reign for their lunch while I ordered in, telling them to have their pick call me so I could cover the cost. Taking the more comfortable visitor chair, I was still working on a few files when a knock came to the door that I assumed signified lunch had arrived. Finishing the few notes I’d been making, I finally answered, and glared up at the man himself. Billy fucking Butcher. Damn it.

“Ronnie,” he said, my body blocking him from entering my office. “Gonna move a bit so I can-”

“Nope,” I said with a tilt of my head. “Frenchie and Kimiko are my workers today and they’re at lunch, you’ve been replaced.” His eyes narrowed and I felt a tad victorious. Serves him right, I thought, shifting our routine to others without so much as a heads up to me.

“Replaced? I’ve been replaced?” He stepped forward, pushing himself into my personal space. “I think you and I both know, Doc, that there’s no replacing me.” His eyes trapped mine and I wanted to- I don’t know what I wanted to do. Slap him? Kiss him? Both? “Let me in.”

“Fine,” I bit out, stepping back and his eyes landed on my toes.

I’d changed the polish after he’d left, and depending on where the light struck them, the colors changed. His gaze roamed from my newly painted nails up my body to back to my face. And then his hands were around my waist and he was shutting my door behind us as he pushed me further into my office. I opened my mouth to tell him that the barbarian tactic wasn’t going to work when he lifted me onto my desk and his mouth captured mine. The burn of his beard, the flick of his tongue, and I forgot why I was so pissed at him. At least for a moment.

“I had a few things to take care of this morning,” he breathed when he took a pause to take a breath. “I thought having Frenchie and Kimiko help out would keep us on track with the files.” His fingers were sliding along my bare arms peeking out from my short sleeved blouse. Then they found the buttons along the front and started flicking them open as his mouth took a trip down my neck. “I think you got the wrong idea, Ronnie.”

His mouth was tempting the skin he was baring slowly to his view, and I fought against the urge to close my eyes and fall into the feelings. Half the fun with Billy was watching. “I wouldn’t have,” my voice half moan half whisper, “if you’d fucking told me.”

He nipped the curve of my breast and chuckled as I lurched into his touch. “Not used to answering to someone about my whereabouts, Veronica, I’ll have to-” and then his tongue flicked against my nipple through the lace of my bra and I gasped loud enough to fear Anthony heard it at his desk. “Fuck, too long,” and then his mouth met mine again and we almost got back to the swing of things, so to speak, but a knock came to my door and Anthony was saying he had my lunch. Fuck. Billy growled into my mouth, but when my stomach answered him he pulled away, eyes twinkling. “Hungry, Ronnie?”

I was no doubt a fucking mess on the desk. Blouse hanging open, I had no doubt that his beard and mouth had left traces of how he’d been reminding me of his overnight at my house, and I knew my lipstick was gone since I could see hints of it on his lips. I wasn’t sure I could stand, I was so overcome with want, need, and fucking hunger.

“I’ll grab it for you, but you might want to-” he gestured at the state of my clothing and I rolled my eyes. “Turn away from the door, he’ll never know.” I did, and was fixing my shirt when I looked up and saw the reflection of me in the full wall of windows. Shit, I closed my eyes, praying that Billy’s bulk would keep Anthony from seeing his boss completely undone.

#Billy Butcher x ofc #the boys #Mild smut #alternate universe

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im-a-writer-sometimes · 6 years ago

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Sorry (Spencer Reid x reader)

Request: Hello, do you have the request open? If so, I would like to ask for one, where Spencer is a boyfriend of Hotch's daughter, and all of Foyet's situation happens, and for various reasons Spencer did not say goodbye to her, so he did not know they were going to leave. I would like it to be angsty, but then everything goes well and they meet again. or if you want to do it more angsty, instead of Hayley, it is the reader who dies, Spencer sees her. that as you decide, thanks -@awesomemikaus

Warnings: death, language

A/N: I'm sorry it took me, like, twelve years to get to this request. I kept meaning to rewatch this particular episode and I kept forgetting about it. Anyway, here it is.

(this is based on 5×9, "100")

---

"How's Haley holding up?" Reid asked.

"Just about as terribly as you would imagine," you answered, clutching the phone tighter in your hand.

"And Jack?"

"He still thinks we're on some fun trip. He's just glad to be skipping school."

Reid let out a half-hearted chuckle and you let yourself smile.

"How's my dad?" You asked, your voice getting softer.

"He's doing... well, not great. But he's going to find Foyet, okay? And then we can go back to spending movie nights together and you can go back to your classes that you pretend to hate. And you can rant to me about your shitty professors. And we can be normal. This'll be over soon, okay? It'll all be over soon."

---

You were currently holding Jack in your arms, your eyes fixed on Haley's anxious frame. You whispered to Jack, trying to distract him from whatever was bothering your former step-mom. Out of nowhere, you saw her drop her phone in the trash, turning to you and Jack.

"Haley, what's going on?"

"We need to leave," she said, the words stumbling out of her mouth. "We need to go now."

"Haley, what's wrong?"

"Aaron is..." She glanced at Jack nervously, then just shook her head. "Come on. Marshall Kassmeyer has been compromised, we need to go now."

Your eyes widened and you nodded, following Haley as she rushed down the street.

---

"Haley, what are we doing in our old neighborhood?" You asked, arms gripping the armrest of Haley's car.

She didn't answer, and you tensed when she turned onto a familiar street. Your old house came into view and you furrowed your brows.

"Haley, why are we here?"

"He said it was the last place he would look," she mumbled as she pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. She immediately got out of the car, beckoning for Jack to follow. You hesitantly trailed behind her, towards the house you used to call home.

---

"Haley looks good with dark hair," Foyet mused. "She's lost some weight. Probably from all the stress you've caused her."

Hotch seethed silently on the other side of the phone.

"Where's the little guy? Oh, there he is. And there's your lovely daughter. Isn't she a sight for sore eyes?"

Hotch suddenly didn't care about red lights or traffic laws. All he could think about was his family.

Meanwhile, Reid was listening in, his heart hammering a million miles a minute. He kept picturing you. You smiling or laughing at some stupid remark he made. You dancing around while cooking pancakes. You singing along to some random Broadway tunes.

He had never really had room in his life for a god, but at that moment, he said the closest thing he could manage to a prayer.

---

You were seated on the couch, eyes trained on the man in your living room. He was playing chess with Jack, a crooked smirk on his ugly-ass face.

"Foyet?"

You heard your dad's voice echo through the room.

"Aaron, it's me."

You looked up to catch Haley's anxious expression, but quickly trained your eyes back on the man. You wanted to watch his every move and make sure he didn't lay a finger on Jack. If he tried to, you weren't sure that you could stop him, but you could at least try your best.

Soon enough, Jack was up and gone. Headed upstairs to 'work the case'. You knew what that meant. And you were suddenly smug. Because this asshole didn't. You may be four million steps behind in every other area, but you suddenly felt like you were one step ahead. He wouldn't lay a hand on Jack. You would make sure of it.

Suddenly Foyet was standing up, walking towards Haley. You were on your feet in seconds, standing between her and the monster walking towards her.

"I want him to know that you weren't always so serious," Haley said from behind you, voice cracking.

"No," you said, turning to look at her. "That sounds like a goodbye. This isn't a goodbye."

"Isn't it?" Foyet asked, cocking his head. "Have you not realized what going to happen, Y/N."

"Y/N," you heard your dad's voice. "You should know that Spencer is listening in on this call. He can hear you."

You turned towards Haley and she looked at you sympathetically.

"Spence? I love you, okay. I have always loved you. And I know that sounds like a goodbye, but it's not. I promise I'll see you again. But know I love you. And you too, dad. I love you so much."

"Oh, Y/N. You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." And with that, the sound of gunshots echoed through the house.

---

Spencer's heart stopped. Everything was in slow motion. The cars around him were moving a mile an hour and the tear trickling down Morgan's cheek was moving as slow as molasses. He could hear his pulse thrumming in his ears.

Then, suddenly, everything was sucked back into reality and he was in a speeding car again, next to a man holding back sobs.

He kept hearing the gunshots echoing through his head. He kept hearing your words.

I love you so much.

I have always loved you.

By the time Morgan came to a halt in the street outside the house, Reid was racing out of the car, not even bothering to close the passenger door. He pushed past the EMT's and his eyes scanned the room. Not a sign of you. He stumbled around, following a trail of bloody footprints.

Until there you were.

Laying on the carpet of the upstairs hallway.

Spencer sank to his knees beside you, feeling desperately for a pulse.

Nothing.

He tried again, thinking maybe he had missed it.

Still nothing.

His eyes found yours. Cold and empty, fixed on the ceiling above you. With shaking hands, he reached for your face, closing your eyes with his trembling fingers.

Then it hit him.

Like a fucking freight train.

You were dead.

He collapsed, his head laying on your stomach as he sobbed, cries wracking through his body. He clutched onto you, bringing your limp frame impossibly close to him. He cradled your head in his hands, watching the color slowly drain from your face.

"I love you so much. I love you so, so much," he mumbled through sobs.

Soon enough, Morgan found him, clinging to your body. He had encountered death and trauma many times in his life, but he had no idea what to say to his friend, falling apart right in front of him.

So, he placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder and uttered the first words that tumbled out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #bau #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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