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myloveforhergoeson · 3 months ago

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A Pop Tiger exclusive - The first look inside Roxanne Somerset's highly anticipated first solo album brand new eyes:

Pop Tiger's finest sat down with the singer-songwriter on the eve of her album release to chat all things music and get the ultimate track-by-track breakdown from the rocker herself.

Written by: Beatriz Fuentes // June 10th, 2010

(covers highly inspired by @partiallypearl <3)

Seventeen-year-old Roxanne Somerset, daughter of two-time Grammy Award winner and frontman of Dec and the Desires, Declan Somerset, anxiously paces around the top floor of Rocque Records in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, taps at the screen to check the time, and lets out a sigh uncharacteristic of those about to reach their first major career milestone.

Q: Expecting a message from someone?

A: *Dry laughter* Not really... More like wishful thinking. But, you've got my full attention - I promise.

Roxanne, or Roxy as she prefers to be called, slips her phone back into her pocket and sits at the end of the long white couch in the lounge area she brought me to, smiling.

Q: Would you mind sharing some of what's going through your head right now? Not many of us can imagine how it feels to release such a personal project to the world.

A: It's honestly hard to describe. Most of it is settling right in the middle of my chest, like butterflies. I'm excited for sure, but I'm definitely going to have to stay offline for a little while until all the hype dies down. Some parts get a little bit messy and the thought of backlash is worrying, but I know my truth. Love or hate the album, I don't need to know how anyone else feels about it. What's most important is the story I want to tell; That's all I'm looking to achieve with my music.

Q: Messy?

A: I've got songs about four separate guys on this one... So, yeah. Messy. But the good kind of messy! The kind that makes these songs so fun to perform with thousands of people screaming the words back to me.

Q: Your first world tour starts in just a few days, are you all packed and ready to go?

A: For the most part! I'm certainly rehearsed out and getting the music, stage, and production equipment in order was enough to make me consider staying home altogether. But, I've lived out of a suitcase practically my entire life until I relocated to L.A. last year. I've just got to remember what that was like and get my wardrobe in order...

Roxy looks down to the floor, threading her fingers together.

A: And, of course, I've got to say goodbye to my friends for a bit. That's going to be the hardest part, I think. My tour ends here in town though, so I'll be able to see them again in a few months. They've all gotten an advance copy of the album, so they better know all the f-ing words.

Q: Circling back to the album, our Pop Tiger readers are eager to hear about it directly from the source. We were hoping to get a track-by-track breakdown; The good, the bad, and the...

Glancing up, the bright lights make her green eyes shine.

A: The messy? I can give you messy. If we want to start with the first song, 'Are You Impressed?' I'm not ashamed to say that one is about my father. It's no secret that Declan is a talented musician - I've learned so much from him, and his connections to the music industry helped me reach where I am today. That being said, the role music plays in his life has greatly affected our interactions over the years.

Admittedly, Roxy's answer shocked me. Not many songwriters are so open about who their songs are about, especially when, like she mentioned earlier, there was potential for backlash.

A: After being in the industry for so long, his taste as evolved to an incredibly high standard. One that *air quotes* 'amateur' writers often never achieve - his words, not mine - so the lyrics reflect that. He's made it clear that the pop-rock songs I write don't do it for him, and for a while, that really killed me, as a musician and as a daughter. It was only until recently I realized I needed to stop chasing his approval and this song became the end result. I found myself trying to impress him with my songs when he wouldn't bat an eye in my direction, so the title reflects the question I kept asking when I was first starting out. Now, it's just a reminder that the only person I need to impress is myself. I'm not interested in following his lead.

The look on my face must have given away my emotions, and the singer-songwriter let out a small chuckle.

A: Don't worry, he won't f-ing read this. I can say whatever I want about him and he'd never, ever know.

Q: Do most of the other songs on the album reflect these feelings?

A: Nah. Just that first one is about Declan - the rest are about other people in my life who have shaped me into the person I am today. For instance, 'we don't talk about it' is a song I wrote after the whole thing I had with Mag McAllister of Brand New Day. Ugh... The media had a field day with that one.

For the beginning of her musical career, Roxy had been in a band of her own design called Brand New Day, founded in 2007. The "thing" she's referring to with lead singer and guitarist, Mag McAllister, went down in February of 2009.

A: Growing up in the shadow of a spotlight was one thing, I didn't really mind the constant cameras while I traveled around the world with my dad because they were usually focused on him. But, fast forward to the beginning of my teen years, I started a band just like he did, and suddenly they're all pointed at me and my friends. As a result, some embarrassing songs I wrote at fourteen got caught on tape and well... Avid tabloid readers know the rest of that story. That d-bag took one look at the most personal song I'd ever written and laughed right in my face about it. Like, who does that? *Laughter*

Q: And that was the catalyst for your solo career, correct?

A: Yup! I already had one man in my life treating me like an afterthought, so I wasn't interested in going through all that again. Kissed Mag's a- goodbye, moved out to Los Angeles permanently, and began to settle into the life I wanted to live. 'we don't talk about it' reflects my feelings about the situation as they were happening in the moment, when I looked into my future and wondered what the band dynamic would look like after that. I was so tired of thinking 'what if things were different?' without realizing I was the one who needed to initiate that change, so, I left Brand New Day. Little did I know that would lead to Mag digging his own f-ing grave.

Q: I assume you're referring to the theft scandal and plagiarism lawsuit you brought against him in March?

Before I even finished my question, Roxy cracked a smile, covering her mouth with her hands as she began to giggle so hard she doubled over. She could barely get out the answer to my question.

A: That stupid f-ing idiot...! The cameras caught it all...! Him taking my journal, recording my songs...! And trying to pass them off as his own...! God, I know boys are dumb but he's got to be the dumbest of all. My favorite part was how he constantly contradicted himself during the hearings; Nothing he said ended up making a lick of sense, and I got to watch as his career went down in flames. The next song 'fire' is all about that. Certainly one of the best times I'd had in the recording booth. The lyrics to that one just poured out of me... I think it only took 15 minutes to have the shell of the song done before I went in for the guitar.

Our other friend Dani Huron left the BND after that- they're doing their own solo work now, too, if anyone was wondering, and it's going to be exceptional when it comes out at the end of this year - as they'd had no idea Mag was lying to them about where all the songs from BND's sophomore album came from, leaving Mag running back home with his tail between his legs.

Dani Huron, the drummer of Roxy's former band Brand New Day, has been teasing their own solo work over the last few weeks. Roxy's given us a clue as to when Pop Tiger readers should be on the look out for their album!

Q: A few of your ScuttButts from this time had gone mega-viral... A personal favorite of mine being 'mag makes me realize that i could and should be hating harder.' At first glance, this attitude doesn't really match the softer image of this album cover. What was the inspiration behind the design?

A: Well, I was practically born in the middle of a punk concert mosh pit thanks to my dad. I bark and I bite, but that doesn't mean I can't be vulnerable and share feelings besides those of anger and defiance. It's my own special version of non-conformity; Releasing an album with the sounds of punk and rock with lyrics more tied to traditional pop. The image of me on the cover was taken by my good friend, Logan Mitchell, during one of my first weeks in L.A. *Pointing down the hall* Right there!

Where Roxy is pointing, from the highest point of the Rocque Records skyscraper, the rest of Los Angeles looks so small.

Logan Mitchell is one of four members of the boy band Big Time Rush. We at Pop Tiger are some of their biggest fans! As we all know, Roxy is, too.

A: I honestly just thought it looked cool, mostly, but the photo was also taken the day I met the person the next few songs are about when the boys and I were just d-ing around with the camera. They were having a Pop Tiger photoshoot, actually, if my memory serves me right. And that day, and the few months after that, I learned I really know how to pick guys...

He - I won't say his name, but it rhymes with Zac Efron - and I ended up meeting by chance that day when we double-booked Studio B to do some recording. Apparently, I really love dudes who want nothing to do with me, because I found out a few months into our relationship he'd been seeing someone else behind my back the whole time. Both 'don't forget' and 'distracted' traversed into my feelings about that... mostly because I did feel like he'd completely forgotten we were together and he was too busy with himself to even think about me. That should have been the first sign I suppose, and the second should have been when he stood me up at one of BTR's parties, but what can I say? I suppose I was a glutton for punishment. *Laughter*

Q: You were?

The singer nodded, confirming her answer.

A: Well, we've only talked about the first half of the album... Chock full of songs about my issues with others... But the back half? That's mostly full of love songs... Perfectly spliced in between with a rock anthem 'riot' I wrote and recorded with my best friend Lucy Stone. If you guys haven't checked her first album out yet, God, you're missing out. She's one talented chick.

Though Pop Tiger has been reaching out to Lucy Stone for an interview, the punk rocker has denied every single invitation. She seems to be at the top of Roxy's recommendation list!

A: I don't think I can sing her praises enough if I'm being honest. To say that I'm lucky to have found her in this town of a few million people is an understatement. She helped me find my voice again after the BND break up; I'd been writing primarily pop songs - which I love just as dearly - but when she came to me one day proposing we write something together this punk song practically poured out of me. It was nice to return to my roots after being away for a while and ended up inspiring the sound of a few of the other songs on here. Just like the song says, she and I love to riot! I don't think I've ever seen anyone go harder on stage than she does, she's like a whirlwind of art, destruction, and chaos up there. I think I've performed more surgeries on her guitars than a doctor does on their patients...

Q: Should we be on the look out for more collaborations between the two of you in the future?

A: Oh, absolutely. Lucy's an absolute dream to work with. Now that we're going to have our riot grrl song out in the world, I've gotta see if I can coax a love song out of her on her next album...

It was hard to miss the way Roxy's eyes widened as her sentence trailed off.

A: N-not because she's seeing anyone, right now, just because - That's what I've primarily been writing these days. Um...

Her cheeks flushed.

A: [If you're reading this magazine] You already know. He and I made the front cover like three times over the seven months we've been together. I had to send my darling, Camille Roberts, an apology for the last cover apperance. It was like prom all over again... *Mumbling* F- this is so embarrassing. He's much better at talking about it.

In October of last year, Pop Tiger had the privilege of breaking the news that Roxy Somerset and rising pop star James Diamond of Big Time Rush were officially a couple after months of unconfirmed rumors. They were featured as our cover story in November 2009, February 2010 for the Valentine's Day edition, and again, last month, May 2010 when they were crowned 'Cutest Couple' by our readers!

A: Anyway, hi, babe, if you're reading this. Sorry about 'that's what you get.' *Laughing*

Q: An apology for a love song?

A: It wasn't one when I first wrote it, if I'm being honest. It came from another place of hurt because I thought I'd been dumb enough to let another guy play me... Turns out I held some of the blame for the situational misunderstanding too. But now, to me, the lyrics that had been penned in a sort of sarcastic 'that's what you get...' tone have taken on a new meaning. As in, that is what I get because it led to something I want. I'd do it again and again too, if I had to do it over, because I know what the outcome ended up being. So... While the lyrics may not sound very lovey, the message you get from reading between the lines makes it lovey to me. The rest of them are pretty self-explanatory though! 'hot' because duh... and 'where the lines overlap' talks about our joint rising fame and how lucky we are to have found each other.

At this point, Roxy was covering her face with her hands, her voice slightly muffled, making it difficult to decipher what she was saying as she shook her head. From my recording of the interview, I believe it was, "He said that one's his favorite. "

Q: From the recording [Gustavo Rocque] sent to Pop Tiger, it sounded like the penultimate song 'bright' was quite the departure from your usual style. Was there anything in particular that led to adding an acoustic song to your pop-rock album?

A: Ooh, you did your research. That's such a good question.

I feel like, anyone who really knows me and my musical style and preference can guess pretty quickly that I don't traditionally f- with slow, acoustic songs. However, the place that inspired me to write this cosmic-themed, raw, emotional song - Griffith Observatory - would only let me write in the facility if I used my acoustic guitar, not my electric. Which is all well and good, writing on the acoustic is no big deal, and I usually hit the studio right when I'm done with my lyrics and melodies to translate it into electric if needed. When I tried that for 'bright' the rock version didn't capture the same innocence and vulnerability the original had been forged over. So, I had to set aside my slow song grudge for this one... And everyone gets to see a new musical side of me!

Q: It's certainly a welcome new side, but the final song brings us right back to traditional Roxanne! How did 'she's so gone' end up taking the final slot?

A: Because we needed a d- break from all these boys...! It is my first album after all. *Laughter* There should probably be a song about me on there. This was another one that came easy to me and, shockingly enough, was the last song I wrote for the album. Originally, it ended with 'bright' but 'she's so gone' just came to me one afternoon while I was taking in the idea of an album of my own design being shared with the world. It's kind of like a promise to myself, in a strange way. I don't want to go back to being the person I was a few years ago, letting myself get walked over, avoiding conflict for the sake of others, not being my authentic self. This is my life and I'm going to live it on my terms!

Roxanne Somerset's debut album brand new eyes is available now!

#thats all she wrote fic #tasw edit #and for you... some rockstar roxy content <3

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sheepwithspecs · 7 months ago

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Echar Agua al Mar: Chapter 1

|| DP Coco (2017) || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

For Imelda, trying to prevent Héctor from coming back into her life is like throwing water into the sea: pointless. With her family keen to accept the strange musician, and a challenge she can hardly refuse, she soon finds herself caught up in the continuation of a romance decades in the making. [Updates every Saturday]

Author's Note:

A lot of people wanted this one back, so I took the time to sit down and rewrite it properly. I plan on writing a proper ending, but it will be finished as-is (with no added chapters). I don't plan to write anything else for the DP-Coco fandom, so please accept this reworked fic as a celebration of my short, but meaningful time here. As roughly as it ended, I still would not trade those years for the world. I met some of the best people in that fandom, many of which I am still in contact with as friends and mutuals.

I want to take the time to thank each and every reader who has reached out over the years asking about this fic (as well as other DPC fics). The fact that you remember my work fondly means more to me than words can really describe. I wanted to finish this for you, so it's my fervent hope that you enjoy it just as much, if not more, as you enjoyed the original WIP. Please don't stop reaching out, either! In this day and age, it's rare to get reviews on fics anymore. If there's something you enjoyed, no matter how small, I promise that it would make my day to hear it!

The Rivera family was in distress.

Before the last Día de Los Muertos, they had been perfectly content with their lives—if a skeletal soul could indeed be called "living". They had a certain pride in being the best shoemakers in the Land of the Dead, and in death they worked much as they had in life: hard. But now production had slacked off unexpectedly; the twins fulfilled the quota of only one man, Julio made more mistakes in one hour than he had in nearly twenty years, Rosita polished at a tortoise's speed, and even Victoria made simple errors, growing frustrated as she was forced to thread and rethread her needle.

If Mamá Imelda saw them, she might have gloated that her ban on music was well and just. It was music—or the lack of it—that kept the family working at a plodding pace. They'd had a taste of the tunes, a bite of the proverbial apple, and now they were tempted for more. They heard rhythm in the steady ringing of the twins' hammers, in the swish-swish of Victoria's needle, in the scrubbing of Rosita's polishing brush. The Rivera harmony, so easy to recognize, to hum along to… if they weren't in the habit of suppressing those same urges.

But the family matriarch was nowhere to be found downstairs, and could not scold their behavior from the living quarters on the second floor. It was early afternoon, and so Imelda was in her bedroom, hiding… though no one would have dared suggest such a thing within earshot.

"Mamá Imelda can't blame us now," Julio murmured. "Not when she herself sang at the Sunrise Spectacular. In front of everyone, too." It was a conversation they'd repeated over and over again for three months.

"It's true," Oscar added. "She sang again, and so beautifully! But if she heard us…." He was irritated, more with himself than with his older sister. He hated working as though he were a greenhorn cobbler. If he could only finish the day's quota, he could spend the rest of the afternoon tinkering on inventions with his twin. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop his foot from tapping along in time with his hammer.

"Then let her hear us," Victoria huffed, squinting over the rims of her spectacles. The needle was mere inches from her eye sockets, shaking slightly as she aimed. "Maybe that will be what makes her come downstairs for a change."

"She won't." Felipe looked over his shoulder, shaking his skull at his great-niece. "Not so early in the afternoon. Not before…" he trailed off, gazing pointedly at the clock just above her elegant bun.

"And so? Why not sing?" Victoria lifted her eyes from her work, pushing the spectacles up her skull with one dainty finger. "If there's no danger of her coming down." She sighed as the twins shook their heads in unison. "Oh, if my mamá could see us now. She'd have a good laugh at us all."

"Ah, he's coming!" Rosita announced suddenly, rising from her chair at the window. She let the unfinished shoe in her hand fall to the table, the brush tossed aside as she raced for the door. Everyone paused in their work, following Felipe's eyes towards the clock.

"Right on schedule," Julio said with a smile. "By the way, what will today's excuse be? The corner store?"

"No, we used that one yesterday."

"A walk?"

"We used that one two days ago." They stared at one another with growing concern, each racking their brain for some useful idea. Finally Rosita shook her head, shrugging helplessly at Julio. He blew out a low breath, hands stuck deep into his pockets.

"You say something," Oscar muttered, elbowing his brother in the ribs.

"Why me?" Felipe gulped. "You know I can't think under pressure!"

"Neither can I!"

"I'll say something." Victoria stood as well, brushing bits of thread from her apron. The twins sighed in relief, dropping their hammers simultaneously to the workbench as everyone in the room turned towards the open door in anticipation of their daily visitor. A moment later, there was a self-conscious knock as a man stepped just past the threshold. He was dressed in ragged clothing—espantapájaros, Victoria often muttered under her breath—with his sleeve barely hanging by a thread and shoeless as the day he was born. His gold tooth glinted in the afternoon sunlight as he grinned sheepishly, his hat clutched in nervous hands.

"Hello, Héctor," the Riveras chanted in unison, the start of their new daily routine.

"Hello, everyone." The hat brim began its revolution as Héctor's anxious fingers began to twist. "I've come to… I mean: is Imelda at home today?" The twins shared a sympathetic wince. Rosita's fingers clacked against her cheekbones as she raised her hands to her face. Victoria looked around the room, adjusted her glasses, and scowled.

"This has gone on long enough!" she declared, ignoring the shocked gasps from the rest of the family. "Of course she's here! She's been here every day for as long as you've been coming."

"Ahaha… I, uh… I thought that might be the case." Héctor sighed, looking down at his bare feet. "There's only so many times someone might go to the markets, after all." He looked so pitiable, dashed hopes and guilt and shame, standing in their doorway like a beggar searching for alms. Rosita clucked and guided him to her empty chair, inviting him in properly now that Victoria had broken the routine.

Héctor had given them all of a month before showing up out of the blue, hoping to speak with his wife. Of course, they had all been under strict orders after day one to not let him inside. If he asked, they were supposed to offer some excuse as to why Imelda was not downstairs with the rest of the family. Every afternoon she avoided the workshop like the plague, waiting until he had come and gone before venturing downstairs to complete her portion of the day's work.

This left the rest of the family with no choice but to scramble and find sixty days' worth of excuses to feed him, along with their best what-can-be-done expressions. They would have much rather invited him in, treated him as one of their own, and marched him up to Imelda's room without a word of protest. But the family matriarch's orders overruled any personal attachment to Héctor. At least, it had… until today.

"So." Héctor placed his hat on the table, linking his fingers politely in his lap. "She asked you to cover for her."

"She did," Victoria answered for them, "but this is getting out of hand."

"Even though you knew we were lying, and that Imelda didn't want to see you… you still came every day?" Oscar asked curiously, running a finger over his thin mustache. Héctor managed a one-sided shrug, smiling sadly. "That's pretty stubborn of you."

"Imelda's just as stubborn as you, though," Felipe pointed out, leaning against the workbench. "She won't come downstairs. Not even if you come every day for the next century."

"Victoria?" Julio waved his hand in his daughter's face, a frown twisting his mustache. "Go upstairs and ask Mamá Imelda to come down. For your Papá Héctor's sake."

"No! No, don't bother her. If she doesn't want to see me, then…." Héctor stood quickly, scratching at his thin goatee before offering them a much happier smile. "Tell me, how much would I have to pay for a pair of genuine Rivera boots?"

"What?!" Rosita shook her head in dismay. "What on earth are you talking about? You're family, of course they'd be free—" Oscar and Felipe immediately bent, each studying one of his feet.

"Come now, I'm willing to pay something—"

"No, Héctor." Julio crossed his arms. "Rosita's right. Family doesn't pay for shoes. But, eh…." He glanced warily at Victoria. "What do you think Mamá Imelda will have to say?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. You can leave her to me-e-e—!" Héctor jerked his foot away from Oscar, the appendage flopping loosely as he hopped off-balance. "Hey, watch it! That tickles!"

"But—"

"Listen: Imelda is your mamá. Of course you will do as she says, and don't ask questions. That's the way it should be. But she's my Imelda." His eyes twinkled. "I know how to deal with her. You can leave that to me. I just thought that since I have no plans to stop visiting my family, I might as well have a proper excuse of my own." He leaned in, motioning for them to join him. They huddled around him, close enough that their heads were nearly touching.

"As far as you're concerned," he whispered, "I've given up on seeing Imelda. I've accepted that she doesn't want to see me. And if you do see us together, just… y'know." He smiled again, but this time the expression was far more playful. "She's my wife, isn't she? Act natural."

"Natural?" Oscar parroted, only to get thumped on the skull. "Oh, right! Natural!" They all chuckled, save for Victoria's modest headshake. Héctor nodded and they broke apart.

"I'm sure boots take quite a while to make, yes?" He asked in a much louder tone, directing his voice towards the stairs. "Especially custom boots for your Papá Héctor!"

"You're right!" Julio agreed just as loudly, winking at Rosita. "Custom boots take a very long time!"

"Yes! Weeks!" Rosita giggled.

"Then I'll leave you all," Héctor nearly shouted, taking his hat and waving it with a flourish, "to your work!" As he jammed the hat on his head, there was a soft sound… almost like the rustling of skirts at the head of a grand staircase.

"Come back tomorrow for a proper sizing," Victoria advised, one eye on the stairs. "That way, we won't have to second-guess ourselves once we begin."

"Understood!" He winked once more before turning, offering a little wave over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, everyone."

"Adiós, Héctor!" The Riveras waved him out the door, looking at one another before stifling their laughter. If Héctor was volunteering to take the brunt of Imelda's anger, they were more than willing to sneak around and help them any way they could. After all, her mighty arm was often the only thing that kept them in line, and something about Héctor's goofy charm made him hard to resist. Maybe that was what she had meant, blaming him for Miguel's naughtiness on Día de Los Muertos: his mischief was catching.

"It's all right, Mamá!" Julio called at the foot of the stairs. "He's gone now." There wasn't a full thirty seconds of silence before Imelda was among them, eyeing them all suspiciously with her usual motherly intuition.

"It took longer than normal to make him leave this time…." She trailed off expectantly, waiting for someone to explain. Without batting an eye, Victoria took over.

"We ran out of excuses and had to think of something else." It was a lie by omission, but it rang enough of the truth that she felt confident staring directly into her grandmother's eyes. "He stayed because he wanted to order some boots."

"Boots?" Imelda repeated, her mouth pursing in distaste. "What sort of boots?"

"Custom boots," Rosita explained. "He's tired of walking around in his bare feet."

"And you accepted him?" For the first time, Imelda seemed unhappy about a potential sale. "Why? Now he has an excuse to come inside and—anyway, you should have turned him away," she fussed, running both hands over her immaculate hairstyle and patting it into place nervously.

"It's our fault," Oscar spoke up, hands clasped in false penitence. "Felipe and I couldn't turn him down."

"We haven't made a custom order of boots in so long. We were excited, Imelda."

"We didn't think, and he is—"

"—like a brother to us, after all."

"It's not just anyone," Rosita pointed out gently. "It's Papá Héctor. We can't refuse him."

"Papá Héctor?" Imelda groaned. "Since when is he— Never mind." She crossed her arms, staring out the open door. "I can't even blame you for it. A Rivera has never been able to turn away someone in need of shoes. Even if it's him. And it's only for a few more days."

"Maybe a week," Julio corrected her. "Or more. We have a lot of orders…."

"Ay… heaven help me."

Héctor sat at the edge of Shantytown, kicking his feet off the ledge as he thought. People passed by, shouting greetings to him from the docks, but he was far too lost in his own mind to pay much attention. As was the case lately, his thoughts were focused on one goal: Imelda.

Admittedly he was out of practice, and quite rusty when it came to the art of courtship. In the olden days, back when they were alive, it had been more a scheme of getting her to notice him at all. He had even rejected the help of his best friend, afraid that Ernesto might catch her eye before he could ever hope to. That was good: he hadn't needed him then, and certainly didn't need him now.

Most of his ideas for getting back into her good graces were the same as his former exploits: serenading by moonlight, offering her gifts, winning her over with his irresistible charm… he no longer had the dimples she so admired, by he was still quite handsome, if he said so himself.

The real question was: would she ever indulge him?

Probably not at first. He frowned, staring up at the city lights dancing above him. He'd given her a full month, slipping away after the Sunrise Spectacular and biding his time. Imelda could hold a nasty grudge—he had firsthand knowledge of that. Years of bitterness would not disappear overnight, just because they'd had one song together, one small adventure with their living progeny. Before Miguel had come, he'd given up hope of reaching her at all.

But.

That's for murdering the love of my life!

The thwap of the huarache against bone rang over and over in his head: a sound of hope. He was the love of her life! Even all these months later, he still couldn't quite believe it.

I still have a chance. I'm the love of her life.

It was that mentality that had him coming to the Rivera household day after day, standing awkwardly in the doorway and asking to see her. He could tell that the family was willing, even if the woman was not. There was pity in their expressions as they lied to his face, telling him that he'd just missed her, that she'd gone for a walk, or to get more thread, or to deliver a rush order of shoes.

Imelda was a stubborn woman, that was for sure. But he was a stubborn man. Year after year he'd gone to that dumb bridge, knowing full well that he would not be able to cross. Compared to that, romancing his own estranged wife would be a piece of cake! He planned it out in his head, days of shoemaking and nights of wooing. She'd be begging him to stay within the month. Maybe. Hopefully.

It was a foolproof plan… so long as she didn't call for Pepita.

#fanfiction #my writing #dp coco #coco #disney pixar coco #imelda x héctor #imector #pixar coco

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okiroash · 2 years ago

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I need to ramble about Yomiel real quick (he's been living in my head rent free 💥)

usually I don't like villains who do bad things just because their backstory is tragic but Yomiel is different, he's.. very balanced in both sides? I'm not sure how to describe it

He was literally just some guy, did nothing wrong in his life (except, maybe that hair of his- which I am quickly growing fond of)

It all spiraled when he accepted a job to help them organize the nation's secrets

But then he got accused of being spy and was threatened to ruin his life for a statement (it drove him into hopelesness.

he shouldn't have taken the gun, but it was his only 'light' at that time..

Now- from an outsider perspective one would think "oh what the fuck, why did you take her hostage" ..and hm. I still think like this LOL

but desperation and panic can influence one's behaviour, how it becomes hard to think reasonably.. especially when time is running out FAST. doesn't excuse what he did but I think it's important to know what led him to do this

And then.. oh god, him having to see his fiancee die because she wants to be with him. His cruel fate didn't let him into the afterlife (Yomiel mentioned this which either means:

1. When he didn't exactly die from the meteor shard, he knew he couldn't

Or 2. It might be that he has tried....to be with his fiancee (it didn't work))

(The fact it was mentioned that she had just died recently, knowing that if he had arrived sooner she would still be alive. That shit hurts)

yomiel only has his cat for support, a recently dead man can't have human friends. It would only lead to trouble (I mean, a guy who died from a meteor is unnatural, the news is probably in everyone's newspaper)

And it keeps. getting. WORSE. He lost his human functions! (Yomiel says this but I can't remember when) he cannot feel touch (in chapter 15 we can see him uneffected by pain) and we can guess to an extend: smell, taste, and everything else

Just numbness and loneliness, his last few moments of life was hopeless and pain.. his "unlife" is even more awful (this man can't catch a break huh?)

Imagine living like that for such a long time.. and knowing nothing will change. that he will forever spent an eternity like this.. that's bound to make anyone lose their sanity (and he most likely had lost a lot of them)

It makes sense why he was so.. angry and vengeful, he was an innocent man dragged into this. He loaths his unlife so much that he despises everything that had led him to this fate, he ends up hating the girl too (because she was there, giving him an option to take her as hostage) [<- trying to understand his perspective.. it sounds a little less selfish now, but still! not cool yomiel!]

But most importantly of why he's reaaaally angry, is because he thinks the death of his fiancee was caused by them

(Dialogues where he mentions her)

1. In the submarine with lynne

The way he tried to ignore it.. T_T

2. Coversation with jowd

Again, he avoided it.. only responding with silence

yomiel is wrong hurting many people and blaming lynne too, but when you've spent years (10 YEARS. 120 months. 3652 days. 87660 hours) without human connection.. soul welling up with negative emotions.. do you think you can still feel empathy towards other human beings? after all the things that happened as well?

(Maybe- but if it was me I'd be too blinded by hate, and that's probably what yomiel feels too.. ah of course his dwindling sanity only made it worse)

So when Lynne sympathize with him, cried for him, he DECIDED his revenge was over

One of the reasons of his revenge, He wanted them to feel the same pain as him ..and they did, he finally felt understood

but also. I'd like to think it's because she gave him a human connection, a connection to the living, something he hadn't felt for a long time and it came from the person he sees as an enemy

he wasn't really a bad guy, he's a man messed up in the head because of all his upbringings, lynne gave him a reminder of what it's like to have someone (and it must have been so lonely, after losing his only friend at that night)

Again- Yomiel is still accountable for the crimes he committed, it's just the events that made him become like this is so.. understandable

In the end we can't really fault any of them, I guess you can say cabanela (because he was the one who interrogated him and left the gun there)

But who would've thought that there will be a meteor crashing into the park? It's all is just really. Really. Unfortunate

It genuinely delights me so much that this man is actually getting mentally better

He most likely have guilt complex but I'm sure he'll be able to let go of it since most of his actions were undone in the new timeline

#💭...#wow! another character I'm hyperfixating on who had done bad. feel guilty over it. and now doing good!#there are probably some grammar errors here and there but whatever #yomiel

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wordsfromawiltingsoul · 9 months ago

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍 | 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

you are a language i am no longer fluent in, but still remember how to read. your laughter echoes against my skull on nights i can't sleep. i watch the memory of you walk past me, and grow blurrier with each second. i don't remember the way you walked, or how you described love, but i know your smile. i know the glisten in your eyes i now see in your sister's. i am haunted by you when you are not here. i have not seen you since last april. i've yet to forgive myself for what i promised you i would become but i am not. i taste the dirt of your grave in my dreams and i wonder if i can bury myself in weeds. cold hands and fingers squeeze the blood out of my heart, and i see you for a moment, holding out a hand for me.

and how i do forgive myself for the monster i've become when you're not here to tell me i'm not what i think i am? because your gentle embrace isn't here with me. the breeze can't substitute for your voice and the sun can't radiate your warmth. i've forgotten joy for what it was when the flowers bloomed and you beamed. i see flowers and i can smell your lingering happiness that i desperately clung onto. i still wake up with things to tell you, knowing that i've not heard your voice in months. i've forgotten, how you touch, how you speak. i only vaguely remember and even that memory i doubt. because nothing could ever be exactly what you had been.

and i think i laugh like you, but even that i don't know. since you left i've barely known anything. i've floated around the city and looked at the landmarks and i've engraved them in my mind, thinking it would help me stop thinking of you. but your beautiful face comes back to grace every place i've visited and show me some part of you there. so perhaps i would never forget. in the curves i write on my capital letters i think of you.

i hope you don't forget me and all the things we did. i hope death hasn't taken your humanity. i settled you into the dirt and asked it to cover you and let your body return to where it came from gently. i asked the rain to water your roots and let a tree grow in the name of you. i asked earth to love you, because i couldn't do it anymore. when can i say your name and have it only mean your name and not what you left behind? when can i be spared from grief? you told me i wrote grief like it was the loveliest feeling i've ever felt. truth be told, you were the only reason it could've been so.

in the backseat of my mind, i've written poems for you. and how do i mourn the loss of a love i never spoke out loud? one i've never felt with my hands. one i dreamt of, and thats all i did of it. and i miss you more than i remember you. and that hurts. because i want to remember the gentle colour of your eyes and the way the corners crinkled when you smiled too hard. last night i thought i could hear the last dregs of your voice being carried by the breeze. from your grave. and i looked at the moon and said 'thank you'. for letting me hear you again. your voice was growing fainter in a corner of my mind and i feared one day i would wake up and i wouldn't remember the cadence of the words you shared with me.

you were more than a friend to me, you were a part of me. an acceptance that my blood was edged with tragedy. that loving you solidified exactly that. i keep remembering -- and my heart has no pity on me. it aches and sinks lower in my body, but still the pained feelings stay, and they float in my bloodstream. and how do i feel about that? how do i accept that my mind isn't ready to let go of what you made me feel. it's like it's ignoring that there is no outlet anymore, there is nowhere for this love to go, and its piling in my stomach. and it makes me sick. because with it; the lingering remembrance of the fact that you once lived lives on.

you were a script i wanted to forget now, but the play never left my head.

- h.v.

#writing #writeblr #original work #i dont know what im doing #im just dramatic please #writer things #what else do i say

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theogarachnophobe · 1 year ago

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Just the Way Things Grow Chapter 1 part 1

A gay male weight gain story

Preview: When a guy wakes up some place unexpected, his best friend shows up to make sure things change between themBy: overgrownmassiveprince (tumblr)/Arachnophobe (original grommr name)/ Gainerboy 3 (bellybuilders)

Chapter 1

Oh shit, I think to myself, It’s dark in here.

Wait… where is here?

I try to move but something is holding me down. Is something holding me down? I try to turn my head, but I can’t tell if I’m moving. I open my mouth to try to speak but nothing comes out. It feels like cotton is in my mouth. I try to think back.

Where was I last?

What is going on?

Why can’t I move?

Think.

Ethan.

The last thing I remember is Ethan. I worked yesterday, or today, or whenever it was. I got up, Ethan said he was staying home from work. Said he had something to do at home. Mr. Pharmaceutical Rep always had things to do at home lately. I swear that shed he had installed was some kind of top secret spaceship. One day there was a nice plush yard and then the next day we had what could only be described as some kind of tornado, Doomsday bunker installed. “Don’t worry about it,” Ethan said being all coy and suave, “It’s just a place to store some of the prototypes for something the company is working for.”

Over the last few months, Ethan seemed to be out there…

NO! WHAT IS THE LAST THING I REMEMBER?!

Ethan

I worked, Ethan was home, he texted me to go to the gym, that he would meet me there. When I get there, he’s leaning against his car. He is wearing really big clothes. Must be a cardio day, I remember thinking. He tosses me a small shake. Much smaller than what he usually makes me. I make a face. He laughs and says, “Trust me.” I drank it. Chugged it. It tasted good. I can still taste it in my mouth, I struggle to remember.

I drink. He tells me to go get something.

What did I get? Should I call for help?

I open my mouth. I think I do, but nothing comes out. I can feel myself grunting, but then I realize I barely hear myself. It’s like everything is dull.

I try to move my fingers but I can’t. I can’t turn my head.

It’s so dark in here. Why is cold?

I remember getting to Ethan’s car, and bending over into the back seat.

That’s it. I can’t remember what happened next.

Oh, God, I’m dead. I’m dead or dying and I can’t move. We got jumped by someone.

OH SHIT! ETHAN!

I try to scream out again. This time whatever is wrong with me is wearing off. I can hear myself grunting and groaning. I’m not making words. My mouth isn’t opening. I’m not moving my body.

I’m paralyzed! Something happened and

I’m…

“Hey,” comes a voice out of the dark.

“You’re okay.”

I feel a tear come out of the corner of my eyes. It’s warm on my skin. I feel another pour out of my other eye. It’s Ethan. He’s here.

“Don’t try to move, buddy,” Ethan soothes in the dark, “You’ll be able to move soon enough. You just gotta relax. Okay?”

I try to talk but I can’t. I can’t speak.

FUCK, ETHAN! WHAT’S GOING ON? WHERE ARE WE? ARE WE OKAY? ARE YOU OKAY?

I am screaming in my head. I need answers, I have to have answers, I need…

The room brightens a little bit. There is a single bulb in a metal can above my head. It looks industrial. It’s dim but it’s getting brighter. I move my eyes but can’t see any windows or other light. I can’t even move my head. I can just look down the length of my face because I’m lying down. I can’t see anything past the stubble on my cheeks or beyond my nose. My eyes are darting around and I can feel my breathing speed up.

I’m stuck. I’m trapped. Ethan is probably stuck too. I have to figure something out.

And then over walks Ethan.

He looks big. Bigger than usual. More ripped, more muscular. His veins are standing out, and he looks so very sexy. And he’s naked.

My breathing is speeding up for a lot of reasons now. His dick is soft but hangs low. His balls are hidden behind a mound of hair and I swear to all things holy that he never looked this hairy before. His stubble from earlier is a full on beard now. But he’s walking around, and he’s… HE’S NAKED!

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!

#bhm weight gain #make me fat #fat bhm #chubby boy #fatboy #male gaining #exjock #gay belly #mlm #lgbt #chubby #fat belly #fatty #wg #Weight gain #Giants

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

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please use this ask to elaborate on mattsun’s dick <33

AH YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING gotta do this before i start fasting lmfao. this ended up being sadder than i thought, but it just ends up being kinda sweet and sorta hot. also this was way longer than i intended. post in reference.

warnings; big dick mattsun, throwing up, pain kink (?), painful sex, insecurities, consensual taping

okay remember when i mentioned the insecurity thing? let’s dive deeper into that; third years and mattsun are at some sleepover thing. it’s a little before graduation, and they don’t when they’ll see each other next, so they’re trying to make most of the time that’s left. the conversation progresses to sex, as it naturally does, and each of them admits some horrifying or embarrassing sex story.

iwaizumi had sex with a girl who was extremely kinky and asked him to slap her, but— they don’t call him ace for no reason.

oikawa lost his virginity to this girl and she started her period halfway through, but he was really young and didn’t realize that was something that could just happen? it wasn’t that he was immature about it. it was more that he fainted.

hanamaki found out he was allergic to flavored condoms when he lost his virginity, and it was not fun.

but then it was mattsun’s turn, and they’re all waiting for his embarrassing sex story, till he hits them with, “i’ve never had sex though,” and each and every one of their eyes bulge out of their heads. it’s the last thing they’d been expecting from him, from cool, suave, charming mattsun, but he continues to swear by it. and when they demand the reason — surely you’ve gotten the chance to before? — he admits it to them: “apparently my dick is too big.” and it’s comical to say out loud, because he’s only gotten with a handful of girls, barely any for it to be firm hypothesis. he thinks he’ll one day meet someone that doesn’t think it’s too big, it won’t fit, um i can give you a handjob, if that’s okay?

all that evidently leads to a dick comparison, because how big can it really be? and once mattsun sees his best friends’ eyes widen at his hardened dick, it sinks in. shit, he really is big, isn’t he?

“holy shit, mattsun,” makki says, and he’s bashful as he stares at his best friend’s dick. “how would that fit inside anyone?” and mattsun’s already growing soft, tucking his dick back in his pants and moving to wash his hands after kicking makki rightfully in the chest.

college comes around, and he passes by a thousand girls crying about how the boy from last night’s dick was so small, ugh i wish i had an 8 inch, and the things i’d do to have my guts rearranged. he sees a little light in this tunnel of endless blue balling, and meets a girl, takes her back to his dorm with his lips biting at her neck and her hands fumbling with his belt. as soon as he falls onto the bed, as soon as she straddles him, naked, and moves to slip off his trousers, anxiety meets him halfway again, and he holds in a breath as she pulls at the hem of his pants and takes his boxers with her.

the gasp his half hardening cock pulls out of her is confusing. he can’t tell what to make out of it, but she spits on her palm and grips his hefty cock in her small palm, unable to have her fingertips meet. her eyes are wide, but she seems determined, even tilts her hips forward, but she resorts to, “can i just suck you off?”

and mattsun thinks alright, that’s an upgrade.

when she ends up throwing up because she underestimates his size and overestimates herself, mattsun offers her his bathroom to clean up, and grabs her a bottle of water as she leaves.

he ends up losing his virginity to some masochist, and it’s not very memorable or anything he’d ever imagined it be. it sits high on his list of regrets: he cums way too early, and hurts the masochist too much for it to be enjoyable in any way. but he texts the old third year groupchat and types in “i lost my virginity 😎” and receives the praise he had expected.

for months to come, he fucks his fist every other night to amateur porn and watches as some camgirls’ cunts swallow inches and inches of plastic cock. he hooks up with some girls only to have them sit on his face and kitten lick at the head of his cock. some swallow a little bit of his cock, some fondle at his balls, but none ever let him fuck them. oikawa sends him links for sex toys, and mattsun feels as pathetic as ever, but he buys a fleshlight anyways and finds purchase in how tight it feels around his cock, how wet and slippery it is, how it properly milks him dry. makki meets him during a break and offers to suck his dick for him, but mattsun flips him off and kicks at his stomach again.

it’s during his third year that he meets you.

you’re sweet and charming, , and you have pretty hair, and he likes your style, and you laugh at his stupid jokes. you call him handsome, and you call him pretty, and you compliment his hair when it’s at its curliest. you send him the weirdest memes and tell him it reminds you of him, and you pick him up at obscure times because you’re craving nuggets or ice cream or ramen or licorice. he asks you to be his girlfriend and when you say yes, he blushes so forcefully that he has to scrunch up his face to try and hide it. he lets you meet his friends through a screen, and he buys you matching rings because he enjoys the subtlety of it all, and he orders donuts to be sent to your place during your exam week.

being with you is a dream, so much that when he hovers above you, kissing at your lips like he always does and sucking at your neck the way you love, and you murmur that you want him, want all of him, his hands fumble and shake. he tries to hide it, but his breath is shakier and his chest is flushed, his eyes a little hazy. you’re so gentle with him, and he hadn’t known he needed it until you’re straddling him and slowly smoothing your hands down his chest, palming him through his too tight briefs, squeezing softly.

when your hands reach for his briefs, his own snap to your wrist, and he dares to beg, “please stay,” and you kiss him in response. your breath hitches at the sight of him, and your hand shakes when you spit on it and grip at his cock, but despite your initial hesitance you don’t falter.

you stroke tentatively at his cock, squeezing him tightly, and fall closer to him, hovering your lips by his as you ask of him, “stretch me— stretch me for you.”

there’s only one word to describe everything mattsun had been feeling in that moment, and it’s overwhelmed, but it’s somehow in the most positive way. he sits up straight, keeping you on his lap. his fingers find your dripping cunt and he pushes one, two, three, four fingers inside of you. he makes you cum twice, fingers curled and rapidly thrusting into you, other hand occupied with your sloppy clit and mouth latched onto your nipple. you praise him and thank him and cry for him and writhe in his hold as he pleasures you, and when you’re breathless and limp in his arms, he waits for the ball to drop, for you to give into your anxiety and hesitance.

except you don’t.

you lift yourself up on trembling knees, hands settled on and gripping his shoulders, and with teary eyes, you say, no, you beg, “make it fit.”

he has stars in his eyes as he grips his cock tightly with one hand, the other holding you to him by your waist. it’s slow, it’s painfully slow, but mattsun has never treasured time as much as in that moment. he takes in everything, from the way your body tenses at the first intrusion when his tip presses against your hole, to the small gasps and moans as you take more and more of him in, at the sweat that beads at your temple and that rolls between your breasts. he marvels at the heave of your chest and the roll of your tummy as you curve in yourself, and he revels in the press of your lips to his, in the pull your arms looping around his neck and pressing his chest flush to yours.

he does cum too early, but you don’t chastise him. you only continue to ride his soft cock, his cum messily dribbling out, and he ignores the sting from his sensitivity in favor of rubbing at your clit, sending you over the edge eventually.

he texts the old third years groupchat that night again, with you sleeping soundly by his side, comfortable beneath his blankets, “why didn’t you guys tell me sex was this good? fake friends,” and sends a picture of him shirtless, sweaty, and with a post-sex flush to his cheeks and messy curls, with the middle finger.

maybe you shouldn’t have let him have a taste of you, because he fucks you in bed the next morning, sleep still settled deep in your bones, and then he fucks you in the shower, and then he eats you out splayed out on his dinner table. he videotapes you sucking him off, with your permission, and watches it when you’re too far out of reach. he sends you pictures after a shower, gripping his cock through the briefs he’d quickly slipped in, hair wet and curly and matted to his forehead, skin damp and glistening. and when you react so positively, he blushes, to his dismay. you meet his friends and they joke about how you’re still alive, but you brush them off and tell them you’ve never felt more satisfied.

with every single time he watches his cock sink into your warm, tight, sloppy cunt, and every time he watches you swallow around him, and every time he makes you cry and leaves you braindead, leaves you mindless and begging for more, his confidence grows. so much until he learns to be cocky about it, so much that when he barely preps you and pushes into you, he shivers at the way you whine and tense up, at the way you flinch and lightly thrash. because you’re a good girl, aren’t you? always take my cock so well, don’t you? nobody but you, nobody like you.

and it’s true; it’s nobody but you for him. in every single way.

hello what the fuck am i doing. i did not think this was gonna escalate like this hfskjfns but anyways, big dick mattsun for the win <3

#matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #matsukawa x reader #mattsun x reader #matsukawa issei smut #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #sal's thirst tag <3

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | ch 4

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Taglist: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely

Amoretta swam in and out of sleep. Whenever she surfaced, she saw bright lights and strange faces, and, assuming that she was in a HYDRA lab, she decided it was better if she just kept on dreaming. After a while, though, she couldn’t manage it anymore, and she finally woke up enough to actually take in her surroundings.

She was in a hospital bed, and...a gown? She couldn’t remember the last time she had been given clothing. When she tried to move, she found that her arms ached, and she had an IV sticking out of her. Okay, so wherever she was, they were trying to take care of her. Maybe. That seemed like a good sign.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a man’s voice said. “How’re you feeling?”

A figure came into view, blurry at first, and as he got closer she was able to get him in focus. Amoretta immediately stiffened, feeling threatened by this stranger, but as the scent of omega wafted in, she relaxed slightly. She couldn’t smell any alphas nearby, and that was good.

Two good signs so far.

“Wh-who are you?” She asked, her voice wobbly and hoarse. Her throat was so sore that talking was painful.

“My name is Dr. Bruce Banner.” The man said, reaching towards a nearby table and grabbing a water bottle off of it. “I’m with the Avengers.”

Amoretta frowned. “The...who?”

He came near her slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle and offering it to her. “You’ve probably got a lot of questions. Mind if I ask a couple, though?”

She gave a little shrug as she raised the bottle to her lips. It felt strange to hold, the water tasting...different from what she was used to.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She thought for a moment, brows knitting together. “Subject 1096.”

It was Bruce’s turn to frown. “Did you ever have a...different name?”

After a moment, she nodded, trying to remember. It felt like it was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. Had it really been so long since she had gotten to say it?

“We can come back to that one.” Bruce said gently. “Do you know what year it is?”

She thought for a moment. “19...1986.”

The doctor pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling something along the lines of “Christ, not another one…”

She got the feeling that she was off by a few years.

“Well, Ten...is it alright if I call you that?”

She shrugged.

“...alright. Ten, it seems like you were cryogenically frozen for a few decades.”

“...decades?”

He nodded. “Your body seems to have handled it well, though.”

“Did I puke?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Not that I saw.” He chuckled.

Well, that was a little surprising. She had a tendency to vomit after being wrenched out of unnaturally cold naps. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my lab, at Stark Tower.”

“What continent?”

“North America.”

She made a thoughtful noise. “What month is it?”

“June.”

“So Ursa Major is out?”

Bruce paused. “...well, it’s hard to see with all the light pollution in the city, but...yes, I suppose it should be…”

She let out a sigh. “I miss it.”

Her voice was already sounding tired again, and Bruce was quick to take the water bottle back before it slipped from her hand.

“You should get some more rest, Ten.” He suggested. “We’ve got plenty of time to get you caught up when you’re feeling more energetic.”

“Mhm.” her eyes fluttered closed. “Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“What city am I in?”

“New York.” He said, looking down at her curiously. “Manhattan, more specifically. Why?”

She smiled a little. “I wanna see...Brooklyn…”

As she drifted off to sleep again, Bruce rubbed his face. Well, that certainly was oddly specific of her to say. It was a good sign that she seemed lucid, though.

“Captain Rogers is outside, Dr. Banner.” FRIDAY’s AI voice said.

Bruce met him at the door, making his way out as quietly as possible. Steve looked anxious, standing with his hands on his hips as he waited for news. He hadn’t gotten a chance to find Bucky yet, his friend either working out or sleeping, and all he had managed so far was a quick debriefing and a shower.

“I ran down as soon as FRIDAY called,” he said. “How is she?”

“Sleeping again. Just missed her.” Bruce said wryly. “Walk with me, I’m starving.”

Steve fell into step beside him, heading towards the elevators. “Did she say anything?”

“She did. She seemed a bit out of it...couldn’t remember her name, hasn’t been awake since 1986.” He hit the UP button and stood back. “Seemed very interested in constellations, though. And Brooklyn.”

Steve stared at him. “Brooklyn?”

“Told her she was in New York, and the last thing she said before she fell asleep was something about Brooklyn.” Bruce shrugged. “Really interesting thing was her blood tests, though.”

“Blood tests?” Steve asked, stepping into the elevator and waiting for Bruce to join him before the doors closed again.

“Definitely an omega.” Banner said as they headed up several floors. “Her scent is so muted because they pumped her full of enough suppressants to kill a normal person. Pretty sure that’s why she’s so tired...her body is working overtime trying to process such a high dose. I think it was just pooling in her system while she was in cryo, not really going anywhere, so now her kidneys are doing everything they can to—“

“Banner.” Steve interrupted before he had to listen to an entire scientific explanation.

“Right. Sorry.” The scientist cleared his throat. “There was something else that I found already. She’s, uh…well, at some point, she was given super soldier serum.”

Steve froze. “HYDRA gave the serum...to an omega?”

“It’s confusing to me, too,” Bruce put his hands up in defeat. “Thanks to that, though, it’s hard to determine how old she is, or who she is, without her telling us. All I know is that she’s an unmarked omega super soldier with a hell of a dose of heat suppressants to work through.”

“Any idea when she’ll be up again?” Steve asked as the elevator dinged to signal their arrival.

“Hard to say.” Bruce said, following the alpha out towards the shared kitchen near the common area.

“I need to get to the bottom of this, Banner. FRIDAY, will you find Bucky? I need you to tell him—“

“Tell him what?” A voice asked.

Steve smiled in relief. Bucky was there, sitting on the couch with a plate of Alfredo balanced in his metal hand, looking mildly curious about whatever his friend was talking about.

“Oh, good,” Steve said, approaching him, Banner following behind. “You’re already here.”

“What is it, Stevie?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, as you know, I visited an abandoned HYDRA base today.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I found...something.”

“...something. What kind of something?”

Steve suddenly wasn’t sure how to describe his discovery. “Well, it’s a...not an it, I mean, I found a…”

“Rogers here brought back an omega test subject.” Bruce interrupted. “She’s down in the lab right now sleeping off some nasty meds.”

Bucky’s posture hadn’t changed, despite how awkward and almost nervous Steve had gotten. He leaned back against the cushions, slurping down a few noodles while he regarded his friend with a mild expression.

“Alright, so?” He asked.

“So...I was wondering if you had any idea what HYDRA was doing experimenting on an omega.” Steve said, hands on his hips in a stance that was supposed to say I mean business, so listen to me.

Bucky wasn’t bothered by it. He was the biggest, toughest alpha in the tower, aside from the rare occasions Thor was roughing it down on Midgard with the rest of them. The others could puff up and posture all they wanted at him, but it never had any effect. He was always calm and cool, generally disinterested in their displays. He knew he was stronger, and he didn’t need to prove it, especially not when he didn’t have an omega to fight over.

He shrugged. “I want exactly privy to all their secrets. I know they kept cells full of omegas around for a while.”

“What did they do with them?” Steve asked.

“Whatever they wanted?” Bucky shook his head. “I really don’t know. If they were experimenting on ‘em, that never concerned me.”

“You’ve gotta know something, Buck.” Steve sounded exasperated.

“Why do you care so much?” He asked.

“Because something isn’t adding up.” Steve growled.

“They gave this omega enough heat suppressants to last a lifetime,” Bruce said. “Her system is all kinds of messed up.”

“Makes sense.” Bucky ate another mouthful. “HYDRA wouldn’t want to deal with hormones going crazy or any unplanned pups.”

Steve stared down at his friend. “Did they let you rut?”

“Stevie, at least take me out to dinner before you start asking about my sex life fifty years ago.” Bucky said dryly.

Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“...yeah. They did. Think they couldn’t stop my ruts.” He relented.

“So did they...you know…” Steve trailed off awkwardly.

“Were you ever given omegas to get you through them?” Bruce asked, proving once again how much more capable of having this conversation he was than Steve.

Bucky finally had to glance away from them in embarrassment. “Well…yeah. But I, uh...the Soldier, he would just kind of...well, they didn’t really last long, if you uh. Catch my drift.”

Steve paled.

Bruce gulped.

“...what? Look, I’m better now, I’m way past that. Besides, I never meant to hurt anyone, I wasn’t myself—“

“This omega is a super soldier.” Bruce said quietly.

Bucky’s face dropped, a flicker of something passing over his face. “...what?”

—

“Finally,” Bruce sighed happily, inhaling the smell of leftover pizza.

“Bucky, does the number 1096 mean anything to you?” Steve asked. He was sitting in a chair across from his friend, Bruce sitting at the kitchen island while he ate his dinner.

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t remember any numbers like that. They mostly just called ‘em all omega.”

He was trying to seem cool and collected, but his scent had shifted slightly. Steve could catch just the slightest hint of distress in it, and as he did so, he narrowed his eyes. He may have been separated from Bucky for almost 80 years, but he was still his best friend, and he could tell when he was hiding something.

“Why would they give the serum to an omega?” Steve asked.

“Branching out?” Bucky shook his head. “Why do they do anything? They’re HYDRA. They can do whatever they want.”

“So you don’t remember anything about an omega super soldier?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky sniffed defensively.

“Buck, it’s okay if you do.” Steve growled. “We’re not going to judge you for anything you did. We just want to help her and figure out who she is—“

“Well I don’t know,” Bucky snapped, big fangs bared in a warning.

Steve responded with a low growl.

“There’s a lot I don’t remember, or did you forget how many times they wiped my memory?”

“Seems like you’re hiding something, Buck, and I wanna know what it is.”

“Why do you care? You should just drop it,” Bucky snarled.

Steve regarded him carefully. Oh yeah. He was definitely hiding something.

“Hey, hey,” Bruce interrupted from the kitchen, intent on stopping their fight before it could start. “Relax, fellas. Don’t make me get the big guy out to shut you both up.”

Steve backed down. The threat of having the Hulk going after him was enough. Bucky didn’t seem to share the sentiment, though, his lips still pulled back in a blatant display of aggression. It was the first time in a while that Steve had seen him acting so defensively about something, and it was concerning, to say the least.

“Buck,” he said, voice low with warning. “Are you hiding something?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared angrily and the insinuation that he was keeping secrets, but he managed to reign himself back in, stifling another growl with a loud sigh.

“I dunno, Steve.” He admitted. “There’s...a lot I don’t remember. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m not even sure why I’m feelin’ so worked up about this.”

Steve nodded. It was a relief to hear that Bucky wasn’t acting this way entirely on purpose, at least.

“You feel okay?” Steve asked. “Not rutting soon, are you?”

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Bucky snorted. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again. “Is the omega, uh...is she okay?”

“Physically, she doesn’t seem to be too worse for wear,” Bruce said from the kitchen. “The only abnormalities I found in our preliminary blood tests were evidence of the suppressants and the serum. Other than being exhausted and needing to adjust to consciousness again after decades of cryo, she’s fine.”

“Good.” Bucky said, a little too quickly. “I mean...that’s good.”

“She should be awake again by tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll be up for a longer chat then.”

“You comfortable talking with her?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky. “It might be good for her to see someone else who used to be connected to HYDRA. Might help her ease into everything.”

Bucky gave a nod, already distracted by thoughts of this omega. Was it possible that the girl he saw in his dreams was real? It was hard for him to know what had actually happened to him and what he had imagined, what with HYDRA wiping his memory whenever they felt like it. Ever since he had gained his mental freedom, though, he had been plagued with nightmares, his sleep always filled with the faces of people he had killed.

As time went on, they were getting better, but they never really stopped. He just...didn’t always have to deal with the worst ones. Sometimes, he even got to have dreams that were...nice. Sometimes, he dreamt of a familiar scent, one he couldn’t really place and that he could never remember when he woke up. Sometimes, he dreamt of an omega, with long, dark hair, and the prettiest eyes he could ever imagine. He always saw her in flashes, a smile here, a sigh there, and with no idea as to who she was or where she came from, he had chalked it up to his mind trying to give him some relief from the nightmares. It had to be wishful thinking, and nothing more.

Unless it wasn’t.

He spent a while chatting with Steve and Bruce before retreating to his apartment. With Tony and Pepper gone for the night, spending it in some fancy hotel so that Stark could give a talk at some expo, and most of the others resting after missions, the tower was quiet. It left Bucky too much time to wander and think, and before he knew it, he was making a detour down to Banner’s lab.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he paused. What was he hoping to accomplish, exactly? He didn’t have the kind of clearance that Bruce did. He wouldn’t be able to sneak in, and even if he could, what would he do? Appearing at her bedside would just freak the poor omega out, and that wasn’t the kind of first impression he liked to leave these days.

He shook his head, pressing the button for his floor and leaning back against the elevator wall. He needed to be patient. Tomorrow, when she woke up, he would be able to see her for himself and decide if his weird dreams had any truth to them.

Not that he was getting his hopes up. He shouldn’t, after all. He would just set himself up for disappointment.

Just before the elevator doors slid shut, though, the tiniest, faintest hint of a scent wafted in, and Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew it. He knew that scent, or at least...he used to know it. Somewhere, in a part of his mind that he tried to forget about, he had memories of a peaceful, starry night sky, a hint of pine, and a touch of cinnamon.

Then, the doors closed, and it was gone again, leaving him confused as the elevator rushed upwards.

#alpha bucky barnes #alpha bucky #omegaverse #abo #it's been a long long time #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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gotnofucks · 4 years ago

Text

Chemical Romance

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris won’t have you running away from him. You’re his. He owns your heart, and now he’ll own all of you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: RPF, smut, slight dubcon(ish), jealous and possessive Chris, toxic relationship, recording without permission, forced marriage

A/N: I wrote this months ago and pulled it out to share it with my bestie @donutloverxo . Berry finally convinced me to post this and helped me beta this. Babe, I love you!

You were way past your teenage years, and yet you had the urge to giggle like one. If you licked your lips, you could still taste the trace of wine that had stained his lips. The memory of them pressing against you, brushing gently until they tangled in a mix of tongue and teeth had a delicious heat burning in your face. This was a good date, the third good date with a good man you met, and you were excited for more.

Looking over your shoulder you saw the lights of his car disappearing in the dark of night and you sighed contently, shutting your door behind you and dropping your keys in the bowl by the door. All of a sudden, your body broke into goosepimples, a chill settling over you and it took you a moment to understand why. Your body was recognizing the dark presence before your mind could.

“Good evening sweetheart. Had a good date?”

The door was right behind you, you could easily grab your car keys right now and run away. And yet all you could do was hold onto the wall as your knees trembled. You’d never been good at running away from him anyway.

Chris was lounging on your sofa, watching you with those arresting blue eyes that you knew changed shades with his mood. His beard was thicker than the last you’d seen him, and his lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk, eyes glinting furiously.

“How?” You sputtered, still rooted to your spot. You could run, you should run, but you knew you wouldn’t go far. He let you go only so far to give you a false sense of achievement, a mere taste of relief and freedom until he snatched you back to himself.

“I always think that every time you leave, it would be the last. You’ll realize that its futile, you’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.” Chris said, “But never did I imagine you to be stupid enough to be with another man.”

His voice had been described as dreamy by many, even by yourself, but right now it only rang of danger and anger. Softness was Chris’s weapon, to deliver the meanest words with a smile that was poison sweet. One time, you had loved to taste that poison yourself. Did it still run in your veins and taint you?

Looking at you from under his lashes, he spread his legs and beckoned you to him. You gulped before following, not daring to look away from him until you were before him.

“Kneel” He ordered softly. You knees hit the ground, the rug digging into your skin. He watched you watch him, eyes locked in a dialog of their own until his rough hand caressed the skin of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, hating yourself for being a slave to him and your desire. Even on your knees, the familiar feeling of peace flooded your senses. Nothing made you feel as alive as worshiping him. And nothing killed you as much as loving him.

“Please” You begged, pressing a kiss into his palm. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris regarded you with a look that was almost tender, his blue eyes staring into your own as if unearthing every secret you had ever kept from him. He pulled you closer, close enough to have you raise up and hold his shoulders while his lips brushed gently against yours.

“For as long as I live, you are mine. You know that. Why must you fight it?”

It had been a couple months since you last saw him, since the pads of his fingers had glided over the curves of your body and claimed you as his. You melted, you melted like the butter in a hot pan, sizzling with the heat of his ardor. One taste of him and you were ready to forget why you had left him, why you had packed up and left his house when he was out. Chris Evans didn’t just play your body, he also played your heart. He loved you so hard that it hurt.

You wondered if you should fight, if you should scream or cry. But you knew it the moment you walked inside your house tonight: you were going nowhere but to him. He held you as you captured his lips in yours, a hand fisting his hair and tugging. He pulled until you were on his lap, his beard scratching your skin and reminding you of all the ways he had marked you before.

Panting, you pulled away when he breathily whispered your name, eyes liquid and feral and kind. He was a man of many layers and you had unveiled the darkest of them. He no longer hid the rawest parts of him, and you never knew if it was a good thing or not.

“Pack up, I’m taking you back home.” He said, hands settling on your waist. “I am not spending one more night in a bed without you.”

You nodded, stealing another kiss until you surrendered to his demands. Again.

Dodger ran to you, whining and wagging his tail as you sat down to give him better access. You’d missed your furry companion, his coat soft on your cheek when you nuzzled into him. Chris chuckled, rolling your bags into his room while you and Dodger had your little reunion.

“I am so sorry Bubba” You cooed to him, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me, hmm?”

Dodger barked, rubbing his body against you. You laughed, cuddling your little boy. You’d missed waking upto him snuggled by your feet and the soft pattering of his feet as he followed you around.

“He didn’t eat right for a week after you left. You were being a bad mommy.” Chris said coming behind you. He petted Dodger before pulling you up by your arm, your chest flushed to his. You loved how he smelled of coffee and beer and cinnamon. He tasted of them too, bitter and addictive.

Your fingers traced a path in his beard, lips pressing into the hollow of his throat. It scared you how much power he had over you. You’d promised yourself you’ll break away from his hold when you found him snooping in your phone again. His possessiveness knew no bounds. If Chris had it his way, he’d hide you in a castle made only for his eyes. But right now, in the heaven of his arms, you couldn’t remember why you left him in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You whispered, hugging him tight. His arms came around you, holding you so possessively close that even death couldn’t rip you apart. Chemical romance, that’s how Scott had explained your relationship once. Your friends had stopped complaining, had stopped warning after losing count over how often you broke up and got back together.

“I am so pissed at you.” He said in your ear, breath warm on your skin. “I want to erase every lingering trace of that man’s touch from your body. But more than that, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

You refused to look at him, burying your head in his chest even as you held him tighter.

“I belong to you. I know it baby, I made a mistake.” You said, voice muffled. Chris tutted, pushing your face away firmly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze.

“Here I am, feeling guilty for even touching other women during a scene that is supposed to be my job. And my girl goes around fucking other men because we had an argument?” He hissed, a nerve throbbing in his temple. You pouted, bottom lip wobbling as you tried not to cry. You were raised to be a strong woman, someone who could speak for herself. How was it so easy for this man to reduce you to a sniveling woman for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“I didn’t fuck him.” You countered and Chris’s eyes flashed. You stared at each other until Chris practically growled and dragged you towards the bedroom. Dodger trailed behind you, stopping once Chris ordered him to stay put.

His bedroom, a space you had shared and abandoned all too many times was the same as always. It reeked of his aftershave and cologne, the stars winking at you from the window that overlooked the ground. Chris shut the door, rounding on you and pushing you towards the bed.

“You didn’t fuck him?” He spat, ticked off. “You let him touch you, you let him put his hands on what belongs to me.”

You shivered as your back met the cold sheets, bouncing slightly on the mattress. His anger was scary, but more than that it was exciting. It was you who had brought this strong, powerful man to this animalistic side. You, who could make him scowl and shout and get his heart pumping enough to bring blood to his face. You, who made him primitive as he held you down and fucked you into submission.

“We only kissed.” You said, knowing how to provoke him. That kiss was nice, it was sweet. But your body craved rough and hard, it craved to be possessed and used and worshiped. It craved Chris who left his handprints on your butt and his spent in your cunt. It craved Chris who kissed you until you were out of breath, who whispered the filthiest things to you as he buried himself in your warmth over and over until you were too hoarse to even cry.

He knew it, he read that in your eyes and in your touch that seared through the layers of clothes on his body. He knew you were getting under his skin on purpose, hurting him the way he hurt you so many times. Neither of you held back.

You tore away at his clothes, bucking your hips frantically in a bid to get closer. Chris cursed, squeezing your ass in his large hands and grounding his hardness on your thigh.

“You are testing me” He warned, naked flesh touching yours and hands entwining. You ignored him, the wetness dripping down your core begging his attention.

“Eat me” You cried, wiggling under him. He held fast, rubbing his cock on your abdomen, groaning softly. He nuzzled your neck, kissing softly on the spot he knew drove you wild. His weight prevented you from moving too much, not allowing you to do anything for yourself.

“You don’t tell me what to do baby. Not after letting another man touch you. Not after you walked out on me again.” He said angrily, forcing his gentle touch on your body that craved his roughness. You sobbed against his mouth, getting drunk on his lazy kisses and feather soft caresses. You knew what he was doing, you knew he wanted you to break and beg. And you had no dignity.

“Please” You begged, pathetically with tears in your eyes. “Give me what I want Chris. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

He smirked, sucking a pert nipple in his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You moaned, struggling to move more. It wasn’t enough to have you under him. He needed more than your compliance. He needed your surrender, he needed you to love him with a hunger as great as his. He was greedy.

“Even when you beg, you look like a goddess. You’re my angel, but I’m not gonna let you go to heaven. We’ll sin together in hell.”

He dove in, tongue swiping away your juice in a practiced move as you howled at the suddenness of his attack. Your thighs held his head captive between their plump flesh, mewls spilling from your mouth without restraint as he finally gave you what you wanted. You pulled on his hair, steering him closer to your core that was flaming under his mouth and flooding with pleasure.

“Oh Chris!” You moaned, writhing and trembling. You had missed his beard scratching the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, missed his nails digging in your flesh to keep you steady, missed his tongue poking inside your warm cavern to taste your sweet nectar. Chris never worshiped you like a devotee to the lord. He worshipped you like a man summoning the devil, by spilling blood and leaving marks that stain the soul.

“Look at you go darling, so beautiful” He praised, easing a finger inside you and curling it. You threw your head back, shattering with an orgasm that took your breath away. Pleasure was a feeling you were familiar with, but combined with Chris’s love and anger, it formed the most intoxicating mix that got you dizzy.

He kissed the swollen head of your clit, gently easing you down from your high with praises whispered directly to your leaking cunt. He cupped your pussy, grinding his heels against you as your eyes met.

“Nobody else will touch you here. Or anywhere else for that matter.” He ordered and you nodded, still desperate for him. His cock was red and angry, warm drops of precum leaking over your stomach and you tugged at him, asking to fill you up.

“Chris, I need you inside me. Please.”

He crawled up and laid beside you, jerking you on top of him. Your hands found his chest, lightly playing with his nipples and the spattering of hair there before moving down to cup his hardness and his balls. He jerked at the first contact, closing his eyes as his breath hitched and you smiled at your own effect over him. You could reduce him to a mess just as well he could to you.

Pumping his length, you licked it slowly, lathering it with your saliva. You remembered the day you’d named it Cumstopher Rogers and he’d slapped you with it, making you choke on him until you had to apologize.

“Put me inside you now because if I have to take over, I’ll choose which hole it goes in and you probably won’t like it.” He growled in impatience. You clenched, his threats going straight to your core.

You positioned yourself over him, sinking slowly and gently, feeling every part of him against your spongy walls. With your thighs flush to his, you stopped to just let the feeling of fullness last a little longer. No matter how many times you’d been with each other, the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you never got old. If you could, you’d never be empty.

“All my holes like your cock Mr. Evans. And I? I love it and your butt and your chest and arms and face and everything else.”

You moved at a slow pace, bouncing gently while holding onto his thighs. Taking his hand in yours, you placed it on your chest, asking him to play with your nipples as you rode him.

“You feeling powerful, baby? You feeling good bouncing on my dick?” He asked, pinching a nipple almost to the point of pain. You nodded, leaning down to kiss him as he started thrusting up a little, hitting your cervix when he went too deep. You rolled your belly, clenching your muscles around his length so that his eyes flew open and hands dug into the softness of your butt.

“Oh Chris, I missed this.” You told him, tasting the sweat on his temple. He nodded, his huge arms wrapping around you and pulling you intimately close.

“I missed you too, which is why I will make sure you never leave me. This is not your power move, this is mine.” He darkly murmured and your eyes met his in confusion. He looked at the side and you followed his gaze, mouth dropping open at the camera that blinked at you with a red light on.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You shout, trying to move away when he rolled you over and under him, thrusting in hard.

“Oh yes, what the fuck baby” He said, holding your wrists as he picked up his pace. “You think it’s okay to pack a bag and leave me every time? You think it’s okay to date other men, to kiss other men? You are mine. And if anyone needs proof of that, now I can show it to them.”

You cried out as he went harder, a pressure building deep inside your belly. Tears escaped your eyes, gazing into blue ones that you loved and hated with a passion. You could have asked him to stop now, you could shout that you don’t want him and he’s sick. But you didn’t. You knew he would stop if you really wanted him to, and as much as your heart broke and your chest tightened with hurt, you loved him. You loved his twisted ways to keep you with him. You loved it when he went above and beyond, got crazy in his desire for you. You were wanted. You were cherished.

“Fuck you.” You cursed, meeting every thrust of his with a raise of your hips. Your eyes closed, sweat dripping down your body as you let the animalistic part of you take over, screaming and tearing and fucking each other like two people whose only goal in life was to be embedded in the other’s heart and psyche.

“I’d like to see you try to walk out tomorrow after tonight.” Chris said, delivering punishing strokes that were agonizing and titillating, that were fire and ice. You held onto him, leaving crescent shaped scars to join the numerous tattoos across his body. He took you apart, fucked you so good all you could do was say him name and fall in a glittery haze of his presence. He came inside you, filling you to the brim and crushing your body with his weight.

You weren’t leaving, that much was obvious.

Throwing in your clothes haphazardly in the bag, you promised yourself this would be the last time you did this. You will not come back to this house and this bed. Chris and you were done for good. The past few months had followed the same pattern. You both rekindling the dying flame of your relationship, mending the broken hearts and trust until it went back to hell.

There were too many arguments, too much shouting and angry sex. Every time you sat down to talk, it ended with your legs in the air. Your mother was right. He wasn’t right for you. Chris wanted to be your hero and your villain. He wanted you to think of nobody but him. Any friends and family that warned you against him had to be cut off. He’ll dismiss every article the paparazzi published about him but would throw a fit if you so much as smiled at the cashier in the grocery store. He kept you close like a dog on a leash, feeling jealous at the very sight of you talking to any man. You’d wanted to give this relationship a chance, but as of twenty minutes ago, Chris had made sure it was over.

You wondered about taking your pictures, but it was better to stay away from any temptations. This was happening, and as much as it broke your heart, you will not come back to him. Zipping up your bag, you straightened just as Chris stormed inside the room, jaw clenched in anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, “Put your stuff back. I’ll be damned if I let you leave me again.”

You scowled at him, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. He had no right to ask anything of you, not after what he had just done.

“Fuck off Chris. I am leaving, and you can’t stop me.” You shouldered past him, sadly looking at Dodger who was whining softly as he watched you move. He had seen this happen enough times to know that you’re not coming home.

Chris marched behind you, snatching your wrist and pulling you back to himself. The blue in his eyes was darker, like the sky covered in thunder clouds. You squirmed, pushing against him.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving.” He hissed, looking scary and mad.

“How dare you? After what you did today?” You sobbed, hitting your fists on his chest. He held your jaw, bringing your face closer to him so he could peer into your watery eyes.

“I proposed! I got down on one knee. What the fuck is your problem?” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

You shook your head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. Is he that oblivious?

“Marriage is permanent Chris” You said, voice suddenly soft. “Marriage is living your life devoted to your partner. We can’t break up and leave and come back again. It’s a responsibility. You and I, we haven’t been able to keep a stable relationship. How the hell will we keep a happy marriage?”

Chris frowned, not liking what you said. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his huge arms on either side. You could smell the chocolate and wine on his breath from dinner, his hair all messed up from when he ran his hands through it. On his neck still hung the necklace you’d got him.

“Look at me” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. You breathed deeply, finding it difficult to maintain an eye contact as charged with anger and passion as this one. “You love me, you still love me. It’s all in your eyes. Why won’t you marry me?”

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why did loving him have to be so difficult? Was love worth the fights, the tears and pain and loss of independence? Was loving him enough to keep you going? You were so tired of this back and forth with him. You’d never even talked about marriage before, having been too busy trying to keep any sort of relationship alive. Why would he do this to you?

As your limbs got heavier, you leaned forward and hugged him. You held him to yourself, soaking in his warmth and smell inside you for what would be the last time. You could not give up so much of yourself to sustain this love. Soon enough, there would be nothing more to give and the love would be dead.

“You need to let me go Christopher” You said to him, lips close to his ear. “You need to understand that love is only the beginning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Please, just let me go.”

Chris hugged you tighter, his head resting over yours and heart beating strong beneath your hand. He was your night, full of twinkling stars and dark mysteries. But dawn was approaching fast, and you needed to bid goodbye to the moon to greet the sun that awaited you.

“Never.” He promised, “You are never leaving me again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

He picked you up suddenly, ignoring your protests as he carried you back into the bedroom. Kicking your bag aside, he dropped you on the bed, raising a finger to stop you. He took out the ring from his pocket, the very one you had refused this evening and held it to you.

“Put this on.” He ordered and you rubbed your eyes in exasperation.

“No.”

You both glared at each other, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Fighting with Chris had always been a thrill, more often than not ending with wild sex on any and all surfaces in sight. But today you were determined to end it. You’d not let yourself become weak at the sight of his cock.

“Okay then, you’ve left me no choice.” Chris said. He picked up his phone and tapped away on it, doing god knows what. You sighed, getting up and putting your stuff together again, ignoring his presence behind you. Chris threw his phone on the bed, looking stoically at you work. You were just folding the last of your clothes when your phone started buzzing. You ignored it for a minute, but it kept up, almost falling off the table with its vibrations.

“What the fuck” You gasped, looking at the hundreds of notifications pouring in as more followed. You quickly opened your Instagram to see you’d been tagged by Chris.

And she said YES!

Below that caption was a picture of the both of you from a couple months ago, cuddled up and smiling at each other.

Comments and likes from everyone were popping in, and soon enough, you saw your mother’s call. You stared at Chris, utterly in disbelief. What had he done?

“Try saying no now. You’d be the bitch who broke Chris Evans’s heart, the bitch who played him. Try walking in public between people who’d see you only as a slut and nothing more.”

Your world came crashing down. You were not some hotshot celebrity like Chris. You were just a girl trying to live her life the best way she knew how to, and how it ended up entangled with this man you’d never understand. Even if you shouted from the rooftops the truth of today, no one would believe you. Chris’s fans would tear you to shreds, destroy your life with their mean comments and attacks. And your family would not be spared either. They’ll be exposed to a celebrity scandal, dragged through the mud along with your good name.

“Oh god Chris, what have you done?” You choked out, falling to your knees. He came before you, gently caressing your head before kneeling in front of you. Cupping your face, he kissed you deep and hard, countering your hate with his love that hit you like your own kryptonite.

“I told you. I told you I’ll never let you leave.” He breathed against your mouth, pulling you closer. You dug your nails in his arms, hurting him with the hurt he just caused you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster” You said, chest heaving with emotions.

“Yes, I am. But you know what darling?” He said sweetly, “Even after this, you still love me. I am a monster, but I am a monster you created and one you love.”

You ended up on the bed, sprawled underneath him again. Even with icy hate in your eyes, your heart burned with love for him. It was unnatural, it was chemical and wrong. And yet, it was your reality. He was yours, no matter what he did. And you were his, regardless of every protest that you ever made.

“Now, I’ll ask this one more time. Will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking at you like you were all he ever saw.

“Yes” You breathed, watching silently as he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed it. Meeting your eyes, he settled over your body, his arousal pulsing over your thigh. Sealing the deal with a kiss, Chris went to remove your shirt.

“Then let’s celebrate. After we’re done, we can call our families with the good news.”

#chris evans x reader #dark!chris evans x reader #chris x reader #dark!chris evans #chris evans #chris evans rpf

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xaphrin · 4 years ago

Text

I am hoping to post this whole fic all at once, but I was so happy with this chapter that I wanted to share it. So, here. Have some "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with my wedding baker" AU.

- - -

When Damian opened the door to find Raven standing in the hallway, the expression on her face spoke volumes about her feelings of being here when most people were dead asleep.

She adjusted the large plastic container in her hands and shook a lock of hair out of her eyes. “You are aware that it’s two in the morning, right?”

Damian knew. Of course he did. A part of him almost felt apologetic for calling Raven and forcing her to come to his home in the middle of the night (especially over something as insignificant as lemon curd), but with the premium he was paying her for an off-hours house call, he didn’t allow that apology to take root. He’d been accused of being a “night owl” on more than one occasion, but the truth was that he suffered from occasional bouts of insomnia. And if he had to suffer through this ailment, then so should others - including the baker for his wedding.

“I’m paying you enough to make up for your interrupted sleep schedule.” Without any ceremony, he ushered her into his penthouse, closing the door behind her. Titus pushed past him and nudged Raven’s hip, begging for pets. Damian couldn’t help but notice that Titus paid Raven more attention than he paid his own fiance. “Sleep when you’re dead.”

Raven’s lips pulled to the side in a teasing half-smile, her eyes meeting his. “How chivalrous of you.” There was a small pause as she set the plastic container down on a small table by the door and bent down to scratch Titus behind the ears. “You know that your night time doorman seems to think I’m here for purposes other than cake. Why else would some strange woman be visiting you at an unreasonable hour?”

Damian didn’t care what his doorman thought, and he highly doubted Raven cared. She was just trying to get under his skin. He shrugged and turned away from her, motioning her to follow him deeper into his flat. “I hardly see how that is my problem. Besides, didn’t you say that you get up at four in the morning anyway?”

Her face fell. “That is entirely beside the point, and you know that, Mr. Wayne.”

“You can call me Damian.” He had reminded her of that fact at least half a dozen times now.

“Ha.” Her sarcastic laugh made him smirk. “No one calls a Wayne by their first name. It’s akin to social suicide. I’d be willing to bet that you even call your father Mr. Wayne.”

Damian walked her through the massive living room, heading towards the kitchen at the far end of his flat. “Only on holidays, and the occasional birthday.”

Raven snorted. “Ah. I see how deep the decorum runs.” As they walked into the kitchen, her face lit up with surprise, and she let go of a low whistle. Pushing past him, she inspected the appliances with blatant envy. “Do you even know what I would do to have this oven in my posession? I would commit war crimes to get this oven in my apartment.” She opened the oven doors and looked inside before standing up and turning to him, eyes narrowing. “Is this just for show? Do you even bake?”

“No.”

Raven closed the oven door and sighed. “Pity.”

“I cook.”

That seemed to pique her interest, and she leaned against the marble countertop, watching him with a sharp stare. There was a long stretch of silence, and it felt like her eyes were boring into him, stripping away everything that protected him until it felt like each flaw was exposed to her scrutiny. In any other situation, Damian would have slammed up some kind of barrier to keep her from looking too deep, but this time he found himself oddly comfortable with letting her investigate him. He didn’t mind showing her his weaknesses, and that thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. He kept his face blank and let her watch him.

“You know… I am having a hard time imagining you slaving over a stove in a hot kitchen.” Her head tilted to the side and she smirked. “Although I like the thought of you wearing a frilly apron. A soft pink one, with ruffles and bows.”

His face fell and he crossed his arms over his chest. Cheeky. “I am docking your home visit fee until you take that back.”

“Mm. Worth it.” She turned away from him, and reached for the plastic container on the counter, unsnapping the lid. In an instant, Titus was at her side and Damian watched her sneak him a treat she had obviously made for him. Raven seemed to make herself at home in his kitchen, as if she belonged there. He found himself smiling at her, and a strange kind of warmth filled his chest.

“So, tell me your fear with the lemon curd, and why it was so imperative that you force me out of bed at two o’clock in the morning to travel all the way across town with cake samples.”

Well, when she put it like that, it did make him sound like a typical, spoiled son of an eccentric billionaire. Damian ignored that small spot of guilt again and settled on a stool at the eat-in counter. “I think my fiance is allergic to lemons… or curd. I can’t remember, but it’s one of those.” He thought for a long moment, trying to remember what it was that she had said last time he had spoken to his fiance.

“You can’t remember?” Raven turned back around and looked at him, her expression incredulous. “Haven’t you two known each other for years? That's what all the tabloids say anyway.”

Oh, right. The tabloids were spinning the relationship into some falsehood of star-crossed lovers who used to be childhood best friends. The truth was far less interesting. “We have known of each other for years. We’ve crossed paths at various parties and events, and my father and hers have a mutual business relationship. But, knowing each other implies some kind of deep, long term relationship. Something more than casual friends.”

“Ah.” Raven rummaged through his cabinets for plates, setting them next to the plastic container containing cake samples. “And I take it that’s not what you have with the daughter of Queen Consolidated?”

Damian shrugged, knowing that talking about the arrangement was opening himself to all kinds of scrutiny from her. But, there was something about Raven that made it almost comfortable to open up to her. In all the times they had been together, she never seemed like the type to spill his secrets. In fact, she seemed to keep them closer than most people he knew. He actually liked talking to her - even with her cheeky attitude. “We’ve only been together in an official capacity for a few months.”

“Oh…”

Her tone seemed to waffle between pity and understanding, and Damian felt like he had to scramble for an explanation. It felt like he didn’t want her to think less of him as a person.

“The marriage is one of a business nature. Our families would be brought together with the marriage of children. It would strengthen the ties between us.” After saying it out loud, Damian realized how cynical that sounded. It was more than just a business move. For all intents and purposes, he liked Emiko, she was smart and polite and reasonably attractive. Marrying her was a good, sound move. He would be content though their marriage.

“I didn’t realize that was still a thing - marrying for business purposes.” Raven pulled out cake samples from the plastic box and placed them on the counter. “Sounds a little medieval, if you ask me.”

Damian shrugged, not feeling any particular way about her comments. “She’s a lovely woman.”

“Is she?” Raven scoffed. “My landlady is a lovely woman. The mail person is a lovely woman. The person who delivers my takeaway is a lovely woman." She gave him a flat stare, pursing her lips. "Lovely woman is not a term of endearment you use for someone you're madly in love with."

"I never said I was madly in love with her."

"Ah. I see. I must have misunderstood." She handed him a slice of cake, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s as she watched him. "Raspberry and chocolate." She paused. "Is that the business agreement to the marriage then? You marry Emiko Queen, and in return both families have fingers in each other’s pots… so to speak.”

"Yes." Damian took a bite of the cake, and he tasted the sharp tartness of the raspberry at the forefront of the cake before melting away to luscious chocolate. Just like the first time he tasted her cakes, he barely kept himself from moaning in pleasure. She had to bake magic into her cakes for them to taste this damn good. He chewed slowly, letting himself wallow in the flavor.

"Does she love you?"

Damian swallowed and stared at her. The question caught him off guard. He knew for certain he didn’t love her, but he had never really thought about whether or not she loved him. "That's forward of you."

"Asking if your fiance loves you?" She snorted and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "You're right. How rude of me." Another slice of cake appeared. "Pistachio and cardamom."

He took a bite and tamped down a shiver. She was a magician, there was no other explanation. The flavor curled in his mouth like spiced smoke. "It'll be a fine arrangement."

"Mm. How romantic, an arrangement. Be still my fluttering heart."

Damian rolled his eyes and took another bite of cake. "I am amazed you manage to keep clients with the mouth on you."

She gave a one shouldered shrug. "I let my work speak for me." There was a pause and she leaned over the counter to look closer at him, trying to decipher his expression. “But you never answered my question. Does she love you?”

Damian blinked, letting her question settle in the pit of his stomach. Did his fiance love him? He doubted it, but then again, he never thought to ask. Emiko wasn’t frigid to him, but she wasn’t overly attached either. Indifferent seemed to be the best way to describe her feelings, as though she cared for him as nothing more than a distant friend. She seemed to view this arrangement the same way he did - a duty to her family and a business transaction. Nothing more.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” Raven’s head tilted to the side and she stared at him again, blatantly reading his face. He felt uncomfortable, letting her sharp eyes watch him. She seemed to see more than anyone else had. “I see hundreds of couples a year, and I’ve learned to pick out who truly cares for each other, and who really doesn't know what they want."

Damian took another bite of the pistachio cake, never looking away from her face. Even when she was picking him apart, she was beautiful. "And I take it that you believe I'm the latter?"

"I don't just believe, I know." She handed him another slice of cake. "Orange spice."

"I'm not particular about marrying for love. I've never subscribed to the idea." The orange spice was by far the best, and it immediately went on the short-list.

A pitying look crossed her face. "You don't believe in love?"

That question made him pause, and he looked back at her, his head filled with something akin to smoke. It was like he couldn’t think beyond her question. "I… don't know." He realized with some small amount of shock that he really didn't know. As he sat there, watching her, he realized that he never thought he would fall in love. He had crushes and minor relationships, but nothing that he would call love. Nothing that made him feel like the world was falling out from under his feet, and he was left clamoring for something that made him whole.

“You look surprised by your own answer.” Raven’s voice was soft, nearly swallowed up by the silence between them. “Did you honestly think you would never fall in love?”

“I suppose I did.” Damian took another bite of cake and shifted in his seat. “Love never seemed like something I gave much thought to. My duty has always been to my family, and as long as I am comfortable, I don’t see the need for much else.”

Raven pulled out another slice of cake. “Have you thought that maybe you haven’t met the right person?”

Damian’s face fell and he stared at her, taking the slice of cake from her. “That seems a trite response.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. That’s vanilla and rose water.”

Damian’s face scrunched at the flavor and he pushed it away. “That rose water is abhorrent.”

A soft laugh escaped and Raven shook her head. “Rose water is very en vogue right now. I’m not fond of it, but some people like it.” She took the slice back and leaned against the counter. “So, tell me if you don’t mind, why are you putting all this effort into a wedding with someone you don't have feelings for?"

"It's meant to be a performance." He hummed softly, thinking. “Both of our families have a reputation to uphold, and if we don’t live up to that expected standard, the media will tear us apart. Emiko doesn’t need any poor publicity.”

“Mm. I understand to a point.” She paused and pulled out another slice of cake. “You’re very pragmatic about this.”

The way she said that didn’t sound like a compliment. Damian took the offered cake. “I don’t require your approval.”

“I never said you did. I’m only in this for the absolutely exorbitant fee you’re paying me.” She smirked. “But… I am curious, don’t you want to fall in love? Just once?”

“And who would I fall in love with?” He took a bite of cake and practically sighed. Chocolate and orange.

“You’re a Wayne. More than half the world would be willing to fall in love with you. Take your pick.”

“I don’t think you can force love.”

Raven shrugged. “Well, your upstanding camaraderie with your fiance doesn’t fit the bill either.”

He blinked and took another bite of the cake. This was the one. “I never intended to love her. Our partnership will be fine.”

Raven lifted an eyebrow. “So… what happens if you fall in love with someone before you get married?”

“I hardly think that will happen.” He scoffed and took a third bite of the cake. He doubted he would find anyone who could coax him to fall in love. That seemed like an impossible task. “And even if I did, it changes nothing.”

“You’re so committed to this marriage. It’s admirable.” Her smile widened. “I take it the orange and chocolate one is the winner? You’ve eaten half the slice already.”

“You’re talented at this.” He took another bite and met her stare. “What about you?”

“I think the chocolate orange will both make a statement and still be appropriately conservative.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His eyes searched hers, and he suddenly realized he had to know. He had to know if there was anyone in her life that meant more than just a friend. He wanted to know who her heart beat for. “Are you in love?”

Color crawled up her neck. “That’s a pretty personal question to ask your baker.”

Damian shrugged. “For what I’m paying you, humor me.”

She chewed on her lower lip and glanced away, and she shifted for a moment. “Currently? No. I was in love once, but… it faded.” She looked back into his eyes. “But that doesn’t make it any more special and important.”

"And you want to fall in love again?" He felt strange and a little invasive asking these questions, but some part of him wanted to know. He wanted to know not just about falling in love, but Raven falling in love specifically. Would she fall in love again? And with whom?

"Of course." Her voice was soft and gentle, and she gave him a small, almost sad smile. "I haven’t found the right person to fall for just yet. But it’ll come.”

Something in Damian’s chest twisted and he found himself reaching across the counter to rest his hand next to hers. It was as close as he dared to get to her. She met his stare for a long moment, and that feeling in his chest turned almost painful. He wanted to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, to feel her skin under his fingertips, but his hand stayed firmly pressed against the cool marble of the counter.

He swallowed slowly and nodded. “The chocolate orange.”

#damirae #demonbirds #I DID SOMETHING #whatever this is #baker au

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harfanfare · 4 years ago

Text

Snow White and Juliet

trigger warning: suicide and just whatever happened in Romeo and Juliet & Snow White but darker.

People tend to define different things with the same word.

According to some, the lack of life is simply death. Others include there people who do nothing but work. They have no love, no passion. Those who remain unmoved by the suffering of others. Heartless ones.

For one poison vendor, "lifeless" meant being unable to move, drink, eat, but think. Think for eternity about nothing, what is described harsher than real death.

◆◆◆

„Test 103 was accomplished with success.”

There is confusion in the experiment hall. Researchers run from monitor to monitor, all comparing unexpected, but desired results.

No errors in documentation. No lapses in research. No difference in subsequent attempts.

The team of researchers was cheering in awe: the antidote for one of the biggest poisons in Twisted Wonderland, the "Poisoned Apple", has been found.

It's time to wake Neige Leblanche up.

◆◆◆

The Leblanche Tragedy happened almost two years ago when many haters got to harras Neige and his fiancée, [Name], who just announced their relationship. You were meeting already for quite a time, and knowing each other even longer. It wasn't easy to break any of you by hate.

But it wasn't also easy to live with people, who despised you with all their heart.

"It's alright," Neige whispered, his fingers combing the hair of his beloved. His voice was tranquil and soothing as always, almost by itself vanishing every bad experience. "It will be alright. I will make sure it will be."

"I know. And I am always thankful for that," you replied, cuddling him even more. Neige scent was another thing that hadn't changed over years; it was still the same aroma of wild, but soft flowers and heartwarming sunrays. Another wonderful feature. "I love you, Neige."

"I love you too."

That was the last discussion you had before the disaster happened.

And it started from no one else than Vil Schoenheit, who wasn't even aware how his actions will take a completely another turn than everyone expected.

◆◆◆

"Will it solve it? The sleeping potion?" you asked, turning the vial in your hands. It was no bigger than your little finger, and the potion there was taking only half of the space.

Not so long ago, around an hour, you found yourself invited by Vil to a tea party. You couldn't figure if he had been struck by your "help me" aura or was searching for a company, but you ended up in gardens, staring at the porcelain pot in which the tea was brewing.

It favoured the first meeting you two had: the tableware with the same, old-fashioned flowery pattern and the rich aroma of tea leaves of Vil's choice. Only a plate with sweets and fruits was something new—it was hard to convince Vil to bring anything sugary and even harder to make him try it. He finally ate a small (microscopical, in your opinion) piece of hand-made shortcake, but that was all you could do to let him appreciate the sweet energy shot.

"I cannot guarantee anything," Vil replied, watching you examine the bottle's content. "But it may work. With an emphasis on 'may'," he added, tearing his gaze away. Vil was your dear friend, and even if he didn't approve of your taste in men, especially your pick for a future husband, you were close enough to have him help you come up with a solution. "Use it as a last resort. I... am sure you will be able to find a better, safer way. For example, dumping your fiancé."

You giggled, but both of you knew his proposition was impossible. You could never leave Neige.

"Thank you, no thank you," you answered with a smile. The only thing that didn't let it last longer, were your problems. "Again, I am indebted to you. Thank you for being the best and the best prettiest in my life."

Vil puts the tea away, its taste suddenly feeling bitter and hard to swallow.

"...Well then. [Name], don't be reckless."

"I will try my best not to. I promise."

◆◆◆

You found a solution.

If you were the reason which made people attack Neige on social media and not only, why wouldn't you just disappear?

Not for eternity. Only for a month, maybe a few weeks, until the turmoil would silence. You and Neige could get married this way, inviting no one else than the closest of the closest people for the ceremony. Announcing your marriage and fake death wouldn't be that much of a shock as many could assume. There is a field called effective business, and everything can happen under that name.

I know how reckless is that, you were writing your thoughts on a paper. Once the dwarfs you invited to yourself saw the letter, they would give it to Neige. And you two would no longer have anyone who could undo anything. But think about it, Neige! If we may finally be together, isn't it a great chance?

You reassured him in the letter that you would wake up after few days. You also highlighted that he doesn't have to use your plan and let you two fight against the darker side of Wonderland together. He could just let you have week-long beauty sleep and with a fresh mind, try to solve your problems by less drastic measures: the press or announcements.

Maybe you were only overthinking and complicating the situation too much.

Your most loving fan, [Name]

You signed yourself and closed the envelope.

Your gaze returned to the sleeping potion. I am exaggerating, you thought. Your plans could fit into a script of a good film but in real life? What you were about to do felt... irrational and foolish.

Maybe you would change your mind if not the rush.

Once you heard footsteps on the floor and your friends, dwarfs, calling your name, you knew it is time to make a decision.

You quickly unscrewed the bottle and put it in your mouth. The sweet, sleepy fragrance with a hint of rosemary sent you to a sleep that devotedly resembled a death. The crash and sound of breaking glass as you fell to the ground immediately alerted everyone in the mansion. You couldn't hear the accelerated footsteps, screams, cries and commotion that was going on over you.

Before anyone could think to do something other than trying to wake you up and calling the hospital, the letter with your plan flew outside the window.

That night you broke two things: the promise you made to Vil and a heart of Neige.

◆◆◆

The death of [Name], the fiancée of the most adored man in the world.

Marriage cancelled? The mystery behind the death of [Name] [Surname].

A Dead bride.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Neige scrolled through the media, each article made his heart ache. He ignored a great count of calls and didn't manage to appear at your funeral in time.

He was a broken toy, who just lost its batteries. He was a wrack of what he was before. Beautiful on the outside, blank on the inside.

Wearing a dark, a bit too oversized suit, he laid against one of the roadside trees. He closed his eyes, trying not to focus on any people, buildings or sounds except his breath. It was slow and steady until he remembered why he tries to calm down; then he would choke on his breath, tears falling from his eyes and trying to not lose balance.

"Would you like an apple?"

Neige wiped his tears in a sleeve and slowly turned around to see an old lady behind a stall. It was ruined and seemed unattended for years. The counter was doty, wood softened and tore off in big pieces by the wind and rain. Between beautifully decorated shops and cafes, this stall seemed to be a remnant that no one ever wanted to touch.

"Thank you, but I am fine." Neige replied in his polite tone, but the smile he sent her looked like nothing near 'fine'. "I am not allowed to take anything from strangers, but that is really kind of you!"

"Not just a bite?" the lady continued, putting an apple on the counter. It was brown, slightly green, and Neige would never guess it was an apple. Maybe more like a rotten apple, but no one would say that this apple was unfresh. Adversely, it contained freshness, but not of the common kind. "Wouldn't you like to join your lover?"

Neige held his breath.

"You mean... to die?"

"What I mean has no value. You will understand it the other way, even if I tried to explain," she replied. Her voice was squeaky as she repeated the question the same enigmatic way she did the first time. "So, would you like an apple?"

"No, thank you..." Neige bowed slightly. He hesitated, before trying his best to speak up. "I- I think [Name] would hate me dying. Only if she could understand this too..."

"Maybe she did" the lady replied. There was conviction in her voice, and Neige couldn't help but take her words seriously. "Or maybe not."

Neige hoped you did. How he loved you and how your death changed him from the happiest man in the world, the saddest one. He didn't know why you took your life and why he didn't notice anything before. He regretted spending not as much time with you as he wanted to.

But nothing could be done to change the past.

"I will get going," Neige said. He glanced towards the old lady, who smiled at him and showed some of her lacking teeth. "And... could you fetch me this apple, please?"

◆◆◆

Once Neige's gaze settled on your figure, the world was immediately forgotten.

He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears much more than silence who was your only companion.

No flowers, candles and golden ornaments of the church could divide Neige's attention, as his pace fastened with every step he made towards you. He didn't hesitate to lock his fingers with yours. He squeezed them, wishing his warmth could reach you.

"[Name]..." he whispered, getting his face closer to your sleeping face. He gently removed the lost strands of hair from your face, not believing that you won't wake up anymore. As much as he wanted to, no mage in Twisted Wonderland could bring the dead back to life. At least not in human's form. "I love you so much. T-too much, I think. How can I live without... my life?"

He gave you one last 'farewell' kiss on the lips, his body next to yours. "See you soon, [Name]."

His expression is the softest one he ever wore, as he reaches for an apple.

He bit it.

And then 'died'.

No sooner than the poison completely took control of his body, you woke up.

"Neige...?" you murmured, bringing your hand to his cheek. The anxiety mingled with your thoughts once you look around yourself. "We are... in a coffin?" You sat. It required effort, after not using muscles for a whole week. By the time, you took a break, you conjectured what happened. You jerked your head around and let your hands cup your lover's face. "Ple-please, please, Neige, don't do this to me. Please."

He didn't respond and the bitterness you tasted when you kissed his still warm lips confirmed that he didn't use Vil's potion. He was poisoned, and the amount left on his lips wasn't enough to take you to the same place as him. "Why didn't left anything for me? Neige..."

Your eye caught the glimmer. You went closer to notice the dagger, resting on the floor. It wasn't that visible as the weapon would be, and until you were a step from it, you could see how thin the blade was. As edge as sturdy.

The fear paralyzed you, as you came back to the coffin. But the remorse and the sight of your lover's dead body were stronger. Your whole body was shivering, a tremor affecting you more than you could ever imagine, making you go mad. Insane.

With one sharp move, you dug the blade into your chest, scared and closing your eyes.

"I am a fool."

By the time anyone arrives, it is too late to rescue you or stop the poison coursing through Neige's veins.

◆◆◆

In the morning sun rises, and everyone in Wonderland wakes up.

It is also the first time in two years since Neige fell asleep.

He can't feel anything. He can't sense the flaxen shirt the doctors changed him in. He can't get his mind through the haze, that has been floating around his thoughts just after he drank the poison. He can't answer the calls of the doctors and his friends, dwarfs, who are gathering around his bed.

But he can open his eyes.

And once he does, the silence is overcoming. When the fact finally sinks in everyone's heart, a great cheer flies across the room. Some of the gathered give Neige comforting touch or reassuringly squeeze his hand.

It takes him some time to realize what is happening, why is he in the hospital room, why people are crying around him and why you aren't the first one he sees once he wakes up. His habit of kicking you while sleeping was something you complained and teased him about. Even if he didn't wake you in his sleep, when he was getting up, his knee would always hit your arm or stomach, waking you up and having you buck him off the bed as revenge.

What he also can do, except for trying to stay awake and catching things his visitors chatter around him, is to try to remember. He didn't lose his memories! It just needs some effort to get them back from the darkest recesses of his mind! And then to regret it.

A whole wave of memories hits him like a tsunami, not leaving him space to breathe and see anything else than chaos, now replaced by the memories of you two.

The kisses. The promises. The vowes. The proposal. The struggles. The tenacity to get over your problems. The plan. The dead body of yours.

He doesn't have to turn around to know that you aren't in a hospital bed beside him. He remembered some of the talks of his friends when he was sleeping. Now everyone is waiting for him to return.

"Neige! You've finally woke up, huh!" Che'nya chippers, his voice cracking at last words. He is relieved about the news and only bad Neige's condition stops him from throwing himself at his arms and spreading the revelation to everyone... No, not even Neige himself can stop him from the latter.

Neige wasn't going to stop him. His mind still replayed the "finally woke up" part, as if the film stopped at the most painful scene, then broke and started to replay the scene once again. And again.

He turned his head on the side, letting the tears run down his cheeks.

He really can't feel anything.

"That," Neige manages to whisper under his breath. It is the first time he tries to say anything, and grievously struggles to put his words together. "is- is... so cruel." Everyone stared at him in silence, the same way they did when Neige and his dead lover were found. His cry brings tears to everyone's eyes, having many people bow under the weight of sorrow and put a hand over their lips to not let themself break again. "I didn't want to wake up..!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst neige #neige #neige leblanche #neige x reader #neige leblanche x reader #neige blanche x reader #angst #tw suicide #suicide tw

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forthegothicheroine · 4 years ago

Text

The King in Yellow, 1949

Much of this story is true. Warnings in the tags.

When I had pneumonia in my early teens, my mother brought home an armful of VHS tapes from the library to alleviate my misery. Knowing my snobbish preferences, she had grabbed copies of whatever she found in black and white. I remember something musical that I suspect was Busby Berkeley, I remember Mildred Pierce (a bad choice, as it turned out- the plot includes a young girl dying of pneumonia), and I remember a period piece called The King. I faded in and out of consciousness while I watched it, but it soothed me while I was awake and filled my fever dreams with sparkling images. I could never find it at the library again, nor at Hollywood Video or even early Netflix (once my father got the subscription service where you could order practically every DVD.) It was a bit odd that it seemed to be so obscure, given that it starred old Hollywood legend Ingrid Bergman (and, although I initially forgot it, Marlene Dietrich.) But even big stars make films that fall by the wayside in public memory, and it seemed that this was one of them. Google was no help, and at the time that was that.

I didn’t see the film again until I was watching Turner Classic Movies at my grandparents’ house. I loved watching that channel with them while filling out the crossword puzzle that came in their little TCM catalogue (all of it based on movie trivia, the only kind of crossword puzzle I’ve ever been any good at.) I recognized a certain scene where Bergman stood on a balcony, looking sadly at the moon. Her face had an expression of unutterable melancholy, and the crescent moon reflected in each of her eyes, giving the impression of two moons in one sky. I had very little time to catch up on what I’d missed before we had to go meet my cousins at the local Italian restaurant. I knew logically that the movie would be long over by the time we returned, but I turned on the channel anyway. Of course it had moved on to the lesser known Alfred Hitchcock film Stage Fright, but then I heard Marlene Dietrich sing before I could reach the remote to turn the tv off in disappointment. I knew that I had heard her sing before, and I knew it had been in The King.

Dietrich’s singing often comes across as somewhat campy today, with its Rs pronounced as Ws and it’s up-and-down tone. Madeline Kahn parodied it brilliantly in Blazing Saddles, such that it was a bit of a disappointment when I finally saw Dietrich’s western Destry Rides Again and found it to be lifeless and inconsistent next to the parody. Still, we remember her voice for a reason, and when I remembered it that night, I knew that its sardonic loneliness had rung through The King and made me shiver in my dreams.

The TCM schedule didn’t list The King in its time slot, but something else. If I had taken down the name, maybe it would have helped me find it. Sometimes the same movie runs under multiple names.

I didn’t see the film all the way through for many years, after I graduated college. I had found a web page that listed public domain film noir, including one called The Masked Guest. The website described it as a costume noir, and I curiously clicked on the link. Once I took in the credits running on the youtube window, my eyes grew wide and I did not move from my place on the bed until the movie had run its course.

The credits did indeed list it as The Masked Guest, but I recognized the strange repeating design on the title cards. They told me that in addition to starring Dietrich and Bergman, it was directed by Fritz Lang, and a character called The King was credited to “???” (I hadn’t seen that kind of credit since the first Karloff Frankenstein.) When the King finally appears on screen, though, it is unmistakably Orson Welles’s voice that booms out from behind his elaborate costume.

Here are the things I understand about The King, or The Masked Guest, or The Man in Yellow, or any other title I’ve found for it on public domain archive searches. Dietrich and Bergman play princesses named Cassilda and Camilla, respectively. Though Dietrich’s accent is German and Bergman’s is Swedish, they blend together to give the film the impression of being set somewhere on the map that I can’t quite find. The scenery and camera angles are very Freudian, with a great deal of archways and pillars.

The first act of The King involves frankly dull romantic plotlines, and the only thing that really saved it was the feeling that the suitors were supposed to be insipid, a suspicion lended credence by the fact that the love interests were listed so low on the credits. Dietrich is the scandalous sister and Bergman is the responsible one, though each takes on aspects of the other as the film goes on. Dietrich sings her song at a party, dressed in a fake 17th century gown and leaning against a piano. Although just a moment ago she had been laughing and joking with her gentleman friends, her song takes an abruptly serious tone (not seductive, not sentimental) as she tells the story of a city lost to time and memory. Bergman slips away from the party and onto the balcony, where we see that wonderful shot of the moon in her eyes. Is she mourning? Is she longing?

Dietrich cuts off the song by abruptly screaming “Not on us, King! Not on us!” She flees the party weeping and shaking, and from there on the film goes mad.

Though uncommon, it is not unknown for movies to switch between black and white and color, done most famously in The Wizard of Oz. The film The King recalls here is the silent Phantom of the Opera, which had a masqued ball scene tinted in shades of red and green that tried to provide a whole spectrum of color. The effect is even odder in the masqued ball scene in The King- the only color that appears is yellow, highlighting things like candlelight, Dietrich’s hair, a passing gown, a vase of tulips. It also highlights one particular masked figure, whose expressionless mask was decorated with a black pattern against a sickening yellow canvas- the same pattern I had seen in the opening credits. The color of his costume causes him to stand out from the crown even when he is far off in the background, just one head among many others. It must have taken long and painstaking hours of work to color in every frame.

Dietrich still seems broken up days after her song, though Bergman tries to coax her into joining the dance. Finally, at midnight, Dietrich goes out to face the party, but only to demand that every guest remove their mask. The yellow man with a voice that once warned America about a Martian invasion tells her that he wears no mask. Bergman reacts with disbelief, but Dietrich starts laughing like a woman unhinged. As she laughs, the yellow hue seeps out of the King’s clothing and face- if that really is his face- and begins to color the entire ballroom crowd. I think that what follows is bloodshed, but if there is any carnage (doubtful under the Production Code censorship), the blood must be tainted yellow and splashed across the camera like daubs of paint. Dietrich’s laughing face is doubled and tripled on screen until it dissipates, but even when it has faded offscreen, it feels as if her ghost continues to watch the proceedings.

By the end of the scene (filled with German Expressionist camera angles and mad violin screeching), only Bergman remains alive, cowering behind a grandfather clock. It does not hide her for long. The King steps towards her and extends his hand. Reluctantly, but with a fatalistic expression, Bergman takes his hand. They walk away together hand in hand. The screen shifts back into black and white, and then the credits roll before we can get a good look at all the bodies in the scene. The credits say it was based on a play called The King in Yellow, although Raymond Chandler of all people apparently had a hand in the screenplay.

As I said, that’s what I think I understand. It’s an oddly experimental art film for the era, and it may be awaiting rediscovery by the film festival crowd. I feel as if I alone know about it, though that obviously isn’t true. It is my little secret; I tell myself that my husband doesn’t need me to show it to him, it would be too odd for his taste. I’ve rewatched it many times, even if it seems like each time I search for it I have to find a different video platform or torrent. Naturally, no subscription site has it available. Maybe I am the last person who will ever watch it. Maybe no one will ever think to look for it again after me, and it will be completely forgotten.

When I was hospitalized, they let me use my laptop at night before I went to sleep (no power cord, though, in case I tried to hang myself.) I found a youtube link for The Man in Yellow, and I watched it every night. It wasn’t a soothing sort of movie, but having it in my mind all day and then watching it in the evening allowed me to think as opposed to crying endlessly while the other patients shot me awkward looks. I clutched the childhood stuffed animals my mother brought me when she visited, and I always held them extra tight when the masquerade scene started.

I watched the movie when I had to move away from my beloved San Francisco. I watched the movie when I lost the last of my grandparents. I watched the movie when a doctor unwisely took me off my medication and I couldn’t manage to eat for a month. I watched the movie when the whole world got sick and we all locked ourselves away from each other. I don’t mind that I don’t entirely know what it means. I don’t mind the nightmares. In the hospital they kept telling us about mindfulness exercises, and maybe the fact that I can focus on every aspect of the film so closely that all else falls away is the reason I keep coming back to it. I’m being mindful. I’m not letting any stray thoughts invade my head. I’m just watching and waiting for the next beat of every scene, leading inexorably to that yellow-stained bloodbath.

Streaming media doesn’t last forever, and each time I find The King, I worry that it will be the last time I ever can find it. My efforts to download it have so far been unsuccessful, odd considering that it is in the public domain.

When I watch The King, I am once again a child in my bedroom being cared for in the throes of agonizing sickness. I am once again sitting on the couch with my grandparents in front of the tv, both of them alive and lucid again. I am once again in the hospital, all alone except for my stuffed animals and the staff trying to keep me alive. The film reflects in my eyes like the crescent moon in Ingrid Bergman’s gaze. It sings to me.

I am determined to find a way to obtain The King under any name so that I never have to worry about losing it. During some of the worst times in my life, it is the only thing that has kept me sane.

#the king in yellow #cw mental illness #cw disordered eating #cw institutionalization #cw suicide

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let-me-luve-you · 4 years ago

Text

Separated Cherries

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: The reader deals with anxiety and one form of the readers anxiety is separation anxiety. She really misses Tom so he flies her to Cleveland while he’s working on Cherry. He later admits how hard it was for him to worry about her and focus on the seriousness of the character.

Warnings: anxiety, separation anxiety, angst, protective Tom, talks of Cherry (nothing is mentioned specific i don’t think, but I do mention that it was hard for Tom to film it and how it deals with difficult topics)

A/N: I’m awful. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the late post but I hope you enjoy it!! This was for a special person and I hope they enjoy it! Also I mention a scene in Cherry but don’t go into detail but if you have watched the press tour, you may know what scene I’m talking about. Or if you’ve seen the movie, you may know what scene I’m talking about. I tried to avoid spoilers so I hope you like this story.

MASTERLIST BUY ME A COFFEE

The days leading up to Tom leaving, you didn’t leave his side. He didn’t mind though. He loved having you around. You grounded him and reminded of the normal life he left behind when he went to be The Tom Holland the world knows and loves.

Earlier this month, Tom took you with him to Utah for a convention. You had never gone to one before so Tom thought this would be a good time. Tom also was being a little selfish and wanted you there with him since he was still dealing with the news of Spider-Man leaving the MCU.

Now he’s about to leave for Cleveland to film Cherry. A movie Tom knew was going to be a challenge for him. The Russo’s fought for him to be in this movie. They wanted Tom in this role more than anybody. They even got a job for Harry. You had asked Tom, when he first learned of the filming dates, if you could go with him. Since Tom knew the contents of the movie and how dark it was, he didn’t want you around that, so he said no.

Now, it’s the night before he’s leaving. You are curled up on his bed watching him pack his bag. “Don’t forget your blue light glasses.” You said.

“Already have them packed in my carry-on with my laptop and chargers.” He said to you with a smile. “Thank you though. I do forget them all the time.” You laughed.

You turned serious, “I’m going to miss you. I know you said I couldn’t go, but I still wish I could go with you.” Tom sighed.

“I know. I’m going to miss you too, but this film is just going to be dealing with a lot of serious issues and I don’t want you to have to see me like that.” He said, honestly.

“I know. Can I still call you though?” You asked sheepishly.

“Always.” He said before turning to his dresser to get socks and underwear. “So, what are your plans for the next few months?”

“I plan on helping mum. She apparently has a lot of shoots. Probably taste test all of Sam’s food.” You laughed.

“I’m so jealous. I have yet to find something I don’t like of Sam’s.” Tom said.

“He is a great cook.” Tom agreed. “Paddy apparently has a show he’s going to be on, so I’ll help him with that in any way I can. And Dad is working on a new book, so whatever he needs me to do, I’ll do.”

“You really are great, you know that?” Tom asked as he paused his packing to come sit next to you. He wrapped you in a hug. “Are you going to do anything for you?” You shrugged. “Do me a favor? Do something for you. Learn to do more for you. You help all of those around you, but you rarely do things for you. Draw more or hide away and read. Go out to a party or go do something with your friends. Remember to take care of you. Promise me, you’ll try to do that.”

“Promise.” You said. He squeezed you tighter in the hug and gave you a kiss on your head before getting up to finish his packing.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Tom finished packing and put his bags by the front door. You both got comfy on his bed and watched a movie. You were the first to fall asleep and first to wake up the next day. Tom’s and Harry’s flight wasn’t until 10 am and it was currently 630. You decided to make them a good breakfast so they would be fine until the flight gave out their lunch.

“What are you doing?” You heard a tired voice. You looked over your shoulder to see Tom walking up to sit at the counter. You smiled at him and fixed him a cup of tea.

“I’m making you and Harry breakfast.” You said cheerfully. You walked back over to the stove and finished making the eggwhite omelet. Tom was on a strict diet so you made something he could eat, but also something that he liked. You put it on a plate and set it in front of him.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Tom said. “But thank you. This looks delicious.” “What looks delicious?” Harry asked as he sat next to Tom. “Oooh. I want one.”

“It’s coming right up.” You said as you set a tea in front of him and turned back to making his omelette.

“Thank you Y/N.” Harry said, taking a sip of his freshly made tea. “Can I hire you to be my personal assistant?” You all laughed. “When we get home, I’ll treat you to dinner via Sam’s cooking.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m holding you to it.” You said. “I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“Just a few months and then we will be home for Christmas.” Tom said standing up to put his plate in the sink.

“I know. Still sucks. I hate when you leave.” You opened up. You had been holding it in. You felt bad for dropping it on him right before he leaves, but it needed to be said. “It always just feels different around here. I don’t know how to describe it, but it doesn’t feel like we are complete.”

“I know it’s not ideal to have two brothers that are constantly traveling for work. That we aren’t here for family dinners, but we are a phone call or text away. Reach out and we will try to answer as quickly as possible.” Tom said looking into your eyes. You could see that he meant them.”

“Ignore me. I’m just in my feels this morning. I’ll be okay.” You whispered. You wrapped Tom in a hug. “I’m proud of you, you know? It’s so great to see you out there doing what you love and seeing the people’s lives that you touch.”

“Thank you y/n/n. I love you.” Tom said kissing your forehead.

“Love you too.” You squeezed him tighter before pulling away and wrapping Harry in a hug. “Love you too Hairball.”

Harry scoffed at the nickname you gave him when you were both extremely young and you were mad at him. “Don’t call me that…” He paused before hugging you back. “Love you too.”

“Now you better get going before you’re late.” You said. “I also packed you small snack bags and put them in your carry ons.”

“You’re the best.” Tom said as he walked to put his shoes on. “Thank you y/n/n.” Harry said doing the same.

You watched them grab their bags and walk out of the house with one last smile. You sighed and went back to your room to take a nap. Already missing your brothers, you decided to turn on Spider-Man Homecoming.

It is now mid-October and you were missing Tom and Harry more than anything. You tried to hangout with Sam and Paddy more to try to not feel the sadness of missing your other two brothers. Paddy didn’t want to hangout with you. He was too busy hanging out with his friends and playing football. Sam was always at the restaurant or in the kitchen at your parents house. You would stay with him and watch him cook, but it wasn’t the same.

Your sleep schedule was messed up due to the fact you were staying up late watching Netflix. Looking over at the clock, it read 3 am. Pulling your phone from your bedside table, you pulled up Tom’s contact and decided to FaceTime him. It only rang for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Is everything okay?” Tom asked worriedly. You could tell he was laying in bed.

“Yeah. I just wanted to talk to you.” You answered honestly.

“It’s 3 am where you are! Why are you not asleep?” His eyes widened as he realized how late it was for you.

“I can’t. My schedules messed up. I’m fine. Did I wake you?” You asked, scared of the answer.

“No. I was just watching some TV before I went to bed. I have a 7am call time.” He said and you breathed a sigh of relief for not waking him.

“How was filming today?” You said looking at his tired eyes.

“It was good. We did a hard scene today, but it went really well. We have another hard, long day again tomorrow.” Tom rubbed the tired out of his eyes. He was just about to fall asleep when called.

“I’m sorry you’ve had some hard days.” You said sincerely.

“Thanks but it’s okay. Thankfully Harry’s here. He’s really helping me.” Tom sighed.

“I’d help you if I was there. I know it’s hard, but I’m proud of you.” You said with your eyes tearing up.

“Are you doing okay?” Tom asked concern noticing the change of tone in your voice. “Mum said you’ve been at the house a lot.”

“I’m doing okay. I went and got my nails done today with Chandra.” You said showing Tom the Marvel based nails. With Tom only being a year older than you, he got you into Marvel when you were younger. Spider-Man was always your favorite and when Tom got the role, you celebrated just as much or even more than he did.

“I like them. They’re pretty.” Tom said with a small smile. “How are you holding up though with me and Harry being gone? I haven’t asked in a while.”

You sighed and looked away from Tom. You didn’t want him to know how much you missed him, but you missed your best friend. “I’m good. Been hanging out with friends more and I help Sam when he’s at home. Mum, Dad, and I have had movie nights. It’s been good.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, still concerned. You felt a tear you had been fighting fall down your cheek. You looked away from the phone. “Y/N/N. Look at me.”

Shaking your head, “I’m fine Tom. I just miss my best friend.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.” He said.

“I’ll be okay.” You whispered.

“How about this…” Tom said. “Let me fly you out to visit. We are about to do some of the easier stuff and you can come stay with us while the scenes aren’t so intense.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m just being weird.” You said not wanting for him to be pressured into inviting you.

“Separation anxiety isn’t you being weird. It’s an actual thing.” He said sincerely. He cared about you. You didn’t know you had this issue until Tom got the role of Spider-Man and left for Atlanta. Your mum noticed you clingy to them more or your other brothers. When Tom arrived home you stuck to him like glue. Your mum decided to take you to a doctor to see if there was anything to do for you. You learned the anxiety medicine didn’t help you and talking to a therapist only went so far. All you wanted, was to be with your whole family.

“I’ll get Harry to schedule you a flight. Pack warm clothes and at least two weeks worth.” He said.

“No, Tom, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.” You fought back.

“I’m serious. Come stay with us. Harry will get your flight.” He kept fighting back.

“If you're sure.” You said softly. Tom almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m sure. I miss you too. Plus having you here may help me.” Tom said, laying back down on his pillow. You could tell he was tired, but he was staying awake for you.

“I appreciate it, T.” You spoke honestly. “I really do miss you. I love you.”

“Love you too y/n/n.” He whispered while fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Night.” Tom said before hanging up. You smiled knowing you were finally going to get to see your brother again very soon. You laid back on your bed and finally felt the exhaustion from staying up late. You could worry about what you were going to pack tomorrow.

When Tom told Harry to schedule you a flight out, Harry accidentally scheduled it too early. Tom still had some hard scenes to film. When you landed in America, he didn’t want you to come to set, but he didn’t want to leave you at home either.

Harry showed you where you could go and couldn’t. You basically only went to Tom’s trailer, the bathroom, the food tent, and Tom’s chair. Today, Tom begged you not to come because he knew the day was full of hard things. He knew what the last scene was going to be filmed and he didn’t want you to see that.

You insisted you could handle it. You didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to spend time with your brother. Tom finally gave in after you promised you would stay in his trailer during that final scene.

Throughout the day, you stayed close to Tom. When he wasn’t filming or on set, you were right beside him. He tried to be understanding of how you were feeling, but he really needed to step away from everything he’s been feeling for filming.

“How’s your sandwich?” Tom asked at dinner. It had been a long day and there was only one more thing to film before there were four days off.

“It’s good. How’s your salad?” You asked, pointing at his plate.

“It’s good.” He said nonchalantly. You knew he was craving more food. You had asked Harry to go get him a cheeseburger with fries. You looked up and noticed him carrying a bag from Five Guys.

You smiled and Tom looked over his shoulder. “Thanks for going to get that Harry.” You said as Harry sat next to you. You grabbed the bag and pulled out the burger and fries. “Eat up Tom. I know you’re hungry for more.”

“I can’t you guys.” Tom said in a defeated tone. “I’m still on this diet. I can’t. I can’t do that to everyone that’s working on this film.”

You sighed, “Tom, you have had salads everyday for two weeks. You can have one burger. You need more food.” Tom looked at you and then looked at Harry.

“I mean, I did go get it and I agree with Y/N. You do need to eat more and it will be okay. One cheeseburger won’t hurt.” Harry said. Finally Tom agreed to eating the food Harry brought. “Y/n/n are you going to set tonight?”

“No. I promised Tom I wouldn’t be there.” You answered honestly. Harry looked over at Tom shocked. Harry figured Tom would want you there since it’s such a hard scene. Maybe have someone other than him that’s familiar.

“You can come work with me.” Harry told you.

Tom looked up at him shocked. “I don’t want her to see this. It’ll be hard enough to have her watching it in the movie.”

“I think it’ll be good for her to be there. It’s a hard scene and I won’t be able to be there between takes.” Harry said. Harry was doing a new role tonight and needed to focus on that.

“It’s okay Harry. I can wait in the trailer. I brought my book.” You said with a smile. Trying to help Tom out so he doesn’t feel like he’s being teamed up on. Tom smiled at you gratefully. Harry turned to Tom and started to whisper something to him. You watched Tom’s demeanor change. He rolled his eyes before turning back to you.

“You can come. Bring your book and a blanket. You can sit in my chair.” Tom said finally giving into Harry.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting in the trailer. Promise.” You told Tom. Tom finished eating his food before standing up to go to his trailer with you and Harry following. He walked in and grabbed your book off of the counter and grabbed your blanket. “Let’s go.” Tom said as he walked out the door towards the set.

“Tom. I’m not going.” You said. Harry shook his head and started to push you towards set. “I promised I wouldn’t go.”

“Come on y/n/n. I promise it’s okay. I don’t count this as a broken promise. I want you there.” Tom said with a sigh. You decided not to keep fighting with him about it. You ran to catch up with him and grabbed the blanket and book from him. “Thank you.” He whispered. “This is going to be a difficult scene to watch, so I’m sorry for what you have to see.”

“It’s okay Tom. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” You said with a small smile.

Later that night, Tom was in the makeup trailer getting his makeup removed. You were sitting in his trailer with Harry waiting to go home. You tried to hold in your tears. You hated seeing Tom like that.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“Great.” You said forcing a smile.

Harry looked at you skeptically and then nodded. He pulled out his phone and sent the video he got to Tom. You were exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. You decided to lay down and rest your eyes until Tom got back. You were just about to fall into a deep sleep when you heard Tom walk in.

“Should I send this to mum?” Tom asked with a laugh.

“Do it.” Harry laughed. “But first, let’s go home. I think someone needs a bed.”

Tom looked over at your sleeping body. He smiled at you. Harry was right. Having you there helped him. This was probably the hardest scene he was going to have to film in the whole movie.

“Go get the car. I’ll bring her out.” Tom said as he started putting your stuff in your backpack. He quickly put his and your backpacks over his shoulder before he moved over towards you. He picked you up bridal style and made sure the blanket didn’t fall off. “Shhh. It’s just me. We’re going home.” He said when you started to wake.

Pulling up to the house, Tom decided to shake you awake this time. You woke and looked around confused before you unbuckled and walked into the house. You crashed on the couch and watched Tom set your backpack in the chair.

“How are you doing? Today was hard.” You said.

Tom picked your feet up and sat down before he placed your feet in his lap. He laid his head back. “Today sucked. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.” Tom said with a sigh.

“Want to talk about it?” You asked.

“No. There isn’t much to talk about. I just need to get out of that mental mindset.” Tom said honestly. “How are you? That had to be hard to watch.”

You finally let a tear slip. “I’m okay. I just didn’t like seeing you like that.”

“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to see the hard parts.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay. I promise. It’s scary to think people actually go through that. I don’t want to see you or anyone go through this.” You whispered.

“Hopefully this movie brings light to these situations and starts a conversation.” Tom said, giving you a kiss on the head before releasing you. “Now no more talks of this. Let’s try to forget about today and watch a movie instead.”

Tom started up a comedy to try and bring the mood up. Harry joined you after changing into his pajamas. Mid way through the movie, you fell asleep. Tom looked over at you. He knew you being here helped you, but in his head he was worried about you and everything you were seeing. It was hard to focus on you and filming.

It’s now been a year since Tom finished filming Cherry. Tom invited you to come with him to film Spider-Man No Way Home. He went three months without seeing you after the pandemic due to his heavy film schedule for Uncharted. He knew those were hard days for you since you went from spending all day with him to not even seeing him.

Now Tom was doing press for Cherry since it is due to come out in a few weeks. He set up in the living room. Harry had got a ring light to make the videos look better. You were supposed to be out while Tom was doing his few interviews for the day, but you got back early. He still had one more to go. You decided to sit in your room so you wouldn’t interrupt.

Even with your door closed, you could hear Tom talking to the interviewer. What you heard made your heart stop.

“Tom, your brother and sister were with you when filming Cherry, right?” they asked.

“They were. Harry helped on the film. Even had a small role. And my sister, Y/N, came out to visit and stayed the rest of filming.” Tom answered.

“Did having them there help you?”

“It did. This was a role I had to go to a dark place. Having them there really helped ground me and bring me back from that dark place. They definitely had my back during these times. I was actually on a strict diet throughout filming. Y/N actually made Harry go get me a cheeseburger on her first night there because she knew that I needed a little more substance. I had two weeks worth of salads and she knew I needed a little more. On nights of hard filming, we would all sit in the living room and watch a comedy because it all took us a while to calm down from the day. So having them there was very important to me.”

“That's amazing to hear.” they said. “It’s always good to have family there for you. You said there were hard filming nights. Even though it was hard, which was your favorite?”

“There was one scene that was extremely hard to film. The entire day was hard. Sadly, it was my sister’s first day there. I didn’t want her to see those scenes, but it was good to have her there. The day was a couple of scenes that dealt with something with Emily. The whole day was based on that situation. It was a variety of emotions. I had to be scared, angry, sad.” Tom said. “I actually sent my mum a video from that and she was not happy. She called me immediately to tell me she didn’t appreciate it.” He laughed.

“Can you give us a hint of what that was?” they asked.

“I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s when I’m in the truck. You’ll know when you see it because it involves Emily and it’s very hard to watch.” Tom said.

“You say it’s hard to watch and that was your sister’s first day, how did she handle it? And how did Harry handle it?” you heard them ask. They were starting to dig deeper.

“Harry was the one that filmed that scene so I could send it to my mum.” Tom laughed. He knew Nikki would give him heck for it later, but he knew it was only because she cared. “My sister actually hated watching that scene. She’ll hate me for saying this, but she cried. It scared her because she said it felt real and she didn’t want to see anyone like that.”

“That makes sense. Both of you are close in age, how are the two of yours relationship? It has to be good for you to allow her to visit during such a hard movie.”

“We are very close. She’s my best friend. I can say this because she openly talks about it and helps raise money for charities, but she has anxiety and one thing that really affects her is her separation anxiety. It was great to have her on set because she brought me back to myself, helped me get out of that dark mindset. But at times, I felt I was more worried about her and making sure she was okay. Mixing the stress of taking care of her and the stress of playing the role was hard to take on.”

You listened and felt tears build up. You made Tom’s job harder. You felt a tear fall down your face and you held back a sob so Tom couldn’t hear. You immediately went to the closest and grabbed your suitcase. You started packing your clothes. Once you were finished you set it near the door and grabbed your laptop so you could find a plane ticket. Tom walked in as you were searching.

“Why is your suitcase out?” He asked, confused.

“I’m going home.” You said shortly.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I’m just a burden to you. I don’t want you to have to worry about me while you focus on filming. I just like being in the same city as you. I didn’t mean to add stress to you.” You said as a tear slipped.

Tom sighed, “You heard?” He asked. You nodded. “Did you hear everything?”

“I didn’t need to. I heard enough.” You said honestly.

“So you didn’t hear what I said after that?” He asked. You shook your head. “I told them that it was worth it. That I would go through 20 times the stress if it meant you were happy and safe. That your anxiety wasn’t holding you back. That I used some of the stress from caring about you to help with the film. You remember the emotional scene in Morocco.” You once again shook your head. “I used the stress to make that scene. I know that sounds bad, but I think that really helped me hit the emotion I needed.”

“That was a beautiful scene. From what I saw, it’s one of my favorites for you. It’s heartbreaking, but you made the viewers feel what you were feeling. That was because of me?” Tom nodded his head.

“I’m sorry for admitting to it, but just know, if we redid all of the filming, I would have you there from day 1. I love having you around. I have all this noise around me that is trying to change me and having you here helps keep me the kid from Kingston.” Tom said. “Please don’t leave. I really do want you here.”

You looked around at your room. You then focused on your suitcase. You thought about it. “I’ll stay.” Tom smiled when you looked at him. “Only if you promise me something.”

“Anything.” He agreed.

“If I am stressing you out, in the way, or affecting your work, you tell me. I’ll stay here for a few days or I’ll go home. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Your anxiety isn't a problem. It’s something you battle and I want to help you fight.” Tom interfered.

“I know. And you will. But if it affects you, it isn’t fighting, it’s a problem. So please promise me that you’ll tell me.” You begged.

“I promise. But know you are never a burden to me. You are my best friend and I love you. I want you here. Trust me on that.” Tom said as he pulled you into a hug. “Now, are you ready to go to dinner? We have an early day on set tomorrow.”

You nodded. You knew that your anxiety was a battle but you didn’t want to bother Tom. You knew he was telling the truth when he said you weren’t a burden. You knew the thought would come back, but you had to tell yourself that it was your anxiety. Now working on your separation anxiety would be worked on at a later date.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x sister #tom holland x holland!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x sister!reader #brother!tom holland #brother!tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland rpf #cherry #tom holland sister #holland!sister #holland!reader #y/n holland #tom holland angst

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regretthatsme · 4 years ago

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Looney's Sister - Harry Potter x Fem!Lovegood!Reader

That's right bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes. I'm back. I'm so happy that I finished a oneshot. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I'm sorry I've taken so long to post. But, it's here now!

Harry didn't know when his fondness for Luna's sister, Y/N, started. He just knew that he liked her a lot. They were quite good friends, actually. A few years ago, she saw him struggling with herbology, which just so happened to be Y/N's strong suit. It quite convenient honestly, especially when you consider the fact that Y/N was have issues in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He knew from the start that his feelings for her were more than platonic. What he didn't expect was for him to fall so hard. But, how could he not when she was so perfect.

Her bubbly personality was so inviting and warm. Her eyes made e/c his favorite color. He adored her laugh; it sounded like a beautiful melody. Her smile was just as stunning.

Godric, I'm whipped, he thought. There was one issue, though. He couldn't for the life of him ask her out, ironic for a Gryffindor. What if she doesn't like me? How do I ask her out?

His mind would race into the late hours of the night, wondering how he would work up the courage to ask her out. He knew she wouldn't like something big and extravagant, for she had trouble processing lots of information at once, much like her sister. Her sister!

Harry wondered how he never thought of asking Luna before. I mean, their personalities mirrored each other almost perfectly. He quickly ran to the forbidden forest. Luna spent most of her time there.

"Hello, Harry." A dreamy voice called to him.

"Hello, Luna."

"Is there a reason you are here?"

"Umm... yeah." Harry's face became very hot suddenly, a stark contrast to the nippy weather that morning. "I-uh. I should probably come right out and say it, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated." Luna responded. Harry couldn't tell if she was sarcastic or not.

"I've fallen deeply in love with your sister, and I was wondering if you knew how I could ask her out."

Luna was clear shocked by this revelation. She thought for a few minutes before replying, "I appreciate your honesty, however I cannot say that I am too pleased with it."

Harry's face fell slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Harry, she's recently had her heart broken by another. I'm sorry, but I do not trust you with her love."

-*-*-*-

He knew he shouldn't be over thinking this. He knew that it was pointless. He knew it was only going to give him stress, but he couldn't stop as much as he tried. Who would dare hurt her? Her? The most caring, beautiful person in Hogwarts?

Needless to say, Harry's eyes were sporting some serious under eye bags the next morning.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Asked Hermione during breakfast, noting the discoloration under her friend's eyes.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"He was up late last night." Said his best friend and roommate, Ronald Weasley.

"No, I wasn't, Ron."

"Okay. Fine. You went to bed at a reasonable time." Ron said before turning to Hermione and mouthing No he didn't. Harry was about to retaliate before a small body sat down next to him. A dreamy voice rendered his speech effectively useless as a flush filled his cheeks.

"Hello Hermione, Ron. Good morning, Harry." She addressed each individually, as she always does. "How are we this morning?"

Ron smirked a small bit at his friend's face. "Oh, I'm splendid." He remarked, chuckling slightly at his friend's state. "What about you, Harry?"

Y/N seemed to perk up at the name. Her head turned to him, only now noticing the rosy hue on his cheeks. "Oh dear, you don't look so well." Her voice was distinctly quieter, almost as if she only wanted him to hear. Her hand slowly came up to feel his forehead. "You're absolutely scalding! And it's clear you haven't gotten any sleep."

She panicked slightly.

Ron tried to hold in a laugh. "Oh, yes. Harry was hacking and wheezing last night. It was horrible."

Harry's eyes were about the size of saucers. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

"Trust me." He mouthed back.

"He's in no shape to go to class. Someone must take care of him." Harry just realized what Ron was trying to do. Wanker.

"I would, but Hermione and I have a test first period." Hermione nodded too, quickly becoming aware of his scheme. "Looks like you're going to need to take care of him. I really wish I could help."

Y/N's eyes never left Harry's face. "Be sure to tell the teachers about Harry's predicament." She said as she dragged him out of the great hall, despite his protests. She knew the password was as she was a frequenter of the Gryffindor common room. He was led to his dorm and was forced onto the bed.

"Y/N, I'm gonna tell you one more time. I'm not-"

"Shhhhhh." She cut him off. "Harry, relax. I can't remember the last time you did." She did have a point. He couldn't remember the last time he had a stress free hour, much less day. "I'm going to go to the kitchen and whip up something. Get some rest, alright?" He nodded his head. His eyelids slowly fluttered and closed. He didn't really dream, but he felt a sort of presence. It felt like a giant hug.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he woke to the sound of Y/N closing his bedroom door. "I made a soup with some clowort root mixed in. It should help with your symptoms." She said. "And, there is some water to wash it all down."

"You never cease to amaze me." He said rather bluntly in his sleepy delirium. He took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted quite like the food in the great hall, but there was something distinctly different from it. There was an unmistakable taste of... home. He quickly went for more.

"Slow down, Harry!" Y/N's volume raised ever so slightly. "Consuming large amounts of clowort root can lead to some unwanted side effects."

"Like what?"

She gestured for him to lead forward, as if telling him a secret. "People tend to make quite irrational decisions when copious amounts of clowort are in their system." She pulled back and gave a stern yet loving gaze.

"I don't know. I've eaten a decent amount and I don't feel a thing." He said indifferently. She simply rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

"Hey. I uh... I heard from Luna that you had some trouble with a boy and I'm here if you need to talk or anything." He knew that he probably shouldn't invite his crush to talk openly about a romantic partner she had, but he would listen to her talk about anything and everything just to hear her voice.

"Oh. It's nothing. Just a stupid fling that hadn't even lasted a month." Y/N said, her eyes becoming more solemn looking.

"It's just... if I had a girlfriend," especially one as perfect as you, "I would treat her better than that."

"I can see the brash decision making has already taken effect." Y/N jokes lightly, but only was laughing at it.

"I'm serious, you know." He said, grabbing her hand and lacing her fingers through his.

"Harry, you're not thinking straight-"

"Ever since we met each other and you helped me with your helped me with my homework. You were so kind."

"Harry, please don't-"

"I understand if you don't feel the same way, I wouldn't be so keen on falling in love someone who nearly dies every other weekend either, but I needed you to-"

"Harry." Her voice was ferm enough to cut off his incoherent ramblings. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. "You're not well. You're saying things you don't mean-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Harry, I can't have my heart broken again." Her eyes held a certain glossiness to it that he hadn't seen before. Her voice was almost breaking. "You are amazing and sweet and beautiful and... well, words can hardly describe how much I admire you. But," Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. "You're just doing this because you're sick and under the influence. You don't mean it-"

"Yes, I do!" Harry giggled slightly. He was getting a bit frustrated at this point. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

She looked deep into his emerald eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and they weren't lying. Every emotion, every thought running through his pretty head, everything could be seen in them. It was so intense, she could only make eye contact for a few seconds.

"Nothing." Y/N whispered. Harry's head snapped to her. "I believe you, Harry." They sat in silence for a while, processing the revelation that just took place. It was a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. The apprehension of the unknown was creeping upon them. Now what? Where do we go from here?

Harry was the first to make a move. He held his arm out, inviting her join him on his, rather small in hindsight, bed. She happily accepted and curled into his side. She was practically on top of him due to the size of the bed, yet he couldn't be happier. Neither could she.

Bonus:

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?" Y/N was positive that Luna's cries could be heard throughout the entire castle.

"Luna, please calm down-" She tried to console.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

#harry potter #harry james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter fluff #luna lovegood

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hops-hunny · 4 years ago

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You Can Be the Boss

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: N/A but it’s based off of this rambling here

Summary: Women are beautiful, but they sure don’t make ‘em like her.

Warnings: Weed, Alcohol, Mentions of sex.

A/N: I wrote this to cope with the copious amounts of work I had due but I finished it all so now we celebrate!

Hogwarts had many things but one thing it lacked severely was normality. Not that it was a problem, nobody who attended Hogwarts was normal but it didn’t stop a portion of muggle born students from feeling a bit homesick to things their muggle friends did at their own schools. That’s how the talent shows started. At first, the students tried to get it officiated by the school. Dumbledore thought it was a wonderful idea!....if it was professor supervised and when it turned out that Snape was the only professor with enough freetime on his hands, the idea of having it being school ran quickly flew out the window. But looking back on it now, many were happy they went with the idea of going behind the professors backs. It wasn’t like they weren’t aware, they just had no proof of it all happening. The atmosphere of the talent shows were different from ordinary talent shows, however.

For starters, anything went. Any talent you had you were encouraged to bring it no matter how big or small it was or if it was “school appropriate”. But the pro to this was also booze and bud, meaning that everyone had a good time no matter what. Although, as it would turn out there were many talented people at Hogwarts. So, for the past few months every Friday everyone would gather in the room of requirement, watching the many ups and downs of performances. Neville started frequenting there as often as he could. It was a win-win, his friends got free entertainment and he had a chance to make some money from selling to chumps with too much cash on their hands. What better way was there to spend the night?

His hazel eyes snapped up at the feeling of his blunt being ripped out of his hand. He went to swear, glaring at whoever was stupid enough to do that but quickly stopped as he saw who it was. He watched with wide eyes as the tip of it went between her pretty (l/c) lips, exhaling smoke. (Y/n) (L/n). She was one of those girls you either knew or you didn’t but more than likely, you knew her. Before 5th year, no one so much as spared her a glance but after a very fortunate late puberty in their current year (7th) she was slowly becoming all anyone could talk about. It was truly amazing what a haircut and a bit of weight in your hips could do for your social life. He eyed her curiously as she looked down at him.

“You comin’ tonight?” she asked, exhaling another puff of smoke into his face. (Y/n) put the joint back in his hand, moving the heavy guitar case into her now free hand.

“Yeah. ‘Spose I am.” He mumbled, eyes trailing down the expanse of her plush thighs. They were on full display due to the skirt she wore that left nothing to the imagination. His eyes locked with her (e/c) ones as she hummed, nodding as she took the blunt back from him walking off. She flashed him a smile once more, winking as she turned the corner going merlin knows where.

“Oi! What does she think she’s doing? You really gonna let her take the blunt from you like that just because she’s fit?” Ron complained, glaring at the boy who was set with the rest of their group. Neville shrugged, turning his eyes back to his book as he turned the page.

“If you’re so bothered by it why don’t you go take it back yourself?” Neville sassed. They all looked at Ron waiting for a response, laughing as he had nothing to say but a small ‘piss off’ under his breath.

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

Neville wasn’t one to put too much into his appearance. He’d usually just throw on a sweater vest over one of his uniform shirts and call it a day. However after the conversation he had had with (Y/n) earlier, he couldn’t help but wanna look nice. Was she flirting with him? He sighed as he glanced at his appearance in the mirror for a bit. ‘I doubt it.’ he thought. He shook the negative thoughts out of his head, packing his satchel with a few different strains. Just because some pretty girl was batting her pretty little eyes at him didn’t mean he was going to forget the reason he went to these things in the first place. The only other time Neville made this much money was Gryffindor common room parties and even then, it was only by a little.

But even as he was checking his appearance once again, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift. “Why am I wigging out? It’s not like we haven’t talked before.” He said out loud to himself. (Y/n) was a frequent buyer from him and even though he didn’t know her personally, she was one of the few people whose faces he remembered. At first, he was extremely annoyed by her. Who did she think she was showing up at his dorm at 3AM just to buy a bit of fucking jane? Every wednesday at the same time, she’d show up at his door (in a negligee that was far too short might he add) with that dopey look on her face asking to buy. And every single time without a doubt, he’d sell it to her. He had to admit, after a while he even started to enjoy the girl’s appearance. It gave him something to look forward to during his mundane school week.

“Ready to go, Nev? If we leave now, we can use a secret passage my brothers’ showed me.” Ron said, opening the door to Neville’s door. The lanky boy cleared his throat, giving the boy a nod as he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Without another word, they both began their way ready for the night to unfold.

As usual, the talent show didn’t disappoint...for all the wrong reasons. Even though the cringe worthy performances were top notch entertainment and he had already made quite a bit of money, he still couldn’t stop from searching the crowd for a certain head of (h/c) hair. Where was she? After the stunt she had pulled earlier, he was sure she would be here. She had some nerve doing that and then not showing up. However, as he turned his gaze back to the stage, he saw the woman of the hour herself. She was in an oversized crochet sweater dress and a pair of combat boots. His eyes looked up in wonder as she took the stage, sitting on a wooden stool that was placed from the last sad excuse of a performance.

“It’s a bloody shame that she’s so fucking hot. Poor thing is going to embarrass herself singing up there.” Ron said, taking a sip from the beer he had in his hand. Neville nodded in agreement, taking a hit from his blunt but not really paying mind to his friend. It was hard to do so when the girl of his dreams was on the stage a mere foot away from him. He was absolutely intoxicated by her (and the few shots he had taken a bit ago) but he had to agree it would suck when she-”

“You taste like the fourth of July

Malt liquor on your breath, my, my”

She sang into the microphone softly. Neville’s jaw dropped in awe at the sound of her voice which was nothing short of angelic. He wasn’t the only one who was stunned considering the whole crowd went silent, a stark contrast from the loud chatter and laughter from before. He watched as she strummed at the guitar in her hands, looking up from the ground into the crowd. Mesmerized wasn’t even the right word to describe the state he was in.

“I love you but I don’t know why…”

His eyes were focused on her lips, taking in every word she said. Harry nudged him, mouthing the words ‘look up’ to him as a small pause had come into the song. Neville looked at him confused before trailing his eyes up, gasping when he saw that hers were locked on his own. She smiled and flashed him a wink before continuing her song, leaning in forward. His own body began to subconsciously drift forward to but at the last second she pulled away and continued to sing.

"Did you see that? She definitely wants me." Seamus boasted confidently. The others looked at him dumbfounded at the fact he could get even more idiotic than ever before.

"Don't be fucking dumb mate! She was clearly looking at me." Ron chimed in, causing another round of even more exasperated looks to be thrown the ginger's way. They truly were dumb and dumber.

"I-I think both of you are wrong. (Y/n) was looking at.." Harry trailed off as the girl stood up, dancing around the stage with her guitar as she continued to sing. Not a single pair of eyes weren't on her at the moment. Could you blame anyone? When a beautiful girl with the voice of a siren is on stage, you'd be a fool not to. However, dumb and dumbers’ argument ceased as she made very clear eye contact with their awkward friend.

“You can be the boss, daddy

You can be the boss”

“That’s all me boys.” Neville said, a triumphant smirk taking over his place as Dean leaned over to give him a fist bump. As much as (Y/n) had him wrapped around her finger, it appeared she was wrapped around his too. All the angry glares being sent his direction were only fuel to the pride he felt growing in his chest. Such a pretty girl, the same pretty girl who plagued all his wet dreams and shower thoughts, was not only on stage singing in front of him, but directly to him as well. She reached a hand forward, tips of her fingers lightly brushing against his flushed cheeks.

“I like you a lot, I like you a lot

Don’t let it stop”

“This is totally unfair. One of the hottest chicks in our year and she’s pining over Longbottom.” Seamus grumbled, grimacing as the liquor went down his throat hard. Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Jealous much?” he asked no one in particular, as that could be said about most of the guys they were sitting with.

“Bad to the bone, sick as a dog

You know that I like, like you a lot

Don’t let it stop”

Neville felt his own lips curl up into a smile at the sight of the one that belonged to the angel in front of him. However the cute moment didn’t last long cause once again, Ron chimed in with something else.

“Neville? Bad? He still sleeps in pajama sets!” he exclaimed quietly, earning a ‘shh!’ from Harry. The boy in question leaned forward, looking at his ginger friend.

“Is this really coming from the boy who needs Mummy’s howler to fall asleep at night?” that shut him right up. Harry snorted, high fiving him for bringing up the embarrassing piece of information.

The girl continued to sing, eyes never leaving Neville’s for a second. Ron and Seamus’s petty comments had ceased as well. Even though they weren’t the one receiving attention, they could still admit the girl had pipes on her. When the song was over she stood up, bowing as the silence of the crowd quickly erupted in cheers and claps from the breathtaking performance. There were a few more people left but no one paid much mind to them. He found himself feeling bad for them. Even if they were good, none of them could top the performance of the night.

As the night began to come to a close, (Y/n) found herself over to Neville again parking herself in his lap which he gladly accepted. She looked up at him, smiling shyly. It was almost comedic due to the words she had so sinfully sung to him only 45 minutes ago. Neville ignored the way his friends gawked at him. He’d deal with that another time.

“Come back to my room and split a spliff?” she asked, looking down as she picked at her fingers. He grabbed her hands, leaning in close to her.

“Only if I can eat your pussy afterwards.” he said confidently. He said it quiet enough to not draw attention but just loud enough that his friends would hear. (Y/n) felt her face grow warm as she nodded, hopping up from his lap as she dragged him off to her room.

Neville 1, blokes 0.

Extra:

“Seriously?! Is it really that easy? What does he have that I don’t?” Seamus said, mind running over the times he’d attempted saying things like that. The only place it had gotten him was on the ground after he had his balls kicked!

“It’s gotta be the weed. After all, who wouldn’t wanna sleep with the weed man? Free pot!” Ron exclaimed, trying to rationalize what had just happened.

“Aren’t you the residential booze man of Hogwarts? If that was the case, you’d have an easier time with women too.” Dean said, causing Harry to nod in agreement. Ron simply grumbled, slamming his empty bottle down as he walked off from the cackling group of blokes.

#harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x y/n

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physicalturian · 3 years ago

Text

[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 7

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Words : 11 509

Archive of our own

Warning: nudity / Intimacy / Prepare some tissues

Inspired by those works : First Second Third on Twitter

— Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

I am seeing him again today, was the only thought running without ever stopping in my mind. Thrill and excitement were filling my entire being. That energy was put to good use by walking a lot, I barely saw time fly by. We did stop too many times for my taste, but complaining would do me no good. Instead, I was counting down the remaining distance until we reached the estate. I received a few comments from the most daring recruits, when my pace started getting too fast. Uchiyama was the recruit in question, he did not feel one ounce of fear towards me, even knowing I was his captain. He had put a hand on my shoulder and frowned. “Captain, are we in a hurry or something?” was what he had told me the time I dared speed up.

Chuckling, almost bashfully, I’d shaken my head and slowed down, “You are right, there is no rush. Should we take a break and eat?” When I heard the small voices behind agreeing, we all thought it best to settle for a while and have lunch. It did not take them long to finish their meal, even amidst their laughter and jokes. I was glad to see them so carefree after all they had been through. The look in their eyes had changed from the time they had joined the corps; they had lived through events that shaped the soul in the most awful ways, and I could see it in the absence of a glimmer in their gaze. Even with that change, I had them alive by my side and matured, it was the closest I could get to a success.

Losing myself in thoughts, I pondered more.

We had suffered losses, but what better way to mourn than to remember the good times we had and to keep living? To best honor the dead is to live a life we would define as worth it. Not to let others define it, but to feel in the depth of our core that we made the best of it, in our own way. Then again, everyone mourned differently. Takeshi and Daisuke were proof of that. The former had needed a lot of time alone; everyone had been there to support him, trying to joke around and to keep things as they were before all of it happened. Daisuke, while he kept a huge smile on his face, saw more than he should have at such a young age. He played it off, he kept his armour on, even if sorrow was written all over his face.

Many recruits were aware their friends died somehow, but they did not see it unfold in front of their eyes. But Daisuke had seen his partner get killed in front of him. It left him scarred, in the depth of his being, thatI knew from the relentless nights I spent by his side trying to calm his night terrors. Only time could help with the things he had gone through, but being with others that had lived through some of those things with him also had helped greatly. Seeing them knit-tight close was heartwarming.

It almost made me forget what was coming, what we were all getting ready for. Blinking out of my thoughts, I had come to the realization I was not participating much in the conversation.

I kept a certain distance from them when I was eating a bit further away. However, the distance was more than physical. I hated myself for doing so, but I could not let them get too close in case I lost them during this last battle. That thought crossed my mind too many times during this entire mission. Every time one of them came up to me for help, for advice, or even friendship, I would welcome them, but my heart would tell me it was a bad idea. Yet, I kept telling them to not hesitate if they needed to talk. A wrong move was the only way I would describe it, but I was their mentor, and we all needed some reassurance from time to time. I was the main provider of that reassurance, no matter how much I tried to talk sense into my actions of getting close to them.

“Captain! We should resume, I believe we just might arrive by lunch if we walk a bit faster,” Hana said enthusiastically. She helped everyone pack after I told her we could do that, adding that it would be great to have a warm meal and see everyone. I kept to myself the excitement I was feeling to finally see Kyojuro again; it was hard to do so with the little shivers I would get. The weather was far from cold, but the idea of seeing his beautiful face again, to be finally able to hold him, to enjoy more of him than that fleeting moment at the fireworks when our lips finally met, it sent energy coursing through my body.

As I was leading everyone, I could hear the loudest of my recruits talk in what they thought was a whisper, “Come on Jin, do you like the Captain? Is that why you’re all-“ Not wanting Jin to combust in embarrassment, I called out over my shoulder sternly, “Uchiyama, leave him alone. I suggest you learn the difference between admiration and love,” Pausing, I quickly added in a lighter tone, “Anyone would be amazed by my fighting skills, I could take you all in a fight,” I huffed jokingly. A few of them laughed and told Uchiyama he should keep his mouth shut, even adding that if the Captain was the one to reprimand him, he had fucked up. Seeing how everyone resumed talking merrily together, Daisuke approached me, bumping my shoulder, a bit too familiar for my taste but I let him.

“Say, you’re a bit quiet in the front. Is everything alright? You don’t seem excited to return to the estate,” Daisuke said, worry laced in his tone. His demeanor made him look smaller than he actually was, he acted shy and unsure of his movements, but all of that disappeared when he entered a fight. It was interesting to know he was the one I had seen fight with determination, with no hesitation in his motions, only raw strength capable of cutting body parts. He was the same man that had been by my side the entire month and throughout fights even as fear had overrun his body. Daisuke was a great addition to the corps and to my closer circle, even if I wanted to keep him away from me in case I lost him.

Looking at him with a playful smile, I lowered my tone and whispered, “If I may be honest with you, I am more than excited to return. However, it will not do us any good to have me all over the place,” I huffed a laugh, surprising Daisuke. A curious brow rose on his expressive face, “I’ve never seen you like this! Is there something waiting for you at the estate? Wait—is it the person you’ve been exchanging letters with?” He asked a bit too rapidly, his speech faster than usual from how thrilled he was. It made me chuckle more, my face heating up lightly, but I could blame it on the long trek we had started and not tell him I was flustered at the mere thought of Kyojuro. “It is, I have someone waiting for me,” and no words can really express how much I miss him, I thought, nodding with a chuckle.

“Can I ask who it is? I am curious now!” He asked in hushed whispers, a genuine smile adorning his features. Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes at how childish he sounded. But, it was heartwarming to see his interest, so I replied, “If you must know, it is the Fire Pillar-“ “Sir Rengoku! That is so grand! An intense man indeed, but definitely not as intense as sir Himejima, I remember my training with him…” He then started talking about his experience with Gyomei, I listened intently. For some reason, I preferred having him talk about himself than having him prying in my personal life. I still felt odd mentioning I was with Rengoku, no matter how much I loved him, simply because I was not sure people would take it well that we are having our own fun while a big battle was brewing.

I enjoyed having Daisuke talk by my side as we made our way back to the Butterfly Estate, of course I would not let him have a monologue, I would intervene and ask questions. Everyone was bantering light-heartedly behind us, which almost made the situation normal; I did not know if it was on purpose, to try to keep this faux-semblance of normality or if they were really carefree. The latter would be hard to believe, considering all they had been through recently, but I liked the idea of still having them optimistic and hopeful. How ironic.

The further we walked, the faster my heart was beating. I thought talking with Daisuke would help calm my rapidly beating heart, but all it did was embarrass me. I would sometimes stammer, my speech being faster than what it would usually be. That’s when I decided to keep my tongue in check and not speak as much as I would have liked. Daisuke did not find any inconvenience to that; I had seen his short smile the few times his gaze would look at the way my hand was clenching the handle of my sword. If I did not do that, I would have been drumming my fingers or playing with my hands from how stressed I was.

It took us a few hours of walking to finally reach the estate. Fortunately, the sun was high above our heads, meaning we had arrived around midday. It means more time with him, I thought eagerly. I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from running to the doors and tried my hardest to slow my pulse down. Everyone was chattering happily, some saying they could use a bath, others craved a bowl of rice, and I knew the quiet ones were longing for a good night’s sleep in a warm futon.

I longed for his arms. I wanted to run all around the estate to find him and throw myself at him, not caring if anyone was watching, not caring if he’d fall down. Would he be as excited as I was? Would he allow me to be this open? I am sure he would, he has never been discrete even before we officially got together, I thought with a smile.

“Captain, you can go find him if you’d like! I’ll get everyone to their room-“ “No, it’s alright. I am not that desperate,” a lie. A blatant lie. The pressure in my chest was insufferable, my insides were churning, more shivers ran down my spine with each step I took towards the mansion. If I put more thought into being aware of my entire body, I would feel how my feet were uncoordinated and my hands were clammy. Excitement was at its peak, and I knew I was more than desperate. I was aching to hold him, to touch him, to love him… “If you say so! We should hurry and get some food,” Daisuke startled me out of my thoughts.

Telling everyone to walk ahead, I made sure to secure the gate once we had stepped inside. They all seemed as excited as children on a field trip to the forest. I had a hard time feeling like that because my mind kept wandering to the thought of Kyojuro. When the recruits entered the estate, I stepped around the building and made my way to where I believed Rengoku could have been training his group. I made sure to hide my presence to not startle him and keep him focused. “One, two, three, and again! The other way, one, two, slash! Good work, good work! You are all improving greatly, I am sure we can go even further! Let’s try this again,” Hearing his voice made my heart burst with joy, but I kept my composure and leaned from behind the wall to catch a glimpse of his features.

I was caught off guard when I realized a new scar was adorning his beautiful face. While it was covered by an eye patch, I could see the pinkened skin on his cheek. All my excitement turned into panic, what had I missed? What had happened that left him like that? “You! Come here, try with me. If you manage to hit me, everyone gets a break, let’s begin!” I heard him speak loudly, his voice roaring like thunder as always. I got startled when he had called out the recruit, then realized he was not talking to me and sighed in relief.

He was smiling broadly, his hair sticking to his face as usual even if it was tied back. He did not seem to mind one bit to be lacking part of his sight and yet I could not help but feel pity. Would he want that? I do not think so, but there was no helping it. I wanted to interrupt him and talk to him aside, but seeing him training so hard, his determination unchanged and his skills just as sharp, I had to let him work.

Deciding to leave him alone until he would retire to his chambers, I turned around and was about to walk back to my recruits when my path was blocked by someone. That someone being the Sound Pillar.

“You’re back, why don’t you go talk to him?” He puffed his chest, his arms low on his stomach, hands hidden in the huge sleeves of his attire, as he looked at me with what looked like disdain. He seemed changed too; just like Rengoku, he had an eye patch. His was a lot less simple however, it was covered with little jewels. The married man was not wearing his Pillar outfit either, no. Instead, he had his hair down and had opted for a kimono that was very loose on the top, enough to show off his muscles. While I wanted to think he was showing off, the weather was warm and heavy, which could explain his attire. Trying to act casual, I shrugged, “He is busy,” I said off-handedly, looking to the side.

“See, you can’t look away now! It’s awkward enough that you’ve stared and all,” He grumbled, I quickly apologized, meeting his eyes again with a small smile. “God, you’re making this so awkward and for what?” He scoffed, annoyed, before gesturing for me to follow him with a motion of his head; as I did, I asked in all seriousness, “Do not be frustrated at me, how would you feel if when you returned from a long mission everyone had changed drastically?” The man had since calmed down and looked over his shoulder, his gaze observant and calculating. “Change is a big word, don’t you think? I like to say we were sketches, drafts, and now we are the final product, that is all.” He said, in the hopes of sounding poetic perhaps. “Each stroke is what makes the art, right? You paint over the lines you don’t like; you leave the one you feel makes it better, and sometimes when you accidentally brush over the paper, it looks great. Accidents are great.”

Offering him a slight chuckle, not really getting his metaphor, I nodded as I sat down when he did. He had guided us back inside, in one of the tea rooms and had gestured for me to pour us a cup each. I did not comment on his words. “What happened?” I asked as I brought the burning cup to my lips. It was not the greatest weather to drink such a warm beverage, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. “You cannot ask someone how they got their scar-“ “Uzui, I am serious. Is there anyone that did not make it? Why was I not made aware of all the damage everyone had taken?” His demeanor changed greatly. While he had an air of playfulness, light-heartedness even, seconds ago, now he looked at me sternly.

Sighing, he leaned back on one hand and brought one knee closer to his chest, “The district was attacked, I am retired, nothing more,” He paused, giving me a long stare before continuing, “For the others, it happened at the swordsmith village. No one died, I think Ren took the most damage and he is doing great, as you’ve seen,” I had. I had seen how he looked, but even behind this enthusiastic attitude, I was certain he was exhausted and in pain, he had shared that at least through his letters.

I felt hurt that he had not told me about his injury, but I could not feel anger yet. He must have had a good reason to do so, and to find out I would have to talk with him. “Are you retiring with your wives or will they be continuing-“ “Of course I’m retiring with my gals! I’m just here to help train recruits, they need to be in perfect shape if they want to be able to carry my legacy,” He said with a loud laugh, I joined him in his joy with more modesty.

He had indeed not changed much, but there was still something different about him. Uzui had always been mature, as much as it pained me to admit it, but he seemed even more so now. What had he seen at the district, or perhaps had been through, that shaped him like that? I could see in his eyes he wanted all of this to be over, he wanted peace, to return to his wives’ arms and to relax. The time was nearing when he would be able to do so. And when that time comes, I will have a sunken feeling in my chest that will only be shaken off by our victory.

“You’re still stupid to not go talk to him, the man’s been blabbering without ever stopping about you,” He quirked a brow, looking at me curiously and added, “I do not know what you’ve been exchanging in those letters of yours, but it fired him up to a point where we can barely have him take a break,” Leaning forward, he took a sip of his tea then raised his index as he added “The recruits are definitely paying the price, I hope you’ll apologize to them.” A laugh of relief and joy escaped my lips upon knowing Rengoku had been encouraged by my letters. However, I did not know which part had had him in such a state; was it the dream of a peaceful life together or my lewd words? Whichever it was, a funny feeling settled in my stomach.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the small table in front of us, “I am glad it helped him as much as it helped me, I will admit it was very tense out there and-“ I paused, shaking my head, “I’m sure it is not of your interest how everything went down, so tell me,” Looking up at him again, I smiled and continued, making sure not to shove my cup with my elbow, “What made you want to retire? What happened in the district that led you to this decision?” His face turned sour, his gaze diverting to the cup he was holding for a short moment. Slowly, he set it down and looked at his lap a moment before lifting his head high once again. “This,” He spat, pulling his left sleeve to show his hand, or lack thereof. It was still bandaged, but I was not sure it was because it was still healing.

From his attitude, he seemed angry to show it, if not ashamed. What I knew was that he did not need pity, so I held back from showing shock on my face. Instead, I breathed out, “I can understand the change in career,” His face lit up in surprise, then he let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, kind of hard to fight now. But hey, that doesn’t mean I can’t please my women,” He said with a wiggle of his fingers. I had to give him a look at how vulgar it sounded. I still huffed a chuckle, “A lot of people are attracted to scars, I am sure Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru find you just as charming.”

I was taken aback when his cheeks turned redder. He tried to cover it by taking a sip from his cup, but I had seen it and found it relieving that even this loud man could be flustered from genuine compliments. “They’ve been great, I should be glad they’re not leaving,” I surprised myself when I reacted by instinct and leaned over the small table to hit the top of his head. The clutter of the cup hitting the tatami echoed, but I did not pay it any mind. “They are anything but shallow! How could you believe for even a second they would have left your side?” Seeing his eye widen in shock made me realize I had been louder than I had meant to be, and that maybe I had taken his words at heart. His situation could be compared to Rengoku’s, and if my lover had spoken those words to me, I would have reacted the same way I did right now.

“I am sorry for the outburst,” I whispered, sitting back on the pillow. “You have been through so much with them. So, even if insecurities are hard to reason with… you must realize how much they love you just from knowing they stood by your side even when you were the loudest man on earth, I would even say annoying,” I finished jokingly while still meaning every word. A change in his appearance would never erase all that they had been through together, I could only hope he would realize that.

He was looking outside while I spoke, and when I was done, he smiled sincerely, “I don’t need your speech, I am awesome, I know it,” He huffed, giving me a side look before adding, “But thank you, I am sure someone else would love to hear those words,” I knew full well who he meant, and I had planned on speaking them to him too, whether he needed to hear those words or not. If I was being honest with myself, fear was my first feeling upon seeing Kyojuro scarred, the second one was admiration and perhaps it added a charm to his bright face. A roguish look that I might become fond of without needing to put too much thought into it.

After this heartwarming talk Uzui and I had, he told me about what happened while I was away. How a lot of them almost died at the Red District, but also how they had defeated one of the Upper Ranks Six demons. From what he had told me, the fight was rough, but they had pulled through with little losses. The three young recruits that had been sent there while I was still here had pushed through and were now training with the Pillars. He briefly mentioned the fight at the Swordsmith Village, but since he was not there he only repeated what he had been told or what he had read in the reports he had been allowed to overview. He had not been able to see Rengoku’s report, but he had seen him come back, face and back bloody.

I felt sick hearing his storytelling, but kept a composed face. It was hard to fight the urge to run to Kyojuro and tell him all the things he wanted to hear, to hold him close and to reassure him. If I could, I would tell him to go back to bed and rest, I would even promise him I’d sing to him every day, every night, without ever stopping if that was what was needed to have him safe.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. It would be selfish to do so, and he was doing great. At least, that was the façade he was showing. The truth is, I was not convinced he was alright, but Uzui’s words gave me hope that my lover was actually doing fine.

We talked for a long hour to catch up. It was enjoyable, even if we would usually bicker, we were adults and it felt great to be able to talk as such. What made us part ways was the grumble of my stomach after a while; it came with not joining the recruits for lunch.

I was told to go eat and rest, not only by Uzui but also by Sumi who had entered the tea room in case we needed anything. Dutifully, I followed their order and went to have a nice meal before going back to my room to unwind. It felt out of place reading and relaxing when people were training for a war. None had any will to take part in it, but as Gyomei said, one should not stop living in times of war.

So, relax I did.

I ended up daydreaming too many times on each page. My mind would drift off to the man I longed to embrace and caress, the one that was diligently working to improve the skills of the trainees only steps away from me. Oh, how I missed those warm days when I would practice in front of him, only to have him stand by me and touch me in innocent ways that would heat up my body in seconds.

With all the daydreaming I was doing, I decided to write my last report to focus my energy somewhere more useful before having a discussion with each of my recruits. I was able to do so since some had yet to go to sleep; those who did seemed to be sleeping peacefully from what I could see. Those who were still fully awake were talking together, trying to get their minds out of the dark thoughts that were plaguing them. They all welcomed me to their late-afternoon card games accompanied by deep conversations. It was relaxing somehow, even if we talked a little about what happened during our mission.

It all came to an end after a while when Kiyo slid open the door to the recruits’ dormitory and hurried to my side. Turning around to look at her with a confused expression on my face, she brought a hand to my ear, hiding her mouth as she whispered, “Rengoku is in his chambers, he is retiring for the night,” She stepped back, smiling happily. My face flushed rapidly, how did she know I was waiting for him to be alone to join him? Uzui was the obvious answer. Had he told the three girls to be on the lookout and to warn me as soon as he retired? Perhaps… If it was indeed the case, I could only be grateful.

I nodded, thanking her before excusing myself to the ones that had yet to fall asleep. Among them, Daisuke. He grinned broadly, “Have fun, Captain!” I threw him a dirty look that hopefully quenched his audacity, but it did nothing to help. The swordsman’s smile only widened before giving me a thumbs up. I shook my head with a scoff and a small smile before leaving.

Once I stepped outside the dormitory and made my way downstairs, I realized how quiet the estate was. It was one of those rare nights when we could hear the cicadas louder than anyone else around the place. Most of the lights were off, people had had their meal earlier than usual to go to sleep before the sun had even time to set. They were probably exhausted from training hard, and sleep must have hit them the moment their head hit the pillow, which was understandable from how intense the work they were doing was.

As I made my way around the estate, I was careful not to make a sound with my steps. I had left my getas down the stairs and had opted to walk about without them, only in my socks; it was safer if I did not want to awaken the sleeping beasts in the mansion. Some doors were open, which brought in fresh air inside, something very welcome after a long hot day. It was refreshing. Furthering my steps around, I noticed a light was still lit in Giyuu’s room. In all discretion, I went inside and blew it off. I had to hold back a chuckle when I saw he had the three most recent recruits in his room, poor thing, I thought. The demon girl that was also there was respectfully sleeping in her futon, the three others were all over one another. Only Giyuu was left far away, perhaps he knew how wild their sleep got and chose a safer spot.

I had to pause in my trek when the floor creaked under my steps. A moment passed before I could leave the room safely once I made sure they were all still asleep. The next stop was Rengoku’s room. As I approached his room, I hesitated for a moment to call it our room in my head, it did feel nice to call something ours. Huffing to myself, I looked ahead and saw the flickering of the light inside; it was a relief to see he was not asleep, it meant I could catch up with him.

Choosing not to knock, I stepped inside. To my surprise, he was not there. His haori was laying on the ground, but he was nowhere to be found. The worst scenario came to mind as I considered the idea that he had been taken; with heavier steps, I looked around only to see him sitting outside on the veranda. A sigh of relief left my lips; seeing him after so long made my heart soar and left me frozen on the spot for what felt like ages until I found the strength to step closer to him. Calling his name softly I had hoped he would turn around, but he was left unmoving.

It was surprising to be able to catch him off guard, but I jumped on the opportunity and made my way to him. I stepped down the small step separating the veranda and the grass to stand in front of Rengoku’s sleeping form. His arms were crossed, his usual determined frown had left his face, leaving him relaxed and soft-looking. Oh, I had missed him so much.

His eyepatch was on his lap, and by his side were some paper, a pen and ink. His dominant hand was covered in the latter, it was adorable to see and even funny, but I was not here to mock. I did not glance at what he had been writing, instead I pushed back the hair that was covering his face, leaning in and kissed his forehead, then his brow where the scar was crossing from a bit higher on his forehead down to his cheekbone. I felt him stir a bit in his sleep, his head moving on the beam on which it was resting as a frown drew itself on his face. Smiling, I leaned back and started humming a song I had sung to him many times, whether it had been in times of boredom or when he could not fall asleep. My goal was to wake him up subtly, calmly and without startling him.

That did not work out as I had thought.

Without even opening his eyes, Rengoku reached out for me. I stepped back in time to avoid his grip, then whispered his name hurriedly. This time, he woke up quickly and let his arm fall to his side when he realized it was me; his expression turned into one of surprise then into a look of sadness. Quickly, his eyes teared up, I rushed to his form and wrapped my arms strongly around him. “You are back already,” He breathed joyfully, his hand threading through my hair as he pulled me closer. “I am back,” I nodded, gripping his back tighter only to have him wince lightly.

I let go rapidly and tried to pull away to look at him, but he did not let go, “Give me more time, please, I need to hold you—come let’s sit!” Without ever letting go of me, he sat down then had me rest both of my knees on either side of him while he sat crossed-legged and wrapped his arms around my form. I held him just as tight, my arms around his head instead as I held him against my chest while my cheek was against his head. The angle was bad for my neck, but I did not care one bit. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest more strongly than it had ever been and warmth was spreading all through my body.

“Would it be alright if I did not let you go until the morning?” He mumbled against my chest. His words were inarticulate from how he was pressing himself against me. “I would really like that, but first I said I wanted to worship you… Right?” I whispered softly, kissing the side of his head before trying to cradle his beautiful face in my hands. He kept his face against it, not moving, his hands gripping the back of my kimono a bit tighter. “There was a reason it took me so long to reply to your letters, my love,” He was serious, but his tone was laced with sadness and uncertainty. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, then slowly, he pulled away, his face still looking down. “You’ve mentioned many times liking my eyes, and the way I looked at you and… I’m not sure you will feel the same now.”

As he looked up, he slowly opened his eyes, revealing a bright fiery orb on the left and a ghost-like colored one on the right. He was unsure, his eyes were deeply looking into mine for any sort of sign that I was going to leave or hated it. Instead, I pressed a deep kiss on his lips and grinned, “Why would I not like it? A wise man once told me that scars were battle medals-“ He chuckled, interrupting me, “Do you realize you had told that to me, first? You had said it made us unique,” He smiled beautifully, his stress slowly leaving. My eyes widened; he had remembered that? If I said that, why can I not heed my own words when it regards my own scars? I thought briefly, but then looked back at Kyojuro bashfully, “I was not wrong, but the wise handsomeman I am talking about also said…” I trailed off, my hands cradling his face as I kissed his cheek, then his cheek bone, then his eye-lid, the Pillar chuckled timidly at that but let me do as I wished.

“…that scars were beautiful and mesmerizing, like the stars adorning the night sky. And just like the night sky, I wish to look at you until I see a glimpse of the sun rising, or perhaps until one of us falls asleep. I wish to bask in the serenity you bring and never let my gaze strand away from how beautiful you are,” because I love you, I held back from saying so, but it grazed the tip of my tongue. Our eyes never left one another’s, and even as I stopped talking, he did not speak. He looked at me in a mix of awe, adoration and perhaps a part of him still hesitated and needed to be convinced. I could feel my cheeks heating up from how intense his gaze was but loved every second of his attention. It pushed me to talk with more boldness.

Leaning over, my lips hovered over his, what am I doing? Where does all this confidence come from? Were some of the many questions crowding my mind; I was glad my hands were on his cheeks, it stopped them from shaking. The thoughts of uncertainty in my head were not mirrored by actions as I breathed against his lips, “If I remember correctly, that same man had written in his letters that he would like to worship me respectfully.” I held back a moment, brushing my nose against his before planting a delicate kiss on his lips. He tried to return it, but I pulled away quickly, chuckling, “I would love to do as I promised, and worship you instead,” My tone was so low, I was not sure he could hear me, but from how his body tensed I assumed he did.

I let my hands slide down to his shoulders, my eyes never leaving his in case he felt like he did not want to continue. Slowly, my hands slipped inside his kimono and on his bare shoulders before lazily pulling the sleeves down as my hands slithered down his arms. “My love, I cannot express how much I wish for your hands on my body right now,” He started and grabbed my hands delicately, bringing them to his lips before placing a kiss on it, “But I wish to know you are good too, and if you’d allow me, I would like to strip you of your beautiful kimono and kiss-“ I had darted my gaze back to his exposed skin when the word ‘strip’ left his mouth.

He stopped soon after and lifted my chin for me to look at him, “Are you still not hearing my words? Do you not understand that my adoration will not stop the more unique you get, my love?” I replied with a weak ‘I understand’ but he was not convinced at all, “Look at me,” he said sternly. I smiled when he said so, there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to look at him, but I still felt like the gash on my back was not the most beautiful. But then again, I was sure that with time I could get over it, and that his sweet words could help me get that confidence faster.

“I am looking,” I said in a low tone. Looking was a good word, but gawking would have been more adequate. The more I looked at him, the more I was getting used to that slight change on his face, and I was liking it more and more. I had not intended to make him feel self-conscious by ogling, but I felt like I had done just that when he smiled timidly, “You are indeed, and so am I,” He chuckled as he leaned in and captured my lips tenderly. I was grateful he did not break the kiss fast, instead he brought his hands to my jaw and tried to bring me closer to deepen the kiss. It felt so right and so good, I mirrored his hunger with a bit too much passion and made him fall backwards.

I apologized so fast it made Rengoku laugh loudly as he let his head hit the ground, “It’s alright, I love the enthusiasm,” His eyes traveled from my face down to my body, then to my hands that were gripping his shoulders tight, “I would suggest you kiss me again to help the pain away, I am sure it would help,” Looking down at him in surprise, I felt my cheeks heat up again, but leaned over with a stupid smile to then kiss his shoulder instead of him. “There?” I asked playfully. “Or there, perhaps?” I asked again, this time kissing the junction of his neck and shoulder. “My love, you are playing a dangerous game, I would like to kiss your pretty lips,” He said with a reddening face, his hands traveling to my waist where he held me.

I left a trail of kisses from the side of his throat to his jaw to finally kiss him passionately on the lips where he grinned into the kiss, returning it just as happily. “Can I suggest something? For the two of us to do?” He asked, his eyes burning into mine with intensity. My body temperature suddenly rose, I looked at him with flaming cheeks and looked at his still bare chest from when I had slid the kimono off him. “Yes, but I cannot promise I can stay silent-“ He covered my mouth quickly as he sat up, his face burning bright while an embarrassed smile painted his lips, “That’s not—I am so flattered, dear, I truly crave your touch, but what I had in mind was slightly different, if not very,” He chuckled timidly.

With eyes wide, I pried his hand away from my mouth and stood up, “That is embarrassing, do not think of me as wanton-“ Holding my sleeve as he stood up, Rengoku kissed me softly, “Then I will take the blame, I have no shame in saying I want you.” As if in a rush, he let go of me and stepped inside, his hand held out to me as he said, “Stay there, I have a great idea, bear with me my love, simply,” He moved his arm up and down, gesturing at my form, “Stay right there—no, actually, come sit on the futon, yes, yes the futon!”

He was suddenly hectic. A very different mood from seconds ago when I thought we were about to finally be together in more ways than one. I humored him and knelt on the futon, my hands on my knees as I looked at him, pink scars covering almost all his back. I resisted the urge to stand up and kiss all of them, as hard as it was. The lion-like man was careful when taking something from the cabinet, his sleeves hanging on each side of him for he still hadn’t dressed back. “As a child, when Senjuro would get hurt, I would have him draw the shape of his wound on paper, then draw around it, or with it, to make something fun. It would always make him smile,” Kyojuro told me, his eyes drifting to nostalgia as he did so. I wanted to know more about his brother, and his family in general, but I hardly believe now was the time to ask more about it. He had something in mind, and I was curious to know what it was.

“If you are not convinced you are gorgeous, even with scars, then let’s make it a real work of art!” His words were accompanied by his placing of a painting palette on the ground. A glass filled with dirty water and a few brushes were put on the ground too with just as much care. He then looked at me determined, but his gaze was searching mine for any sort of unease, just like before when he had revealed his eye. This time, I was hesitant, “You are suggesting I paint my-“ “I am suggesting to paint your back, your scar, with something so beautiful you will see it the way I do! And if you would like it, you can do mine too,”

Looking at him for a moment, I considered. My eyes trailed to the paint, then the tools around it to finally look back at Rengoku. He was already tying his hair back to get it out of the way. Seeing how thrilled he seemed by the idea, I thought it would not hurt to try; it was also an excuse to have his hands on my body, which rendered the idea even more appealing. Those weeks apart had made me crave his touch so much I was desperate for it.

“I will do yours first, if you do not mind. It will give me time to get used to the idea,” I smiled while mentioning him to turn around. A broad smile displayed itself on his face when his cheeks flushed pink, “Thank you for indulging me, let me-“ leaning over, he held my face between his hands gently and kissed me tenderly once again. The love dripping from his action made my heart beat faster, I kissed him with the same fervor, perhaps too much as my tongue tried to pry open his mouth. He pulled back laughing shyly; his thumb brushed over my lips while his expression was one that confused me. He seemed very concerned and happy at the same time. He was even about to say something but held back. Seconds after, he said, “I missed you so dearly, please, don’t be scarce with your touch.”

A breathless laugh escaped my lips while I nodded, “The thought never crossed my mind, now turn around,” I chuckled. Rengoku seemed insistent on looking at me and resisted when I placed my hands on his shoulders to turn him around. I laughed at that, for I struggled greatly seeing how unmoving he was. “Kyo, can you please turn around,” “Then I can’t see you!” He complained playfully. Pointing at the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, the one that was turned to face the wall, I said, “Then we move there, would that be better?”

After his approval, we moved to the front of the mirror after turning it around to face us. The man sat with his back straight, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at me thanks to the mirror. I had not realized he was doing so until I was done with mixing some paints to have some dark brown and had brought the paintbrush to his back. When I did, I looked over his shoulder and could see him smiling broadly, to which I said, “Is there something on your mind?”

“The same thing has been on my mind for the past four weeks and I am more than glad that my thoughts have manifested themselves today,” He winked flirtatiously. Feeling my cheeks flush, I told him to lean a bit forward all while pushing his head gently. He rested his elbows on the ground, his chin in his hands. Before starting the painting, I could not stop myself from kissing his shoulders. It earned me a giggle and a soft-spoken “Don’t be shy, your lips are welcome all over my body,” I followed his words and peppered kisses all over his scarred back, making sure to kiss each individual one. When I was done, I could see his face had reddened greatly and he was still looking at me in the mirror, his eyes glimmering with joy.

When I brushed the first stroke of paint on his back, he tensed suddenly but not without making a high-pitch sound of surprise. “I am sorry, is it cold?” I asked worriedly, pausing with my free hand on his shoulder. Turning his head slightly, he pressed a kiss on my fingers and shook his head, “I am a bit ticklish; those brushes feel like feathers on the skin, I was caught off guard,” He explained before positioning himself like he was before. Humming, I resumed my painting. From the beautiful pattern on his back, I could see a big tree that started more on the left of his back before growing up to his shoulders, the branches reaching across his shoulder blades and one over his left shoulder.

A few minutes passed; I was focused on the art that was happening in front of me. It was also irritating me faintly that I could not touch him properly, I wanted to hug him and fall asleep in his arms and as enjoyable and intimate this was, I wanted more. I needed to think of something, that’s why I asked out loud, surprisingly at the same time as the Pillar, “Should we start thinking of a name for our four-legged friend?” was what I said, Rengoku however was on a different note, “I am sorry for not talking, you are just so beautiful-“ He apologized for speaking at the same time as I did, so did I. Both of us laughed nervously. With a short gesture, he told me to go on, but I had heard his words, so I teased.

“Uzui told me my letters lifted your spirits,” I started, his face flashing in surprise then embarrassment, “Tell me, which part made you the gladdest?” Don’t start, I told myself. You cannot be this touch-starved to start something in the midst of an innocent painting, I scolded myself internally. I had finished the trunk of the tree, and was now mixing the colours to create a pink shade. Was I confident in my cherry tree leaves making? Not entirely. But I was going to give it my all. “Thinking of retiring with you!” He said a bit louder than he had spoken the entire time we were together. A disappointed “Oh,” escaped my lips without even going through the thinking phase. I quickly looked up to tell him it was nice, to add I was not disappointed, but when I saw his look in the mirror it had darkened. It was not as joyful as usual.

It was not sad either, but the smirk on his lips definitely helped me gauge the emotion portrayed on his face. “My love, are you disappointed?” His hand slowly reached behind to touch my knee. His fingers deftly helped the hem of my kimono out of the way to finally touch my bare skin. I had since stopped painting and was now staring right at him in the mirror. A huge innocent grin made its way to Kyojuro’s lips, “Would you rather I had said the idea of feeling your body against mine once again was what fueled me to get up, in more than one way, in the morning?” The brush was thrown on the wooden plank where the paint was as I leaned my head over his shoulder and slithered my arm to the opposite shoulder to cover his mouth.

I rested my chin against his collarbone and breathed out nervously, I felt him smile behind my hand. “Why are you being naughty now of all times?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Prying my hand from his mouth, the beautiful man pressed a kiss in the palm of my hand, “Because you have started it, I am only now joining in on the fun,” He then gave me an innocent look, the one he would usually have, as if he was not trying to rile me up, “I will stop if you ask me,” “I am not—I have not said that.” With the tip of his index and thumb, Rengoku lifted my chin and kissed me softly. The angle was not the best for such actions, but I melted into it without hesitation. “Very well, I am glad to hear it. Do not stop painting my love, I am impatient to see the final product!” He grinned enthusiastically.

Getting myself together, I leaned back and realized I had paint over some parts of my Kimono, “I dirtied my kimono because of that, I will blame it on you,” I said playfully, earning myself a loud laugh from the Fire Pillar as he added, in that same tone, one that is almost carefree, “Do not worry, we will dirty it even more,” He threw me a soft smile mixed with something I rarely saw on his face, arrogance? Pride? He added, “That is… if you’ll allow me, of course,” Bringing the back of my hand to my forehead, while still holding the brush between my fingers, I wiped the non-existent sweat, then resumed painting.

“My dear, if you keep that up, you might regret it,” I trailed off, my eyes staring right at his for a mere instant before focusing on his back once again. The pink was beautiful adorning the top half of his skin, up to his shoulders and even a bit on his bicep. I thought to myself it did not look as bad as it could have looked, after all I had no experience in skin-painting, nor painting at all. I was no artist, only a fighter. Broadening his smile, he moved his elbow to rest it on his knee. He was still sitting tailor-style which made him look so good when he rested his cheek on his knuckles. The teasing expression adorning his features drew me in, even more after he spoke, “Regret? You are more than welcome to use me, if that is what you so desire. Your gaze has been more open than your words, for the former has the honesty the latter lacks,” I was about to tell him off when he said, “My apology, I meant that I can read the lust in your eyes, even if your words are reprimanding me for being… wanton, as you would describe it,”

While I smiled to myself upon hearing his words, I could still feel the warmth in my cheeks. The embarrassment was strong, but I still teased back, “You are the first thought in my cloudy mind when I wake up,” I quoted his words from the letters as I put the paintbrush in the water, the look on his face was such a sight I could not help but lean over his shoulder and kiss his jaw. “My heart and body long for you and your…” Looking at him in the reflection, I delicately let my hand wander down his stomach. My heart was speeding up and I could see his eyes looking down at my hands, curious, wondering if I would dare do it. “...Touch” I then undid the knot of his kimono to feel him more, to have one of us act the words shared through those letters when his hand stopped me at such a speed I gasped silently.

A tight smile was on his lips. I loved seeing him like that, not fully out of control but trying hard to resist the inevitable; to resist the pull that was happening between us. Our long separation had only strengthened that need for intimacy, that need to be close, skin against skin, legs intertwined, breath mixing, and warmth shared under the blanket. “I have yet to paint your beautiful body, my love, will you be good and behave until I am done?” He asked with such a sultry look I was tempted to tell him there was no need to paint me, but he wanted to do it. So, I smiled stupidly, “You say behave as if I was a wild animal,” I chuckled, gesturing for him to turn around to look at the final product. He slowly did, while I focused my gaze on the reflection behind him.

He did not even glance at his back, instead he leaned over and kissed my neck softly while whispering, “Your wild, adventurous hands that needed to be caught to be stopped from going on a rampage, tell me otherwise,” I leaned my head the opposite side of his head to give him better access before even assimilating his words. His hair was tickling my throat as he trailed kisses higher on my skin, I gasped a laugh when his lips brushed over my ear then breathed, “Can you blame me? You have an addictive personality, and an even more addictive touch.” His chuckle was right next to my ear, I wanted to hear more of him. With his breath in addition, I felt a shiver run down my spine and looked at the door in case someone came in.

“And I am obsessed with your voice, but I have not made you moan yet, have I?” He huffed another laugh before kissing my cheek and leaning back. I was aware my gaze was flicking between his gorgeous eyes then his hands, many times. Before looking over his shoulder and into the mirror, Kyojuro looked me up and down, a proud smile on his beautiful lips, “Flustered, gaze askance and scared of being caught… Exactly how I had imagined it.” This effectively brought my eyes back to his in the mirror, this time with a pleasantly surprised smile, “Those letters of yours, they made me realize you had a way with words,” I started. He smiled, his beautiful eyes not leaving mine yet, “It made me wonder two things.”

Humming, he told me to go on all while gesturing for me to sit in front of him to start painting. My cheeks warmed up again at the thought of undressing in front of him. My fingers danced on the knot around my stomach while I spoke, “The first one being, if you have such a way with words, how come I have never received a poem?” I said playfully. It made Rengoku panic, his paintbrush falling from his hands as he looked at me with wide eyes. I quickly spoke before he could, “I am teasing. I was only wondering one thing, I would never be entitled enough to ask for a poem,” I said off-handedly.

This made his face burn bright red as he looked at me intently, “I have written many poems!” He said loudly, smiling. That smile turned more timid when he said, “About the one that is always on my mind, the one that makes my heart sing louder than cicadas in the summer. The one that keeps surprising me, no matter the amount of time spent together; I keep getting caught off guard by the words escaping from that someone’s mouth…” He said gently, his tone slowly turning deeper, more sultry. I felt like a comedian on stage, everything was pointing at me, I had all his attention, and I could not run. When he uttered the last word, his face was over my shoulder and he was smiling genuinely at me, “That someone is you, if you had not understood.”

“I had, I… am flattered. Maybe I will write you a song-“ Feeling like a great idea had struck me, I turned to look at him quickly, bumping our noses together. Both of us laughed as he put a bit of distance between us, “I could put a tune to your words, I could sing them—perhaps write words of my own to have you properly flattered,” I chuckled. A sound of surprise caught in my throat when Rengoku kissed me passionately, stopping my sudden rant and calming my burst of enthusiasm. When our lips parted, he stared at me lovingly, “I love this idea, I love it very much.” I giggled nervously, feeling stupid for doing so but did not add anything else. After a moment passed, he turned my head towards the mirror and gestured at my kimono as he said, “Now, what were you wondering upon reading my letters?”

I scoffed, my fingers dancing on the knot of my kimono, “I would hate to ruin the sweet mood that has been set, maybe I shouldn’t-“ Kyojuro wrapped his arms around my waist and pried my hands away from the knot I was not undoing to do so himself, all while talking and looking at me in the mirror, “Do not play a prude when your hand was between my legs minutes ago, my love,” He said softly. The tone was not depicting the actual insinuation of his words, which made it even more attractive that it was just from being spoken by him. He kissed my cheek again, pulling the knot away from my form, “Go tell me, share your obscene thoughts with me! Who knows, I might just share them,” He winked.

I tensed when I felt his nails scratch the back of my neck slightly as he held the collar of my attire. He paused, hesitant but not talking yet. I gently pushed his hands away and took a deep breath; as I let it out, I dropped my kimono off my form and said, with a fleeting gaze, “I wondered if that well-spoken man would keep his manners in bed, if your way with words would remain if you felt good.” I kept my back straight, hoping that if I did so, I wouldn’t shy away from his gaze. My confidence was a lie; even if I kept my head high and I had changed the topic, I knew full well that a seed of insecurity was germinating in the corner of my mind.

My whole body stiffened when I felt the warmth of skin on my scar. I did not pull away, but even if I tried, hands were holding my waist. It made my escape impossible. “Did you know that not one tiger has the same stripes as the other? It is a way to identify them, but also shows how unique they are.” It was slightly helpful and funny, I did not move and listened to him as he traced his finger over the length of my scar, from the side of my hip to the middle of my back. Mumbling to himself, he said he would try again, and try he did. “Perfection is like beauty, everyone has their own criteria they wish to meet, for themselves or for others,” This time I could feel the brush on my skin and shivered, my hair rising on my arms and neck.

“Now, you cannot force anyone to meet the criteria you like or wish for, that would be hard, yes,” He paused, dipping the brush again, his eyes focused on my back, “What you can do, is look at yourself, and see what makes you unique, what defines you, what are your more prominent traits—you make all of those yours, you embrace the traits you like and work on those you don’t,” His gaze met mine in the reflection, with a sweet smile he kissed the back of my head and added, “And what you have to do, is trust your body, love your body, it has gotten you through so much that it deserves all the love and worth in the world. Give your beautiful self worth.” I could hear him smile, his face was behind mine as he leaned over my back to paint details.

“Because knowing you are worth it, you will understand that you are your own perfect, and that perfection is a state of mind.” There was a long pause as I took in his words, while I still felt exposed being uncovered on my top half; while it was something I had never done around him, I still felt comfortable. At least more comfortable than before. A question set on the tip of my tongue; I was hesitant to ask it. “I am sorry if I stepped over some boundaries, we can go back to your question-“ “Do you like it?” His eyes widened. He paused his strokes and looked over my shoulder, confusion adorning his oh so beautiful face. “The topic of before-“ “The scar, do you like it? I will not see it much; I can ignore it, but…” I trailed off, not knowing what I wanted to say more.

Suddenly, kisses were planted on my back, all over it, first on the side of my scar, then on my shoulder blades, to finally reach the top of my shoulders, “I absolutely do! What could be more attractive than knowing how strong you are? And willed, determined! You are so beautiful-“ He looked up, a big smile on his face. I had to hold back a laugh when I saw the green paint on his lips. He had kissed paint that had not dried yet but did not seem to care one bit. “You are my perfect,” He said softly, wiping the paint from his lips with a cute smile.

My throat tightened; emotions were getting the best of me at his kind words. Laughing nervously, I looked down and wrapped my kimono back around me loosely. A gentle tug on my hand made me look over my shoulder then fully turn to face Kyojuro. His face was hesitant at first, but he beamed at me then reached for both of my hands instead, his thumbs brushing over the back of them, “I am going to be selfish—will you bear with me?” Knots tied in my chest, it felt heavy suddenly, but I nodded, my joyous attitude dropping from his words. “I know we do not know the outcome of this final fight; I know that. I am an optimist, I believe in all of us, but anything can happen—that’s why, that’s why I-“ He took a deep breath, bringing my hands to his forehead as he sniffled. His voice cracked as he expressed himself; it broke my heart. Was he going to put an end to this dream-like partnership?

I never let go of his hands, instead I tightened them around his. There was nothing else I could do until he was done laying his heart bare. I was fighting hard the tears that were threatening to fall. What about our future plans? What about retiring? What about our dog? Was this all play pretend? Was I hopeful for nothing?

He brought my hands back to his lips and kissed the tip of my fingers,

“I know it’s selfish to lay it out like that, I know… But I love you, I love you so much. I want you to know it, and that is what is selfish about me. You told me once that I could be selfish, that selfishness was good sometimes,” He brought each of my hand on each of his cheeks, placing his on top to press them closer, “I need you by my side forever, I wish to hold you every night, to hear your voice when I wake up and when I go to sleep,” a kiss was placed on my palms, he then let go of my hands but I kept them there, holding him closer.

He leaned in, eyes teary with a stupid smile on his handsome face, “… to see you trip on the tatami, to have your hands in my hair and to eat the best food with you,” I laughed through my silent tears, a smile matching his adorning my lips, “To love you is all I want,” He whispered before kissing me tenderly. The stress I had put on myself thinking he was going to leave me left through laughs in the kiss, our teeth clashing from time to time but happily so as I pushed him back on his futon. “I love you too, you are my perfect, my safe haven, my home,” I punctuated everything by a kiss on his lips, his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me close.

“I will not let you go, no matter what happens next,” To emphasize my words, I wrapped my arms around his neck, it made him laugh as he rolled us around so that we were both on our side on the ground, looking at one another, “Neither will I, I will find you no matter what,” he pressed a soft kiss on my forehead, then stared at me lovingly.

I could feel my eyelids drooping, I was exhausted from today and crying did not help, “Kyo… I truly love you… But I also think you have put paint all over your futon,” I mumbled tiredly. He chuckled with the same tiredness and brought me closer to his chest, humming, “That is too bad, I am not moving,”

“Is it a problem for our future selves?” I asked playfully.

“Absolutely, it’s their mess, after all,” He mumbled, his lips against my hair.

With my final functional thought, I asked, “If you heard my words about selfishness… Would it mean you were not asleep?” I remembered mentioning it when brushing his hair and even though saying so was out of place, relief flooded over me when I had seen he had fallen asleep. If he had heard me, it meant he had not actually been sleeping.

“I don’t regret faking it, I was able to feel your sweet kiss, a shame I couldn’t return it,” He said tiredly, his words mumbled and inarticulate. It was enough for me to understand and lean in to press a lazy kiss on his lips, “It is never too late,” a breathless laugh escaped his lips as he returned it slowly, sleepily.

We then slowly fell asleep to one another’s reassuring heartbeats, basking in the serenity of today and not thinking of any tomorrows.

[Part 8]

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