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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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farmhandler · 5 years ago

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My Everything

Rated: T

Pairing: Shifty/Richie from “Rockababy”

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Shifty wants to know why Richie likes taking photos of him so much, and he gets his answer--and much more.

A/N: So this comic by the amazing human being @c2ndy2c1d is just really special. And then I wrote a fic because somebody had to, so please read the comic!! I was so charmed by all the characters, and I cannot resist this kind of nerd/jock/coolkid dynamic so here we are. I got permission to write this, so I hope I don’t butcher their characterizations! I tried to keep my interpretations as true to the comic as I could. Enjoy <3

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“How long do I gotta sit like this?”

“Just a minute!” Richie says. It’s the same thing he said ten minutes ago, and then five minutes before that. He adjusts his camera lens and then poses again, taking another several photos for god knows what reason. “Just don’t move. I need to get the right shot…”

Shifty doesn’t move as promised, but his tail gives the table beside him a solid thwap to show Richie just how thin his patience is starting to run.

“Why do you want these photos anyway? You’ve taken like—thousands already, I swear.”

“This is the first time I’ve gotten photos with your tail entirely intact.” He snaps another photo. Shifty lets out an explosive sigh and turns his head to give his neck a break. He’s lying on his stomach, ass up in the air, posed to give Richie ‘every valuable angle’ to get all the photos he needs for his research.

Research, research. It’s always about that damn research of his. He’s always makin’ Shifty turn this way and that, exposing every part of himself to Richie’s camera. Shifty can feel his face starting to turn pink, and without a doubt he knows the rest of his skin is sure to follow soon. It’s easier when he’s a human and there’s only so many places that can turn colors.

“I was hoping I could find a remedy to make your tail grow back faster,” Richie says forlornly, lowering his camera. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“Hey, you’re doing great,” Shifty says. He sits up, ignoring the look on Richie’s face and lifts one leg to his chest to give his arm something to lean on. “You helped make that medicine that took my pain away. That was pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees reluctantly, staring down at his camera as if a medical marvel isn’t comparable to fixing Shifty’s tail—which was gonna grow back anyway. “But I wanted to figure this one out. I was so close…”

Shifty shrugs. “You’ve got time. Why worry about one little thing?”

“It’s not little,” Richie says, looking up at him. Even through his huge, nerdy glasses, his eyes burn with a passion that always leaves Shifty feeling strangely breathless. “I want to help you, any way I can.”

“So you’ve said,” Shifty says, off-hand, like his body isn’t changing colors. Richie’s gaze doesn’t shift, and Shifty keeps his eyes down at his feet, ‘cause otherwise he’ll never get the color to go away. “Why do you care so much about taking photos of me anyway? I mean—” While Richie stares at him, Shifty wrestles with his words, suddenly finding it hard to articulate something that’s been running through his mind since this whole thing with Richie started.

“What is it?”

“You’re always taking all these pictures because you think the way I look is—”

“—fascinating,” Richie finishes for him.

“Uh huh. Right, fascinating.” Shifty looks around for the pack of smokes Richie keeps for him and finds it on the shelf behind him. He lights it, once again ignoring Richie’s sharp look. No smoking inside, he’s always saying, but Shifty’s been dying for one for hours, and the rooms got great ventilation. “But let’s be real for a minute—don’t you prefer it when I look human?”

It’s not insecurity that makes Shifty ask the question. Well, not completely. Sure, he sometimes feels insecure about being so different from everyone, but he doesn’t wish he was a human. Hell no—they’re fragile as hell.

Richie blinks at him. “Why would I want that?”

“Well—” Shifty pauses; stares down at his hand and starts the shift, lifting human fingers for Richie to see. “I don’t know, don’t you like it more? I look like you.”

“But you’re not like me,” Richie points out. Shifty shifts uncomfortably, weighing Richie’s words. The way he says it—it shouldn’t hurt, but it unexpectedly does.

Something in Shifty’s face must give him away, because in the next moment, Richie steps forward, his eyes wide. “And that’s a good thing! You’re not like me, you’re like you. And sure, the Shifty I knew at school and around town is a handsome guy, but I also really like the real you.” At Shifty’s continued silence, he continues. “Would you prefer it if I looked like you?”

“Well, no,” Shifty admits. “You’re a human.”

“Exactly. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Richie walks up to him, even closer now, those damn chocolate brown eyes boring into Shifty and makin’ him turn fucking pink. He can feel it happening because it always does around this guy; he’s the only one that can do this to him as often as he does, and the nerd has the gall to act like he has no idea what he’s doing.

He lifts his hands and cups the sides of Shifty’s face, the warmth of his hands seeping into his skin. The way Richie is looking at him—it’s more observational. Maybe he’d even describe it as clinical. Almost like business as usual, with Richie ignoring his personal space and putting his warm hands all over Shifty, only this time, with the topic of their conversation at hand, Shifty can’t take another second of this one-sided embarrassment.

He shifts, his body morphing and skin swirling until he’s almost entirely human. By the time he’s got his human face on, Richie has realized exactly what kind of position they’re really in. With his eyes still stuck on his, Shifty feels a vicious sense of satisfaction when Richie’s cheeks start to color.

“I—you—”

Shifty lifts his hand up over the back of Richie’s hand—the one that’s still hovering by his face uncertainly. “What was that you were saying about me being handsome?”

Richie’s glasses slip down his nose. He flicks his eyes down, and then the color in his cheeks darkens.

Do I have something on my face? Shifty wonders.

“You’re naked,” Richie squeaks. His hands snap to his face so fast that he basically slaps himself and ends up stumbling back, still trying to cover his eyes from Shifty’s naked form.

Huh, he thinks, looking down at himself. Forgot I was wearing real clothes before.

“Come on, sci-fi, it’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before. I’m naked all the time, in a way.”

“Yeah, but—” Richie turns and peeks out from between his fingers, then whips around again. “That’s different! You’re usually wearing clothes why aren’t you wearing clothes now.”

“They’re usually such a pain that I always morph ‘em, but today I decided, why not try wearing some?” He scratches his chin. “Then I forgot about ‘em.”

Seeing Richie so flustered by his human self when he doesn’t seem to give a damn about a naked alien makes him feel…annoyed isn’t the right world.

“Hey,” Shifty says, stalking up to Richie with his cigarette still in hand. He takes a drag and slides up behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist. Richie jolts with a gasp; Shifty does what he does best and shifts, letting Richie feel the way his body changes, morphing back into his alien self. “You don’t think this part of me is handsome?”

“I’m not answering that question,” Richie says. His ears are red. Shifty feels the oddest urge to bite them.

“Oh, so human me is hot, but not real me.”

“I’m not—you’re not—that’s not what I’m saying!” Richie turns around, fixes his warm eyes on Shifty, and points an accusatory finger at him. “I have to remain impartial. It’s bad enough that you’re all around me at home, being…the way you are—”

Shifty takes a drag. “The way I am?”

“Like that! Just like that. Handsome, cool, mysterious,” Richie starts ticking things off his fingers, to Shifty’s disbelief. “I mean, does smoking even do anything to you? What do your lungs look like?”

“I thought you hated all that stuff?” Shifty asks, ignoring the question.

“Well—” Richie’s flush still hasn’t dissipated. He takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them. “Even I can acknowledge that from an objective standpoint, you’re attractive.”

“You think I’m hot?” Shifty says, meaning it as a tease, but it comes out like a genuine question. Richie looks up at him, all intense as usual, and something in his face shifts.

“Yes,” he admits, face flushed and looking a little shaky on his feet. But his eyes—there’s that glitter; the glamor of intrigue that he always directs at Shifty and anything worth a dime in his mind. “I do.”

Shifty goes to take another drag of his cigarette—he isn’t sure what to say—but his damn hand is shaking and he’s reached the butt end, so he lets his hand fall and stares up at the ceiling instead. “Huh,” he says. “Well, uhm, thanks.”

Richie doesn’t reply; instead, he walks up to Shifty and takes the cigarette butt from his hand and tosses it in the nearby trashcan. He has to reach over to di it, and their fingers brush; it feels electric. Shifty inhales, his heart pounding, and chances a look at Richie.

He’s now staring at him with such an intense look that Shifty wants to laugh. But man—those eyes. Shifty would never say it out loud, but he loves the color of Richie’s eyes. He likes the way he looks at him when he’s taking photos, or when he’s sleepy, or when he’s found something new and exciting to fixate on.

Richie’s hand slides over his. He leans forward, and Shifty leans back on instinct, bracing himself against the desk behind him. He’s so close that Shifty can practically smell the aftershave he uses, even though he’s barely grown a single hair on his chin—

“Richard, dinner’s almost ready!” Richard’s mom calls from the landing leading to Richie’s mini laboratory set up in their basement, cutting straight through the tension and demolishing it.

They separate lightning fast. Shifty morphs into a human (with clothes) on instinct, and Richie’s looking down at the table, his face red.

“Richie? Carrot?” She’ll cycle through all the petnames she can think of if he doesn’t answer soon. “You down there?”

“I’m here!” Richie calls. He glances at Shifty, face full of an unnamed emotion. “I’ll be up soon!”

Once her footsteps fade, he sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. Without his glasses on his face, and with his hair slicked back— Shifty wishes he had something to put in his mouth, keep him from saying something he might regret.

“We had better get up there,” he says lamely, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Before the food gets cold.”

“Yeah, we should…do that.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, both of them lost in their own thoughts, reluctant to leave this space. Richie’s mom never comes down there, so it’s practically theirs: the two of them. Shifty is still thinking about Richie’s hand on top of his. Humans run so hot, and Richie’s like a furnace running in the high heat of summer.

Goddamn it, he thinks, grinding his teeth. He feels unexpectedly angry, for reasons he can’t explain.

He turns and starts walking towards the stairs, and that’s when he feels Richie take hold of his arm.

“Wait!” Richie cries, stopping him short. “Shifty, wait.”

“What is it, Richie?” he says, without turning. “I’ve got my eyes on your mom’s monthly meatloaf—”

Before he has a chance to say more, Richie grabs him by the labels and yanks him forward, straight onto his mouth. It’s not graceful by any means—Richie’s glasses nearly poke Shifty in the eye, and the angle’s all wrong, but it’s good. Hell, better than good, it’s great.

It’s chase, with no tongue, but Richie pulls away to adjust the angle and nearly trips backwards over his own damn feet, so Shifty ends up being the one to wrap his arms around Richie’s waist and pull him in for another kiss. And another. And then maybe a few more after that, until Richie has his face in his hands again and—god, his mouth is so soft, and his hands are so warm. Shifty could just melt in him. He’s just glad he’s not shifted, ‘cause otherwise he’d be pink up to his eyeballs. Plus, it’s easier to kiss Richie like this.

The series of kisses lasts probably only a minute or so, but it feels like forever. And when they pull away, hell, Shifty’s really glad he’s not shifted, because the look Richie is directing at him could make fireworks light up.

“That was one helluva kiss, Richie,” Shifty manages.

“Your skin,” Richie replies, brushing his thumb across Shifty’s cheek. For a second he’s worried he’s shifted back, or worse—this form now comes in the same shade of pink, too, but when he looks down at himself he can see that speckles of his scales have crept into his skin. They’re probably on his face, just under his eyes.

“Guess I just lost a bit of control for a sec,” Shifty admits, rubbing the back of his neck. Richie’s eyes widen, the look on his face is the same look he gets when he’s filing away important information for later. “Jesus, Richie, not that I’m complaining, but…what was that for?”

“I wanted…well I—I wanted to do that. Kiss you, I mean, even though I’ve never done it before, so it was probably bad—”

Shifty opens his mouth to interrupt and say that it wasn’t, but Richie continues quickly, the flush on his face down to his neck now. Maybe humans can turn completely pink when pressed.

“But I also wanted to say that I’m sorry. Shifty, if I’ve ever made you feel like you’re just a specimen or—or a lab experiment, then that’s not right. You’re more than that.” He takes Shifty’s hand and squeezes, eyes locked on his. “You’re a kind and intelligent and amazing friend, and you’re so beautiful. No matter what form you take.”

Shifty ducks his head. Praise isn’t really his thing; he doesn’t like being the center of that kind of attention, but on the other hand (and literally, he’s holding his hand), Richie has become an important part of his life he’d rather not do without. He likes having him around, even if it’s for his ‘research’.

“Hell,” he says, not sure what else to say. Richie gives Shifty’s hand another squeeze, and the place where they’re touching tingles. Shifty’s heart is still beating fast, and the words he’s been thinking about just slip out of his mouth. “You saying you wanna go steady, or what?”

It’s almost phrased like a joke, and for a minute Shifty wants to take it back, because how is that anyway to ask somebody out? There’s no way Richie would take that and go with it, but when he looks at his face, Richie’s mouth opens, and then his eyes light up.

“Are you seriously asking me?” he asks, and adds hastily after a long pause, “because the answer would be yes. I would. Very much so. If, um, kissing you wasn’t obvious enough.”

“I’m seriously askin’,” Shifty says, then realizes that while Richie gave him a nice little speech, he hasn’t really returned the favor. “You’re a nerd, Richie. There’s no gettin’ around that.”

“Hey—”

“But,” Shifty continues, raising a hand. “That’s how I like you. You’re wicked smart, and you get me, maybe more than anybody else around here. You’re one of my best friends, aside from Buttons, and when you’re in your element you’re pretty damn cool.”

A smile slowly splits across Richie’s face, until he’s grinning from ear to hear. That hand that’s still holding onto Shifty’s tugs him forward. For a second Shifty thinks he might try to kiss him again, but maybe he used up all his confidence when he did it the first time, because all he does is hold his hand and smile.

Fuck. Shifty clears his throat. “So we gonna eat, or stand here all night?” Not that he would mind.

“Oh! Yeah, my mom’s probably waiting for us. Come on.” Richie pulls him towards the stairs and Shifty goes without protest. They’re still holding hands, and when they reach the ground floor it isn’t until Richie’s mom finds them that he finally let’s go.

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for ages. What were you two doing down there?” She takes in their appearance and the flushed look on Richie’s face. “Carrot, your face is so red. Are you feeling all right?”

Despite the completely innocuous question, Richie’s face makes a complicated expression and he flounders for a response. “Ah— we— I mean I— "

“Science,” Shifty answers smoothly, flinging his arm around Richie’s shoulders. “You know how it is.”

Richie’s mom looks at them, her eyes flicking between the two, and then she claps her hands together. “Oh, don’t I ever! Well, enough science for the night. Let’s eat!”

“Very smooth,” Shifty says to Richie after she’s gone ahead. Richie frowns at him.

“You’re one to talk.” He raises an eyebrow. “’Science?’”

Shifty shrugs. Richie’s frown softens into a soft smile, and before he can metaphorically attack Shifty with his warm eyes, he steals a kiss from Richie’s half-open mouth, grinning when he sputters at him indignantly.

“Come on, sci-fi, meatloaf’s waiting,” he says, letting his hand linger at his lower back, just a while longer.

#is there a tag yet #rockababy #rockababy comic #read this comic or else #c2ndy2c1d #shifty #richie #a classic dynamic #3k #my fic #what do i know about science? well ill have you know NOTHIN #and it shows #i know it's a crime that buttons isn't in this but with another person my dialogue gets out of HAND guys we don't have TIME for that #couldn't think of a title either!! titles are hard #the summary is kind of a lie im sorry if u thought it would be spicy

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ppersonna · 5 years ago

Text

organic - ksj | thirteen

a social media au

↳ summary- You agree to do your childhood best friend, Namjoon, a favor by working as his boss’s gardener. However, Namjoon fails to tell you just how much of a rich ass Kim Seokjin really is. You hate him, and he hates you, so why does it bother you when his ex makes her way back into his life?

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ warnings- 😬 smut, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, teasing, bratty!yn, brat-tamer!jin, unprotected sex (dont be dumb), aftercare (ig), lmaoooooo here we mf GO.

↳ a/n- omgomgomgogmogmogmogmomgomgogmg. thats all i gotta say yall. also, so sorry but the tags are currently being VERY BAD and i am sorry if they didnt work.

taglist-

@rjsmochii @broke-bts-stan @kookiesjoonies @sistaflubs @sombreboy @brilliantlybasicb @sugarly-laysa @absoluteyoongit @chimoona @ladyartemesia @lemonjoonah @jinsearth @tiddieshakeshownu @hannahdinse8 @imluckybitches @55west81st @xoxrinaxox @remplazable-yellowpink @lustingstae @lidda @amoreguk @deadleaves278 @devotedlywriting @koostime @fangurl-ontgeside @hauntedlilies @gukniverse @simplymemyself @alyboo-jpeg @themyscirarey @taetaewonderland @jinhitwhore @softychimseok @amberaesthetics @lovesjenmoong @bangtansbun @garii71 @sweetnspicy93

The house was empty. Too empty.

The normally chaotic space of the living room, where all the roommates and friends usually joined was silent.

You walked around aimlessly, still confused by Jin’s texts, and hoped to find someone to distract you, keep you from going into the bedroom Jin most certainly occupied.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around the man. In one minute, you’d be daydreaming about his lips and the way he felt pressed up against you. The next, you’d be contemplating methods of murder and if you could bury his body next to the freshly planted rose bushes in the back courtyard.

A sigh escaped you. No one was home. You were stuck with Jin.

You grumbled under your breath as you made your way down the lush hallway. Some friends. Didn’t even invite you out. Left you here with the extremely handsome, tempting, annoying asshole.

The door opened before you even reached your hand out to grab the handle. Jin appeared with a sleazy smile.

“Little vixen,” he said, grabbing your wrist.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

It was almost starting to get annoying.

Jin motioned to the bed. Pretty, pink lingerie lay on the luxe fabric, arranged delicately yet with full intent displayed.

“I can’t wait to see you in it,” Jin spoke. He moved closer. So close it made your throat swell up. His hands ran up and down your arm. “I knew you’d give in.”

His words snapped you out of any sensuality you felt at his embrace. Your hands pushed at the expanse of his chest.

“I didn’t fucking do this!” You snapped. “Why the fuck would I want you?”

“You think I don’t notice the way you slide in bed towards me until you’re practically humping me?”

Jin’s smirk was reaching levels you’d never seen before. He was pleased with himself, with this situation. You were sure if you glanced down his body you’d see proof of his arousal. But you couldn’t. You’d lose all ability to talk, to fight.

“Okay, I was cold! That’s the only reason!”

Jin tsk’ed and shook his head.

“Darling, it’s okay. You’re meant to be my wife, you should know how your husband performs in bed. It’s natural to be curious.”

Your hands balled into fists.

“I’m… not curious.”

He quirked his head and smiled. “No? Not even a little?”

Jin stepped towards you again, this time slower and with heat.

“Not curious how deep I can get inside you, how wet you can be for me?”

You would be lying if you said your body didn’t react, didn’t heat under his intense gaze.

“Clearly, someone set this up,” you whispered, trying to navigate the conversation away from the topic of your wet pussy.

“Did they now?” Jin asked as he played with a piece of your hair. “You sure it wasn’t all a ruse to get the worldwide handsome in bed with you?”

“You’re so arrogant,” you snapped. “You think every woman is falling on their face to fuck you.” Your words were sharp but lacked any of the heat behind it.

Jin chuckled. “That’s because they generally are.”

His fingers trailed down your face, your neck. His eyes were fixated at your collar bones, magnetized to the juncture of your throat and shoulder.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Say someone set this all up, say I believe you… you still aren’t putting up much of a fight.”

Damn.

Jin had you there.

He continued before you could speak. “It’s almost like you’ve been wanting to find out more ever since I kissed you.”

Your eyes closed in reply. The kiss. The god forsaken kiss.

“You played me.”

Jin sighed and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, eyes now level with yours.

“It’s okay to be curious. About me. About us. I think about it too.” He admitted.

It piqued your interest and made you swallow hard.

“I think about what it would be like to have your fiery little body underneath me. Trying to be big and bad and headstrong while you’re getting stuffed full of my cock.”

You couldn’t help the soft whine that left your lips, and you kicked yourself for allowing Jin to see your moment of weakness.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asked as he moved you towards the bed. His eyes burned into yours and it felt like all the air in the room left, leaving you suffocating.

“You want me to take control, to tame the little brat inside you. I can do that, baby. All you have to do is admit you’re the one who did all of this.”

You fell against the bed with a soft thud, right next to the expensive lingerie. It was your style, your type. Even through the rage of Jin believing you were trying to seduce him, you can’t help but envision yourself in the lace and letting the man unwrap you.

“It wasn’t me,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t buy something so expensive. You know I prefer secondhand.”

Jin visibly recoiled and rolled his eyes.

“I should spank you for that. You don’t have to lie. You don’t have to save face. I know you did it, baby.”

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

Jin stared at you, eyes seeking answers in your own.

“You’re such a petty bitch sometimes, you know that?” He stalked closer to you, pushing you down into the bed. “Such a little fucking tease. You act like you hate me, yet you can’t stop looking at me. You can’t stop thinking about me. You made me get in bed with you every fucking night and still try to claim you hate me?”

He looked infuriated. It was scary as much as it was arousing.

“Don’t you fucking get that I want you?” Jin asked as he pressed a finger under your chin to make you stare him down. “Do you not understand in that thick head of yours that you drive me fucking crazy?”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Instantly, you tugged him down and crushed your lips to his. You kissed him wildly, no finesse or skill. It’s all mouth and teeth and tongue. Jin groaned into your open mouth, and you pulled away.

“I didn’t fucking set this up,” you stated with intent. “But I will fuck you until you’re not a goddamn asshole anymore.”

He never got the chance to retort any smart-ass remark—your hands pushed him onto the bed and your hands flew to his tight, teasing jeans. Your mouths melded together again with the heat of an oven, meshing together with all passion and fire of your argument now funneled into pure, sexual charge.

Jin’s head rested on the pillows as you hovered above him, trying to tug at his jeans while maintaining a steady assault on his lips.

He chuckled, his own hands coming to assist you as his tongue explored your mouth. He pulled away to kick the jeans off, leaving him in his expensive Balenciaga tight boxers.

“God,” you groaned. You were part aroused by the impressive length pressing against the black fabric, half annoyed that his underwear likely cost half of your paycheck alone. “Fucking ostentatious rich asshole.”

Jin couldn’t help but laugh out loud, but it quickly escaped him as your hand rubbed at his hot bulge, gripping tightly and gritting his teeth to keep from moaning.

“Shit,” he sighed. “If you make me cum in these, I'm taking the cleaner fee out of your paycheck.”

You made a show of rolling your eyes, moving down his body and tugging the fabric down along the way.

“The fact that you get your fucking underwear dry cleaned…,” you sneered.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Jin’s impressive length was now free and thick and hard in your hands. His expensive underwear fell to the floor without a care from either of you as you eyed the stiff cock in your hands.

“Is it everything you’ve dreamed and fantasized of?” He tried to act cool and collected, using his bravado to mask the absolute pleasure he felt at your delicate hand gripping him tightly. He was certain he would cum instantly if he wasn’t careful.

“Hmmm,” you sighed as you gave long, languid pumps with your hand. “I mostly fantasized of kicking you here. But, I’m sure this will be a suitable way to shut you up, too.”

Jin opened his mouth in reply but cut himself off with a strangled groan as your hot mouth descended, taking him fully to the hilt at the back of your throat. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he felt your tight mouth envelop him and suck.

Your mouth worked eagerly, licking and sucking as you began a pace. You’re determined to suck the cocky attitude right out of him. And judging by the look that crossed his face—eyes glazed over in bliss, mouth ajar in pleased disbelief—you’d say you did an outstanding job at it.

His hand moved to your head, a surprisingly gentle grasp in your hair as he held back pieces of your fringe that fell in your face. Your heart thumped harder against your chest, eyes flickering up to his to gaze at him as your mouth continued its assault on his cock.

You cursed yourself the moment your eyes locked with Jin’s. It would be easier to hate him, to think of this as a way to get back at him, if you hadn’t. Now, all you saw was the side of Jin you saw before. The sensitive, passionate Jin who kissed you deeply and held your hand through dinner. The look in his eyes now spoke more than just of sexually charged thoughts—it spoke something tender too.

You quickly forced yourself back to the task at hand. Your tongue swirled around the tip of his head. You forced yourself to see this as sex, nothing more. Your heart was too sensitive to allow other thoughts invading in. What was it that Tae always said to do? Get the dick, secure the bag?

Oh, what did he know—wasn’t the boy head over heels for Jimin, anyway?

Jin’s hand tightened around your hair, encouraging you to come up for air. Your hand kept a steady pace as your lips popped off his length.

“What? Enjoying yourself too much?” You teased as you used your free hand to wipe at the saliva running down your chin.

Jin groaned as he watched your fist still work its way up and down his slick cock.

“Mm,” he sighed and bit his lip. “Yeah, actually. I don’t wanna cum yet. Wanna save it for that bratty little pussy of yours.”

The words made your breath hitch in your throat.

In an instant, Jin had you flipped over and you were prone to him. The devilish grin on his face told you he had you right where he wanted you.

“I hope you had fun thinking you’re the boss,” he murmured as he sat back on his heels and unbuttoned his tight shirt. “Daddy’s in charge now.”

The shiver you feel run down your spine makes you feel too vulnerable, too attracted and exposed to the man above you, now completely naked. His body was cut to perfection, hard lines of his muscles exposed that made your mouth water.

“Didn’t realize you had a daddy kink.” Your attempt to sound bratty failed—both you and Jin knew it. Your eyes were still locked at the way his lower abdomen formed a perfect V line, the slight thatch of hair just above his cock.

“My eyes are up here, baby.”

Your eyes snapped up to him instantly, cheeks turning pink.

“It’s okay. Don’t be shy. Lots of women get overwhelmed when they see the worldwide handsome in the flesh like this too.”

His words rolled around in your stomach uncomfortably and you’re forced to face the reality that Jin does this—a lot. With a lot of women. And you’re overwhelmed by how jealous it makes you. You want to be the only one underneath him, the only one able to graze your fingers down his chest, the only to cry out his name.

And the thought scared you.

So, you did what you did best—ignore it.

Jin’s hard, burning gaze bore into you. His hands reached towards the tops of your jeans and you noted the way he ignored the patches of dirt on the knees from your day at work. In fact, you’re surprised he even let you on the bed in clothes that were shabby too.

The jeans quickly left your body, and Jin hovered over your legs. His hands trailed down the soft satin of your panties, barely covering your core. Your body reacted instantly, thighs moving to press together, but Jin would have none of it.

“Ah, ah,” he warned. “Don’t tell me you’re shy. You never seemed so shy when you’re biting my head off.”

“Shut up,” you murmured, allowing your legs to spread apart again.

Jin lowered himself between your thighs, fingers wrapping around the fabric.

“I see you’re wearing the panties I bought you.”

The look on his face told you he was proud of himself.

“I still hate that you made me buy underwear. Not like you were going to see them.”

Jin sent a look at you, tearing his gaze from your soaked core.

“Oh, then what do you call this?”

Your words caught in your mouth. He got you there.

“...shut up.”

Jin grinned and moved his eyes back towards your cunt, pulling your panties down.

“So mouthy. Someone needs to put you in your place.”

Your mouth opened in a gasp as the panties slide off, a string of slick arousal following it. Jin can’t help but chuckle.

“For all that big talk, you seem to be very excited.”

The desire to be touched quickly outweighed the need to hold your own. With your pussy open and exposed, and Jin’s eyes focused on it like it was his last meal, the burning desire in your stomach nearly bubbles over.

“Jin,” you gasped. “Please.”

“Now, look who’s begging.”

You wanted desperately to wipe the smirk off his face, to put him in his place, but your resolve quickly faded the closer he got to your glistening folds.

“You want me to eat your sweet pussy? Tell me you do. Tell me it’s all you’ve wanted.”

The pride in your heart thuds hard—you can’t find it in you to say it but you ache for his sweet mouth, plushy lips, harsh tongue that would spear into you deliciously.

“Jin, fuck, please,” you begged. “I can’t…”

“I won’t touch you if you don’t,” he explained. “You could be halfway to a screaming orgasm by now if you’d just suck up that pride of yours as well as you sucked my cock.”

Your body squirmed uncomfortably and his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you secured to the bed.

“Fucking say it,” he demanded and the timbre of his voice had your cunt pulsing around nothing.

You’ve finally had it.

“Please! Jin! I fucking need you! God, I always think about fucking you, are you happy?” You asked with frustration boiling over. “I think about you fucking me all—fucking—day. Please, I need you, daddy.”

Jin smirked at the sound of his honorific and knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Good baby girl,” he cooed.

His mouth latched onto your cunt in seconds. His hands spread the folds apart and his tongue darted out to begin a licking motion on your clit. Your eyes snap closed and mouth gaped open in silent pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!” You finally found your voice and your hands grasped at his brawny arms below you, fingers digging into his skin gently.

Jin didn’t hold back. His tongue worked your clit in a frenzy, knowing just where to suck and nibble and lick just right. You hated to admit that for all his bragging he had the skills to back it up.

Your moans encouraged him more, and his hand worked its way in, two fingers slipping into your heat. The added sensation made your back arc off the bed.

“Shit! Oh, shit!” The combination of all the sensations made you keen and your core tightens impossibly. “Oh, fuck, Jin! I’m going to cum!”

He smirked against you and kept his pace, increasing the speed of his finger as his tongue worked you to the height of your climax.

It washed over you—hard. Your vision blacked out around the edges and you’re sure you stopped breathing for ten whole seconds, before your lungs burned and gasped in for air.

Jin pulled his fingers from within you and licked them clean. The cocky aura surrounding him was gone. Now, it felt worshipful. It felt pious.

He didn’t want long before crawling up to you. His lips pressed against your own, your own unsteady breath mixing with his as you tasted your own slick on his tongue. The flavor of your cum and his mouth made you gasp.

Jin pulled away and peered down at you, his thick length now lined up at your soaked core.

“Can I fuck you?” Jin’s voice was gentle. “I have condoms, if you want....”

You nodded your head quickly. “If you’re clean, please… just fuck me like this.”

You didn’t know what came over you—normally a good rule-following type of girl, but something deep down wanted to feel Jin, all of Jin, uninhibited.

His eyes sought into yours for a moment. He held an emotion in there—one that you couldn’t quite recognize , and your heart clenched at the idea that anything other than lust flickered through his consciousness.

“Okay, I’m clean too,” he whispered as his length breached you.

Jin pressed his lips to yours as his cock slid into you, tenderness lacing the movement as he stilled inside you. He held you there for a moment, hands moving to cup your face. His hips remained motionless, and you both melted at the feeling of your bodies joining.

You forced yourself to look away from whatever emotion Jin was trying to reveal through his gaze and moved your hips slightly to encourage him.

He seemed to get the idea and quickly slid himself in and out. The feeling of his bare cock stuffed inside you, each ridge and vein dragging itself in and out of you, felt better than any sex you’d ever had.

Jin’s pace became quicker, and the tender sensuality became quickly replaced with raw passion and lust, which loosened the feeling of vulnerability you felt before.

“God, you’re taking me so good,” he gasped as he plunged himself deep into you, as if to make a point. “You’re so fucking tight and wet for me, fuck, baby.”

Your moans echoed off the luxe walls, and you threw your head back against the fine egyptian cotton pillows. As much as you wanted to hate the display of wealth, you couldn’t help but be grateful for Jin’s need for expensive fabrics. They felt like heaven against your bare skin, and the friction of Jin’s movements made them rub on you deliciously.

“Yes, fuck!” You exclaimed. “You feel so good!”

There was no need to hold back the praise, and you had no desire to either. Jin was fucking you so good that any ideas of hating him had left the second he entered you.

Jin let his head drop to your ears—whispered praises of how good you were, how fucking tight you felt. He continued as he pounded you deeply and pulled your body close to his, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

It didn’t take long for you to feel your second high coming. Jin’s cock hit just the right places, and he dropped a hand to your joined centers to rub at your clit, encouraging your climax to spiral towards the end.

His pace became frantic as he fucked you with fervor and no finesse, hips snapping and pistoning into you as deeply and quickly as he could. Idly, he realized he wished he could be buried in your cunt forever, that he’s likely never felt such a better pussy in his life. And he didn’t want to allow himself to think too hard about what that meant.

He could feel it building, climbing to an ever growing peak that he felt on the brink of summiting. His breath hitched, yours panted heavily, and he felt hypnotized by the way your cries escalated to near screams.

The chase to the end was quick, as Jin quickly worked himself up to his climax as your cunt became tighter and fluttered around his cock the closer you edged to the end. Jin groaned as the feeling inside of him snapped. It pulsed with each shot of his seed into your womb--and he groaned as he felt your walls clench around him as you soared over your own edge.

His name was the only thing you could scream as he kept his pace, allowing your walls to milk him dry. He held himself inside you, allowed him the chance to soak in the feeling of you and him mixing as one.

Your come-down from the orgasm felt slow, languid. Jin’s body laid next to you and his cock still nuzzled deep inside your walls. It felt secure. It made you feel safe, love, full. Your heart beat erratically, combined with the exertion of the act and the physical proximity of the man now lying next to you, breathing just as hard.

His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you in tight, only allowing his cock to slip out of you after he was sure you were secure in his arms. His forehead pressed against yours—eyes seeking your own with that same, tender look from before.

No words were spoken for a moment, just the silence and combined breath of your exhaustion.

Jin kissed you, then. Deep, soft, loving. It felt too real. Too much. It bothered you how much you loved it and wanted it to continue.

“Do you,” he began, before pausing for a moment. “Do you want to maybe… stay longer than a week?”

You bit your lip, pondering his request.

Did you want to leave? Did you want to return to a life of working for the man you just let cum inside you? Could you still pretend to be his wife after experiencing this and walking away?

Did you even want to pretend at all?

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I think I kind of like this gaudy house.”

Jin’s soft smile turned into a smirk and his hands gripped your waist tighter.

“Next thing you know, you’ll be shopping only at Armani.”

“In your fucking dreams, daddy.”

#bts smut #bts social media au #seokjin smut #bts sm au #bts fake texts #bts fake chats #bts imagine #bts texts #bts fics #kim seokjin smut #bts kim seokjin #bts seokjin #worldwide handsome #organic sm au #organic social media au

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personasintro · 4 years ago

Note

Mimi, i adore your books and you’re doing really amazing.

For the record, i hate kiko too. I hate how she cheated and all. I hate how this whole situation kinda suffocate yn and locks her inside.

BUT

Yall need to remember that it’s just a book. A FREE one to be exact. And no one forced you to read it. Of course you have your opinion as a reader but guys, it’s not even a constructive criticism anymore. You guys are just upset that the story doesn’t go to your liking and i don’t know if i need to stress it again but FEEL FREE TO LEAVE🚶‍♀️i mean yo, first of all, it’s not even that deep. It’s just, repeat after me, A BOOK. And yes it’s only natural that when someone really loves a book they begin to overindulge by learning the characters’ behavior and everything, mad when someone dies, etc etc. But what you did by over-criticizing mimi is wrong in so many levels. I get it that you guys are so angry because kiko is being such a bitch and jungkook being just a normal person who’s madly in love with a girl, and i despise kiko too. I know some of you mentioned that it’s a “Y/N x Jungkook” ff so it should be weighing more to yn and jk interaction, and you’re absolutely right about that. I do see it lacking of yn pov privilege but this matter was already cleared as mimi explained that it is a slow burn story and things will fall into places eventually. Also guys, THEY ARE JUST IMAGINARY CHARACTERS. Mimi explaining her behaviors was because mimi IS the writer. Mimi MADE kiko and yn and even jk’s characteristics. I hope you guys are not hoping that the real jeon jeongkook from bts would behaving the same way as jk from mh. It’s up to a writer if they want to explain shits about their OC. In your eyes it might looks like someone who’s protecting their problematic friend but bestie, guess what? News flash it’s not. You can be all mad to kiko but leave mimi alone. You guys love to read right? Then try to spend your time on scrolling mimi’s page a bit, mimi already explained A LOT about what how and why kiko is doing what she does which is for all i can see is a charity for yall overly obsessed mfks. I got mad too when kiko appeared and doing her shit, i cursed too, a lot, but i kept that to myself because what? That’s the art of reading. You cry, you get angry, you laugh. I mean come on, imagine every time a writer wrote something that irritates the readers and they have to change the whole plot based on what their readers want, that would end up being hilarious and the plot would be bland af.

You might think I’m overreacting but im not doing all of this without a worthy reason, I’ve been following MH from the first chapter and I’ve read all of your ridiculous demands and just when i thought yall going to stop after mimi explained everything, you chose to be blind. So i feel like i need to step up a bit.

I write too, okay? But i never post anything on anywhere because i don’t want to deal with this kind of shit where i give people free stuff to enjoy but instead of supporting me they would rather be a bully.

Bestie, i take it that you already read all of the chapters, if it’s a paid story you’d already spent a lot. Please just think about that simple logic first when you’re going to talk shit to mimi or any writer out there.

To sum up everything: constructive criticism is okay, you can complain if there’s any grammatical errors or about how to write certain narrative, but keep your subjective opinions towards any character to yourself. Especially if the writer already explained themselves.

To mimi, i still hate kiko with all of my soul but thank you for sharing your amazing books with us. I really suggest you if they keep doing it, instead of stop writing and gain nothing in return, you could be just as petty and move all of your books somewhere like patreon and set a high charge. At least if they want to complain they gotta pay first.

Also im not writing anonymously because im not a pu$$y like all of you internet’s karen.

I'm very passionate about my stories and it was probably my mistake that I tried to make a conversation about characters and the story itself. It's okay to not like characters, it's okay to mention it when you guys give me feedback and share your reactions! That's totally fine. What I'm trying is to talk to you guys about it, sometimes share my own opinion about it but overall, I'm just trying to have a conversation and interact with you guys. I didn't think me trying to show different perspective in multiple situations means that I love Kiko or root for Kiko/Jungkook. I don't want you to think you can't share your opinions just because I've something say to it, most likely reacting to it. I mean you guys ask questions and send me asks, and I answer and react, right? This is how it should work.

What the main problem of this entire thing is those disrespectful asks attacking me for characters I'm writing. I might be the author of it, but it's still a story I'm trying to tell. You want to get mad at characters? Okay, so be it. Be mad. But don't be mad at me for trying to talk to you. If someone doesn't like how the story is going, just don't read it. It's very simple. I've lost count how many times I already said this.

I don't cry over those asks, I don't sulk over it and it doesn't bother me the way they probably hope it does. I've my fair share of laughter whenever I read those asks because it's clear it's purely made to harass me. None of those anons couldn't tell me what is the main reason of their asks. I'm just genuinely curious what they want from me or what they expect. On the other hand, as much as I'm trying to understand them, I don't really care. I don't want any negativity on this blog and it's no my problem they keep reading a story they apparently don't like.

But hey, I still get those reads and they waste their time to send me those asks🤡 who's the real winner here?💅

Anyway, sorry this got long! Thank you so much for this ask, you're really sweet for writing all of this!💜

#ask #ask: mutual help

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transkingoryx · 4 years ago

Text

fall between the cracks

Pairing: Azula & Katara, background Zutara

Wordcount: 1998

Summary: Azula has a nightmare, and calls Katara. Modern AU

Other notes: so, I wrote this for a gift exchange for a server i’m in, but my giftee asked not to be tagged if i posted it outside the server, so here it is!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480725

Azula shot upright, eyes wide and gasping for air. It was just a dream; you don’t need to get so upset over it, she berated herself, trying to steady her racing pulse. She could still see it in her mind, her father standing in front of her, the hateful lies he’d insisted were true echoing in her head.

You should have been better. You failed. You didn’t do your duty. And the worst of them all: You're just as bad as Zuko. For all her life, ‘Zuko’ had been Ozai’s synonym for disappointment, worthless, weak, and everything else she wasn’t supposed to be. She knew that her brother was none of those things, but the opinions she’d had drilled into her head for her entire childhood wouldn’t let go. You weren’t good enough. It hadn’t been her fault. If you had been better, this wouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t her fault. You could have stopped this. It couldn’t have been her fault-

She dove for her phone, and dialed the first number that came to mind.

“Azula?” Katara’s tired voice filled her ears. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I apologize for waking you. I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice sounded small and empty. Exactly the way she felt. “I will call back in the morning.” She moved to hang up, but Katara spoke first.

“Wait. What’s wrong?” the other girl asked.

“I… I had a nightmare.” It sounded foolish once she said it out loud, and Azula opened her mouth to take the words back, to lie and convince Katara it was nothing. But once again, her friend answered before she could.

“About your father?”

“Yes,” Azula admitted. “I understand it’s ridiculous to still be thinking about something that happened in college now, but-”

“I’ll be right over,” Katara promised, and the line went dead in Azula’s hand. She stared at it uncomprehendingly. Katara cares about you, she reminded herself. She cares.

In what seemed like forever and no time at all, a quiet knock sounded at her apartment door. Azula swung her legs over the edge of her bed, and stood up quickly- too quickly, it seemed, as the motion set her head spinning. She waited for the dizziness to pass, and walked to the front door. When she opened it, Katara gave her a quick hug. Azula stepped back awkwardly, wordlessly inviting her friend to come in.

Seeing her uncertainty, Katara took her arm, and led her to the kitchen. Once they were there, Azula moved with stiff and practiced efficiency, selecting ingredients and placing them on the countertop. In barely two minutes, there were two warm cups of tea on the table. Jasmine, Uncle and Zuko’s favorite.

Once they were both settled, and sipping at their tea, Katara looked at Azula expectantly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, obviously concerned.

“High school,” Azula said, bitterly. “Was a series of unrealistic and harmful expectations piled on top of me, one after another, with consequences when those impossibilities were not met. College was the result of those three years of buildup exploding in my father’s face, and by extension, mine.”

Katara nodded, clearly struggling to keep any signs of pity off her face.

“I was the envy of the entire school. Popular, intelligent, powerful. And then Iroh helped Zuko come forward about what had happened and when the news broke-” Azula snapped her fingers “-nobody wanted anything to do with the true failure, me. Just like that. Even Ty Lee and Mai abandoned me. I went from the most liked to most hated, in a matter of hours.” She grimaced. “I didn’t come to school for two weeks, but I heard the rumors. She was in on it, he hired someone to fake her success, and all the rest. I never stopped hearing it, not for the rest of my life. Every interview, I’m asked what my role was in what happened to Zuko. If I attempt to befriend someone, they inevitably demand to know what really happened. And if I don’t give the answer they want...” She stared at her feet. “I keep wondering if it’s worth trying again.”

“I didn’t know that it still affected your career.” Katara looked down at her feet. “If you want, I can pull some strings, get you a comfortable position in my company-”

“Thank you, but no.” Azula stopped her. “If I succeed, I have to do it on my own. Otherwise, I’ll just be proving what they all said about me. That my successes will always come from other people’s generosity. Not to mention what it would do to your reputation.”

“Alright,” Katara nodded, knowing exactly what Azula meant. After all, she had gone through the same thing rising to the top of her company, despite Pakku and the others on the Board of Executives doing their best to stop her. “But you need to know that having help doesn’t diminish your accomplishments. There is nothing wrong with needing help sometimes.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about more than jobs?”

Katara shifted in her seat. “I know you didn’t want to when Zuko first brought it up, but I was wondering if you were still so against going to therapy.” Azula flinched from the word, bringing her hands together to rest in her lap. She straightened her posture, feeling like she had to hide all signs of the emotional turmoil inside her.

“My answer remains the same as it did then.” Azula spoke slowly, her words measured and careful.

“Are you sure? I know it helped your brother,” Katara pressed. “Or if you’re uncomfortable with that, maybe you could try talking to Zuko instead-”

“What happened to Zuko and what happened to me are completely different things,” Azula snapped. “We may have both been hurt by our fathe- Ozai, but our experiences were fundamentally different on every other level. He was the hero, Katara. I was just something for my father to brag about. Zuko faded into slightly positive-tinged obscurity after he exposed Phoenix Industries, and I have been vilified by mainstream news reports and my past defines everything I do. He had help and support from Iroh, and I was left to fall through the cracks. Do not insinuate that we went through the same thing in the end.” Katara seemed surprised by the ruthlessness and efficiency with which Azula delivered her argument. And why shouldn’t she be? I’m sure Zuko doesn’t dwell on this as much as I do. But still, Katara had clearly been hurt by her harsh words. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I get it. You’re not thinking straight right now.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Azula stared down at her hands, screaming at herself internally for testing Katara’s patience at- she checked her watch- three-thirty in the morning. She was a fool for bringing Katara into this, a fool for telling her everything, and a fool for never being strong enough to handle anything on her own. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless.

Blinking back tears, she avoided Katara’s gaze. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. I will most likely be fine in the morning.” Most likely, you’ll be calling in sick to work and sobbing in bed for two hours in the morning. Bad enough that you’re lying again, you don’t even sound convincing.

“Azula, look me in the eyes and tell me that again.”

She forced herself to maintain eye contact, and forced her voice to remain steady as she spoke. “I will be fine in the morning.” Liar. Liar. Liar. That’s all you do, isn’t it? All you can even do anymore.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Katara slammed her cup down on the table with surprising force. “Do you have any idea how unconvincing you sound?”

“I’m fin-”

“No! Don’t say you’re fine. You’re not fine, and anyone with a single brain cell can see that!” Katara waved her hands as if hitting the air would make Azula listen to her. “I’m completely sick of watching you run yourself into the ground again and again! You take extra shifts at both your jobs and stay up late trying to find a job where you can use what you learned at that fancy law school, and then you burn yourself out trying to be everything you’re supposed to be, while still holding fast to your nothing-to-do-with-Ozai policy! You take a day off to recover, and start the whole cycle again the next day! I hate watching you do this to yourself!” Katara continued her diatribe, but it blurred together in Azula’s ears. Burned out. That sounded about right. But what was the other part? Could it be that Katara couldn’t stand Azula’s method of being a functioning adult? Or perhaps that Katara felt responsible for her, as Azula’s closest (and only) friend? It didn’t seem that way, from the passionate tirade alone.

“Why are you doing this?”

Katara blinked, interrupted mid-rant. “You mean why am I trying to make you take care of yourself?”

“Yes. Why are you trying to make me take care of myself, and offering me assistance in life? The system I currently have is working fine, and doesn’t affect you in any way. I can’t make sense of it. The only possible explanation that I can think of is that Zuko or Ursa put you up to it.”

“Didn’t you say your mother wanted nothing to do with you?”

“You’re avoiding the question. Why?” Azula barely managed to disguise her wince at the mention of her mother. It was her own fault, she supposed, for bringing Ursa into it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Katara blinked. “You’re my friend, and I want what’s best for you. What, did you think I hated you?”

“Well, at first, yes,” Azula confessed, shocked. “I assumed you were spending time around me for Zuko’s sake, and mistook your… forceful personality for hatred of me.”

Katara shook her head and started to laugh. “I’ve gotta say, between dating Zuko and having Sokka for a brother, I’ve heard a lot of things like that, but what you just said takes the cake.”

“Hmph.” Azula tried to frown, but wound up smiling instead

“It’s true,” Katara teased lightheartedly. “I don’t know how you got it into your head that my way of showing complete and utter contempt was showing up at your door with cupcakes on your birthday, or inviting you over for dinner, or coming to your house at three in the morning because you had a nightmare.” She grinned. “Of course, they could have been poisoned cupcakes.”

Azula laughed. “Oh yes, they were definitely poisoned, that’s why they probably had more sugar in them then most desserts.”

“Toph gave me the recipe, you know she has a sweet tooth.”

“Have Mai and Ty Lee finally realized that their pining isn’t one-sided yet?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Katara gave a half-smile. “It seemed like they never would, but it finally happened.”

“I’m happy for them.” Azula smiled. “It’s unlikely that either of them will ever want to speak to me again, but I wish them the best.”

They both lapsed into comfortable silence, sipping their tea and relaxing in each others’ company. After a while, Katara had to leave, as she had work the next day.

“Be brave, okay?” She hugged Azula.

“I’ll try.” Azula hugged back.

The next morning, when her alarm went off, Azula rolled out of bed and stared at the next law firm in her notebook. She pulled up the website on her phone, and was immediately drawn to the sentence in the description that they specialized in dealing with corrupt employers and large megacorporations. In a perfect world, where she wasn’t Ozai’s daughter, it would have been an excellent fit for her. Azula typed the number into her phone, and hovered her finger over the call button. Would they turn her away upon finding out who she was? Be brave, Azula. Katara’s voice echoed in her head.

Azula made the call.

#platonic azutara #zutara #azula #katara #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla fic #misty writes

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sayyestomi · 4 years ago

Text

can’t fight this feeling

a/n:i thought of this ship awhile ago so i got hyperfixated and wrote a lot enjoy

duckie dale and marty mcfly had been best friends since 4th grade, when marty moved to elgin. they bonded over drawing weird things and having goofy inside jokes. they even had their own made up language. duckie was constantly at marty’s house playing and having fun with him. duckie slept over a lot. marty didn’t mind. he really liked having duckie around. sometimes duckie slept in marty’s bed when he was having nightmares so marty would just hold him and tell him about a comic book he read.

duckie and marty were pretty good friends with andie. duckie was closer to her but marty didn’t mind. he liked their little friend group. but in 8th grade, duckie caught feelings for andie. marty was starting to get left behind. duckie would start forgetting to invite marty to hang out with him. marty could never figure out why he couldn’t like andie like duckie did, or even girls at all. he had a small fling with jennifer parker but it didn’t work out.

senior year was the worst year of it all. duckie was still in love with andie but marty was in love with duckie. and it crushed him because it took him so long to come to terms with himself and he couldn’t even tell him how he felt. marty was a little relieved that andie didn’t like duckie back, but it pained him seeing his best friend so upset. duckie and marty still sat together at lunch but andie sat with another girl at a different table. marty kinda missed her but duckie thought it was a perfect time to scheme up a plan to get andie.

andie liked this guy named blane. now blaine was very pretty, at least marty thought so. duckie hated blane, with a burning passion. blane was one of the rich kids but he was actually really nice. every day at lunch, duckie would plot on how to get rid of this guy. marty understood, it was starting to become clearer when he started thinking of ways to get rid of andie. now marty still loved andie like a sister but duckie was letting her get to his head.

duckie was a mess. he didn’t even really like andie the way he thought he did. but he couldn’t help but like her. his jealousy was at his worst when marty was with jennifer parker. he absolutely hated her. more than he could ever hate blane. he was relieved when her and marty broke up. he still couldn’t figure out why he was so jealous when girls would flirt with marty. he’d spent sleepless nights trying to practice confessing to andie how he felt. he couldn’t seem to get it right. one night he decided to replace andie with marty and it felt more natural. if that felt natural, maybe practicing kissing on marty would feel natural too.

duckie asked marty if he could come over. marty eagerly agreed since he missed duckie hanging out with him outside of their lunch table. duckie just went home with marty and they went up to marty’s room.

“marty, can i, uh, ask you something?” duckie asked nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“yeah of course! what’s up?” marty beamed, looking up from one of his textbooks.

“can you do me a favor and let me practice kissing on you?”

“sure i guess.” marty shrugged.

duckie moved closer to marty, just admiring the other boy for a moment. a lot of feelings came in that moment but he just ignored them. he cupped marty’s cheek in his hand, pulling his face close. he took a deep breath and closed the small gap between their lips. both of them instantly melting like ice cream on a hot brownie. duckie snaked his hand up to play with marty’s hair. marty gripped onto duckie’s shirt as he deepened their kiss. their little heaven was interrupted when duckie shoved marty off.

“i gotta go home. i’ll see you at school tomorrow.” duckie breathed out, packing up his stuff before practically rushing out of the mcfly house.

marty was breathless as he just tried to process what just happened. he flopped back on his bed and just daydreamed about kissing duckie as many times as he wanted to. he knew it was only a daydream since that kiss was for practice so duckie could kiss andie. marty didn’t want duckie to kiss andie. he wanted duckie to kiss him.

prom season rolled around. marty had been asked a few times but he politely declined since he wanted to go with duckie, like he did every other school dance. he was hoping his thing with andie would wear off. it didn’t. marty witnessed blane and andie fighting. he didn’t know what to do about duckie, but right now andie needed a shoulder to cry on. after blane left, marty went over and just gave her a hug.

“thanks marty,” andie murmured, “would you want to take me to the prom? not as boyfriend and girlfriend but as friends.”

marty just sighed and pulled away from the hug. he grabbed andie’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “andie, i would love to take you to the prom, but there’s a boy i know who would love to take you to the prom more than anyone else in the whole wide world.”

“who?”

“duckie dale.”

“i figured you’d say that. but i’m actually considering it now.”

“ask him. because i know damn well he won’t ask you,” marty chuckled.

“i’ll call him later tonight. thanks marty i owe you one.” andie kissed marty’s cheek before going to her next class.

later that night, andie did in fact call duckie that night. all while marty was in his room feeling absolutely miserable. his phone rang and he decided to answer it.

“marty she asked me to go to the prom with her! i am going to the prom with andie!!” marty could feel duckie’s big smile through the phone. he could also feel his heart drop to his stomach.

“earth to marty are ya still there?” duckie giggled.

“yeah, yeah i’m still here.” marty murmured, fiddling with the pencil in his hand.

“is something wrong?”

“no i’m just not feeling all that great tonight. i’ll talk to you at school tomorrow maybe.”

“wait marty don’t hang up yet. i need to ask you something.”

“what is it?”

“are you going to prom this weekend?”

“maybe. i don’t know yet. why?”

“i dunno. maybe you could hang out with andie and i if you went.”

“duckie i really gotta go. goodnight.” marty quickly hung up the phone before duckie could get another word out. hot tears streamed down his face as he buried his face into a pillow, just quietly sobbing.

duckie didn’t understand why marty was so quick to hang up. usually they’d be on the phone for hours. but ever since he started liking andie their friendship was kind of off. he missed marty a lot. he didn’t wanna lose him over some stupid girl. andie wasn’t just some stupid girl, at least not to him. marty knew him and andie had been closer but marty didn’t care. duckie understood why marty wouldn’t wanna hang out anymore if all he was gonna do was talk about andie.

prom was finally here. marty’s bandmates had convinced him to play so he just took up on the offer. he wore a dress jacket with a plain white tee, a pair of jeans, and a red tie. eventually the jacket and the tie came off since it was getting hot in the auditorium. he just so happened to look up right when duckie and andie were coming in. marty stepped back and gave his bandmates a cue. the music started to slow and the lights dimmed. marty stepped up to the mic.

“this is for that special someone i should’ve confessed to a long time ago.” marty said with a small smile before stepping back.

the keyboard started and soon enough marty was back up at the mic. “i can’t fight this feeling any longer. and yet i’m still afraid to let it flow. what started out as friendship has grown stronger...” he sang.

by now andie was off dancing with blane, as she should’ve been in the first place. duckie was just staring at the stage as he just watched marty, still trying to figure out who that special someone he was talking about was.

“and i can’t fight this feeling anymore. i’ve forgotten what i started fighting for…” marty realized duckie still wasn’t getting the hint so when the song was over, the band took a break and let the dj take over the music.

marty set his guitar down and went over to duckie. duckie was over by the bleachers by himself but immediately perked up when marty came around.

“so who was that special someone you were talking about up there?” duckie asked.

“it was you duckie.”

“you’re joking.”

“nope. i’ve liked you for a long time. just couldn’t find the words or the courage until tonight. now let’s go outside. i wanna do something.” marty got up and grabbed duckie’s hand, dragging him outside. duckie’s face was a bright pink as marty led him to the side of the school where no one could see them. marty pulled duckie into a deep kiss. they immediately melted, just like the first time they kissed. the kiss was longer than the first time. more enjoyable too now that they didn’t have to worry about andie. marty was the first one to pull away.

“i love you duckie dale.”

“i love you too marty mcfly.”

#back to the future #fanfic #crossover fanfiction #marty mcfly #duckie dale #andie walsh #blane mcdonough #friends to lovers #jealousy #mlm fanfic

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mysterioh · 5 years ago

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 11

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

A/N: just a short filler chap.

Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

"So you're a mobster now?" Quentin interrogated like a cop. A very judgemental and somewhat betrayed cop.

You look up from your book. "No, where did you get something stupid like that from?"

"You just said you're friends with that jerk!" He spat for the whole library to hear.

"Would you stop shouting we're in a library," you hissed.

"He's a fucking criminal," Quentin jeered.

"Listen he isn't so bad," you explained. You weren't defending him. You were just being honest. "He's kinda nice. He beat the crap out of this guy for me."

"Now you're making him kill for you?" He asked incredulously, "God, what's wrong with you?"

You rolled your eyes in aggravation. "I'm not doing anything like that!" You snapped. "He just so happened to be at work and helped me."

"Uh-huh, yeah," the brunette scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in his chair. "Ever thought he might've put that guy there to do that to you?"

"What are you talking about?" you squinted at him, leaning towards him and against the table, slightly peeved by his attitude.

"What if it was all planned?" Quentin suggested. "What if he did it so he could make you like him?"

You shook your head in denial. "He wouldn't do something like that. He's not that kinda guy." Okay, why am I sticking up for this guy?

"Oh and you know a lot about him for some reason," he taunted whilst shaking his hands back and forth.

You grumbled audibly, slamming your book shut. "If you're gonna be an asshole Quentin, I'll just leave."

His hands drop and so do his shoulders. The curve of his lips runs crooked and you can tell he feels sorry. It wasn't so hard to read him. He knew you inside and out, and you knew him outside and in.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be," he sighed regretfully. "I'm just worried about you. This guy's bad news, Y/N," he warned.

"He's in the damn mob. Hell, he is the mob. He runs the entire New York crime syndicate for crying out loud!" He shakes his arms animatedly. "Extortion, racketeering, drugs, all the worst things you could possibly imagine probably has something to do with him," he drops his arms and you could see he's doesn't like any of this. "I just don't want you to get stuck in that kinda life."

You blush a tiny bit and sit back in your seat. You twirled a piece of hair around your finger, trying to avoid his eyes by looking at your book. "But he's never really talked to me about the mob stuff. Sometimes I think he doesn't even remember he's in the mob."

"That could be for now. You don't know the future. What if he does a total 180 when he's got you in real deep?" He asked.

"It's not like that." You replied. "We're just friends."

"Just friends?"

"Just friends," you stated firmly. "Besides weren't you the one who told me to make friends? To get out of my comfort zone?"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you to get all smoochy-smoochy with a criminal," he counters.

"It was nothing like that!" you defended yourself. "You're such a jerk!" You crossed your arms and looked away with a pout.

He chuckled, finding your reaction really cute. "You sure there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" He asked one last time.

"No, there isn't," you shake your head, defiantly.

"You crushing on this guy or something?" He dropped.

A burning hue of red darkens your cheeks and your face tells more than words could ever say.

"Oh my god, you are!" He groaned loudly, almost teasingly, slightly obnoxious. He slapped his forehead with his hand and wove his fingers into his hair. He shook his head in disappointment. "Where did I go wrong?"

"S-shut up!" You stammered.

"She's in love with a mobster," he repeated to himself as if he didn't believe it the first time.

"Shut your face before I do it for you." You leaned over the table, pushing it slightly towards him in an attempt to intimidate him.

He points at you while laughing. "Look at you!" He roared, loud enough to earn them a few glares from everyone else. "You're blushing like crazy!"

"N-no I'm not!" You refuted, cheeks burning brighter than ever. Why did you even tell him in the first place? Oh right, he's your best friend. Your very stupid friend who laughed at the dumbest things. You kicked him from underneath the table. He winces in pain but doesn't dare stop laughing.

"Ow, you tryna kill me, mob woman?" He asked between fits of laughter.

"I hate you."

"Mrs. Y/N Rogers," he hums while thinking, "has a nice ring to it."

A vein in your forehead snaps and the next thing Quentin knows, he's kissing a really heavy textbook, and wondering what his post-mortem was going to look like.

Quentin Beck. Male. 22. A whole idiot.

Cause of death: Bludgeoned to death with a Campbell Biology textbook. (She thick as fuck).

"So I take it things went well?" Bucky asked with a smirk, sitting across Steve in his office.

"Better than well." Steve beamed. "Amazing. Fantastic. Superb. Had the best damn time of life," he exclaimed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "All she did was kiss you on the cheek," he deadpanned.

"It's a step in the right direction," he stated positively. No bad vibes in his neighborhood. "This is monumental. We're really going somewhere. I could see it in her eyes. They were sparkling. I mean they always do but like more than usual."

"Y'think she even wants anything to do with the mob?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but I sure as hell won't stop now," he countered.

The days following his lovely talk with you by the bus stop only consisted of daydreams and giggles, scene by scene replays of his favorite parts. The way your eyes shined under a starless sky. The feel of your lips on his skin. The feel of your lips on his skin.

Though it was short and quick, you kissed him. That had to mean something right? Something really good? There's a lot he still needs to know about you. But from what he did know, he knew you wouldn't just kiss any guy. You're a tough shell to crack and it might take time for him to chisel through the stony layers surrounding your heart, but he was getting somewhere.

Steve wasn't complaining. He was excited and determined. If this is what it felt like with just a meager kiss, then how would it feel to hold your hand? To share those cozy moments you said you liked so much? To be the only one you'd share your warmest smiles and most passionate kisses with?

The thought of that alone had Steve riled up like a shaken soda can. Fizzling inside and ready to burst the minute someone popped him open. God, if only you knew what you did to him.

"She's a bit of a firecracker. I think she'd make a nice addition to the family." Sam smirked, knowing full well he was striking a chord in the man's heart.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle. Shaking his head lightly, he thinks about it just for a second. "Yeah, she's great."

"Now to more serious matters," Bucky interjected, reminding them why they were in the first place. He pushes a file in front of him. Steve opens it to find a picture of a man along with some papers. "Guy by the name of Rumlow wants to talk to you."

Steve raised a brow while looking through. "Who's he?"

"They call him Bullseye. He never misses a shot. He's also a bigtime narcotics man," Sam replied, "Gotta big field all the way in Morocco."

"Says he wants to expand the business," Bucky continued. "He's working with the Lucchese family, Helped him buy a warehouse and fronts to get set up."

"We've already got guys like him," Steve dropped the folder back onto the desk.

"Yeah, but this guy's different." Bucky pointed out. "This stuff that he's got is top of the market. And if we don't get in on this action it's gonna be a major loss." He stated. "Maybe not now or tomorrow but in the next ten years. I mean who knows?"

Steve frowns slightly while scratching the side of his neck. "I don't know. I don't trust him," he said doubtfully."Sam?"

Sam shrugs. "It's all on you big man."

Steve huffs. "Fine, I wanna meeting with this guy," he gets up and pulls his jacket off his chair. "Sometime tomorrow. And before that, I want every piece of information you can get on him on my desk in the morning. Send Clint and Scott."

Steve put his coat on and slipped his phone in his pocket.

Bucky raised a brow. "Where ya going?"

"Out," he replied curtly, heading for the door. He opens the door and they already know where he's going. Steve pops his head back in. "Oh and tell 'em to take the kid with 'em. I don't pay him to sit around all day," he reminded them. "Teach the kid some ropes and make sure he doesn't get shot in the head for saying something stupid, alright?"

"He's a pain in the ass," Bucky deadpanned.

"Never said he wasn't," Steve retorted. "But I don't need his auntie on my bad side. So do me a favor and deal with it," he stated firmly.

"Easy for you to say," Sam jabbed. "You're not the one who's stuck listening to him yapping about Star Wars or some crap. Kid's a nerd," he grumbles.

Steve chuckles while leaving. "Leave him alone. He's a good kid," he contended. "Anyways, I'm off."

"Why are you here?" You deadpanned.

"You don't seem very happy to see me," Steve said, sitting on one of the barstools lining the granite counter with a mischievous grin splayed on his face.

"That's because I'm not," you said flatly, wiping down the counter.

"Ouch, that hurt me right here," he winced while clutching his heart.

"That was my intention," you remarked, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face.

Steve notices it. He obviously did. Nothing ever went past those pretty blue eyes. He leans over the counter with his arms crossed on top.

"Doesn't seem like it," he teases.

You click your tongue and push his face out of yours. He chuckles and you couldn't help but let go of a chuckle or two.

"You're an idiot, Rogers," you remarked.

Steve props the side of his face with his hand, watching the way you move around the place, frolicking from one spot to another. He watched you like you had the stars in your hands and hung them up in the sky. Even in a dull all-black uniform and hair twisted in a loose bun with a few strands running rampant, there's a glow to you that has him warm on the inside. Your face was bare, only marked with an acne scar here and there and dark circles underneath your eyes due to a lack of sleep and yet, he thinks you're the prettiest thing in the world.

"What?" You asked puzzled and slightly embarrassed.

"Nothing," he smiled, a tint of pink spreading on his cheeks.

"Don't you have anything to do?" You asked. "Or is the mob all talk and no work?"

"I finished early," Steve replied with a chuckle. "So I thought I'd meet my favorite waitress."

"Oh, I'm so honored," you replied sarcastically earning a roll of the eyes from him. You leaned over the counter in front of him with a smirk. "And what have I done to earn a visit from the high and mighty kingpin?"

"Stole my heart," he murmurs.

"What?" You asked standing straight. I didn't hear that. Let's pretend I didn't hear that.

"N-nothing," he quickly replied.

You shake it off as a trick of the mind. "Well if you're here we might as well do something," you dug your hand into your pocket.

"Good idea!" He exclaimed.

"Here," you slammed a stack of cards with a rubber band twisted a few times around.

He furrowed his brows. "What the heck is this?"

"My flashcards. You're gonna help me study," you stated calmly.

Steve groans. "I thought we'd do something more heartfelt to get to know each other more."

"There's the door if you wanna leave," you deadpanned.

"Fine," Steve huffs. "Gimme that." He snatches the cards from you.

Slipping off the rubber band, he flips through the cards and picks a random one.

"Alright," he reads the flashcard. First, he squints then opens them wide in confusion. "I don't understand what this says. It's not even in English."

"Lemme see that," you took it from him.

"It says deoxyribonucleic acid."

"What the fuck is that?" He questioned, his nose scrunched in disgust.

"Its DNA, stupid head," you retorted, slightly annoyed.

"Then why didn't you just write that?"

"Cause I wanna practice spelling it, moron, and cut the sass before I end up kicking your ass to next Tuesday."

Steve smiled, feeling a streak of mischief. "Damn, sweetheart, you sound so pretty when you talk like that. Keep going." He cooed.

Your cheeks burn read. "D-don't say things like that! You're such a weirdo!" You stammered with an angry pout.

"Oh, my heart!" He exclaimed while clutching his chest. "You're making me see stars!”

"Shut up, you idiot!"

"Why don't you make me with those pretty lips of yours?" Unable to say anything you yank on his ear hard and he yelps. "Ouch, that hurts!"

"Fucking good!" You shouted still pulling on him.

Wanda watched from the small window of the kitchen with a smile. "They make a good match, don’t they?" She asked May. May chuckles while watching you pour out your rage on the poor mob man.

"Like peanut butter and jelly."

A/N: School starts next week for me so updates will get slow.

TAG LIST: @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @calwitch @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @voltage-my2dlove

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve #steve rogers #mobster!steve rogers #mobster steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x y/n

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metalnmagick · 4 years ago

Text

Well I started out wanting to write nickles mic sharing but it turned into Magnus having his first of many diva tantrums and well. Here you go.

Contains: Nickles (if you squint) and also MagNate (also if you squint), fighting, and general jackassery and jealousy on Magnus’ part. Enjoy!

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith did not intend for any of this to happen.

They’d never intended on Pickles usurping Magnus as backup vocalist, but Nathan figured since Pickles had been a vocalist previously and his voice was more distinct, he was a better fit. That much had been fine with Magnus, who preferred to devote himself to his guitar anyway. But this… This was a little much.

“No, it’s never gonna work if we don’t come in at the same time.” Pickles sighs, getting up from his drum kit and walking over to Nathan. “Look, just keep yer eyes on me when we do it.” He reaches forward, hands touching Nathan’s as he holds the mic with him.

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith does not have feelings for Nathan Explosion. They've just become used to each other over the time they’ve spent together trying to get Dethklok off the ground. Nathan has been the only one able to handle Magnus. Nobody else has the right dedication or vision to keep up with Magnus’ lofty standards.

And sometimes if cramped hotel rooms throw them together into one bed, and they’ve both been drinking, that’s just been due to circumstance. Nothing deeper to being tangled together on a twin sized bed, nothing deeper to whiskey flavored tongues pressing together under the flickering light of a lamp whose bulb should have been changed long ago, nothing deeper to heaving chests and desperate grunts in the fevered heat of drunken passion.

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith is absolutely not jealous. He just thinks it’s embarrassing how shamelessly Pickles flirts with their frontman.

“You don’t have to hold the mic for me, I’m not a kid.”

“I’m not holdin’ it for ya. I’m holdin’ it with ya.” Pickles rolls his eyes, smiling good naturedly. “We gotta sync up if we want this t’sound any good. We’ll go slower this time. Don’t think about how it sounds, just think about us keepin’ pace.” Nathan nods in response and Pickles turns to Magnus, pushing teased red hair off of his shoulder to see him better. “Okay, let’s try this again, but a little slower. Ready?” Magnus grunts in response, placing his fingers on the strings. He starts to play, a little slower this time.

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith did not write this song to be a duet. Pickles was the one who swooped in with his brilliant idea, and Nathan never turns Pickles’ ideas down. He insists Pickles knows what he’s talking about, but Magnus thinks he knows more. He wrote the damn song after all. But he hates arguing over relatively small details, so he had let Pickles do what he thought was best.

Nathan has to crouch slightly so they’re on the same level, and their mouths are separated only by the microphone and scarcely an inch of space on each side. Magnus bites his tongue to keep from telling them to get a room, and continues playing.

Nathan’s eyes are fixed on Pickles’ lips as they sing, trying to stay with him as the song picks up. They’re doing alright so far, and once they get through the first section of the song, Pickles gestures for Magnus to stop.

“Yer doin’ great!” He pats Nathan on the shoulder encouragingly. “Just pay attention to when I breathe in, because there’s not a whole lotta room to do it in this one.” Nathan nods, and they stand there, talking about nothing, faces still so close they look like they’re whispering about something.

“Magnus, you okay?” Nathan asks, taking him by surprise. “You look pissed.”

“I’m fine.” Magnus says, letting out a short huff. “I just need a drink.” He sets his guitar down on a chair and leaves, walking to the makeshift kitchen in their practice space, not even asking if they want anything.

He stands by the fridge, beer in hand, and tries not to think about the way Nathan’s eyes lingered on Pickles’ lips a little too long after they finished singing. Tries not to think of the way their fingers locked together around the mic, as if it was all too natural for them. Tries not to think about the way it burns him up inside how they look at each other, how they laugh together like old friends, how Nathan gushes about him nonstop when he isn’t around.

Magnus peers into the room as he finishes off the latter half of his beer, and nearly rolls his eyes all the way back into his skull. Pickles is standing half-behind-half-beside Nathan at his drums, hands on his, guiding him with the sticks to show him how it works. Like something out of a cheap romance movie.

“So that’s the easy part. But now ya gotta multitask.” Pickles slides one leg forward between Nathan’s to hit the pedal. Magnus can see Nathan blushing from here, and it makes him sick. He pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, lighting it and taking a deep drag.

“So how did you even learn the drums?” Nathan asks.

“‘S a helluva lot easier than the guitar. Just kinda paid attention to our drummer in Snakes n’ Barrels when he played. Easy enough to pick up on.” Pickles shrugs, keeping his eyes on the drums.

Smug fucking bastard. Magnus thinks, scoffing to himself. False modest piece of-

“Magnus, you almost done in there?” Pickles calls, walking away from Nathan and his drums and back over to the mic. “I wanna try ‘n go through that last one a couple more times.” Magnus crushes the empty beer can in his hand on a countertop, tossing it in the trash and walking back in. He tries to maintain his composure as he puts his guitar back on.

“Yeah, let’s just fuckin’ go.” He grunts, cigarette still in his mouth.

“You sure you’re okay?” Nathan asks again, walking back to Pickles and taking the microphone off its stand.

“I’m fucking fine. Just go.” He starts playing, hardly giving the two of them time to get ready, and they start up again.

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith never really thought they needed a drummer. He’s firmly convinced that he and Nathan could have been great all on their own, vocals and guitar, and they didn’t need some bigshot from a has-been glam rock band coming in and telling Magnus how to do things. Now Nathan is suggesting they get a bassist, and maybe someone on keyboard, or a second guitarist. Magnus is convinced Pickles is the one giving him these ideas.

“Dude, slow down. Yer goin’ way faster than normal.” Pickles breaks his reverie, and Magnus stops all at once, giving him a venomous look.

“Why don’t you write the fuckin’ songs then if you know so goddamn much?” He asks, a sudden outburst of bitterness that takes both of the other two men by surprise.

“Jesus, calm down. What’s up with you today?” Nathan asks, letting go of the microphone and leaving it in Pickles’ hands.

“Yeah, ya don’t normally act like this…” Pickles gives him a look of concern, and that only pisses Magnus off more.

“I don’t know. I don’t know! Maybe I’m fucking sick of watching you-” he points an accusatory finger at the drummer, “-practically riding his dick all the goddamn time to get your way!”

“Dude, what?” Pickles looks genuinely confused, holding up his hands. “Where’s this comin’ from?”

“You know what the fuck I mean. You fucking flirting with Nathan all the time to change shit about our band!”

“I’m not flirtin’ with anybody. And I’m not tryin’ to change shit! I make suggestions, y’know, like someone in a fuckin’ band.” Pickles’ gaze turns from sympathetic and confused to defensive and angry on a dime.

“Guys, come on-” Nathan starts, stepping between them.

“No, clearly he’s got a fuckin’ problem with me. I wanna hear what it is.” Pickles says, stepping past the vocalist and towards Magnus. “Go on, let’s fuckin’ hear it.” He crosses his arms, challenging the guitarist.

“Oh don’t act so fucking clueless.” Magnus scoffs, setting his guitar aside. “I see the way you hang off of Nathan. Making my songs duets just so you can get close to him, holding his hands to show him your fucking drums, telling him we need more people in the band just to fuel your ego. It’s pathetic.”

“Y’know, not everyone thinks they’re God like you do, Magnus.” Pickles replies, his eyes cold. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m out to get you, but it’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest. I’m not some evil mastermind or whatever the fuck. I’m just a guy in a band, and I’m tryin’ to participate. I never expect my ideas to be fuckin’ accepted without question. The only reason anyone’s suggestions get by is because we all fuckin’ agree on them. And I’m not out here tryin’ to seduce Nate or whatever! Maybe you’re just projectin’ because you’re fuckin’ jealous of me or whatever.” Nathan, face flushed and eyes wide, puts a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Guys, stop it! Nobody’s taking control of the band on their own, and nobody’s trying to fuck anybody! Just calm the fuck down and-!” Nathan is shoved aside by Magnus, who lurches forward to swing at Pickles. The drummer steps back at the last second, looking shocked.

“Oh you’re fuckin’ dead, asshole.” Pickles shoves Nathan back and lunges at Magnus, the two of them grabbing each other’s throats. Magnus easily overpowers him, pinning Pickles to the ground and choking him with one hand, using the other to take the nearly-forgotten cigarette out of his mouth and grind it into the drummer’s arm. Pickles cries out and swings a leg up, kneeing Magnus in the dick and forcing a pained grunt out of Magnus, who lets go of him. The drummer shoves him off, getting on top of him and winding back a fist that Magnus manages to catch, inches from his face.

“I’m so fucking sick of you. Always fuckin’ getting whatever you want. You think you’re fucking better than me?” Magnus growls, using his free hand to take the other man by surprise and punch him directly in the nose. There’s a sickening crunch, and Pickles falls back, eyes watering hard.

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone, douchebag!” Pickles cries, bleary eyes keeping him from seeing as Magnus gets above him again, about to deliver another blow. “Yer the one actin’ like a psycho jealous girlfriend outta nowhere!” The words have hardly finished leaving Pickles’ mouth before Magnus punches him again, this time in the mouth. There’s a splurt of blood against his knuckles, and Magnus feels satisfied somewhere deep down inside. He feels like he’s inflicting pain that’s been earned, causing bloodshed that Pickles has been begging for. He’s about to do it again when strong arms grab him from behind, easily pulling him off of the drummer and holding him still at last.

“GUYS.” Nathan shouts, apparently finally having had enough. He sighs, frustrated, and turns Magnus to face him. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you today? You’re acting crazy.” Pickles sits up behind them, assessing the damage done to his face and spitting blood onto the floor.

“Are you kidding me? You two are all fucking over each other!” Magnus tries to wrench free of Nathan’s grip, to stop those piercing green eyes from looking into him, but it’s no use. “Every time you share a mic you look like you’re about to french each other! I leave the room for two minutes and you’re holding hands and feeling each other up by the drum kit! It’s disgusting!” Nathan’s face reddens at the accusation, but his expression remains stony. He shoves Magnus aside, not bothering to look at him anymore.

“Go the fuck home. You’re done for today.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. Go home, get the stick out of your ass or whatever, and stop acting like a fucking lunatic. You’re just pissing everyone off.” He walks over to Pickles, kneeling down to assess the damage Magnus has done to him. Magnus clenches his jaw.

“Fine. I get it. You two have fun practicing.” He practically spits the words as he grabs his guitar and turns to leave. He can hear their voices faintly as he walks out, every blood cell in his veins feeling like fire.

“...don’t know why he’s acting like this…”

“...s’fine...dealt with diva shit before…”

“...sure you’re okay…?”

“...m’fine, Nate’n…worry too much…”

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith has never once in his life been jealous, especially not now, as he turns back for a moment to see Pickles smiling sheepishly as Nathan holds his face in his hands as if he’s made of glass. Especially not when he sees the way their eyes meet and expressions soften slightly before he turns around. Especially not when he punches a hole in the cheap plaster of the wall in his apartment when he gets home.

#dethklok #metalocalypse #magnus hammersmith #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #magnate #nickles #my writing

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javisjeanjacket · 4 years ago

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can you write hard feelings/loveless with santi pls? thank you x

Hi anon!! thank you so much for requesting our man Santiago! I love writing for him and I hope you enjoy:)

Warnings: mentions of sex

Hard Feelings / Loveless: "It was real for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your chest still beat wildly as your breath shot out of you in stacatooed spurts. You ran a hand through your hair and sighed contentedly. A smile spread across your face and you let your eyes close as the last tremors of your climax washed over you.

Santiago’s chest thumped heartily on the bed beside you, his lips pressed into the bare skin of your shoulder. His arm lay around your waist and his fingers rested on your body so softly you could barely feel them.

You leaned your head over to touch his and kissed his forehead softly. Patting your hand on his forearm you whispered, “Let me up.”

The man shifted in the sheets, moving his arm from around your side.

You swung your legs over the side of his bed and began to search for the pair of underwear Santi had flung somewhere in this direction.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” Santi’s voice carried through the bedroom with a gravity it hadn't held before.

You stopped your search and turned to face him. Your eyebrows pursed and your head slightly cocked to one side. “What? Wear underwear?”

Santi smiled and chuckled low in his throat. The palm of his hand rested on the warm sheets where you laid moments before. “I mean I guess you don’t have to!” A slight red tint overtook the battle-hardened man’s face as he chuckled. “I was talking about leaving so soon. You don’t have to leave.” His big, dark eyes looked up into yours, tempting you silently. Making promises filled with his white hot passion and gentle lips.

Your heart, still thumping from the pleasure he had given you just minutes before, now sat frozen in your chest. You tucked your bottom lip underneath your teeth and found yourself feeling almost weightless in his gaze. Then, like a flash of lightning, your heart came pounding back into your consciousness; Santiago’s expectant eyes and the gnawing in your chest swirling around you with growing intensity.

You jerked your gaze from Santi’s and snatched your missing underwear from off of his floor and began to wiggle them back on. “Santi, I don’t-” You began and just as soon as you did, your thoughts seemed to slip through your grasp.

“This isn’t even like, a real thing. We’re just two people who met at a bar and hook up with each other sometimes. Don’t feel like you have to say that.” You spotted the clasp of your bra peeking out from the side of his bed legs, grabbed it, and you began to fasten it around you. Purposefully, you withheld your gaze from him and braced yourself to hear the usual, ‘Okay, cool.’ or ‘Sweet, sounds good.’ that your Tinder matches and hookups usually gave you when read them the very same lines.

The soldier in bed behind you was silent for a beat too long. His mind frozen, caught in a continuous revolution around the phrase, ‘But it was real for me.’ The words swirled around his mind, echoing and ricocheting wildly. Aching to be set free into the space between you two. When he did speak, he said, “Would you hate it if we were more than just two people who met and now hook up a lot?”

You turned to face him, your shirt and jeans from the night before crinkled in your grasp. The thumping of your heart resounded in your ears, but your mind remained serene. Your eyes caught on the glint of his dog tags in the moonlight. There was no parade of overwhelming joy in your heart at the thought of you and Santiago being together together. No explosion of fireworks or tsunami of emotion. It just felt like perfect balance; like letting out a heavy sigh or like a cool breeze hitting your skin. It was a click into place, a whir to life, two pieces of one. Your throat began to burn and you busied yourself with pulling on your jeans. Realizing you still needed to answer him, you took a deep breath and said, “No, I-”

A pounding on his front door stole the moment from you.

Santiago closed his eyes and groaned. He searched for his boxers on the floor below, pulled them on, and squeezed your arm as he passed you on his way out of the bedroom.

You sighed and rubbed your temples. Now frustrated, you yanked your top back on and went back over to the nightstand to grab your phone and purse. For a fleeting moment, you pictured yourself on the opposite side of this bed, tucking your socks and underwear into one of Santiago’s drawers and hanging your clothes in your half of his closet. You saw yourself cooking breakfast the next morning in his shirt and the blissful smile on his face when you kissed his sleepy, stubbly, face.

With a desperate shake of your head, you dismissed the daydream and followed in Santiago’s footsteps through his house to see him as he was chatting with a very distraught mustachioed man in his living room.

You smiled tersely at the concerned man when his eyes met yours and when you reached the pair of them, you took Santiago by the arm. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek then whispered, “I’ll see you at the bar.”

Santiago smiled and gave your hand a squeeze as you left his side for the front door.

Frankie’s eyes moved from Santi’s to the door you had just left through. “So, this is still a thing?”

Santiago blushed and shook his head. “Come on, man. Let’s not do this now, what were you saying about me babysitting?”

“No, no, no, don’t try and get out of this. You gotta ask her out for real, man.” Frankie pushed Santiago’s bare shoulder.

Santi rolled his eyes and turned back towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

Lorde 'Melodrama' Prompts

#santiago pope garcia x reader #hai writes #lorde prompts #melodrama prompts #santi x reader

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mc-slowwalker · 4 years ago

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MULLET MULLET MULLET YES

philza being 100000 years old is something I can get behind tbh. my least favourite age hc, which I think I actually hate with a burning passion, is the tommy and tubbo were 9 during the first l’manberg wartime actually ignites a visceral rage in me

yeah!! I managed to make it to pink’s bedwars stream the other day and it was great. yeah lol I was lowkey upset too when foolish was added cause I had no idea who he was but he’s super fun so that’s cool! I like high energy stream more too cause I zone out super easily. unless it’s dream, he can stream anything and I’ll try my hardest to pay attention the whole time

ooooh vet that’s cool. oh my god c!dream going into the dentist after months in prison😭😭😭 I’m imagining c!techno as a beefy pig sitting in the kind of small couch/seats we have in the waiting room. Tommy would 100% bite and then get really mad about getting a toy that we give to little kids after their treatment lol

omg the pet wars 😔😔😔 so sad. everyone in the dsmp is emotionally attached to their animals than anything else and what can I say, I’m the same

oh yeah I also tend to take c!dream criticism to heart more idk why. I’m definitely way more defensive of c!dream apologists than any other they get so much unnecessary shit. though from your other anons it looks like c!sam apologists are getting more shit too which sucks but solidarity ig. oh man I get you I have to tell myself to like take a step back and not take everything so personally. another thing on twitter is that people who vehemently hate c!dream will sometimes just refuse to use /dsmp /roleplay tags like it’s not that hard, tweets without that have already been misinterpreted to hate on cc!dream which just pisses me off like you can have your shit opinion just tag it properly. and like when people tell them to include it they’ll be like “ohh the dream apologists harassed me.” and yeah people genuinely go around calling c!dream apologists abuse apologists and it’s terrible. like I don’t care if you have your bad takes and aren’t willing to discuss them, just tag it properly and don’t shit on c!dream apologists it’s not that hard. though it’s funny the other day, the first time I replied to some shut take on twitter, in a lighthearted manner too, I got instantly blocked and there’s this on person on twt, they’re also on tumblr, that blocks anyone that even slightly disagrees with them. oh well ig

also did you see about that lore that foolish did? it was certainly something

sorry for the late and shorter reply I got halfway through writing this then went to do something then just fell asleep and I just got a notification that ponk is live! and I’m awake so Imma go watch them

Jack Mulletfold I’m on my jack manifold mullet truther arc

The 9 year old thing was bad and I also hated the c!dream was 13 during the l’manburg war thing too like no this is all so much funnier if they are the ages that they are now. And like father like son fundy tried to set a timeline up too (his it’s been a year comment) like no dude stop time doesn’t exist unless it’s real world

With watching streams I’m the exact same way but I usually tune into quackity and tommy’s chill streams as well. I think it’s because I know them enough to care about what they’re saying so the lack of mental stimulation is made up for by my want to care

Wait fuck with the dentist thing would c!techno actually have to go to a vet instead because of anatomy stuff or-

C!Dream is probably missing a few teeth and after not brushing so long ugh

I would joke that c!sapnap’s done nothing wrong but I haven’t forgiven him for henry

I simply don’t user twitter I tried to post a shit post but I don’t understand the tagging system so it flopped. Stopped using it there and then. say what you want about me but you guys gotta know that I’m a petty bitch first and foremost. With the “harassment” stuff I’ve had my fair share of sending anons asking people to tag stuff right and half the time they just say why and then don’t do it. You wanna know why? Please thats why. I have a real issue with the abuse apologist stuff because like bro that’s a serious accusation and it’s overall just seems super inappropriate. It usually doesn’t get to me but if I’m in the wrong mood it can really fuck me up. When cc!wilbur said that every character was morally gray and that c!dream apologists were right & wrong about somethings I was kinda like “oh thank god a streamer I like doesn’t hate me for liking c!dream” and was hella embarrassed that I even let it get me that far skdhfk. Oh yeah about people blocking you there are so many people who have me blocked on here and while I totally encourage using your block button liberally and often I still notice and its like aw man… creeper…… so we back in the mines…….

You’re gonna have to be a little more specific I feel lije foolish has done a lot of lore, though I think I’ve missed most of it. Are you talking about truing to break into the prison? Hilarious that every character despite their opinion on c!dream has at one point attempted to break into the prison. If only c!dream knew that the only common enemy the server needed was a building they were supposed to stay out of

dont say sorry that’s illegal (/j) also the thing I like about anon is that you can come back and respond when ever is best for you? Makes me feel like an old western bar tender who is just vibing. That’s the dream social interaction tbh

#anon #ask #long post #ponk tired from the first vaccine #phizer buddies though #also how they promounced ohio is a+ I think we should all pronounce it that way from now on

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madlymiho · 6 years ago

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Hello dear Miho! Happy 600 followers! ❤ Here we go again Hahaha! I would like an scenario about Zoro and his GF who is teasing him a lot (Like she's eating lollipop staring at him with naughty intentions or giving him hot kisses and getting out like nothing happened). And at the end, Zoro doesn't control himself anymore and... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) If doesn't bother you, can you make an Heavy NSFW? THANK U SWEETHEART

Hello there! Aaaah thank you so much, you’re an adorable little bean 💖

Does it bother me to write HEAVY NSFW? Hehehehehehehehehehe *laugh even more evilly* you’ve knocked on the right door, sweetie! Loved the topic, hope you’re going to enjoy this!

Words : 2411

Warning : Heavy NSFW

Zoro scenario : How to tame your teasy girlfriend (read after the cut)

At some point, you would never believe how the New World could be a hot place. It’s been almost two days since the Sunny can’t sail. There’s no wind. Not a single zephyr to blow in the sails and make them move to the next island. The temperature aboard is almost unbearable, and most of the Straw Hat try desperately to cool off with various methods. Sanji, stuck in the kitchen, cooks many fresh meals and drinks to help them all, but the general atmosphere is quite tensed.

“Can you stop doing that?” Zoro snaps, taking a swallow of water from his flask after he reached ten thousand push-ups, far from behind done.

She tilts her head, a playful smirk growing at the corner of her lips, while she shrugs. She’s seated on the floor of the nest, facing him, only wearing a revealing short and the top of her bikini. Her hair is tied with a blurred bun, some of her locks lazily falling around her face, skimming the edge of her neck.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She gently replies, offering him a genuine smile.

Zoro sighs as he sits on the floor, retracting his legs against his chest to start a session of abs exercise. Despite the heatwave outside, he’s always ready to work out almost compulsively. His bare torso is covering with sweat, and for a moment, she freezes and imagines her tongue running on his warm and salty skin, until he becomes a mess under her ministrations. Nevertheless, for the moment, she simply takes a long lap on her frozen lollipop instead, making sure that her green-haired boyfriend doesn’t miss a single movement. Zoro clicks his tongue, and looks away, dedicated to his sport session rather than her silly game. He doesn’t know what she’s planning to do, yet, she slightly starts to get under his skin acting like this while she’s almost wearing nothing.

“Ah, crap!” She suddenly hisses, bringing Zoro back to the reality.

He’s about to tell her to find something better to do than bother him, but as he turns his head, he notices that her ice-cream has dripped all over her neck, her fingers, but also her lovely breasts. She tries her best to clean her mess, but the drop of the sweet cream is plastered almost everywhere on her torso. She flicks her finger, trailing an inviting road on her round and feminine area, bringing back her digit to her mouth to suck on it, before she releases it with a wet and loud “pop”. She suddenly notices that Zoro isn’t moving anymore, his hungry stare following her every gesture, sometimes wandering on the mess she created a few seconds ago. She innocently smiles, her teasing features setting ablaze his tanned cheeks, frustrating him more than she would believe.

“Get cleaned.” Zoro mumbles, looking back at the wall in front of him as if it has all the answers of the universe, before he puts his body back at work.

“You’re so grumpy today…,” she teases, taking another lap from her frozen and colorful lollipop, the naughty sound irritating her boyfriend’s ears.

“I’m busy, idiot. What don’t you go back with the girls and do whatever girls do when they feel hot?”

Zoro closes his eyes as soon as he finishes his sentence, understanding excessively late the double meaning of what he has just said. He hears a mocking chuckle beside him, and before he can move his body to tense his muscled belly, her fingers are already skimming his nape, her warm breath teasing his earlobe. Her burning mouth presses a soft kiss beneath his ear, and for a moment, he can’t help but enjoy her sweet presence and the way she desperately tries to manipulate him. But since he’s not entirely receptive, she sighs loudly and starts to get up and ready to leave. It’s not interesting when he doesn’t want to play with her.

“Alright, I’m going for a drink at Sanji’s.” She simply informs him, already on her way out, but it’s enough to tickle his possessiveness and the fact that he wants her to fool around here.

Zoro growls, immediately jumping back on his feet to catch her wrist and pulls her almost violently against his chest. She gasps, surprised by this sudden turnaround, both of their skin plastered against each other. Zoro stares at her with both anger and passion, his hands pressed against her back to hold her close. She tilts her head, a few strands of her hair tickling the crook of her neck while she patiently waits for him to eventually spit whatever he needs to spit.

“Really, Sanji?” Zoro snarls, his possessive fingers falling down on her spin to grope her rear and squeeze it aggressively.

“At least, he’s always willing to give me some attention,” she teases with a long whisper, slightly coming closer under the pressure of his digits.

She perfectly sees this spark of jealousy blooming inside his only iris, gazing at her as if he dares her to say another word. She knows how it’s easy to fluster him when she talks about Sanji. Zoro hates whenever the Cook of the Straw Hat tries to get along with her. He knows that he can trust her, but his inner instincts are always deeply shattered when she smiles at another man than him.

“You better not leave now, Name.” Zoro threats, his voice slightly lower than usual, almost broken.

It has that infinite power to make her quiver on her legs, her throat dry as she drowns herself into his stare.

“Make me stay, then…,” she only manages to whisper, giving Zoro all the power and domination he was looking for until now.

Without any hesitation, he grips her hips strongly, walking rapidly until her back hits the first wall it would encounter. She lets lose a gasp, but soon enough, his lips are sealed on hers, devouring her sweet flesh with a hungry and messy kiss. Their teeth clench almost violently, Zoro forcing his tongue inside her mouth to swallow her every moan. Her fingers are immediately searching for something to touch, brushing his bare chest while she perfectly feels the goosebumps running under her digits. Zoro slams her back a bit more against the wall, his hard crotch strongly pressed against her core. She hums in approbation, and opens her eyes when Zoro abandons her lips to skim her neck, his tongue licking the remaining of her ice cream. Her head falls backwards, her hands already grasping his green hair, the burning breathing of his mouth dangerously close to her breasts. Hungrily, Zoro starts to lick her skin, his fingers digging inside her hips to firmly maintain her right where she is.

“You taste good,” he growls against her flesh, moving aside her bra to release one of her boob. “You’re such a messy girl…”

Before she can answer, Zoro pinches his lips on her nipple, his teeth gently nipping the soft and tender circle, pulling on it without any harm. She immediately arches her back, desperately trying to control her pleasure, even if Zoro has always been quite talented when it comes to pleasure her with his mouth. His thousand hours of training with a katana trapped between his lips have given him an improbable skill to ravish her body and make her lose her mind. Slightly impatient now, Zoro suddenly pulls on the top of her bikini, ripping it off to throw it on the floor. He’s hornier than before, his second hand finding its way to her other breast, massaging it shamelessly. He takes his time to let his tongue travel on her bare chest, enjoying the sweet smell of vanilla and fruits delightfully spread on her skin, the many scents of the ice cream tickling his senses. She pinches her lips together, her fingernails scratching the top of his head while he suddenly bites and sucks on her sensitive area, until she lets lose a powerful and desperate cry.

“Stop teasing!” She snaps impatiently, her eyes begging for something else.

Zoro smirks, his face coming up to overlook her, his thumb skimming her bottom lip as he grins at her.

“You are the one who started this, silly. And now you want me to rush things?”

As an answer, she impatiently rolls her eyes and catches his wrist to pull it down, directly inside her short. Zoro’s grin grows bigger, such as the bulge underneath his pants. He doesn’t need to check for too long; she’s terribly wet down there. He wishes that he could tease her for hours since she can’t stop playing with his nerves, but Zoro knows that she’s right. He wants her as much she wants him, and there’s no point to waste any more time.

“You gotta have what you’re looking for, silly girl.” He snarls, pushing one finger inside of her warm and damp core, pulling down her shot and her panties with some messy and impatient gestures.

She quivers from her head to her toes, pressing on his wrist to make him continue, bouncing on her legs to get rid of her useless clothes. Zoro has always been that way with her; a dominant and raw animal ready to make her come with strong and heavy gestures, ignoring the many clothes he has already ripped to fuck her properly. Quickly, she manages to help him getting free from his pants as well, his large and hard arousal bumping proudly against his lower abdomen. Zoro breathes loudly, and before she eventually touches his length, he spins her rapidly and plasters her belly against the cool wall, ignoring her surprised gasp and the violence of his gesture. His finger abandons her wet core, immediately replaced by the head of his arousal, his sweating body all pressed against her back.

“Up on your toes.” Zoro commands, his fingers slapping her butt to make her obeys quicker.

When she’s finally ready, he pushes his hips forwards, all of his manhood disappearing in one and hard thrust inside of her. Zoro closes his eyes, his teeth biting her nape, drips of saliva mixed with the sweat of her skin rolling down her spine. With this position, he feels strongly squeezed by her inner walls, and for a moment, he desperately fight the need to cum with a single motion. However, since she gently teases him by arching her back and move her hips with slow rounds, he immediately lectures her impatience by a strong and powerful thrust movement, slamming her body back against the wall. He clenches his fist on her hip, his tongue teasing her earlobe, while he starts to take a steady pace, never letting her the opportunity to catch her breath. He feels his entire body setting on fire, one of his hand cupping her waist so intensely that he’s absolutely certain to leave some marks on her delicate skin. His other hand skirts her abdomen, getting lower to find its place back against her swollen clit, ignoring the long and needy shiver travelling through her entire body.

“You’re so wet…,” Zoro groans with a husky voice, a long breath escaping from his throat to tickle the back of her neck. “You wanted this so much, right?”

She moans loudly to answer him, as his fingers are now circling her sensitive and exposed nub with all his best intensity and movements.

“You’re such an impetuous girl when you want me, and look at you now,” Zoro continues, his fingers increasing their pace as long as his hips. “You can’t even speak…”

“Zoro…,” she begs loudly, her head falling back on his chest.

He grins, feeling the weight on his power, from the top of his thrusting length, to his unbearable fingers torturing her body. She’s under his mercy, unable to move, only there to take what he gives, and suffer from her previous insolence. He loves that kind of session, when she’s nothing but a crying girl, her everlasting little teasing game suddenly forgotten in her uncontrollable and primitive pleasure. He feels that her legs are shaking now that he increases his pace, the room full of lusty noises, his balls and his skin slapping strongly against her body. Drops of sweat lazily roll on her spine, and for a moment, Zoro contemplates her arched back and the way he disappears inside of her, while she takes him so bravely. The sight creates a heatwave in his lower abdomen, and since he’s close to reach his end, too excited by the situation, he immediately presses his fingers hard on her nub, until she cries loudly, her head leaning back on her shoulders, before she presses her forehead against the wall.

“Let it go…” Zoro encourages with his heavy tone, slamming hard his hips to the point that he feels that she could break under his touch.

And then, he feels it. The sweet shiver hitting hard her entire body. She moves erratically her hips to escort his ministrations, unable to contain her pleasure anymore while she growls desperately, sensitive enough to collapse right there on the ground. She’s suddenly nothing but tight, and Zoro can’t help but pinch his lips together, far from having the control on his own pleasure now. He grabs her hips to get a better position, and with a few strong and restless pounds, he eventually reaches his own end, moaning hard against her ears. He rides his orgasm out, letting her getting back on the ground, her body nothing but a pure mess. Remains of ice cream, but also spit and sweat covering her back, her arms and belly. Zoro can’t help but smile, proud of his own creation. He helps her spin on her hips, ignoring the fact that they are both disgusting at the moment, dragging her against his chest. He feels terribly hot, but he doesn’t want to let her go, enjoying her presence while she’s finally tamed. At least for a short moment.

“You stink…” She mumbles against his skin, wriggling her body to escape his grip and catch some fresh air.

Zoro sighs, rolls his eyes, yet, he smiles, and traps her even harder against his torso.

“You don’t smell like a flower as well, you know that, idiot?”

“Argh let me go, Zorooo!” She yells, causing him to burst into a genuine laugh.

“Stop moving like a damn fish, Name! Alright, shower now.”

#one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #roronoa zoro #zoro one piece #zoro x reader #one piece scenarios #one piece imagine #one piece hc #one piece hcs #one piece #lemon #not suitable #thelazygaby

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kill-for-cookies · 5 years ago

Text

Washing Dishes

Dhawan!Master x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: you’re tired. You need to stay at home for a while, do the usual things. For example, washing dishes. Yes, that sounds good. But something goes wrong...

Words: 2178

Warning: smut, a little angst and dom/sub

Note: I wrote this fic for 3 days ‘cause English is foreign language for me, but I really like writing it. If you want to send me some ideas for fics I’ll be grateful. Hope, you enjoy it.

You missed it. Really. Surely, You like travelling with Doctor despite the fact you can be killed. But that was nothing compared to all time and space you have seen and will see. Well, at least, you can accept the risks.

However, sometimes you want to just return to normal life. Yes, It's kinda boring and repetitive, but you need it like air to breathe. That's why you were in living room at your flat talking with your best friend Nat. Of course you couldn't tell her about your adventures with the Fam, but that wasn't not your first time to modify truth about where you've been.

"So, I gotta go. You just got home, Y/N. You need some rest." Nat told you giving an empty cup of tea to your outstretched hand.

"Oh, come on, Nat. I'm not even tired." you complained. But deep down you know that was truth. You wanted to be alone in peace and quiet and you was grateful to her.

Nat rolled her eyes in annoyance like always she does when you are stubborn. Your friend wasn't going to tell you anything because that wasn't necessary. She stood up slowly and hold your hands.

"See you tomorrow."

"Thanks for your help with washing the dishes." you said ironically and a little dramatically. And both of you burst out laughing.

"Sure you can handle it." Nat winked.

You said goodbye to each other. Nat closed the front door, leaving a small crack. In this time you turned tap and set to work.

You can't say you didn't like do chores. At least without disgust. But at this time you enjoyed it. The noise of the water calmed your wild head full of annoying thoughts and you were humming a song. Barely hearing creak of the door you were focused on your work. You thought that was Nat forgetting something in your living room (she does that often than anyone can ever imagine).

You had only one plate to wash when something slid down your waist. That was hand. A male hand. You don't have a boyfriend and all your nearest neighbours were girls. There was only one man who knows your address. You froze in place hoping it was just a bad dream. The plate slipped out of your hands and fell into the sink with a loud rumble. A small piece broke off and scratched the inside of your hand.

"I'm glad to see you too, love" you could feel his smirk at your ear.

This. Fucking. Bastard. Really? Why did he come right on the day you returned home? You never thought you can hate someone so much.

You first met the Master when he was prime minister. Actually You've been encountering with him as much as the Doctor since the Time War. Well, almost as much. You missed maybe two times.

If you say that your relationship with the Master was difficult, it is nothing to say. One moment you are trying to kill yourselves, the next you are ready to lunge at each other kissing fiercely and passionately. But it doesn't mean you're in love with him, right? You and the Master were just lovers and nothing more. And you'll never betray the Doctor for the Master.

"What are you doing here?"

"Decided to check up my favorite human."

"Stop it" you said quietly but firmly.

"Stop what?" his eyes widened.

"You really think I would believe you? You never did it and sure you wouldn't" you didn't even try to hide your sarcasm.

"Don't act like you know me. I really missed you" he murmured into your ear.

"Well, I don't. So when we've figured it out go away" a low growl escaped from your throat.

"Oh, never thought you can be so furious. You're just like me" he was mocking you.

"I'm nothing like you" you spat out last word.

"Aren't you?" in one simple movement he turned you over to face him. The Master leaned toward you so that you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. "Do you really think so? Tell me, Y/N. Doctor isn't here. You can tell me everything you want to."

You felt knife was right at your throat. Seriously? How could he take a knife almost out of your nose without being seen? Oh, yes, he's the Master. You had to wipe the dishes and put it back, then wash the rest. But, no, you did the opposite. You blamed yourself. But you wasn't the one who was easy to scare. Plus you met the Master so many times... And so often it ended more than just threatening your life. You stayed stubbornly silent looking straight in his brown hypnotic eyes.

"Come on, Y/N. Will you continue to be stubborn? Don't make me do it" something glittered in his eyes.

"Do what?" contempt flowed from you like a river.

"Depends on you..." as much as he annoyed you, he looked so damn attractive. And you admit it.

'Fine, I will play in your game' you thought hoping he's not in your mind right now.

You fiercely kissed him. The knife a little wounded your throat and blood started to flow down your neck, but you didn't pay attention. God, who knew you missed him so much?

"Mmm, you lied to me. Maybe I should punish you? What did you think?" the knife was left the second he asked the question. His lips covered yours when you tried to say something. Well, apparently that was a rhetorical one.

Pulling away, you leaned even closer to the sink. No matter how much you liked this situation, you still felt uncomfortable being in his company. He's the Master. One of the most important disaster of the Universe. The one who destroyed Gallifrey, his home planet. The one who has always achieved his goal. And now his prey goal was you. That's what made you fell uncomfortable. You weren't afraid of him, but you had awe.

His eyes dropped below your lips. He must just noticed the cut on your neck. The Master slowly licked his lips before leaning over and licking the blood from your neck. Shit, he probably knew that was your weak spot. You couldn't hold back a loud moan, which caused the Master to chuckle. With each touch of his tongue, you melted more and more, your knuckles turned pale from your tight grip on the sink. Your legs are beginning to give way a little, but they haven't betrayed you yet. Although you felt a little wet from below.

"Say it" his voice was full of lust, but still domineering. Of course, how could it be otherwise?

"Say... wha-ah-at?" you barely managed to ask, trying to hold back your moans.

"Say my name" - silence. You decided to just ignore it. You didn't want to give him more power than he had. Although in this situation you could do almost anything he asked. And he knew it. Apparently that's why he asked you to do this.

You didn’t notice his free hand slid down to your jeans, quickly zipped it and crawled under your boxers. His thumb found the clit and began drawing circles on it. You couldn't stand it shouting:

"Master! Please... " oh, how you hated yourself for that. He barely touched you and you were already his.

"Please what?" a smug grin spread across his face. He knew exactly what you were talking about. But he wanted to hear it from you. He was so irritated by your morality and decency, each time trying to destroy these qualities in you. Making you choose who lives and who doesn't. Or putting you in situations like this.

The fingers of his other hand started tapping on your back as soon as they found their way under your shirt.

"Just do it" your voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid you need to be more specific" he leaned close to your ear so your chests were almost touching. "Because I can do a lot with you."

"Do you want me to say it out loud? Is it necessary?"

"Oh, Yes. That would be great. Or else..." He was still a few inches away from you, though the fingers of his hands had stopped moving, making you whimper. Those hands were driving you crazy. They always did, no matter what the regeneration was. It doesn't matter what they did to you. Hands burning cities, destroying planets, blowing up galaxies. Of course, he saw it in your mind and knew it. Bastard.

"Just push me on the table and fuck me" you would regret this very much. But that would come later. Now you were dying without it.

"The magic word?" he whispered in your ear. You could feel his grin. He teased you and it made you want him. Your underwear was soaking wet. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other to ease the tension at the bottom.

"Please?" you knew exactly what he wanted you to say. But you still had a little self-control and that’s why you refused to say it a second time.

"Try again" he broke into a cheshire grin. You've already played with each other. The question was “Who will prevail”. It was obvious to you two, though. But for you, the process itself was more important than the victory.

"Master" you sighed. By this time, you had calmed down and were able to control yourself a little.

"That's my girl" well, now you've lost control, which was hard for you to regain.

His lips fell greedily on yours as like he would die without you. As you without his. He quickly led you away from the sink, took you to the table ripping your clothes and underpants to shreds and pushed you hard on it. Not to say you didn't feel any pain from the push but you didn't complain. From the Master you shouldn’t expect tenderness in such situation. You knew that.

He climbed up on the table, hovering over you. He held your wrists above your head with one hand, while the other slid slowly over your wet inner thigh. But he was still fully dressed which of course you didn't like.

"That's not fai... " before you could finish, his finger shoved up inside of you. You cried out in pain and pleasure that flowed from your core all over your body.

"Don't make me angry" he growled right in your face.

"Or what?"

He added two fingers at once and twisted them. God, it hurt so much, but your desire was stronger.

"Master.." he always did everything he could to make you shout and moan. You were driven mad by his hands and he - by your moans. He started pumping you up by pulling out and in his fingers into you.

"That's it. Remember you are mine."

"Only in your dreams..." you said it when you got a little used to his pushes.

The hand which pressed your hands to the table moved to your throat and held it tight.

"Judging from your screams I wouldn't be so sure" despite the strangling grip he said it in the sweetest voice you've ever heard from him.

From suffocation all the sensations increased several times and you are almost come. He decided to speed up the process so he left a trail of kisses on your neck sucking you. Leaving your own tags. Marking you as his. It was enough for you to go over the edge just like him. Taking his hand from your neck, he wrapped it around your cheek and gently kissed it.

"You look so good under me" he stood up, straightened his suit, and left you lying on the table. "Oh, and thank you for your help" he winked.

"What?" you sat up and blinked quickly, uncomprehending.

"Come on, Y/N. Keep up. You're not so stupid like other Doctor's pets" he slowly approached to you without taking eyes off you.

"What did you do to her?" you leaned to him so there were a couple of inches between you.

"Well, not yet. But now she'll walk into trap. You were the only one who could help her"

"But I can stop you..." a low growl escaped from your throat.

"And how?" he looked at your hands and smiled broadly. Your eyes followed his and saw some bracelets on your wrists. Handcuffs. Really? "Handcuffs will not allow you to leave flat. And I don't need to stay here anymore. I had enough fun with you" shit, you let your feelings out and now the Doctor is in danger. You looked away. He didn't like it, so the Master grabbed your chin, pulled you into another kiss, bitting your lip.

"Until next time" he winked and left.

You heard the sound of the TARDIS disappearing from your room. Bastard. But damn it, you would lie to yourself if you said you didn't like it... Maybe you should wash the dishes more often?

#doctor who #the master x reader #the master #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #dw #smut

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ajokeformur-ray · 5 years ago

Note

Women only want one thing and it's for Carnival to hug them gently from behind with a content sigh and a snuggle

This is so convenient an ask because I know someone very dear to me who less than five minutes ago asked me for Carnival cuddles ( @rebs-doom )! So I’ve made it into an impromptu piece of writing, I hope you don’t mind! The world would be a happier place if everyone had their own Carnival to spin signs and make paper flowers come out of wands.

Be proud of me, darlings - I somehow managed to not swear in this one!!!! First time ever sksksksk I have such a filthy mouth when it comes to swearing in real life that in writing it just seeps out lmaooooo.

Word count: 1, 910 (I keep you all so well fed lmao I usually go to bed with cramps in my fingers sksksksk)

Arthur came home from work still dressed from head to toe as Carnival; the green wig with the little bowler hat, the checkered blazer and the yellow waistcoat, the greasepaint which had started to flake and thin in places so that Arthur’s natural skin tone was beginning to show through, the bright red nose which made a noise when it was pressed, and those shoes - you had told Arthur so many times to change out of his clown shoes when he left for work because they hurt his feet. Instead, he walked around Gotham holding his usual oxfords in one hand and his bag in the other.

His total disregard for his own comfort and safety, especially in the streets of Gotham, drove you mad, but what could you do? Arthur was a grown man who was more than capable of making his own decisions, and so you left him to it most of the time. You knew that he understood your point of view and that he listened to you, but there was something about coming home in his entire work outfit that did it for Arthur. You didn’t know what the something was or what goal he was trying to achieve by coming home as Carnival - perhaps the bright colours he wore were kept on his worn body to cheer him up, to give him something to pay attention to on the long and expensive way home - but you would support his every decision, even if you didn’t necessarily understand or agree with it. Goodness knew that you did things that seemed utterly illogical to Arthur; still, what was a relationship without minor flaws, a couple without their own strange ways despite the alternatives offered by the other? Your relationship was painfully unique and as such, you treasured every good and bad thing about it.

You were sat on the sofa working on some papers; you loathed having to bring your daily responsibilities into your very time limited evenings with Arthur, but needs must. It was something that you knew Arthur would understand; he, too, often couldn’t escape the daily grind once it had hit that certain point in the evening where you set all work aside and just relaxed before bed time. Your head shot up as the front door opened and closed and you sprang up off the sofa, fighting away the dizziness you felt from standing up too fast.

“Arthur!” A happy exclamation of his name greeting him at the door always put a smile on his face, and you were met with Carnival. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly happy within his work disguise did Arthur stay in character. It either meant that being his normal self was just too painful at that given moment, or that he just wanted to be Carnival for a little longer just because he could. You didn’t mind. You loved Carnival the clown; you had stopped in the street one day when he had been spinning a sign for a shop that was closing down soon, and his performance had captivated you into silent activity. You owed your relationship to Carnival and you were very fond of him because of it.

With a comically wide smile did Carnival set down his keys and his bag before padding with exaggerated steps towards you. You grinned easily, the feeling of childlike innocence radiating off your love in warm waves, and flung your arms around his neck by way of saying hello. You had spoken his name in greeting, this was true, but even Carnival appreciated actions over words; he spoke little, focusing more on the way that he made other people feel, and with you was this no exception. You pressed kiss after kiss to one spot on his cheek, Carnival’s hands splayed out at his sides. He was frozen in the face of your ferocious attack of love on his person and you giggled against his painted skin before you released him entirely and almost danced into the kitchen; so happy were you that he was home.

“Are you hungry?” You ignored whatever Carnival did to say yes or no, which was just as well because he was leaning in the doorway, one arm propped up at the level of his eyes, the other on his hips, and the opposite leg to the side of the arm on the door frame was crossed over at the ankle. He just watched you reheat his dinner with the softest, kindest look on his face. If you had seen the way he was looking at you, you would have burst into happy tears. You had made something simple for dinner, not wanting to go too overboard because, well, you didn’t want to be stuck with multiple pots, pans and utensils to wash up for just one meal. You hated cleaning with a passion, especially when you had a full stomach and therefore the only thing you wanted to do was to crawl onto the nearest available surface and sleep it off in a food coma; one of life’s simple pleasures which you really didn’t experience enough of.

As you set about plating up Arthur’s dinner did a shadow come over your shoulder, darkening the area you were working on. A heavy weight dropped onto that same shoulder and arms snaked around your waist. There was a happy sigh, a gentle kiss placed to your neck, and you felt Carnival snuggling up so close to your back that you could feel all of him pressed against you. You tipped your head back, resting your own head on Carnival’s shoulder, and stood there together did you take a minute to just… be.

“I missed you today.” Your voice was a little above a whisper, as if you were afraid of breaking the tranquillity of the moment by speaking too loudly. You could hear a question in Carnival’s silence, so well did you know him, and you smiled up at the ceiling, your eyes blissfully closed. “Yes, really. I always miss you.” The arms tightened around your waist and he pressed himself even closer to you. Arthur was in a cuddling mood, then. “How are your feet?” You turned, shattering the moment, and Carnival pouted as you turned to face him. “No, none of that. You gotta eat and you gotta get your shoes off. Don’t think I don’t see those blisters when you take them off.” Carnival huffed by way of expressing displeasure but the smile tugging at the corners of his painted lined lips betrayed his truth. He always gave himself away. You knew him far too well. “Go on. Shoes then food.” You paused, caught the pleading look in Carnival’s green eyes, and then said, “and then we can cuddle as much as you want. Sound good, sweetheart?”

Carnival nodded so enthusiastically that he looked like a puppy and you giggled as he turned and almost ran from the kitchen, skidding around the corner. The bathroom door slammed shut and you allowed yourself to truly laugh, knowing all the while that he could hear you. Knowing him as well as you did, you could easily visualise Carnival with his back pressed to the bathroom door, a shaking hand over his pounding heart as he listened to your laughter echoing off the paper thin walls with his eyes closed, a sweet smile on his face.

Some time later, when Carnival’s shoes were off - you had heard the relieved groan coming out of the bathroom from where you were in the kitchen and fondly had you shaken your head at the way Arthur continued to torture himself in the name of bringing happiness to others - and he had eaten, his face bare and his body dressed only in black trousers, were you on the sofa. He hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet but you had heard shuffling, like he was dancing by himself or perhaps practising. You had always been his favourite audience and often did you grace him wordlessly with your undivided attention. The door cracked open and Carnival peeked his head out, looking left and right before coming out and shutting the door behind him. He walked slowly forward with a slight spring in his step and a hand behind his back and you grinned. Arthur was still Carnival in this moment and you knew this because of the red clown nose on his face. When it came off would Arthur come home to you.

In the meantime, however, Carnival was going to put on a show for you.

With some complicated but fluid dance steps did Carnival present you with paper flowers out of a wand with a dramatic flourish and a low bow and you had laughed easily at the small noises and smiles that had lightened up his face; he was just so pretty that it made you breathless and stunned into stillness. In the moments in which he smiled did it seem as though the world could burn around you, everything you had ever known razed to the very ground and yet you would still be entranced by your enigmatic lover who stepped into different roles and characters as part of his work; which was his entire life. Arthur lived for other people, having long ago given up on himself. You were the last thing he had left in this horrible world and he was going to hold onto you as surely as Carnival was holding onto those paper flowers.

“Thank you, darling,” You took the flowers with a smile and beckoned Carnival forward with a crooked finger. He stood up straight, came forward with exaggerated steps even without the aid of those shoes which were at least four sizes too big, and bent down at the waist. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss; you weren’t gentle, putting every inch of your happiness, joy and love into it. He made some kind of squeak against your lips and you pulled away to laugh. The noise which he had been seeking this entire time made Carnival grin, his pupils dilated, and he reached up slowly to pull the nose off his face.

You loved Carnival but nothing filled you with more happiness or gave you more of a reason to smile than knowing that Arthur was home.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You smiled softly and used your grip on Arthur to pull him down on top of you. It took a lot of fidgeting and shifting but soon enough were you cuddled together on the sofa; Arthur on top of you so that he could listen to your heartbeat, your arms acting as a shield against the harshness of reality. There was no sadness, fear, anger or trepidation within the cosy flat, within your home. You spent the few precious hours you had together cuddled within each other’s arms. There was no need to speak; your love was so vivid, so obvious and so tangible that it felt like a third entity in the living room. It kept the two of you company when you couldn’t be together, lending strength and comfort in times of need, and it shined brightly when you were together, filling the cracks within your souls which were unavoidable as you struggled against yourselves and the world.

So long as you had each other to come home to every night, why, you both had the world.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes @onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman @joker-is-my-hero @lazyloosah @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna @live-love-loki @clownerybbxx @tragicarthur @anmach123 @rommie-chan @arthurflock @lucyboytom @anti-peach @ immortal-bi-bitch @hearthurfleck @crazieroutthere @curlystark @hailmary-yramliah @sagyunaro @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain @jokeringcutio @xenthefox @mijachula @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @cheyennejonas22 @mrjfleck @pauli1100 @smitten-susie @actualkey @callmejokerfleck @jaylovesbats @itsforyoubitch @ridiculousnerd @killerprotector3579 @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @fantasticwinnerclodexpert @arthurs-sweater @pinkie44pie @tsukiakarinobara @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess @darkvampiplier @yours-mia @rustyt33th @parkdonghoons

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years ago

Text

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 8/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: Please be aware that this chapter discusses professor/student relations in the past, non-consensual pictures in the past, and some present, consensual, loving, and happy sexual relations. Gotta find a balance somehow. (This chapter also nicknamed "The One where Sarah calls out a shitty storyline from FRIENDS.)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 8: Unearthed

It takes time, but they both manage to get out some of the difficult parts of their pasts. Emma tells Killian snippets of her former relationships, including why she ran from Henry the first time she saw him. Graham’s story is kept brief, Walsh is brushed off as a bad experience. Killian is patient about it, holding her hand and listening closely. She can see the questions forming behind his eyes, but he never pushes for more info than she’s willing to share.

He’s hiding bits of his own past, too. He’s very open about the accident that took his hand, how he grew up in Liam’s shadow but preferred it that way, and his strong passions for fiction and poetry. But when it comes to information about his time in university, she sees the way his shoulders tense. There’s a lack of enthusiasm when he speaks of his master’s studies. She’s seen the picture of him at graduation that sits in his office. She knows there’s more to the story.

They’re watching television one night, background noise as he works on some edits. With the money they got for upgrades, Emma purchased a shiny new laptop, one specifically loaded with the software to digitize the town’s records, and so they work on their own stuff together.

Something on the screen that neither of them are glued to must catch his attention, however. It’s a rerun, something that used to be popular but has now reached syndication and thus plays on every channel when there’s downtime. It’s something Emma’s seen enough times that she knows the general storyline without really even paying attention. It’s the one where a professor starts a relationship with a student.

While she’s mostly tuning it out, it seems Killian is finally tuning in, and she looks up as he lurches for her television remote and hits the power button. His breathing is visibly quicker than it should be. Even when the screen goes dark, there’s a tension around his eyes she has never seen before.

“You okay?” she asks, mostly because she’s not sure he remembers she’s there right now.

He shakes himself a little bit, brushing off the moment for all she can tell, before he turns to her. “Hate this show,” he responds.

“It’s been on for the last hour.”

As he focuses on her face, she can see the moment he sheds whatever was trying to creep up on him. “I was pretty deep in my work. I do apologize, love.” He’s lying, but she’s willing to let it go if it’s something from his past that he doesn’t want to talk about.

“Hey, no worries.” She reaches out, squeezing his bicep once for comfort. “You want coffee? Tea?”

“I’ll get it. What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she says, knowing that he’ll bring back the hot chocolate he knows she loves.

By the time he returns, the tightness on his face has eased up a bit, but it’s replaced with something she would call contemplation. “Swan, I want to tell you a little piece of my past, but I hope you won’t judge me too hard or let it change the way you feel about me.”

“A little ominous, but okay. Go for it.”

“Back in university, I was involved with one of my professors.”

Emma takes a moment to let it absorb, trying not to flinch or let her facial expressions change at all. It’s his past, and she knows just as well that those moments shouldn’t define the current moment.

“Tell me about it?”

“As you know, Liam convinced me to enroll in university as a way to pull me out of my slump after I lost my hand. He helped find out if I could take my classes online since I wasn’t ready to go out into the world.”

Emma reaches over, closing her fingers over the hook attachment he has on today. It’s become second nature, but sometimes she wants to tell him without words that she accepts him for who he is and this is one of those moments.

“Eventually, I was comfortable going to classes on campus. I was engrossed in all things to do with writing and literature and editing, and knew that’s the direction I wanted to take. And then I met Milah, one of the professors for a professional writing class. And she was just that for a while, and then when I entered into my master’s studies, we sort of…crossed the boundaries when she was helping me with a project.”

“Milah was married, is married, though they are separated. Her husband, some wealthy bastard, agreed that if she was discreet that they could see other people. He wasn’t anticipating that she would take up with a student, former or otherwise.

“What did he do?”

“Threatened to expose the affair to the university. Milah would’ve been fired. I would’ve likely been expelled. He said he would divorce her and cut her off from his wealth. He only agreed to back off when Milah and I split and I filed to finish my master’s online, much as I began the whole journey.”

“Was the money that important to her?” It’s the question that hits; she can tell immediately.

He grimaces before answering. “She liked to pretend it wasn’t. Painted herself as a free spirit that didn’t need wealth. But it didn’t stop her from walking away from me like it meant nothing.”

Without even prodding, Emma can see that the story isn’t done. She adjusts her grip on him and waits for him to continue.

“I almost didn’t finish my degree after that. I started drinking heavily every chance I got. Took Liam a couple weeks to figure out what was going on, pried out what had happened, and then intervened. He’s the only reason I still completed my coursework.”

“He sounds like a good brother.”

“Right pain in the arse, but yes, he is.”

“You really loved her?”

“Aye. She’s the only person outside my own family that I ever professed my love for.” He’s quiet for a moment before meeting her eyes once more. “Have you ever been in love, Swan?”

“Maybe I thought I was, once,” she admits. Mostly, she realizes that the feelings she thought she had for Neal and the ones she told Walsh she had were nothing compared to the way Killian makes her feel. “Thanks for sharing all of this with me.”

“I figured you should know,” he tells her, simple as that.

When Friday rolls around, she’s all set to join her boyfriend and friends in public. Normally, Emma would be one of the first to ditch out on work and get to their usual spot in the bar, but tonight she’s working with Belle to relabel and organize their filing system. Previously, their idea of “orderly” bordered on chaos, and they had trouble keeping track of just about everything. Along with the digital system, they decided to reconfigure the physical records as well.

They’re in the process of fixing the system when Emma’s email account dings, and she glances at it briefly to make sure it’s nothing important before they get back to work.

What she finds, instead, is a message with a link to a website. Normally, she would write this off as a spam account, but there’s no fill-in-the-blank recipient. There’s no lead-up to the message at all. Just the words written below a link: You’ll have to trust me. Type in code 92574. Check Maine.

With a heavy amount of trepidation, Emma clicks the link and follows the instructions. Her brows furrow as she tries to process what she’s looking at, but it appears to be some kind of personal page, with links to the fifty states. Finding Maine in the list, she clicks it, and almost immediately drops her phone as if burned.

“Oh my fucking god,” she mutters, her vision blurring around the edges.

“Emma is - oh! Oh my goodness!” Belle immediately backs away from the glance she’s just stolen at Emma’s unlocked phone on her desk, looking back at Emma with horror and surprise in her eyes. “What…. What is all that?”

“Something I was told was destroyed a long time ago,” Emma says, her voice shaking and her body feeling heavy and weak all at once. “Can you drive stick?” Her phone finally goes dark and auto-locks, and she’s honestly not sure if she can feel her face right now.

“I’ll text Will and let him know we’re on our way.”

-x- December 13: Friday

The last few weeks since Thanksgiving have been some of the best in Killian’s life. While the project of Henry’s novella is speeding up in momentum and racing towards the end, he and Emma have been taking things at their own pace and enjoying every moment together that they can.

It’s getting easier for them to talk about their pasts. From their shared lack of parentage to finally breaking the barrier of previous relationships, he knows they’ve both made great strides. Being able to tell her about Milah and not have her go running for the hills was admittedly a huge relief, and he only hopes that she’ll trust him to open up about anything she’s still holding out.

Normally, when they go out on Fridays, Emma is right by his side when he enters the bar. While Emma is working with Belle, he and Will have gone to the bar early to have their own catch-up until everyone else arrives.

They each spend a fair amount of time grousing about work, about late nights and tired eyes and how much they love their jobs despite their words. And they also spend just as much time talking about the women in their lives. He’s happy to see Will as content as he is. He also knows that, despite the strange and often passive-aggressive friendship between the two of them, Will is happy to see Killian with Emma.

About an hour after they sit down, Will gets a text from Belle saying that the two women are on their way. They each share a look, automatically noticing that something feels off, but unable to tell what. That sensation is amplified by the look on Belle’s face when she arrives with Emma not far behind.

There’s a tightness around her eyes that Killian has never seen the soft-spoken woman have before. Emma is just behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest and a look that he would best describe as being a cross between solemn and murderous. Only his girlfriend could manage that combination of expressions.

“All right, Swan?”

“No. Not all right. Can uh, can we go back to my place?”

“Sure. Let me just -”

“I’ve got the tab. Go on,” Will says, his thick eyebrows drawn together.

The Bug is waiting for them when they get out, still running. Clearly, she hadn’t intended on spending long inside whether he was coming with her or not.

They’re silent on the drive back to her place, and even while they make the trek up to her loft. She’s quiet as she unwraps her scarf and kicks off her boots, all with deliberate and jerky movements.

“I have to kind of process through something,” she says, her voice thick with a myriad of emotions. “I don’t wanna talk. I don’t really want to do anything at all. But will you stay with me?”

“I’m here as long as you’ll have me. Whatever you need,” he tells her, making sure to catch her eyes so she knows he’s being honest.

Wordlessly, she locks the door before she leads him upstairs.

While Killian is normally the one with the carefully crafted routines - which, admittedly, have taken a backseat to finally relaxing and enjoying his time here in Storybrooke - there are certain things that Emma does every morning and every night as far as her own rituals command. He has never seen her go straight to her room without carefully scrubbing her face and teeth and removing her contacts.

Usually, she also takes that time to braid her hair to keep it from tangling too much while she sleeps, but tonight she leaves it hanging free, and he’s surprised when she only shucks off her clothes and pulls on a t-shirt before climbing into her bed.

Following suit, Killian removes his clothes and quickly folds them, leaving them on the cedar chest by the bottom of her bed as he usually does when he stays over before he climbs under the covers. Immediately, Emma is shifting until she’s pressed against him, her ear over his heart and her arm wrapped tightly around his midsection.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to,” he admits, hoping that it’s what she needs to hear. Her grip only tightens, and he decides to stay awake as long as he can to make sure she’s all right.

He must doze off because he wakes again to Emma’s lips pressed against his, her hand sliding into his boxers to stroke him awake. As soon as he’s aware of it, he’s kissing her back, helping her push down his boxers before she hastily rips off her own underwear and finds a condom. This is not how they usually have sex - he recognizes it immediately - but even as he hesitates, he hears her whispers.

“Please - I know, please, I just need…”

He responds by pulling her closer, kissing her as hard as she was kissing him to let her know he’s on board. She slides on top of him, gripping his hand like a lifeline and rocking against him as if it’s her one salvation. He can feel the panic and anger with each move of her hips above him and he just holds on, hopes she can feel the reassurance radiating from him, hopes she feels that he’s an anchor she can trust - that he’ll be with her no matter what this all means.

When they’re both sated, she collapses onto his chest, and to his surprise he feels the quiet sobs wracking through her body a few heartbeats later. She only really cries when she’s angry - she admitted as much to him some time ago when they were trying to decipher the use of pathos in commercials. He wraps his arms around her, running his hand soothingly over the small of her back and whispering anything he thinks may bring her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry that wasn’t… I basically just used you to fuck away my anger and that’s not…”

“Swan,” he says quietly, releasing his hold on her so he can coax her to look at him. “No apologies necessary, love.”

With hasty swipes, she dries her face. “I’m just so mad right now.”

“Will you tell me what about?”

“Just… give me a couple more minutes,” she says, sliding off of him and climbing off the bed. He hears her footsteps retreating down the stairs and the door to the lavatory close.

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself to sit up, turning on the light beside her bed and grabbing a couple tissues to clean himself up. He slips his boxers back up while he’s at it before sliding between the sheets again.

When she returns to her bedroom, her hair is tied up and her robe is wrapped around her like body armor. She must’ve used the time to scrub the last of her makeup off, as well, and his heart stutters a beat to see her looking so down but still so beautiful. She climbs up, sitting next to him at the head of the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles.

He’s watching her carefully, trying to not pressure her to talk but wishing she would say anything at this point, as the silence is slowly pressing in around them.

“My last ex was the absolute worst,” she finally starts, fingers fiddling with the ties on her robe. ��Worse than Neal, obviously. And worse than I ever thought he was when I found him cheating on me the day that Ruth died.”

He’s quiet, understanding that now is not the time for empty condolences for either incident. Instead, he reaches out and places his hand on her knee.

“He was a shitty antiques dealer down in Boston, never wanted to come up here to visit, never wanted to be seen with me, it seemed like. And unfortunately, he kept a lot of mementos from our time together.”

“How so?”

“You know how I told you I burned my uniform a couple years ago?”

He nods in response, tilting his head and wondering just where this could be going. She’d told him the beige monster was uncomfortable and unflattering, saying that any photographic evidence of the uniform in question was destroyed along with it.

“Well, I left a tiny part out,” she admits, looking over at him briefly.

“Nothing you tell me is going to run me off, Swan. I promise.”

With a bracing breath, she nods, focusing back on her hands in her lap. “I used to wear a uniform. Took it down to Boston with me because I was supposed to go straight to work the day I left his place. And he wanted to see it on. We were joking around and having fun.” She stops, grimacing and visibly willing her face to relax a moment later. “I let him take pictures. He had this fancy photo printer so he had physical copies and deleted them after they were done. At least, that’s what he swore he did. Just like everything else, it turns out that was a lie.

“Emma?”

“He has a website. A fucking website with all of us.”

“All of who?”

“Every girl he fucked in the year that he and I were together, according to the site description. He proposed to me, you know, right before we ended things. I was going to say yes but told him to give me some time. Ruth passed away about a week after he asked me and I drove all the way to Boston because I wanted… needed the person that claimed to love me. And he was in the middle of fucking another woman when I walked in the door. I told him to give me the photos before I left while this redhead sat naked on his bed and watched me gather my stuff.”

“And you got the physical ones from him?”

“Yeah, no surprise he lied about those being the only copies. He kept them in the top drawer of his dresser, so now I have to wonder where the rest are kept. The day after Ruth’s funeral, I burned the uniform - with David’s permission and minimal questions asked - and the photos.”

She goes quiet after saying that, not really keen on making eye contact for the moment. Killian takes the opportunity to gather the words he wants to say, trying to find the best order of questions and statements.

“You know that none of this is your fault, right? Nor do I blame you or feel any differently towards you because of your past.”

Emma sniffs at that, a half-hearted attempt at acknowledgement, so Killian leans closer and turns her face to his so he can plant a kiss on her lips.

“I mean it, Emma. This is on that wanker, not you at all.”

Her lips thin out for a second, but ultimately she nods and leans forward to give him another kiss.

“Now, will you tell me about how you found this all out?”

“I got an email while Belle and I were working on our little project. I figured it was spam at first but it just had this link to a website called ‘Banging U.S.A.’ and some instructions for a passcode and a state. When I clicked, there was a whole lot more of me than I expected to see. He must’ve been taking pictures through the whole thing, since not all of them were ones he printed and showed me later.”

“So some taken without your knowledge or consent? How much worse can this guy get?”

“Oh, it still gets worse. I tried not to click on anything else, but I ended up on the newly launched world edition,” she says with quotes around the words. “Without really thinking, I clicked on this little British flag and there was the woman I found him with. She was clearly far more into the photography thing than I was.”

“Bad, but how is that worse?”

“In the first three pictures, you can see one of my t-shirts on the dresser. In the others, it’s gone. Which means he went right back to fucking her as soon as I left his place with my stuff.”

“Definitely worse,” Killain mutters, drawing his hand over his face in disbelief.

“And we all had subtitles. Hers was the Wicked Witch of the West… and my South Pole.”

“Ouch.”

“Mine was Officer Tie-Me-Down and Fuck-Me-Up.”

“Bloody hell, Swan, how much villainy can one man possess?”

“Apparently, his cup runneth over.”

“Clearly.” They fall silent for a moment, until Emma’s head tilts over to rest on his shoulder. “Any idea what you’ll do about it?” he asks after letting her mull for a moment.

“No fucking clue.”

He shifts in order to kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer when she pushes her way under his arm. It’s still hours more before either of them fall asleep again.

-x- December 14: Saturday

When Killian wakes up again, it’s to the sound of Emma’s voice floating up from down below.

“I know, and I’m sorry for bailing without letting you know,” she says. “I had something come up.”

With much effort, Killian hauls himself out of the bed, pulling on his undershirt before making his way downstairs.

“No, it’s kind of why I was calling, though. Do you still have that phone number for James?”

Whatever response David must have for that is lengthy and aggravating, judging by the look on Emma’s face when Killian makes it to the main floor. She looks up and gives him a wan smile, pulling the phone away from her ear long enough to lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. Dave’s voice is, indeed, squawking out quite the storm from the earpiece, and Killian does nothing more than raise an eyebrow in question before giving her a kiss of his own and moving towards the coffee pot.

“Well, when you calm down about that, give me a call back. I need his number and you’ll agree with me when I tell you why.”

Her phone clatters to the table but she’s already moving towards where Killian is standing against the kitchen counter.

“Good morning,” she says, leaning up and pulling him down to give him a much warmer, much more thorough kiss.

“Same to you. Feeling a little better?”

“More like a fire’s been lit under my ass and I have a plan. I have to swing by my brother’s place to harass him about our other asshole brother. Want me to drop you at home?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I need to head to the office to finish up the last of the preparations and my notes for the party on Friday.”

“No trouble at all. Wanna get breakfast along the way?”

“Food and time with my girlfriend? Only a fool would refuse such blessings.”

When they part ways, he’s amazed at the clear change in mindset she’s gone through in less than twelve hours. Even as she kisses him goodbye, there’s determination burning in her eyes.

-x-

It takes roughly forty minutes of needling David before he finally caves and gives her the phone number James had called from once, on accident, a couple years ago. She’s plugging it into her phone and hitting ‘call’ before she’s even halfway out of David’s workshop, taking the steps two at a time to get to the first floor.

“Don’t hang up,” Emma says as soon as James answers.

“Emma?”

“You mean you actually have my number saved in your phone?”

“I’m sure that’s surprising but yeah, makes it easier to call you if I need to ask for money.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed a bit,” Emma responds, rolling her eyes at his words.

David reaches for the phone when he gets to the kitchen but Emma bats his hand away.

“I’m guessing you’re the one that needs something if you’re calling me.”

“You’re still in Boston, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“You still have that fancy talent at hacking computers and websites?”

“Listen, I haven’t done anything wrong. I stopped doing all that ages ago.”

“I don’t care if you’re a law-abiding citizen,” Emma snaps. “I need someone who doesn’t care about the law.”

“So the wonder twins need my help because I don’t follow the rules?”

“Pretty much. I have an ex that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Fine. Come down here next Friday and I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll do something for me,” he adds at the very end.

“Like what?”

“We’ll discuss my terms on Friday.”

“I have a party…”

“Oh? You have a party?” His tone is mocking, and Emma swallows back the retort she wants to spit at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll be there. David is coming with me. You do the job, I’ll repay you however you want me to, and then I never have to see you again.”

“Sounds good to me,” James singsongs. “I’ll text you the address. See you Friday, little sis.”

“That guy’s the worst,” Emma snaps when the call ends. “How is he your fucking twin?”

David just shrugs. “And this is why I didn’t want you to call him. Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“You have to promise you aren’t going to have a coronary or something, okay?”

“Go for it. I will… do my best.”

She takes a deep breath before she urges him to sit down while she starts to tell him what she’s just found out.

To give him some credit, he doesn’t completely lose it. But he does turn an interesting shade of purple at the news that there’s a website that has pornographic photographs of his sister. Trying to get around those words is possibly the most mortifying thing she’s ever been through, until David opens his mouth when she’s done speaking.

“Has Killian seen this site?”

“God, David. No. And he won’t if I have anything to do with it. I’m not going to show my boyfriend pictures of me fucking another guy,” she screeches, standing and stomping over to their coffeemaker to indulge in more caffeine.

She doesn’t really want to tell James the same news. She doesn’t want to tell him more than she absolutely has to, but she also needs the skillset he picked up from being a generally bad person in order to get this chapter of her life wiped from existence.

Unfortunately, it’s going to mean missing the one thing she was looking forward to since Killian first told her about it.

She stops by his office to see him next, admiring the way he looks when he’s deeply concentrating. She can also see just how much he’s put into decorating his office in the time they’ve been together. She remembers stark walls and an empty desk. Now, his degrees are hanging, along with a few artistic prints of book covers. His desk is similarly fuller, with picture frames and small knick knacks beyond the single one that used to be there.

With one more bracing breath, she prepares to go in. He’s going to understand, because he already knows what’s going on, but she hates to disappoint him.

“Swan?”

She’s knocked from her idle watching by him softly saying her name.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, walking in and shutting the door. She moves around to lean on the edge of his desk right in front of him. “But I have some bad news. I can’t come to the debut on Friday. That’s when my creep-o brother can help me out. I’ll have to be in Boston.”

His face falls, the disappointment clear, but his hand reaches out and brushes along hers. “As much as I’m sad you won’t be with me, I know it’s for a bigger purpose. Is this evil twin in law? Law enforcement?”

Emma’s face freezes, realizing that she never shared with him how she planned on having James help her.

“Okay, long story short? James is really good at being a bad guy.”

To his credit, Killian listens with full attention as she launches into her plan and doesn’t even call her crazy.

“Barring any legal repercussions from this Walsh, I find no fault in this plan.”

“I’m pretty sure with James’ help, I won’t have to worry about him trying to come back at us.” At her reassurances, Killian nods in what she hopes is approval. “Should I let you get back to work?”

Slowly, he eases her off the desk and into his lap. “Maybe in a moment or two?”

It’s a question, leaving the answer in her court.

“I’d be happy if it goes a little longer than a moment,” Emma responds, settling herself fully into his lap and chuckling at the look in his eyes. She pulls her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

“I like to think we’re making up for all those times we’ve been interrupted,” Killian says before sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Straight to the point. She’s glad she locked the door when she closed it.

-x-

Chapter 8

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #captain swan ff #csrt #sarah writes ff

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