#it has currently sucked out any of the joy I felt before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

storyowls · 5 months ago

Text

Anna Harris: Pre-Embrace drabbles

Some of the drabbles I did for my VtM character Anna!

Warning, these works can include: Mentions of a body, negative feelings towards family, death of a family member, and strong language.

The weird, uneasy feeling that I expect to have in my tiny dorm isn’t there. All media has told me that I’d feel weird being away from my family, so removed yet so close. But I don’t, I don’t feel that at all.

I feel relieved.

The relief fades as I realize what that means. That nagging, aching, buried in my chest and squeezing my throat feeling. My hands cover my face as I try to hold it all inside, like the scared seventeen year old that I am. All my cousins are so much older than me, the youngest was ten when I was born. And uncle Rocco….he was nine, when I came around, but he cared.

He cared so much.

The others didn’t.

I was just there, a constant, annoying, young kid who was too small to do what they wanted to do. I was just annoying to teenagers, young adults. They had moved on so far with life when I was a teenager myself.

The severed feeling I felt from that side of the family when he died is still strangling my soul so hard.

I don’t belong, I never belonged. I’m so sorry Rocco.

I’m sorry.

And I hate that I will never belong.

Mom insisted on putting a full body mirror in my tiny dorm (I’m tossing a sheet over it, fuck this) and I don’t want to tell her how I feel. We stand in front of it, and I just stare at myself. Try to ignore how different we look, how Dad’s genes won over hers except for the color of my hair.

I can’t even look like the others, can I?

She makes a comment about how beautiful I am, placing a hand on my shoulder. Am I, Mom? Am I really when I’m so far detached from the family? I can’t tell her about the aching in my chest, the longing for a sense of belonging.

How I’ve wanted to scream at her for making me have a different last name than everybody else.

She seems to be done with her check in on me (please give me space to grieve whom I never was in peace), and starts to walk towards the door. I follow her, we talk for half an hour more as her hand rests on the handle. I watch as she leaves before stepping back in and shutting the door.

And I toss a sheet over that stupid mirror.

The sketchbook is full.

Looking down at the last page, I study the drawings of a dissected tulip. The Darwin Hybrid tulip breed; beautiful, steady, a resilient flower for any discerning gardener. Or the favorite of a somewhat depressed, extremely bored college student. It’s my sophomore year, still stuck doing my general classes. I’ve moved to a somewhat bigger place; a near by apartment complex with my first roommate from the dorms.

And she’s currently out on a date so I have the place to myself.

Letting out a content sigh, I grab my fancy colored pencils and begin to color the pictures. I’m happy with this, feel like a real artist. And a real big dork too, haha. I soon finish up, closing the sketchbook up and going to hide it for now. Maybe I’ll share these one day.

Hell maybe I’ll design my own tattoo sometime.

But for now, I’m just get another sketchbook and fill that up too. Got a lot of plants to draw after all.

And a lot of college ahead of me.

I got the singing from Mom, the guitar skills from Dad. A country singer and a man who, if he so decided, could break the blue grass music industry with a smile and a wave created me. I do not sing country, I do not play blue grass.

I do metal.

I quietly pluck my guitar strings, my roommate out for the night to celebrate her first degree. We’re both very driven, ready for more, and we’ve agreed to move into one of the college apartments once we leave this dorm. More room, more privacy. And the parking doesn’t suck.

As for me, I’ve recently finished my minor in music theory, making Mom prouder than the day she got her first platinum album. Dad voiced his pleasure in a letter, and I can feel the radiating warmth of his joy. This degree has made Mom back off a little, giving me room to go after my true joys.

The sound of my music quietly fills the air as I try not to be a disturbance to our neighbors. Music sheets litter the tiny, shitty desk I have crammed into a corner. I pause, picking up my marker to connect a few more notes, write down another line in the lyrics. This has been my little project for a while, a hidden knowledge and joy. Smiling, I hold the pages up to see what I have.

Mom probably wouldn’t like it, but I don’t care. The words work, the music works. I just need somebody else to be part of this, and the song will be perfect. It’s me, all the way down to the screams and the resentment, it’s me.

I got the singing from Mom, the guitar skills from Dad, and the song from me and me alone.

I’m sitting through a classmate’s dissertation defense. While most people outside us would be bored, I and the others here are fascinated. Out of the corner of my eye I see their family; a bunch of fellow nerds in some degree. They may not fully understand, but they’re clearly interested.

I wonder how mine will look, if they come.

While most of them went to some form of schooling beyond high school (yes, trade school counts and it’s very important), their interests didn’t exactly align with mine. Most went into business, music, trades, and a couple became lawyers.

I once more settle under the very lonely “odd ball” section of the family.

Sitting back in my seat, I let my mind snap back to my classmate. Charles catches my attention briefly, tilting his head as if asking me a question. I nod in reply, knowing what he’s curious about. Giving me that soft, knowing smile, he turns back to the front and I follow his lead.

Damn, he’s good at knowing when I need him.

The defense wraps up, and we all stand around to talk for a little. After about ten or so minutes we disperse, going off in our own merry little ways. My mind thinks about Charles, trying to not think about who I will see at the end of the week. I spot him ahead, clearly waiting for me with a hand out stretched.

I eagerly take it when I catch up to him.

I try not to look too much at them as I give my defense, I don’t need to see. My paternal grandparents clearly are into it...mom and her side are doing their best to be supportive, but it’s all falling a little flat. Of course it is, but I’m trying not to let it get to me.

My classmates are into it, watching and listening intently. They’re my people, and I’m their person. I keep my attention on them, giving little glances once in a while as they watch. Charles is here, of course, and there’s a big smile on his face. It breaks my heart for a moment, knowing that we’re going to be parting ways after graduation.

I’m going to LA, and he’s going to Alaska.

I let my mind go back to the task at hand, finishing with a sense of triumph and confidence. My family come up to talk with me a little before leaving. Mom lingers a little, the smile of a proud mother on her face as she tells me I did great. I know I did, but I don’t say anything. I watch her leave before going to my classmates. We talk, and I let the pain melt away for a little bit.

I try to ignore the fact that I’m part of the painful, lonely “odd ball” section of the family where nobody else resigns.

It’s midnight, and I need a rush of caffeine before I fall asleep on the next job site. I know I’ve joked about wanting a dirt nap during exam season, but I did not mean like that. Pulling into a parking spot at the random gas station between point B and C, I look at the building. Lively enough to hopefully have coffee, but quiet enough that only the single person on shift will be there to judge my piss poor life choices.

Perfect.

Grabbing my purse, I pull my lanyard off and shove it in there so as not to just hand out my name to random people. My van shifts slightly as I open the door and climb out, which doesn’t surprise me anymore. Maybe someday I’ll get something else, something that hasn’t seen Michigan winters. Double check the doors locked before shutting the driver’s side and heading inside.

I don’t even check to see if somebody’s at the counter, I’m technically on break so I can take a moment to just look around. If they’re off doing something, they’ll come back. And since I’m here, might as well get some sort of lunch…late dinner, early as shit breakfast? I consider getting a hot dog, but eh, I’m just going to chip it.

Looks like I haven’t really gotten out of the college mindset yet. Getting a PhD will do that to ya.

After grabbing my chips of choice, I look at the coffee. Oh, oh no. It looks like the last shift made this, and I know stuff happens, but not this. Even I have standards for my coffee, and something I’d do to torture myself during my dissertation period isn’t on the list.

Once was enough, thanks.

This means I’m stuck with energy drinks, fuck me. Turning, I look at my choices, no to the Red Bull, the Monster….shit. I resign myself to my fate of the tiny, weird looking bottle of 5-hour Energy. Picking it up, I decide to stop wasting time and go up to the counter.

The person on shift looks like they don’t wanna be here. Don’t really think I can blame them. As they scan my items I notice the multiple magazines they have laid out to read when nobody’s around. I wonder when the last customer they saw before me was. I count the change out once they’re done, handing it over. The worker quickly glances it over, seeming somewhat grateful for exact change, and puts it in the register.

Once I’m handed my receipt, I pick my things up, say bye, and leave. There’s a strange, lingering sense of emptiness as I step out into the parking lot. I decide to chalk it up to the time of night, and unlock my van before slipping inside. It shifts as I get inside and slam the door closed.

Double checking that the doors are locked, I turn it on just enough for the radio. I put on the lanyard once more, making sure my work ID is facing out so people know who I am. Ripping the energy drink open, I let out a sigh before drinking it the only way I know. Chugging it.

If these people wanted me to sip it like a fine wine, they’re going to have to make the idea seem good.

Once done, I put the bottle and its cap in the little bag I have for trash. Fully starting my engine, and after buckling up, I start to back out of the spot I’ve been holding onto. I can eat in the parking lot of my next destination (damn me for not packing a real lunch), chill out for the rest of my break before pretending to be a whole person for some other botanist.

It’s sometime after midnight, and I’m banking on a rush of caffeine to carry me through the rest of the night.

Well, this certainly wakes me up.

Pulling out my phone, I find the non-emergency line for the police. After giving them the details of where I am, and what I found, I hang up and call my boss. She seems surprised and states that she’s on her way to me.

“How far back are you standing?”

“I backed up like five feet the instant I saw what I dug up.”

“Okay, good. I’ll be there soon, you just wait.” She hangs up and I put my phone away.

I back up a few feet more, just to make sure. I’m still within sight so I can keep an eye on it, and this way nobody has to try and find me.

Luckily I already have lights set up so I’m not just sitting in the dark. Sighing, I go and get my book from my purse before sitting down. I leaf through the pages, and wait.

It’s not like the body’s going anywhere anyway.

My boss gets here a few minutes before the police who instantly go to the body. She and I discuss how this will probably slow down the job site for a few days. There’s promises that I’ll still be paid, even though I’m not working. Works for me; I probably just saved her a lot of legal headache by finding it tonight.

I hear a cop remark that the body looks pretty fresh, and my heart sinks.

I try not to think about how it took some willpower to not just stand and stare at what I found for a few minutes before calling. The classes I took in college really piqued my curiosity in this line of work, though I was going to stick with the botany.

I hope whoever this is gets identified and returned to whoever cares about them.

A cop comes over to talk to me. I pull out the laminated map showing where the dig sites were supposed to be and explain I was to get dirt samples. The workers during the day dug up the exact spots already, I didn’t have to do much that night.

“However,” I pull out a white board marker, circling the spot where the body was, “this was not supposed to be dug up. Naturally this got my attention, and I was very careful during my look over. The soil seemed to be dug up later too. So I carefully dug up some of the dirt and well…”

“You found the victim. What’d you do then?”

“I dropped my tool on the edge of the hole I dug up and then backed up about five feet before calling. I already messed with the scene enough, I didn’t want to do more damage.”

“Well, you didn’t do enough to mess with our work, and thank you for calling right away Miss Harris, we appreciate it. We’ll get our stuff set up so you can get yours and get home. Hopefully this won’t keep you up tonight.”

“Yeah, hopefully, thanks officer.” I watch him walk away before standing back, not wanting to get in the way. I’ve definitely earned the right to spend the rest of the night at a karaoke bar after this.

And that’s where I’ll be.

I stand in front of the shitty, second hand full sized mirror I got at the thrift store. I’ve shoved it into a corner of my bedroom where I can easily hide it, turn it away. But I’m looking myself over, thinking about how I’ve grown and changed since the last mirror I had.

The one I smashed in college.

I have the stare of a stubborn fool who got a doctorate in something most people don’t wanna hear about. It’s going to be a struggle making friends, I feel like, for many reasons. I can just imagine the awkward silence when I introduce myself now.

The stares that tell me I don’t belong here.

I turn, staring over my shoulder as I check out the backwards reflections of my patches. Most collected over the years, bought myself or gifted. A couple of them…well, if Ridley wanted to keep them he should’ve come the fuck back to Detroit.

The thought that I probably won’t find him ever again catches in my throat and I choke down the tears.

Instead, I just stare at myself, Mom’s words about how beautiful I am ringing in my ears; metaphorically of course. Straightening myself up, I grab the tattered sheet I brought with me and toss it over the mirror. I can bring myself to stare at it some other time.

But for now, I’m going to a quick job to do before I go to church.

I exit the church, disappointed but somehow not surprised. There’s the aching pain in my chest, again, the longing of…something I’d rather not admit. Times like these make me wish I smoked so I’d have something to cut the anxiety.

Coffee doesn’t help and I’m not too keen on having too many college level nights with a punch bowl again.

My mind turns to the one guy I sat down by, the one with the stare of a man who hated nearly everybody he saw in there. It was fucking creepy, but somehow, I related. Maybe he feels just as let down by this whole shitshow like I do, maybe that’s what led me to talk to him. That or the fact that I’m dressed like a metal head dipshit and he was rocking the crusty punk look.

Fucking hell, what good is a PhD if you don’t know how to control your emotions?

I realize that I paused by the door’s side, not blocking the entry way but still close enough to hear any loud praying inside. I wish that stuff worked, gave me any sort of peace. Instead I have to deal with the fact that I’m just an idiot who thought that moving to LA would fix me in some fashion. Sure, being away from Mom helps, but…

Shaking my head, I turn and go towards the parking lot. Maybe I’ll just go drink some shitty coffee at Mic’s, scream the emotions out. Probably going to make some shitty art tonight, that’ll help for sure.

And I just need to ignore the aching in my chest.

Oh fucking hell, is this another body?

Is it going to be a common trend for me to find bodies while on the job? If so I’m going to need more...personal test tubes. I look around, spotting nobody. Fuck it, might as well. I back up to my equipment, grabbing one of the “spare” test tubes I keep on hand. In reality it’s for more, well, opportune moments like this.

I need to back up my college work somehow, right?

I’m quick to grab some of the dirt that’s furthest away from the body. I stare at it for a moment, guessing that it’s been in this spot for at least six months. A guess, of course, I’m no expert. I desperately want to study it more, but I can’t. Pocketing the tube, I back up and make yet another call.

I just hope nobody saw me.

I’m having the dream again.

Rocco sits across from me at one of the many coffee tables my grandparents owned in one of multiple sitting rooms. We’re on the floor, playing cards sprawled out in front of us. Probably UNO, not that the memory would serve me well. He’s got that smile on his face, and I can feel my heart sinking.

“Hey kid, what’s up?”

“Oh, same old…”

“College done?”

“Yeah, moved out to LA.”

“...didn’t wanna be by your mom?”

“….I couldn’t take it anymore. Being there.”

“Come on kiddo, you know she loves you.”

“And she loved you.” My voice breaks a little as I stare at him. His face falters for a second as he glances at me. “I know she blames herself for what happened. Over heard her talking to Dad once.”

“And why does she blame herself?”

“I know she asked you to come pick me up from school, surprise me. I was having one of my days after, after…”

“The diagnosis.”

“Yeah, that. She knew that you getting me would just make my whole day so much better. So she asked you, and you were coming..”

“And the guy side swiped me.” He pauses, looking me over. “You don’t blame her, do you?”

“Never.”

“Then who do you blame?” I don’t want to answer, feeling like I can’t breath despite it being a dream. “Anna, darling, who do you blame?”

“Me, I blame me.” The tears start to roll down my face, “If only I’d been normal, I wouldn’t have had one of those days, you wouldn’t have to come get me!”

“Anna, hey, hey.” He reaches out, drying my face with his hand, “It’s not your fault, that guy would have hit anybody coming his way. The way the universe shook that shit out isn’t your fault, okay?”

He gives me that smile, and all I can do is nod as I feel like a scared nine year old again. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the table, he cleans me up, humming softly. Soft, knowing, loving. Like the piece of my soul that was severed from me that day.

“Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Roc.”

And with that, I wake up.

#c. Anna Harris #Vampire the Masquerade #Story's writing

7 notes · View notes

khaleesiofalicante · 1 year ago

Note

I'M FINALLY ON VACATION!!!! FUCK YEAH ANOTHER SEMESTER DONE😎. I feel weird but I guess that's normal, and I'm also feeling kinda overwhelmed and emotional bc that means I have one year left before all my friends and I move to different campuses to specialize on our main areas😭 ONE YEAR IS TOO LITTLE I'VE BECOME TOO ATTACHED TO THOSE LITTLE SHITS SEND HELP

Anyway, I have a shitton of free time now and I'm hoping to get a lot of things done with it, mainly reading (I'm reading my first french book and it's hard but I'm getting there yey!!), watching all the things on my list and Andrew's lol, cleaning and reorganizing my room, rereading LBAF and IALS as a little treat😌 and maybe finally finishing some moodboards

Also, my mom's mental health has been really great these last few days and she just told me she feels better now than how she has felt for the last almost two years. I can't tell you how fucking relieved I am for it😭

I hope work is a little less heavy too lol. But also, I'm looking to find a part-time job these vacations, because the one I currently have is by home office, I have time and I could use the extra money. Any tips for applying???

Anyway, how are you??? I hope work is also less heavy and if not, I'm sending you all these relaxing vibes!!!!!

I loooove having this much free time because it's 1 a.m and Imma reread FMF until I pass out, no one can stop me and there will be no consequences to this!!! I can just wake up late!!! Wow, I always forget how much I enjoy this 🥰

FUCK YEAH THIS IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE *smashes a table in pure joy*

Vacation times are always emotional because we're not used to getting so much time and space to ourselves and our thoughts. So, don't worry about it. Take a couple of days to do absolutely nothing - just sleep and eat and sleep some more.

Tell me about the stuff you watch and send recs if you like any of them!

I'm so proud of and happy for your mother. Hope she keeps feeling better and stronger. And I'm glad this coincided with your vacation. So so happy for you!

Getting summer jobs - pick something you like (even if it's just for the summer). Doing jobs that suck makes you hate working and that shit sticks. Also, apply for as many as possible. There might be a youth portal or something similar (google this it will help) in your country/city. Filter it with part-time jobs and other things that match your requirements. This is a very easy way of finding jobs. Some keywords for googling (city name + youth opportunities + part-time jobs + job portals + remote work)

I'm doing well, actually. Mostly because the workload is not heavy right now and I have a better handle on things. Hope this continues. I deserve this after that horrifying May/June hehe.

AND YES TO WAKING UP LATE AND NOT HAVING PLANS.

Hope you have a blast, babygirl 💙

#noah boo thang

7 notes · View notes

bokuroskitten · 4 years ago

Note

your piece about oral fixation was just 🤤 so now im super curious as to what kinda of gags you think the haikyuu captains + iwa would use on their partners.

oh anon, truly I'm grateful for this one. Because as a rope bunny, I think about it constantly. I didn't do every single haikyuu captain, just ones I feel I know the best. Enjoy the filth. ❦

ℌℭ❦

〈what kind of gags would the haikyuu captains (Bokuto, Terushima, Ushijima, Oikawa, Daichi, Kuroo, Kita) + Iwa enjoy using on their partner.

⋆genre: 18+ NSFW (Minors DNI)

⋆warnings: BDSM themes (use of bondage and gags), dom/sub dynamics (daddy & master title used), oral (female receiving), spit, degradation & dumbification

Bokuto couldn’t be bothered with gags. He likes to hear you falling apart on his cock, the whimpers, the cries, the begging. It’s all music to Bokuto’s ears. Although if you do want to be gagged Bokuto just uses his thick fingers down your throat or slaps his palm across your lips. Both methods effectively render you silent and he still gets the joy of feeling your moans vibrating along his skin.

“You’re so fucking loud, Birdy. The whole neighbourhood is gonna know you’re a desperate little cock whore. Isn’t that right baby Bird?” Bokuto’s voice was nothing but a growl up against your ear, his heavy balls still slapping ruthlessly against your ass as he plunged himself faster into your tight cunt. He went in at the perfect angel this time, his cock head pressing to that sweet spot that would have you screaming. Before the sound could slip out Bokuto pushed three fingers into your mouth, grinning as he watched drool bubble between his knuckles, your cries getting muffled into his skin.

“Yeaaa, suck away baby and take what’s given to you.”

⋆⋆⋆

Terushima is a horny one, typically just wants to get the job done quickly and easily, so he likes to use what’s around. This typically means he’s using his tie. He usually wears one to his job, or sometimes finds himself keeping a spare in his back pocket when you’re being extra annoying. He always ties a knot in the middle first, pressing it between your teeth before knotting the material behind your head. It’s effective enough to keep you muffled but simple enough that he can still see your lips tremble, watch drool darken the fabric and dribble down your chin.

“Careful princess, you want the boys to know I’m stuffing you full of cock?” He spoke through a wicked grin, his lips pressed to your pulse as his hands held your hips in a death grip. The subtle slap of your ass into his pelvis kept him on beat, along with the muffled cries you let out into his tie. One of his hands slithered up your bent form, making sure to squeeze one of your breasts on the way up before taking hold of your jaw. His long fingers brushed over your chin, the drool already gathering there making him pick up his pace. He pressed the knot he made in his tie further between your teeth, making you whimper a plea that had him chuckling.

“Messy fuckin thing, by the time I fill you up there’s gonna be a mess on your face and between your thighs.”

⋆⋆⋆

Ushijima is a simple man with simple desires. Despite that, he actually enjoys using a gag on you because it gives him even more power over you than you already give him. He typically won’t use one unless other BDSM elements are in play (his favourite is ropes because he likes to make intricate patterns over your skin) but his favourite type to use is a deep throat gag. In every sense of the word, Ushi is big and wants to make sure your tight little throat is ready to be used when he wants it to use it. There’s a couple of different sizes he uses that he has you build up with, but each one comes with a reward when you’re able to swallow it down without gagging.

Although his face was usually calm during sessions today was an exception as he worked the length of the gag between your lips. “Baby, tap out if you need to—“ But you just furrowed your brows at him, fists tightening in determination which were currently bound above your head. It was a sign for him to keep going, so he did. He pushed the slick silicon between your lips until the hilt rested against your lips. He didn’t do up the leather strap just yet, waited to see if you’d gag or choke with such a big size being shoved down your throat. But there you were, sitting pretty with tears riming your lashes, the gag pressing snuggly down on your tongue. Ushijima hummed out, pleased with such progress as he was slow to buckle up the leather strap. He pressed kisses along your jaw, a small smile creeping its way onto his lips.

“I’m so proud of you, little one.”

⋆⋆⋆

Oikawa will only use ring gags because it keeps your mouth wide open and ready to use whenever he feels he needs it. Plus it allows for him to still be able to hear you when you moan and cry for him. He also loves the mess you make with a ring gag, helpless to the drool and bubbling spit that falls from your chin. Sometimes as a form of punishment he’ll leave you between his thighs, arms bound and a ring gag held snuggly between your lips. He’ll stroke his cock lazily while watching tv, only grabbing a fist full of your hair to shove that sloppy mouth of yours onto his cock when he feels the need.

The whines you let out are ignored completely by Oikawa, a little huff leaving his lips as his eyes slowly slip from the screen down to between his legs. There you sat, eyes wide and mascara streak marks down your cheeks. Your body was already trembling, sitting on your hunches for whenever Oikawa decided to take hold of your hair once more. He could see the way your tongue tried to pick up some of the drool that fell from the ring, only making matters worse as a new little stream of spit fell off your chin to continue to dampen your tank top. Oikawa just couldn’t help himself, and in one swift motion, his hips were pressing his cock back between the ring, burying deep within your throat that had it constricting. He hissed softly before a small flutter of laughter escaped him.

“Fuck, at least this fucking throat is good for something. Maybe I should keep this ring on all the time so you’ll always be ready for my dick? You like the sound of that baby?” He was only met by muffled whines and gags as he bobbed your head along this length.

⋆⋆⋆

Daichi hates when you talk back to him, it makes him so tense because all he does is treat you like his perfect little princess. So when you do get mouthy he has no problem getting you worked up whenever you are. He’ll tease, whisper into your ear about how naughty your being, grab handfuls of your ass until you make a mess of your panties. He’ll then shove the filthy material between your lips. Not only will get to humiliate you then, but he’ll also get to punish you properly without having to hear a single peep from you.

“You think good little girls talk back to their daddy’s like you do? No. They listen, and they behave. Since you wanna use such a filthy mouth I’ll keep it filthy for you.” Your previous cries were brought down to muffles as Daichi forced your damp panties between your lips. Balled up and soaked from your precious arousal you can’t even help but let your eyes flutter, the taste of your own desire making your cheeks burn bright pink. Daichi has to scoff, fingers pressing into your cheeks as giving your jaw a little shake. “Taste that? That’s your filthy little cum stains. Imagine staining your own panties from a few promises of punishment?” His cock was heavy as he quickly freed it from his boxers, making you Yelp softly as it slapped down against your already soaked slit. He rubbed it along you a few moments, pressing into your cheeks harder to keep your panties in place.

“Maybe if I just fuck you stupid, you’ll stop talking altogether?”

⋆⋆⋆

Kuroo likes to keep with the classics, and there’s nothing more classic than a ball gag. He started off with wiffleball first, wanting you to feel nothing but comfortable before he moved on to solid silicon, balls that would leave your jaw aching after sessions. He loved the way you looked, sitting on your knees for him on the bed with a bright red ball gag wedged in your mouth, already covered in spit. He would the type to put on you whenever you felt like it just so he could coo about how pretty you looked. He also took many many pictures of your mouth stuffed, keeping a secret folder just for it.

“Stay still kitten,” Kuroo mumbled close to your ear, pressing a couple playful kisses to your lobe as he secured the black leather behind your head. He slipped two fingers into the band, making sure it was loose enough to pull off if needed but tighten to hold. Once he was pleased he pulled away, the most satisfying groan leaving his lips as yours were stretched around the bright red. “Perfect, my perfect fucking kitten...” he spoke, his thumb pressing along the ball as you blinked up at him with wide, needy eyes. Your hands stay still on your lap exactly where he instructed them, a little whine coming out muffled only when Kuroo pulled away from you fully. He rose a brow at that, the flash of disappointment in his gaze enough to have you resting back down on your hunches.

“Ah, I said stay still, Kitty. I’ll play with you soon I promise. But Daddy needs a few pictures of his beautiful baby before we can get started. So keep sitting pretty for me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Kita only uses any form of BDSM with you because you’re interested in it. When you brought it up to him he was very much unaware but did as much research as possible. He decides to start off with a bite gag because, unlike ball gags, it allows for more relaxation of the jaw, as well as causes less mess in terms of drool. Plus he’s always enjoyed watching you bite down on the sheets when you're feeling a lot of pleasure, so the bite gag allows for him to watch your teeth sink on so perfectly into the rubber.

Kita’s thrusts slowed almost too much for you, your pussy desperately fluttering around his length to bring back that friction. You wanted to beg him to keep going, pick the pace back up but all you could do was let out muffled cries, press your teeth further into the bite forced between your lips. Kita watched it all, the way your face twisted up with need, the way your back arched, the way your hips jutted forwards in hopes to feel more of him. He just let out a soft little groan, planting a firm palm on your hip to keep you in place as he continued his slow, dragged out thrusts into your throbbing cunt.

“Just a little longer like this, kay Darlin? I love seeing you bite into that gag, we’re gonna have to use it more often.”

⋆⋆⋆

Iwaizumi was used to using his hand, slapping it over your lips when he found you were getting too loud. But he never knew what to do with all your squirming. Cuffs were too simple and ropes just weren’t his vibe, but when he discovered bondage tape it was a whole other ball game. Not only was it perfect because it only stuck to itself, resulting in safer play, but it was very much effective in shutting you up when he needed you quiet. His favourite part is watching you flinch when he rips a piece away from the roll, the way you shiver in anticipation as he hovers the piece over your lips. It only when you're about to whine at him that he presses it against your lips, a grin curling on his lips.

“Fuck Princess, you’re tighter than usual? Excited?” Iwaizumi murmured, his grin growing as he watched your eyes roll up in pleasure. He brought a large palm up to your cheek, bringing your blurry vision back to his own. His thrusts slowed, allowing his thick cock to drag along that throbbing spot within you. That had your back arching, muffled little pleas melting into the tape that was held firm over your lips. Iwaizumi sighed softly, his thumb rubbing over the tape to feel out the outline of your pretty lips. The action had you nuzzling into his palm, another string of muffled nonsense trying to escape the tape and failing miserably.

“I know you’re begging me to move faster under here... but remember princess, Master makes the rules. So let’s keep you quiet and I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow.”

944 notes · View notes

marzannazillah · 2 years ago

Text

A/N: Next chapter is here for Warmth, Eris x OC. Sorry but this chapter isn't any happier than the last in fact it might be even more angsty. I'm not giving anyone hope for a happy ending am I? I promise it will come, I just like writing my characters in pain. 😅 There's going to be a lot of slow burn but I promise next chapter we will at least be getting out of Under the Mountain. So kinda happy.

TW are depression, knives, and torture.

Warmth: Chapter 3

Sometimes they leave me down here for weeks or months but this has to have been the longest length of time yet. The first time it happened I thought maybe it was a trick to torture me more by having me wait in anticipation. Never knowing when they would yank me from my cell for Amarantha’s amusement. Then I thought maybe they forgot about me or Amarantha had grown bored finally. And on my hardest days, I thought she was dead and I had been left down here to rot forgotten by everyone. I don't think I will ever have a true answer for these times when I'm left in my cell for days on end. But this has got to be a record. The days blur together when you can't see the sun set and rise, but I could swear it's been almost a year since Amarantha has had me out for fun. I know they have not forgotten me for I still have eaten, be it my meals are weeks apart and sparse, but they come nonetheless. I should not hope for anything, but I can't help it either way. Though I do miss the routine, being stuck with yourself as your only companion kinda sucks at least when I was being tortured and killed I wasn't alone. Mother that's a dark thought, but it feels true.

_________________________________________

They finally came, yanking me from my sleep and dragging me up to the party Amarantha was having. Perhaps I should not feel excited but I do, for at least I will see my brother and him. It has been so long since I have seen anyone, even those who deliver my meals have been sparser than normal. My body is chained around a poll in the center of the room, for display. I stand there, the chains digging into my skin for hours as the guest use me as target practice. I am stabbed and cut, killed as many times as they desire. I block most of it out, focusing on the pain and giving a reaction only makes things worse. I won't let any vile word spoken bother me, not even that of those Autumn males, who seem to take immense joy in this night of torture. They have been the highest contributors, for once Amarantha has left me to others and taken no part.

I feel the string tighten around my finger, my attention drawing to the pull I feel, looking for him. Ignoring the current male that is making slices across my abdomen, shallow but stinging nonetheless. I find him, easily enough, he stands tall and broad across the room, talking with another male I can't place. I look away before any prying eyes find mine locked on him. I won't bring trouble his way or mine, I certainly have enough already. For the rest of the night, I make a point to glance his way, to see if he pays me any attention. He doesn't even glance in my direction until near the end when the party is winding down, and many are drunk or passed out. And when he does I wish he would have kept ignoring me because he's not looking at me but through me.

A blade in his hands, tossing it between them as his eyes focused, before settling the blade in his left hand. All I can do is stare at the blade as he throws it, sliding from his long fingers, flawlessly, and flies straight at its target, me. As the blade sunk into my skin, through my chest, and into my heart I felt none of it. I was numb to the pain, all I could feel was the burning of my bond, it was searing against my finger, as death crept in. My limbs began to get heavy, my breathing labored as I felt their hands hovering waiting for my heart to stop, so they could begin pulling. Their frigid breath ghosted against my skin as my heart slowed down. My head pounded and my body grew heavier by the second, my lungs struggling to get air. But I fought death until I could see him, my eyes were heavy as I searched, and my vision darkened in the corners as I found him. He was laughing with a female, and that's when the burning ripped through my body, the bond. It seared through me, every inch of me felt blistering.

So I screamed in agony, anger, and grief. And I hoped it would end, that death would take me and life wouldn't pull me back. Mother let me die, let him feel our bond, and know he's the one that killed me. Let him have hope that I will come back, only to have that ripped from him as he feels nothing down our bond. Let him have the same hope I had when our bond snapped for me and let him rot with the guilt of my death for the rest of his life. Just as I have been waiting in that fucking cell for something anything, only for him to laugh after killing me. His mate. Mother just let me die, let him feel a fraction of what I felt waiting for him, what I'm feeling now. For all my stupid endless hope, that's given me nothing but pain in return. Just let me die.

_________________________________________

In the pitch darkness of my cell, the glow of my bond mocks me. I wish it would have just burnt away with all the rest of my hope after that night. But I don't get a reprieve, not when I am awake and certainly not when I sleep. Every dream is the same, he kills me and I feel that blinding pain all over again. And suddenly I'm awake and all that greets me is the fucking string. And I cry, and sob despite hating myself for it. Because why should I waste a breath on him? The energy? Because fucking fate tied me to some bastard. Made me love him. Won't let me stop, no matter how much I want to bury it. To cleave the string between us. That some innate part of me, something in my bones pulls me to him. Cares for him, still worries over his safety. Cauldron what have I done to deserve any of this?

_________________________________________

I'm asleep when the Attor comes, yanking me from the same dream I've had every night for a month. I should be grateful, I had just reached the worst part when I was startled awake. It saved me from the blistering pain at least. I'm dragged from my cell but I'm not brought to an audience but to a lone room with only Amarantha residing in it. I'm thrown to her feet by the Attor as she says,

“Leave us.”

I hear the door slide shut behind me, as Amarantha’s hand grips my hair and yanks my head back to look up at her. My scalp burns with the pull. She peers at my face, studying me as I give her no reaction. Not because I can't give her the satisfaction but because I'm long past caring about pain. She pauses before her lips curl into a cruel smile as she releases me. Then she laughs,

“I was wondering how long it would take. I'll admit I thought you would have held out longer. It's only been ten years, I expected more after the move you pulled to protect your court and that disappointment of a brother,” she sighs, shaking her head, “I thought I saw something in you after that night, a worthy opponent. Someone who wouldn't break so easily, yet you've disappointed me. Now I really wish I could get rid of you, you've ruined all my fun.” She steps past me toward the door behind us, her footsteps slow.

“Perhaps I should just swap you out for your brother, test if that magic runs through both of you. Or maybe I should visit Winter? I hear it's stunning this time of year.”

Rage floods my mind thinking of what she would do, no, I won't let it. My eyes snap up as I twist towards her. Standing before approaching her slowly. The air around us chills, as my magic, seeps out of me. Aching to be let free of the hold Amarantha has on it.

“You didn't break me, you want a worthy opponent, you have one.” I snarl, she doesn't get the pleasure of thinking she broke me. And I certainly won't let her hurt my brother or my court because she thinks she did.

She smirks, “There is that chilling resolve, I've grown to admire. I could have made you a queen in your own right. It's such a shame you have to care for such weak individuals.”

Then I feel it, her magic, as it sweeps over me, consuming me. I gasp trying to get air as I fall to my knees. My lungs burn and spasm, seeking air as I slump to the floor. My vision darkens, as she steps over me, leaning in,

“I will break you.”

Tags: @legionsofthehungry @momlo

#acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #acotar series #sarah j maas

20 notes · View notes

luvyanfei · 4 years ago

Text

anon said. how about fluffy hcs with xiao, zhongli and xingqui taking their s/o out on a first date?

XIAO.

he already finds it difficult just to ask you to hold him without losing his cool, so how can he possibly bring up the idea of inviting you on a date? actually, he probably never knew the word ‘date’ even existed until he heard a passing couple staying over at wangshu inn dreamily talking about how they wish they could go to see the lantern rite festival in liyue harbor together for their first date. a first date, huh? now that he thinks about it, xiao never did properly try to court you, did he? it was always you who approached him first, who held your hand out to him, who confessed that you love him. you’re already giving so much dedication in this relationship. it’s the least he can do to return your affections, not just because he’s feeling a bit indebted, but because he’s your lover. unfortunately, being the awkward yaksha that he is, xiao overthinks the situation and complicates it more than he should.

every chance he gets is blown up by his anxiousness. whenever you come and visit him at the inn, you almost think that he’s angry with you from the way he throws you vicious glares. unbeknownst to you, xiao is actually making that tense face because he’s trying very hard, too hard in fact, to think of the best way to ask you out on a date and seeing you just makes him all the more nervous. he regrets it every time you step into the elevator while giving him a goodbye wave and saying you’ll come visit again. sure, he gets another chance to try and ask you out again, but he also has another chance to fail as well.

when you visit him for lunch, xiao quickly rehearses the words he wants to say to you in the back of his head before coming to greet you. ‘i overheard from a guest in the inn talking about a lantern rite festival. if you mortal, no, [name], desires to go, i can possibly set aside time to accompany you.’ keep it cool, yet short. taking a deep breath to compose himself, xiao walks over to greet you, er, well actually, you’re the one doing the greeting instead, and you settle down to eat. the sweet taste of the almond tofu that you generously bought for him blossoms in his mouth and he loses track of time till your departure. before you leave once more to allow the poor yaksha to wallow in his self-regret again, you stop yourself and turn around to face xiao. tucking your hair behind your ear and giving your best, most radiant smile you can offer to him, you shyly ask if he’d like to tag along with you to the lantern rite festival. “we’ve never been on a date before and i’d love to go to the festival with you and release xiao lanterns together.”

... what? how? his mouth almost opens up in disbelief, as he struggles to keep a stoic expression. ex-excuse him?! that’s supposed to be his line! he’s in shock at how easily you were able to say something that he’s been having trouble sputtering out. you mortals never fail to surprise him. he shakes his head and bitterly scowls, that you almost step back in fright. almost, until he starts speaking, that is. “why is it you? i should have been the one to ask you on a date first, not you!” he’s almost on the brink of tears from the frustration he currently holds on himself.

a relationship is always about give and take, no? it’s like when zhongli has so kindly decided to save him from the clutches of the cruel abuse he endured endlessly, of course he was forever in debt to rex lapis. surely, it’s the same with you, isn’t it? when xiao tells you this, you immediately start laughing. you calmly explain to him that your relationship isn’t like a form of contract where he’s expected to always repay you back for every gift you give to him. as long as he’s there for you, that’s more than enough of a reward, you say, before plopping a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“finally, you’re here. what took you so long?” xiao speaks to you with indifference concealing the relief that you actually came. he trails his sharp eyes to inspect your dressed up form and blushes slightly. “you look nice.”

immediately, your eyes widen at his underhanded compliment. did- did you hear that right? biting his lower lip gently, xiao clasps your hand in his, ignoring your astounded reaction, as he squeezes it reassuringly while watching the colourful fireworks light up the murky night.

without thinking, he turns to you when you’re focused on the display of bursting lights reflecting in your eyes, and murmurs to himself softly, “i hope you’ll spend the rest of your time with me, for however long it’ll last.”

XINGQIU.

of course, a date with xingqiu has to be extravagant and sophisticated to the last touch, right? guess again. he may come from a wealthy family, but that doesn’t mean he shares the same interest a selfish, pampered noble may have. he prefers something more simple, yet sentimental. confined in his household with nothing to do but bury his head in a book, he’s picked up some ideas for your date from the romance stories he’s read. surprisingly, they’re all rather cliché.

the first thing he makes you guys do is go out in the blazing summer day to get yourselves a cool beverage. he explicitly asks the cashier to give him one straw [do they even exist in the game?] and smiles slyly as he thanks them and brings the drinks to you. when you ask about it, thinking that maybe he forgot, all he does is smirk before saying, “there’s no need, my liege. we can share, unless you’d rather melt in the sweltering sun, that is.” he winks teasingly. you... don’t really have much of a choice in the matter. as you stroll around the harbor together, you take turns drinking from the only straw and a wave of consciousness washes over you gradually. wait, isn’t this like an indirect kiss? you place a hand to your gaping mouth after sucking on the straw that xingqiu pressed his lips on merely seconds ago. you should know by now, how bold he is underneath his polite façade.

after you finish sipping your drink - tediously at that, you both agree on going to the library to read books together since the heat is pretty unbearable to do anything enjoyable. xingqiu recommends you to try reading some of his personal favorites and you do the same as well. he’s thrilled to have a reading buddy now since it’s boring being here by himself.

while you’re immersed in the novel that you randomly picked from the bookshelf, every now and then, xingqiu will look up from the pages of his book and faintly smile to himself, glad that you’re enjoying yourself.

the sun was setting and the stars started to appear in the pastel pink and orange of the evening sky. you place back the last book and stretch your arms, before turning to xingqiu. sighing, you give him a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek and softly say your farewell.

as you’re about to make your leave for the day, xingqiu halts you with his words, “wait. there’s something i need to do before we can end this date.” nonchalantly, he plucks a book from its shelf, opens its pages, and uses it to block the sunlight drifting through the transparent window glass, effectively shielding his vision from the public eye as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

his free hand finds its way combing through the back of your head to deepen the kiss. when he’s satisfied enough, the boy detaches his lips from yours and lightly rubs the flesh of your cheek with a finger, while placing the book down on a nearby table. you keep your eyes fixated on him as he licks the edges of his lips.

“that felt nice,” xingqiu murmurs, “you’re so sweet, i’d hate for anyone else to savor in this pleasant moment with you other than i. shall we continue this again on our next date too?”

ZHONGLI.

the first thing he does is make sure to bring mora, this time. it would be highly inconsiderate of mr. zhongli to have you pay for the expenses of this fine date. he’s one to take things nice and slow. sure, time is unfortunately measured and limited, but he wants to make the most of it with you, a mortal who, just like any other being, has a beginning and end to your life. zhongli wants to shower you in all the beauty and joy this world has to offer while you’re still here with him.

he may be a gentle-spoken and polite individual, but please don’t mistaken him as being shy in any way. he shows up to your residence one afternoon and presents you a bouquet of your preferred flowers while he asks if you would consider accompanying him on a date. you take the bundled up flowers, carefully stroking a petal as if it’s made of fragile glass and accepts his proposal with open arms.

he takes you out to an expensive restaurant in the night of liyue and helps you select the best dishes. after you’re finished with your lavish and sophisticated meals, zhongli ushers you outside where you’re greeted with fresh air, a contrast to the suffocation you felt back at the restaurant. sure, the place is grand and your hunger is well-satiated, yet despite wearing your best clothing, you felt out of place there, like a commoner surrounded by nobles.

when you express your earlier discomfort to zhongli, his eyes are filled with shame and he’s already apologizing like the gentleman he is. guiltily, you tell him it’s fine and you ask if you can show him something before you have to head on home. he ponders in thought before agreeing, walking hand in hand with you to your unknown destination.

the chilling night breeze bites at your bare skin as you instantly shiver. this doesn’t go unnoticed in zhongli’s sharp eyes and he’s already unbuttoning his jacket. he drapes the coat over your shoulder blades and rubs his gloved hands on your cold fingertips to preserve warmth. “are you feeling cold perhaps? maybe we should head back?” you stop him before he can guide you back to the harbor.

“i’m okay now. thank you for your concern.” you say to ease his poor mind. he nods and you both continue on. the walk uphill takes a while, but it’s worth it when you finally reach the top. your eyes widen in amazement as you witness the glimmering stars splayed across the pitch darkness of the sky. “zhongli, look. do you like it?” he simply nods, but all of his attention is focused on you.

zhongli grins down at your childishly excited face, pausing for a hesitant minute before he carefully places his hands on top of your shoulders. you look up at him in confusion and is about to question him, but any sound that comes out is cut off by his lips ensnaring yours in a kiss. you’re astounded by his intimate move, but you revel in his touch in a matter of seconds.

he hopes, as he tightens his hold, that you’ll stay with him always, till your last breath.

tagging. @scarymoosh

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #xingqiu x reader #xiao x reader

649 notes · View notes

sa-gt-tarrius · 3 years ago

Text

Thank you anon for oiling my brain gears……. I call this the Rattatiniest Tourneybout

Credit for the Ratattorney AU goes to @spirit-small I hope you’re ok with me posting this dvsksvsk

Maya was careful to avoid eye contact with random passerby as she sped down the courthouse hallway. Snatching a not-guilty verdict from the jaws of defeat had taken a lot out of her, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Phoenix since the verdict was handed down.

So there she was, searching for a secluded place to speak with the borrower currently perched on her shoulder. It was too dangerous to converse in the open, after all—especially with so many prying eyes around. Hidden behind Maya’s locks of hair, the man’s tiny hands gripped her robes for balance. He remained silent as Maya continued speed-walking.

A sign pointing to the courthouse bathrooms caught her eye. She turned the corner, ignoring a nearby bailiff, and shoved herself into the farthest stall from the door. It was hardly the perfect place to chat, but it was safer than anyplace else and would suffice for the moment.

“Nice job out there, Maya!” Phoenix whispered a quiet cheer into Maya’s ear. He grasped her robes to keep himself steady, which only slightly offset his excited bouncing. “I thought we were done for, but you really pulled through.”

“I don’t know how lawyers do this full-time,” Maya sighed, collapsing onto the closed toilet seat. She reached behind her ear, holding her hand flat for Phoenix to step onto. “But it’s worth it, you know? I think our client was about to cry tears of joy.”

When she retracted her hand, Phoenix stood atop it, grinning widely. His face was flushed from embarrassment and adrenaline, but his eyes glimmered with pride nonetheless. “Yeah… we did great today. Burgers to celebrate?”

“You read my mind.” Maya fumbled for her cellphone. “Maybe Edgeworth wants to come with us!”

Phoenix shook his head and laughed. “No way he wants to buy you food after losing so badly.”

“He can’t say no to this face,” Maya replied with a cheeky grin. She began punching Miles Edgeworth’s phone number into the keypad, wondering what kind of burger she should order. The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hey, Edgeworth! Wanna meet us in the lobby for burgers?”

“Miss Fey,” Miles hissed from the other end, ignoring her question and sounding incredibly irate all of a sudden. Perhaps he was upset about losing the trial? “Tell me… has Wright suffered any major head injuries recently?”

Maya glanced down at Phoenix, who shrugged in reply. “Uh, no,” she told Miles. “Not that I know of.”

“Then could you explain to me,” Miles continued, every word laced with fury and anger, “why I found him wandering in the open? In the lobby, no less?”

“Huh?” Maya scratched her head, as if it would help her figure out what the hell Miles was talking about. From his spot on her palm, Phoenix appeared to be just as confused as she was. He could only offer a puzzled stare. “Nick knows better than that,” Maya said slowly. “He wouldn’t—”

Miles cut her off, his words rising in pitch until his voice cracked. “Well, he did! He was almost found by Payne of all people, and I shudder to think how that could have gone!” He sucked in a sharp breath, evidently trying to calm himself down. “Come to the lobby. I have Wright with me and I’m taking you both home. Now.”

With no further fanfare or explanation, the line went dead. Miles had hung up on them. Maya stared at the phone with a puzzled expression before turning her attention back to Phoenix. “Huh? Edgeworth has… you?”

Phoenix simply shrugged again.

***

When Maya returned to the lobby, Miles was silent at first. He simply motioned for the girl to follow him to the parking lot, and although his face remained carefully blank, there was a wild panic in his eyes that betrayed how he really felt. Maya trailed him without complaint, and they stayed silent until they were in the safety of Miles’ car.

That’s when hell broke loose.

“You’ve spoken to me at length about the importance of staying hidden,” Miles growled, slamming his hands hard onto the steering wheel. “I took great care in keeping your existence a secret from the courts. I’ve overlooked countless crimes just so you can practice law!”

Maya winced at the volume. She stuck a finger into her ear and scowled. “Edgeworth, what—”

“You could have gotten Miss Fey into serious trouble, you know. You could have gotten her arrested! What happened to being careful?!”

At first, Maya had been annoyed at being yelled at for seemingly no reason, but seeing Miles in his half-angry, half-panicked state was strangely fascinating . He never once looked at her (or even in Phoenix’s general direction, although he was still hidden behind her hair). In fact, he never once looked up—his gaze was kept locked downwards, avoiding both Maya’s and Phoenix’s eyes.

How curious.

Apparently, though, Phoenix had already heard enough. He jumped off Maya’s shoulder, landing on her knee with a soft thud. “Edgeworth, what do you take me for? Of course I’m careful.” Miles flinched a bit, blinking at Phoenix with buggy eyes. Phoenix simply folded his arms and curled an eyebrow, unimpressed and annoyed with Miles’ odd behaviour. “Maya was with me all day. I wasn't by myself for a second.”

“But… We… But y—you were…” Miles devolved into incoherent sputters, glancing between Phoenix and Maya rapidly. It seemed like it was the prosecutor’s turn to be utterly confused. “B—but we were… just…”

“Edgeworth,” Maya pressed, taking advantage of the quiet to speak up. “What’s going on? Why are you being so weird?”

Miles didn’t answer her. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he once again fixed his gaze downwards. “…Is every borrower named Phoenix Wright?” he breathed, his voice strangled.

“What’s a borrower?” a faint new voice asked nervously, and to Maya’s surprise, something in Miles’ breast pocket began to shift and squirm. He wasn’t talking to Maya. He was talking to his pocket. Or at least, whatever was inside it.

Miles scowled. “What do you mean, what’s a borrower? And how do you know my name if you’re not Wright?!”

Phoenix let his arms fall limply to his sides. He climbed around the stickshift and onto Miles’ leg, cocking his head at the new presence in the car. Maya shifted around so she could face Miles fully. They both looked on with varying degrees of uncertainty.

“I—I… I’m sorry, I’m just a bit confused,” the new voice continued, stammering over its words. “Why are we at the courthouse? Did I fall asleep?”

“Edgeworth,” Phoenix said suddenly, looking rather grim. “I think you kidnapped a borrower.”

“But he’s you!” Miles shouted. It took all of Maya’s effort not to wince from the volume spike. “I’m not blind, I wouldn’t just kidnap a random borrower!”

“Let him out,” Phoenix said simply. “I’ll handle this.”

Miles tried to protest, but gave up halfway through a sputtered first word when Phoenix shot him a look. Hesitantly, he reached a hand into his pocket. He carefully gathered up a mess of blue limbs—a tiny person—and set them down in his lap. Phoenix gasped sharply, and Maya found herself gaping like a fish.

Miles wasn’t kidding—the resemblance was uncanny.

The borrower’s hair jutted backwards, seemingly sharp to the touch, and his suit was crisp and well-pressed—not to mention expertly made. But other than that, the little man fumbling for a foothold atop Miles’ leg was eerily similar to Phoenix. Even their heterochromatic eyes were identical—brown and blue, and wide as saucers.

The strange borrower didn’t fully register Phoenix’s presence until he’d accidentally stumbled and fallen forwards, collapsing into Phoenix’s chest and sending them both sprawling onto the nearby armrest. “Crap,” the man whispered apologetically, fumbling for something to hold onto. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Phoenix blinked rapidly, alternating his bewildered gaze between the new borrower and a rather helpless-looking Miles. “I’m fine,” he eventually settled on saying, shoving the man off his chest and rising to his feet. He paced around the spot the other man sat, gripping his forehead with his hand. “You’re… You’re a…”

“I can’t believe that stupid machine zapped another person. If the doctor wasn’t already dead, I would have killed him myself.” The borrower shakily rose to a stand, focusing more on steadying himself than anything else. “And when we get back to normal, I’m throwing that piece of junk into a volcano.”

Doctor? Machine? Maya was beginning to wonder if the borrower had hit his head at some point.

“My name is Phoenix Wright,” he continued, brushing dust off his suit and turning to face Phoenix for an introduction. He stuck his hand out and finally looked at Phoenix’s face.

“What about you? What’s your—n–ngh?!”

The man suddenly choked on his tongue, his eyes bugging out comically. It seemed that he finally realized what everyone else had already noticed. “Y—you’re me!” he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger in Phoenix’s direction. “What the hell?! You’re… y—you’re me!”

“That’s what we’ve been saying,” Maya said carefully, her face scrunched up in confusion. “Who are you? Are you a borrower, too?”

The answer to Maya’s question was the borrower promptly passing out where he stood.

#this kinda got away from me. it was supposed to be a oneshot but this is only half of what I’ve written so far #might post the rest eventually #giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #gt #mywriting #the rattatiniest tourneybout #I’m so proud of the name dksgksgs

39 notes · View notes

hyperfigations · 2 years ago

Text

Hacketteer's Campfire Tag!

OG by the lovely person who tagged me: @lowonmelatonin

1. First things first, how did you get into writing/drawing fan content (this doesn’t have to be specific to The Quarry)?

LMAO, It all started with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and that terrible Leonardo x Reader fanfic I made that I will never reveal. Down hill since then.

2. What was the first thing you wrote/drew for The Quarry?

My first TQ Fanfic was Hallucinations! It was the first fanfic I wrote in 2 years! I was very proud with how it came out.

3. What is a work you’ve done that you are the most proud of?

Hmmm.... Idk haha. I am proud that I started writing again but I've kinda fallen a bit flat with my works. Tryna work on that. I guess my fanfic No One Escapes From Life Alive is the one I love the most.

4. Name a favourite trope you like to draw, read or write.

Angst. I love love love Angst. Most Major Character Death. Idk why LMAO. That or like protective lovers type thing. Makes me all giddy.

5. Is there any specific character/scenarios/ships in The Quarry that is a go-to of yours to write/draw about?

Usually Radioheads/Rylan. I tend to write more angsty type stuff that or pure fluff. No in-between.

6. Has there ever been a time when creating a piece that you’re just like ‘I can’t do this’, but have pushed yourself through it and been extremely proud of the end result?

The prologue to my fic No Escapes From Life Alive for sure! First time writing gore/horror! So I was like not having fun while writing cuz I was like "welp, this is pure shit" but I liked the way it came out!

7. What is one specific thing you love about creating fan content for The Quarry?

THE COMMENTS! Lord, the comments?!?!?! I love seeing people's reactions to my work. I know that is vain as hell but GODDDD any comment/feedback just makes me so freaking happy. I want to grow and be inspired and those comments just drive me!

8. Is there any specific routine you have to get into before creating said work, if so, what?

I get a vanilla iced coffee, pop on my specific playlist and go ham. LMAO. It has to be super super late like 3 to 4 am. Something about writing at those times is just soooo yeaahhhh

9. Any current/future WIPs that you would like to share with us?

Haven't finished No One Escapes from Life Alive! I also have a silly Killer Klown TQ AU called Funny Side Up. I am also going to (hopefully soon) be working on a Hocus Pocus TQ AU called Just a Bunch Of Hocus Pocus AND a Blygbank Jennifer's Body AU!

10. What do you tend to do when you’re stuck in a creative rut?

legit just wait it out. Which is terrible but yeah.

11. Any advice for newcomers to The Quarry fandom?

Make friends with people in the fandom! I know it's terrifying. I suck at social interaction but this silly game is helping me come out of my shell a little. Love it for that LMAO.

12. Name your favourite memory about creating fan content for The Quarry.

My FAVORITE FUCKING MEMORY was when the AMAZING @homohaamu DREW FUCKING ART OF ONE OF MY SCENES IN NO ONE ESCAPES FROM LIFE ALIVE!!! Dude, when I tell you sobbed myself from joy to sleep that night, I mean it. It was just so AGHHHHHHHH Idk how to describe how fucking happy I felt.

Anyways, Thank you for tagging me! So freaking fun!!! I won't tag anyone BUT if you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged LMAO!!!

#The Quarry #The Quarry Tag

8 notes · View notes

redheadsinmybed · 4 years ago

Text

Loving a little

Wanda x Female reader

Description: Wanda and reader are an established couple. Reader is a little but hasn’t told Wanda yet. What happens when Wanda and reader are cuddling and reader drops??? (This is a caregiver/little story)

Notes: So I guess I’m a tumblr-er now. This is my first fanfic that I wrote, you can find the series on Archive Of Our Own, it’s called “Loving a little” by dani6279 (that’s me) anyways I don’t exactly know how this all works yet so forgive me if I do something wrong, anyway hope you enjoy!!

Chapter one: Drop

Currently you and Wanda are cuddling in her bed at the avengers compound. You both decided that after breakfast you guys were going to spend some time together since Wanda and you were both away on missions when the other was at home.

You love times like these wishing they would last forever. Lost in thought as you count the freckles on Wanda's face she asks you

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Sure she could just as easily read your thoughts, but she promised you that she wouldn’t without your permission.

You were thinking of how someone could be so damn beautiful, and how that beautiful person could love you so much.

But after hearing Wanda calling you ‘baby’ you start to feel yourself slip. You fight it though because you haven’t told Wanda that you were a little.

You know that she is a caregiver without a little, but you don’t know if she wants one and you don’t want her to think of you as a responsibility rather than a girlfriend that can manage herself.

“I was just thinking about how beautiful you are and how lucky I am to have you” you say, which isn’t a lie.

You love Wanda so much you couldn’t bear to lose her. You are so scared that if she found out you were a little that she would break it off with you because she didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of one. So you keep it a secret.

“Awww, baby girl you're so sweet, but I’m the lucky one” Wanda coos at you. At those two words you drop not being able to hold on any longer. You look up at Wanda with big eyes and start to cry. Worried that now she won’t want to be with you.

“Please please don’t leave me. I promise I'll do better! I can do better, please I’m sorry” You plead as you jump out of her arms, tears stream down your face. Wanda being the best girlfriend anyone could ask for knew that you were a little even though you never told her.

Being a caregiver she could read the signs in the way you did things, and the fact that your eyes gave it away whenever she would call you ‘baby’. Therefore, she used the word ‘baby girl’ to try and get you to drop, and it worked.

“Hey it’s okay baby girl, I’m not going to leave you. I'm right here” she said while trying to get you to calm down. “Baby look at me” she says while cupping your face with her hands trying to get you to look at her.

When you look into her eyes you don’t see rejection or disgust, all you see is love and care.

“That’s it baby, you're okay, you’re okay mama’s got you” she says as she holds you so your ear is pressed over her heart.

Listening to Wanda’s heartbeat is something you’ve always loved, it helps you calm down and lets you know that you’re safe.

“I’m sorry” you say through sniffles.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay” Wanda says as she rocks back and forth slowly making you sleepy “I’m not gonna leave you, baby girl” Wanda assures you.

You sit in silence for a while just listening to the beating of her heart. Your eyes are starting to get heavy, but you fight it.

Wanda notices right away, “It’s okay baby girl, close your eyes mama’s got you” You look up at her and see love just like you did before.

That’s all you need as you put your head back on her chest, “Mama loves you baby girl” is the last thing you hear before her heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

Chapter two: Home

When you wake you are still in your little state and realize that you are no longer being held by Wanda. Panic sets in as you look around the room for her.

Finding her nowhere you start to cry. Thinking that she left you without even saying goodbye.

Wanda had gone out to get some food, knowing that you would probably be hungry when you woke. After putting the food in the kitchen and marking it with a sticky note that had ‘Y/N and Wanda’ on it knowing that one of the avengers would eat it up if she didn’t she made her way back to her room.

Making her way back to her room, she heard crying that she instantly knew was coming from you. Rushing into her room she found you curled up into a ball shaking, knees to your chest and sobs wracking your body.

You didn’t hear Wanda coming in over your cries too caught up in your own thoughts. Although you saw all the love in her eyes earlier you couldn't help but think that maybe it wasn't real and it was just your imagination.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Wanda asked while coming to your side.

“I-I thought y- you left me,” you say through tears.

“Oh, baby girl” Wanda says softly, sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t going to leave you. Wanda knew you were insecure about a lot of things, but she wanted to make it clear to you that she wasn’t going to leave you.

“Baby, mama will be here as long as you want me. I’m not going to leave you, I promise. Mama was just getting some food for you.” Wanda promises you.

You can hear that she’s speaking whole heartedly. So you give her a small smile. Wanda cups your face. You lean into the touch of her hand as she wipes your tears away. When she’s done she lets her hand linger just for you.

“Mama” You say to yourself softly as if trying it out for the first time to see how it felt. You look up at her and she has a soft expression on her face.

“My mama?” You ask her hopefully.

“Yes baby girl your mama” Wanda says with a smile. You smile back at her and climb into her lap wrapping yourself around her like a koala. You lay your head in the crook of her neck and she wraps her arms around you.

You and your new mama sit like that for a while, on the floor content to just be in eachothers arms, until your stomach grumbles and growls.

Wanda unwraps her arms from you and laughs when you whine in protest.

“Come on baby, mama got you chicken tendies” She says while she stands and holds out a hand for you.

You whine again tugging on her arm wanting to be carried by her.

“What? Do you want mama to carry you?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head signaling that you indeed do want mama to carry you. When she picks you up you lay your head on her shoulder and suck on your thumb.

You guys make your way down to the kitchen, although it was only 4:30 and the rest of the avengers usually ate around 5, everyone was in the kitchen.

You knew Wanda accepted you, but you were afraid the rest of the team wouldn’t. You were a part of the team and you always felt like you were loved by everyone, they were like a big loving family to you, but as you and Wanda entered the kitchen everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you two.

You know that Tony, the famous Iron Man, was a little and that Pepper is his caregiver. You also know that Steve is a little and Bucky is his caregiver. Natasha is a caregiver but doesn’t have a little of her own, and so is Bruce. Thor is an Asgardian, so it doesn’t apply to him.

Right now though everyone is big. None of the team says anything waiting for you or Wanda to say something first.

“Hi guys” Wanda says to break the silence. You, still on her hip sucking your thumb, hide your face in her neck.

“What’s wrong baby? It’s just the team” Wanda whispers to you.

“Scared mama” you whisper into her neck. You tense when you feel a hand on your back that wasn't your mamas.

“Hey Y/N it’s okay it’s just Nat” You hear Nat say. You’ve always liked Nat, her being your second favorite on the team just after Wanda.

Wanda had texted Natasha and the team about you when she went out to get your food. The spy of course already assumed that you were a little since you always seemed interested when Tony or Steve switched. Nat had gotten you a stuffed koala after she heard the news.

“I got something for you Y/N, and I think you’ll really like it,” Nat said with the stuffed koala behind her back. You look up at her with questioning eyes.

Nat laughs when she sees how you react. When you see the stuffed animal your eyes go wide with excitement. Not only does this mean that you’re being accepted, but also now you have your first stuffed animal.

You make grabby hands toward the grey koala bear. Nat gives you the bear and you feel how soft and fluffy it is, you make a sound that can only be described as a squeal.

“What do you say baby girl?” Mama asks you after you safely have the bear in your arms

“Thank you, thank you!” You say happily and all the avengers around you laugh at your cuteness.

“She is so fluffy. Mama can we name her Bunny?” You ask with big pleading eyes.

“Of course we can name her Bunny,” Wanda assures you. After you see that no one leaves or has looks of disgust on their faces you relax in Wanda's hold.

“You wanna say hi to everyone baby?’ Wanda asks after she feels you relax.

“Hi,” you say shyly.

“Hello Y/N,” Tony says to you, “I want you to know that we all like you for who you are, and you don’t have to hide from us. We all accept you and we are here to stay” Tony says as everyone is nodding their heads in agreement.

“Thank you,” you say as tears of joy start to prick at your eyes. All this time you were afraid of everyone leaving you because you were little. But you had nothing to worry about. You see now that the people you call family truly love you. And that here you can finally call this place your home.

#wanda maximoff x reader #writing #wanda maximoff #female reader #little space #age regression #caregiver #fanfic #Loving a little #natasha romonova #wanda maximoff x you

200 notes · View notes

saintorchid · 4 years ago

Text

2:37 am

Lately, your dreams have been…interesting. Usually, they would be about getting a new promotion at your job or going on vacation with your lover, Nanami Kento. Right now, sleeping right next to Nanami, your current dream is getting hotter.

_______________

A/N: It’s Nanami Kento brainrot time. As always...minors DNI!!!

Warnings: sex

_______________

Nanami slides his hands under your shirt, softly caressing the flesh beneath him. In slow circles making sure to feel every inch of your skin. His hands travel to your budding breasts, pinching your nipples them making them even harder. You softly moan, feeling yourself getting even more aroused.

You feel Nanami nibbling your ear and whisper sweet nothings, which illicit quite a reaction from you.

"Do you like it when I touch your breasts?”

"You acting like this makes me want you even more.”

"Is my baby needy? Do you need to see stars, Don't worry, baby, I'll make you see stars.”

You feel his hands slowly making his way down to the place that has been aching for his touch. He cups your pussy slowly, using his fingers to rub up and down your folds. You feel him slowly dip his finger inside, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl, but it's not enough.

In a desperate voice, you plead to him, "Nanami, please, I need you."

You rub your ass against his hardened member, trying to beg him to relieve some of the tension building up in your lower stomach.

He groans in your ear, letting you know that he is also needy for you. The way you are squirming and writhing under his touch makes him feel like he is on top of the world. Only he can do this to you and only you.

His touches, the way that he smells stills like his cologne, and his voice, oh god, his voice.

His voice lights up your body in ways you never knew. He could tell you what happened in the news, and you'll find it to be the sexiest thing on the planet to the point where you could come to only listening to his voice.

He adds another finger hitting that spongy spot that makes your eyes water. You ride against his fingers, trying to reach nirvana. He continues, you start breathing heavily, "Nanami, I'm almost there, please."

He takes out his fingers covered in your slick juices and uses them to turn your head towards his face. He commands you to lift your leg; you follow his order and lift your leg into the air.

You soon felt his member slide on top of your leg, touching your desperate pussy. He slowly puts your other leg down on top of his hardened member. He was now sandwiched between your thighs. You enjoy the feeling of him between your thighs, but your thoughts are interrupted by his sudden powerful thrusts. Pre-cum starts leaking on your thigh then falling onto the bed. His hands squeeze your thighs, giving them a nice pleasurable pain. You start touching your clit, which immediately makes you squeeze your thighs even harder. Nanami thrusts faster, and you rub your clit with more pressure. Both of you were about to chase your high, but as soon as you were about to orgasm, something shook your body awake.

You whine at the sudden loss of your dream. You blinked your tiredness away and asking yourself, "Huh wh-what time is it?"

"It's 2:37 in the morning," said Nanami while tugging your body closer to his like two puzzle pieces that fit snugly together.

Now wide awake, you immediately apologized to your boyfriend, who was also awake. Usually, he sleeps like a rock due to his job as a sorcerer, but something was up.

"Honey, what were you dreaming about?"

You answered timidly, "Oh, you know mundane things like doing groceries and folding laundry."

Lie. Nanami knew what you were dreaming about. How? Because you kept rubbing against his cock, moaning his name like a mantra, "Nanami, Nanami, Nanami," each one becoming more breathless than the other.

How can he sleep when his baby has been denied pleasure for so long that you dream about him to compensate? He mentally scolds himself but immediately realizes that right now, he can make it up to you.

You were about to apologize for waking him up so early in the morning, but before you could do that, he attacks your neck in sloppy kisses.

You throw your head back, allowing him more access to your neck. He sucks your supple skin making sure to leave a hickey. You usually tell him to put it somewhere where people don't see, but this was your punishment for lying to him. He wants the world to know that you are his.

"Na-Nanami, don't ah ahhh," you tried to stop him from leaving a mark on your neck, but it was too late. It may not show now but give it time, and a purple patch will appear on your skin.

He continues to another spot on your neck, sucking harshly. He stops for a moment leaning his lips right next to your ear. In a hushed voice, he says, "I'll stop unless you tell me what your dream was about.”

You were so embarrassed, but you were extremely desperate for him. You needed him like the flowers needed water to bloom, and you were more than ready to bloom. You told him everything, not leaving any details. You told him how he pinched your nipples until they became hard and sensitive to his touch. You told him how he inserted his fingers, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. You told him how he was fucking your thighs till his pre-cum leaked onto you and the bed.

He stops kissing your neck and whispers in a sultry voice, "I did all of that in your dream? Well, I better turn your dream into a reality then." He puts on a devilish smile and looks up at your body up and down. The moonlight shines through the window encasing you in a light so soft that it looks like you were sent from the heavens. He probably believes that you were sent from heaven. His life as a sorcerer isn't easy, but knowing that you will be here with him now and in the years to come makes him so happy words can't describe it. Instead, he shows you how much you mean to him.

You turn your head to kiss him, and he kisses you hungrily. Both of you were moaning in each other's mouths. His hand gropes your breasts, flicking your nipple until it hardens under his touch. Everything feels so good. Nanami pulls away, seeing that there is a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

You look into his eyes with a burning passion. "Nanami, I want you now.”

As soon as that last word left your mouth, he lifts your leg and places his member between your thighs. You were in total bliss feeling his hot breath tickle your neck. Knowing that you make him feel this way fills you with joy.

"Baby, I'm gonna need you to touch your pretty little pussy. Can you do that for me?"

You whine out your answer, "Yes, yes, I'll do anything for you, Nanami.”

"Anything? You are so needy, aren't you? Good, because you belong to me. Now scream my name until our neighbors wake up.”

You mentally battled with yourself. There were two choices: wake up your 80-year-old neighbor and her husband or scream Nanami's name until your neighbor scolds you for having sex so early in the morning. Every thrust was making your mind go blank. And you decided to hell with it. You start rubbing your clit now, feeling that pressure builds in your lower stomach. You squeeze your thighs, making Nanami grunt into your ear. You screamed his name with every thrust.

Everything was becoming unbearable. The sounds of sex and moans filled the quiet bedroom. Your orgasm was almost here. "Nanami, I'm so close, so so close." You felt like you were going to explode.

"Cum for me, baby, let me see you drown in pleasure.”

You rub your clit harder, and all of a sudden, your mind went blank. Riding out your orgasm, Nanami's thrusts become erratic. Everything that he feels becomes so overwhelming he indulges in the feeling. His balls tighten, and with one last thrust, he cums all over your thighs.

He pulls out and lays right next to you. Both of you heavily breathing, feeling satisfied. He turns to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and lips.

Both of you were quiet for a few moments until Nanami broke the silence.

"Let me know when you have dreams like that. I would love to recreate them with you."

You let out a laugh while snuggling into his chest. Tiredness crept onto the both of you. You both whispered good night and exchanged 'I love you’s' to each other. Falling asleep in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

It was now 3:24 am.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x y/n #jjk smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #this man lives in my mind rent free

311 notes · View notes

fearfully-fiction · 3 years ago

Text

St. Albans pt.5- Dakota Laden x Reader (finale)

word count: 2110

warnings: fluff, language, THE FINAL PART!

summary: based on season 1 episode 4 of DF, so all credit to the crew, the show, and the channel! the night begins to come to an end and morning comes. Reader and Dakota share in the joy and pride of making it through the night. and it’s time to move forward.

thank you all so much for reading these parts it means so much to me. I’m new at writing for Destination fear and getting the love I’m receiving is amazing. it gives me more motivation to continue! I can’t wait to write more for all of you! I hope you enjoy the last part!

(not my gif!)

Silence hung over you both for a few seconds, before his walkie went off. You both jumped and you let out a yelp. “This is for scaring me…” Chelsea came through. You let out a small laugh.

“You just scared the shit out of me.” He responded to his sister. You could just tell she had a smile on her face. You laughed a bit, trying to hold it back so as to not be too loud. He looked over to where you were. The flashlight illuminated your face as you grinned and bit back laughter. It made a small smile etch onto his face. “Oh, you think this is funny?” he asked you after his sister finished speaking. You muffled your laughs and covered your mouth before shaking your head no. “No, of course not.” your voice strained to keep from letting out a laugh.

“You’re cruel, you know. You got scared too, do you see me laughing?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head with a small smile. “Exactly now, stop laughing at me,” he instructed playfully. He knew damn well that your laugh brought him back and made him forget for a split second that he was in the basement of a haunted abandoned building somewhere in Virginia.

“You know you love me,” you said before leaning over to kiss his temple. “Sadly, you are correct.” he jokingly said.

Some time had passed and Dakota and you were lying down in silence. Nothing else had happened so far and it calmed your mind in the very slightest. Your fingers interlocked with his and you could hear his breathing. It was about enough to make you fall asleep when all of a sudden a loud crash happened and you bolted upright.

“What in the fuck?!” you exclaimed. Dakota flashed his light around the area hurriedly.

Little did you know that Chelsea had heard the same thing that you guys did.

You decided to go ahead and ask seeing as the noise was extremely loud and it could’ve been heard by her too.

“Did you hear that? It was like the really loud metallic noise.” Dakota described what you heard.

“Yeah. Dude, I fricking heard that” She responded sounding just as freaked out as you were.

“I’m having a panic attack. I am so scared down here.” your boyfriend reveals. You rub his back in a comforting motion. “I am so scared,” he spoke once again, making you cringe at the fear in his voice. Your brave Dakota being so scared, it hurt you seeing him this way.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m sleeping,” she said.

“I don’t think we will be either.” you sighed.

“Honestly, I don't know how we’re going to do the rest of this night,” you said.

The rest of the night was just silence and it wasn’t comforting at all, the only reason you weren’t breaking down was because Dakota was with you. If he hadn’t been there you would’ve been a complete mess.

The sun was coming up and it was finally time to leave the building.

You looked at your boyfriend and smile widely. You grabbed his hand and pulled him off of the floor and off to the side. He looked at you in confusion, “What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“We made it through the night. You did it babe.” you smile brightly at him. A big smile came across his lips and he chuckled. “Yeah, we did it. I did it.” he breaths out, relief and joy in his voice were crystal clear and it made your heart skip. You reached out and wrapped your arms around him holding him as closely as possible. He did the same to you and he all of a sudden felt tears on his shirt. He pulled back a little bit and looks down at you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked you and placed his hands on your face. You looked up at him and let out a small broken laugh.

His eyes filled with confusion, “I’m so proud of you. You did it, and I know you’re exhausted but look at you. You did it. You did that. I am so proud of you Dakota.” your voice broke. “It wasn’t just me babe. We did it,” he said and pulled you in close again.

“I love you, Dakota,” you said and he looked down at you, your head was buried in his chest and he kissed your head. You looked up at him with a watery smile you let out a giggle and he leaned down to press his forehead against yours.

He placed his hands on your hips and you moved yours to his cheeks gently. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It was short and sweet and so he went to pull away but you kept him in place and pulled him back down to kiss him again. He brought his hands up and slightly made your shirt ride up his touch made you sigh and relax against him. He smiled against your lips and felt your hands move to drag through his hair. Your lips moved in sync and soon enough you were as close as possible. His tongue dragged lazily along your bottom lip and he felt your lips part sighed into your mouth when he felt your tongue tentatively touch his. He took a chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. The taste of the gum you always chewed lingered in your mouth and it made your heart race knowing he wanted to be this close to you right now. You and he were sharing one breath, and it was like a current of electricity shot through you every time his hold got more firm. You could feel that sense of relief and comfort knowing that you were both there and you were both ok. You pulled away slowly, your breathing was just as heavy as his was, and he opened his eyes to meet your (e/c) eyes. You let out an airy giggle and he did too. “Well, that was unexpected,” he said and you nodded with a big smile.

“Yeah it was, wasn’t it?” you said and you pulled away from him a bit. You stepped away and chuckled. “It was well deserved though,” you said and smiled at him.

“I’ve been dying to do that for days.” his lip quirked into a smirk. “Oh have you?” you questioned playfully with a quirked brow. “I have,” he said and walked closer to you. He stood right in front of you now. “Well there are many things I’ve been dying to do, but you know RV’s aren’t the best settings for the things I want.” you winked and turned to gather your things. He looked at you with wide eyes and crimson cheeks. “Damn it… she’s gonna kill me I swear,” he mumbled to himself before following after you.

“Let’s get out of here babe, I know you’re tired,” you said with a genuine sympathetic smile. “In all seriousness Dakota, I’m here for you, I’m here to take care of you whenever you need me. I know it has been a rough time, and things aren’t going to settle down in your mind for a while but I’m here through all of it. I’ll take care of you I promise.” you spoke with the utmost sincerity. He looked at you with love-filled eyes. He walked over and kissed your head softly. “You know I’m going to do the same to you. I love you (y/n),” he spoke softly.

You and your boyfriend quickly went and gathered your things before heading back up the stairs and meeting with everyone else. You bid everyone a good morning and you all packed away your equipment and headed for the door.

Once the door was opened the sunlight came streaming in and you took in the fresh air. Finally, you were able to leave the place that had affected you all, especially Dakota so badly. You were so proud of everyone for overcoming that fear, but you knew for damn sure you never wanted to see that building again.

All of you sat your things down on the ground and took seats on the steps. You sat one step above Dakota letting your fingers run through his hair comfortingly. He smiled up at you and took your hand and placed a kiss on it.

“That was crazy,” Chelsea stated and you vigorously nodded in agreement. “Yeah that was pretty insane you guys.” you jumped in.

“I’m honestly glad we went back, but I am really glad we never have to come back,” Tanner said.

Chelsea turned her camera and attention toward her brother.

“You had a really rough night.” she pointed out.

“I know,” he responded.

“Yeah. You had a horrible night.” Tanner once again stated the facts.

“I couldn’t sleep. I showed fear. I showed a lot of fear, and I shouldn’t have. That’s like the rule number one and I totally broke it.” he sounded disappointed in himself, but you were so proud he got through it.

“We did it though you guys. You faced your fear Kota, and look where you are now. You completed the night and I am so proud of you. Of all of us.” you said and smiled at them all.

“Me too, and you told me before, that I used to scare you, like, when you weren’t scared. You had that effect on me tonight.” Chelsea described to her brother what she felt.

“I was scaring you?” Dakota asked.

“Like, you scared me. Like I…” she cut herself off. “You freaked me out,” she stated.

You looked down at your boyfriend and continued to run your fingers through his hair knowing that it was a comfort to him just knowing you were there.

“Well, I think we should never come back here again. Cause it fucking sucked.” you blatantly stated and earned a laugh from the people around you which brought a smile to your face.

“I will second that.” Tanner said, “I agree.” Chelsea nodded with a smile.

“So tonight was one of the worst nights I have had so far on this road trip, and just by far in my life. I have seen my friends and my boyfriend scared before but seeing them like this was incredibly difficult. Dakota was hit so hard last night in the bowling alley, it hurt to see him like that, I’ve never seen him that scared before. I don’t ever want to see him that scared again, I don’t want to see any of them as scared as they were last night. I’m just so proud of us for pulling through. I’ll have to make sure to keep a close eye on Dakota right now because I know he isn’t feeling like himself. Hopefully, a little tender love and care will help patch him up a bit.

I’m just glad we never have to go back.”

You finished your ending monologue and walked over to put your camera away.

The RV pulled around the corner and you gathered your gear to put away after you had filmed your solo shots.

Suddenly you felt arms wrap around you from behind and a kiss being placed on your shoulder.

“Hello, my love. How are you feeling right now?” you ask and turn to face him. He looks at you with tired eyes and a sleepy grin. He looked so drained and it upset you to see him this way.

“I’ll be ok. Just not feeling great right now. How are you?” he asked.

“Well, I’m doing alright, I’d be even better if you’d get some rest and let me take care of you until you feel a bit better though,” you said and reached up to move the strand of fallen hair that dangled above his eyebrow.

He smiled shyly, “I think I can manage that.” he said and kissed you before dragging you into the RV. you smiled as he sat down and pulled you into his lap letting his face rest in the crook of your neck so he could place a small kiss on your soft skin. You sighed in content and leaned into him. “Shouldn’t I be the one holding you?” you ask jokingly. “I want to hold you so hush and let it happen,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Whatever am I to do with you Laden?” you asked with a smile. “Love me,” he whispered and held you tighter. “Now that is something I am lucky enough to do.”

Taglist:

@jaziona92

@beautybyfire

@thefandomthings

#dakota laden #dakota laden imagine #gac dakota #dakota laden x reader #dakota laden one shot #dakota laden fluff #dakota laden angst #dakota laden hurt/comfort #Destination Fear #destination fear imagine #destination fear x reader #destination fear trvl channel #destination fear x you #chelsea laden #alex schroeder #Tanner Wiseman #dakota laden fluff imagine #imagines #shy imagines

57 notes · View notes

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 7- Touch Me Under The Stars

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Now that Bucky is finally out of Cryo, the two of you adjust to life in Wakanda.

Warning: fluff, smut (it gets spicy), Bucky being soft

Masterlist

Life in Wakanda was something you could never have ever dreamed of, they literally had everything here. The buildings were huge, the people so interesting and lively, the scenery absolutely breathtaking, and the tech? Out of this fucking world to put it bluntly. Tony Stark who?

Though you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to be fully satisfied with your new corner of the globe, you had a place to exist and feel comfortable in, even a nice apartment overlooking the city that’s attached to where Bucky is currently being held in.

Right. Bucky.

He’s been on your mind as of late, well in actuality he’s been consuming most of your brain processing for the past couple weeks since you and him arrived here with T’Challa and Steve after the mess in Siberia.

Another painful memory added to the already long list of traumatic experiences endured by you throughout these past sixty or so years. But you’re surviving, well enough for the most part that is; you see Steve left soon after Bucky went into the Cryo chamber. Leaving yourself all on your lonesome in a strange new country with no friends but T’Challa.

If you could even consider him a friend.

Who by the way, makes you still feel pretty uncomfortable around considering all the times you beat the shit out of each other in the past, and he thought you and Bucky killed his dad, so it’s been light treading even if he insists it’s all in the past.

On a lighter note you met his little sister Shuri, who upon discovering who you were and what you can do, immediately began marveling at the fact that you have Adamantium claws in your forearms. She was thoroughly impressed and asked for you to cut a lot of random expensive looking objects for scientific purposes only.

Well that’s what she claimed at least. Other then then those two, you’ve been pretty solitary for the most part. Which has really started getting to you recently, something that T’Challa has begun to notice.

That man is too observant for his own good.

Wind rustles the jungle trees from outside this large glass window in the lounging area of King T’Challa’s extravagant home. They sway freely in the open sun as they stretch their great green leaves to the beautiful sky above. But no bout of joy resides in your heart this day, no matter how enticing the weather may appear.

Soon a new presence is felt in the room, though it’s nothing to be alarmed about as he walks to your side, a thoughtful yet concerned expression crossing over his kingly features, “Are you finding your stay here welcoming Y/N?” Wonders T’Challa softy as you slowly blink.

“I am.”

He frowns, you’ve been quit talkative before, but now you barely even speak to anyone, “My friend I know you are not alright. Please tell me what troubles your heart.”

Dammit he’s good.

Sighing, you hug your sides as he patiently awaits an honest answer, frowning, you reluctantly begin, “I thought I would be fine....I’ve always been alone for most of my life anyways. Never counted on anyone but myself. Never needed anyone but myself. That’s how I survived. It’s just now.....I have Bucky. And I care about him more then anything in the world, but he’s gone.......well not really but, you know.” You whisper before turning your head towards some tall trees so that the king cannot see the way that your eyes brim with unshed tears. God the ache you feel for him is almost unbearable.

Understanding your deep sorrow from your lovers absence, T’Challa slowly nods, “I cannot fully express an understanding of your pain, as I have never felt it like the way that you have now. Nor have I lived the life of your own.” He admits as you turn your head to catch him in your peripheral vision, not quit ready to meet his unthreatening gaze.

He swallows before continuing, “But this I do know, you are a warrior if I’ve ever known one, and I know many.” Chuckles the king, “You fight fiercely and love deeply, Bucky should be proud to have you by his side. I may envy that kind of love, though I should not say it, it is true.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek as you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand, “Love.” You whisper softly in thought, “I do love him, yes....very much. I’ve been withdrawn lately, because well, I guess I miss him more then I’d realize I would. I hope your people help him. That’s all I ask for, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You might not be waiting quit that long actually.” Reveals Shuri as her familiar footsteps wander into the large sun-lite room overlooking the jungle, “My team just needs a couple more days with him and he’ll be good to go for the most part. Though the process of fully becoming free from the trigger words may take a little longer....his mind will still need time to heal.” Explains Shuri as she moves to stand on your left, opposite of her half-brother.

At this your heart speeds up with excitement, eyes turning to face the smiling princess , “I don’t want to threaten royalty, but I might break a couple of your lounge chairs if you’re lying to me. I’m not joking.” You add half jokingly as T’Challa lightly chuckles.

“Now I do not doubt that.”

——

Today you’ve been summoned into the lab in preparation for Bucky’s defrosting, claiming that having a familiar face as the first thing he sees was probably the best for when he wakes up again, at least that’s what the doctors told you.

And of course you didn’t even hesitate to say yes. So now here you are in their cleaner then a soap bottle lab, standing nervously a couple feet away from the Cryo chamber as some scientists go about their duties to his left. It’s strange, he looks relatively peaceful and serene, like he’s having a nice little nap while standing upright and covered in frost.

Nonetheless Bucky looks handsome as always, soon a tiny subconscious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you await the aftermath of the defrosting process. A button is hit and the familiar whoosh of the air chamber fills your ears as bouts of warm white steam push up into the air from the bottom and sides of his chamber.

The inside goes foggy before one of the scientists flicks a switch and the glass door pops open to emit a plethora of tiny clouds that float up and dissipate just as quickly. In the aftermath, your eyes search for Bucky, he’s still sleeping and is covered in a couple specks of blue frost, his hair undoubtedly wet from the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Give him a moment, he may be slightly disoriented as the body wakes up again.” Explains Shuri from the doorway as you bite your bottom lip anxiously in anticipation for when he’s finally conscious.

“Right.” You nod in understanding, “Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.” You mutter with a depressing chuckle.

A second later you’re alerted to the sound of someone sucking in a deep breath, immediately your head snaps over to witness as Bucky stirs, his fingers curl back to life as his lips part. Then soon after his two icy blue pools slowly reveal themselves to the rest of the lab as he takes a look around.

Your fists grip tightly onto the fabric of your jacket as Bucky swallows before blinking back the slight blur of waking up from a couple weeks of hibernation. The scientists, Shuri, and you study his movements as Bucky’s brow raises in thought, his eyes only on you.

“How longs it been?” He wonders before taking a step to get out of the Cryo chamber.

“Exactly a month and a half Mr. Barnes.” Chirps Shuri enthusiastically as he nods in understanding before she gives a glance between the two of you, “Alright, I’ll give you and Miss. Valerious some time to catch up while we check your vitals.” Adds the princess before exiting out the door, the other scientists following suit.

Now it’s just you and your Bucky; glancing at the floor, the two of you wander into a semi-awkward silence before he finally breaks the ice, “You look good.” He mutters softly, a small reassuring smile on his pink lips as your eyes trail up to meet his.

Revealing a breathy laugh, you shrug, “Hardly. But you on the other hand, white, I like it. It’s a good color on you.”

His stubbled cheeks flush pink as he smiles brightly, “I think I remember you telling me the exact same thing before I went under.”

“Well I just told you again, because I mean it.”

“Well I like the new style..” Points Bucky to your outfit, “it’s Wakandian but very Y/N.....I like it.”

Shaking your head you begin giggling at his adorable compliment, “Barnes you’re too much....but seriously, how do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Thirsty?”

He smiles, “No, uh....I actually feel pretty good honestly. I could go for something to eat though, I’m starving.”

Walking over you gently take his hand in yours, “Say no more. T’Challa’s got everything here.”

——

After Bucky got readjusted and evaluated by Shuri’s team of incredible scientists and brilliant doctors, Bucky was well on his way to a full recovery from the years of mental torture given to him by Hydra. The words didn’t affect him anymore, the anxiety surrounding the very thought of breaking and turning on everyone again was a thing of the past.

He was your Bucky, completely.

In the following days after, T’Challa found a nice place on the outskirts of the grand city where you and Bucky could lay low and recover for some time as needed. Not wanting to over due your stay in his lavish home, and also wanting to feel the breeze again, you both agreed to live in a little village on the edge of a large pond.

All of it was Wakanda, so neither you nor Bucky stressed any worry that the Romanian and German authorities would come bursting through the front gates to whisk you away for your crimes. Or Tony Stark for that matter, he definitely hates you guys without a doubt in your mind.

Definitly with good reason, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever dare give Bucky up.

But on to greener pastures, it’s truly a possible thing that you’ve never seen Bucky in colors besides black or faded red shirts. But now? He wanders around in the brilliantly beautiful colors of Wakanda and her people with a brighter smile on his lips and lack of one arm for the time being.

Ah yes, the arm.

For the most part he’s been fine about it, though he needs your assistance when getting dressed or when attempting to wash the grime from his growing mane. Although, and fortunately for you, he’s still quit proficient in the area of love making with no decline in performance with lack of one arm, much to your satisfaction and his.

Besides that, it’s amusing, since you’ve been staying in this little friendly village, the kids have begun calling him the White Wolf when they want his attention. Which in turn earns a small smile upon his lips, one because he knows you usually hear it and think it’s adorable, and two it’s probably the first honestly kind thing anyone has ever placed on him, ever.

Walking across the villages center area, past huts and ladies washing some of their tunics, you follow the excited rambling of one of the village children as she talks a mile a minute about how you just have to see this really cool thing right now without exception. So of course you have to see this really cool thing, right now.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come! Faster you’re going to miss it, hurry you’re being slow.” Urges Ryn’a with a wave of her hand as she beckons you to starts running with her.

Heeding to her urgent request, you give her aunt a pursed lip grind before racing after the sprinting child, “This better be very interesting, or I’ll throw you into the water again!” You playfully threaten as she giggles across the grassy field.

Soon you’re crouching behind a rock as she peeks over the stony edge, ducking back down, she gives you a mischievous grin, “The White Wolf doesn’t see us.”

Raising a brow you nod, “This is what you wanted me to see? Him?”

Shaking her head she rolls her dark eyes in amusement, “No. We’re hunting.” She smirks in excitement as your brows furrow in confusion. Huh?

“Uh.....what?” Suddenly you connect the dots, “Are we hunting the White Wolf?” You ask, pretty damn positive that’s where this little adventure is going.

Shaking your shoulder excitedly she squeaks with joy before instantly catching herself and quieting down real quick, “He’s just over this rock. Chopping wood for the fire tonight....we need to hit him with a stick okay, then we run.”

Slowly nodding, your eyes trail over her excited face, “Hmm, okay. But I gotta ask, did Kova put you up to this and I’m now an accomplice?”

Biting her bottom lip, she diverts her gaze to the bushes behind you before mumbling out, “He might have......and if I was to hit the White Wolf on his head without getting caught. I’d get to play the drums for the fire tonight.” She whispers almost embarrassed.

Giving her a kind smile, you gently touch her shoulder in reassurance as she looks to you now, “Well then. Looks like we’re on a wolf hunt today, huh. Lucky for you, I’m great at throwing sticks.”

Immediately she squeals in joy before standing as still as stone, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t think he heard a sound.” You reply, snatching a ruler sized stick from the ground before peeking over the grey sun kissed rock.

There he is, in his red tunic completely oblivious, using a Vibranium axe to chop away at the wood for tonight’s fire dance. Sitting back down, you press your back against the stone as Ryn’a clenches her fists in excited anticipation, “Ready, Y/N?” You nod as she smiles.

“Okay good....don’t miss.” She warns.

“I never miss.” You muse before turning back around, your eyes peek up over the edge and watch as Bucky sets another log on the flat rock, he hauls the axe down, splitting the wood in two.

Setting the axe down again, he walks over to the small log pile before selecting one and setting it back on the flat rock, bending down to grab the axe and when he stands to his full height again...

Smack!

Instantly the dry weather worn stick flies from the back of his head to the ground below as he throws a wary look in your direction. Though he sees absolutely nothing but a big grey rock and some bushes. Touching the back of his head, he looks down and swiftly picks up the relatively unthreatening piece of dried wood.

Studying it like it’s the holy grail and will give him all the answers to eternal life and whatnot, he throws it to the ground before continuing with his duties as you turn back to Ryn’a. “That was a good hit.....can you do it again? Please?” Mutters the little beast as you settle down from that adrenaline rush of perfectly nailing Bucky in the back of his head without getting caught.

Let’s not forget you were one of Hydra’s most deadliest assassins.

Her dark chocolate eyes stare pleadingly and puppy-like as she fake pouts, “Please Y/N? I won’t ever leave another turtle in your house ever again....promise. I promise, please?” She quietly begs as you contain your laughter.

“Yeah alright. But you’re gonna have to run cause he’s probably gonna figure out where the second one came from.” You add with a smirk, “I’ll deal with the wolf after. I can take him.”

“Yes!” She squeaks, “Oh, sorry I mean....yes.” She whispers quietly as you search for a new stick to throw.

Soon enough you find another and cautiously look around the side of the rock this time, there’s Bucky, setting another log on the flat rock before slicing it in half. Instantly the biggest grin pulls your lips into a Cheshire Cat smile as he turns to grab another log.

Smack!

“Hey! Who was that?!” He shouts in confusion as Ryn’a bursts with laughter before booking it back to the safety of the village while you crouch there behind a rock cackling like a child.

God that was such an accurate hit too. And he didn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly you hear the sounds of feet running against the earth, when Bucky makes it to the back of the large rock you’re nowhere to be found. Brows furrowing, he looks at the bushes and then over to the nearby village before shaking his head and turning around to walk back over to his usual duties for the day.

Only now he’s confronted by the casually innocent face of you who’s standing there with the axe slung over your shoulder, “Something scare you Barnes?” You muse with a small laugh before nodding towards the wood, “I mean these logs can be pretty scary I won’t hold it against you. You might have seen a snake, who knows.”

Sauntering back over to you he stands there for a moment just observing your casually calm self, “Why do I have a suspicion you just hit me with a stick. Twice.”

Shrugging, you slam the axe into the dirt before rising up to meet his humored gaze, “Maybe it was a Rhino, maybe it was a little nine year old who needed me to win her a drum. Guess you’ll never know.”

Glancing from the ground then back up to you again, Bucky shakes his head at your theatrical antics, warm smile ghosting across his lips, “Well just so you know it didn’t hurt.” Assures your big tough man with a nod.

“I’ll use a bigger stick next time.” You quip as he takes a step closer to you.

Handsome face breaking out into a beaming grin, “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’m tired of chopping wood.” He says as his fingers ghost against the bare skin of your sleeveless shoulders, “I just want to be with you.”

Touching the side of of his stubbly cheek affectionately, you smile, “Where too? By the pond?” Which causes him to snort a breathy laugh.

“No, I don’t trust you by open water.”

You shrug in agreement, remembering the first time you both arrived here and the children brought you into a splashing fight where you got Bucky’s hair all wet, “Yeah that’s fair.”

——

After enjoying a pleasant evening walk together, eating a delicious traditional Wakandian meal, and watching the performers for the celebration dance and beat on their drums for hours into the night. You and Bucky decided to steal away from the festivities and have a little moment together under the stars, just you and him, nothing and no one else.

“That was nice wasn’t it.” You mutter as he lays on his back next to you, “I like these people. They’re kind.”

Turning his head to meet your shadowed face, he smiles adoringly as you keep a steady gaze set on the stars above, “Well, no ones trying to kill us so I’d say we’re doing alright.”

“We are, aren’t we. Who would have thought that shit huh? Two ex-assassins, two fucked up people like us laying like sappy teenagers under the stars. This almost feels like some stupid romantic film.”

Bucky lets out a proper laugh this time as you send him a humored look, “What? I’m being honest!”

Quickly he rolls onto his side to face you, a new sultry flicker flashing through his dark gaze, “Maybe I like being sappy with you.” He mutters lovingly before trailing a finger across your jaw as you study his face.

“Sappy with me? Why Mr. Barnes are you flirting with me this fine evening?” You muse with a breathy chuckle as he smiles brightly down at you.

“I was hoping you’d notice, is it working?” He asks, a hopeful look in his dark blue eyes.

Leaning closer, he’s pleasantly surprised when you gently press your lips to his, “My God James you’re making me swoon.” You jest before snickering at your shitty old-timey accent replacing the Eastern European one, “Why I’ve never met such a character, now tell me Mr. Barnes, are you a single man?”

Holding in his laughter, he takes a breath before answering, “Doll, I’m taken.”

Gasping in mock surprise, you quickly sit up before pushing him onto his back by both shoulders, your legs to either side of his torso as your faces keep mere inches apart, “Well, well, well how about that.” You slyly tisk, your natural accent dripping heavily as it sends a thrill through Bucky, “Lucky woman indeed. But I can guarantee you, I’m much more enticing.”

Bucky shivers as you lean your body closer to his, your silky hands to either side of his flushed face as you smile a devilish grin in the darkness, “I don’t doubt it.” He rasps, voice just barley above a whisper, lips so close to yours now you could almost taste him.

“I just realized something.” You suddenly mumble against his plush inviting lips.

Bucky hums in reply, to completely and utterly enthralled by your seductive charm to even form a coherent sentence, you smirk before rising to properly sit up against him, “Bucky, you look better in the dark.”

His stomach rises with a deep laugh that rubs pleasingly against your growing warmness as he gently squeezes a hand on your right thigh, “You’re gonna get it for that one.” He muses, appearing like he’s about to flip you over but you’re not having any of that.

Pressing a hand against his firm chest, you suddenly grind your clothed nether regions slowly and meticulously against his lower stomach. He quickly lets out a low guttural moan as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Pulling away, you rest one hand on the thin Wakandian blanket that’s keeping you two from the dirty ground below, your other hand gently trailing down the side of his stubbly face, “Just let me make love to you okay? If you want that i...”

“Yes!” Interrupts Bucky with a great bout of enthusiasm before catching himself, “I mean....uh, yes please.” He mutters, failing to regain his composure as you circle your hips against his fiery skin. Oh, you are certainly enjoying yourself.

Smiling into the half moonlight, your eyes trail cautiously over to the burning village bond-fire a small trek away, seeing everyone laughing and minding their sweet business you then immediately pull your shirt off, your bra following right after just as quickly. Laying discarded on the nearby grass for later; Bucky’s eyes go wide with lust as the outline of your curves and protruding breasts flash like gold in the moonlight.

God you’re so beautiful, he thinks, and all mine.

The smile that Bucky gives you could just about light up a room on the darkest of nights, he wants you, he needs to be consumed by you, to feel you for all that you are. You can see it by the way that he rubs your partially exposed thigh, by the way his eyes never leave yours and when they do it’s to wander around your divine vessel.

He’s never been more in love then in this very moment, if that’s even possible; he’s never really spoken too deeply about it, his time with Hydra. But he’s undoubtedly glad that you found him when you did, he was in a dark place then. Lost and alone, on the run and keeping to the shadows as best he could from the rest of the hungry eyes of the world.

Then one day out of the blue you showed up with nothing but your wits and a kind smile to show you meant no harm, all you wanted was to see him again after all that time apart from your escape and his imprisonment with Hydra. He was sent to kill you, but you came back to him anyways.

He didn’t understand it at first, when he began to realize what falling in love truly felt like, but with time it came to him. At first sight wasn’t something that happened by any means, he was nervous to see you, standing there so innocently in his apartment in Bucharest. He thought he was being careful, he thought he was safe.

But then Hydra’s most prized weapon and most difficult one at that, you, had shown up to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t believe it, but what scared him the most as he let you stay with him, he was slowly but surly beginning to fall in love with you.

Now that was a new feeling he hadn’t felt in decades, you intrigued him, made him laugh with the simplest of offhanded side comments, made him try to be a better person. And most of all you made him feel wanted and loved, and that is something he will always hold dearly to his very heart and soul.

Because as you’ve said to him, you’re his ride or die no exception, you’ll always be there to throw a punch for him or to gather himself in your arms when the darkness threatens to consume him for all he’s worth.

You’re not afraid of him like so many are, you don’t run from danger, oh no, when Bucky’s concerned. You’re ass will fight to exhaustion to keep him safe and alive. Which so far has proved a very useful state of mind in consideration to the past events that have currently led you two on this ever changing roller coaster.

From Bucharest to Berlin, a flight to Siberia and a long skip down to Wakanda; you two will be by each other’s side no matter the distance. Because to put it bluntly, you’re all Bucky has left in the world and Bucky is all you have either, one without the other would be a dreadful existence.

Luckily for you, Bucky’s incredibly alive and doing pretty damn alright all things considered. Also for the current moment, he’s becoming an undone mess underneath you. Which is just what you’ve wanted, he deserves it.

Trailing a fiery pathway of butterfly kisses from his collarbone all the way up to his neck and jawline, Bucky emits a deep groan of pleasure as you palm him through his baggy pants that have started to tent with the pull of his growing hardness.

His lower half is still clothed while your whole body is free for the shimmering stars to bear witness to, and Bucky of course. “Y/N. Please.” He rasps as you feel up his clothed manhood while you grind tirelessly against his bare stomach, the sensation no doubt drawing you into a blissful rising climax to follow.

Stopping your pleasurable attack to his hardened member, you swiftly roll off of him as you decide it’s time to get things rolling, “Alright hot stuff get that shit off, I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

“Give me a sec...” Grunts Bucky as he kicks off his pants into the grass before you help him prepare to slip off his underwear, holding the top rim of the fabric, you generously pull it to his ankles before he kicks them off completely.

He chuckles as your face flashes with delight once all the goods are finally shown at long last, “See something you like?” Quips your man as your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze, huh were you staring?

A hot second later you’re hovering directly above his heated body as he strains from grabbing your soft hips and pushing your slick entrance into him. He wants you to enjoy yourself more then anything in the world, so instead does he pull you in for a heated kiss.

“I see many things that I like.” You whisper against his soft lips before slowly sinking down onto him, the sensation of his fullness and girth pulling you into a world of bliss.

Your smile is almost provocative as he moans, the sounds of his pleasure sending sparks of electricity into your system, “God Buck, you feel so fucking good.” You praise, rolling your hips back and forth against him shamelessly, God he loves it when you sweet talk him

He smirks against the corner of your lips before kissing your cheek, “You.....to-too.” Stutters Bucky while you continue to relentlessly ride him like a wild bull, the rocking of your hips causing him to forget how to properly speak.

He looks absolutely angelic, dark locks spread out upon the Wakandian blanket, shirtless, and face smiling with great happiness and joy that he’s been so terribly deprived of for such a long time. Not anymore. Not if you can help it.

Biting your lip when his member twitches inside you, you’re helpless to stop as a soft voluptuous whimper leaves your parted lips unexpectedly when he bucks his hips into you for some more friction. Noticing how well this new action is being received by you, Bucky does it over and over again until you’re nothing but a moaning mess above him.

Dammit he knows how to make you feel good.

Your body falling fully onto him as he makes you cum hard, “F-fuck.....oh God Buck, fuck me.” You mumble against his lips as he thrusts up into you over and over until he finally spills inside you with a concentrated grunt.

“oh.” You gasp breathlessly as Bucky flips you onto your back in one skilled motion, still deep within your wet warmness as his whole body presses you wonderfully into the soft blanket, “I hope they can’t see us.” You point out as Bucky chuckles before kissing your jawline, strong hips pushing against yours as he parts your legs further with his large body.

“It’s dark out.” Mutters Bucky in reply as he pulls another moan from your sweet lips, “They’re dancing.....and we’re....oh fuck....uhh....yes...” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suddenly squeeze your walls tightly around his cock as a second orgasm hits you, “Dear God Y/N.” Moans Bucky while you trail pink fiery lines down his muscular back.

Smiling against his lips, you fully enjoy the sensation of his thick member sliding in and out of you at a blissfully rapid pace as he continues to make a mess down there with his pleasure inducing actions. You’re incredibly grateful for the fire dance celebration happening a little ways away and all the loud pounding of the tribal drums that masks over the sounds of yours and Bucky’s intense love making on the Wakandian savanna.

Biting your lip, you can’t help when more whiney moans slip from your mouth, he’s a relentless force of lust and love that’s on a mission to see you filled to the brim with pleasure once more. He needs you, he wants every single inch of your heated vessel, he needs you to come for him just one last time.

“Y/N.” Mumbles Bucky against your parted lips as you slowly nod in acknowledgment, too fucked out to think. He smirks, “Cum for me, last time okay.” Says your lover sweetly as his hips roll against your sweaty skin, sending waves of building pleasure on a crash course for your hot core that’s pulsating in delight.

Digging your nails into the slick muscle of his broad back, you suck in a breath while his hard member slides in and out of you with ease. You’re about to come undone right under him yet again, the power of this man you could just about die happy, “Fuck,” You whimper helplessly as he kisses your cheek, “oh God Buck I’m close.”

He smiles proudly as his hips thrust forward, cock sliding deep within your warm walls as his manhood presses on the brim of your entrance, working absolute wonders on your over-stimulated clit.

Soon enough, the tight coil bursts open, sending shock waves of absolute radiant bliss that causes your muscles to tighten and shake reflexively. A sudden wetness slips out around his cock and onto the Wakandian blanket that’s definitely going to need a deep cleaning tomorrow.

The new liquid slides down your inner thighs as your body slowly yet surly comes down from your salaciously erotic climax; head unclouding the thick fog away, you take a deep breath only for yourself to realize you just squirted for the first time ever.

And it appears Bucky has just come to this thrilling realization too, locking eyes with him, you’re greeted with a sly smirk, “Did I just make you squirt?” Muses Bucky in underlying excitement as you simply roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I can deny it considering it’s all over the blanket, among other places.” You sass back, still aware of how he’s still buried deep inside you, “Proud of yourself?” You add with a small laugh.

Kissing your lips in reply, he pushes himself up by his one arm to gently slip out of you before laying in an exhausted heap at your side, “Actually. Yes, I am very proud of myself thanks for asking.” Quips Bucky while his hand trails down your bare rib cage before a huge grin reveals itself in the darkness, “I just made my girlfriend squirt!” Shouts Bucky without a care in the whole goddamn world.

Smacking his arm, you quickly sit up and look around, though it appears no one even knows you two are out here, “Will you shut up!” You whisper yell down at Bucky who’s giving you the biggest white toothed smile ever, “Stop smiling it wasn’t that impressive.”

Faking a half offended look, he pats your leg affectionately, “It was! And you seemed to be enjoying it so just accept that I’ve gotten better at this.”

You scoff, “I never said you weren’t. It’s just we’ve been together for almost three years and that’s the first time I’ve ever done.....that. So..”

“And it just happened so therefore I am amazing and you’re just going to have to accept how hot I am Y/N.”

“Buc..”

“I was getting you all hot and bothered doll.” Winks Bucky seductively as you shake your head at him, a reluctant smile creeping onto your beautiful features anyway.

“God you’re so old.”

Bucky snorts, “And aren’t you 65 or something? Sleeping with a 90 year old man....Y/N you’re getting out of hand.”

Shoving his hand off of your leg, you swiftly fall into his side as his arm curls up to wrap protectively against your waist, “Bucky shut your ass up.” You snicker, “I liked you better when I was on top. All you did was give me that “oh god Y/N oh fuck me ohhh I’m gonna I’m gonna...”

Bucky squeezes your side, “Okay. Okay. I get it you little asshole....let’s just, let’s just rest a moment yeah?”

You hum, shifting yourself so that you can lay against his chest, “Getting mushy on me now Barnes?” You whisper softly with a playful smirk.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his plush lips while he glances down at you, “A little.”

For about twenty minutes the two of you keep silent, just listing to the yelps and thunderous pounding of the drums from farther away. There is no reason to leave, no reason to move, no reason to speak. Just you two, laying wrapped up together in each others loving embrace, taking in the moment for as long as you can. The future is always uncertain, so every single second with Bucky is a blessing to be cherished and consumed for all you can take.

His breaths are slow and steady as you feel the soft rise and fall of his muscular chest that’s pressed against your breasts and face. His fingers run gentle line up and down your naked skin as you hug him close.

“Do you remember when we first saw one another?” Asks Bucky, his voice almost startling you. Lips just barley brush against your naked shoulder as he holds you close, your face nuzzled comfortably against his dark hair.

You pause, eyes blinking as they shift over to Bucky while he awaits an answer, “It was a long time ago Buck.”

“I know. But do you remember?”

Shrugging, you shift a bit to have a better look at his face, “I do. But you were the Winter Soldier and I was.....something I never want to be ever again.” You mutter, the sadness and regret deep in your soft voice.

All goes silent for the next couple minutes before Bucky suddenly kisses your shoulder, “I thought you were beautiful.”

Yours brows raise as you pull from his right grasp to sit up on one elbow while you look down at him, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you hold back tears. You didn’t expect to get this emotional but here you are naked and bare for him, “You did?”

Bucky nods in the darkness, heart hurting when your voice cracks, he’s never told you a word about how he felt when he was a weapon, “And every day after that.”

“oh.”

“I didn’t want them to.....well, you know.....I didn’t want to forget you.” Confesses Bucky, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t. Thank you for finding me Y/N....I owe you my life.”

Biting the bottom of your quivering lip, he smiles adoringly up at you, “Bucky....shut up you’re going to make me cry you bastard.” He laughs as you indeed shed a couple stray tears in this soft moment of vulnerability with your sweet man as he holds you protectively in his arm.

“I mean it...every single word, you mean so much to me Y/N. The world would be a darker place without you in it...”

You lower your head in shame, all those buried memories piling up all at once, “No. No it wouldn’t be....I’m part of the darkness Bucky...you know that..”

“Y/N, look at me, please.” Begs Bucky as you begrudgingly lift your head for him to meet your tearfully sad eyes, “Don’t let them win. What they did to us, what they made us do....you’re so much better then all of that. We’ve changed Y/N, for the better and you know it...the words can’t break me anymore and you, you’re free.”

“Okay.” Is all you’re able to rasp out before more tears fall willingly from your eyes, tiny water droplets of grief and remorse pattering against his bare chest, Bucky’s heart breaks for your pain and loss, and everything those fuckers at Hydra put you through before your escape to freedom.

He knows how much you hate yourself for all the innocent people you killed, granted not many were adherently innocent, but there where many that died by your hand because wrong place wrong time or by Hydra manipulation. Selling you false secrets that painted some people who were indeed good, as the enemy equal to the worst kinds of humans.

He knows, and he refuses to let you fall into this dark pit of despair, “I love you...okay, Y/N I love you so fucking much.” His words are well heard and received as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

There he holds you tightly, there he will protect you with his life, and there he will stay with you under the stars until dawn breaks out over the horizon.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the avengers imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #james buchanan barnes

142 notes · View notes

lonelyreputation · 4 years ago

Text

Arpeggio

A/N: Woooo a long one! The idea has been on a stick note for three months and it’s finally here 🤧 It was a very fun one to write! I hope you enjoy it & let me know your thoughts! Ahh! 💥🥰💗

Summary: You’re a ghostwriter for a famous singer and Shawn is head over heels in love with the singer who he thinks writes her own music…But little does he know it’s you.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Few swear words

WC: 13.7K // Angst & Fluff

You sat on the edge of your seat, legs crossed, as you stared intently at the “famed” singer-songwriter who was reading over your lyrics. She shuffled papers back and forth either humming in distaste when she didn’t like a particular lyric, or slamming a lyric sheet down on the table for a song she wanted to keep.

This was the third album cycle you had done this for her––writing songs and pitching them for her to sing. All while you sat in the background and collected royalties off the copyright you owned.

When you were sixteen, you wrote a song that circulated around a publishing company, and she––Zilla––did whatever she could to have the song be put on hold for her. She was a newer artist, but you heard whispers that she bought out Kacey Musgraves in order to record your song.

It started with one song as a work for hire, which grew to an EP where you had copyright ownership, and then to a full album…Which led you to sign a contract with her management team as her ghostwriter.

You remember it clear as day––you in their office, with your own entertainment lawyer, as Zilla and her manager slid an NDA across the table. You remember the manager trying their best to not outright say that Zilla wasn’t talented in songwriting––She just spends so much time making sure her vocals are perfect that she doesn’t have time to write and everyone wants personal songs nowadays.

Zilla’s real name was Willow––but in order to keep the artist name the same as the songwriting credits––she picked a stage name. So, her stage name was just Zilla, and your songwriting credit would be listed as Zilla Greene.

While the public knew that Zilla was a stage name for Willow, they thought that she also wrote her own songs under the pseudonym Zilla Greene…But nobody knew how far from the truth that was.

The sound of papers slamming down on a wooden table snapped you out from your daydream, “None of these work,” Zilla leaned back on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest, “I want to change my sound.”

You had spent months crafting the songs in front of her. Carefully crafted rhyme schemes, imagery that was similar to the second album you wrote for her that won her three Grammys, it had an even mix of upbeat songs and ballads…And she didn’t want any of them.

Your mouth dropped, “But what––You want––Why?”

Zilla shrugged her shoulders and picked at her nails, “The last album was so…Pop,” she cringed, “Too colorful. I need to change it up––Keep listeners on their toes––I’m seeing this album aesthetic as more black and white.”

You picked up your little notebook and scribbled down aesthetics and moods she wanted to match. With each sentence she rattled off, you wrote down key words––songs that connect in a story, feeling lost, black and white, heartbreak––a bit of your soul crumbled as you saw the songs you worked so hard on lay abandoned on the table without a second thought.

“Give me an album that gives me a perfect score on Pitchfork.”

The pen you frivolously scribbled down ideas on dropped from your hand, “That’s––I can’t control Pitchfork!”

Zilla rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Then you better write a damn good album.”

“But you––Red!” You shouted out to grab her attention as you saw her packing up her bag, “That’s a nine. Literally one point away from a perfect score.”

Hiking her back over her shoulder, Zilla flicked her perfect loose curls over her shoulder, “Red was a good debut album, 1989 was a good Grammy album, I need something great.”

And with that, the “famed” singer-songwriter walked out of the room. The clacks of her heels were as loud as the sound of your heart shattering as you continued to stare at the songs on the table…That’ll never have the chance to see the daylight.

---

It was a new day and the sun shining through your half-opened window as the thin white curtains softly blew with the breeze. You were sat crossed legged on the floor in a little corner of your apartment that you claimed as your “writing room.” It wasn’t much of a room––because you literally sat on the floor––but it was where you wrote the best.

You sat in the corner, right under the window, on a small pink and teal woven rug, with a few throw pillows, and lyric sheets scattered all over the floor.

How were you supposed to create a whole new album when you had a perfect album already written?

With your head buried in your hands, you were at standstill, never having writer's block hit you this hard. You had songs already written––An album that was hopefully a 7 on Pitchfork’s scale––but it wasn’t good enough for her.

Nothing seemed to be good enough for her.

Your phone dinged with an email and you read the preview that it was just a Google Alert for Zilla. You ignored the notification, not wanting to think about how angry you already were at her…even though you were currently writing for her.

A melody slowly came into your mind as you started humming into a voice note. But it was quickly cut off short when you heard the stomps of Mia––your roommate––come running from the kitchen to where you were.

“Did you see this interview?”

You raised an eyebrow at her and directed your eyes to the strewn papers on the floor, “I’m a little busy?”

She waved you off and couldn’t stop smiling, “Shawn Mendes is like in love with you.”

The phone dropped from your hands, and you cringed because you knew that was going to sound horrendous when you played back the voice note. But that wasn’t what was on your mind.

“What?!”

Mia nodded at your shocked reaction, but then backed up with her explanation, “Well, not you––Zilla,” she made a little throw up noise, “But he loves your songwriting.”

“How––”

Mia shoved her phone into your face and you saw a paused YouTube video. In the video you saw Shawn Mendes sitting on a chair, holding a white poster board, as he was in the middle of ripping a paper off. He was doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview. You skeptically looked up at Mia, and she gestured with her hands for you to hit play.

So you hit play and immediately cringed at the sound of his nails coming in contact with the poster board as he ripped off the blocking.

“Did Shawn Mendes write a song on Zilla’s last album?” Shawn let out a small laugh as he shook his head, “I wish she would write a song for me.” His smile only seemed to grow as he continued talking about her, “She posted an acoustic clip of this new song she was working on––I’m hoping it’s on her new album.”

You felt a flutter of butterflies swarm your stomach because you knew exactly what song he was talking about. It was the chorus to a song called Cardigan, the first song that Zilla hadn’t turned down for the new album.

The video Zilla posted on her Instagram was dimly lit as she sat on the ground with her guitar. And while she frustrated you to no end…You couldn’t deny that she had a beautiful voice.

And apparently Shawn Mendes thought so too.

“Ever since her self-titled EP, I’ve been obsessed with her,” at Shawn’s words you looked up at Mia who mirrored your smile, “There’s just something so personal about her songs and I…” he looked down at his shoes before looking back up at the camera, “I’m fangirling, but I really admire her songwriting. I hope to write with her one day.”

He went to rip off the next question, but you paused the video, not wanting to hear the scraping sound again.

With the phone slightly shaking in your hands, you slowly picked your head up to look at Mia with a wide smile, “Oh my God.”

Mia nodded excitedly and jumped around in a circle, “Shawn Mendes likes––no loves––your songwriting! He’s so in love with you––He wants to write songs with you––He––”

You started to feel an overwhelming sense of pride as a jolt of joy was sent from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Shawn Mendes––an artist that you admired for his work ethic––admitted to fangirling over your songwriting.

You were about to get up and dance around with Mia because it felt like a celebration, but with one look at the lyric sheets scattered on the floor…Your excitement slowly diminished. Because all of these songs––all of your feelings, your poetry, your deepest regrets and highest of loves––were going to her.

Zilla got the credit for your art.

People told Zilla that she inspired them to write songs.

And Shawn admired what he thought was Zilla’s songwriting.

You picked up the pen and twirled it around your fingers, clenching your jaw, as you casted a regretful look at the songs on the floor…They were your pride and joy, even the ones you didn’t like very much, because each song took a little bit of your soul and was then shared with the world.

“He’s in love with Zilla’s writing,” you sucked in a deep breath, “Not mine.”

----

Instead of your safe writing spot at your apartment, you were in the studio for a change. Since the only people who knew about Zilla’s secret were you, Mia, your lawyer, her manager, and Zilla herself…The record label still booked sessions for Zilla to write. So you found yourself in the studio a few times a month whenever it came time to write her a new album.

“How’s the album?”

You had been writing for hours and felt so exhausted that you should’ve been surprised when you didn’t hear a door open. But you were absolutely dreading this album writing process, you were creating emotions––trying to draw from real experience––but nothing was working.

You stretched your arms over your head, squinting an eye when you heard your back crack, and looked up at Zilla with tired eyes, “I have a few songs.”

Her mouth dropped, not liking the progress you were making, “A few?”

“It’s been two and a half months since you said you wanted a whole genre switch,” You snapped at her, “You’re going from pop to some sort of folk alternative––”

Zilla scoffed, “You did this before. Red was country and 1989 was pop. This shouldn’t be a problem.”

The two of you were in a glaring match as you set your pen down, “You demanded a seventeen song album––Do you know how hard that is with the soft deadline Columbia gave you?”

“You had songs written before––”

“Then why didn’t you take those songs?” It was a genuine question, but also a question you knew the answer to. And you were right when she spurted something off about wanting to change up her sound.

“People love me because I’m not predictable,” Zilla walked over to where you were sitting and picked up a lyric sheet, humming in approval before letting it slowly fall to the ground, “And the songs you wrote before weren’t good enough.”

“What do you mean––”

“It’s just writing a few songs,” Zilla huffed out, “I don’t see how you can’t do that between now and the soft release date.”

You closed your eyes and let your head fall on the back of the couch cushion. You brought your hands up to rub the inside corners of your eyes, “You want a heartbreak album––I’m not in that headspace and you also need to record the songs.”

You opened your eyes and immediately glared, “Do you remember how Rob Stringer nearly flipped because I still had to finish writing Clean but you lied and said it was just the backing vocals that needed to be done?”

As much as Zilla wanted to refute you, she knew she had no place, because what you said was absolutely true. That was not a fun phone call to be a part of with the C.E.O. of Sony Music––even if you were on mute.

“It won him Album of the Year at the Grammys,” Zilla said in an unsympathetic voice, “And this album is going to be better than that.”

You let out a very loud and exasperated sigh, “That won’t cut it this time around! At least I had some inspiration for that album, because I have none––”

“You’re crazy,” Zilla narrowed her eyes, “Just find a random person and have them break your heart.” You had your mouth open for a rebuttal to tell her that that’s not how songwriting worked, but she picked a piece of lint off her sweater, “You’re pretty…enough.”

You squeezed your eyes tight as you felt yourself begin to seethe at her. You started to feel a slight pain in your jaw with how hard your teeth were clenched together, but your eyes were still shut as you tried to simmer your anger, as your voice came out dangerously low, “Out.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Zilla laughed and you opened your eyes to look at the woman who had no respect for your artistry…Even though you were the one to give her a career in the first place, “I’m paying for your studio time.”

“No, technically,” you glared over her shoulder at the door, “Columbia is paying for the studio.”

Zilla huffed as she crossed her stiff arms over her chest, “No need to get so angry––”

You felt yourself becoming more angry at her presence. Her presence was driving you insane and you knew that she was being a nuisance on purpose––poking you like a bear until she got her desired reaction out of you.

“Out!”

She looked at you with shock written all over her face. You were never one to raise your voice at anyone, and you always bent over backwards to comply with whatever Zilla wanted. But not now. You only felt angry and crazy in her presence, and those feelings only intensified in you when she pointed out how crazy and angry you were acting.

Zilla left––you don’t know if it was after you screamed at her or if she stayed for a few moments longer––because for the first time in writing this album for her…You felt inspiration for a song hit.

You heard the light piano keys first, humming the pitch in your head, as the light sound of finger picking on a guitar creeped into the back of your mind. Fresh off your argument with Zilla, the chorus of the song came first. You channeled your anger into inspiration as your hand gripped the pen until your knuckles hurt.

You don’t know how long you were writing the song for, but it was almost finished––I’m taking my time––Oh, how you wished you could take your time with this album––Taking my time––Well, maybe you will take your time with this album and get her in trouble with all of her deadlines, even though it would technically be breaking your contract too––Because you took everything from me.

She took your songs away from you.

“Oh, Sorry I––I might be in the wrong room?”

You dropped your pen and slammed your writing journal closed because no one was supposed to be in this room. With eyes wide, your heart stopped, because there were papers all around the room of potential songs for Zilla’s album.

Lifting your wrist to look at your watch, you saw that you were eleven minutes past your allotted amount of time Columbia reserved. Immediately, you scrambled to get off the couch as fast as possible, crunching your lyric sheets in the process.

You shook your head, still not looking up at the person because you wanted to make sure all of the songs were in your possession, “You’re probably in the right room. I––I’ve stayed past my time just a little and I––This is most likely definitely your room––”

“Wasn’t Zilla in here before?”

You froze and gripped the song sheet that you were currently stuffing in your bag.

Shit.

Slowly, you took a deep breath, and looked up at the person who had the room reserved after you. And your already wide eyes doubled in size when you saw that it was Shawn Mendes standing in front of you. The guy you saw on Mia’s cracked iPhone screen a few months ago––fangirling over songs you wrote.

His knuckles were white as he gripped his guitar case––in what you assumed to be excited nerves––as his head darted around the small studio space, hoping to catch a glimpse of the singer-songwriter.

“Oh, yeah she––She was done like forty minutes ago,” you spewed out a lie, “And then she let me use her remaining time.”

Shawn’s shoulders sunk in disappointment, and his smile faltered just a tad, undoubtedly disappointed that he missed his chance to meet a songwriter he admired. But little did he know that songwriter he actually admired was standing right in front of him.

You never wanted to be in the spotlight, never liked having attention on you, and it’s part of the reason why you agreed to work as Zilla’s ghostwriter. But with how her career took off, her songs––your stories––were gaining much more recognition than you ever thought. And it was times like these that you wished you could tell someone––other than your roommate––that they were your songs.

“So…” Shawn rocked on his feet a few times, quickly breaking eye contact with you to look at the remaining papers on the ground, “Are you friends with her?”

You nodded your head as you bent down to pick up the remaining songs, stuffing them deep in your bag, “We’re like––Uh––Yeah, pretty good friends.”

How else were you supposed to describe your business relationship with her? In the beginning, you hoped it would be more of a collaborative experience––Zilla telling you stories about her that you could write into songs––but that wasn’t the case.

She didn’t want to do any work besides reap the benefits of traveling the world and having millions of people adore her.

He ran his free hand through his curls, following your every move of cleaning up your mess, “Do you sing?”

His question caught you off guard, “Pardon?”

Shawn let out a small laugh and gestured to the recording studio the two of you were in, “Are you a musician?”

You immediately shook your head, “Oh no, I’m––I write.”

“Ah, a songwriter,” Shawn softly smiled in appreciation as he went to set his guitar down by the other couch in the room, “Without people like you, us singers would be useless.”

“You write your own stuff. Not many people do that anymore,” you rolled your eyes at his compliment, “That’s a redeeming quality.”

Shawn shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, I…I do write my own stuff. With some help obviously, but it’s rare to find that nowadays.” You nodded in understanding as the two of you stood in silence. He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans as a smile lit up his face, “Except for Zilla. Now she…Wow,” he whistled low, “She’s a once in a lifetime artist.”

You felt your throat tighten up.

“Yeah, that’s…” You let out a fake laugh as you bit the inside of your cheek, “That’s one way to put it.”

Shawn eagerly nodded as he continued to talk about your least favorite topic, “Her words––Her experiences––It’s all so personal. Sometimes I feel like I’m eavesdropping or reading her diary,” He plopped down on a black rolling chair and his smile grew wider, “Now she’s someone I respect.”

And while you knew he was complimenting your work, he didn’t know it. The person who he thought he respected so much was in the music industry for all the wrong reasons. The person he thought so highly sent you a text on the day she got her first Billboard number one––a song that you wrote––and demanded a new song in a few weeks time all while she popped open a bottle of champagne on her Instagram.

You nodded your head, knowing that if you said something, it wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll let you get to work,” you picked up your journal from the couch cushion and slipped it in your bag, “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

You turned to walk out the door but Shawn’s voice called you back, “Hey––You, um…I think this is yours?”

Turning around, you saw Shawn looking down at a familiar white piece of paper with words scratched out and arrows changing up verses, “This is…This is really good…” he looked up at you, “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Y/n,” you rushed out as you snatched the paper out of his hold.

Shawn nodded his head and stood up from the chair, leaning over your shoulder to continue reading the lyrics, “Centennial park…” he scratched his chin, “Nashville?”

You folded the paper in half, shielding your story from his eyes, as you lied, “Different park.”

Still stuck on the song, your mouth dropped as Shawn yanked the piece of paper out of your hands, opening it back up to skim over, “Maybe in the bridge––The last line…” you reached out to grab your paper from him, but he held it over his head, tilting his head back so he could still read the lyrics, “Change string to thread? Change up the lyrics like you did with the chords.”

Once he got his thought out, he lowered the piece of music and you grabbed it back, glaring at him as you stuffed it deep into your bag, “These aren’t mine,” you said bitterly, because while they were your words, they would eventually belong to Zilla, “They’re Zilla’s. So I’ll let her know.”

Shawn’s eyes bugged out of his head, mouth wide open in shock, “You––You have her lyric sheets?!” His eyes quickly darted down to your bag. You pulled your bag closer to your side out of protection, “The things I would do to have whatever job you have. I mean––To be able to read her songs before they’re out? That’s––I will literally trade places for a day with you.”

You let out a weak laugh, wishing that you got out of the studio on time, “I’m sure your job pays much better than being her…assistant.”

Shawn’s eyes glistened with excitement, “You’re her friend, assistant, and you get to read her songs?” Shawn ducked his head as he let out a chuckle, “I’d do anything to be you for a day.”

You pulled your eyebrows together, but tried to keep your face neutral, “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” But his smile only widened as he daydreamed about being so close to someone you thought was cousins with the devil, “I should really get going.”

Shawn nodded in understanding but called your name out, “Y/n––I don’t know if this is too forward, but…I mean––You don’t have to do it––But could you give Zilla my number?” He didn’t get a chance to look at how everything about your appearance dropped.

You were stunned as your mouth hung open, your eyes drooped in sadness, shoulders deflated…But he couldn’t visibly see the weight that you felt like was dropped in your stomach. He picked up a pen you left on the table and scribbled his number on a sticky note and you couldn’t remember a time where you felt so defeated.

He tore the sticky note off the pad and handed it over to you as he blushed, “I’d really love to write with her.”

You’d love to write with me, your brain screamed at you. But outing yourself as Zilla’s writer wasn’t worth all the lawsuits you would face.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and numbly nodded, “I’m sure she’d love to write with you too.”

----

Two and a half weeks later you found yourself writing in the same studio. And while you normally felt cooped up when in the studio, it was better at being at your apartment. Ever since you told Mia about your run in with Shawn it was the only thing she talked about.

She told you that it was the perfect time to tell the truth about your career––bring that witch down once and for all––were her exact words. But you didn’t want to deal with the mess of breaking an NDA.

So the next time you saw Zilla, you told her about your run in, and unenthusiastically handed her the sticky note with his number. Her smile was as wide as his when you told him you worked with Zilla. And while Zilla portrayed herself as a down-to-earth singer who transcended all genres of music…She was nothing but the opposite.

And from your brief run in with Shawn, you knew he was completely opposite of Zilla in every way, shape, and form.

The sound of your phone ringing brought you out of your songwriting process, without looking at caller I.D., you answered, “Hi, this is––”

“Y/n.”

You sucked in a breath when you heard her voice, “I have half of the album written. I’ll send you the songs and then you can record them,” You doodled in the margin of your journal, “So that way we don’t get in trouble again––”

“No, stop––Shawn is on his way to the studio.”

You let out a bitter laugh, your grip around the pen tightening as it scratched a hole in the paper, “I’m sure the fans will be happy to see pictures––

“No. Shut up for a minute,” at her strict tone you straightened your posture, not liking the way she was talking to you, “He’s coming to you. Where you are.”

You were about to make a quip about how she should talk to you with a little more respect, but when you heard the news of Shawn, your mind went from lyrical songwriting to ultimate panic.

“What?!”

“And I’m like an hour away from you,” you heard a car horn beep on the other end, “God, I hate L.A.––But he––He wants to write songs with me––”

“But you don’t write your own songs.”

“Don’t I fucking know,” she sneered through the phone.

A victorious small smile crept on your face, “Then why did you agree?”

“We had lunch and I told him I had a studio time slotted and he just texted me that he’s ten minutes away,” Zilla said all in one breath as she honked her horn twice, “because he wanted to surprise me.”

“Not much of a surprise if he’s texting you.”

She honked her horn again, “Y/n.”

“Sorry, sorry…I just,” you looked around at the mess you created in the studio. There were your usual papers strewn around, empty coffee cups, some takeaway food containers on the table that you were too lazy to throw out, “I’ve been here for like seven hours and there’s no way it’ll be clean before he comes.”

“Well do something––”

“Y/n?”

At the sound of your name being said gently in the same room as you, instead of it being yelled at through a phone, you quickly hung up on Zilla and threw your phone to the other end of the couch. You snapped your head up, and like the first time you saw him, he had his guitar case clutched in his hand, knuckles white.

“Shawn,” You said his name carefully as you looked wearily at him, “Hey.”

He slowly nodded his head, “Is…” and you cringed when you saw him looking around the mess you created in the studio, “…Is Zilla here?”

“Oh she––she just––” you had to think of something quick, “Had to pick something up at the pharmacy and it’s a bit out of the way––and she––so she called me and wanted me to uh––keep watch.”

Shawn looked at you, letting out a confused laugh, as he tilted his head, “Keep watch in a highly secure recording studio where the rooms lock?”

You nodded your head, keeping up with your lie, “She’s very very protective of her work space.”

Again, he nodded his head as he took another look around the messy studio, “I can…see that.” He shrugged his shoulders at the mess and took a seat on the ground.

You gathered up some of the papers that were on the couch around you, and on the table, and on the floor, “She had to go across town so she’ll be some time,” you shuffled the papers together until they all lined up. You set them aside and flipped to a clean page in your notebook, “So like––Make yourself at home.”

In the midst of gathering your stuff up to leave, he called you back in, “Y/n,” you lifted your head up to see an amused smirk on his face, “Leaving your watch position in her studio?”

Your eyes widened, “Well, uh––You’re here now so like––I think it’ll be fine if you’re here, and if you have stuff to work on, I don’t want to get in the way––”

Shawn shook his head, “Stay.”

As if you were trapped under a spell, you set your bag down on the couch and sat on the ground across from him. You sat with your legs criss-crossed as he opened the lid to his guitar case, “So…” you started off slow as you watched him carefully pull out his guitar.

Once he got in a comfortable sitting position with his guitar, you saw him pluck some strings and adjust the tuning pegs. There was one string that sounded off and you couldn’t hide your cringe.

“That B is flat. It needs to be higher.”

Shawn moved on to tune the E string, “I think it sounds fine.”

Even though he was looking down at his guitar, you still shook your head, “Get your tuner. It’s flat.”

Shawn let out a playful sigh and picked his head up to look for his tuner. Once he found it in the case, he clipped it on the head of the guitar, “If it’s not perfect, I buy you a coffee,” he smiled at you, “And if it is perfect, you buy me a coffee.”

You only offered him a smile as your response, already knowing that he would be the one buying you coffee. And when he got everything set up, plucked the string again, he looked at the tuner and frowned. He started twisting the peg as he continued to pick at the string until the B string sounded like music to your ears.

Shawn lifted his head up, a small smile toying at the edges of his mouth, as he looked at you through his eyelashes, “Do we have perfect pitch over here?”

You smiled and shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to brag because you did have perfect pitch, “I like a cappuccino––light on the foam with an extra shot of espresso.”

Shawn laughed at your response and rested his arm along the body of the guitar, “Working on anything exciting?”

You saw him eye the small stack of papers to your left, “Um…” self-consciously, you moved the papers further behind you so they were out of eyesight for him, “No…Not really.” Shawn gave you a look saying that he didn’t believe you, but you flipped the question to him, “What about you? Getting some inspiration for new songs?”

On the outside, you wiggled your eyebrows in a suggestive manner, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of joking. But on the inside, you felt your heart squeeze and your lungs collapse.

And it crushed you even more when he ducked his head and blushed, “I’m sure she’s told you plenty.” You laughed, pretending like you knew he was talking about, but Zilla hadn’t told you anything.

“She’s just so…Not what I expected,” a part of your spirits lifted, hoping he had seen her for who she truly was, but that was diminished when you noticed the far off dreamlike look in his eyes, “I think it makes me like her even more.”

You breathed out a silent laugh, twisting your hands together, “She’s a tricky one. Always…always surprising people.”

Shawn nodded his head and slowly strummed the guitar, “I think I like being surprised.”

This time, you threw your head back in genuine laughter, but when you saw his confused stare, you coughed in the crook of your elbow, “Stick with her if you like to be kept on your toes.”

Shawn tried to conceal his smile, but you knew he was already enamored with Zilla, too far gone to be swayed by anything you could say, “I’ll take that advice.” The two of you sat in another silence, as he softly strummed some chords on his guitar.

“Enough about her,” Shawn offered you a friendly smile, “I’m having trouble with something––Partly why I wanted to see her in the studio––” he leaned over to his backpack to grab out his sheet music and handed it to you, “See, I wanna do this,” he tried playing a chord, “But it’s not––I want it to sound different.”

You snorted and laid the sheet of paper on your knee, “That’s a good way to describe something you want changed.” Shawn glared at you, and you rolled your eyes, “How about…Have you tried an arpeggio?”

“You definitely went to music school.”

You waved off his comment, “I’m sure you know what it is––just maybe not it’s technical name,” you pushed yourself off from the ground and walked over to grab your guitar. Having already tuned it when you got in the studio, you sat down and situated the guitar on your lap.

“It’s like; do, do, do, do, do…” You tried humming, but when his face was still confused you started to play one of the most recognizable guitar riffs, “House Of The Rising Sun, the opening is an arpeggio,” you continued to hum along with the notes as you saw everything click in understanding in Shawn’s head.

You continued to play the opening chords on loop, “It’s a broken chord. So that way you can hear the individual notes,” you explained, “Say on piano, you would play an arpeggio by just playing each individual key, and it’s the same on a guitar. So when you play it slower,” you slowed down your strumming, “You can hear them more individually.”

Shawn nodded his head in awe of his little music lesson.

“They’re usually played in either ascending or descending order,” you picked up the pace of your strumming, before placing your hand flat on the strings, over the sound hole, to stop playing completely, “They’re also pretty common if you play them in a triad.”

Again, Shawn only nodded, enchanted by the sound of guitar.

“How much do you charge for music lessons?”

You let out a loud laugh and set your guitar over to the side, “I think you’re probably good in that department, but just buy me coffee then we’ll call it even.”

Shawn eagerly nodded his head, “I’m holding you to that––So like, with an arpeggio, is it always obvious that it’s there? Or do you have to listen to it really really closely?”

“I mean…” you tilted your head to the side, trying to find wording for the answer, “I think they’re more common than people realize? It’s a bit technical, because you're consecutively picking notes on different strings, but if you listen really closely, you’ll pick up on the broken chords.”

Shawn nodded, eyes seeming to be unfocused on something behind you, “Broken chords…” he mumbled under his breath a few times.

Feeling a little unsettled with him staring off into space, you cleared your throat, and that did the trick to snap him back to reality.

He smiled and then nodded his head toward the lyric sheet he handed you, “And these lyrics…I can’t––” He leaned over and slid the lyrics across the floor so that they were placed in between you two, “Something’s off.”

You nodded your head, biting your bottom lip in concentration, trying to figure out the root of the problem. Because while the lyrics were good, and you were able to hear the melody he had written down in your head, there was something off about them.

“Your rhyme scheme,” you mumbled, eyes still concentrated on the lyric sheet, “It’s a bit all over the place. So I would just narrow that down, figure out if you’re doing an arpeggio or not, and you should be golden.”

When you looked up, you saw Shawn look at you with the same admiration he had in his eyes during your first conversation when he said how much he respected Zilla’s songwriting.

You broke eye contact with him and scratched the back of your ear, “But only if you want––I don’t––Zilla is probably the person you should ask about this––”

Shawn shook his head, “She keeps blowing me off whenever I ask for her opinion,” and when you brought your gaze back up to him, he looked unsure of himself, “I know I’m not up to her level, and she’s…nice, but she always seems too busy to write.”

The insecure downcast of his eyes, and shrunken up body language, was a look you knew all too well. He didn’t think he was good enough to write songs with her. And what killed you was that he thought that way because she kept giving out false hope to him. It angered you because if only he knew that he was actually writing songs with the person he admired, he would have a different perspective on everything.

You let out a sigh, knowing exactly how rejected he must feel, and slid the song sheet back over to him, “For a cup of coffee I’ll give you music lessons.”

Everything about Shawn’s demeanor switched like a light. His posture straightened out, eyes beamed with joy, and his smile looked to be a little too wide after just offering him music lessons, “Please.”

You shyly nodded your head, feeling heat raise up to your cheeks, as you pulled down your phone from the couch and handed it over to him, “You can put your number in and then we can find a time.”

“I really appreciate this,” Shawn said as he swiftly typed away on your phone, “I can’t even––”

“Shawn?”

The voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you, but you regained your neutral composure before Shawn had the chance to notice any change. You looked up to see Zilla in the doorway, glaring down at the two of you––with your guitars out and a music sheet in between you. Shawn quickly handed your phone back to you, his full attention captured by Zilla.

“Hey, Z,” Shawn waved at her, still sitting, “Y/n was just helping me write––”

“Was she?” She gave you a pointed look that was meant to be a silent yell at you to not help him whatsoever because it could blow both of your covers.

You nodded your head, standing up with your guitar, putting as much distance between you and Shawn, “I only helped a little. I told him you were the one he should go to.”

And with that answer, you still received a glare from her because of course she was useless in helping him with anything music related. You could never win with her.

He handed his lyric sheet out toward Zilla, “If you want, you can look at what I have––”

“Actually,” Zilla cut him off with a smile, “I thought we could get some lunch.”

Shawn looked down and tapped the screen on his phone, the light illuminating a small portion of his face, as he looked up with eyebrows scrunched together, “It’s five fifteen?”

Zilla clapped her hands together, “Early dinner then.”

When you looked over at Shawn, you could see that he was disappointed that Zilla––once again––brushed off his attempt to write. With a slump of his shoulders, you heard a barely audible exhale of annoyance come from him, as he packed up his guitar with a nod.

Once his guitar was packed away, he stood up and offered you an apologetic smile.

“Come on,” Zilla reached out her hand for Shawn to take, “There’s this really good sushi restaurant we can go to before it gets too crowded.”

And even though you could tell that all he wanted to do was sit down and write songs, when he looked at her, his smile was genuine. He melted right at her touch and his eyes softened.

His eyes flooded with admiration for her because he thought she was the one who wrote the music she sang. He looked at her like she was his inspiration to keep writing better music. He’s looking at her the way he should be looking at you, your mind screamed.

His eyes only added insult to the injury that started the day you signed your contract agreeing to be her ghostwriter.

“I’ll see ya for a music lesson later, Y/n.” Shawn smiled over his shoulder as Zilla dragged him out of the door.

Before Shawn looked back at Zilla, she shot you a smirk, as if she was claiming Shawn in victory. And in a sense, she had won whatever contest she made up in her head.

She won by becoming a household name, she won by not doing any of the grunt work of composing music, she won by having people do the work for her, and she won the heart of the second most famous pop singer-songwriter in the world because he thought she wrote all her own songs.

And just like that, with the slam of the door, you were left exactly in a position you found yourself in plenty of times before. You were left alone in a studio, with all of your songs, while Zilla pranced around with the newest person who caught her attention.

But this time, instead of both of you not caring about what the other one did, you could feel yourself being exiled from any part of her life that revolved around Shawn. And you knew she did it purposefully. She was threatened that your songwriting could easily sway Shawn away from her. She was threatened because she knew she couldn’t give Shawn exactly what he wanted; a partner to write songs with.

And just like every other time Zilla left you aggravated with too many feelings, you began to write a song.

----

You took your sunglasses off and squitend your eyes as you scanned the outside patio of the coffee shop. You were about to take your phone out, but when you saw Shawn stand up from the table and excitedly wave his hands above his head, you smiled and weaved through tables.

When you approached the table, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and your smile widened as you brought your arms around his waist.

“My favorite music teacher,” Shawn hummed as he pulled away from the hug.

You were a little disappointed he cut the hug off short, but you had to keep in mind that he was somewhat kind of seeing Zilla. You tried to get her to define her relationship with Shawn, but she would just wave you off and say it was nothing serious or kept asking if you were jealous.

While you might’ve been a little jealous whenever you saw a low quality paparazzi picture of them out in L.A, knowing that Zilla kept lying to Shawn about her songwriting “ability” always made you sleep with a smile on your face.

Just like the past month and a half when you met Shawn for coffee for one of your “music lessons,” he was always there first. And like every other time before, he had your cappuccino––light on the foam with an extra shot of espresso––at the spot across from him.

Not wanting to waste any time, Shawn eagerly took out his songwriting journal and flipped open to a random page. He slid the journal over to you and a laugh escaped your lips every time you saw how chaotic his journal looked.

He had different color post-it notes sticking up from the top, corners of pages that were worn down because of how frequently he dog-eared them, and the occasional loose leaf paper that was folded up and stuck between two pages.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you leaned closer to his journal, trying to decipher the messy script that was his handwriting.

You leaned back in the chair, nodding as you took another sip of coffee, “I like it.”

“Just like?” Shawn wrinkled his nose.

Shrugging your shoulders you took another look at the lyrics, “I mean…It’s a compliment?”

Shawn let out a sigh and buried his head into his hands for a moment before looking up at you with a pout, “Something’s not right.” He leaned over the table a bit and pointed at the second verse, “I don’t know what it is, but something isn’t right.”

“I like it.”

Shawn crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, “No, there’s something you’re not telling me,” he glared at you, “You ripped apart my song last week and now you’re too quiet.”

You took another sip of your coffee to cover up the fact that you did think something was wrong with it. But like he said before, with the way you tore his song up last week, you felt a little bad. You didn’t want to make him feel like he wasn’t a good songwriter, because he had a way with words that you found yourself learning from.

He didn’t have quite as many songwriting awards as you, but you knew he wasn’t too far off.

With a sigh you offered him a weak smile, “You’re too vague.” And with your first point of criticism, Shawn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he took out a smaller journal and began to write down what you said, “You’ve already had songs that have touched on feeling lonely, and you’re really specific in the first verse, but too general with the second verse…” you trailed off your sentence and pointed at some scribbles on the paper, looking up at him, “Why’d you cross this out?”

Shawn stopped his scribbling to see what you pointed at, and when he saw the lyric, his cheeks turned red and he let his curls shield his embarrassed face, “It’s nothing,” he grumbled, “What should I change it to?”

You shook your head, “Nuh-uh,” you gave him an encouraging smile, “What did you write?”

He shook his head and looked down at the table, “I don’t like it.”

Under the table, you lightly brought your foot up to tap his shin. You didn’t stop nudging his leg with your foot until you saw a small smile grace his lips when he shyly looked up at you, “I’m wondering.”

Shawn rolled his eyes at your poor pun and retaliated by nudging his foot against yours in order for you to stop teasing him, “It’s…” he shook his head, “It’s too embarrassing.”

“I’m sure it’s really not as bad as you think,” you smiled at him again, “If you tell me what the lyric was, I’ll tell you what I think you should do music composition wise at the end.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and stepped on your foot, “You’re evil.”

You let out a small laugh as you rounded your hands around the hot coffee, “I see your three starts next to it, I know that’s your little ‘I need help’ symbol.”

Shawn flipped you off and it only caused the small amount of butterflies in your stomach to grow even more.

With a deep breath, he looked down at his hands and started picking at a loose piece of skin, “I wonder…” He peered up to see your anxious gaze, but then diverted his stare back down to his hands as he tore up the paper napkin in front of him, “When I cry into my hands, I’m conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man.”

You were in the middle of lifting your coffee mug up for another sip, but when you heard the rest of the lyric your hands froze mid-air. You felt rooted to your seat as you stared at his face that still hadn’t looked up from tearing little pieces off the napkin.

How did he think that that lyric was not good enough? That was something that you wished you wrote.

It was so vulnerable and honest and most of all, it was true to who he was. In songwriting, no matter how personal a person thinks their experience is to them, there will always be hundreds upon thousands of people who will resonate with your story.

That was something you learned and used to your advantage.

On Red, you fought hard for one particular breakup song to stay on the album that Zilla thought was too personal. She kept saying––No one will care about leaving a scarf at his sister's house…No one will connect with dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light…And absolutely no one has had anyone ever call them up again just to “break them like a promise.”

But you fought hard and it was the song that solidified Zilla as this generation's greatest lyricist. And it was also the song she performed on the Grammy’s when her debut album was nominated for Album of the Year.

Nervously, Shawn peaked up and saw the neutral expression on your face as you sat frozen. He ran a hand through his hair and reached a hand across the table to pull his journal back, “See? You think it’s stupid. I––That’s why I crossed it off. It’s too vulnerable and if people heard me say that?” He let out a somber chuckle, “They would think of me as less of a man.”

You pulled his journal back toward you and snatched the pen he had laying next to his other notebook, “That’s…Shawn that’s an incredible lyric.”

You re-wrote the lyric on top of where it was originally scratched out, “There’s so much strength in vulnerability. Not enough people––especially male artist’s––are comfortable with their vulnerability. It’s refreshing and amazing and what you wrote––That lyric…”

When you looked up from re-writing the lyric down in his journal, you saw that he was trying to contain his growing smile by biting his bottom lip. And this time under the table, when you brought your foot up to his, you gave it a single tap in reassurance, “It might be my favorite lyric ever.”

His voice cracked, “Really?”

You nodded your head, “It fits so well with the theme of self-discovery and being honest with yourself,” his smile widened with every compliment you offered him. You leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over your chest with a proud smile on your face, “I think you knocked it out of the park with that one.”

Shawn ducked his head again and went back to ripping small pieces off the napkin, “That…That means a lot coming from you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt an electric current jolt through your veins, “If that lyric doesn’t make the song I won’t listen to the album.”

With a laugh so loud that it caused a few coffee shop patrons to look at your table, you let a smile overtake your face as you admired how the corners of Shawn’s eyes crinkled in joy.

“I’ll keep that promise,” Shawn scratched the bridge of his nose as he came down from his laughter, “So…” He briefly looked down at his songwriting journal with a smirk before looking back into your eyes, “What should I do with the end?”

You noticed a new flame of confidence in his eyes as he pushed his journal toward you more. You let out a laugh as you looked at him with your eyebrows raised in excitement, “I’m thinking of a choir and horns…”

----

As your “music lessons” with Shawn continued for the next few months, so did your writing for Zilla’s next album. And unfortunately, Zilla and Shawn also continued to see each other. And while it was always a punch in the gut whenever Zilla brought it up, your conversations with Shawn were solely on writing and experimenting with different synthesizers for his new album.

With your contract that essentially hid you from the public, it was so refreshing to be able to collaborate with someone instead of writing by yourself. Even though you mainly just helped Shawn with a bit of writing and composing some music, it was an experience that gave you new inspiration.

You always thought you worked best alone, but collaborating with Shawn opened your eyes to everything you were missing out on.

It was all fun until Shawn approached you saying that he wanted to give you credit on his upcoming album. That was when reality hit you because there was an exclusivity clause in your contract with Zilla stating that you could only write for her. You tried to politely decline Shawn’s offer, but every time you saw him he brought it up.

It wasn’t until you told him you would stop your music lessons with him if he kept asking you.

The times after that, you could tell he wanted to bring it up, he was fair in wanting to give credit where credit was due, but you told him not to worry about it. Someone had been taking credit for your songs for years.

And soon enough the end of July came around and the album you wrote––Zilla’s album––folklore, was released to the world.

The public’s reaction to this album was more than you could’ve imagined. It started off as an album with no inspiration, just meaningless stories, but it morphed into an album that you held close to your heart. It had your true feelings, real experiences––that might’ve been exaggerated just a little––but it was still an album based on personal experiences.

And while it only got an eight on Pitchfork––two points off from a perfect album––Rolling Stones gave it a 4.5 out of 5 rating with possibly the most beautiful review Rob Sheffield ever wrote about your songwriting. You made sure to hound Zilla to send him a thank you basket.

It might’ve been your favorite album you’ve ever written, and while you sipped on a glass of red wine at the album release party, all you had to do was look over to see Shawn’s laughing face to know why it was your favorite album.

He was still clueless that you wrote the album.

He still didn’t get any of the signs you gave about being the true songwriter. It was always you writing with Shawn while Zilla pulled him away to go out to an expensive restaurant. And while he still looked at Zilla like she was the most inspiring songwriter of today’s generation…He was starting to look at you the same way.

The inspiration behind the album came from everywhere. It was mostly centered around your frustrations with Zilla and how most of your regrets lied with signing that contract at sixteen. No matter how hard you tried, it still felt like you wasted most of your potential writing for her instead of yourself.

But then Shawn came into the studio that one day. He came in and your perspective changed.

You took another sip of red wine as the opening chords of the 1 started to play around the small venue ZIlla rented out to celebrate the release. Bitterly, you took another sip of wine, as you looked at the boy who inspired the song and threw an arm around the person you despised most in the world.

If one thing had been different…If you were the person who rightfully got credit for your work…Maybe it would’ve been you he threw an arm around and pulled in close to his chest.

Your wine glass was still half full, but you tossed your head back to finish it off. And when you brought the glass down, you saw Shawn turn his head toward you and offer you a wave.

You tightly smiled back at him and whirled around to the bar to get yourself another glass of wine.

You took full advantage of the open bar Zilla provided and another glass of red wine was placed in your hands. And as you tasted the alcohol hit the back of your throat, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of them.

If only all of your wishes came true.

----

“And we’re back!” James Corden cheerily smiled at the camera before turning to face the three guests sitting on the couch.

You were backstage watching with Shawn as the crowd clapped at the “return” from the commercial break. While you never went with Zilla to any of her interviews, you started tagging along to them to fit your “assistant for Zilla” cover story you told Shawn.

And with folklore released just a few weeks ago, you had accompanied Zilla on more than enough of the press tour. You were back in L.A., which eased your spirits a little, but it didn’t ease the bubble of animosity that you felt toward Zilla every time she talked about her experience writing folklore.

“So, Zilla,” James started off, “Congrats on the new album––folklore.” Everyone cheered and a smile lit up her face as James continued to praise her songwriting, “I’ve got to say, it’s probably my favorite album of yours. It’s so different than anything you’ve ever written before.”

Zilla crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knees, “It was…It was a totally different experience writing this album, and when inspiration hits you just have to get it all out…”

As Zilla went on about her fake inspiration for the album, you tuned her out. You could care less about what she thought the songs meant, but when you heard James bring up a little segment he wanted to do with Zilla, you felt your heart jump to your throat.

James deviously smiled, “As one of the greatest songwriters of our generation––Oh, stop blushing you know you are––I think we should play a little game.”

Zilla let out a small laugh, “Oh?”

Even though you couldn’t stand her, you knew when she was nervous. Her foot started to bounce and she ran a hand through her hair as she quickly looked down at the ground.

And before James explained his little game, you felt someone rush past you with an acoustic guitar in their hands. You felt your stomach churn with anxiety because Zilla had already performed on the show, and she was the only musical guest on the show.

The crew member rushed on stage to hand the guitar to James and then quickly ran off. Your eyes widened and you felt your breath come out short.

“We here at the Late Late Show are obsessed with folklore––and even more obsessed with your songwriting.”

Oh no.

James handed the guitar to Zilla who took it with shaky hands, “And we challenge you to write a mini-song. Right here,” The crowd cheered, “Right now.”

Oh no.

Your jaw dropped the same time as Zilla’s and she whipped her head to look backstage at you with petrified eyes.

“Oh, James…” Zilla nervously laughed as one of her hands gripped the neck of the guitar, “You can’t just write a song in that amount of time.”

One of the guests spoke up from the couch, “But earlier you said that it only took you seven minutes to write the chorus of hoax.”

But there was a small little detail that everyone was missing. It didn’t take Zilla seven minutes to write the chorus to that song…It took you seven minutes to write it.

Zilla glared at the guest, “It needed some tweaking after––”

James let out a loud laugh and waved her off, “Oh stop being modest,” he then turned in his seat to face the audience and speak into the camera, “After the break we’ll have a brand new little song from singer-songwriter, Zilla!”

The crowd erupted in cheers while both you and Zilla stood frozen in place. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think Zilla would be in this position. Before every single interview or T.V. appearance, Zilla had her manager carefully pre-screen all of the questions and segments she would be part of to make sure nothing like this happened.

“This is exciting,” Shawn bounced on his feet, and for a moment, you forgot that he was standing next to you, “She always changes topics whenever I try to talk songwriting with her.”

This was definitely not an ideal situation for either her or you.

“That’s…” you looked around to see the audience excitedly talking amongst each other. You heard one girl in the front row say how she couldn’t believe she was going to witness the Zilla write something in front of her. You were beginning to feel increasingly hot with ever second that passed, “That’s one way to put it.”

“And we’re back!”

Zilla’s head whirled around again to look at you, but you turned your head to the side to try and find the nearest trash can in case you threw up.

“Zilla…” James started off with a smirk, “You just sat here looking off to the side…I’m hoping you heard the music in your head.”

The audience laughed, Shawn laughed, and Zilla just sat there in silence.

“Well, go on then,” James gestured to the guitar, “Play us what you wrote.”

At least Zilla knew how to play the guitar, and she started off strumming a random chord as she let out a shaky breath before singing.

“Oh…You make me feel like the sky…So…Blue,” you visibly cringed at her lyrics and were reminded as to why you were hired. But as she continued to sing, you started to feel more and more nauseous, “Oh…I wish you made me feel like…The sun, so bright and…Yellow.”

Everyone was silent.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off her as she still had her eyes shut tight. You knew exactly how she was feeling; embarrassed, nauseous, and utterly humiliated. You took a peak at Shawn and saw that his mouth tugged down in a frown, lips slightly parted, with his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

James’s stare was blank before he let out a forced chuckle, side-eyeing the audience, before he turned his attention back to Zilla, “Nice warm up, but now, let the magic flow and sing us the real song.”

Zilla opened her eyes and took in a deep breath, “That––I told you––You can’t push inspiration.”

James nodded his head, eyes wide in surprise at how Zilla snapped at him. Zilla was always poised, always charming everyone in the room, and never had she ever snapped at anyone in public before. Her jaw was clenched and you saw her shoulders tense up.

“I––I get that,” James tried his best to de-escalate the situation, “But you––your songwriting––You’ve always been so vocal about how you can write so fast, even without inspiration––”

You were surprised Zilla hadn’t snapped the neck of the guitar in half with how strong her grip was on it. She glared at James, “Well, I’m just not feeling it today––”

“I could’ve written something better,” the guest next to her laughed, which caused the audience to laugh along with them, as they continued their teasing, “Might need to take away your songwriting achievements––”

Zilla snapped her head to her right, turning her anger away from James, to the unknown actor who sat next to her, “I hired the best songwriter in in the business. She writes only the best for me––”

“––Because what you just sang was horrific.” They finished off their sentence.

For the third time tonight, you froze. All of the second-hand embarrassment you felt when she sang disappeared and was replaced with absolutely nothing. You had no thoughts––You just felt empty. You only had a feeling of absolute devastation, paired with a slight ringing in your ear, as your throat closed up.

You thought that her revelation couldn’t be heard by the actor talking over her. You thought that no one caught her slip up. But with the stunned look James had on his face, a few audible gasps of confusion from the audience, and Shawn stiffening up next to you…You knew that she blew her own cover because she didn’t know how to keep her cool.

James cleared his throat, “Your…Songwriter? You have someone else write songs for you?”

Zilla’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as she realized her mistake, and her face lost color, “Well, no––Of course not––It’s me––I’m my own songwriter––”

The other guest to Zilla’s left let out a snort, “There’s no way you wrote exile––”

“And we’ll be back after the break!” James interrupted the trio on the couch before Zilla completely lost her head.

Right as the studio lights lit up more of the room, Zilla tore off her mic and stormed off the stage. Her hands were balled tight into fists as you could visibly see her face turn a darker shade of red with each stomp she took toward you. You felt your heartbeat stop as you noticed her fiery glare was tunnel visioned toward you.

“She––You write her songs?”

Oh, shit.

For a moment, you forgot that Shawn was standing next to you because all you were focused on was the death glare Zilla continued to shoot your way as she walked toward you. You had been at the end of many of her glares, but nothing compared to how she looked at you now. Everything she had built her career on was crumbling and you knew she was going to blame you.

You rapidly shook your head, and when you looked up at Shawn, all you saw was betrayal and sadness, “No––Of course not––How’d you ever come to that conclusion––”

“You’re always in the studio when she’s supposed to be there,” Shawn cut you off, “She never wants to talk about songwriting while you––we’ve––been writing songs together,” his eyes widened as you saw something click in his mind, “Invisible String…” His voice tapered off as he mentioned the song, “You––You said you were just holding onto it for her.”

As you felt your heart plummet down your throat and into your stomach, you continued to shake your head, “I was just holding it on for her––It’s not––I––”

“I gave you a suggestion to change a lyric and it…You changed it,” his eyes that were full of despair suddenly narrowed at you.

Your voice cracked as he took a step away from you, “Shawn––”

He shook his head, “You lied––”

“This is all your fault,” Zilla shouted at you as she took hold of your elbow, spinning you away from Shawn to face her wrath, “If you could’ve––”

“How is this my fault?!”

Zilla shook with anger as you saw fire in her eyes, “It’s just––You,” she stomped her foot as she continued to throw her tantrum, “It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t been so caught up in writing with Shawn you would’ve been more focused on me. Because newsflash,” she took a step forward, “You still work for me.”

“You––Y/n? So she is your ghostwriter?”

Zilla’s eyes widened because she forgot that Shawn was also backstage with you. And she basically just confirmed everything she tried so hard to deny when she was on stage.

You were long forgotten as Zilla turned to face Shawn. She tried to take hold of his hands, but he shook her off and took a step back, “It’s––We have a partnership––We both write–––”

“You take credit for the songs that Y/n writes,” Shawn said it more as a statement than a question, but his voice was still one of disbelief.

Zilla’s face crumbled. She knew the only hold she had on Shawn was that he thought she wrote all her own music, “Shawn––”

“Zilla,” her manager came rushing toward her with panic written all over their face, “This––This is bad. We need to do some serious damage control––”

“The show––It’s pre-recorded,” Zilla hastily said, “Can’t we––Is there any way we can pay them to edit it out?”

Her manager grimaced as they shook their head, “Someone had their phone out, recorded the whole thing, and posted it to Twitter.” Zilla let out a noise that was a mix between a cry and whine, “Billboard already has a whole article written. TMZ is having a field day…” Her manager rubbed their temples, “It’s really not looking good.”

This time, Zilla did let out a soft cry as she tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. Everything she built her career on––The authenticity of songwriting––It was over.

“And you,” her manager gave you a disinterested look, “You should probably leave. If people saw you two together they might think––”

“Loud and clear,” you grumbled at them, not feeling the least bit sorry that Zilla had a meltdown on television and that it was all on video. This was the Zilla you knew. This was the “famed” singer-songwriter you had to deal with for years. She was rude, nasty, and the most self-centered musician in the industry.

With a deep breath, you were about to turn around and leave, but if this was how they were treating you after everything you gave up for her, you wanted to make one thing clear, “Don’t ever come to me asking for another song again.” You angrily breathed out, “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer as I expect that she,” you glared at Zilla, “Violated some term in the contract by admitting to having a ghostwriter.”

You whirled around, hoping that would be the last time you saw Zilla until you had to meet again to officially terminate your contract. When your back was facing her––all you heard was her crying––but you couldn’t find the one person who deserved an apology.

Shawn was gone.

----

Two months after the public meltdown Zilla had on James Corden, people were still trying to figure out who the ghostwriter was. But unlike the day you signed the contract at sixteen, there was an extra person who knew that you were Zilla’s ghostwriter. Shawn was added to the list of you, your roommate, your entertainment lawyer, Zilla’s manager, and Zilla herself that knew your secret identity.

Zilla had come out with a tearful apology less than twenty-four hours after multiple music publications came out calling her a fraud. And the next time that you saw her in person was with your entertainment lawyer to terminate the contract. When the contract was labeled “null and void” it felt like the chains Zilla had around your wrist were broken.

And ever since Zilla confirmed she’d been working with a ghostwriter in her tearful YouTube apology video, the internet had not stopped searching. In her video she said, “out of respect to the writer I worked so closely with over the years, I’m not revealing their identity.”

It was a low blow. Because everything about that sentence was a lie. The two of you never worked close together on any songs and you knew she had little to no respect for you. She made that clear during the years you worked for her.

Even after everything…You still liked the anonymity that came with the deal. Especially now, if you were to come out as her ghostwriter, you would have the attention of the world. And while you wanted credit for your work, you didn’t know if you were ready to be put on that stage yet.

But the thing that killed you the most was not being able to explain everything to Shawn.

He hadn’t responded to any of the messages you left him. You felt a pang of pain in your chest whenever you pulled up your messages with him and read back through your texts. You listened to the voice notes he sent you a three in the morning when he was struck with inspiration and you mourned the ridiculous selfies he sent you.

You had taken up a hobby of cooking complicated recipes, that needed your full attention, to keep yourself from hyperfocusing on the regret you felt by not explaining the situation to Shawn sooner. As you put the beef wellington in the oven, coming to a painful understanding that you would probably never hear from Shawn again, your phone dinged on the counter.

Two months after not hearing from him…He sent you a text. It was simple, and to a stranger looking in on your friendship, they wouldn’t know what it meant. But you understood it loud and clear.

Music lesson in twenty?

You yelled out to Mia––telling her to keep an eye out on the oven––as you grabbed your keys and dashed out the door. After you buckled up, you sent him a response––of course––and broke about every traffic law in the book as you raced to the coffee shop you always had your “music lessons” at.

Your park job was pitiful, but it didn’t matter, because you made it to the coffee shop in a record thirteen minutes with only one person on your mind. Automatically, your feet carried you through the coffee shop and to the back patio. You were about to sit at an empty table when you saw that your music partner was already sitting at one.

He was slumped down on the chair, arms tightly crossed over his chest, and even though he was wearing sunglasses you knew that he saw you enter. But unlike all the other times you had your music lessons, he didn’t jump up and wave his hands above his head.

Like routine, you weaved through the tables until you got to him.

You stood in front of him for the first time since the James Corden incident, and even though you could feel the irritation he felt toward you…You noticed two cups of coffee on the table. He had his usual black drip coffee and there was a cappuccino.

“Light on the foam with an extra shot of espresso,” Shawn mumbled.

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t say anything. You promptly sat down and circled your hands around the mug. Because even though it was October, you still felt cold in California.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments longer; Shawn was still slumped in his chair while you sat with perfect posture, wanting to be ready for anything that came your way.

It was a silence that came when two people understand each other.

You let out a sigh as you looked at the latte art this particular coffee shop was known for, before you looked up at him with wide apologetic eyes, “I––I know saying sorry isn’t enough of an apology.” Shawn stayed slumped as he nodded his head. You saw your reflection in his sunglasses and gulped, “And not telling you because I was contractually obligated to keep quiet about being her ghostwriter…” you let out a pathetic laugh, “Just sounds shallow and shitty.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Why did you do it?

Truthfully, you didn’t think you had it in you to captivate the attention of record labels and you didn’t think you were interesting enough for a fanbase. Your plan was to hopefully get a publishing deal, write songs for that specific music publishing house, and have various artists cut your songs for their albums. But then you caught Zilla’s attention. And just like how she was with everything else in her life, she was selfish and wanted your talent all to herself.

Wanting to stall before you answered, you picked up the cappuccino and took a sip, but even beneath his sunglasses, you could feel his hard stare on you.

You sighed, “I––I didn’t like the idea of being in front of people. I was sixteen, didn’t want to be pulled away from home, and I felt like I was better suited for writing and not performing.”

You tapped your fingers on the side of the ceramic mug, “And before I knew it…Zilla heard one of my demos floating around a publishing company, liked it enough to cut it, and then it turned into signing a contract with her to be her ghostwriter.”

Shawn shook his head as he leaned forward, taking off his sunglasses, tired eyes staring straight into yours as he rested his elbows on the table, “Why’d you let her pretend that she wrote your songs?”

Shawn briefly covered his face with his hands, before looking at you with a pained expression, “As a songwriter, I can’t…Just thinking about someone else claiming my feelings as their own?” The look he gave you made you want to hide in a cave for the rest of your life, “Why did you do that?”

You sucked in a breath and shrugged your shoulders, “I––I’m not sure.”

He nodded his head, not because he understood your answer, but in understanding that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you.

“How’d you do it?” He stared straight into your eyes, not backing down until he got this answer out of you, “I looked at the songwriting credits and they were all under her name. I searched every performing rights organization database and saw that she––you––whoever––was with B.M.I. And I called the people I knew there and they said that they didn’t have anyone by your name.”

He let out a defeated sigh, “The only person they had registered for her songs,” the fact that he couldn’t even say Zilla’s name had you smiling just a tad, “Was a Zilla Greene.”

You nodded with a sad smile, “That’s me.”

Shawn tilted his head and scrunched his eyebrows together, “No, that’s not––Zilla Greene––That’s Zilla, not you––”

You shook your head and held up a hand to him, he quickly stopped talking and let you explain, “When Zilla approached me to be her ghostwriter, it was her manager’s idea to have Zilla––whose real name is Willow––perform under a stage name that synced up with a pseudonym for me.” Shawn slowly nodded his head, “So that way if anyone were to look at the songwriting credits and search her up on a database,” you gave him a pointed look, “It would just look like it was still her stage name. First name, last name, and all.”

Shawn let out a small laugh of disbelief, “I can’t believe you pulled it off for years.”

You shared his laugh and took a sip of your coffee, feeling a small sense of dread in your stomach, “And it would’ve kept going on if she didn’t practically admit it on James Corden.”

The atmosphere went back to feeling tense.

“So, are you…” Shawn lifted his head and looked at the people sitting around them, before he leaned into the middle of the table, whispering, “Still her ghostwriter?”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head, “She technically broke our contract so, no,” you genuinely smiled for the first time when talking about Zilla, “I don’t write for her anymore.”

Shawn took a sip of his coffee before he mirrored your smile, “All this time…” He looked at you with a hint of remorse, “Whenever I told you how much I wanted to write with Zilla,” he smiled sadly, “I was actually writing with her.”

You nodded your head, “Don’t feel bad,” you waved him off, “I knew the whole time that it was me you wanted to write with.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and lightly nudged his foot against your leg under the table. At the gesture, you didn’t try to hide the blinding smile that overtook your face.

“I was literally fangirling over you in front of you,” he briefly looked down at the table, letting out a chuckle, before looking back up at you with soft eyes, “And I didn’t even know it.”

You smirked, “Don’t worry, it still boosted my ego all the more.”

Shawn let out a loud laugh as he flipped you off just when you were about to take another sip of the drink he bought for you.

“So…” Shawn started off slow, briefly breaking eye contact with you, “I’m not sure if you’re comfortable with it yet, but I…I’d be honored if I could credit you as a songwriter on my next album.”

After years of being brushed under the rug, years of someone taking advantage of your feelings for their own monetary benefit, having Shawn saying he would be honored to credit you––actually you––for your work…You felt yourself get choked up at the thought.

You sniffled, trying to hold back the small tears of joy you felt behind your eyes in, “I would really appreciate that.”

Shawn’s smile was wide as he nodded once at you, before he leaned over to reach for something under the table.

He pushed his songwriting journal over towards you and opened it up to a page with music notes. You looked down and his messy note placement as you heard the composition in your head.

“So, I’ve been practicing arpeggios,” you looked up from the journal to see a sheepish smile on his face, “And while the sound of broken chords sound really cool,” and again, under the table, he brushed his foot on top of yours, “I’d like it better if the chords were together.”

You smiled as you felt a familiar warm feeling in the pit of your stomach cause a shiver to run through your whole body.

“Together,” you repeated his words that most definitely held a double meaning, “I think I’d like if the chords were together, too.”

taglist (add / remove yourself!): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @now-that-i-saw-u, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @vinylmendes, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @crossedties @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm

#Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes x me #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn mendes writings #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes oneshots #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes angst

477 notes · View notes