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ihrtchrissturniolo · 1 year ago

Text

YOU LOOK CUTE

Chris x Reader

y/n is used:)

she/her pronouns are used !

trigger warnings/ authors note: cussing and making out

summary: you do chris skincare<3

Everytime you asked chris to do his skincare, he'd either say, "no ma, maybe tomorrow" or, "it might mess up my face" even when you reassured him it wouldn't.

but you haven't asked him in a while, a couple months actually, so today you were going to ask him again.

"hey mama" chris says as you walk towards him and he places his arm around you.

"hey love, can i please do your skincare?" you ask him and lean into him, looking up at him.

"y/n" he sighs and looks down at you before giving you a kiss on the lips.

"chris" you say, mocking his tone before giggling slightly and he jokingly rolls his eyes at you.

"you know what? fine, you can" he says and holds your hand.

"really?" you ask as a smile appears onto your face

"mhm" he replies.

"okay, follow me" you say as you bring him upstairs to the bathroom.

"okay, so first is your cleanser" you explain to him as you grab the bottle and pump some of it onto his face and quickly wash your hands.

"baby it's gonna fall off my face" he exclaims and you giggle slightly before starting to rub it into his face gently.

"okay, does it burn or anything?" you ask him, getting your toner ready.

"no ma'am" he says, trying to get a reaction out of you and you side eye him slightly before saying, "wash this off"

"alright" he says and you step out of his way as he turns on the water and starts rubbing it off.

"ready?" you ask as he turns back to you before wiping off his hands onto his shirt.

"mhm" he replies and goes back to where he was standing.

"okay, next is toner-" you are cut off by chris singing lust by lil skies.

"your so weird" you giggle before rubbing the toner into his face.

"you love me" he replies to you and you nod in response.

"okay, next would be a mask but i don't have any right now, so we're moving on" you explain to him.

"okay baby" he replies as you grab your serum.

"almost done" you explain to him as you put the serum on his face and gently rub it in.

he places his hands on your waist as you continue to rub it into his face, his eyes on you the whole time.

"okay, does that sting any? if anything i put on your face stings, tell me." you explain to him.

"nothing stings love." he reassures you and you nod slightly before grabbing your eye cream and you put two dots underneath both eyes and gently rub them in, making sure you don't poke him in the eyes.

He notices the way your gently touching his face and he smiles slightly before looking you in the eyes, you returning the look.

"you look cute" you giggle before putting your stuff back into your bag.

"you look pretty, mama" he replies before giving you a kiss on the lips and you feel butterflies form in your stomach.

you return the kiss and he brings his hands higher, near your stomach.

"we can finish this later, nick and matt might need to use the bathroom." he says, cutting you off.

"your right." you reply as you open the bathroom door.

"i genuinely hate getting into peoples business, but what the fuck took you guys so long." nick asks as he stops walking down the hall.

"i was doing his skincare" you reply simply.

he just gives you two a look before continuing to walk.

author:

i feel like the way i write is giving such character ai vibes idk why

master list <3

tags: @mattsneezing @sleepysturnss @readsturniolo @thematthewlover

#christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo edit #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #ihrtchrissturniolo #sturniolo #chris x reader #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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ellewords · 4 years ago

Note

his smile is colder than you remember. or maybe it’s his eyes. his once vibrantly warm brown eyes now look a little dead.

“tooru, hi!” you chirp nervously, looking around the large cafe like there might be more people to recognize while you grip the hot cup of tea in your hands tightly despite the way it was beginning to burn your palms through the sturdy paper. “when... when did you get back from argentina?”

he doesn’t respond at first, gaze penetrating your face, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to take in your aged features or make you uncomfortable. you figure it’s the latter when you start to squirm and only then does he look satisfied enough to speak.

“i’m just visiting for a few weeks. needed a break. how have you been?” he asks kindly, but something in his tone is just a little bit off. strained even.

“i’ve been... i’ve been good, actually,” you mutter, huffing a tiny laugh as you realize that it feels true for once. “just got my dream job, so things are probably going to get hectic pretty soon, but i’m excited, you know? it’s what i’ve been working for for years.”

oikawa looks like he wants to smile—a real, genuine smile where the corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly and his cheeks flush a pretty pink from how wide it is and his face eases up just a tiny bit—but he hesitates, biting his lip instead.

“that’s amazing, (y/n),” he says, and try as he might, he can’t hide the affection coating his words. “i’m so proud of you. we, we should celebrate. i know you must’ve worked hard for it, so let me treat you.”

your cheeks warm at the offer, nodding happily. maybe things aren’t as tense as you thought.

“that would be great! how long are you here for? we should make sure it isn’t too close to your leaving day so you don’t stress—“

“babe!” a voice calls suddenly, and you perk up immediately at its familiarity.

you turn in search of the person, and you can’t help the grin you shoot them. you wave frantically before holding up a finger to indicate that you would be just a few minutes more. they nod in understanding, and you watch as they point in the direction of a corner where you can see your things and theirs lying on top of a booth. making sure you see, they wait until you nod in confirmation, smiling one more time, before they head in the direction of the table.

your smile shrinks slightly as they walk away, but the fondness doesn’t. shaking your head as if to rearrange your thoughts, you turn back to oikawa.

his eyes are dead again, but they aren’t looking at you anymore. instead, they follow your partner as they move through the crowd of people in the cafe. then he scoffs softly, and he returns your gaze.

“so you really did it, huh?” there’s a bite in the way he says it, and you gasp softly at his change in demeanor.

it reminds you of the bitter, insecure boy you met in middle school. the boy you saw wandering the halls with a fake air around him, one of confidence and power. the boy who looked like he would crack if you stared at him too long, if you bothered to try to get to know him more than he allowed. the boy he was around you before you fell in love.

“did what?” you ask cautiously.

he scoffs again, and now his lips are pulled back in that domineering, sugary sweet grin he developed in high school. you hate that grin.

“you moved on.”

and it hits you like an icicle to the heart, the coldness of his voice.

“yeah. isn’t that,” you trail off before starting again. “you told me to, tooru, so i did. what’s wrong with that?”

you want to throw your tea when he scoffs once again, like you’re stupid for not understanding why he’s acting so weird.

“there’s nothing wrong with that,” he says. “it’s just funny, is all. weren’t you the one who said you would never let go?”

the cup in your hand caves slightly as your grip squeezes tighter around it. the liquid inside splashes over the edge just a little, and you hiss when it lands on your thumb.

“that... that was a long time ago. before you left,” you say, and you hate that it sounds like you’re trying to justify some wrongdoing because you haven’t done anything wrong.

“i know. i just figured you’d actually stick to it. i, i just, i guess i should have known you wouldn’t stick around.”

the cup crushes in your hand, but this time, you don’t feel the sting of the tea meeting your skin. your mind races too much.

he’s doing that thing he used to do in high school, you realize, when he was hurt but didn’t want to confront it. the thing where he would say things, things he didn’t mean, so that he could hurt you in the same way he was hurting. the thing he didn’t always realize he was doing. he just desperately wanted to be the one with the upper hand, and as much as he cared about people, he cared about protecting himself more.

you’d fallen victim to that thing a number of times back then when you knew that he needed the support to get through it. he just needed someone to care enough to help him. you could understand him then. but now...

now you didn’t understand him at all.

“no,” you spit out, and he jumps at the way the cup crumbles in your hands, and he jumps again when he hears the frustration in your voice.

“no, you don’t get to be mad at me when you’re the one who decided to leave. i was willing to come with you and support you and stay by your side, but it was you that told me not to. and still! still, i said i would wait for you, until you were ready to have me again, but there were no calls, no messages, no letters, no nothing!

“and i saw you, on your socials! you looked happy. happier than you ever did here. you looked so happy, and you looked like, like, you looked like you had moved on. from japan, from the past, from... from me... so yeah, i figured it was time i did the same, because if you were happy, than i was happy. that’s all i ever wanted for you, tooru, and you were, so it seemed fitting that i let go.

“but i refuse to be made to feel bad when this is what you said you wanted from me! i spent months wondering if i made the right choice when i let you get on that plane all alone, if there was more that i could have done to make you realize how much i cared, and supported you, and loved you! and i’ve finally realized that i did enough! that we just weren’t meant to be. i moved on because you did. because i was ready to.

“so no, tooru, you don’t get to be upset about how everything played out. you don’t get to be upset with me.”

your chest is heaving by the time you’re finished. it almost hurts to breathe, but you don’t have time to think about that because the noise of the cafe surges back into your ears. you look around, suddenly embarrassed about your outburst, but you’re relieved to see that no one is focused on your words. they’re all frantic about your hands and the tea that spilled to the floor, steam still floating up from the puddle that formed at your feet.

except oikawa. his cheeks are that pretty pink you used to love, and his mouth is opening and closing like a fish. he’s staring at you with those same dead eyes, but for a second, you think you see something flicker in them. he opens his mouth, this time looking like he’s going to say something, but before he has the chance, another distressed voice cuts in.

“oh my gosh, love, your hands!” your partner yelps, suddenly by your side, fumbling clumsily as they throw your things over their shoulder so they can tend to you. “oh gosh, um, excuse me, can you grab some of those napkins for us, please?”

they’re talking to oikawa, who seems to blink out of his daze just then before grabbing a handful of napkins to give them.

your partner taps the napkins across your hands desperately, and they’re holding you so gently and with so much care that you finally feel the burn of the fallen tea. thankfully, the burn isn’t anything too serious, but the skin throbs visibly and aches slightly. your eyes water. they notice.

“hey, no, it’s alright, okay? look at me, love. i’ll get you another one, okay, but first i need to make sure you’re okay,” they mutter to you, eyes darting across your face with worry.

you sniffle, shaking your head instantly, and then you lean heavily into their side. you’re tired and your eyes hurt and your chest feels so tight, and you just want to go home. it’s almost as if they can read your mind because before you can utter the words, they’re mumbling into your hair that they’ll make you some at home instead. they start to guide you to the exit; with every step away from the scene you had made, you feel lighter.

you had loved tooru, all those years ago, and you had wanted him to come back for so long. you’d hoped that one day he would wake up and realize how much you yearned to be with him, or that he should call you just to see how you were. you’d hoped that he would realize he still felt the same way you did. but you could only put up with so much, after being left in the dark for so long, after dreaming for so long, after being disappointed for so long. you realized that now.

you were happy now, even if it wasn’t by his side.

oikawa can see it, the happiness that follows the two of you out the door. he longs for it, but he doesn’t move in pursuit of it. instead, when the two of you are finally out of sight, oikawa allows another scoff to fall past his lips, but this time, tears fall from his eyes as well.

-💛

— from elle ! this was pure pain but in the best possible way ?? like wow 💛anon you are absolutely amazing and talented please this made my heart actually ache oh gosh ;-; you are so so good i don’t think words are enough to describe you aaaaa !! anyways for my addition (under the cut as always), i decided to do a lil flashback before oikawa decided to come back. i was v intrigued by oikawa leaving reader in the dark so this scenario stemmed from that. idk if this will help, but i listened to taylor swift’s i almost do on repeat while writing

notes / warnings : timeskip!oikawa x gn!reader, scenario, angst, wc: ~1k (perhaps my longest margins entry ??)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Twenty-seven.

You’ve reached out to him twenty-seven times today. This included calls, text messages, and voice memos.

They were always sweet; always checking up on him, asking how he is, if he’s getting along with his new team, if practice was tiring, if he was taking care of himself. You always thought of him first, put him above yourself. Oikawa knows it shouldn’t be that way, but the small, selfish part of himself couldn’t help but love it. Him being oceans away didn’t seem to change that.

The front door shuts just as his phone lights up, your name appearing on the lock screen. The heart by your name taunts him, reminding him of what once was. Oikawa’s eyes scan over your text message, tears pricking at the corners. He’s unsure if it’s from the brightness of the screen contrasting with the darkness of his apartment, or your words. Possibly both.

[ y/n <3 : it’s getting late over there, i hope you’re getting some rest. take care… ]

Oikawa bites his lip, closing out the notification as soon as he finished reading, immediately regretting it. His lock screen is still a picture of the two of you, mocking him. But if he shut his eyes tight enough, he could almost imagine it.

The pale blue sky, the sun shining down on the two of you, the cool breeze blowing through his hair, the smile that spread across your face, the faint pink flush on his features, his arm around your shoulders, the way you leaned into his touch. Your presence is warmth, your eyes brought him comfort, your hand resting on his cheek gave him peace.

His phone pings again, snapping Oikawa out of his trance. Another message.

[ y/n <3 : i love you. ]

Twenty-nine.

Twenty-nine calls, texts, and voice messages. You’ve reached out to him twenty-nine times today. Yesterday you reached out to him thirty-five times. Last week it was at fifty.

But Oikawa Tooru didn’t answer a single one.

A sigh leaves him, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He doesn’t bother turning the lights on, the quiet sounds of his shoes hitting the wooden floor fill the room. Oikawa’s steps are slow, like each one physically pained him to take. Nighttime was always the hardest to bear, the most difficult to resist. It’s when the temptation to call you is at its peak.

Oikawa stands in front of his living room window, hands in his pockets. The view of the city never failed to take his breath away; bright lights from the buildings that towered over the hundreds of people on the street, their nights only beginning as they hopped from one bar to another. Practice was too much today, his body beaten and bruised from the long hours of setting, receiving, blocking, and serving. There’s a strain in his muscles that he can’t shake off, and if it weren’t for that he would have been part of the city nightlife too.

Nights are the hardest. He doesn’t have volleyball or his teammates to keep him occupied. He’s not dancing his heart out with strangers who vaguely recognize him, music blaring in his ears, taking pictures to post on social media the very next day. Night are the hardest because his mind always leads him to you.

Midnight for him meant that it was midday for you. Have you eaten yet? How is work treating you? Are you getting along with your coworkers? …did you think of him like he always thought of you? Questions that he could have the answers to within a few seconds; all he had to do was reach for his phone, look for your name — the only one with a heart next to it, and press the call button.

Instead, Oikawa reads through your texts. The ones where you ask him how he’s doing, the ones where you quickly summarize your day, the ones where you tell him you love him. His heart flutters before it aches, the grip on his phone tightening.

His heart has always belonged to you, Oikawa knew it from the very day you met. He knew it when he confessed. He knew it when he asked you to be his. He knew it as you went on dates, as you celebrated anniversaries. He knew it through every fight, in every kiss. He knew it when he got on the plane that took him miles away from you.

Oikawa also knew you deserved better than him. He knew you deserved someone present; someone who could be there with you, physically. Clearly, he can’t be the one to do that anymore. This is for you. At the end of it all, what he’s doing is for you. Maybe it would make everything easier. You’d think he’d move on. You’d hate him. It’s for the best, right?

He hopes he’s wrong, but Oikawa persists anyways.

Out of sight, out of mind. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

It was much more difficult than Oikawa thought it would be; after all, you’re probably just as stubborn and persistent as he is. His phone lights up, signalling a new text.

[ y/n <3 : i really hope you’re okay, tooru. ]

This makes thirty.

He bites the inside of his cheek, a futile attempt to stop the tears that streamed down his face. A choked up noise leaves the back of his throat, surprising himself. He could have ended both his and your pain, all he had to do was type out a reply.

But the flurry of contradicting emotions stop him from doing so. Oikawa wants you to live your life, to move on, to forget him, to be happy without him. At the same time, he wanted you to wait for him, with open arms and that smile he loved.

His fingers move on their own, slowly but surely, as quiet sobs raked through his entire body.

[ i’m always going to love you. ]

Oikawa almost sends it. But he doesn’t.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

send me a hc / or a scenario ! <3 | written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky29 @sakusasimpbot @aoirohi @kokogxddess @livy384 @itachislut @crapimahuman @dkeela @duhsies @rmjace @ryustanaka @sanchooinc @sassyglassesbunny @cemeiia @nikiniki743 @meiankolia @tooru--o

join my hq taglist here. <3

#I gotta stop hurting my baby sigh #I almost do really provided my soundtrack for this #...I bet you think I either moved on or hate you...bc each time you reach out there's no reply <//3 #written on the margins 🔖#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #oikawa imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #🎐 — 💛anon! <3

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ifmywishescametrue · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love. I adore your work. Can you write for the prompt “You need to get out of there!” for stevetony? I’m a sucker for za *angst* and I can already imagine tiny Stark being his stupid adorable self and getting in trouble.

hiii thank you!! idk how this ended up being 3k words, but i hope that you like it!

It happens so quickly that Tony doesn’t even have time to really process it. One moment things are as close to fine as they can be in the middle of a fight. He’s close to breaking through the system, just a few keystrokes and a minute away from being able to stop the near army of robots right from the source. The next is filled with blaring alarms and dust starting to fall from the ceiling, though he hardly notices through the laser-focus. He hears Steve’s voice through the comm line in his ear and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond.

“Iron Man, you need to get out of there!” Steve says again, firmer and louder, and this time Tony opens his mouth to tell him off for being distracting right when he’s almost done, but the words die on his tongue at the first crashing beam.

All he actually manages are a few ineloquent curses muttered under his breath while he scrambles to finish his task. Adrenaline and fear are coursing through him in equal parts, but the fear isn’t for himself. It’s for what happens if he doesn’t do this. If the building takes him out before he can take out the enemy, leaving the other five with far too many opponents to handle on their own. He can see it now - their blood on his hands because he wasn’t fast enough. Just one job to do and he couldn’t do it right.

There’s more shouting on the comm line, more than just Steve, but Tony can’t take the time to listen to it. The floor is shaking beneath him, and the dust in the air has accumulated to cloud his vision. He’s thankful he has the foresight to ventilate the suit through numerous filters, otherwise it would be getting hard to breathe.

There’s flashing on the monitors in front of him, and he knows he’s done it by the way everything goes quiet for just a second, then explodes back into sound. He hears the relief in Clint’s voice, followed by the barely concealed panic in Steve’s as he urges him to get out of the building yet again.

Tony powers up the suit to go back out through the shattered window he came through in the first place. No longer focused on dismantling the system, he realizes that the window doesn’t exist anymore. The wall has collapsed on itself, the left side of the room blocked off with rubble. His initial scan of the building showed another floor above him and two below, joined only by one set of stairs, but those were off to the left, too. The suit could probably make it through the wall directly, if he got enough power going. Might break a bone or two, he thinks, but with no other way out, he’ll take the risk. As he scans the walls again for the weakest point, he says into the comm, “Be out in a sec. Maybe, uh, get ready to catch me.”

Whatever Steve says next comes through layers of static, cutting in and out until the only word Tony can make out is his own name. It’s the last thing he hears as he turns up the repulsors to full speed and aims for the center of the wall.

______________

All things considered, it could have gone worse. He has a concussion that makes him feel dizzy and a couple of large gashes in his abdomen from where the suit had caved in just a bit that required more than a few stitches. Two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder top it off, but he doesn’t need to be in the hospital for more than a day. A precaution to make sure his concussion doesn’t turn into something worse.

He tells himself that the short stay is why Steve didn’t show. Natasha was the first to come, with her own fresh bandages on her arms and stitches in a jagged cut on her forehead. She told him about the end of the fight from the outside, and the way all the robots suddenly came to a stop, just like Tony predicted when he told them his plan for going into that building in the first place. Clint and Thor come together after. Their loud voices make his headache worsen, and the laughter makes his ribs ache, but he can’t bring himself to be upset about it. Pepper ends up kicking them out when she arrives and notices that he winces a little every time Thor speaks. Bruce is last, arriving the next morning after he’s recovered from those few hours as the Hulk, but still looking tired from it. He sits with Tony while the doctor tells him about all the things he shouldn’t be doing for a while, then rides home with him.

In the elevator, Tony thinks about telling JARVIS to take him to the workshop, but one stern look from Bruce makes him reconsider.

“It’s really not that bad,” Tony tries to argue.

“You’re not allowed to move your right shoulder.”

“But my hands are working just fine.”

“You can’t even stand up straight. You’re actually swaying right now.”

Tony shrugs with just the left side of his body and grimaces when it pulls on his broken ribs. “So I’ll sit down.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make me physically restrain you.”

“Kinky,” Tony jokes, but it falls flat because Bruce clearly isn’t in the mood for his humor and his own heart isn’t in it, anyway. He sighs and recognizes the losing battle. “Fine, take me to the penthouse, J.”

Bruce walks out of the elevator with him, hovering close behind like he’s prepared to catch him if he suddenly passes out. Which is fair, Tony supposes, because his vision goes dark around the edges a couple of times before he makes it to his bed. It’s why Tony only complains a little when Bruce kneels to take his shoes off for him when he sits down at the edge of the mattress.

“Alright, stop that, I can take care of myself,” Tony says, pushing on Bruce’s shoulder. Except the pain in his ribs and head that he gets when he bends over makes him audibly groan, and he feebly sits back up. “Okay, nevermind. You’ve got it covered. Even if this does make the top twenty most embarrassing list.”

“It makes it that high?” Bruce teases, and Tony weakly kicks at him.

Out of his shoes, Tony maneuvers himself under the covers the best he can, trying to find a position that doesn’t make any of his injuries hurt. The pain medication he’s on is fairly low grade by choice, because he hates the stronger stuff, but he’s wondering now if the fuzzy head it gives him might be worth it.

Bruce lingers a little awkwardly after, so Tony half-jokingly asks, “Are you going to stay and watch me sleep?”

Rolling his eyes, Bruce says, “No, but it’s my shift to make sure you don’t do something stupid, so I’ll be in the living room.”

“Your shift?” Tony raises his eyebrows.

“Nat’s up next. Clint’s after her.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed babysitting.” He tries to sound annoyed, but he isn’t, really. It’s almost nice that they’re concerned.

“Thor’s on night shift,” Bruce smiles. “Figured he’s the one most capable of carrying you back to bed if needed.”

After his absence at the hospital, the lack of mention of Steve sticks out even more. Not that it wouldn’t have anyway. His life revolves around the presence of Steve a little more than he wants to admit, but no one else needs to know that he plans his appearances in the communal kitchen in the mornings based on when Steve will be back from his runs or that it’s never a coincidence that he only remembers to be on time for team dinners when Steve is the one that did the cooking.

His face must reveal enough for him, though, because Bruce’s smile softens with just a touch of sadness and something that’s a little too close to pity for his liking. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just reminds Tony that he’ll be right in the other room if he needs anything, and Tony thinks about it while he’s trying to fall asleep.

It was almost something, he thinks. Him and Steve. It seemed like it to him, anyway, if the recent interactions were anything to go by. He didn’t think he was imagining the change in the way that Steve had been looking at him lately. The way the glances seemed to linger, eyes flitting down to his lips and back up again, and his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink every time Tony caught him staring. Then there were the almost dates - restaurants Steve always claimed he’d been meaning to try, movies, museums, baseball games. Always on nights all the others just happened to be unavailable, leaving just the two of them. He swears he saw Steve glaring at Clint the one time he actually said yes to one of those half-hearted invitations. Clint’s yes turned to a no just a moment later.

There’s a new ache in his chest that has nothing to do with the injuries when he realizes just how wrong he was about it all. He must have read too much into it. Mistaken Steve’s friendliness for genuine affection. He would be here otherwise.

______________

True to their word, his friends really do stay around the clock, though the shifts aren’t exactly accurate. Natasha and Clint usually come together, and Bruce doesn’t usually leave for a while after they do. Someone’s always there in a way that would border on stifling if he didn’t secretly soak up all of the attention with fervor. It’s a few days before his dislocated shoulder no longer needs a sling and his concussion has mostly cleared up so he can do more than lounge around. Steve is painfully absent for all of it, and he finds out on the third day that he’s left for a mission without saying goodbye. Natasha distracts him from how badly that stings by asking him which shade of nail polish she should paint his toenails with. He ends up with glittery pink and a pit in his stomach.

It’s a week after the bruises have already faded that Steve comes back, and Tony pettily decides that two can play the avoidance game. His hurt has morphed from sadness into anger, because even if Steve didn’t share his feelings he could have at least bothered to ask how he was. Even a text would have been better than this.

Knowing Steve’s schedule pays off in the opposite way now. He knows when to avoid all of the common areas, like the gym and kitchen. If he needs more coffee in the middle of the day, he knows to go between one and three, because Steve will be in a training session with the new Shield agents. If he shows up a little late for movie night, the only seat left will be the uncomfortable armchair in the corner that no one really likes, but he won’t have to awkwardly avoid touching Steve on the couch.

Days pass like that, with Natasha giving him tired looks every time she catches him sneaking around and Bruce bordering on annoyed with how many times Tony goes to his lab instead of his own just in case Steve decides today is the day he wants to start coming by again. It’s childish, he knows, and it grows even more childish when he reasons that Steve started it first.

He shouldn’t be surprised when the rest of the team decides that enough is enough, though he is surprised that they choose the pantry of all places for it. The ambush happens on a Monday evening, right when Tony is coming back from a long day of meetings that already have him feeling drained. Natasha grabs his arm, and it seems innocent enough at first. Until she pushes him into the pantry and slams the door shut behind him. He nearly topples right into Steve, who catches him by the elbow and rights him before he can fall. There’s the sound of something being dragged in front of the door, then Clint’s voice on the other side.

“Get your shit together, and then you can come out again,” he says.

Tony sputters, flitting between glaring at the door and at Steve. The look towards Steve softens a bit when he realizes that he looks just as confused as Tony, then hardens again when he remembers that he’s still angry at him.

He turns to the door and pounds his fist against it. “Guys, open the damn door. This is fucking ridiculous.”

“So is watching you two avoid each other like the plague,” Bruce says.

“Just talk to each other and stop being dumbasses,” Nat adds.

Tony sighs, and when he turns around, Steve won’t even meet his eyes. He stares down at the floor, shoulders hunched and folded in on himself in a way that makes him look small.

It might be childish again, but Tony doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence first. He slides down to the floor and leans back against the door with every intention of waiting it out. It’s Steve’s famous stubbornness against his own, though, and god only knows how long this could take. He starts counting things on the shelves. Two bottles of ketchup, four boxes of microwaveable popcorn, a jar of pickles. He makes it as far as the tenth different type of cereal before Steve finally says, “I should’ve been there.”

The admission is so quiet it’s barely audible, and Tony glances up to see that Steve still won’t look at him.

“Yeah, you should’ve been,” Tony agrees, and he can’t quite keep the bitterness out of his tone. “Why weren’t you?”

Steve hesitates, and Tony rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Cap. It’s fine. We’re not those kind of friends, I get it. I mean, if you were in the hospital, I’d want to make sure you were okay with my own eyes, but you don’t feel the same. It’s my own fault for thinking that you -”

“I was scared,” Steve cuts him off, and Tony snaps his mouth shut. “I was scared, because you were - you could have died. You don’t even know what it was like watching you fall like that. You didn’t see all the blood. You didn’t have to carry your body to the medics because you were unconscious. All I could think is that you could have been dying, and it would’ve been on me. Because I couldn’t do enough, and I should’ve done more.”

Steve looks like it hurts to even say the words, like he’s reliving the memory of it, but Tony only feels angrier for it. “And how does that translate into ignoring me for weeks? You were scared, so what, you just left?”

Steve nods a little, guilt and shame on his face. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and he’s quieter when he continues, “I ran, and then I felt like shit for running, so I ran some more. I thought -” Steve swallows, finally looking up to meet Tony’s eyes, and Tony can see that his blue eyes are rimmed with red. “I thought you would hate me for it, and now I know that you do.”

Tony tilts his head back, closing his eyes with a sigh, “I don’t hate you. I missed you, and I’m mad at you, but I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Steve asks, and the hope in his voice is enough to make Tony’s heart clench.

“I could never hate you.”

“But can you feel the same way about me that you did before?”

Tony opens his eyes, a fragile smile starting to form. “And how do you think I felt about you before?”

Steve’s cheeks turn red, and he looks away again, but Tony won’t have that. He stands up from the floor, and in the small space it’s only a step before he’s right in front of him. It’s nerve wracking to be the one to reach out first, but he does it anyway. He turns Steve’s face back to him with a hand on his jaw and asks the questions again.

“How do you think I felt before?”

He gets another one of those now familiar looks. Steve’s eyes move down to his lips, lingering there, before returning to Tony’s own eyes again.

“Tony,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Answer the question,” Tony whispers back. “What were we?”

“I don’t know what we were, but I know what I wanted us to be,” Steve says, and Tony quietly waits for him to continue. “I wanted to be yours, and I wanted you to be mine. I still want that, if you can forgive me for running.”

Tony nods, “But you can’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” Steve promises. His hand finds Tony’s hip to pull him in a little closer. “And if you could stop falling from the sky, I would really appreciate that.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I hate that I scared you, but I can’t pretend that I wouldn’t make the exact same choice again. Not when it’s me or everyone else, especially you. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Steve opens his mouth, and Tony can tell he wants to argue it, but instead he sighs. “I would sacrifice myself every time for you.”

Tony smiles, “I know you would, but I’d never let you.”

“Try and stop me,” Steve replies, teasing and light to make Tony laugh. His arm wraps around Tony’s back to press them together chest to chest.

Tony tugs on the collar of Steve’s shirt to pull him lower, and Steve takes the hint to finally kiss him like he’s been wanting for so long.

#stevetony #prompts #prompt fill #my writing #my fic #stony #superhusbnads #steve rogers #tony stark

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kakakakashi · 4 years ago

Text

Flightless Bird (Part 1/4)

Merry Christmas @wooobuddyletsgetnasty!!!

I wanted to write this as a gift to someone who I’m honored to know. She’s literally an angel on earth. She is doing so much for others right now, and I wanted to give her this piece for Christmas, as a way to give back to her and to show her how grateful I am for her work and her friendship.

Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Reader

Warnings: cursing, implied tattooing without a doctor’s license, lots of words that don’t make sense, idk, man.

EDIT: OMG! I FORGOT TO ADD THAT THIS HAS MANGA SPOILERS & I HOPE I DIDN’T SPOIL IT FOR ANYBODY! I’M SO SORRY! 😭

Word count: 1,246

A/N: Keigo’s phone screen is shattered like 25/8. Change my mind. Anyway, who else is screeching about the latest chapter.

Checking your watch again, you noted that your latest client was late by thirteen minutes. You’d told him to be on time, but apparently, he had another idea. Glancing through the crowd to absentmindedly people watch, you imagined the crowd’s lives. The businessman on the phone was probably on his way to a meeting. Maybe he worked in finance. Maybe not. The little girl holding onto her mother’s hand made a smile quirk on your lips while she babbled on about her most recent lesson in school. However, a familiar figure in the crowd immediately stole your attention.

Sure, he was wingless and retired after his most recent battle, but he was still famous. This was going to ruin everything. You weren’t about to discuss your illegal tattoo business in front of a well-known hero. He’d surely run you in, and you’d end up with fines up your ass for tattooing without a doctor’s license. The client you were meeting with, Keigo was his name if memory served you well, was definitely not getting off to a good start, first, leaving you hanging, and now putting your ass on the line. It was probably best to ask for a rain check.

Strike that, you were definitely cancelling. Hawks, the famed hero you’d spotted, casually approached the bench on which you were currently seated before her reclined on the opposite end. Even without the vermillion feathers trailing behind him, it was obvious who he was. Pulling your phone out of your pocket to message Keigo, you began to wonder if you should even put in the effort. After all, the guy had missed his appointment.

“Sorry I’m late,” the young hero beside you spoke. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed his iconic honey eyes were focused straight ahead, so you chose to ignore him. However, he continued, “Thanks for agreeing to meet me. I’ve been a fan of your work for years now.”

Raising your gaze from your phone, you skeptically side eyed him. After glancing to see who he could be talking to, you scoffed, “Me?”

“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth twitched up in a small smile, “You’re Y/N, right? The, uh, artist?”

You tried to imagine him sprouting a second head at his words. He had no real proof of who you were, so you knew it was a matter of who could be more convincing. “Sorry, I think you’re mistaken. I’m in marketing.”

It wasn’t a lie. That’s why you specifically chose those words. You ran your own social media page, after all. That’s how you got all your clients. As a matter of fact, you were currently out on business.

“I know.” You glanced at the hero to find him smirking at you with a crooked grin that was usually plastered on magazines. It was obvious he was trying to be charming, and you had to forcibly suppress the impulse to roll your eyes. “That’s how I found you, after all. Although, I can’t really like all your posts from my public account since I am… well… me, and it wouldn’t look good if someone in my line of work was liking photos of your, uh, artwork. I’m guessing you understand since it seems like you recognize me. I’m Keigo.”

You didn’t have to imagine the second head sprouting this time. Genuine confusion flashed across your annoyed expression. “What?”

Upon your disbelief, Hawks reached into his pocket to dig out his phone. He quickly unlocked it before opening the string of messages, holding the shattered screen out for you to read. Sure enough, when you glanced over the messages, you found your exact words in the bubbles. Glancing at the account, you noted the username matched Keigo’s as well. Fuck. You were screwed. You were going to get arrested for sure. Almost reading your mind, Hawks tried to quell your nerves.

“Look, this isn’t some kind of sting operation or anything. I’m coming here as Keigo, not Hawks.” The alias sent a flash of a shadow across his casual expression. The light in his eyes dimmed slightly when he continued in a softer tone, “I can’t do that kind of work anymore… That’s part of why I’m here, actually.”

All the noise of the city went silent to you. This wasn’t a good idea. He was probably lying. After all, he was a trained spy. Although, you couldn’t figure out why they’d send him, of all people, to help capture you. Such a high-profile person wouldn’t be the best choice for this mission, so he could be telling the truth. However, you couldn’t risk anything yet, so you remained still, staring off in front of you and waiting for more information to be offered.

“How about I talk about what I’m looking for?” Keigo figured it was the best way to break the ice, but you remained silent. You weren’t about to give the supposed-ex pro, the master of interrogation and acquiring information, any opening to wipe out everything you’ve worked for. However, while you stared into the sea of people before you, Hawks took your silence as an invitation to continue. “You probably saw the news. My wings got singed off. It left some pretty nasty scars on my back, and I’d really like to cover them up. I thought it might be cool to use some element of my time… in that line of work to remind me that it was all for a reason.”

Without any indication that you were listening, Keigo assumed he was getting nowhere fast. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised with your aloof demeanor, but he still deflated a bit at the thought that his favorite tattoo artist wouldn’t take him on as a new client. Sure, he could go to someone else, but your work hit different to him. He hoped you would be the one to ink him. However, it didn’t look like that was going to turn out, especially when you casually rose from the bench. Keigo watched you shove your fists in your jacket pockets, expecting you to take your leave. However, he was surprised when he heard your voice in that same monotonous timbre.

“Well?” A beat passed while you continued to gaze a hundred miles in front of you. Keigo’s wide eyes glued themselves to your figure, waiting for his response. However, he remained frozen in his spot. “Aren’t you coming? I’ve gotta get a look at your scars in person to see what I’m working with. My place is only a few blocks from here.”

Even if he was trying to set you up, you decidedit wouldn’t hurt if today was a consultation. Keigo and you could exchange information, and simply chat a bit. Maybe you could weasel some information out of him. Obviously, you were nowhere near the caliber of winged hero Hawks, but you were pretty good at reading people. Besides, he had no reason to deceive you. The piece he wanted was going to cost a pretty penny based off of his description, and the risk was worth the payout. Not to mention, taking a chance on him was an awfully appealing gamble.

His expression of cluelessness morphed into a sparkling grin, yet you still didn’t spare him a glance. Although, the little tug of your lips didn’t go unnoticed by Keigo. He quickly stood while you began walking in the direction of your home studio with the retired hero hot on your heels.

#cherry posts about super nerds #cherry has ideas sometimes #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #me @ this fic: be free like... well... *looks at the camera like on the office*#i finally started writing MHA guys. i have so many ideas. you have no idea.

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spooky-luvur · 5 years ago

Note

So I feel like these characters have never been in a fic before- Can you do something with Arthur and his male partner during the scene at the Aberdeen pig farm (the weird asf incest couple) and Arthur getting really over protective

Sorry if this is super late anon I didn’t get the notification :(

I only just recently played that mission and the whole time I was just as stiff and uncomfortable as Arthur was I genuinely thought they were cannibals and we’re gonna eat me. Well, eat Arthur.

Glad I got to blow their heads off with a shotgun

Also fun fact! I’m writing this on a plane

“Arthur, you sure this tip is good?”

“Well, I did get it from a feller who just got out of jail.”

You shoot him a look.

“I ain’t sayin nothing, but relax. Farmers usually got lots o’ money anyway. If they ain’t good, shoot ‘em and run.”

“If you say so..”

Probably the last thing you expected to see from the house you were gonna rob was a very fat man in nothing but overalls reclining on the front porch. You and Arthur stop in your tracks, glancing at each other. Should you go back? And leave all the money behind?

Before you can decide what to do, the fat man notices the both of you awkwardly standing there.

“Well hey there friends!”

You swallow, moving your hand slightly to brush your wrist against the handle of your gun.

“Don’t be shy, partners! No such thing as strangers here!” His eyes trail over both of you, staying on you for a little longer than necessary. He grins.

“Yeah, you two look like you need to take a load off...”

The door suddenly opens, drawing yours and Arthur’s attention. A thin yet busty woman steps into the porch, a light smile on her pale face.

“Well...” she drawls, “ain’t this a rare treat?” She goes to stand beside the man, placing a hand on his chest. So it was a couple. “Why did you tell me we had guests comin’? I’da fixed myself up nice...”

Couple of lunatics.

“Aw, now, you know you look perfect princess...” fatty laughs.

“Erm, we ain’t no guests, Miss,” Arthur glances at you. “Just passin’ through.”

The man waves his hand. “Oh, nonsense, come on in, rest a while. We got food on the stove, and a bottle of the good stuff we been savin.”

“It’s decided then,” the woman steps back into the house. “I’m gonna go freshen up...” her voice is light, seductive as she winks at you.

Arthur’s jaw tightens. “We appreciate the offer but we best be on our way.”

“Oh, come on now!” Spreading his arms wide, he grins at Arthur. “Are you gonna turn down a hot meal and good company? Ha! I’ll go open that bottle!”

Arthur sighs heavily. “I don’t like this.”

You place a hand on his arm, frowning. “Me neither. But think about the money, Arthur. We could really use it. And like you said, thing go south, we hightail outta there.”

He shakes his head, thinking it over. Eventually, he nods.

“Okay.”

“Hey there they are!”

Fat Man (sorry if that’s offensive idk what else to call him other than man and besides- outlaws were mean) is already sitting at the rickety-looking table. “Come on in! Come on!” He gestures for you to sit.

Arthur makes you sit in the seat further away, giving you a look once you open your mouth to question him.

“I hope she ain’t preppin’ for hours up there or we’ll never eat!” He turns his attention to you, a weird smile on his face.

“Hey, tiny, go check on her, will ya?”

You begin to stand, but Arthur’s firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“No...I’ll do it. He can stay here.”

Fat Man shrugs. “Fine by me! I just wanna eat!”

Yeah, you could tell.

After a few moments Arthur and the woman come back down, an odd look on Arthur’s face. You try questioning him, but he quickly shakes his head, taking a seat while she goes to the stove.

“Well ain’t this just about perfect!” Fatty says in a weird voice. “Just one of them moments you wish could last forever.”

“Like we said, we can’t stay long,” you give him a fake smile.

“Just look at us,” the man waves a hand at you and Arthur. “Like a couple of old friends.” He laughs as the woman sets plates down on the table. “It’s a short life, but a merry one.”

You look up from the food to see the woman looking at you with dark eyes. She’s bent over in such a way you could tell she’s purposely trying to show you as much cleavage as possible. Her husband doesn’t even seem to notice, or if he did, he doesn’t care. She giggles as you quickly avert your eyes. Right after, there’s a strong hand on your thigh, gripping tightly just above your knee. You glance over at Arthur, but he’s looking at the man.

“All the fixens. I hope you boys left some room in your trousers.” She looks between you and Arthur, a smirk on her face. “I can tell there ain’t much.”

Fatty inhales deeply and moans, opening his eyes to look at his wife. “That smells delicious.” He takes her hand. “Food don’t smell too bad neither.” They both laugh as he pulls her to sit on his lap.

“Oh, stop it, you!”

The continue to laugh, turning their attention to Arthur and you who’d been trying the food.

“How do you like it?” The woman asks.

Arthur nods. “Mm, it’s good. Different.”

The woman goes to get another chair from the side of the room as Fatty eats the food, moaning.

“That meat is so tender...” he glances at you, an unreadable look in his eyes.

You pause from eating another piece. “Yes, it’s uhm, good...”

“And you know what? This place it used to be a pig farm- when we was-“ he picks at his teeth. “when we was kids?”

Wha- oh...oh dear...oh dear...

It hits you before it hits Arthur. You place down your fork slowly, loosing your appetite.

He continues. “Before we lost our Ma and Pa...horrible business.”

The woman’s mouth tightens into a thin line as she shakes her head. “Horrible.”

“But we still got each other ain’t that right honey pie?”

That’s when it hits Arthur.

“And we still know how to have a hog killin’ time.” (someone told me what she said ty)

You meet his eyes. He glances at the door before glancing back at you. You shrug, shoulders stiff.

“Here, here, that’s for you...”

They both feed each other food with their forks, eyes locked in a intimate moment, both moaning once they taste the others food. They don’t seem to remember you and Arthur were there until they slowly turned their heads. An awkward moment of silence passes before the woman puts down her forks abruptly.

“Where are my manners? Drinks!”

“Yeah, I could defiantly use a drink.” Arthur shakes just head, making you quietly snort.

“And you, sugar?” The woman smiles at you, holding a bottle.

“Yeah.” You really needed to forget all this in the morning.

She laughs, pouring you and Arthur each a small glass.

Arthur downs his in one gulp, and he immediately recoils at the taste. He clears his throat, looking at you.

‘Fucking strong’ are what his eyes tell you.

You down yours too, coughing. It burns your trait and stings your eyes. It’s strong that’s for damn sure. Stronger than any whiskey you’ve ever had. Doesn’t taste like anything you’ve ever had neither. It leaves an unpleasant feeling in your mouth and your gut.

“Ha! That stuff’ll put hair on your chest!”

“Oh, I doubt the big one needs that,” the woman rounds the table with the bottle, passing Arthur as she says that. But she stops at you, putting a hand on your shoulder and slowly sliding it down your partly open shirt and across your chest. You tense, holding your breath.

Oh, you can feel Arthur’s anger.

“But this one here needs some more. Whadda ya say, hun? Let’s loosen the both of you up some more.” She removes your hand, much to yours and Arthur’s relief, and goes back around the table to sit on her *brothers* lap.

Neither of you say anything, only looking at each other. You can tell Arthur doesn’t want to stay.

But the money is the main thing on your mind at the moment.

You just barely nod your head, and Arthur understands. He clenches his jaw, and begrudgingly takes another shot of the strange alcohol. The siblings laugh gleefully, looking at you for your turn.

You’re way lighter on alcohol than Arthur. Only your second shot and your head is already swirling.

The three are talking, laughing, but you don’t hear anything. You sway in your seat, pain flowing throughout your entire body. The last thing you feel is someone picking you up before everything goes black.

“Woo wee, we done and got ourselves a real nice one here!”

“We sure did!”

Ugh, what in the hell did you drink?

Your bleary eyes blink open. You’re standing, but your eyes are tied above your head and around a high railing of the stairs. You’re on your feet but barley. For a moment nothing is clear before you focus on the large figure of the Fat Man and his sister not two feet away from you.

“Oh, you sons of bitches,” you groan, hanging your head. Just listen to Arthur next time you moron.

They both laugh.

“Mama would be real proud of us wouldn’t she sugar?”

“She sure would honeybun!”

The woman turns back to you, getting on her knees. You struggle against the bonds, pushing your self as far away from the crazy woman as possible.

“Oh, don’t be shy, sugar, I only wanna taste you!” She giggles and puts one hand on your crotch and the other on your hip.

“You crazy bastards! Where’s Arthur!”

“Oh he won’t be back for a while, now hold still darlin’-“

Right as she reaches to unbuckle your belt, the front door flies open and a gun immediately goes off. The woman gasps in horror, rising to her feet. The large body of her brother crumples to the ground.

”NO!!!”

She screams, rushing at- thank the heavens- Arthur. Before she can reach him another shot goes off and she crumples right on top of Fatty.

You take a deep breath, head rolling back in relief.

“(M/n)? (M/n)!”

Arthur catches you once he cuts your bonds, holding you to his chest in a crushing grip.

“Goddamn, you alright?! The hell did they do to you?!”

“Nothin’ thanks to you.” You give him a long kiss, holding his face in your hands. He pulls away to put his forehead against yours and you can see the unshed tears in his eyes.

“Thought I damn near lost you...”

“It’s okay, Arthur. I’m alive, and they aren’t. Now, where is that money?”

——

#rdr2 #rdr2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #arthur morgan x male reader #rdr2 arthur x male reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #request #anon request

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zwowow · 4 years ago

Note

this might be very triggering so its fine if u dont do it, but kells self harming secretly and em finding out and kells thinks he’s gonna be mad but em is comforting instead

sorry for the ask, im the same anon that went thru a break up and it aint going well

tw: self harm

I’m sorry my love, break ups are rough and it really sounds like ur goin thru it. sorry this took a while! but hopefully you’ve had time to heal a bit between sending this ask nd now.

psa to all I’ve never self harmed, so i’m just hoping this captures the idk headspace? alright :/

He started when he was a teenager. That’s how long he’s been doing this shit. It’s fucking shameful that he hasn’t grown out of it in over a decade, but it’s also one of the only things that’s consistently soothed him. When weed isn’t enough to calm him, or shake him from a spiral of self-loathing, he always comes back to this. Not because it makes him feel better, but because it makes him feel something.

He can focus on the pain and only the physical pain. His emotions, the real world shit he has to deal with, can fall to the side for a moment and he can revel in the hurt. The hurt that he has control over.

That’s a part of it, too. Control. So much of the existential pain he feels is beyond what he himself can change. Everyone gets to have an opinion on him, and regardless if it’s good or bad, he has to know it and internalize it. He has no choice. Time moves on and he can’t control what his past self has done, but the regret eats him alive. His head spins when he thinks about all of the shit that’s wrong in his life that he no longer has the power to change.

But the harm he does himself? Knowingly and methodically? It’s all controlled. He’s got it all under control.

Or at least he did. Recently, he’s had the itch to hurt more and more frequently. There’s so much going on in his life that he’s no longer in control of even the one thing that makes him feel grounded. The old scars and fresh wounds are getting harder to hide. Even on his inked skin, raised bumps and sensitive bruises are easy to find when his boyfriend spends all of his time roaming his hands gently over his body.

But Em can’t find out. Colson refuses to let him. He’d think Colson is pathetic (he is). He’d be disgusted by him (he should be). He’d hate him (but he couldn’t hate him more than Colson hates himself).

He tries not to hurt himself around Em because of this, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Sometimes he needs it.

Colson sneaks out of bed one night at Em’s place while his boyfriend is sleeping. On his way out, he grabs his small bag that has just a few of the items he uses to hurt himself. His fingers shake around the bag and his breath quickens in his chest.

Ain’t it funny that the shame he feels from doing this just makes him want to do it more?

When he makes it to a bathroom far enough away from Em’s room that he doubts he would make the effort to find him all the way down here, he lays the bag on the counter and opens it up.

This hadn’t started with the razor blades and lighters he keeps in the bag. He’s worked himself here from pulling out his leg hair and scratching his own arms raw just to feel the sting. The older and more well known he got, the more out of control he felt, and from there he made the jump from nervous ticks to genuine self harm.

He used to starve himself, too. He thinks back to only a couple of years ago and picks up the lighter. He could go days without eating, even while on tour. There were times where he’d pass out after shows from the hunger, but he’d write it off to others as exhaustion. That had been one of the most pleasing ways to hurt himself. The gentle build up to physical depletion to match what he felt emotionally was fulfilling in a way he couldn’t possibly explain to anyone.

And that’s why he stopped. Em started to catch on. He started to ask questions no one had asked before. He was obsessed with feeding Colson and keeping him healthy.

Colson started eating regularly because Em would’ve hated to know his not eating wasn’t just absent-minded forgetting. He would’ve been so disappointed to find out it was deliberate starvation. Colson didn’t want to disappoint Em.

He still doesn’t. Colson puts the lighter on the counter and takes out one of his blades, too. Em would hate to see this. He wouldn’t understand.

Inhaling shakily through his nose, Colson looks between his two options for tonight. He leaves the blade on the counter and picks up the lighter. Em is sure to notice if he has a fresh cut. A burn is easier to hide.

He flicks the lighter to life and is deciding where to hold it on his body when he hears the first knock.

“Kells.” Shit. He loosens his grip on the lighter and the flame goes out.

What is Em doing out of bed, and what the fuck is he doing down here?

“Kells,” Em tries again, “You good?”

“I’m fine.” He lies.

“Are you fucking smoking in there?” Outside, Em’s voice grows suspicious. He heard the lighter go on and now he thinks Colson is smoking weed in his bathroom. That would be easier to explain.

After too long of a pause he says, “No.”

Em doesn’t give a warning before he throws open the bathroom door. Colson wants to knock his head into the mirror for not thinking to lock it. He dives for the blade on the counter, but Em is staring right at it.

“What the fuck?” Em looks between Colson and the counter multiple times. It’s a stupid overdramatic response, but he wants to slit his fucking wrists from that look.

Em’s brow furrows. Colson feels sick to his stomach. Em is pissed at him. He’s disgusted by him. He doesn’t know whether to throw him out or call a mental hospital. He hates him. He must be so angry.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out. I was trying to hide it. I shouldn’t have done it here. I know it’s fucking sick. I know it’s fucking crazy to cut and burn myself, I know but I...” Excuses and apologies trip over each other running off of his tongue.

“You’re cutting yourself?” Em interrupts him. His intense gaze sweeps over Colson. He’s not disgusted or angry like he’d thought. He’s shocked, confused, and even a bit hurt.

“I... yeah.”

“Why?” A loaded question like that shoots Colson right through the chest. Why? He can hardly answer the question to himself, how is he supposed to explain it to Em?

Em said it himself, he was just clownin’ when talking about cutting himself, how fucked up does someone have to be to actually do that? Colson doesn’t want to explain to Em how fucked up he is.

When he doesn’t answer, Em looks back down at the blade and then at the lighter still in his hand. Kells sees the thousands of things he wants to say and the million questions he wants to ask in his eyes. Finally his eyes set, and Kells braces himself for the next thing to come out of Em’s mouth.

“Don’t do that shit tonight, yeah? Just come back to bed.” The response shocks Colson even more silent than he’d been. Does he still want to know why, or is he just dropping it?

As if reading his mind, Em shrugs, “You can tell me why when you’re ready. Tonight, I just want to cuddle your ass.” He holds out his hand to Colson and laces their fingers together tightly when he grabs on. Em tugs him gently out of the bathroom and down the hall back to his room. Colson leaves the lighter and the blade on the counter.

When they’re back in bed, Em holds him differently than he has before, His arm feels weighted, it presses Colson gently down into the bed, unable to move from the hold. Em holds him from behind protectively and breathes into Colson’s neck. It’s so close it’s almost claustrophobic, but Colson wouldn’t pull away from it even if he could. The urge to hurt himself is immediately replaced by the need to burrow in closer to Em’s grounding touch.

He falls asleep easily, letting the last of his shame and fear at Em’s reaction leave his body without a fight.

In the morning, he goes to clean his stuff up in the bathroom, or to throw it away, but not to use it. When he gets there, the bag, the razor, and the lighter are nowhere to be found. Instead of being anxious at the loss, he feels a bit calmed by it.

This isn’t the end. He won’t be able to stop hurting himself just because Em got rid of a few of his blades and one of his many designated lighters, but it is a start.

Em knows now, he’s looking out for it. And if the way he always acts toward him, from the making sure Colson is eating to the cuddle last night is any indication, he’ll be there when Colson needs it. He’ll take care of him.

#Anonymous #emgk #zwowfic #kind of a rushed ending #but i hope u liked it bebs #also like askbox nd messages are always open for those who wanna talk #tw: self harm

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straighttohellbuddy · 4 years ago

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World building is the best tbh. I’m forever world building and now I have several worlds to play in and my neurodivergent brain cannot stay still enough to focus on one lmao. SLOWBURN ROMANCES ARE MY LITERAL JAM LIKE PLS!!! I LOVE THEM!! Also!!!! Concepts!!!! Pls share!!!! I love learning about the worlds of my fave fics and I can hands down say right now that this fic will literally shoot to the top of my list of favourites which means you’ll occupy the top three spots. Sorry to hear that ur feeling rough, so am sending u the biggest hug. I’m not okay but I’m taking care of myself today so that I will be 🧡-🐈‍⬛

alsjfsldkjf i have too many worlds TBH, literally one of the best parts of my 2020 was writing for the classic rock fandom and writing one of my good friend’s ocs alongside mine, like there’s so many different worlds that our two characters have now, i’m like 26k deep into a high school au that i need to get back to at some point, and then i wrote a oneshot abt the high school au but they’re adults, and then there’s also the original timeline, and then there’s the present day in the original timeline where they have kids and i probably care too much about people who aren’t real...... hahaha

OKAY OKAY OKAY HERE WE GO I’LL GIVE KIND OF AN OVERVIEW OF THE ALBUMS AND A FEW SONGS BUT IF U WANT ME TO GO IN DEPTH ON ANY OTHER SONG JUST ASK!!!

yes i have a playlist for each, if you wanna hear how i interpret the vibes of the songs. if you interpret them differently, thats awesome!! i’d love to hear y’all’s opinions on them!!

testing one two - the first ep they release, the song titles are mostly themed (fast forward, press play, pause, rewind), but are mostly things y/n has been working on for a while but never got around to finishing, things they are rather proud of. i see you shiver with... is the first song they wrote specifically for the album, and it’s the last song on the EP because it’s a Rocky Horror reference; i see you shiver with...

a n t i c i p a t i o n - first full album!! the vibe is Hopeful But Hesitant it has all the songs from the ep, plus some new ones!! collabs with youtube musicians troye and dodie, and y/n’s label sets up a collab that turns into a genuine friendship. the breakout dance hit is what else is there to say ft. Troye Sivan, which is about not knowing what to make content about when it feels like you’ve already told the world everything. it featured the prechorus and hook

You, know, ev-ery-thing about me / gave it all for free / my life in HD / So, let’s dance, let me see your hips sway / we’re gonna be okay / what else is there to say?

So say that you love me, say that you love me, say that you love me / let’s die hand in hand. / I’ll tell you I love you, tell you I love you, tell you I love you / supply and demand.

personally, i also conceptually enjoy srs bsns which is a really upbeat song about how they don’t care if people don’t take them seriously because they know in their heart that what they’re doing is good

hyperfocus - 2nd EP, a pretty substantial departure from their usual style, but also happens to quietly be Corpse’s favourite, and is actually y/n’s most polarising, because it has both the Grammy award winning HEARTBURN and the o brother where art thou which was written partially as a joke to capture a fond moment of them and 5SOS dicking around together in a hotel. written while on tour wit 5SOS, im writing the reader as having ADHD (because I have ADHD and i can do what i want), and the backstory is that they’d changed the medication/dosage they were taking, and as it’s their first full tour, they were under a lot of stress and were in a weird place mentally and emotionally, and hyperfocus is the result of that. i’m going through some stuff has HUGE agoraphobic vibes.

HEARTBURN has the same vibes as Florence + The Machines’ Howl. It’s about being a demon without saying that or directly implying that unless you know demons real well. This is when the pressure for them to confirm their identity got real bad, and it was their way of working through those emotions.

tear in existence in the shape of a person / when i’m seeing clearly i can’t see myself / world can’t swallow what it can’t get it’s teeth into / got everything i wanted but i ain’t got my health

Got heart-burn--- / I’ll tear me apart / I’ll tear you apart / I’ll tear me apart.

SCREAM gets rereleased as a remixed single featuring Fall Out Boy the following year. It won the MTV music award for best collaboration in 2018.

In the time between hyperfocus and working on it, Y/N releases several singles, including a cover of Tell Him by The Exciters to be featured in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. They also take time to sort out their health, do a little bit more YT stuff, and travel internationally to do festivals.

working on it - is kind of a middle ground between their original stuff, and hyperfocus, like pop-punk meets horror-pop meets whatever you’d classify halsey as. the first three songs were mostly written before the fic starts, so before they’re getting back to YT, but the last three, nightmare scenario, designed to hurt (touch me), and not scared were all written after they’d started hanging out with sykkuno and corpse.

in-universe, imposter syndrome was originally something else, along the same lines of tired that they’re hiding that they’re a demon, but after meeting corpse nd sykkuno and having people who know, and lowkey being influenced by corpse’s music, the song changes directions, and YO OKAY YO::

I literally am so fucking flattered, my darling friend @bingusmode wrote lyrics for imposter syndrome and I’ve been yELLING about them ever since i’ve read them!! (also bunnie is fantastic and lovely in general 10/10)

if you thought you saw me

i’d think about it twice

cuz while i know i’m naughty

everybody thinks i’m nice

cutest giggles get me

places that i long to be

but it’s not long before

everybody hates me

when you figure out i’m fucked up

you’ll probably think that can’t be right

but babe my image runs to save me

cuz i’m ugly day and night

nothing good about me

not the angel that i seem

cuz i’m a piece of shit

and i’ll ruin your fuckin dreams

i’m an impostor babe

you better run for your life

cuz there’s a bloodlust runnin through me

and you’re dripping off my knife

there’s no one here to save you

cuz you ate up all my lies

so beg me while you can

and draft up all your goodbyes

if any of y’all are inspired by anything i put out, feel free to take it and run!! you have my blessing!! i am so overwhelmingly flattered by people who like my stuff enough to create because of it, directly or indirectly! lyrics, art, songs, anything!! legit! I love you!!

okay so designed to hurt (touch me) has big House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco vibes, and YES it’s about Corpse. YES it sends mixed messages. YES it has greek myth imagery and YES that imagery is confusing. not sure if any of these sets of lyrics actually go after each other but also idk??

will my fall from grace be graceful / as each move i see you make? / propped up on pedestals side by side / beneath our feet they shake / i’m the only one to hear you ask / “What have they done to me?” / My boy, your wax throne is sun-drenched / you’ll fall in the name of your legacy.

eyes like yours watched rome burn / while hands like mine lit the pyre / we both heard me say we’d go down in flames / now you’re turning me into a liar / since you smile like that, like you can’t feel the sting / and we both know i can’t feel the fire

been telling myself i’m designed to hurt / but, baby, aren’t we a sight? /

check your reflection, your angles, apollo / you’re icarus in the right light /

we’re on the edge, i’m not scared to fall / we’ll take refuge in the night /

been telling yourself you’re designed to hurt / but, baby, doesn’t this feel right?

also, albumtouralbumtour is a reference to Bohemian Rhapsody.

OKAY AND FINALLY

n o s t a l g i a - the album the reader’s working on during the fic.

literally as i was writing this, bunnie sent through some FIRE lyrics for how the light gets in, (@bingusmode) i am going to be thinking about these on REPEAT for the next MONTH BRUV

little bit of darkness, treat me like a toy

i got my hopes up and got them destroyed

bitter taste of regret sitting heavy on my tongue

can’t believe i let you convince me that you were the one

sitting here in silence, fabric running thin

petals burning in my lungs and stealing oxygen

embers from a cigarette falling to the floor

god i can’t take anymore

so i stumble to the window and pull the shades

and the moon pours in like you threw a grenade

i can’t understand why

i keep trying

cuz i never seem to win

but having any hope is how the light gets in

from there, moment before impact ft. Billie Eilish is a club anthem along the lines of bad guy or COPYCAT, bass heavy with a drop that’s out of this world.

powdered pain, i’m in your veins / i’m the sting, the drip, the thing / you’re craving, but you hate to see me misbehaving / i heard my breakdown got you high / it’s true, but baby i can’t lie / i never got that rush, that burn / that makes you feel alive, i had to learn / to pick the slippery slope down which i fell / plan my pitstops on the way to hell / to pick my padding before i spiral / so if i break it’ll be in style

watch my misdirect, now freeze, / notice you can’t see the forest for the trees / you’re so desperate for my demise / but baby, i’ll make you watch me rise.

this is the moment before impact

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i know you hope i’m not okay / you get off on my audio misery

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i need you to know i want it this way / my breakdown won me a grammy

and this is the moment before impact

ur my favourite - interlude ft. sykkuno is probably one of my favourites, it’s just really soft, just a snippet of a conversation between the reader and sykkuno, maybe one of them told a joke and they both just sound real happy and sweet. its nice. it’s a nice moment.

means something is also for sykkuno!! it’s about how good-strange it is to be open and honest with friends, and how they usually aren’t but they’re glad they can be open and honest with him!!

meanwhile, i don’t think about u - interlude ft. CORPSE is a phonecall between corpse & the reader right after they announce they’re going to feature on acting like that, where corpse asks if they do this sort of thing to spite him, to which the reader responds ‘do i consider you when i’m making decisions about my career? no, corpse, actually i don’t think about you at all’ which then directly contrasts the song that ends the album, which is (how it feels to be) beautiful fireworks, which is essentially ‘i know how hard it is to exist like this, to be the centre of attention, to give off light and bring people joy, even when you’re in pain. i’m here for you. i love you.’

okay, i swear im done now, i’ll get back to writing the fic! (also i cannot BELIVE i managed to figure out how to embed those playlists but im so happy) edit: it didn’t actually work when i posted the ask, so anyways im sorry but y’all are abt to be spammed with playlists because i care too much abt this fic

#Anonymous #how the light gets in #corpse husband x reader #black cat anon

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ahsk1nk · 4 years ago

Text

A Hot Stranger- Kai Anderson x Reader

a/n: Not my best work, I thought of the idea, and I so excited to write, that it doesn’t really sound the way I want it to, but whatever.

Summary: two dominants meet at the gym

warning: smut (most of my stuff is), degrading, err idk really, FEM READER

The blue haired boy kept making eyes at you and you couldn’t help but notice. The eye contact he gave you, almost felt sexual, but you couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Ok the form is alright but if you really want to get some definition in those noodle arms, you have to pull up slower.” Your trainer, Jackson, caught you off guard as you continued to stare at the mystery man doing push-ups.

You followed Jackson’s advice and looked for approval in his face, “Better?” He nodded slowly as he scanned your body closely, but you turned back to where you were looking at before and he wasn’t the only one staring at your body.

“Uh I have to fill up my bottle, where is the fountain?” You stopped your reps, and waited for an answer. “Down the hall.” As you walked, you could see in the corner of your eye that you were being followed.

Once you stopped, the question came out of your lips unintentionally, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” You knew who it was, no need to check and look at him some more.

“I’m not the only guilty one.” His response made you turn to look at him but you didn’t say anything, instead you walked away, bumping his arm with your shoulder as you passed him.

The rest of the gym session was short, and the only people left inside were you, your trainer, and the other two strangers.

You walked to the locker room to get undressed and head to the showers. The towel wrapped around your body, barely covering your breasts, which you didn’t mind because you had the locker room to yourself since everyone left at the gym were men.

You found the perfect temperature for the water before you stepped in, but a voice startled you, “You’re hot.” It was THE guy.

“You’re not allowed in here. Don’t you know anything? Staring at me when I’m trying to work out, following me to the water fountain, and now invading my privacy. No manners. Tsk tsk.” You said playfully, you enjoyed lightly teasing people who were attractive, it made them nervous.

He said nothing, just walked up to you. You felt a little unsafe but you kept your ground, trying to communicate that you were the dominant one in this situation. He got really close, you could feel his hot breath on your face. “I want to fuck you right here.” He patted the wall your were leaned against.

The seriousness in his voice shocked you, but you managed to keep your expression the same. You spat out the first response that came to mind, “Let me at least shower first, I tend to work up a sweat.” Your confidence surprised him and the innocent smile you added was his weakness.

His hand reached for your neck, but you caught his wrist before he could control you. “No, if we are going to fuck, then you’re going listen to me.” You made sure the ‘fuck’ was rough, almost spitting on his face. Your grip tightened around his wrist, and your eyes never detaching from his. Your own words aroused you. You considered yourself to be the “top” in sexual and non sexual situations.

Before you knew it, you were forcing him into the wall with both of your hands, making you let go of the towel that was covering you. You kissed him harshly, taking breaths in between to moan, making him go insane.

“Carry me!” He did as he was told with a smirk on his face. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled you up, making your already wet pussy touch the crotch area of his basketball shorts.

You continued to kiss and moan on his lips, as he carried you to the locker area, eventually slamming your back against the empty lockers. He put you down, so you were standing on the cold tile floor barefoot. He took his shorts off eagerly, and as he was going to pick up, you stopped him as you looked at his erection. You looked up at him making eye contact, you ran the back of your hand down his torso, finally reaching his throbbing cock. Still locking eyes, it turned you on immensely, you kneeled down, until you were right in front of his dick.

You kissed it gently and kitty licked the tip, making him groan. He seemed to not like the teasing. You stood up, and pumped his member with your hand, while looking at him groan and tilt his head back.

He grabbed your hand that was attached to his dick, holding it against the metal locker above your head. The new coldness made you shiver, but not for long as he carried you again. He put your calves on his shoulders, giving him all the access he needed. Without hesitation he slammed into you, making you scream and squeeze your eyes tight. Grunts came out of his gritted teeth, and your mouth hung open, he found the g-spot almost immediately. He thrusted harder and harder, hitting it every time.

“Say my name slut!” His words made you fall apart even more, which surprised you because you were the one degrading most of the time. You decided to hit him back with harsh words, “I don’t know it, asshole.” You try to say it as calmly as possible, which was extremely challenging because the pleasure was overwhelming.

He made a struggle to slap you your ass, but it made you giggle and moan louder. “My... name..... is ....... Kai.” He said it in between his fast thrusts.

You ignored him and continued to fill the room with your moans, “Oh my fucking god Kai! Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!”

Your words motivated him to go harder in you, pushing so deep it almost felt uncomfortable. His thrusts were getting sloppy, his cock twitching in you. Kai was too distracted by your pussy to pull out, filling you up with cum.

You still hadn’t finished and you intended to keep going until you orgasmed, even if he was tired and begging to stop, “You better keep going, you piece of shit!”

Kai followed your instructions with anger, making you finish on his dick. The thrusts stopped but he was still inside you, you leaned in close to his face, you grabbed the hair tie that was holding his hair in a bun, pulling it off. You bit his bottom lip, pulling on it, you tasted metal, realizing that you cut him with your teeth.

He put you down, and you walked away, got into the shower. The water was now cold, Kai followed you in. “I like you.” He grabbed your waist, and leaned into your shoulder.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” You kept playing with him, “You aren’t like other women.”

“In what aspect?” You were genuinely curious.

“Women are weak, body and mind. But you, you think like a man, and have a good pussy to stretch out.”

He slapped your ass, making it sting. You heard the door of the locker room open, “Gym doors are closing in 2 minutes!!”

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actinglikethat · 5 years ago

Text

We Can Never Be Friends - MGK Imagine

Plot: Despite you and Colson breaking up a year ago, you still have feelings for him and suspect he might still have some for you. But a wrench is thrown in your thoughts when he brings another girl to a hangout.

A/N: Yay, this is the first writing I’m posting here! It’s loosely based on a dream I had and it’s kinda angsty/full of pining but I have a part two in the works 👀 (also idk how to write these describer things so bear with me lmao)

Warnings: One scene describes the plot of a movie Colson’s starring in (in the story) and it briefly mentions kidnapping.

You and Colson had broken up a year ago, after mutually deciding that his tour schedule and the demands of his career put too much of a strain on your relationship. Despite the way your romance ended, it was an amicable breakup and you stayed friends afterwards. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you were still in love with him. Between his looks, his dedication to his art, and his commitment to being a good father to Casie, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe you should’ve pushed harder to keep him.

There were a lot of moments at hangouts and house parties where you thought he laughed a little too long at your stories, or maintained eye contact for a few seconds more than he should’ve, that made you think maybe he felt the same way. You tried asking the likes of Pete, Rook, and Slim whether he talked about you often, or if they knew how he felt, but their answers weren’t what you wanted to hear.

As you got ready for a hangout at Rook’s one night, you found yourself putting on Colson’s favorite dress of yours, along with a necklace he got you two birthdays ago. You wore that outfit on countless dinner dates and to the studio a few times, and you gave yourself a melancholy smile in the mirror as you looked back. Casie thought that dress brought out your eyes well. She also thought you might become her stepmother one day.

Once you got to Rook’s, you made your rounds around the living room to say hi to everyone, coming to Colson last. His gaze immediately went to the necklace, then the dress, then to your face, his face dropping. He muttered a quick “hey,” gave you an awkward hug, and sat back down. It was clear you had gotten into his head, so you figured you’d sit next to him on the couch.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said as you stepped over. “Jasmine’s sitting there.”

The smile you had on your face a moment earlier fell, and you looked over your shoulder at the rest of the group, hoping to make eye contact with someone who could tell you who this “Jasmine” was. Pete offered you a sympathetic smile, making room on the other couch next to him.

“Who the hell is Jasmine?” You quietly asked him as you sat down.

“New girlfriend,” he said. “They met on the set of that new movie he’s filming in Calabasas. She’s a lot like you, you know. I think you’d be good friends if it weren’t for the fact that she’s dating the star-crossed love of your life.”

You elbowed him in the side as a girl you had never met came into the room. Her eyes instantly fell on you, and she smiled as she walked over.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! I’m Jasmine, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Yeah, you too!”

“Everyone’s told me so much about you, Colson and Rook always say you’re one of the sweetest, funniest people they’ve met.”

“Do they?” You felt your heart fall to your stomach.

“All the time! I have a feeling we’ll get along well.”

“Same,” you fibbed. She smiled and took her seat next to Colson, joining in whatever conversation he was having with Slim and Noah.

You leaned back on the couch, almost regretting showing up.

“I didn’t wanna tell you he still talks about you,” Pete said. “I figured it’d kinda sting now that he’s taken.”

“She took him alright,” you muttered, earning a laugh. “I just, I don’t know. I thought maybe there was a chance he’d wanna take me back.”

“It’s possible, I think. I mean, it’s Colson, how long do we think this will really last?”

“We were together for a year and seven months. Who knows?”

He sighed, unsure of how to comfort you.

As the night went on, you made conversation with most people in the room, aside from Colson and Jasmine. You wanted to talk to them, partly so Jasmine didn’t think you were a bitch and partly because talking to Colson was one of your favorite things to do. After some convincing, you got Pete to go over with you, scared that going alone would become an awkward third-wheel situation.

Pete was right, you and Jasmine had a lot in common. It was easy for you two to find things to discuss, and she seemed like a really genuine, fun person. Pete occasionally chimed in to tell you other things you had in common, but Colson was practically silent the whole time.

A little while after you started talking, Jasmine excused herself to the kitchen to go get another drink. You turned to Pete, unsure what to do without Jasmine there, and he started asking Colson more about his new movie.

“It’s a romcom, which I haven’t really done before,” he said. “A guy’s with this girl and they break up over some stupid shit, and the whole movie they’re trying to win each other back without knowing it.”

Your gaze had been alternating between the floor and the rest of the room, but you noticed that Colson was looking directly at you while he described the film. You looked up at him almost mournfully, wondering if there was any real-life connection to the plot. Noah pulled Pete aside to show him something, leaving you and Colson standing alone.

“That sounds like a nice movie,” you commented, hoping to make the situation less awkward. “I know what that’s like.”

“Me too,” he sighed. He bit his lip, looking pensive, like he was trying to find the right words for whatever he wanted to say next. He didn’t get to say it though, since Jasmine returned before he could open his mouth.

“I was just telling Y/N about the movie,” Colson explained.

“Oh, it’s such a fun one. The whole premise is so disturbing. I mean, what kind of a sicko would hold his daughter-in-law for ransom in a shed?”

You furrowed your brow, contemplating whether Colson was actually describing the movie earlier. “Uh, yeah, that’s so twisted.”

Pete rejoined the group and started rambling about whatever Noah showed him, but you couldn’t pay enough attention to follow what he was saying. Whenever he said something funny, you glanced over at Colson to see if he was laughing. It was exactly what you’d do at these hangouts when you were dating. When he noticed you looking up at him, he’d smile and put his arm around you, if he was next to you.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Jasmine asked, noticing your expression drop. Upon hearing this, Colson looked up at you, and Pete turned to look at you too, but he already knew the answer.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“I could drive you home in a little bit if you want, I have work in the morning so I’m not staying too late,” she offered.

“Thanks, I’d really appreciate that.” As much as you wanted to stay, it was torture to see how happy Colson and Jasmine were together. It didn’t help that the guys and Noah already loved her so much. It frustrated you that no one warned you that she’d be there, but at the same time, they knew how much Colson meant to you and didn’t want to upset you.

After some more awkward small talk, Slim and Baze came over to ask Colson some questions about a song they were working on. Jasmine excitedly chimed in, offering some production ideas. Pete could tell you were uncomfortable, so he put his hand on your back, nudging you towards the kitchen.

Once it was just the two of you, Pete grabbed you a water bottle from the fridge, then sat down in a barstool next to the counter.

“Come into my office, kid,” he said, pulling out another stool for you.

“I don’t know what to do,” you sighed, sitting down next to him.

“It’s a tricky situation to be in. But after tonight, I really think he’s still into you.”

“Why would he bring Jasmine here then? Especially knowing I was coming.”

“I dunno. I don’t think he knows, either. But the way he looked at you when you first got here? Then he looked crushed when you couldn’t sit next to him.”

“I dunno, Pete. It’s Colson we’re talking about, he’s not exactly a saint.”

“You’re not wrong, but I think there’s something there.”

Before you could think of something to say, Jasmine came in to tell you she was gonna go warm up the car. You nodded and started saying goodbye to everyone. You couldn’t find Colson, so you wandered around the house to see where he was.

You finally bumped into him in the hallway, after he came out of the bathroom.

“Uh, hey,” he said. “You heading out?”

“Yeah, Jasmine’s warming up the car.”

“Alright. Well, it was nice to see you again.”

He pulled you into a hug much warmer than the one he gave you earlier, and you closed your eyes against his chest, not wanting to have to say goodbye again. His arms lingered a bit longer than they should have, and as you pulled away, he kissed your forehead before sighing.

“Get home safe,” he muttered, returning to the living room and leaving you in the hall.

#mgk #mgk imagine #machine gun kelly #mgk fanfic #colson baker #my post #my writing

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pink-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

angel on earth

part 3

request: Bakugou holds auditions for a new lead singer for the BakuBand and the reader auditions and he’s mesmerised by her voice? Idk, I’m awful at requesting, sorry. ❤️ Love everything you do, don’t stress, and have a good day!

a/n: spoiler alert: Aito is an asshole. also can you tell how much i love hozier?

warnings: a possessive boyfriend

masterlist

part 1 | part 2

Why...? Why her? How could I ever get to her level? Why do I give away my heart so easily?

Katsuki woke up that day well rested. It was finally Tuesday. He was going to meet her again. Why was he so excited? She was just the new band member... no, he didn’t know if she’d be the new band member... but what was the possibility that she wouldn’t be? Eijiro liked her, he talked very highly of her even... Mina would love to have another girl in the band. He wasn’t too sure about Sero and Denki but he was sure that they wouldn’t exactly dislike her.

He shook away the thoughts that were intruding his mind and started getting dressed. Black jeans, should be formal enough without looking like he was actually trying to be formal, and a normal white t-shirt. He threw on a a red sweatshirt and over that his ripped jean jacket to keep warm. He put on the chain with a ring threaded on it, which he had recieved from a fan on his first big concert, and the black leather boots he always wore.

Why was he nervous? He never got nervous! Not even on stage! Katsuki tried to shrug it off and walked out of his apartment.

“So... how do I look?”, you turned to Aito. You had put on your new sundress that you paired with your cute vintage heels.

“Weren’t you wearing that for later tonight?”, he asked.

“Yeah... but I thought I could wear it now too, so that I wouldn’t have to change later...”, you muttered carefully.

“I don’t know... how many guys are in that band?”, he sounded doubtfull.

“Aito, you know that I wouldn’t-”

“Yeah, I know but... do it for me, sweetheart? I’m just asking you to put some more clothes on. You don’t want them to think of you in a bad way, right?”, he gently held your upper arms in his hands.

“No, but-”

“I think it would just be better if you just wore those nice jeans that you have.”, Aito pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head, “You can change when you get home.”

“Aito I don’t know when I’ll get home... I probably won’t have time to change...”, you sighed, “Can’t we eat out tomorrow?”

“Fine...”, he let out a disappointed sigh, “I’ll call into the restaurant again then...”

You changed into the mom-jeans and a nice blouse that you tucked into the jeans.

“Do you think the shoes would fit this outfit?”, you asked Aito and motioned to the vintage heels.

“Yeah, totally.”, he looked at your disappointed expression, “Baby... don’t be sad... here, I’ll let you wear my leather jacket.”

He wrapped his jacket around your shoulders and you gave him a slight smile before you put on your heels.

He saw her as soon as she walked into the restaurant. Did she get more beautiful everyday? As soon as Eijiro saw Katsuki’s fogged up gaze, he realized that Y/N had gotten there. Eijiro looked around before seeing her.

“Hey, Y/N!”, he exclaimed and got up from his chair to shake her hand.

“Hi, how are you?”, she asked sweetly and took his hand.

“I’m great, how are you?”, he asked with a smile. In this way, Katsuki envied Kirishima. He was laid back, could talk to anyone and the fact that he was talking to her in that manner... it just got worse.

“So, guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Denki, Mina and Sero.”, Kirishima said, “And you know Katsuki, of course.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!”, Mina giggled, stood up from her chair and engulfed Y/N in a tight hug, “It’ll be so nice to have another girl in the band!”

He watched the two interacting. This was a very good idea.

As soon as conversation started picking up you were immediately comfortable. It was so natural for all of you, especially with Katsuki. You couldn’t think of any time when you’ve felt the same way... not even with Aito.

Katsuki didn’t say much, but you still felt comfortable and like you could really be yourself.

“Where’d you get your jacket Y/N? I’m in love with it!”, Mina exclaimed and felt the leather material.

“My boyfriend bought it in a second hand shop, actually!”, you smiled. Suddenly there was a tension. Katsuki looked out the window, suddenly even more quiet.

“Oh, really!”, Mina tried to keep the mood going, “It’s in really good shape for being second hand, he has good taste!”

“Thank you.”, you smiled.

Of course she had a boyfriend, why would he even think anything else? She’s beautiful, kind, funny... and actual angel. You’d think someone as perfect as her would have a partner already.

It didn’t matter, she’d still get a place in Crimson Crypt. She was still an amazing singer, and the fact that she was in a relationship shouldn’t change that. Nevertheless, Katsuki was a little bit heartbroken. What if he had made a move on her that day in the café instead of writing a goddamn song? Who does that? He was such an idiot!

Play it cool, Katsuki..., he thought before gathering himself quickly.

He couldn’t believe that he was relieved when the dinner was over. Still, it was hard to see her go... and meet up with her boyfriend down the street. Aito, was it? Katsuki didn’t like the way he wrapped his arm around her waist protectivley, or the way he kissed her temple softly... he didn’t like him at all, that’s it.

“I don’t like him...”, Katsuki mumbled.

“Well, that’s just ‘cause you like her!”, Denki laughed.

“Oi! Shut up!”, Katsuki yelled at him. The rest of the group laughed, but Katsuki stole one last glance at her. There was love in the way she kissed him, for sure... but it was forced as fuck.

Once home, you took of your make up and got ready for bed.

“So, you got the gig?”, Aito asked as he started brushing his teeth.

“Sure did!”, you grinned, “Better start dressing like a rock star now, huh?”

“No... it’s not your style.”, he commented.

“Aito, it was a joke.”, you sighed, “... but I think that I can pull it off...” He shrugged and kept on brushing his teeth.

“Are you still mad about the dinner reservation, Aito?”, you frowned at him in the mirror.

“No, it’s fine.”, he muttered, “I’m going to bed...”

The very next day Aito was already gone when you woke up. Even though he was an art student he had a weird schedule, but today you didn’t mind. It had been awkward since last night and you just wanted to be alone for a while.

You got a text, so you managed to roll out of bed and take it. The bright screen made your eyes sting, but once you got used to it you could see the time. It was already 10 am. The text was from Katsuki...

‘Hey, are you free for today?’, it said. You didn’t know why, but your heart fluttered... even for just a second.

Maybe he shouldn’t have sent it... was it weird? He saw her yesterday, was today too much?

‘yeah, sure! did you have anything in mind? :)’, she answered quickly. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a sigh. It wasn’t weird... but maybe she was just being polite? God dammit! Stop thinking, just do!

‘Coffee and maybe we could practice a bit. I don’t know if it was obvious, but you made it into the band.’, he texted back.

‘sounds great! text me a time and place, i’ll get ready as soon as possible!:)’, Y/N answered immediately again.

She still looked gorgeous. Fuck, why was this happening to him? As soon as she saw him she smiled so brightly and waved before jogging up to him.

“Hi! How are you?”, she grinned.

“I’m alright, you doing okay?”, he asked and tried to keep his concern out of his tone. From what he saw last night, he didn’t really like Y/N’s boyfriend, Aito. Katsuki thought about it for a long time and it wasn’t about the fact that he might have a tiny crush on her. He got a genuine bad gut feeling from him.

“Yeah, I just got to bed a bit late last night!”, she let out a breathy laugh, “So, where did you want to go?”

He couldn’t convince her to let him buy her coffee, but that was alright as long as she was happy. They walked around town in silence, letting their paper cups warm up their cold hands.

“Would you mind going to my place to practice? We usually have a studio but I couldn’t get a hold of our manager today.”, he asked out of the blue.

“I don’t mind at all!”, she smiled so pretty again. He was about to add something when a group of younger girls ran up to the two and stopped their peaceful walk.

“Oh my god! Are you Katsuki Bakugo from Crimson Crypt?”, one of them asked gleefully.

“That’s me, yeah.”, he nodded.

“Could we get a picture?”, another girl asked.

“I...”, he looked over at you to see if Y/N was uncomfortable. The contrary, she was smiling... almost in an excited way. She noticed him looking.

“It’s fine, I can take it if you all want to be in it!”, she said happily to the girls. They gave her a phone and waited until the group surrounded Katsuki before she took a picture.

“Here you go!”, Y/N handed back the phone to the girls.

“Thank you so much!”, on of the girls said, “You guys make such a cute couple!” Katsuki’s heart stopped. Did she really just say couple? Did they look like a couple?

He looked over at you. Was it the cold that made you look so flustered? Before any of you could explain anything the girls had moved on.

“I don’t usually get stopped, sorry about that...”, Katsuki muttered, “I wasn’t prepared to be recognized without the rest of the band.”

“It’s fine! I think you handled it well.”, her cheeks were shaded all shades of pink.

Katsuki’s apartment was really nice, but not that big. You forgot that even though Crimson Crypt was pretty famous, that didn’t mean he made a lot of money. Even so, this apartment definietly wasn’t cheap and neither was the furniture. You could tell by the big, brown, leather, couch in the livingroom.

“Wow, this is so nice... I love you’re decorating!”, you smiled and looked around the room.

“Mina helped me with a lot, I just told her what I liked.”, he shrugged.

“I didn’t take you for a plant person.”, you glanced on every plant in the room around you. There had to be at least seventeen.

“Their easy to manage, so there’s no real work really.”, he chuckled and walked into his bedroom. The walls were covered with bookshelves, filled with books and a few plants. His bed was big and seemed very soft and had very clean white sheets. By the looks of it, Katsuki was a bit of a perfectionist. Before you could tease him about it, though, he had picked up an acoustic and sat down in a hammock with it.

“Make yourself at home.”, he started tuning the guitar. You looked around for a place to sit and found a plush armchair. You sat down and pulled your legs up in the way too big chair for one person.

“Could you play me something?”, you ask out of the blue. He looked up at you, his eyes locked with yours. There was a moment where you felt like you had your head in the clouds, and all other sound was blocked out. He tore his gaze away from you by blinking.

“Yeah, sure.”. he said and started strumming on the guitar. You recognized the melody to be Cherry Wine by Hozier. Hadn’t you mentioned that song yesterday? The thought that he would remember that made your heart flutter again.

No, stop thinking about that. You have a boyfriend.

Instead of letting your thoughts get to you, you hummed along with his singing and closed your eyes.

“The way she tells me I’m hers and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist would be fine.The blood is red and sweet like cherry wine.”, Katsuki sang softly and you felt chills creeping up your back.

His voice captured your thoughts and every word had you on edge, even though you knew the lyrics. He had somehow manage to make you forget all the words with his voice.

Once he stopped you kept your eyes closed.

“You’re very good.”, you grinned, “Like... really good.”

Did she notice that he played Cherry Wine because of her? He would be lying if he said that he didn’t learn the chords to that yesterday after the dinner.

“I’m nothing compared to you though.”, he chuckled lightly and put down his guitar.

“Are you kidding?”, she laughed and it sounded so heavenly, “You’re voice is so cool! It’s soft but still has that rasp to it, and it sounds so natural too!”

If he could tell her that she sounds like the goddess Aphrodite herself, he would. He would tell her that every day if he could wake up next to her. Oh, to wake up next to her eyelashes fluttering open to let him drown in the universe of her irises. To hear her voice as she whispered out goodmorning and to kiss her soft lips with a feather like touch. But he couldn’t tell her that.

“Tch, whatever you say.”, he said, but his neutral tone didn’t match the slight warm smile that played on his lips.

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merakiaes · 5 years ago

Text

See You On The Other Side - John Shelby

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Requested: No.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: A bit of angst maybe? Idk hahah. This is something I had lying around in my drafts. I haven’t been able to do any requests today because I’ve been busy with my family, and I’ve also had a migraine sooo yeah, this is the best I can do today xD Not read through, but I hope you like it xx

Wordcount: 1982

Summary: A letter to John.

I remember the first time I looked into your eyes and felt my entire world flip, the first time I saw you smile, and knew that I was in trouble.

I had been across the room, tangled up in my own imagination, when came up to me. By the time you had said hello, we had already spent a lifetime together, and from the moment we started talking I knew that I wanted you around.

I knew right away that you were it for me. There were no reservations or second thoughts, I saw you and in an instant knew in my bones, my soul had known your soul lifetimes ago.

I had never experienced such a true and genuine state of happiness until I met you. Every day, I woke up with a smile on my lips, wondering what trouble you were going to get us into today.

I was there for all of it, the countless of scoldings from Arthur, the cuffs around the back of our heads from Pol and running from the coppers whenever you thought it wise to steal me a bouquet of flowers from old Anderson’s flower shop.

It’s those memories I treasure the most. The times we would go on midnight walks, kiss under the starry sky or in front of the fire, and wake up in each other’s arms would leave my chest and stomach fluttering with butterflies, too.

But it was when you were up to no good that you were truly yourself. Truly free. If only you knew how much those little moments with you mattered to me, how treasured they are.

It’s two in the morning when I write this. I can’t sleep, because I miss you so much. I miss you so much it physically pains me, just like I did last night, and just like I will tomorrow when I wake up without you. Again.

Polly, your brothers, and the kids help me through it. God, you should see them, John. They’re growing so much, so fast, and they look more and more like you for every day that passes.

Every time I look into their eyes, it both pains me and makes me feel all warm inside. They’ve got your eyes, all of them. Your deep, sparkling Shelby blue eyes. The very same ones I fell for.

They miss you, too, but they’re doing good. Better than me, at least. I guess it’s because they’re not really old enough to know what’s going on.

Katie and Harry understand the situation for what it is, but they’re still too young to really be able to grasp the seriousness of it. And Isabelle, Mia, Eric, Noah and Nick don’t understand it at all.

They don’t understand why you’re not coming home at night, why you’re not there to help them get ready in the mornings.

And even though I know it’s wrong of me to keep them in the dark, I can’t bring myself to tell them the truth when they come home from school every day with notes and drawings for you. It would break their little hearts and I can’t bear the thought of them feeling like this.

Katie and Harry write you letters, to back up my lies and make them more believable for the others, and all of it has just been piling up at the back of the wardrobe, stored away behind your clothes behind the loose wooden panel where you used to hide the cigars you told me you quit countless of times.

I bet you didn’t know I knew about that, huh?

The truth is, I always knew. I could smell it on your clothes and hands every night when you came home, no matter how much you tried to hide it with soap and cologne. That, and Harry came and told me the second he had caught you and you had made him promise not to tell me.

He truly is a mommy’s boy at heart. I always tried telling you.

But Katie was your girl. Everyone misses you, but she’s taken it the hardest.

I gave her the locket you gave me for our two year anniversary. The one with the picture of you and me on our wedding day. The only time she takes it off is when she sleeps, but even then, she never lets go of it.

She stopped wetting the bed, though, and she’s doing great in school. Harry, Isabelle, Mia, and Eric are, too, and all of them like math the best, just like you did.

Nick just learned how to write his name. He writes the ‘K’ backward, but he still learned earlier than the others. I’ve been teaching him a few short words myself, and I’ve started to teach Finn how to read.

He misses you really much. He blames himself. I don’t know why. He had nothing to do with what happened. But then again, I guess there’s no logic in grief.

He’s grown up a lot, both mentally and physically. He’s taller than all of your brothers now, and he’s added some muscle by boxing. But he’s still the same, sweet boy he was when you left.

He tries to be hard, though. He drinks, smokes, fights, takes drugs, and he’s been seeing prostitutes and taking on a much bigger part in the Peaky Blinders.

God, he tries so hard to be you. But every time he even comes close, he breaks down again, and every time that happens, he comes here.

He’s been staying over at our house more often than he’s home this past year, but I’m not complaining. He helps out around the house, keeps his cousins happy and occupied while I get the things I need to do done, and in return, he gives me something else to think about.

Polly says he feels your presence through me and the kids. She tells me they all do.

They’ve all been coming around for dinner every Sunday, and I have to sit in your chair every time. It makes me dizzy because I feel your presence stronger there than anywhere else. But I have no choice because Noah starts crying if anyone else even comes near it.

Those dinners are the only time during the weeks that I’m able to get my thoughts off of you, but it doesn’t last forever.

The minute they’re gone and the kids are asleep, I’m alone again, and being alone was never this hard before I met you.

Ada’s been trying to set me up with other men, but I can’t even bring myself to imagine giving my heart away to someone else.

I know that, when we thought you were going to be hanged for blowing up the train, you said that you wanted me to move on and be happy when you were gone.

I know that was your last request. Your dying wish. But I just can’t honor it.

When it comes down to it, you’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I can imagine myself with. Your hands are the only hands I want to hold, your lips are the only lips I ever want to kiss. You’re the only one I think about when a love song comes on the radio and the very last thought running through my head before I drift off to sleep. You’re the absolute only person I could ever see myself happy with.

I won’t ever be able to move on from you, because no amount of time, distance, nothing could separate us. Because I know that we were right, that we were real, that you’ll be waiting for me among the stars, and that I’ll come to find you again when I’m ready.

I just want to go back. To the time before it was too late.

There were a million things I wanted to say to you, but goodbye was not one of them. But even a million words will not bring you back, and neither will a million tears. I know because I’ve tried and I’ve cried. God knows I’ve cried.

I think of you every night before I fall asleep. The words you said. The way you looked. The things we laughed about, the silent moments we shared. And when I dream, I dream of you. Because it’s about you, it’s always about you.

I wish I could see you one more time, see you come walking through the door, so that I can say goodbye the way that I wanted. But I know that’s impossible because I realize if I got my way, I’d never say goodbye at all.

Today is the three year anniversary of the day that I lost you. And for a time it felt as though my life had ended too.

But the loss of you has taught me many things and now I face each day with hope and happy memories to help me on my way. And even though I’m full of sadness that you’re no longer by my side, your influence still guides me and I still feel you near.

I found a picture of you that I hadn’t seen in a while yesterday. I held it in my hands, lost for a moment in your smile.

It made me cry, but for the first time, not out of sadness. I cried from happiness because I knew that wherever you are now, I know in my heart that you’re still laughing and smiling like it’s your last day alive.

Rather than grieving that what we once had is now gone, I realize how truly lucky I am to have had something that makes saying goodbye this hard, and I smiled through my tears. A genuine smile, as I thanked God for the memories you’ve given us.

What we shared will never die. It lives within my heart, bringing me strength and comfort while we are apart. And I know that we will one day be together again.

I hope that you can see me, see us, and know that you’ll never be forgotten, that we’ll hold on until the day we get to see you again. Because there’s no one like you, John Shelby, and there will never be another that we can love like we did you.

I love you. It will only ever be you. As long as I live, as long as I breathe, with every beat of my heart, I will be yours and yours only, because you’re my forever. Forever my forever.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

You felt the warm, salty tears sting your eyes as you gazed upon the letters engraved into the gray, smooth stone; seventeen letters that built the name of the man who had changed your life forever.

Your legs were aching from having crouched down for so long, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, the violent thudding of your heart and the flurry of thoughts running through your brain pushing away everything else.

When a careful hand clasped down on your shoulder from behind, you flinched, the light touch bringing you back to reality and forcing you to blink the tears of your eyes.

“It’s time to say goodbye, love.” Polly spoke from behind you in a soft, careful tone, giving your shoulder another squeeze.

You swallowed, giving the stone another long look before finally pushing yourself back up into your full height.

Sniffling, you reached down and shakily put the flowers in front of the stone, tucking the letter you had written only hours before behind them to shield it from the rain.

Straightening yourself up, you shook your head. “No. It’s not goodbye. It’ll never be goodbye. It’s simply a ‘see you later’.” You said and finally smiled, because you knew deep in your heart, that you would see him at the other side of the stars.

#John Shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blidners #peaky blinders headcannon #finn shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #ada thorne #ada shelby #thomas shelby #polly gray #michael gray

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neerasrealm · 4 years ago

Note

Im re-reading the JasonxZalgo headcanons and thinking about how the confession went. Do you think you could write that specifically?👀

This was supposed to be an angry love confession but instead it devolved into fluff and crying OOPS. But uhh wow I really like writing jalgo. Or maybe I just like fast paced affection idk man

Hating your boss is a universal experience. This I'm sure of. If you don't despise your boss with every fiber of your being, you're in the wrong career. And if you're self employed...erm- go fuck yourself I guess??

But I think very few people can relate to despising your boss because he refuses to stop hugging you from behind while you're trying to get work done. Oh that's called sexual harassment? Hm. Well we don't exactly have a HR department considering we don't have an office and we live together. Alone. Oh well.

My boss is a man named Zalgo. He's tall, with copper brown skin and soft brown hair that's tipper with orange and red. He's charming, suave, intelligent, oh so handsome, and also an all powerful god of destruction. Yeah, weren't expecting that one now were ya?

Right now I'm sitting at my desk, trying to work while Zalgo stands behind me, leaning his full weight on my poor back and humming as he nuzzles his face affectionately into my neck. He's always affectionate and it drives me crazy in both the good and bad way. I adore the warmth that spreads throughout my body when he touches me. I adore the feeling of his palms running down my chest and the sounds of him humming and giggling just inches from my ear. But I also hate it. I hate the way my stomach lurches when he affectionately purrs my name. I hate the way he looks at me and I hate the way he makes me feel.

If it were anyone, anyone else I'd be overjoyed at feeling this way but...it can't be Zalgo. He's- well...Zalgo. An all powerful god, a being so far above me and...a man. Zalgo has never addressed it but...being a god shouldn't he know? How bad it is? What would happen if someone, ANYONE from the human race were to see us as we are now? Reveling in the warmth of love's young touch, melting against and into it like the warmth of a fire.

He hums again, his breath feels warm against my neck and it makes me break out in goosebumps. His hands hold my hips as he stands up, his warmth and weight moving away and leaving me colder but with better posture.

"Take a break, Jason." He says, his voice smooth and cheerful. I don't want to argue with him, so I do as I'm told. I sit back a bit and Zalgo quickly moves to my front. He sits on my lap, my fucking lap and runs his hand all over me. Down my front, my back, my chest. He grips my hip with one hand and intertwines our fingers with the other. He squeezes my hand and nuzzles my neck. My breath catches in my throat and my body shudders.

The sensation of being touched is overwhelming. He's so warm, so soft. I can't stand it. I can't! He's too kind, he's too beautiful, he's too perfect! Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been anyone else? And why me? Why does he shower me, of all people, with all of this unwarranted affection and words as sweet as honey? What did I do to earn him…?

"Jason…" he breathes against my neck. Delicate, strong hands unbutton my shirt and his lips press against the flesh of my throat, gliding down and pressing kisses against me, blocking air from me for only a few moments before moving away again. I say that like it's possible to breathe with Zalgo kissing up my throat, nipping and sucking on my skin like he owns it. He chuckles against me, a low soft noise that sends butterflies through my stomach.

"Zalgo…" I breathe above him. All I can see of him is his strong body moving below me, and the top of his hair. It's so...soft looking. My hand, the one not gripping Zalgo's like a vice, moves up and I run it through his hair. It's as soft as I thought it would be, and running my hand through it feels so, so good. God I- I could stay here forever, just playing with his hair…

"Jason." Zalgo repeats again. I hum softly. He pulls his head of soft hair away from my hand and I look down at him. He stares up at me with deep, golden eyes and I feel myself falling into them. Falling into the colour, into the way they shine, falling into the confident, charming grin on his face, falling head over heels in love all over again. And every time it feels so painful knowing it'll never go past this. Never go past these nights in my workshop, where I'm left just dreaming for something more than this.

His hands delicately cup my face and he leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. Our noses are touching. He's so close, I can feel every part of him against every part of me but it still isn't enough. I want to feel his arms around me, I want him to hold me tight against him, I want to feel his lips against mine, I want to hear him purr my name and tell me all the feelings I know he doesn't have for me.

"Zalgo." I whisper to him. His eyes open, bright and gold, staring straight into me. I melt against him. He's staring at me, calm and patient. I just- I just want to tell him everything I feel for him...the way he makes my stomach do flips, the way his touch sends goosebumps across my skin, the way I hear his voice in my dreams. The words are there but my mouth won't speak them. All I can do is let out a hoarse croak that's supposed to be sweet nothings, like the ones Zalgo gives me so casually.

"Jason?" He moves away from me, suddenly looking worried. "Jason are you crying?" He asks me oh-so-gently. I gulp and blink. I didn't even realize- my eyes had started tearing up, stinging as tears roll down my face. I gulp. "What's wrong?" His hand runs through my hair.

I love you is all I want to say. I love you but it's not possible, I love you but you're a god, I love you but I can't because we both had to be men. Guilt ties a knot in my stomach and makes me only sob harder.

"Jason, Jason dear it's okay." He breathes. I sniffle, whining like a child. "What's wrong?"

"I-" my voice sounds high pitched, feeble and scared. I swallow thickly. "Z-Zalgo I…" I can't say it. I can't I can't I can't. Zalgo's hands hold my face again and he looks at me. Those eyes, those damn golden eyes are so full of love and compassion and I hate it.

"...I know." He whispers. I inhale sharply.

"Wh-what?"

"I know." He repeats. He wipes a tear from my eye and I sniff weakly. I don't understand I don't- what does he- "I love you too, nounour."

And that breaks me. That was the final fucking push I needed to break into pathetic tears. He always knows how to make me cry, doesn't he…?

His arms wrap around me, holding me close. It's nothing but more shame. I'm weak, cowardly, I burst into tears so easily, and now I'm being held and comforted and shushed. He's rubbing circles into my back, murmuring his sweet nothings again. I love him, I love him so much and he knows that.

So is that why he's kissing me? Is that why he moved over and pressed his soft, warm lips against mine? Is that why he's kneading against me, his hands cupping my face? Is this it…? Is this the dream I've always been chasing? Or is he just placating me?

"Jason." He murmurs as our lips part. "You're the closest friend I have ever had. You're the person I trust more than anyone," he caresses my jawline, his voice soft and so loving. "I love you...dearly."

I stare up at him. "...is this a lie?" I breathe. It's bold, calling his bluff like this, but what do I have to lose now?

He shakes his head. "Never." He replies as he leans down and kisses me again. "...not about this."

Somehow I believe him. Somehow I believe he genuinely cares about me...somehow, I can believe, Zalgo is capable of loving someone like me. And that’s why I melt into his kisses and let him hold me tight for what feels like hours. Our lips melt so naturally together, our hands feel so perfect on one another like they were always meant to be that way. I love him, well and truly, and he loves me too. It’s something he has told me time and time again but as I lay in bed next to him, staring into his eyes, it’s not something he even has to say...and neither do I.

#creepypasta #jalgo #jason the toymaker #zalgo creepypasta #zalgo #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #writing #ask #zilia1938

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justauthoring · 5 years ago

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I Don’t Wanna Die Alone [Xavier Plympton]

Request(s): I would like to request a Xavier Plympton x reader kind of angsty. So for plot I would like of Xavier and the reader had a pre-established relationship and it's a healthy relationship. They get along well and genuinely love one another. I would like the reader to get killed or seriously hurt and for Xavier to find them. Xavier desperately trying to help but knowing there is nothing he can do. If the reader is just hurt maybe he can lay with them as they hear jingles walking towards them. Thanks!

can you do one with xavier where the reader hits her head badly trying to run and dies in xavier’s arms at camp redwood. idk if you’ve watched teen wolf or not but maybe like vibes from the scene where allison died. ???

Hi hello I would like to request an Xavier/Reader fic where Xavier witnesses reader’s death, and how that affects him when interacting with reader in the camp as ghosts. Relationship is your choice but my vote is on romantic :)

Requested by: @redama

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

Word Count: 1,974

Notes: ya’ll, as much as i will always love evan, seeing an edit of this dude is what made me wanna watch ahs in the first place and i feel so fucking satisfied to finally be able to write for him lol. i literally just finished 1984 and i cannot help but write right now even tho im sick and have work early in the morning. so appreciate my dedication here :)

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

It felt like your lungs were on fire. Your body was screaming at you to stop, but your mind kept reminding you of why you couldn’t -- because if you did, he’d find you and kill you.

You just had to have a shower; you couldn’t just listen to Margaret and wait until the morning. Or at least, accept Xavier’s offer to join you. That way you wouldn’t be alone right now, running from a crazed murderer. And Jesus, you barely had time to even get dressed. Your hair was a soaking wet mop on top of your head and all you had on was your shorts and bra; the fucking asshole didn’t even give you time to put on your shoes.

All you wanted was Xavier. Part of you, maybe you were going crazy, would be satisfied dying if it meant getting to die with Xavier. Not alone. If you were going to die, which it really felt like you were going to you, you didn’t want to do it alone.

You’d tried screaming, louder then you ever had before. Your throat was raw but it seemed no one could hear you; which sucked ass. You hadn’t thought you were that far from the cabins, but apparently you were farther then you thought because there was no one coming to save you. Absolutely no one. All you could count on was your years of track in High School and pray that got you far enough that you could at least find someone.

Or out run Mr. Jingles. That’d be great to. Find a place to hide, something.

Taking a sharp turn to the right, you hiss lightly at your arm scraping against a branch. It stings and you allow yourself a moment to glance down at the now bleeding scratch on your arm before pushing it to the back of your mind, focusing your attention on your steps and where to take them. The entire forest felt like a damned maze and you were clearly lost without any knowledge on how to get to either the road or back to Camp Redwood.

You were starting to feel like you were going crazy. Insane. Something of the like. Your heart was beating a mile per minute and your skin was clammy with sweat and you just wanted to sleep. You wanted to be in Xavier’s arms, laying comfortably against his chest while he held you close.

A sudden scream pulls you from your thoughts. It causes you to halt, coming to a sudden and sharp stop as you turn your head sharply over your shoulder. You expect to hear footsteps, another screaming, something but for a moment, it’s just silence. Complete and utter silence. All you can hear is your own rapid breath and the sound of the adrenaline pumping in your veins from the absolute terror running through your entire body.

And then, it’s just faint, you hear your name. Someone’s calling out for you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are you! Are you okay?”

That’s... That’s Xavier!

Eyes widening with hope, you feel your lips twitching into just the faintest of smiles, thinking that if anyone will be able to save you, it’ll be him. You move to turn, your lips parting to call out for Xavier in return. However, you don’t hear the approaching footsteps or notice the figure that falls to your left. You don’t, at least, until there’s a sharp pain in your left shoulder. Your lips part, a gasp falling past your lips as you start up into the face of none other then Mr. Jingles.

He rips the knife out of your shoulder, and you stumble back in response, your hand shakily raising to fall over the wound. You glance down briefly, watching the blood pool your skin, before turning back to Mr. Jingles.

“Please...” You breathe shakily, “don’t--!”

You never get to finish your stomach before he stabs you again; this time directly in your stomach. Your knees grow weak beneath you and as he mercilessly pulls the knife from you once more, you no longer have the strength to hold yourself up. You hit the ground with a thud, a whimper leaving your lips as your vision blurs.

Mr. Jingles crawls over you, knees on either side of you as he easily pushes your head to the side, revealing your ear to him. With a almost mocking gentleness he brushes your hair back, taking the top of your ear and slicing it right off. Somehow you have the strength to scream; it piercing the silence of the forest as Mr. Jingles simply stands up, with his price, and stalks off.

He just leaves you there.

It feels like hours, but can’t be more than a few moments, you just graveling on the ground, before another figure falls next to you. You assume it to be Mr. Jingles, coming to finish the job quicker then he’d originally intended and you don’t have the strength to fight or scream or even really cry. But then warm arms are pulling you into a lap and you blink, glancing up to meet Xavier’s piercing blue eyes staring back down at you.

Except, his eyes are flooded with welling tears as he gets a good look at you.

“X-Xavier...”

“Y/N... Oh, God... Oh, God, Y/N--!”

Shaking your head, your lips part to speak, but you find yourself choking on your own blood, it pooling around your mouth. Your body jerks in response, Xavier desperately attempting to apply pressure to your wounds but you know it’s useless.

You raise your hand, settling it over his own with a shaky determination. Your action pulls his eyes on you and with your eyes glossing over, you smile up at him. “I... I love you...”

Your body falls limp in his hands then.

“Y/N... Y/N, Y/N, wake up!” Xavier finds the words pouring from his lips, unable to think rationally as he desperately tries to shake you back awake. But, of course, nothing words. And eventually, he ends up just pulling you close, curling you up against him as a sob breaks past his lips.

Montana finds him moments later.

“Xavier, we have-- oh, shit, Y/N! No, no, no!”

Finally pulling his gaze up, Xavier meets Montana’s gaze through a blurred vision. “I was too late,” he whispers, voice a raspy imitation of how he normally sounds. “He got to her before I... I couldn’t save her...”

Montana’s lips part to say something, but she finds herself speechless. Her heart wrenches at the thought of you dead, given that the two of you had always been close, and she’s never quite seen Xavier so... helpless. She wants to say something to comfort him, but doesn’t know what. And seeing you, lifeless in his arms, hurts her just as much.

However, before she can dwell on it much longer, the sound of keys jingling echoes.

“Oh, fuck!” Montana curses, pushing herself up to her feet desperately and latching onto Xavier’s arm. “Come on, Xav. We got to go. We got to go!”

“No, no!” Xavier cries, holding onto your body tighter. “I’m not leaving her here.”

“We have to go!”

“I’m not leaving her here!”

“Look at me, look at me!” Grabbing Xavier tightly by the cheeks, Montana pulls his gaze sharply on her own. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to die like this, okay? She’d want you to live! She’d want you to survive. We both know it!” Breathless, Xavier stays silent, unable to argue with Montana. “So, we have to go!”

One glance down at you and Xavier knows she’s right.

Shakily, he eases his grip on you, setting you gently back on the ground and moving to stand up. However, before he does, he slips his jacket off, placing it over you as to cover you the best he can. “Okay,” he whispers, voice broken. “Let’s go.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.”

Xavier stays silent, back turned to you as he stares out blankly in front of him.

Sighing, you shake your head, daring to take another step forward. “We are stuck here for eternity, Xav.” You remind softly, continuing to walk forward more and more. You don’t stop until you’re directly behind Xavier, making sure he can’t run off like he has all times before. You’re desperate for him to finally face you. “You can’t just ignore me.”

“Why do you even want to talk to me in the first place?”

Jerking your head back in surprise -- at both the fact that this is the first time Xavier’s spoke to you since you’d woken up from death and his actual words -- you blink at the back of Xavier’s head. However, soon enough he’s spinning to face you, his eyes finally meeting your own as he shakes his head at you. You find yourself also surprised at the tears in his eyes.

Gathering yourself, you shake your head; “what’re you talking about?”

“You died!” He calls out, causing you to furrow your brows. Huffing, he clarifies himself; “you died because of me.”

Lips parting, you move to respond, but find yourself unable to. Is that what he thinks? That he killed you? He must’ve lost his damn mind because you know for a fact that it was Mr. Jingles who killed you. The fact that he actually blames himself... you feel your heart twist uncomfortably, shaking your head desperately as you reach out for Xavier. He only steps back from your touch causing your arms to fall by your side helplessly.

“Is that what you think?” You whisper, never tearing your gaze off his own. “Xav, you didn’t kill me... Mr. Jingles did.”

“I let you go off on your own! I... wasn’t quick enough!” Inhaling sharply, Xavier wipes at his cheeks desperately, trying to hide the tears that profusely fall down his cheeks. Then, he gathers himself enough to utter one last sentence, a broken whisper. “I didn’t protect you.”

You step forward, reaching out for Xavier. This time he doesn’t pull away, shoulders slumping as your hands move to cup his cheeks, shaking your head repeatedly. “You did protect me,” you whisper, “you always did. And I didn’t die because of you. I died because of some pathetic man. I ran off to have a shower, I didn’t let you come with me... So, please,” letting your thumb stroke his cheek softly, you smile up at him. “Just... kiss me.”

Xavier’s resolve slowly falls with each word. By the end of it, his tears have halted and he finds himself stunned by your forgiveness. He finds his hands reaching out for you, desperate for your touch as his hands fall on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You want me to kiss you?”

“I’ve never wanted you to kiss me more than I have now.”

A smirk crawls onto his lips and slowly but surely, Xavier leans down, pressing his lips against your own. The kiss is short, chaste, but it means everything to you. Able to hold Xavier like this again means everything to you. Your arch into his touch, your hand sliding up the back of his neck as you moan into the kiss, Xavier returning it with just as much ferocity.

It’s been so long since you’ve been able to kiss him like this.

Pulling back, Xavier leans his forehead against your own, breathless. “I’ve missed you...”

“Well,” you smile lightly, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Like I said, we have all of eternity here... You’ll never have to miss me again.”

Xavier’s faint smile turns into a grin.

“I like the sound of that.”

Let me know what you thought?

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ladybugsfanfics · 5 years ago

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Seven Days [1/7]

→ Pairing: prince!Loki Odinson x pirate!reader

(eventually prince!Loki x pirate!Steve Rogers x pirate!reader)

→ WC: 3.1k

→ Warnings: Smut, some blood gore, idk, awkwardness, nightmares, (countless) sexual innuendos

→ Summary: Prince Loki has run sick of not feeling welcome at the palace and asks to join you and your life forever. You give him seven days to try the new life, seven days to realize how much he loves you. And in those seven days, he learns to know you, and himself (and the first mate) a little better… In the end, he only has one question left to answer. Will he stay?

A/N: I’m so excited for this, and it’s finally here. This was originally a part of @nastybuckybarnes writing challenge but that ended in september so I think that ship’s sailed (still tagging you tho, i’m sorry). anyways, i hope you like it as much as i do ^_^

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

PROLOGUE

His cloak flutters as the wind brushes past him. It nips at his exposed skin and nearly drags off the hood covering his face. He wraps the cloak tighter around him, tells his rapidly beating heart he’s making the right decision.

The night life of Asgard is full, he notes, as he walks into the market square. Most of the booths have closed shop for the evening, yet people walk in hushed whispers and loud yells across the cobblestones. Heels clank against the rough surface, his own along with everyone else’s. The air smells of booze and saltwater, of sweat and perfume.

He walks past an open inn. Loud noises of music, games, and drinks clattering against each other in celebration fills the open streets. He rushes past, the inn being too close for someone not to recognize him.

Moments later, the port welcomes him. The booths and a few inns exchanged with taverns and ships lining the docks. Seawater fills his nose as he grows closer. The sounds of earlier fades into the background to leave space for the louder noise of drunk sailors and maids having their fun. A smile tugs at his lips at the sound of the ocean splashing against the stones of the dock.

A deep breath gives him the courage to walk past the numerous amounts of people around him. He avoids eye contact, keeping his head low as he weaves through the crowd. The wind tugs at his hood again. Trembling fingers pulls it back over his head. His heart beats faster, making its presence in his rib cage known.

Finally, he sees it.

In the dark of the night, the ebony wood that lines the ship mixes into the dark blue of the water. The masts rise into the air, sails wrapped around them waiting to be let loose and feel the wind push against them. His eyes scan the people, seeing a few walking the gangplank onto it.

One person catches his eyes, standing at the helm. The shadow moves along the railing, looking out at the sea. Hair blows in the wind, creating the image of a captain ready to get back on the water.

His breath hitches at the sight, and he moves his feet faster. Boots clank against the stones, a rhythm he doesn’t mean to make. He stops by the gangplank, waiting for the acceptance to be let on.

You smile as you catch his eyes in the dark. Not the typical teasing smirk that usually spreads across your features when you meet. Not the happy one you sport when you tell him you love him. Not the sad one you have when you let him know it’s time to leave.

No.

This one is special. This smile lights up in your eyes, tells him to take those few steps aboard. Your smile is one he hasn’t seen before. It covers all your emotions. The happiness of him coming. The disappointment of him coming. The excitement for the coming seven days.

He takes the last step onto the ship. His boot connects with the ships wood, making that one sound he has been dying to hear. Your hands are clasped behind your back. You stand straight and, despite the smile on your face, the authority reeks of you.

He likes this new image he can see.

He doesn’t regret it one bit that he asked the question. Seven days is what he has to prove that he can survive on a pirate ship. Seven days to prove that he does love you. Seven days to prove that, even if it’s hell on Earth, it’s hell on Earth with you and he wants to spend every moment in your presence.

Seven days to prove himself worthy.

DAY ONE

Compared to what Loki is used to, everything about the little food he got tastes stale. He drowns the bread down with a glass of wine, and it still leaves his tongue dry and itchy. He’d gotten an old apple at the side, too. ( “A little something on me since it’s your first day,” was what the first mate had added when the man placed the apple next to him. He’d given him a tight, fake smile and patted his back a little hard.)

The apple tastes nothing like apples are supposed to. The usual juicy and sweet bite he expects is bitter, dry and soft. His first reaction would be to spit it out and demand another, but he can’t do that now. He swallows the bite, pinching his eyes shut at the sour taste, and takes a sip of wine to drown out what lingers on his tongue.

And then he repeats the process until the whole apple, save the core, is gone. His shoulders slump and he takes the last of the wine in one big gulp, in a desperate attempt to completely rid of the dry aftertaste of the apple and the bread that remains in his mouth.

“Easy there, bud,” says a voice behind him, “wouldn’t want you to down everything on the first day.”

Loki turns his head. Behind him stands a male clad in a loose shirt and a pair of pants―no shoes. The man has unusually well-groomed, brown hair and a goatee. He smiles at Loki, a lopsided smile that doesn’t really tell Loki anything other than let him know this man might not be of that much importance.

“I’m Tony,” he says, “most people ‘round here call me Stark.”

“I’m Loki Odinson, the―” He cuts himself off before he says his title. Not only did he get on this ship to escape that life, it also holds no authority. Maybe he should have dropped the Odinson? It would be an easy connection.

Tony nods. “I know, everyone knows. Welcome aboard Vicious Storm, prince. Don’t expect special treatment.” He smiles, or smirks? “Or, maybe you should?”

“Stop bothering him, Stark.” Your voice drags Loki’s attention away from the man in front of him. You stop at Loki’s side, a small smile on your lips as you divert your gaze to Tony. The man does a salute, which has you roll your eyes. The smile stays, though. “Go do something useful.”

“Will do,” replies Tony. He smirks as he walks down to the other end of the ship.

Loki looks to you. “What’s in that direction?”

You widen your eyes, as if you realised something. “Oh, you don’t know where things are yet.” You shake your head. “Down that end you find our surgeon, Dr. Strange. Would recommend saying hi to him every once in a while, though the man doesn’t talk too much with anyone but Stark.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know, he doesn’t really want to be here.” You shrug. “But, that’s not why I’m here now. You done eating?”

Loki nods.

“Good.” You nod. “Come with me. Gonna introduce you to some people, though I hear you’ve already met Rogers?”

Loki makes a grimace at the sound of the first mate’s name. “It is not something I would like to repeat.”

You chuckle. “I’m not even sorry when I say that that’s gonna be hard.” You take Loki’s hand in yours, dragging him up from where he sits and with you out into the sunshine that bathes the main deck.

You walk over to the end (it’s the rear since it has the wheel, right?―Loki notes to learn more about what things are called). In a huddle stands five people, talking and laughing with each other. You cough to get their attention and they all stand up straight.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, a frown coating your face as your gaze drags over the five people saluting you.

The first mate relaxes, shooting you a smile (and winks at Loki). “You said to have manners. Ain’t this manners?”

“This,” ―you gesture at the other four who all relax back into normal postures― “is not what I talked about.”

Rogers smiles. “Sorry, I tried my best.”

You roll your eyes, but an amused smile plays on your lips. Loki finds he rather likes the look in your eyes, only he wishes it wasn’t directed at the first mate―he tries to drown the sting in his heart at your playfulness with him, but he can’t deny the jealousy that comes with you being close to someone as good looking as Rogers.

“Anyways,” says one of the other men, “why’d you ask us to meet you here?” The male is bald, with a dark complexion Loki hasn’t seen with many other’s of the crew. He noticed a few, but for the most part, there are crew with the same pale, white skin as he himself has.

“Yeah, I want to introduce you.” You nudge Loki a little closer to you and the group, hand still holding onto his. He’s grateful to rely on some of your strength. Being in a different environment than he’s used to makes for interesting jabs at his pride and confidence, jabs he hadn’t thought would come when he’d asked to join you.

“Loki, this is Wilson. He’s our pilot.” Loki hides his surprise as the man holds out a hand for him to shake―the first one to do so in the little time he’d been aboard the ship. He takes the man’s hand, giving a curt nod to the smile the male sends him. “Bet you’ll get along, at least a little.”

The next person is a male with longer, brown hair that flows around his head and lands past his shoulders. Loki notes that one of his arms is metal, but he decides not to comment and makes a mental note to ask you later. “Barnes.” He doesn’t hold out his hand, but gives a nod which Loki returns.

“Welcome aboard Vicious Storm, my prince.” The red-headed woman makes a mock-curtsy, looking up at him through her lashes with a bright smirk. The men around her snicker. Loki makes no reaction.

You roll your eyes. “Mature, Nat, mature.”

Nat stands up. She gives Loki a more genuine smile, which he returns with a tight-lipped one (that gives away his ‘poker’ face). “Call me anything but Romanoff and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Based on her tone, Loki believes her. “Noted.”

“Clint,” says the male next to Romanoff and holds out a hand for Loki to shake. The man, though with a slightly lighter brown shade, has the same styled hair as Tony. Clint also has a goatee, though less prominent. Loki takes the man’s hand and shakes it. He returns the grin Clint gives him, though a little hesitantly. “We’ll be best friends, promise.”

Loki glances at you, and you roll your eyes with a small smile. Of the four he’s been properly introduced to, he has to admit he likes Clint the best.

And then he turns to the first mate, who eagerly holds out his hand for Loki to shake. “Steve Rogers,” he says, a wicked grin coating his (stupidly handsome) face―jawline covered with a full beard that suits him very well, and longer, blonde hair slicked back (he looks too well-groomed for a pirate).

Loki, who was raised with manners, takes Rogers’s hand and shakes it. The pressure is slightly harder than Wilson’s and Clint’s, but surprisingly lighter than Loki expected. Rogers leans in, the wicked grin still on his lips. His breath is hot on Loki’s ear. “Please, call me Steve,” he whispers and pulls back.

You and the four other people raise your brows at the first mate’s behaviour. Loki tries to steady his beating heart (to be honest, Steve gives him a ...weird and almost frightening vibe).

“Okay,” you say, “that was… I don’t know what that was but I ain’t gon’ ask either an’ now we’re gon’ go before more happens.” You tug on Loki’s hand―the one that has been holding onto his this whole time it’s weird you haven’t pulled away by how clammy it has gotten―and Loki swallows the lump in his throat as he pulls his gaze away from Steve.

As the two of you walk, Loki takes a glance back at the group. Steve looks after you and Loki, and the other four whisper with each other whilst looking at Steve―had that behaviour been that odd? Loki vows not to be alone with the first mate.

Ever.

---

He’d noticed the smell when he’d first stepped on board the ship. The mixed stench of human sweat and rotting fish, an odor that gets a little better at the main deck where the breeze filled with the smell of sea can take away some of the vile one that hurts his nose.

It’s first now, bored to death as he leans against the railing trying to tame his queasy stomach that he really notices it. Loki can’t say it helps very much to how he’s feeling.

He swallows the little that makes its way up his throat, though quickly regrets it as it only heightens the feeling and he leans over to rid himself off it. His throat hurts as he uses his sleeve to wipe away the excess.

“We’ve all been there, buddy.” Clint pats his back and nods. “Heck, most o’ us are still there. Does get a lil’ better, but everyone’s emptyin’ their guts every now and then.”

Loki swallows―something he quickly regrets―and rubs his temples. “I have to admit, when I asked I thought the worst part would be the blood and gore, not… sea sickness.”

Clint nods. “Trust me, thought so, too.” He gives Loki a tiny smile. “But instead o’ this, what’cha say to a round? Got some mates up there, bettin’ some good money. And I’ll give you somethin’ to wash that taste down with.”

“A round of what?”

A mischievous glint lights up in Clint’s eyes. “A round o’ whatever.” He winks. “Won’t give up an opportunity to beat Rogers, now would you?”

Loki nods. “He’s playing?”

Clint nods.

“Well, lead the way.”

They make their way to the helm (Loki asked you what the back with the wheel is called, the answer; the helm). Where he got introduced to some of the crew earlier in the day, is now a group―bigger than the five he was introduced to―sitting in a ring. In the middle he sees a pair of dice.

“Ey, look who decided to join.” The first mate smirks in Loki’s direction and makes room for him to sit down next to him. “Time to place our bets, gentlemen.” Steve winks at Loki and looks onto the crowd around him as Loki sits down in the space made for him.

Everyone holler out a number between five and nine. Loki keeps his mouth shut, not sure what they’re playing. Steve picks up the dice and rolls them, creating a total of seven. A few men groan and move out of the circle to stand and watch.

The remaining men holler out another set of numbers. Steve rolls the dice again. Five. Two of the men move out of the circle. There are five men left, each holler out a number. Steve rolls; eight. Two men remain in the circle. They give each other a wicked grin, and yell out a new number.

Steve rolls the dice. As they spin around on the deck, the silence is deafening. The wind brushes past Loki, nipping at his cheeks. It makes his hair flap around him, annoyingly slap his face. He tucks it away, eyes still glued to the dice that come still on the ebony wood of the deck.

Nine.

Both men groan and glare at Steve, who shrugs with a smirk. “Hand it over, boys.” His voice is cocky, too arrogant for someone surrounded by a gang of annoyed pirates. But, Steve himself is a pirate. And the men pay up, putting down different sets of things in front of Steve.

The first mate picks some of the things, putting them in his pockets and then pushes the rest of the heap into the center. “Play me for it?”

Loki is well aware of the little glance the male gives his way, as if the question is directly meant for him. He nods as the men come back to form a new circle. Everyone hollers out a number.

Steve rolls the dice. Eight. Loki keeps his place, though he suppresses the smirk he wants―so he doesn’t have that good a poker face, this is rather a game of luck.

They holler out a new number. Steve rolls. The dice spins on the deck. Stop. Six. Loki can feel the tug of his lips as he lets his shoulders fall down.

They six men seated in the circle holler out a new number. Steve throws the dice; eight. Loki can feel the glares stare daggers in his back; already heated by the scorching sun the glares only add to the feeling of finally being somewhere else.

They’re three men left now. All three yell different numbers. Steve rolls the dice. One lands quickly at a four. The other spins, and spins, and spins. It loses momentum and Loki can see the number it’s going to land on; one. Subtly, he flicks his wrist, giving the little extra it needs to fall on the two he needs.

All eyes land on him as he lets the smirk color his face. Steve shakes his head, though if Loki doesn’t see hallucinations he believes he saw the hint of an amused smile before the man went back to his rather teasing look.

“Who won?”

Loki perks up at the sound of your voice.

“Your toy,” replies Steve, though nothing layers his voice as Loki would have thought.

As he sorts through the pile of garbage they played about, Loki can feel you roll your eyes behind him. He smiles and, finding something of value, he leaves the heap and stands up. He turns to you raising a brow in his direction.

“Having fun?” you ask.

Loki smiles. “I will be in a moment.” A little ‘ooooh’ goes through the crowd of men as he takes your hand and tugs you with him. Newfound energy can do a lot.

Also, he would rather have you in his arms where he can trade the rotting stench he’d forgotten a little with your smell. He wishes to trade the sound of grown men groaning at losing a game designed for them to lose, to the sound of your voice hoarsely and breathlessly whispering his name.

So far, he’d made the right decision.

#loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki #fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers #pirate au #au #loki au #prince loki #marvel #marvel fic #avengers #reader insert #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #polyamourous #lgbt

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whoslaurapalmer · 5 years ago

Note

⭐

oh this is a lot of power. i will actually pick something from two different fics because if i talk about the selection of poetry for one i feel compelled to say something about the poetry in the other and when else will i get this chance

this part from an afternoon long ago --

"We are not sure of sorrow, and joy was never sure," he quoted, and his voice shook just as much. "To-day will die to-morrow; time stoops to no man's lure."

He still quoted poetry in the same tone, with that soft reverence. Bertrand blinked a few times until the stinging in his eyes left and he could continue the stanza. "And love, grown faint and fretful, with lips but half regretful—sighs, and with eyes forgetful, weeps that no loves endure."

GARDEN OF PROSERPINE WAS NOT MY FIRST CHOICE. i wound up picking it because i think “that no loves endure” was a really important line for bertrand and lemony to acknowledge, after all this time, especially for a scene that was as achingly sad as it was, and i stand by that, but there was a completely different poem that i wanted there instead that i thought fit a little more thematically, which was to my love by john godfrey saxe, which is a genuinely romantic poem. but i also wanted, whatever poem they quoted, for the whole poem to make sense, and the last stanza of to my love didn’t really fit with the scene, and when they quoted it in my first draft, i had to cut a line from the first stanza for it to really make sense, so i started thinking that it just didn’t sit right. also, as good a poem as it is, and as romantic as it is, i didn’t know how i felt about bertrand quoting saxe to lemony, when saxe was something he shared with dewey.

proserpine was still not my second choice! i did a quick poetry hunt (because i was trying to get the fic done) and considered “loving you less than life, a little less” by edna st. vincent millay (it came close, but not the exact vibe i wanted), [stutter] by leslie harrison (it had the sadness, and hit some lemony notes, but ultimately i thought it was too, hard), and december by michael miller (great great great vibes!!! but not applicable for the fic or, really, the pairing). then i decided to reread proserpine, and i figured, it probably captured everything the best. putting poetry in a fic is hard.

beatrice’s free verse poetry in and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones, and her starting the letter with my heart and i by elizabeth barrett browning

SO. previously you asked me for another ask meme how much of canon I’m willing to ignore/skip over, and like happens when i get asked anything, my mind immediately blanks, and i completely forgot about something very specific that i did just. ignore in this fic last year. yes, i WAS AWARE that canonically beatrice wrote sonnets. i even brought it up in a completely different fic a few years ago (what are you doing the rest of your life)!!!!! and yet! while writing this fic! i straight. up. forgot!!!!! i am reasonably sure i did remember while writing that she wrote sonnets, pretty sure i then proceeded to say ‘you know what??? fuck it.’ and just moved on, for what i felt were totally legitimate reasons --

1) i myself do not typically write rhyming or structured poetry, and especially not sonnets. it’s free verse all day long with me. and because i base so much of how i write beatrice on me, it just felt right for me to give her free verse poetry as well. and i didn’t want to write in iambic pentameter, of all things. who does, even?????

2) when i thought about it, i didn’t want her to write sonnets specifically, although you could make a case that such a loud and bold character (especially for how i headcanon her) would, in contrast, write that kind of structured poetry, as a form of control, especially over something so unstable as emotions, but you can just as easily make the case that beatrice would find that kind of poetry too restrictive, and lean more towards free verse because it aligns more naturally with who she is and doesn’t require any extra exertion of control and there’s a relief in doing one thing that doesn’t have to be perfect. the latter being what i went with. i actually rewrote some of the poetry to be more, loose? i guess? or vague? idk. (it is very vague poetry let’s be honest.) (it resulted in me feeling restricted while writing it, because i was trying to make sure it didn’t sound like my own poetry.)

3) TO COMPROMISE, i thought, maybe she likes or admires structured and straightforward poetry, because it’s something she can’t get herself to do, which is why the letter starts with my heart and I by elizabeth barrett browning, which was also to parallel the beatrice letters ending with my silence knot. i considered putting the poem at the end, since my silence knot is at the end of the letters, but i thought it would be like a, stronger bookend sort of thing if i had the poem at the beginning of the letter. i still worry that the poem makes more sense at the end, instead of the beginning, but i think it’s a good opener, too.

#lulu talks about the sad lemon man #thank you vera!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#tangentiallly

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