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effeminateboyninja · 4 years ago

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Hi! can you do nsfw kakashi x f!reader with reader riding him pls? :) ty! ❣️

absolutely! i'm always a slut for kakashi

~ Take what you want ~

(Kakashi x afab!reader) nsfw // 1.9k words

It had been a long day. As soon as you were over the threshold of your apartment you kicked your sandals off haphazardly, not even bothering to aim them at the shoe rack beside the entrance. Which incidentally turned out to be a bad idea because you tripped on them a moment later on your way to the bedroom. A low curse escaped your lips. Could you not just get home and relax?

You picked up the offending sandal and chucked it towards the rack, appreciating the low thud it made when it hit the wall just above its target. Once you finally reached your true destination — your glorious, warm bed that seemed to beckon you with its soft linens — you collapsed, not even bothering to strip off your dirty work clothes before letting the soft duvet envelop you.

Comfortable at last, you barely even noticed the sound of the shower turning off in the other room or your boyfriend’s light footsteps as he approached you. It wasn’t until you felt his weight on the bed beside you that you opened your eyes to see Kakashi, his towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, the silver line of hair leading to his manhood peaking out.

“How was work, babe?” he asked with a quick peck.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and he nodded in understanding, flashing you a sympathetic smile and giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He moved to the other side of the bed to get dressed and you watched as he let the towel slip on to the floor revealing his naked body to you. His skin still glistened from the water, chiseled muscles from so many years of training rippling slightly as he moved. He was so effortlessly dazzling, even after all this time his lithe form brought a blush to your cheeks.

Once he was clothed — partially at least, in just boxers and loose pajama pants — he fell into the bed beside you and reached for his book on the nightstand. He looked like a greek god sprawled out like that on his back, one muscular arm positioned behind his head to prop it up while he scanned the pages of the book he held in front of his striking face. Your gaze wandered down to his exposed chest and traced the lines of his defined pectoral muscles and abdomen, settling on the outline of his impressive package in his loose pants. Suddenly, the stress from the day was washed away and replaced by a burning sense of desire.

He felt your eyes on him and knew what you were thinking, he always knew when you wanted him. But instead of saying anything, he adjusted his position and flexed slightly before placing his free hand in his lap precariously close to his groin. You swallowed deeply and licked your lips, taking in the magnificent sight.

Finally he spoke and broke your concentration. “Can I help you?” he asked coyly, an eyebrow raised.

“Actually I think you can,” your voice an open invitation, begging him to just take you then and there. But wasn’t going to give in that easily; he loved teasing you too much. Instead, he played dumb. “Oh? What can I do for you?” false ignorance painted his expression as he looked at you curiously.

You rolled your eyes and whined, not in the mood for games after such a long day, “Kashi!” He simply shrugged and slumped back to continue reading, “Well I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how.”

Annoyed he wouldn’t just give in and fuck you, you crossed your arms and scruched up your face in an adorable pout hoping to break his resolve. He set down his book to shoot you a sympathetic glance and cooed, “Ahh, I see.”

The hand on his lap moved slowly to paw at the bulge in his pants. “Is this what you want?” Teasing bastard. His voice was sweet as he posed the question and continued to play with himself, causing the thin material of his bottoms to strain against it’s growing size. You nodded frantically and he chuckled, enjoying your clear frustration. “Aw, you poor thing.”

He pulled down his waistband releasing his newly formed erection and wrapped his long fingers around the thick shaft. Slowly, he started to pump his hand over his length while he looked you in the eye. Your mouth was basically watering at this point. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!” you cried, giving in.

He laughed lightly and took your chin in his hand to caress it with his thumb. “C’mon baby, take what you want.”

That was all the invitation you needed to pounce him. You took him in your mouth eagerly and he let out a loud sigh as you began working on his cock with your lips and tongue. You placed sloppy kisses all along the shaft and lowered your mouth on him fully, eliciting a low growl from the handsome shinobi. Sucking in your cheeks you began bobbing your head up and down on his manhood. He reached around to grip your ass tightly before pulling your pants down roughly and running two fingers over your already wet folds, causing a muffled gasp to escape your occupied mouth. His fingers found your clit and he swirled them around in focused circles, your head swimming with pleasure at the action. You pushed back against his hand, yearning for more. Understanding your cue he chuckled and plunged inside you, quickly moving to curl his fingers against your g-spot as he used them to fuck you. The feeling was satisfying beyond belief and you lost your concentration, releasing him from your mouth with a loud moan. You attempted to pick up where you left off with your hand, but his expert fingers were too much of a distraction.

Impatient for the real thing, you pulled away from his touch. Only momentarily to reposition yourself so that you were straddling his waist. You leaned forward and captured his lips in a hungry kiss that he reciprocated with passion, tangling his hands in your hair and biting your lip roughly. Without breaking the kiss you lowered yourself down on his groin and began grinding your wet cunt against his length, resisting the temptation to slide him in right then. It was your turn to be a tease now.

He groaned against your mouth and rutted his hips upwards into yours, trying desperately to increase the soft pressure of your warmth against him. You giggled, satisfied with having turned the tables. After a couple minutes of your slow torture he was writhing under you and the aching in your core was becoming unbearable. You finally gave in and lifted yourself slightly to give him permission. He took the chance eagerly, reaching down to position himself at your entrance and moving to thrust into you. You slammed your palms down on his toned chest and pushed him into the mattress to prevent the movement.

“Ah-ah,” you chided, wagging your finger at him. “I’m taking what I want, remember?”

He threw his head back on the pillow regretting his words from earlier, he needed you now.

He looked so beautiful underneath you like this, so desperate for your love. “Please, (y/n)” he begged, his handsome features twisted in desire.

No longer able to resist, you slid down on his hard cock in one fluid motion and let out a satisfied gasp. He filled you up so well. You started moving up and down slowly at first, grinding forward slightly and savouring the way he stretched you out. Each movement sent jolts of electricity through your body and your erotic moans mixed with his heavy breathing filling the silent room. Soon though it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You picked up your pace, beginning to bounce rapidly along his massive length that bottomed out inside you each time you came down on it. He gripped your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises where his fingers met your skin and assisted your movement, bringing you down on him hard each time and admiring the amazing visuals the position provided. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He reached up and cupped your breasts in his large hands, kneading at them with one and using the other to pinch your nipple between his fingers. “You look so fucking good riding me like this.”

His praise increased the pooling desire between your legs and you reached for his face and pulled him towards you, forcing him to sit underneath you. The new pressure of his abdomen against your clit as you continued riding his thick rod sent a wave of euphoria through your body. You bit his shoulder lightly to muffle the sound of your moan and dug your fingernails into his biceps, eliciting a satisfied groan from the man underneath you. He suckled at your neck, leaving light marks that would be gone by the morning occasionally brushing his teeth against the sensitive skin.

Your mind was hazy at this point, basically drunk on pleasure, and he could tell you were getting close. Kakashi thrusted into you deeply once more then fell back on the bed to change the pace. Grasping you by the thighs and lifting you slightly, he began bucking his hips into you wildly. All you could do was take it, knees weak from the immense pressure that was building in your center. “Ahh, Kashi… fuck… feels so good.” You barely got the words out before collapsing on his chest as he continued rutting into you with fervor. The lewd sound of his hips slapping against your wetness filled your ears and with each stroke the angle of his member grazed the sensitive patch within your core, threatening to send you over the edge.

“You gonna cum for me baby?”

You were so far gone all you could do was nod your head sloppily and moan his name. Your incapacitation spurred his arousal even further, stroking his ego and he began thrusting into you with even more vigor than you thought was possible, brushing against your cervix each time with an intensity that bordered on pain. After a few more seconds of his assault on your cunt the growing tension in your center boiled over, and a wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He felt you tighten around him, your juices soaking his hard dick. “That’s it,” he groaned, his voice husky, “cum all over my cock baby, such a good girl.”

He kept bucking his hips, and your orgasm turned from blissful to overstimulating for a moment before he brought you down on his lap one final time. His face bunched up in that sexy face you couldn’t get enough off, his lids scrunched closed right and his lower lip caught in his teeth. He let out a loud grunt and you felt him twitch inside you, filling you with his hot cum.

Out of breath, you lay on his chest recovering from the intensity of your finish while he played with your hair and pulled out of you gently with a satisfied sigh.

“So, you feeling better now?” he asked with a chuckle and quick peck on the forehead.

“Oh yes,” you giggled, “you’re the best stress relief.”

#kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi x reader smut #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi imagines #kakashi oneshot #ebn; fics #x reader #reader insert

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liptonsbabe · 4 years ago

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Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1,

Chapter 2,

Chapter 3,

Chapter 4,

Chapter 5,

Chapter 6

Summary: The Weasley family have traditions about marriage and Bill has to respect them if he truly wants the reader become his wife. In the attempt to respect his family wishes the weasleys have to visit reader’s grandparent Tim Grant who has a lot of things to say

Word count: 5K TOO LONG I’M SO SORRY

Warnings: none(?

A/N: Hey! part 6 of this thing. I’m so sorry to update this late but it was a complicated chapter and the longest so far. I’ll try to make small chapters from now on and the wedding is aproching, you guys!! i’m sooo excited to publish that part but we have to wait a little more for that.

So, as i’ve said in the last chapter, i changed some things from de canon like Bill being attacked by Grayback and such. it’s just for the plot of this series ok? hope you don’t mind guys.

Anyways, like always, english not my mother language so pls let me know if somethings wrong. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Your life is not enough

You needed a couple of weeks to fully recover, even if it meant having Bill on your back every hour and taking you away from your duties with the Order. The mission that Remus Lupin gave you had to wait until further notice, all for William's excessive concern about your wounds

The task of keeping you away was complicated, more so when the Death Eater attacks had gained strength that no one expected. The members of the order spent twenty-four hours a day on watch with no time for breaks, even Bill went three days without sleep until you, still recovering , left the room and dragged him back with you regardless of his constant complaining. Molly supported you in the decision - thank god - telling her son not to worry that the rest of the Order would keep their eyes fully opened and he could rest comfortably next to you

The drastic change in Mrs. Weasley's behavior confused you because there was no reason for it, but the relief helped make your recovery quicker and less painful. The healer who you the morning after the accident with the Death Eaters took too long to close the wound as it was a curse wound and it needed a counter spell to heal properly, but not having one, he used other tactics and Dittany to help it heal. However, the help had come too late, and the scar was a throbbing fact that stung terribly when you made the slightest move. The healer said the burning and discomfort would go away with time, but the redness would stay forever. You thought that would be the last of your problems until you got your first glimpse of the result of the attack.

It was a disastrous thing, but it could have been much worse. You sighed as you looked at your disheveled image in the bathroom mirror. You had just taken a shower and Bill was still dressing in the bedroom. You took off the robe Ginny had given you a night before, watching the scar glisten across the valley of your breasts ending above your ribs. You sighed again, if you didn't consider yourself pretty before, at that moment you felt awful.

A new figure appeared in the reflection accompanied by a bright smile. William wore his white shirt tucked into his pants, his bow tie dangling from his collar and his suspenders placed perfectly flush against his shoulders. You smiled, looking at him through the mirror.

“Getting used to your dazzling new short hair?” You asked as you noticed Bill's nervous hand run over his head for the fifth time after the shower. Bill groaned, burying his face in your neck.

“I hate this style”

“And why did you cut it off, then?”

“Mom made me," he stated, tightening his hands around your waist, "She wants me to make a good impression, and for once I wanted to please her in something”

“Wow, your mom wanting to impress my family? That's new”

“Well, not every day you get to visit Lord Voldemort's brother," you gave him a bad look, smacking his hand, "Too soon for a joke, sorry”

You shook your head, escaping from Bill's embrace putting perfume behind your ear, on your wrists and neck. You gasped when a small drop of perfume touched your wound, reddening it. Your eyes lost in the scar again, knowing that even if your dress managed to cover most of it, the initial edges would be exposed like the body of a worm crawling through your clothes. Bill discovered your discontent. He hugged you again, running his fingertips over your sore skin as he kissed your bare shoulder. Maybe you couldn't see it, but for Bill you were perfect. Not just for the way you looked, but the beautiful heart that, even if he didn't deserve it, you had given him without any qualms. You deserved to be appreciated by the rest of the world, not just by him.

“I love you. You know that, don't you?”

“Even with the scar?”

“With the scar even more. It shows how brave you are and you should be proud of it. You saved Mad-Eye”

“The others will see it”

“It's their problem, not yours. You're still the most beautiful woman in this world.

You smiled, stroking the short hair of the man behind you.

“Not as much as that”

“You're right. I stand corrected. You are the most beautiful woman in both worlds”

“William...”

“I'll help you get dressed," he said, noticing that you were blushing up to your ears. William smiled without understanding why a sweet comment could make you blush, but not the fact that he was looking at you naked from the waist up. He picked up the dress hanging on the dresser reaching over to help it over your head pulling it down gently so as not to hurt you. Then, he zipped up your back leaving a wet kiss on your neck.

Bill's false calm didn't go unnoticed by you. As you smoothed the folds of your dress you noticed the trembling in his hands and the way his feet drummed on the floor. He was playing with the zipper of your dress pulling it up and down, trying to calm his nerves

“Bill, it's not necessary to do this”

“It is!” He replied looking up. You turned to him, crossing your arms around his neck, "I want to respect the traditions, to do things right. I want to show everyone that we mean business. It's just that...”

“My grandfather scares you?”

“What? No” You raised an eyebrow “Okay, maybe a little”

“You don't need to talk to him. He'll understand”

“I want to”

You gave in to Bill's pout. A few days ago, just after he asked you to marry him, Arthur Weasley spoke to his son asking him how he would go about keeping the traditions of the family. Bill didn't seem to understand what he was referring to when his father explained that the Weasleys used to always, always, visit the bride's parents' home right after the engagement to ask for their approval. Offerings were usually brought in a show of respect and the parents in question would respond by offering dinner for the guests. Bill's eyes widened, was that a real tradition?, he didn't know, “why didn't you ever tell me about it!” he questioned his father in a shout. Arthur knew about his son's untimely ignorance, returning the accusation, “Would that have made any difference on your desire to have her as your wife?” Bill didn't have to think too hard. “Of course not!” he shouted and his father laughed, patting him on the shoulder. His son was brave and would have asked for his bride's hand even from Voldemort himself. Bill was lucky tho cause he only had to talk to the old alchemist Tim Grant.

Your grandfather was the only one in the family who seemed to be neutral in the war caused by his brother, but above all he was the person who loved you most as you had both been banished from the Grants for standing up for your own convictions. Maybe Tim wasn’t an active member of either side, however, the blood connection with his brother Tom Riddle sent shivers down the spines of those around him. The man isolated himself in the Galapagos islands dangerously close to a volcano, where he was sure his brother wouldn’t dare to look for him. The Weasleys, hearing the story from your lips didn’t understand why.

You used a portkey to get to your grandfather's house. Arthur had communicated with Tim hours earlier and the two of them managed to establish a connection undetected for the ministry thanks to the old Grant's powerful magic and his skills as an alchemist. You couldn't hide your excitement at seeing your grandfather again, which encouraged Bill's eagerness to formally introduce himself to his next.... grandfather-in-law?

“Well then, but you don't have to worry. Grandpa is a very understanding man”

“Yeah, I'm sure he is”

“Bill Weasley, who knew talking to an old man would make you so nervous?”

“Very funny” he rolled his eyes, gluing his forehead to yours “I just want him to like me, (Y/N)”

“He likes everyone”

“That doesn't make me feel any better.”

“It will when you talk to him and see there's nothing to be afraid of” You stood on your tiptoes cause even with your high heels you couldn't reach his height. You kissed his cheek, snatching a warm smile from him “He's not like the rest of my family”

“I didn't mean to imply that, I'm sorry”

“It's all right, I know you didn't mean it. Now let's go downstairs, your mother must be going crazy”

“As if she wasn't already”

You slapped his arm as you descended the stairs. You didn't want Molly to hear them and relive her recently dissipated discontent with you

The rest of the family were already near the portkey with their arms full of baskets with offerings for your grandpa and the twins carrying some strange ornaments. Bill's sister Ginny greeted you with a smile, handing one of the baskets to her older brother. Molly and Arthur approached their children, both hanging on the opposite arm dressed in their best sunday clothes to make a good impression. You smiled without waiting for Bill's mother to smile back.

After the accident at Little Whinging Molly's rudeness disappeared. Not that she accepted you with open arms, but she stopped making bad comments and avoided looking at you in a bad way. Bill didn't know what Mad-Eye said to his mother that night when he told everyone how you had saved him knowing how much he owed you, but Bill didn't understand the size of the changing till he saw his mother offer you a piece of litchi pie the night after the attack when you were recovering from the wound. It was not that big of a deal really, but it had left you with a permanent smile on your face.

It was Molly herself who had taken the initiative to encourage Bill to fulfill the family tradition. If a Grant was going to come into their home as their son's wife then she should do it the way they knew. Her first piece of advice to her son was cutting his hair to a normal length. Bill was horrified by his mother's words cause he knew she was taking advantage of the moment to make him suffer with his precious mane. He did it anyway, because there wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't do for you

It was a drastic change, but it was worth it. Molly saw your eyes sparkle at the sight of her son so changed, with his hair cut short and his beard shaved. Your fingers danced over his face appreciating the effort Molly, not yet convinced of your influence at home, had made for you. Molly stifled a smile, unaware even to herself, that you were slowly beginning to win her heart.

You touched the shuttle at the same time falling precipitously in the sand and Harry helped you up with a smile. Then you walked straight appearing in front of a huge house that was sheltered by the foothills of the bubbling volcano on the other side of the island. The twins, like the rest of the family, let out an exclamation of astonishment as Ron, harried by the huge spiders hovering in the sand, ran for the door.

The smell of freshly cooked food escaped through the cracks in the door before it was opened. The twins' eyes widened as they recognized the delicious smell of cooked prawns and coconut sauce wafting over their heads. You knocked on the door three times, then stopped and resumed the knocking four more times. The Weasleys watched you, did you have a special code to communicate with each other?

"Come in" You gave way to them closing the door behind you and sealing it with an unknown spell. Bill waited for you at the threshold as his family was already making their way to the table where a very well dressed Tim Grant was waiting for them sitting in the main chair. Bill looked at him from his position, shaking “We still have time to run away” you joked “If you're not ready...”

“I am," he said confidently.

“Okay”

You both walked toward the dining room. Tim was greeting the rest of the family enthusiastically. Bill sighed. At least Tim seemed to get along with his parents, so that was good. They all filled a seat, with Tim occupying the head and Arthur the opposite end; Molly sat on Tim's right side and you sat on Mr. Weasley's right side. The twins, Ron, Harry and Ginny took the middle seats leaving Bill the only vacant spot on Tim's left side. Bill took a breath before taking the seat and receiving a curious look from the man.

“Ah, how wonderful is to have more people to fill the empty spaces! A table this big doesn't serve any purpose unless it's fully occupied, does it? That's what I always say!”

“Don't you usually get many visitors?” asked Molly, breaking the ice. Bill felt sweat trickle down his back. Tim guffawed, patting the back of Molly's hand on the table.

“I’m afraid so. I think that is cause I'm the only one crazy enough to live near an active volcano and my family's fame doesn't help me much either, I'm generally a lonely man. Most of the time it's frustrating, but I can deal with it. You are a big family from i can see, are they all yours, Arthur?”

“Only the redheads," he replied. You recognized in his tone of voice a slight pride “The other one is...”

“Harry Potter” Tim Grant's eyes sparkled with recognition. He looked at Harry with a smile, bowing his head to him in respect. Harry did the same “I know him. He's the guy who's been giving my brother headaches”

Tim's laughter echoed through the house being followed by the twins and you cleared your throat to get his attention. Tim spotted you from across the table waving his hand dismissively.

“Grandpa, please”

“A little joke to lighten the mood, my dear, oh, are these for me?” he questioned, bringing closer the baskets offered by the Weasleys resting on the table. Bill's basket was in front of him waiting to be properly delivered, so he stood up and did as he should. Tim Grant gladly received it, complimenting the selection they had made “What a cute boy, did you see him, dear,? he's gone red!”

You let out a chuckle, nodding at your grandfather's words. Bill's face was flushed as he returned to his spot and looked down at his hands. Tim guffawed again and banged the table.

“I appreciate the gifts, Arthur, I've never been part of a tradition like this before”

“It was important for my son and the rest of us to do it, to introduce ourselves properly”

“Sure! It's what a family with honor does. I'm not surprised. No, not at all. The Weasleys were in the book of the sacred twenty-eight for a long time until they were struck off the list. Tell me, that was quite a blow, wasn't it?”

“Not so much, my family has never cared about that sort of thing”

“Of course! It never did, I could see it up close. Did you know I was friends with your grandmother, Lysandra Yaxley?”

Arthur's eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Really. My family also once belonged to the most important pureblood families until I was born, of course. Lysandra and I became friends because her family also got kicked off the list when Cedrella, your mother, married your father Septimus Weasley. Even your grandfather Arcturus was removed from the Black family tree which was an embarrassment for him being that the ancestral Black family is too proud and such. Anyway, that's part of life, right? Creating new families, bringing people together...”

“Was your family always purebloods?” Fred asked. Tim shook his head

“It was. As I mentioned, before I made my appearance in this world”

“Why?”

Tim was suddenly silent. You scanned your grandfather's face waiting for an answer. Dinner plates flew in from the kitchen and positioned themselves at each guest's place setting while a huge chocolate fountain was set up in the center accompanied by a plate overflowing with assorted fruit. The baskets took a turn and took a place on your grandpa's shelves. Tim sighed, looking at the Weasleys asking to begin dinner.

“I’m the son of a witch, but not of a pure blood wizard”

“Don't you and Lord Voldemort share the same father?”

“Harry...”

”It's all right, Molly, I can answer that” Tim rubbed his chin, thinking “I understand your concern boy, being hide here doesn't make me ignorant to what's going on out there and I know better than anyone what you're going through. You need weapons against my brother and you do well. Tom is a big threat, a very big threat indeed. You're right, Tom and I don't share a father, but that doesn't make him any less my brother.

“I think we're straying from the subject that brought us here” mentioned Arthur feeling a sudden warmth. You supported him, but Tim continued to speak

“I was the son of Merope Gaunt and Aleister Grant. My father was a famous son, grandson and great-grandson of brilliant alchemists, and unsurprisingly he was one himself. Merope Gaunt was... a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a Parselmouth. She had a brother named Morfin and my grandfather was Sorvolo Gaunt. My parents met when the Gaunts had just moved to Little Hangleton after their exile and needed a place to stay. They became the owners of a squalor ridden shack on the edge of town and well, my father was a young alchemist who lived near the Gaunt abode”

You sipped from your wine glass as you listened to your grandfather speak. Never, even with the rest of the family, had he ever struck such a chord as he was doing with the Weasleys. The truth was that you didn't understand why he was telling them all that, however, you weren’t interested in interrupting the story as you knew your grandfather had a purpose with him.

“Those of us who are dedicated to alchemy have never enjoyed an enviable reputation because our transmutation abilities are mostly underestimated by the things that magic in general can produce and it makes a science like alchemy reserved for muggles in their attempt to approach the power that the wizards possess. Personally I think there is something right about that, precisely cause the transmutation in the Muggle world is divided into subjects they taught in schools like chemistry or physics, but alchemy goes beyond that, it’s a connection between the wizard and the spirituality that each one possesses...” the man's gaze was lost in a place at the table, pausing the story. Harry settled back on the seat waiting for him to continue “But it's very difficult to erase the deep-rooted ideas about it, so the best is ignore that and continue doing what we believe is right. Anyway, ah! I got off topic, didn't I? Okay, okay, well my parents ended up meeting and my father fell in love with my mother as fast as my socks get cold at night, but that infatuation wasn’t well regarded by my uncle and even less by my grandfather, of course, for the fame of the alchemists at the time”

“So what happened?” you asked. Tim smiled at you, taking a bite of the rye bread on his plate.

“My mother was treated worse than a house- elf by her father and Morfin, so she decided to run away with my father to France where he had several alchemist friends who could protect them. The Gaunts might have been exiled, but they were still dangerous and to be honest I think my father was terribly afraid of uncle Morfin. They eventually made it to France, but they encountered an infamous muggle who tried to hurt my mother”

Everyone stopped eating to pay attention to Tim as he drank his third glass of wine. You thought that your grandfather wouldn't even be able to stand up by the end of the night.

“He was known as Gilles De Rais. He was a sadistic muggle who tried to become a wizard even though he wasn't born a wizard and used my father to tell him secrets of alchemy. One night they were having a conversation when my father revealed him that there were certain amounts of gold in people's bodies. Gold is a very valuable component, as you already know, so the man's greed didn’t take long to show itself and he questioned my dad how it could be obtained. My father told him that the only way to obtain the gold was by draining the blood and dividing it with a very complicated procedure, however, the gold of an ordinary adult was quite scarce. The real wealth was in the blood of children of no more than ten years old because they possessed a great amount of gold and other components that could be transmuted into riches. The muggle did so, and when he learned that my mother was a real witch, he wanted to know if golden blood ran through her veins, which would make him richer than he already was. My father refused, and decided to leave the place before he hurt us, because they knew she was already pregnant. The muggle went mad and unleashed in him a fury that spread throughout France”

The Weasley twins chorused an astonished murmur as the others moved up to the table so as not to miss a word of the story. You sent a glance at Bill as he hadn't stopped sweating and going over his words all evening.

"They wanted to go back to Little Hangleton but my uncle and grandfather were still in a rage waiting to see them arrive, so my father sent my mother alone while he found another place to stay as he could not expose her to the cold streets of France while on standby, so they had no choice but to leave her with her family avoiding revealing my existence to them. Uncle Morfin didn’t want my mother back, but my grandfather convinced him because they needed someone to take care of the house and their needs. Time passed, my father didn’t come back and I was born in the garden of the house while my mother watered the plants”

“My birth was a surprise to everyone because my mother knew how to hide me well until my father's arrival but, as that didn't happen, I couldn't stand it any longer and made my triumphant appearance on my grandfather's favorite bushes. Uncle Morfin was furious and even tried to get rid of me immediately, but my mother clung to me like a lioness.

“Really?”

“Really," he replied with a broad smile, "I think a part of her was still holding on to my father showing up at some point and getting us out of there, but again that didn't happen. Mom had to endure her brother and father's abuse for me and that's a debt I can never repay”

The whole table fell silent, thinking. Dinner continued as a heavy thunderstorm rumbled overhead, accompanying old Tim Grant's story as if it were yesterday. The man paused to eat and the others did the same with no desire to miss a word. Harry's eyes sparkled in wonder and Mr. Weasley's strong hand on yours helped to soothe your fervent anguish.

“I guess that's what mothers do, isn't it? Anyway, the years passed and I had to live under uncle Morfin's shadow and at the mercy of his growing wrath. When I turned five I started helping the market men with their chores in exchange for a couple of pounds which we had to exchange later for galleons and sickles to survive for two weeks. Mom helped bring money into the house, but it wasn't enough. Then, at seven, the Dream Messengers showed up one night telling me I was required to study at the Uagadou magical college in Africa so I couldn't refuse”

“Wait, Uagadou takes students from the age of seven?”

“Oh I see," the man settled back in his chair, wiping the corners of his lips with a napkin as he stared at Ron, "I forgot that the rest of the magical schools aren't very well known around here, are they? Well, yes, some schools take in very young students as is the case with Uagadou or the Japanese school. It depends a lot on the traditions in each region i guess, because in the African school they select only descendants of alchemists or who have had at least someone in their bloodline whose spirituality helped them to become one. It wasn't all as easy as that, of course, because each student had to pass a test before having a permanent stay, but....

“What kind of test?” Harry questioned when dinner was over and they start dessert. The twins were the first to help themselves a piece of fruit, playing with the chocolate fountain in the center of the table.

“One that only wizards with alchemist ancestry could pass, Mr. Potter. I passed the test so I had no choice but to move to the castle immediately. I didn't want to leave my mother alone, but she convinced me to do it. Going to Uagadou was a great opportunity for me and for her cause it meant I could follow in my father's footsteps” Tim's face suddenly darkened as he pushed away the overflowing plate of fruit Molly offered him. He folded his hands on the table and thought for a long moment. The twins continued to play with the chocolate fountain but a fierce look from their mother made them stop. Then Tim Grant sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the handkerchief on his coat “I regret that decision to this day. I could have gone to Hogwarts like any other wizard, but I suppose my ambition got the better of me. Maybe... if I hadn't left Little Hangleton she never would have met Tom Riddle”

You tensed as you felt the pressure of Mr. Weasley's hand on yours a little too tightly. One glance at the others was enough to understand the dread the name struck their nerves. You even caught a glimpse of the hiss on Molly's lips and saw the sting in Harry's scar. Tim let out a chuckle, taking another drink from his wine glass.

“My brother’s father. I didn't hear from him until a couple of years later, when my mother wrote to me saying that uncle Morfin was in Azkaban and that my grandfather had died. She didn't give me many details, however, she did very vaguely mention the presence of a muggle who was quite striking to her. For better or worse, my mother was already forgetting my father, believing that he had abandoned her or, at worst, that he had dropped dead somewhere in France. I didn't believe the same, but it was logical that she got tired of waiting. I would never have grown tired, at least not having loved the way they did”

Your gaze rolled to meet Bill's eyes as he looked back at you. He smiled at you, causing you to blush. Then you both looked back at your grandpa who was sipping a new glass of wine.

“It was a couple more years before I stopped hearing from my family. Mom never wrote again and with uncle Morfin in Azkaban there was nothing that could be done. When I was eleven i returned to Little Hangleton only to find that my mother had married Tom Riddle, got pregnant and he had thrown her out on the street like a dog. She was left with nothing, unable to return to her father’s old house, and was forced to wander in the streets for months, until one rainy december night she went into labor in the middle of an alley. I helped her as much as I could, dragged her to the door of an orphanage where my mother no longer even had the strength to save the three of us. She had her wand in her hand, but she never used it. She gave up in front of me, the baby was born and asked me to name him after his father. She put him in my arms, the door of the orphanage opened, but mother had already died”

“Grandpa-”

“As you can understand, it's kind of hard for me to remember all that," Tim Grant's reddened eyes closed, choking back tears, "I was just a little kid taking care of a baby and I didn't do my best job of raising him. I was upset with my mother for a long time after she died, but I don't judge her now. After living an almost totally miserable life, my mother had no hope and not enough courage to make her want to keep trying, even for the sake of her newborn son. That decision had a considerably negative impact on Tom's psyche as he was growing up I suppose cause I had to go back to school and I couldn't take him with me, I would have! Of course I would have. I tried, but Tom wasn’t descended from any alchemist and there was nothing I could do about that. I tried, Merlin knows I did. I felt the need to leave him in that orphanage. I visited him whenever I could. For a year I went back and forth from continent to continent to see him, but that wasn't enough for Tom to grow up feeling loved. Orphanage life is hard, dear friends, we shouldn’t judge others too harshly, much less a lonely mother” Tim Grant's irritated eyes were fixed on Harry, reflecting deep pain “She was weakened by her long suffering and she never had Lily Evans’ courage. Everyone sacrifices for those they love in different ways, and my mother did it in her own way”

“Why didn't you ever talk about this?” you asked from across the table. Everyone looked at you “when dad asked you so-”

“Your father didn't need any more reasons to support Tom's follies” Tim shook his head “My brother is a very convincing person not only with his family members but with anyone who gets in the way of his plans. He has a very affiliated serpentine tongue, he inherited the gift of gab from our ancestors and your father grew up under his influence”

“We're very sorry for what you had to go through, Tim, but there's nothing that can be done about you-know-who and all that's left for us to do is to fight him”

“I understand, Arthur, but that doesn't stop me from blame myself. I did what I could, but an eleven-year-old can't take the place of his parents. When I graduated from school and wanted to take care of him Tom was already at Hogwarts and completely disappeared from everyone's eye," he lamented, scrunching his eyelids together, "That was the last time I saw him as the real Tom and not the ghastly grayish mass he is now”

The twins and Ron laughed at the comment and were immediately silenced by their father. Tim scrunched up his eyes, took a breath and let out a laugh looking around the room.

“Well, enough whining, that's not what you guys are here for, is it?” Bill, that had kept silent, denied when the man turned to see him, "What's done is done, and lamenting won't do any good, but I hope that what I've just told you will help you to see Tom's human side if he still has it, which I doubt it very much”

“Thank you, sir”

“You're welcome, Harry, dear, well? What was you wanted to tell me, my boy?”

Tim Grant turned his full body towards Bill, almost climbing up on the table fixing his huge opaque eyes on Bill's. Bill held his gaze noticing that the man was drunk since the beginning of the evening. He looked to you for help, but you were too busy watching Mrs. Weasley's reaction to hearing the reason for your visit.

“Come on, boy, don't be shy”

“I... well, I wanted to-”

“Oh, Arthur, your son is so cute!” he shouted as he squeezed Bill's cheeks. His brothers and Harry laughed and even Molly hid a mischievous smile by putting a piece of apricot in her mouth “Poor frightened boy. But, come on! I'm not going to make it harder for you, I know you're here to ask for my granddaughter's hand in marriage, aren't you?”

“Yes, that's right, sir”

“Well, that's a great gesture of you, but this is a job for (Y/N)’s parents”

“It is, but you understand that under such circumstances we couldn't pay a courtesy visit to the Death Eaters," Arthur interjected with an amused smile.

“Indeed”

“So...”.

“So..." repeated Tim. You sighed, "You love my granddaughter?

“Yes, sir”

“How much?”

“A lot”

“Are you going to protect her, take care of her, and love her?”

“With my life, sir”

“Your life is not enough for me, William” Tim smiled at him, tapping Bill's chin with one of his fingers “My granddaughter is still a Grant, descended from very powerful wizards. My hand will not tremble to revenge the suffering you put her through, am i being clear?”

“Y-yes, sir. Crystal clear”

“Good boy," he replied, patting his cheek. Then he turned to Molly, took her hand and kissed the back of it, giving her a beautiful smile. The woman blushed, but it didn't last long because the man turned to her husband and bowed his head in respect. Arthur pressed your hand on the table and also kissed the back of your hand, making a promise “Well, then. Arthur, your son has my blessing to marry my granddaughter”

Mr. Weasley raised his glass, offering it to Tim.

“Thank you, Tim. We promise to take care for (Y/N) as a member of our family”

“I hope so." The man rested his chin on his hands, watching the huge smile form on your lips and kissing Arthur's cheek. He turned to Molly lightly patting her shoulder offering her a sweet roll which she accepted with a giggle “It's nice to see you accepting my (Y/N) so well” Molly wrinkled her nose “Since who she is and coming from a family as complicated as ours...it was hard for me to believe that someone from the outside could fall in love with her someday. I always knew my little girl was different from everyone” Tim's brown irises clouded over. Molly fell silent “You could put her in a basket of rotten apples and she'd make them blossom, so I'm glad to hear you've taken her in as one of yours. Being a Grant is a very complicated task, i never had a problem with people speaking shit about me, i was never ashamed to be recognized as Lord Voldemort's brother, but my yoke should not fall on my granddaughter” Molly Weasley listened carefully “I have always been a faithful supporter of being judged individually and not by the others actions, that would be like punishing children for their parents mistakes, wouldn't it? That wouldn't be fair and it wouldn't make us any less guilty than my brother, isn't that what he’s doing? Punishing Muggle-born wizards just because they weren't born under Merlin's blessing? I like you, Molly, I know you understand.

A pain in her chest made her look down, embarrassed. But then Tim lifted her chin at just the right moment for her to catch the moment her son rose from his place to walk over to you and lock you in a breath-stealing hug. Arthur was at your side watching you and then his attention focused on his wife giving her a beaming smile, the kind she hadn't seen in a long time. Even the rest of their children had joined in the celebration and Harry rose to congratulate you while you and Bill happily sealed your engagement with a kiss. Tim moved Molly's chin towards him, their gazes colliding.

“Yes," Molly whispered, "I understand.

“Good” Tim let out a laugh, pulling away from Molly to toast. The woman watched you as she smiled thinly ”Then my story was useful somehow”

Tag list:

@purple-vodka-99

@vampirestrawberries

@accio-remus-lupin

@pennyllanne

#bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter cast #Harry Potter imagines #fred weasley imagines #domhnall gleeson #domhnall gleeson x reader #domhnall gleeson imagine #hogwarts

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swxppedshitposts · 3 years ago

Text

couldn’t be fucked w/ tags bc i have false nails on n typing is v hard so i put the dialogue under the cut lol

alex: happy teethster

caroline: for the last time, it’s happy EASTER, we went through this already at christmas!!!!!!

archie: actually that’s kind of impressive lmao I like how u layered the different sizes of the teeth!!

alex: THANK you, archimedes! see, at least someone appreciates my efforts!! open it

caroline: what do you mean open it? oh god, am I gonna open it and there’s spiders inside???

alex: just open it

archie: it it filled with curry?

alex: no but now i’m hungry, CAROLINE WILL YOU JUST OPEN IT PLEASE??

caroline: ......i want archie to open it up for me

archie: okay but if i do, i get to keep what’s inside

caroline: NO!!!!! >:C

archie: okay then you have to open it :) just for the record I have no idea what’s inside lmao

caroline: ...HOW do i even open it? that’s the real question

alex: you have to ask it nicely

caroline: uh huh yeah sure. now how do i REALLY open it?

alex: like i told you. ask it nicely.

caroline: oh god, is this thing haunted?! *she drops it*

alex: >:C HOW DARE YOU TRY TO BREAK A PERFECTLY GOOD TOOTH EGG!!!!

caroline: it didn’t break. i really do have to ask it..?

alex: nicely.

caroline: um...o’ great teeth egg, will u please open for me? ........ it didn’t work

alex: well maybe you didn’t ask it nicely enough. maybe it knows you’re being false with it.

archie: is the egg a metaphor for why u don’t tell her anything lmao

alex: no the egg just wants to be respected! why won’t u respect my egg, caroline?

caroline: ...uh. okay. let me try this again. *places it on the table* i’m so sorry i offended u, egg. will u please open up?

alex: it’s not convinced. i think you’re going to have to beg.

caroline: okay now i’m starting to think this is a joke

alex: is it? you’ll have to try to ever find out

caroline: if i beg to the egg and it doesn’t open, i’m giving up

alex: you better not, what’s inside was expensive

caroline: :) *flips hair* is it designer makeup to make me even prettier?

alex: nope.

caroline: is it a cheque?

alex: try again.

caroline: is it more teeth?

alex: LOL no but that would have been brilliant!!!!

caroline: ...... *places the egg on a pillow* okay teeth egg! i’m really sorry you felt disrespected by me. i hope you and me can have a happy easter together! i love you!

alex: I SAID ASK IT NICELY NOT PROFESS YOUR LOVE FOR IT, OH NOW YOU’VE REALLY DONE IT!!!!!! IT’S BONDED WITH YOU CAROLINE!!!!!!!

caroline: *gasp* WHAT?! OH GOD IS IT GONNA, LIKE, FOLLOW ME AROUND FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE OR SOMETHING?????

alex: no, ur just an idiot, caroline. *takes key out of his pocket and gives it to her* here u go. there was a lock & key the whole time. idiot person.

caroline: .............i hate you. *she feels around and removes some of the teeth to reveal the lock and starts to open it* i actually hate you. i just want you to know that sometimes i - *GASP* you’re finally giving me this????

archie: what is it

caroline: :’) i’ve begged alex to let me have this ring for ages but he said no bc it belonged to one of his old friends..what changed ur mind?

alex: WELL. To cut a long story short, somebody resurrected her corpse and she yelled at me for not letting u have it since u loved it so much. also she’s here, caroline pls meet my old friend, louise

louise: *crawls out from underneath the table* hello caroline! :) *waves*

caroline: i mean..........yeah, tbh that’s what i’d expect from a friend of alexsander’s, ngl.

louise: i am afraid of the people of this generation :) *crawls back underneath the table* drag me out gently by the ankles when dinner’s ready!

archie: did u.......did u meet her at the hospital

alex: NO, why does everybody assume i met all my friends there?? we killed a guy together bc he double crossed us.

archie:

alex: and THEN we got admitted to the same hospital.

archie: LMAO FUCK, ofc you did.

louise: i found a woodlouse under here, can i eat it?

alex: yeah just don’t die choking this time.

archie: oh wow, what did u die choking on?

louise: :( a mouthful of centipedes.

archie: OH

caroline: so is she like...fully alive again now, or just “alive” like a zombie?

alex: caroline it’s really rude to talk about someone while they’re also in the room. why don’t u ask her yourself?

caroline: ...because she’s eating insects while hiding under the table, alexsander.

louise: i’m dead but pretty :) thank u for asking. my ring looks rly pretty on you btw

caroline: awh thanks :)

#also uh take this as the announcement that i have a new oc in the making lmao

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

Note

In A Child Shall Lead Them, how does the whole dissidia adventure go down and what are the reactions when Noct gets back from his impromptu dimension hopping?

Oh GOSH. I’d forgotten all about that somehow.

-It’s a train wreck, but a hilarious one. Noctis wakes up and is suddenly ALONE. Not ANYWHERE familiar with no one in sight. He’s terrified, but trying to put on a brave face, but he’s only ten and when Lightning finds him she takes one look at his big blue eyes and something goes into Mom Mode in her head. Warrior has a very similar reaction (what is Materia THINKING calling a child this young? He’s even younger than Onion Knight!!).

-Everyone loves him and tries to make him safe and comfortable. They debate keeping him in the tower but Materia won’t allow it and besides that would mean leaving him alone here. Warrior and Cecil end up taking him along with the intent of keeping him as FAR from a fight as possible even though he shyly tells them that he does have some training.

-Noctis is still kinda scared and lonely because Where Brothers? Where Gruncle?

-That dude from Warrior’s verse still shows up and insists on picking a fight and he TARGETS Noctis because Bad Guy and Noctis throws his armiger at him but, you know, HE’S TEN. Warrior and Cecil could handle this just fine with a few minor scares but they don’t have to because...

-Is .... is that an earthquake?

-Spoiler alert it is NOT an earthquake it is one Ardyn Lucis Caelum Izunia, summoned by Spiritus and ready to have a rollicking adventure in this strange place until he sensed his BABY NEPHEW’S MAGIC flaring in panic-battle.

-Prepare to be murdered.

-It is not going to be a pretty end.

-So yeah Ardyn comes out of nowhere like Death Incarnate, the scourge leaking all over the place and his armiger tearing up the ground in his fury as he comes within five centimeters of killing the guy who got too close to Noctis. Warrior and Cecil brace for a fight because HOLY COW is this new baddy is terrifying but then Noctis is rushing past them with a relieved shout of “Uncle!” And the nightmare man is picking up the boy and holding him tight with the same expression of every loving parent relieved to find their child safe and well.

-What.

-Ardyn looks up and there is insanity and murder in his eyes until Noctis gently pats Ardyn’s face right over the scourge marks and goes “It’s okay Uncle, you’re gonna make yourself feel sick again. I’m okay cause you’re here. It’ll be okay. Take deep breaths Uncle,” and Warrior and Cecil watch as the man slowly breathes and his face shifts back to something more human and arguably more sane.

-“Noctis,” Ardyn says with false serenity, “I believe it will be time for another lesson soon. How to kill pretender god.”

-And Noctis sighs like this is normal and shifts to pet Ardyn’s hair, “No, Uncle. I’m okay. They just want their world to be healthy too. We’ll figure out a way home.”

-Ardyn sneers but lets the subject go, then eyes the gaping Warrior and Cecil with a deceptively light expression that belies the way his armiger is unfurled from his shoulders like steel wings, “And who, pray tell, are these people, dearest nephew?”

-Noctis introduces them. Ardyn is not impressed. Warrior and Cecil would like to know what is going on pls.

-Ardyn just leers and introduces himself as Ardyn Izunia, the Immortal Accursed, plague bringer and destroyer of-

-And that’s the point when Noctis tugs on his hair and tells him to stop pretending he’s scary. He’s not cursed, he’s just sick and Luna is working on making him better.

-Cue pouting from Ardyn as he props his nephew on his hip and immediately inserts himself onto the team because there is no way he’s letting his nephew go about this place without him.

-All of the champions on both sides are basically stuck in ??????? mode for the duration of the adventure. Because Ardyn is SO CLEARLY the bad guy. He even ADMITS IT. And yet there is Noctis and it is also clear that Ardyn ADORES his nephew more than anything and will gladly burn the world for him (and ah, maybe that’s where the villain part comes from).

-Ardyn is unashamedly crazy and a villain, but he will also happily drop everything to gently fuss over Noctis’s scrapes and bruises and will MURDER anything that breathes wrong in his nephew’s vicinity.

-Noctis explains to anyone who will listen that its not his uncle’s fault, his uncle is sick and the sickness tries to make him think bad things and Luna is helping to make him better, but it takes time because he’s been sick for a while (Ardyn wheezes softly on his laughter in the background because 2k years is a little more than a WHILE Noctis).

-Flirts with Y’shtola. Somehow, Y’shtola finds him charming, if also terrifying because he feels like a fractured WoL or something. She offers to try healing him and somehow he ends up accepting. She can’t fix him, but she makes some headway and ends up with a boneless Ardyn snoozing in her lap and a wide-eyed Noctis gratefully hugging her because apparently his uncle never sleeps unless Ignis yells at him to? Y’shtola absently pets Ardyn’s hair and wishes peace for the poor man. She also mentally wishes luck for this Ignis fellow, because her WoL is hard enough to deal with, let alone this fractured, sick WoL who dances the line between insanity and sanity like a drunk tightrope walker.

-Does not flirt with Lightning, because Ardyn is not That Dumb.

-Takes one look at Onion Knight, Vaan (I think that’s his name? The absent-minded one that travels with Knight and Y’shtola) and Terra and goes “ah. Moar children. Hello children. I am thine crazy uncle now.”

-Straight up sets that clown dude on FIRE. Repeatedly. He has a preternatural sense for when the clown is nearby and will just- turn around and set him on fire mid-sentence then resume like nothing happened. Clown guy learns to stay far, far away and not even LOOK at Noctis for fear of being set on fire again.

-Gets into a rhyming conversation/contest thing with the awesome short woman (Shantoto? I think? The midget woman with the epic fireballs). She is reluctantly impressed, Ardyn is having the time of his LIFE because HELLO fellow snarky scholar.

-Noctis sits out the final battle on Ardyn’s insistence. Ardyn immediately goes Ham on the world eater thing because Nephew Is In Danger. Die.

-Both sides collectively decide that Ardyn is Not One To Be Crossed.

-When they get back, Ignis and Gladio and Prompto are at first furious because they think Ardyn’s kidnapped Noct or something but then Noct tells his story and Ardyn just shrugs helplessly and maybe they wouldn’t believe Noct except he brought PROOF in the form of a pretty magic rock that took recordings like a camera and he recorded some of the champions (”Is that a cat lady?” “She’s nice! Her name is Y- Yish- Yish-tola and she’s a healer!”).

-The trio are now Extremely Paranoid about extra dimensional kidnapping attempts. Ardyn is paranoid about it too, because what if next time he isn’t there???? XDD

#SE asks #faeconstellation asks #Secret Engima Rambles #And A Child Shall Lead Them verse

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kumawrites · 6 years ago

Text

Love Tutorial (NOT CLICKBAIT)

Shinso x fem!Reader

A/N: hi lovelies i’m back with, you guessed it, more shinso!!! this fic is 100% self indulgent bc i absolutely love makeup lol. i’m trying out a bunch of different things in terms of formatting so like tell me if this section looks ugly LMAO. anyways pls enjoy !!

words: 3.8k

summary: You’re a popular Beauty Guru™ and Shinso is primarily a commentary channel. He follows one of your tutorials, only to be surprised by you talking about how fine he is.

—

“That will be all for this video, if you enjoyed it please show some love by clicking on the like button, and if you like me, subscribe! Like always, feel free to tag me if you recreate this look, I love seeing all of your posts! I’ll see you Earthlings later, bye!” With both hands waving and a bright smile, you successfully finished filming your outro that you have possibly said three hundred times.

Before you could even get a word out, Mina was screaming into the phone. “Y/N? OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD. YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS. I’M FREAKING OUT FOR YOU! AHHHH!” You winced, not expecting her to be that loud. Sure, you knew quite well that she could get loud, but that’s because she gets excited. So to be this noisy must mean something big is happening.

“Why, hello to you too Mina. How’s my day going? Good! Thank you for asking. I would ask how yours is going but from the sound of it, I’ll assume pretty good.” You snickered into the phone.

“Well, my dear Y/N, it’s about to be even better than just good!” Mina’s volume was significantly lower, but you could still tell just how excited she was.

“Oh really? What’s going to make my day better than? Wait let me guess, NikkiTutorials resigned and gave up her spot as the most iconic beauty guru and gave it to me?” You snorted. If only.

“No! It’s even better!” The pitch of Mina’s voice kept raising higher and higher.

“Okay, okay, spit it out Mina. You’re really making me curious and I don’t know if I should be worried or not.” You grabbed your glass of water from you table and took a sip. Gross, warm. But it was too much work to get a new glass so you began downing this one.

“SHINSO HITOSHI DID A REACTION VIDEO TO ONE OF YOUR TUTORIALS!” You choked on your water and half of it went down the wrong way. You began coughing and Mina, the little bitch, didn’t say anything while you were dying. You could imagine her just sitting there, waiting for you to respond after your coughing fit.

After getting it all out, you swallowed, eyes still wide. “Mina, you’re not joking right now, are you? Because if you are, I know where you live, and I won’t hesitate, bitch.”

“I’m not! I’m really not! Check his channel, he, like, just uploaded it!”

You grabbed your laptop and opened Google Chrome. “Call me back on FaceTime, rat.” You told Mina before hanging up on her. You typed YouTube into the search bar while Mina called you back. When you answered, you could see that she was also in her filming room.

Mina, like you, is a beauty YouTuber that is well known for her flawless skin, even though she has the simplest skincare routine you have ever seen. Her chipper personality also drew in a ton of fans towards her channel. The two of you had met through YouTube and were soon to find out that you lived in the same city. Your friendship really bloomed then, and you basically live at each other’s houses.

You got onto YouTube, and lo and behold, there it was. Obviously you were subscribed to Shinso’s channel, so the first video of pop up was his. It was titled “i learn how to become beautiful” and his thumbnail was him with his signature “kill me now” face on with some patchy, hot pink, glitter eyeshadow all over his eyelids. But also, you were there! You were in his thumbnail which could only mean one thing: this was real.

“HOLY SHIT MINA, I’M IN HIS THUMBNAIL.”

“I KNOW! NOW WATCH THE VIDEO! I HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET THOUGH SO TURN THE VOLUME UP.” She screeched and you did.

You clicked on the video and there he was, Shinso Hitoshi, looking as good as ever. His tired eyes that screamed “I could die at any given moment” and his messy hair that somehow defied physics. It has to be downright illegal to look that hot. Today he was sporting one of his merch items, a hoodie that had simple print on the front of it saying: I’m Shinso Over This. Of course you owned that very sweatshirt. You would never miss out on a chance to buy his merch.

“Hi. I’m back, unfortunately.” His tone was as dry as it always was. “I was harassed into doing this, go bully Denki on Twitter because this is all his fault. But today I’m going to be making myself beautiful with the help of Y/N. Okay, she’s not actually helping me, but I’m going to watch one of her tutorials.” Your heart pounded as he mentioned you. One of creators that you loved the most is going to follow one of your tutorials. You could die happy now.

“HE SAID YOUR NAME!” Mina shrieked from your phone and you nodded eagerly as you kept your eyes glued to the computer.

“I’m going to choose this one, “EASY Valentines Day Makeup Tutorial + Q&A!” because it says easy.” You watched as your face from the most recent Valentine’s Day popped up. In the intro, you had already filmed the tutorial part and were wearing the full face. It was a fairly easy look, to you at least.

You had done a simple glitter cut-crease, primarily using warm toned reds and pinks with some winged liner and false lashes for your eyes. Your face had some sharper contour and heavy blush that trailed from one cheek to another, using your nose like a bridge. And of course, you had used a super glittery highlighter that reflected with all of your studio lights. You had also used a maroon liquid lip.

“Greetings, Earthlings! It’s me, Y/N, and I’m here to do another tutorial! Today we’re going a Valentines Day themed full face, and I’m also going to be answering some love related questions you asked me on Twitter since it is Valentines Day after all. If you’d like to recreate this look, as always I listed all the products I’m going to use down in the description!” You pointed your fingers downwards. “Without further ado, let’s get started!”

Shinso paused your video and held up a Sephora bag. “I spent so much money on this stuff, and I’m never going to use it again.” He lazily drawled. The fact that he made eye bags hot was insanity. You wanted to cry for him because some of the products you used were unnecessarily expensive.

Shinso unpaused your video and you had begun priming your face. He dug around in the Sephora bag before pulling out the primer you were using. As he squirted some on his fingertips, he made an especially disgusted look as he felt the consistency of it. He watched as you spread it all over your face, and copied you.

“She didn’t lie when they said easy.” He mused. Mina and you both cackled through your phone. Primer was possibly the easiest step ever because it didn’t affect the way you looked whatsoever. “Uhh, okay now she’s putting on, uhhh, foundation?” He grabbed a bottle of foundation out of the bag along with a Beauty Blender. “The people at Sephora said this was my skin colour, so I’ll believe them.” Shinso shrugged and set the bottle down to get the Beauty Blender out of the box.

You began blending the foundation into your skin and Shinso did the same. “Alright! First question from Andrea! ‘Are you dating anyone right now?’ wow Andrea, you sure did get straight to the point. Unfortunately no, I’m not in a relationship right now.” You had finished your foundation and had moved on to concealing your under eyes.

Shinso hummed as he watched as you put a relatively small amount of concealer under your eyes and looked into the camera, somehow making his eye-bags even more prominent. “Look, I don’t know much about makeup, but I know I’m going to need more concealer than that. Also I’m surprised that they’re not dating anyone. She’s too good looking to be single.” So he unscrewed the concealer tube, and absolutely went to town. He put on so much concealer that you were almost concerned.

“Mina did you hear that?” You asked in a breathless tone.

“Sure did.”

You were already in awe that the great Shinso Hitoshi was even watching your video, but the fact that he called you good looking? Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest as you watched with wide eyes. Your biggest YouTube crush had called you attractive. What a good day.

In your tutorial, you had finishing blending the concealer in and was moving onto baking your under eyes. You dipped your Beauty Blender into the loose powder and stamped it down underneath your eyes. “Now I’m going to let that bake, so I’m going to go ahead and do my eyeshadow right now!” Shinso gave a confused look and paused the video. He applied the powder somehow everywhere but under his eyes. It was honestly impressive how bad he was at this.

“I’m baking? What am I baking?” He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly very confused.

“For my eye look, I’m going to start with this light pink shade called, ‘Love’. How fitting. I’m going to swipe that into my crease and I’ll follow that up with this more hot pink that will go all over my lid. Then, I’m going to deepen my crease with this almost maroon shade and then I’ll cut my crease using the concealer we used earlier and this flat brush.” Shinso looked like you had just grown two heads in front of him. He had no idea what you were doing to your face.

You watched as he messily some hot pink shade onto his lid, rapidly blinking the whole time, not used to someone so close to his eye. He was not going to like tight-lining. He eventually attempted to cut the crease and looked absolutely dead when it was completely too much of his lid.

“I want to die.” He muttered while looking at the camera. His eyes had somehow lost even more life than what he began with, which was, not much.

“Here’s another question that’s coming from Kelsey! She asks: ‘Who do you think the hottest YouTuber is? I personally really like Bakugo Katsuki!’ Oh I’d definitely have to say Shinso Hitoshi! That man is illegally fine.” What did you just say? Your eyes went wide as you listened to yourself. You had completely forgotten what questions you answered in this video, and now Shinso Hitoshi knows that you think he’s hot. But you didn’t stop there.

“One hundred percent, anyone could throw down with me on this one. Shinso Hitoshi is the hottest YouTuber out there. He could curb stomp me, kill my family, and rob me of all of my belongings and I’d still say thank you.” Why did you ever say that. Mina was absolutely losing it on her side, unbelieving that those words had even made it past editing on your part. Why would you even keep that in the video. You wanted to die.

Shinso on the other hand looked very amused, letting out a chuckle of his own. “Didn’t know I was so popular. I’m honestly kind of flattered. But I wouldn’t curb stomp her. Can’t mess up that pretty face.” This was the end of your career. You’re never going back online ever again.

The you doing the tutorial had just begun applying loose glitter onto your lid. “So after applying this glitter base, I’m going to pat this glitter in. If you drag it, it’ll get absolutely everywhere since this glitter is super chunky. So, just lightly pat it in like this.” Shinso did as you told and still managed to have glitter cascading down, covering his black hoodie.

You had moved onto eyeliner and he looked like he was actually going to die, right then and there. He watched you tight-line your eyes and didn’t even attempt it. After creating a wing that looked like it could fly off of his face any moment, Shinso attempted to put a pair of false lashes on. Somehow, they were stuck to his eyelid, rather than where his lashes were. He followed you as you brushed the bake off. You were then moving onto contour, where he managed to make it look like he had rolled in dirt. Apparently, he had no idea where to put contour on his face so he ended up putting it far too high.

The step you were on now involved putting copious amounts of blush on when you answered your next question. “Alright and this one is from Jennie! ‘If you could date anyone, who would it be?’ I guess I hinted at this earlier, but Shinso Hitoshi all the way. I just want to like, hold his hand. I know, scandalous. But really, my thirst for that man is actually unquenchable.” You said with a straight face as you took a sip of water and then winked to the camera.

“Hey Mina, when I die in the next few minutes, can you make sure to clear my search history. Actually, just wipe my whole computer clean.” You sighed as you buried your face into your hands. This was awful. Out of all the tutorials you had on your channel, Shinso Hitoshi just had to pick the one where you basically confess your undying love for him. Mina simply laughed, promising absolutely nothing. Traitor.

On the other hand, Shinso was grinning. It was one of those grins. One that you knew would never let you live this down, and he doesn’t even know you personally. “Seems that I’ve got a fan. I’d love to hold hands, Y/N, you just have to let me know.” His voice drawled, deep and raspy. It would be hotter if his face didn’t look like someone shook up a bag of crushed makeup and threw the contents at him. To be honest, he really just looked like a big train wreck. But, it was still hot, nonetheless.

He did eventually finish the look, setting it all using far too much setting spray. But instead of holding his usual stoic, tired look, he looked like he was planning something. The corners of Shinso’s mouth were still turned up in a sly smirk, and you had a feeling that something was going to happen. You might as well die before you find out to save yourself the embarrassment.

“Well, I can’t say I enjoyed putting on the makeup, but I did enjoy watching Y/N talk about me. Y/N, if you’re watching me, send me a message and we can collab. Or maybe hold hands.” His mouth opened up and his killing grin hit you. This is it. This is where you die. You were internally screaming at the top of your lungs. God, you hated how hot he was even though he looked like Boo Boo The Fool.

“DID YOU JUST HEAR WHAT HE SAID?” Mina screamed out loud for you. Oh god, you were absolutely mortified.

“Well, that’ll do it for this one, if you liked watching me ruin my face, I have more awful videos for you to watch. And even if you didn’t, it’s too late because you’ve already given me ad revenue. If I don’t post my next video soon, safely assume that I’ve died. I might see you next time, bye.” Shinso said his usual outro and you slumped back onto your chair. You looked at Mina on your phone who was grinning ear to ear. Oh no.

“Message him.”

“Absolutely not I would rather die, right here, right now than talk to Shinso Hitoshi about how I confessed my undying thirst for him. So, that means I’m going to die. I want a granite headstone.” You groaned as you stared up at the ceiling.

“You don’t even have to say anything about that though! Anyways, you probably should talk to him. You could just say that you enjoyed his video and thank him for what basically was, a free shoutout. I think it’d be wrong if you didn’t message him at all.” Mina suggested, and well, she wasn’t wrong. It’d be rude to just ignore the fact that Shinso has put hard work and money into making this video. The least you could do was say a simple thank you.

You groaned as you sat up, grabbing your phone from where it was leaned against. “God, I hate when you’re right. I’ll message him though. I’m going to go ahead and hang up then because I still have another video I want to shoot.”

“Yes of course! But make sure to send me screenshots, I NEED to know how this goes down! I’ll talk to you later!” And with that, the FaceTime call was ended. Now you had to will yourself into messaging Shinso and making it seem normal. You would just have to completely ignore all of the moments you called him hot, and hope that he doesn’t bring them up too.

You opened up Instagram and searched up his handle. You were really going to do this. It was now or never, and if you backed out and never messaged him, Mina would never let you live it down and would probably end up messaging him herself. So to avoid embarrassment that would be even worse than what has already been done, you had to message him.

“Hi! I saw your latest video and I wanted to say thank you so much for featuring my video! It really means a lot. Also, I hope you bought an oil based makeup remover, because that stuff is hard to get off. Especially the glitter!” That was appropriate and calm, wasn’t it? You hit send and hoped that he would stay on topic and not mention the fact that you completely exposed yourself.

You sat down your phone and groaned. What if he thought that you were really creepy and was just leading you on to eventually public ally humiliate and ruin you, ending your career as you know it? That was probably a bit extreme, and rationally you knew he would never do such a thing, but you were paranoid.

As you were drowning in your sorrows, a notification popped up on your phone. It was him. He replied so fast that you were taken aback.

“hey thanks. i’m glad you’re not mad that i used your video without permission lol. and no, i didn’t buy one bc no one told me to. but i did get the makeup off with a lot of scrubbing. i was serious about wanting to collab. would you want to do that?” Your face was burning at this point. Collabing with Shinso sounding like an actual dream.

“Absolutely! I would love to! And ouch, is your skin okay? Too much exfoliating can really irritate the skin!”

“yes, i’m okay. i didn’t scrub too much skin off. and great. you live in LA right?? i do too. we should work out a date sometime to talk. we could even hold hands if you wanted to lol.” Oh god, he went a did it. You wanted to scream.

“Ahaha, yes let’s do that! And sorry about all of the rambling about uhh, you. It must’ve felt weird.” Should your casket be wood? A polished, dark oak wood sounded nice. You would look lovely in that casket after you died of sheer embarrassment. But would it look fine alongside a granite headstone? Maybe it should be marble.

“not at all. i’m very flattered. but letting you know, don’t expect me to curb stomp you. i don’t think i’m strong enough to do that. but we can definitely go on a date, and maybe your thirst will go away.” This time, you actually did scream, straight into your pillow. This is the end of you.

You screenshotted the conversation so far and sent it to Mina. You did promise to keep her updated.

She responded, not even a minute later, with far too many emojis. The winky face, the side-looking eyes, and of course, the cowboy. Sometimes, just sometimes, you really hated Mina. But not really.

“WTF DO I RESPOND TO THAT HE LITERALLY JUST INSINUATED THAT HE'S GOING TO DO,,,, STUFF.” You hurriedly typed to Mina. You could imagine her right now, cackling as you watched you panic.

“Just call him hot and catch him off guard LOL. Or say like ur thirst can never be quenched.” You were about to do it. There wasn’t anything else that you could think to say to him that was normal sounding, so maybe this would work? Should your flowers be lilies? Or perhaps daisies would work. Something nice to remember you by. You don’t want your death to be too sad.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think my thirst can go away. It’s pretty intense.” You typed something real ballsy out, as you went to hit ‘select all’ to delete it, somehow, you had sent it to him instead. Amazing! You were going to have a stroke!

“oh? well, we’ll have to see about that, huh? anyways, here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx. we can talk about our date later. i have to film another video to make sure people know i’m not dead. talk to you later, doll.”

Ah, the nail in the coffin. You really were dead now. You didn’t even get to plan what you were going to write on your gravestone.

You copied his number and put it into your contacts. Even though you were incredibly embarrassed about all of this, you were definitely going to use that later. Not only to plan a collaboration.

—

my amazing girlfriend does my makeup correctly (ft. Y/N)

#shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #shinso hitoshi x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #reader insert #fem!reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader

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itsakpopalypse · 5 years ago

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Lee Jaeyoon (SF9) Astrology: How He Loves

“Thank You again for the ,,astrology - romantic breakdown with Lou! Can I request another one for SF9′s Jaeyoon, please?”

A/N Absolutely !!! I hope you like it !!! thank you for requesting! 🌸😍🌹🌹

this is cute!! why are all his other gifs so RUDE

let’s get into it

his chart is 3 earth,3 water, 2 fire 2 air

Sun in Leo, Moon In Virgo, Rising (maybe) in Scorpio

this is an interesting balance

because tbh Leo’s are outgoing, charismatic, a bit self absorbed and incredibly confident

But Virgos are meticulous, detail oriented, and diligent

both are pretty pleasant signs

Scorpio are easily misunderstood and “quiet” or mysterious at first

here’s the thing, that will literally just be a first impression, because Leo’s are not those things.

They are ruled by the Sun for a reason, so solar Leo’s are full of life and love and want to better the world around them

Sooooooo when you meet him you might think he is quiet or reserved, he might watch you with sharp eyes

but once he has a read on your sense of humor he will likely open up

expect FIERY FUN

loud and joyful, FLIRTY

okay Leo’s LOVE attention. they love to GIVE it they love to get it

so he is going to hand out compliments constantly

you will probably be REALLY confused, because this is a COMMON Leo trait.

Don’t fall for it. With a Virgo Moon he will be shrewd about who he lets into his emotional spaces

he will only actually pursue you if he has decided you passed those tests

Probably a lot more logical than he seems-almost to a methodical degree, especially with his feelings.

So once you’re close you may not REALLY know if he likes you because he may even be a bit distant for a while as he figures it out

this is normal, let him work through it

his Venus is in Libra... so when he has decided he knows what he wants

I KNOW you’re thinking flirting gets cranked up right??

here’s the thing. Libras are flirty by nature- but that’s like, just part of their charisma.

once they LIKE LIKE someone they basically forget how to person a self call out? maybe👀

He is looking at this point for the person he trusts most and he is like “wait what a flirting and how do I do it.”

queue suddenly awkward bean

probably tries to show off though tbh

like if he can get you to come to HIM then he doesn’t have to figure out how to flirt properly

will talk himself UP

he wants you to compliment him pls he is begging

His mercury is Leo so he is very straightforward

can be really stubborn but LOVES if you ask him for advice and help

might offer it without you asking,

in fact this poor boy will probably think that is flirting

why are Libra venus’s such a mess

anyway once he has all that figured out for himself he probably won’t wait to see if you like him back

all that Leo is like... well duh, why wouldn’t they ?? HAVE you ? Met me?

so he will be very confident and direct in his approach

Leo’s also really love a grand romantic gesture so it’s probably something really sweet but personal to you, since that Virgo moon will D E T A I L D E T A I L D E T A I L until it’s perfect

Once he has you OH MY GOD HE IS HEART EYES EVERYWHERE

Libra is ruled by venus and tends to be even more romantic in this position

so just staring at you like you are the entire sunset and sunrise and just

GUSHING to everyone around him to the point they are SICK of hearing about you

cute dates that are somehow both well planned and spontaneous??

like how???

V E R Y physically affectionate

ah don’t you know his lap is for sits??? 10/10 yes? so sit

gentle romantic affection

suddenly silly affection

nose rubbies and forehead kisses and giggles into your lips

tells you how much he loves you by kissing each one of your fingers and then placing your hand on his cheek with closed eyes

he loves affection tell him tell him tell him

if you compliment him back prepare for FALSE EGO followed by ridiculous giggling

but you have started a war

after that you are going to start doing bigger gestures back and forth that get increasingly more cheesy to show affection

its cute but also gross

one of those couples everyone kinda hates but more often envies

honestly he will be incredibly loyal and devoted, and really excited all the time that you are his how fuckin cute i

SPICEY TIME BELOW 18 + You know the drill

*softly but with feeling,* fuck

okay here listen

Leos are passionate

Virgos are PRECISE and in control

Libras are GIANT TEASES

this combo is deadly

I hope someone prepared a nice eulogy for your lady bits

they are in for IT

So think about this, Libra is teasing, but not super controlling

since this is the venus, one might expect some.. switch energy

okay but how pretty would his whines sound just throwing it out there

👀👀👀👀

Leos’ talk a big game but are actually pretty soft, so I actually see him leaning a bit on the topping from the bottom side

hear me out here

I’m definitely calling big SWITCH energy

he wants to watch every detail of your descent into pleasure

so it will start with slow sensual kisses romantic and sweet

that trail all over and make your knees shake

Libras get off on you getting off on them soooooooo

expect dirty talk to be centered around your pleasure

“You like that?” “Does that feel good?”

“How bad do you want to come for me?”

BODY WORSHIP

tells you how much he loves to see you fall apart

sometimes sex is romantic and slow

he wants to see every detail and memorize it for future reference

very caring and gentle on those times, probably strokes deep and grinds into you until you clench around him,

he’s gonna hiss and warn you not to do that again but he loves it

Probably

Okay, he won’t ask you for it, but

Probably wants you to tie him up

LOVES TO TEAS AND BE TEASED REMEMBER

wants to see everything so if you happen to blindfold him after the tying up.........

good luck he will have revenge

but while he is at your mercy...

pants and moans

cannot catch his breath and cannot keep quiet

will be threatening you about what he is gonna do when he gets out

listen he loves it as much as you do

i hope you did a good job on the restraining

he means it

when he gets out ... good luck?

like flipping a switch it’s daddy time.

yikes even i am shook whaaat

what was that you thought you could get away with it?

nope

I am not okay what is this

He’s a tease too

expect orgasm denial until you are positively weeeeaping

and then when you are allowed, you aren’t going to get to calm down

nope.

expect him to extend that for.. at least 3-4 more orgasms

He warned you

probably will want you to beg and beg and beg, beg to be touched beg to come and beg to stop coming.

aftercare is going to be pretty basic but very sweet

is a huge fricken cuddler

probably grabs your legs and hauls one over his lap and tucks you into that spot between the tiddy and the arm

oooof that’s the good sleepin spot you know the one

giggles like a little as you’re about to drift off and you’re like what....

and he just raises an eyebrow and is like

you should have seen the face you made on number 3.

maybe next time he’ll film it so you can

HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT I HAVE SINNED

hope you enjoyed the FILTH

I have a few more coming within the next day or so !!

#sf9 scenarios #sf9 smut #sf9 #sf9 fanfiction #lee jaeyoon #lee jaeyoon smut #lee jaeyoon scenarios #kpop astrology #astrology asks #kpop astrology asks #hey this was fun but also deadly

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angelosanger · 5 years ago

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get to know: angelo suarez.

Angelo spends the first five years of his life wanting nothing. He gets every thing his heart desires almost immediately, when he finds himself hurt someone is there in seconds to kiss him and remind him he’s special.

That all changes when his parents bring his little brother home. Suddenly, there’s someone else competing for the attention. In the early days of the baby being around, Angelo finds his parents drop everything to run to his brother’s side. He can’t begin to count the amount of times he’s been in the middle of a sentence, only for his parents to run off when the newborn starts crying. Suddenly, there’s less time to play with Angelo, and he’s lucky if someone even shows up at night to make sure he goes to bed on time. It’s not his parents fault, truly. He knows now that anyone has difficulty adjusting to the schedule of a newborn, and they never meant to push him out. But knowing something now is not the same as knowing it then. Naturally, Angelo is jealous.

He expresses his jealousy one day when his dad asks him to share his new toy he got on his birthday with his brother. Angelo remember vividly watching his baby brother grab at his truck all while his parents smiled adoringly at the baby. It’s selfish, he’s aware of that now, but in the moment seeing Ricky reach for something else of his makes him seethe. Angelo rips the truck out of his brothers hands and shouts that he doesn’t want to share it. Ricky cries and his parents chastise Angelo on how that isn’t nice. He’s not surprised they’re taking his side, but it only sets him off more. He gets so mad that he throws the toy to the ground, and then, to make matters worse he picks it up and slams down again and again until it’s nothing but brightly colored smashed pieces.

His outburst is unacceptable. Angelo finds himself sitting in a corner for hours. He’d never been in trouble before and his parents didn’t know how to be effective about his discipline. No one told him what exactly about what he did was wrong, and for a few months that becomes their pattern. Angelo getting upset and finding himself in trouble, his parents failing to communicate to him what exactly the issue is. Soon enough, Angelo begins to realize he’s only ever in trouble when he’s unhappy. So...maybe that’s it.

He spends the bulk of his life biting his tongue and ignoring the flinch of his fingers whenever something inconvenient happens to him. Angelo even lets other kids get away with doing things that genuinely upset him. In the face of being left out by his peers he forces a smile. When he gets hurt in playtime because someone pushes him, he forgives blindly. It’s all in the name of avoiding the corner and silence again.

Even as a child he has trouble with being alone with his thoughts. Everything he feels is wrong. That’s the impression he gets from his parents, and he spends the bulk of his life thinking he’s wrong because everyone else in his family seems so perfect and happy. There’s never a frown or a bad word, and Angelo begins to wonder why he can’t be as happy as the false image his parents put out. Surely, something must be wrong with him.

His first real dangerous fit happens when he’s fourteen. He doesn’t really remember what it is, figures now it was something stupid. But he loses it. On his school record there’s a report of him yelling at another student before punching him right in the face. The fight escalates too quickly and it ends with Angelo throwing a chair at the other kid. He misses, thank God, but still….he threw a chair at someone. It’s safe to say he was suspended.

His permanent record is littered with incident after incident. Until, eventually, he gets kicked out of school.

Angelo’s outbursts aren’t entirely unreasonable. He doesn’t just get mad that a store sold out of orange juice and flips out (ok, but he is VERY annoyed let’s not pretend). Usually, someone starts with him. His anger is always a response to someone hurting him, and in turn, he makes a scene. His wake up call comes in the form of a grocery store altercation. He accidentally knocks into someone. They both drop all their things from the impact, but Angelo swallows down his annoyance and offers to help clean it up. The stranger responds with attitude and snarky comments, even going as far as to call Angelo an idiot. It sets him off almost immediately.

Don’t call him dumb, please God. He’s been called stupid almost his entire life by his classmates and even jokingly by some people he’d considered friends. He hates it and it’s the easiest way to find yourself in a fight with Angelo. A fight you’ll most likely lose.

Differences in opinion do not exist when it comes to certain topics. Ok, most topics. Angelo is stubborn and righteous, he digs his feet in and refuses to accept anything other than admittance that you’re wrong.

He’s genuinely not opposed to knocking everything in this bitch down when he’s mad. He’s that one Madea video where she knocks the whole table over.

He starts going to therapy because when he gets his powers he um is a little more dangerous than he’s used to. It’s unexpected. He’s just you know, being him, yelling at some poor stranger about something and he gets so mad that fire shoots from his hands. Luckily, no one got hurt. But everyone around him suddenly looks at him with more fear than he’s ever seen before in his life. Mortified and incredibly sorry, he realizes then that he’s got to do something to get a better hold of this.

Angelo is almost always listening to music. He’s always got an AirPod in, music playing quietly in the background even if he’s in a conversation. He learns that music is a good way to keep him distracted and calm.

He spends years staying away from people and trying his best to isolate himself from everyone but his core friend group. He was so afraid that he’ll hurt someone by accident, and he decides it’s not worth the risk. So, he shuts most people out without so much as an explanation.

Very strong opinions about pizza. I know that’s canon in the film but i’m using my last noodle to say his favorite kind of pizza is buffalo chicken, followed closely by pepperoni. And you know what, he’s right and he should say it.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends that mayhaps he had to cut off while he was trying get better/not hurt anyone with his powers.

maybe some people he’s flipped out on

exes/crushes whatever

y’all know me pls.

#🤬 i beat it like a dead horse; i beat it like a drum. (about.)

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argylemikewheeler · 5 years ago

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so. i had an idea about will and mike as bucky and steve for halloween (in some strange alternate timeline bc comics), then @zombiebowlcut came up with the best idea of those comics not being so fantasy after all...there have been weirder things living in hawkins. despite the show’s title, this is the strangest thing i’ve ever written. pls excuse the word dump (and being four months late):

“Are you sure we should go up?” Mike asked, gripping his pillowcase around his hand. “I don’t really know who lives there. And we’re a bit older than the other kids... Maybe they’ll be upset with us.”

“They live in two streets down, Mike.” Will said, taking another step forward. “They can’t be evil.”

“Uh, you have lived in this town, right?”

“Yes, and we’re probably the most dangerous things in your neighborhood for miles.” Will laughed and grabbed Mike’s hand. “Come on, Super Soldier! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“In my basement, on the couch with you under my arm.” Mike tried to argue with very little heat. He readjusted his homemade shield on his back, teasing Will with a throw.

“One more house and then we’ll go back.” Will promised, starting to drag Mike along. The well-decorated sleeve and glove may have been impressive as a false metal arm, but it couldn’t do much to contribute to moving Mike forward. “Michael, come on.”

“No, don’t use that voice on me.” Mike laughed, yanking on Will’s hand in return.

Will stumbled forward into Mike, trying to catch his fall by pressing his hands against his chest. It was a sure-fire way to get Mike’s arm around his shoulders and lips pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. Will played right into it, and never minded-- but also knew they were out in public. As much as Will said anyone living in Mike’s neighborhood, or anyone adjacent by that means, wasn’t evil, they were definitely not very progressive. At least, that’s what Will had come to understand.

They separated before anyone around them could even spare half a glance. Will grabbed his pillowcase with both hands and led Mike up to the door. They knocked twice, immediately startled by the sound of a dog barking. Mike reached his hand out and braced Will’s back, lifting his eyebrows.

“If you say the people aren’t evil, the dog definitely isn’t.” Mike whispered with a chuckle. His hand splayed across Will’s back, pushing him up but also pulling him a fraction closer. Their shoulders touched and Will couldn’t help but smile.

His smile faded as the door swung open on them, the sound of the turning knob completely unnoticed in their moment.

A tall man, not much older than their parents-- if at all-- stood in the door. The dog they’d heard was now silent, and barely noticeable, standing behind the man. Will tried not to be rude, and forced his eyes to stay on the man’s eyes and not the knotted long sleeve hanging only two inches from his left shoulder. He smiled and let their “trick or treat” hang in the air.

“Hey, sweetheart? You might want to come see this.” The man leaned back and called into the house. “We finally got kids.”

“What? We weren’t even trying this time.” The voice that emerged down the hall was that of another man. Will tried to keep his face still again. That was another man. And the rugged man standing before him just called him sweetheart with the most sincere and soft voice Will had ever heard-- outside of Mike’s. He knew what that meant, but he still didn’t know what to expect.

“I think they have great costumes, what about you?”

The two men stood in the door frame with bright smiles on their faces. One was blond, holding a bowl of candy in one hand while the other went around the waist of the man holding the door. They looked homey and comfortable. They looked happy-- and they were living in Hawkins.

But they also looked... strangely familiar. Separately, Will was sure they’d mean nothing to him-- hell, he’d probably passed them before in the supermarket-- but standing together, there was something itching at Will’s brain. He blinked, pillowcase still closed and by his side, and turned to Mike. He was standing with his mouth wide open, eyes the biggest Will’s ever seen.

Will was embarrassed, thinking it was the shock of seeing another genuinely open couple out in Hawkins, but another sense of embarrassment overtook him.

He looked down at his costume, then over at Mike’s. Oh. Oh no.

“You know, Buck, I think they do look pretty sharp.” Will refused to believe who was speaking. But he knew it. He heard the name. He knew the comics were based on real people-- on a real conspiracy. God, why does every secret go to hide in Hawkins? And why does it always find him?

“They do... I just... I can’t place who this one is.” Buc-- no. They weren’t young twenty-year old soldiers. They were war veterans now, Will thought-- Mr. Barnes pointed at Will lightly. It wasn’t accusatory, but Will still felt himself shrink under it.

“Well, we have Captain Marvel over here.” Mr. Rogers said, motioning to Mike with the candy bowl. “And this has to be Million Dollar Man.”

“No. No. That’s Ironman.” Mr. Barnes said quickly, poking Mr. Roger’s stomach playfully. “That has to be Ironman.”

"You know what, you’re right.” Mr. Rogers nodded slowly. He leaned over and kissed Mr. Barnes’ cheek and Will thought he was going to fall over. He reached over and grabbed Mike’s arm instinctively. Mike was already in the process of reaching over and intercepted his hand halfway.

Then they were stood there, holding hands in front of their costumes’ namesakes. Looking like complete idiots; in love, and probably in the safest place to do so definitely, but complete fucking idiots.

“Not to extend a strange gesture but,” Mr. Rogers peered over their heads at the chattering groups of children down by the street. There were eyes everywhere. “would you boys like to step in for a moment?”

“A-Are you sure?” Mike sounded like the words were choking him. Being polite had never been so difficult.

“If it’s too strange to ask, we understand.”

“Trust me.” Will said with a sigh. “It’s not weird. We’ve uh, we’ve dealt with weirder.”

“Like this?” Mike said under his breath. “El is pretty tame compared to this.”

“I just put some water on for tea.” Mr. Rogers said, motioning over his shoulder.

“You drink tea?” Mike said suddenly, as if that was the most important thing. Will pulled on Mike’s hand, nearly knocking him over.

“Michael!”

“I’m just... surprised is all!” Mike hissed, face going beat red.

“What? Do regular people not drink tea anymore?” Mr. Rogers laughed. “Are we really that outdated?”

“No, that’s you. You’re the one who’s old. I’m surprisingly still ‘with it’, Steve.” Mr. Barnes shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got the cool kids dressing like me. How come I don’t see you around that often?”

“I-I uh, I don’t like in this development. Mike does.” Will said, still squeezing his hand.

“Mike... Wait! Wheeler, right?” Mr. Rogers was hit with realization, but didn’t look very pleased. “Ted, right? That’s your dad?”

“Yeah.” Will could see the horror on his face; if Ted had no problems shouting at his son just outside of church everything he thought about him-- and his plans to go out with Will on God’s day-- then Will could only imagine what he’d tell strangers.

“I’ll offer again-- do you want tea?” This time, the offer felt heavy. It wasn’t about the tea; it was an impromptu shelter thrown over their heads. A chance to take off their disguises on a night all about costumes. They nodded. “Great! Please, come in, Mike and...”

“Will. This is my boyfriend, Will.” Mike had never spoken the word aloud to anyone but their friends. Never to someone over the age of twenty. Will had never heard Mike come out with such ease. He was fearless-- or at least calculating the damage very quickly.

“Nice to meet you, Will.” Mr. Rogers nodded to Will, smiling. He seemed to be just as relieved to meet them as Mike and Will were.

“Come on in, Will. Oh- and don’t mind Tasha, she’s just my service dog. Since I’m with Steve she knows she’s not working so she will bother you to pet her. You can.” Mr. Barnes stepped back and grabbed the dog’s collar carefully. He kept her at a distance as both Mike and Will stepped into the foyer. “She’s really friendly.”

“You have a service dog.” It wasn’t much of a question. “Does she... help?”

"Yeah.” He nodded and his single word seemed to collect more weight the longer he let it sit in the silence. “When I first came back, she was a really big help. If you, uh, if you ever need a dog to sit with, Tasha’s your girl.”

“We should get you a dog, Will.” Mike said offhandedly, placing a hand on his back. “I’m sure your mom would like another one.”

“You think so?” Will asked. He’d never thought anyone considered his weird nightmares worthy of that much help. Maybe he’d have to try.

“Totally.”

“Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’d be happy to talk to your mother. Or whoever.” Mr. Barnes offered, walking forward.

“D-Do you know my mom too?” Will was sure most people in the neighborhood knew his mother. She never let her presence be discovered; she liked to let everyone know as soon as possible who she was and why one should never pushed her around. Will loved his mom-- and his brother-- they always made introductions mildly unnecessary. It even seemed like introducing himself to Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers was redundant.

“Of course we do.” Mr. Rogers stepped quickly around the dining table and waved the boys to the kitchen. “She’s the sweetest. Always helps Buck pack his car when he goes to Melvald’s.”

Mike sat down at the kitchen counter first, holding his am out and waiting for Will to sit beside him. It was something Mike would only do if they were alone together, but for once the audience didn’t seem to feel like other watching eyes. Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes didn’t hover on their closeness; they moved around the kitchen grabbing mugs and bags of tea.

“You know, Will, Hopper would probably like another dog too.” Mike said. “You can’t lose.”

“And if I do, you could definitely beat him up again.”

“I did not beat him up-- I was like, thirteen! He’s like triple my age!”

“Michael, just admit it you did!” He leaned in and whispered. “That’s not very Captain of you...”

“Will, I did not!”

“I’m sorry, did you say you just... beat up a grown man?” Mr. Rogers said with a laugh, turning around. Mr. Barnes chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“He beat up the chief of police.” Will corrected. He never saw it himself, but Lucas was a great storyteller, even years later.

“Oh god.” Mr. Barnes laughed again. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“That’s my boy.” Mr. Rogers said with a proud smile. “You have him on the ropes, huh? Really at your mercy?”

“Definitely.” Mike nodded, rolling his eyes. “I literally fought the law.”

“He really deserves to wear those colors, doesn’t he, Buck?” Mr. Rogers smiled, but it wore differently on his face than one of simple amusement. He looked proud, relieved almost; there was someone else. “Good to know some people in this town have some fight left in them.”

“Left?” Mr. Barnes echoed. “Oh, Steve, I don’t think these kids have even gotten started. They’ve raised some hell but, they’ve only started. You don’t fight a cop as your last offence.”

“That’s true.” Mr. Rogers slid the two mugs toward them. He looked at him, almost studying him-- both of them. “They’re heroes. I can tell.”

“Uh,” Mike reached for the mug impulsively. “I don’t think a whole army of--”

“Oh no.” Mr. Rogers lifted his own mug to his lips. His gaze cut through the tight coil of steam to the both of them. Mike’s arm was still arm Will’s shoulders. “We’re still fighting the same thing. Monsters and bad men are all the same-- it’s just hate changing shape.”

“But,” Will spoke quickly, as if his answer startled him.”I think love changes shape too.”

Mr. Rogers paused, blinking. “I suppose you’re right about that. Think it’s in pretty good shape now, don’t you?”

Will spun his mug around slowly. He leaned into Mike’s side, his mouth crumpling into an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. I like to think so... Can probably take on a whole lot more evil.” Will sighed. He knew it wasn’t a hypothetical.

“Let’s not go looking for trouble, please.” Mike muttered, nudging Will’s side. He refrained from kissing the side of his head. “I don’t want anyone to ruin the best night of the year--”

“Again.”

“--again.”

“Don’t worry. I think we’re fine,” Will said, reaching to tap Mike’s faux-armor. “I think we’re safe.” He paused, looking at Mike like they were back in his basement-- or sitting safe by his bed, but hidden from the door-- all alone. “We’re safe, Mike. I can feel it.”

#i loved writing this #but i never want to see it again no offense at my own words #byeler #zombiebowlcut #you're a genius and i love your mind hope u know #the things i would do and write for you #prompts

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supportforindieauthors · 6 years ago

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Into the Pines by P D Dawson

Mr Harper rested his index finger to his temple as he listened to his client talking about his daily routine. Sebastian had been coming to therapy for three weeks, but Harper knew he hadn't yet got to the heart of his client's problem.

'Listen, these sessions are not cheap,' Harper said while straightening himself in his chair, 'and I like to make sure I give my clients good value for money, but so far all you've told me is how you live your life. What I want to get to is the reason you can't live it the way you want to.'

'I know I've been skirting the issue, haven't I?' Sebastian replied, crouching slightly to a fetal position and gently rocking. 'I don't know what I was thinking really, as I know my story can't be told.'

'All stories can be told, Sebastian, though I grant you, not all can be believed. You have to remember, I'm not here to judge you, I'm here to guide you, and unless you open up, I can't help you.'

Harper's study was cosy with a fake fireplace; giving the impression, they were sitting in a log cabin in the woods when in reality they were in the basement of a building in Baton Rouge. 'No judgement, you say?'

'None at all, Sebastian.'

'Well, I guess that was my hope all along, to tell someone about the unspeakable madness that has plagued me since my early life. I've been stalling because I didn't want you to think of me as mad, but I suppose that's silly really.'

'That's not silly at all. Everyone worries about opening up, but just tell me what it is that brought you here in the first place?'

'Well, there's something that happened to me when I was younger. My parents were both arguing, as usual, on our way home from a holiday. It was dark, and we were travelling down a country road in Louisiana, not too far from home. Holidays were particularly bad with my parents, as they were in each other’s' space more than they liked. I told them I had to pee and that I couldn't wait until we got home. They stopped arguing long enough to listen. My father brought the car to a halt, and then they resumed their argument while I got out. I was an only child, and so carried the weight of my parent's unhappiness alone. The weight felt so heavy that night that it pushed me deep into the woods, and I wondered how long it would be before they'd noticed I had gone for an exorbitantly long whizz.'

Sebastian froze up as if something, in particular, about his story had disturbed him. 'Go on, Sebastian, remember, there's no judgement here.' Harper was intrigued to know more. Most of his patients' stories were trivial to everyone but themselves, but Sebastian seemed to hold a tale of some reverence.

'I thought it was my rebellion and the hatred I felt towards my parents that pushed me into the pines, but now I'm not so sure. I just kept walking and walking, occasionally looking up at the trees and seeing the stars shimmering above. I don't know whether it was the contrast between the darkness at the tops of the trees, but the stars looked particularly lucid and bright that night. I almost felt naked to them, as if I could have reached up and touched them somehow or that they could have touched me. The woods at night is a scary place for anyone, especially for an eleven-year-old kid, but I just kept walking. I felt a kind of satisfaction in knowing that my parents would have something else to think about other than their hatred for each other. Soon I was sure I'd hear them calling out for me, with anxious tremors in their voice, but they never did. What happened, was very different, and very much the source of all the fears I still carry to this day.'

'You can tell me,' Harper begged, feeling Sebastian was losing his nerve again, 'was there some man in the woods, someone that did something bad to you?'

'No, God, nothing like that! What happened was nothing as earthly as all that.'

'I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions; please do continue.'

'Well, even though my parents didn't come after me that night, for reasons I would find out later, I wasn't exactly alone. As I walked through the trees, feeling the soggy earthiness beneath my feet, I could also feel a static charge building up on everything around me. I wondered if there was a storm on the way, but it was the clearest night I can ever remember. I did see flashes shooting across the sky in the darkness, but I assumed it was just shooting stars. What was real was when I reached out and put my hand around the trunk of one of the pine trees. I saw an electrical spark fire into my hands, and it is around this time that my memory becomes a little hazy as to what happened. But what I do remember is a figure standing in the darkness. There was a clearing among the trees, and I could see a swamp and this figure was standing next to it as if it was waiting for me.'

'So, there was a man?'

'No, it wasn't the figure of a man. This figure was very tall, with long limbs and it appeared to have a halo around its outline as if it wasn't of this earth, or not grounded in our reality. My first instinct was to run back to my parents, but my feet had become stuck. All I could do was tremble as this dark figure walked towards me and took my hand. It then proceeded to drag me towards the swamp, which by this time was aglow and seemed to vibrate with ultraviolet light. When I got a chance to look at the figure, I noticed its face was a featureless hollow void of darkness, and as it entered the swamp with me, it morphed into something else, something alien to me, but I can't remember what exactly. All I remember is breathing in the swamp as if it were a thick goo, and thinking to myself, so this is how it all ends. The next thing I remember is waking up in the woods with a sore head and seeing the sun high in the sky beating down on me. My parents had called for the sheriff's help in finding me, but apparently, I had been missing for two days without a trace. To me, it had felt like only seconds had passed between entering the swamp and waking up.'

'I cast no judgement, Sebastian, but I need you to confront reality if you are to get better. What you are explaining to me here is a manifestation of your fears. You were a young boy who feared his parents were going to break up, and so yes; I'm sure you entered the woods in rebellion, but then to deal with that challenging time you have since concocted a fantastical story to supersede your real feelings. Perhaps you fell and hit your head, that would explain your time loss as well as your visions.'

'No,' Sebastian shouted, standing up. 'They took me from the woods that night. They pulled me into the swamp. I remember the coldness seeping into me, and then I felt like I was falling backwards and my body became light. They took me against my will, they poked needles into me, AND THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO ME. I SWEAR.'

'Sebastian, think about what you're saying. I can help you find the real truth of that night, I can, but I can't let you continue with this false memory. It's this memory that is keeping you from moving on with your life.'

Sebastian sat down again and then pulled back his sleeve. He leant over and showed his arm to Harper. Harper wrapped his hand around Sebastian's arm and rubbed his thumb over a mark on his skin that looked like a barcode. 'Is this a tattoo?' He asked.

'No, it's not a tattoo. I've had this ever since that night. A few days ago, I booked in to have it removed, hoping that this would help rid me of my fear.'

'So, what happened, did you bottle it?'

'No, I had it removed, but when I woke up the next day it was back. Even the scars from its removal have gone, see?'

'Impossible!'

'No, it's true, though I can understand your hesitance in believing me.'

'I'm sure you can, but if you don't let me help you, then I suggest we end our session right here. I shall refund you for half of this session, and then I want you to see a psychiatrist as your delusions suggest you need more than just therapy.'

'No, that won't be necessary.'

'Why not? You need help!'

'The aliens got all they needed from me years ago, but when the barcode on my arm came back, I knew they wouldn't leave me alone until I had fulfilled a promise I had made to them on that night in the woods. I have dreamt of nothing else but that promise, every single night for years. They gave me back because they needed me to bring them someone else. Not everyone is influenced to go walking into the woods at night on their own, so they need a little help from their previous subjects.'

'I don't follow you; what are you saying? I do think you need that psychiatrist, and soon. I think you need to be subscribed some medication, for my therapy is limited for those who accept their reality, but need help in understanding it. Your problem is that you cannot seem to separate your dreams from your reality.'

'No, you see, in my first two sessions with you, I was genuinely hoping you could make me better, perhaps even without telling you the truth of that night. But that's impossible. I realise that now. There's only one way you can help me. I've struggled with my conscience, but I'm sure you're the right man for the job. Your ability to debunk the fantastical stories that people tell you will put you in good stead to handle this.'

Harper tried to get to his feet, but Sebastian pushed him back into his chair before pushing a needle into his arm. Harper struggled as the contents of the syringe was emptied into his veins, and the warm light of the room fell to darkness.

Harper awoke, feeling like he was coming out of a heavy night of drinking. His brain felt like it was pushing against his skull, and his sight was blurry. Sensing a presence beside him, he spoke. 'Where am I?'

'All you need to know is that you're in a Louisiana wood, but soon you'll be someplace else.'

Harper instantly recognised Sebastian's voice, and he reached for the car door handle, but he couldn't reach as his wrists were tied together with old rope that was cutting into his sore skin. 'Please let me go. I can get you some help. I promise I can.'

'The only way you can help me is if I let them have you, I know that now.' Sebastian replied.

He had run down the window and was blowing smoke out into the darkness of the Louisiana night. 'It's about twenty years too late, but that won't matter, after all, time doesn't mean the same to them.'

Sebastian almost smoked his cigarette down to the filter, but before it lost its burn, he pushed the tip into the back of Harper's hand. 'Shit, why did you do that?' Harper screamed out in pain.

'I need you lucid for them. You have to be awake when you go through.'

'Go through what?'

'You'll see.'

Sebastian dragged Harper along through the woods. He had dreamt this already, his dreams portending to this very night and the promise forced upon him. The earth was bouncy, the air was cold, and the trees were dense until they came to a clearing. There in the clearing was a swamp. They both saw the thick fog that hung over it like a cloud, but something else was happening too. There was an unexplainable light shining up from its surface, and as Harper recalled the accuracy of Sebastian's tall tales of abduction, it all made sense to him. 'If all that you said is true, then don't do this. I'll help you find someone else instead. We'll look for someone together, someone that deserves it more than me.'

'No, Mr Harper, you're here now, and I can't wait any longer, it has to be tonight, they told me so in a dream. The portal is only open at certain times according to some celestial imbalance that they rely on.'

With that said, a tall, dark figure appeared beside the swamp and Sebastian, knowing Harper could no longer move, let go of him and retreated a little way into the woods where he could watch from a safe vantage point. The alien figure approached Harper and grabbed him by the hand. 'Please no, I believe now, I believe, but don't take me.' Harper yelled. 'I'm a shitty person and an even shittier therapist. You don't want me! My bones are weak and brittle. I'm a poor human subject, you'll see.'

Sebastian turned around as he didn't want to witness Harper's pathetic begging. As he walked away he heard his therapist gurgling through the goo as he was taken down into its spacious confines, a gurgling sound, of which his own had played out like an echo throughout his life. An echo that confirmed the reality most people knew; was only a slither of what was really out there.

Back in his car, he took a cigarette, the last from his pack, and lit it. His hand was trembling at the thought of what he had just done, but he knew it was better they took Harper, better that than taking his wife or one of his children. As he drove away, down through the narrow muddy roads that led back to safety, he felt a tingling on his arm, and a light feeling came over his whole body. He pulled over for a second and turned on the interior light inside the car. The barcode had gone from his arm without a trace, telling him his hanging guilt would be worth it, for they had finally let go of his life, and he hoped, of his dreams too.

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sserpente · 7 years ago

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In a heartbeat (Chapter 20)

A/N: Okay you guys. This is literally the first chapter I wrote for this story, this is how it came into being in the first place. You remember me telling you it will be emotional? Well, you better prepare some tissues.

The next morning felt, if anything, strange. Together with Bruce, the only other mortal around, you would finally leave Norway—and Asgard, Thor, Hela and most importantly, Loki, behind you.

The Thunderer had managed to contact Tony Stark, who today would be sending a private jet to fly you back to New York, where it had all started. You couldn’t wait to meet Karen again, to hug her, tell her you were alright and what had happened to you and sincerely mourn her sister with her.

Loki had announced a feast before your departure, a reason to properly bid you both farewell after everything that had almost killed you. Behind this kind gesture, so you knew, lay the sneaky attempt to allay the people, to restore some peace and repose, yet you were looking forward to it—even if it was the last opportunity to see Loki before you left him forever.

When you woke up and found yourself in your bed instead of the library, your first reaction was it to frown at the ceiling. You had been dreaming last night. Of someone joining you on the comfortable pile of pillows and then gently caressing your cheek… perhaps it was about time to go home.

The thought of it filled your heart with joy, yet the very same time, there was sadness clawing at your heart.

“Good morning. Fell asleep in the library again, (Y/N)?” Bruce started when you stepped outside to meet the others around a bonfire. Thor and Valkyrie were joking around and laughing, the scientist himself was sipping a coffee.

Oh. So he was the one who had carried you to bed. You were about to thank him when suddenly, Loki showed up beside you. Your heart jumped and almost made you flinch. Other than Bruce, however, no one seemed to notice your sudden excitement. The knowing look he shot you had a blush creeping up your cheeks. They were practically burning when Loki’s smooth voice reached your ears.

“The celebrations will start at noon. Stark should arrive shortly after the meal.” He explained. Each and every word sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine, realisation that throughout the last couple of days, you had barely spoken to each other, hitting you hard. For some reason… for some very odd and peculiar reason you all too well knew the heritage of… you were not ready to go.

“Can you believe we’ve survived this?” Bruce shook his head in an unbelieving manner. His restless eyes searched the crowd in the throne room for a familiar face to spot either Loki or Thor but there were only Asgardian citizens among them. They had disappeared shortly after the main course and would likely return for dessert. You had never eaten this much in your life, especially after what they had fed you on Sakaar.

“Not really,” you gave back, lost in thought and shrugging as you did.

“Me neither. Although I can only remember a few weeks of it all, it was… draining.” You nodded in response. “And now here we are, back on Earth and alive. After everything we’ve been through…”

Oh yes. You had all been through a lot. In only one month’s time, you had seen and experienced so many dreadful, terrifying and deadly things it was hard to remember how exactly you had survived it all. What mattered was that you had. After defeating a goddess, fighting a giant wolf and surviving a realm full of fire, smoke and glowing embers, you were still alive—and it was all thanks to Loki, the very man who just now returned with Valkyrie and Thor to stand before his throne to elicit a smile from you and raised his arms to quieten the cheerfully chatting crowd.

“My friends…” He started, standing to raise his arms in the air. Instantly, the whole room silenced, curious as to find out what it was their new king was going to tell them. My friends? Just this once, he didn’t sound as superior and condescending as usual. You frowned. “There is a special occasion for which I invited you all here to feast with me. As you are aware, our two Midgardian guests will be leaving us today and we are to bid them a proper farewell. May they return back home safe and sound.”

The crowd beneath him cheered and while you managed to lift the corners of your mouth to a timid smile once more. Bruce only shifted uncomfortably on his chair.

“However,” Loki continued, pausing to build tension, “There is something else I would like to announce.” He paused once more. Wicked silver tongue. “Being king can be a great burden. A burden that requires a lot of strength, support and dedication and is best shared to properly care for a people. I would like to therefore introduce you to my fiancé and your future queen of Asgard.”

Your blood ran cold.

“The fierce Valkyrie!” A condescending smile was playing on her lips when she joined Loki before the throne, nodding thankfully at all the admiring sounds of agreement and delight she received. “Now then! Let us have dessert!”

Swallowing thickly, you watched how Asgard’s folk blithely returned to their plates after Loki and Valkyrie had made themselves comfortable. Servants hurried over to them to pour refreshing ale into their empty cups and while they served delicious dishes, Asgardian specialties, to all visitors, you quickly got on your feet and stepped back to hide in the shadows of a pillar.

“Excuse me, will you?” You mumbled to Bruce who had already noticed your discomfort. He only gave you a court and compassionate look to indicate he understood and then, you frenziedly bolted the throne room.

It was like someone had driven metal hooks into your heart, twisting and turning them inside of you and ready to painfully draw life from you.

He was going to marry Valkyrie. He was going to marry the woman who had looked at him with utter disgust upon finding out about his true heritage, the one person you hated with a passion for it. Of course though, she was the better choice. Valkyrie was Asgardian. She was powerful, skilled and, as much as you hated to admit it, intelligent. A perfect match for a king like Loki and the perfect woman to gain a people’s trust. He would be happy with her. How could you not have noticed? The last couple of days, he had barely spent any time with you. Valkyrie on the other hand, had been around the whole time, forcing her advice on his ruling. What had changed? How could he forgive her for what names she had called him for being a Frost Giant? Would he overlook it because of the sex? Had they gone back to loveless fucking?

The thought of it stung in your eyes, hot and salty tears worsening your sight. You had no idea where you were headed anyway until suddenly, you found yourself in Loki’s provisory library, its dozens of books luring you into false comfort by enchanting you with the wise words it held. The one place which made you feel close to the God of Mischief again.

You scoffed as you blinked away the tears you were unwilling to shed. There had been too much crying in the last couple of weeks, too much heartache and pain. Was a single person even able to feel all of this in such a short amount of time? Perhaps you were dead and had gone to Valhalla already but then again… your definition of paradise wasn’t Loki wedding Valkyrie.

Taking a deep breath, you chose a book to occupy yourself with, determined to get lost in its story. For just a brief moment, the world was fine again. You were fine, unable to feel the agony clawing at you with sharp and poisonous nails.

“You are not celebrating?”

His smooth voice had you flinch. The book you had grabbed in a desperate attempt to distract yourself almost fell from your weak grasp when you turned your head to face the man of your lovesickness. His attire was as impressive as usual. With every step he took, the green cape flapped behind him like eager waves at the shore of a blue sea. A sea as blue as his eyes that opened the gates to his soul, to the very feelings only you had caught a secret glimpse at. Would Valkyrie see them too? Would she care to heal his wounds and attend to his scars? You sincerely hoped that she would.

“I’ve never been one for celebrating,” you responded, smiling weakly as you did. You managed a shrug before setting the book aside. He was standing only an arm-length from you now. Insecurely, you cleared your throat. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

Loki nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”

Pause. “Why are you here then?” You asked carelessly. Naturally, you were anything but so.

“I have never been one for celebrating, little minx.” He copied with a smirk. A chuckle escaped your lips, scaring away the pain in your heart for a second.

“Touché.”

Pause. Your breath was shaking as you let your gaze drift over the many books in the giant hall, desperate to lock eyes with something other than these blue oceans of his. You couldn’t bare it any longer, not if you wanted to remain calm. It was bad enough your heart was pounding so fast you feared for it to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna miss this library,” you stated, albeit it wasn’t what you actually wanted to say. I’m gonna miss you, you corrected yourself silently.

Loki smiled knowingly. You had grown familiar with this room, after all, learned its secrets and ancient knowledge. It was only a fraction of what he himself had acquired but he knew all too well you were telling the truth. He had missed the library in the palace too during his time in the dungeons.

“When are we leaving?” You asked then.

“Stark will arrive any minute. Once the beast has recovered from all the ale he is drinking right now.” Good old Bruce who was the only one who knew what was really going on inside your tormented mind. Another sigh escaped your lips, followed by Loki’s amused chuckle.

“I think he is trying to outdrink Thor. He’s quite tipsy too already.”

“It takes a lot for Asgardians to get drunk, little minx.”

You were going to miss his playfulness too. The way he liked to tease you just to see that taunting smile on your face.

“What about Frost Giants then?”

The God of Mischief smirked but his expression was blurry. You realised with a start it were your tears. “I have not yet tried.”

“You should. You have a lot to celebrate.”

Suppressing the trembling of your limbs, you took a step towards him and forced a weak smile. Your eyes were shimmering with unshed tears as you placed your hands on his chest and then stood on your toes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek—to at least once feel what it was like if not for the one time his lips had grazed yours.

“Goodbye, Loki.” You said quietly, turning to leave. You never watched his reaction.

As soon as the linen of the tent’s entrance fell back in place, you burst out in tears, your quiet sobbing echoing through the empty and vast landscape of Asgard’s new home.

It was a truly beautiful sight. White clouds, a blue sky, the evergreen bushes and the colourful flowers dancing in the cool wind that whistled through the air… Norway was your new definition of restful peace and Asgard knew to cherish it. No wonder Loki had wanted to be king so desperately. It was treasure.

By now, your tears had dried off. Your reddened cheeks were only moist and your eyes were swollen from all the salt water when Thor appeared behind you. The private jet Stark had sent was impressive—at least, it would be a pleasant journey home.

“What the hell happened to your hair, Point Break?” Tony took off his sunglasses to reveal a shocked expression, his lips slightly parted. “The pirate look suits you though. A little old-fashioned maybe but still, I think I like it. Banner!” He shouted then. Thor smiled and shook his head. So there was another Avenger. What an interesting twist your life had taken. Maybe with this story, you would finally be granted your big breakthrough as a journalist.

It took Tony a while to catch up with the scientist. When he finally turned to you, he winked.

“You must be (Y/N) then. Tony Stark, Iron Man.” He bragged jokingly.

“Hello, Mr Stark.”

“Are you ready to go home? I would be.”

You returned his smile as honestly as you could as you nodded. “Yes. I’m ready.” And it might have been the biggest lie you had ever told.

Following Tony back to the private jet, you were almost a little surprised when you spotted Valkyrie and Loki waiting for you to say goodbye as well.

“I promise to come visit you, big guy.” Thor joked as he pulled Bruce into a hug. The scientist patted his back.

“Anytime. Just try to, you know, not to bring along another revengeful sister.”

The Thunderer laughed. “I shall try to. Farewell, Banner.”

Then, he turned to you. So this is goodbye, a faint voice in your head whispered. This was going to be one of those cheesy farewells where everyone in the movie theatre cried emotional tears. You appreciated it though. You ravished every single second of it. What else was there left to do?

Please, let something get in between.

“I’ll think of you next time there’s a thunderstorm, yes?” You teased, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his broad form. “Goodbye, Thor.”

“Farewell, (Y/N).”

Let something happen, please!

Valkyrie was next. Only reluctantly did she step forward and stretched out her hand for you to take it.

“You know I still don’t like you.” She started, her dark eyes boring into yours. “But I have to admit that I didn’t think you would make it. You have a strong will. You have my respect.”

Loki was watching. The motion of him tilting his chin curiously was barely visible when you huffed. Your voice was eerily calm as you spoke.

“I don’t need your respect, Valkyrie.” You countered coolly. “Be a good queen.”

Now what was there left to say? What was there left to do? Would you be able to embrace him one more time, wish him all the best, knowing that you would never see him again? No, you can’t, your tears whispered as they returned. So you simply bowed slightly before him, seeking out his blue eyes for a very last time.

“My king,” you mused in awe, enjoying how his typical mischievous smirk grew on his soft lips.

So this was it. You were going home. You were going to leave behind the man you had grown to love more than yourself, more than anyone else in all of the nine realms. You were willing to let him live the happy life he deserved after all he had been through, even if he spent it with a woman that wasn’t you.

Turning around, you gave Tony a court nod. The tears were burning in your eyes, worsening your sight and your lower lip was quivering so intensely you feared not to be able to hold back your sobbing much longer. Tony only frowned. Of course—only Bruce knew of your aching troubles.

Please, let something happen, anything, I don’t want to leave!

“(Y/N), wait!”

Your heart skipped a beat. Loki was rushing towards you so fast you failed to blink when he suddenly pulled you in his arms and held you tight against his strong body. Within the fraction of a second, he stole away your composure. Your crying was so loud and heart-breaking the whole of Asgard must have heard and suffered from it.

“Thank you.” He muttered into your ear. He didn’t say anything else and yet you knew he wasn’t just thanking you for helping him keep his betrayal a secret. He was thanking you for everything. For your time, your ear, your shoulder to lean on, for being the friend he had never had and quite simply—for understanding him.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” You choked out, unable to talk properly. Loki nodded.

“I will.”

It was hard to let go of him. Fuck, everything was hard. It was hard to watch him marry a woman you hated, it was hard granting him happiness if it didn’t include you. Was this a test? For if you truly loved Loki, it was now time to let him go? You were determined to do so, even if it tore you apart.

So you stepped away, taking a last glance at the man you had fallen for before allowing Tony to take your hand. Still sobbing, you climbed on board and listened to the engines of the private jet humming to life. It took off after mere seconds.

“We’ll land in New York in about eight hours. Make yourself at home.” Tony announced, unbeknownst of the storm rioting inside you.

Bruce patted your shoulder as you watched Norway getting smaller, with Thor still waving at the metal construction up in the air—you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Loki again.

“Home,” he sighed, inhaling deeply.

“Yeah,” you whispered sadly. “Home.”

A/N: Please don’t kill me. *hides behind Loki*

354 notes · View notes

kokkoro · 7 years ago

Text

you and me (were meant to be) (1/3)

Her name is Clarke and she likes coffee and it takes you half a second to decide you like her.

or the ‘i just met you but there’s this couples contest on campus rn and all my friends are busy and you’re just sitting there reading on the quad, pls the prize is a Technivorm Moccamaster KBT 741 and my coffee machine broke last week and im dying pls i need my coffee’ au

(aka the couples competition au) (on ao3)

If asked you would say you were bribed. Or blackmailed. Something dramatic like that. Except you don’t even like coffee and the last time someone tried to force you to do something you didn’t want to do they ended up with a fist to the face and a bloody nose. What you do like though are pretty blonde girls in loose button-ups and tiny jean shorts and backward snapbacks, so in hindsight there really was no hope for you.

So you say yes, and it's this wobbly cracked thing that stumbles from the tip of your tongue in two pieces that’s only halfway out your mouth by time she’s pulling you to your feet.

“Come on,” she says, urging, her lips halfway to a grin and you’re already lost. “The competition starts in ten and we still haven’t signed up.”

You’re pulled from your spot in front of the library and into the thick of things without warning and she doesn’t let go of your hand in what you assume is a precaution against losing you to the droves of people congregating on the quad. This is what you imagine a stampede to feel like, the cacophony rattling and your breath lodged just below your throat, but you focus on her hand and everything thins. It’s the beginning of October, right when the chill of oncoming autumn is contested only by the sun’s last attempts at summer, but you know it more commonly as homecoming week.

There’s stands with food and drinks and the art students have dragged out displays and people crowd in a manner that makes at least some semblance of sense. Clubs and various organizations shout to be heard above the ruckus of the radio club, vying for the attention of the incoming freshman who wander through the chaos like lost souls in the styx.

You see the queue for the line by the practice field. It’s not long, but the sun’s in your eyes and Clarke turns the hat on her head to block it. She fiddles, lifting and shifting until it rests the way she wants it. It sits a little askew, her blonde hair ruffles and curls.

“Have you done this before?” she says.

You look away only to settle on a burly young man attempting to rip his shirt off, and you turn back to focus on Clarke. That’s also a terrible idea, so you shift to watch the line steadily move forward. “Gotten drafted into a couples competition by a stranger? No, I haven’t.”

“Enjoyed the festivities I mean.” Clarke says, and the small smirk she wears means your attempt at humor went better than planned. “Did I drag you away from something important?”

“Not particularly.” You’d actually be apart of it if you hadn’t been coerced into delegating the task to Anya. She had said you needed a break. Really, you think she just gets off seeing the freshmen's faces when they meet you for the first time and are lulled into a false sense of security. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it amusing in some ways.

“Good.”

The silence picks up, interspersed by the low chatter of the couple in front of you. The girl giggles, tucked into the side of her boyfriend and he bends to whisper something into her ear before pressing his mouth to the side of her head. She swats at him playfully, but her retaliation doesn’t last, her arms wrapping around his torso.

“Why me?” you ask softly and Clarke brows scrunch, confused, so you squeeze her hand and repeat: “Why me? Surely you’d have a better chance with someone else.”

Clarke snorts and looks ahead, standing briefly on her tip-toes to peer around the people in line in front of you, tilting the bill of her hat back. It’s another second before she says, nonchalant, “And be utterly heteronormative? Please. I didn’t spend my high school years struggling with my sexual identity to stop here.” She glances at you and maybe you’re imagining the way her eyes dart to your lips. “Plus all my friends were busy.”

Your heart thuds, a quick one-two beat, and you feel lost. It takes a second to pull yourself back. “What makes you so sure?”

“About what?” Clarke says with a slight smile.

You watch her watch you. “Me.”

“A hunch?” she says, raising her shoulders in an innocent shrug. “Am I right?”

She is. God, she is. Your eyes dart to her lips--to her eyes and the faint flush dusting her cheeks and you swallow before tearing your eyes away, but she lets out a small laugh and you’re right back to where you started.

“You have rainbow pin on your bag,” she points out, her voice soft and unassuming, and you look down despite knowing what you’ll find. You completely forgot you had that. “I figured the odds were in my favor. But if you’re not comfortable with, uh, this… thing, I… No hard feelings, really. You don’t have to do this.”

You move another pace forward, tugging her gently forward with you. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. “I want to.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, a grin slow to form on her lips. She squeezes your hand and you feel it light a fire in you. “Then lets kick some ass.”

You’re still staring at her by the time you make it to the front and the guy behind the table at the sign-in tent can’t keep the wry smile from his mouth. He taps his pen against the plastic fold-out table. “Welcome to the annual Official Unofficial King and Queen Competition. . .ladies,” he says, and Clarke scoffs quietly next to you, her thumb passing restlessly back and forth across your knuckles. “Here to sign up? You’re just in time. Names please.”

“Clarke and Lexa,” Clarke supplies easily, and the guy mmhmms as he scribbles chicken scratch onto a ledger. You catch Clarke eyeing the impressive coffee machine up for grabs, this superfluous monster of a machine that you’d swear could sooner do your taxes than make you a cup of coffee.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke and Lexa,” he says, peeling off two stickers from a roll by his right elbow and holding them out to you. “Stickers where we can see ‘em, alright? You can leave your belongings here is you want and the competition starts in five. All couples should be by the platform on the practice field by the start time, you know the deal. Good luck guys.”

You take yours somewhat awkwardly, stuck to your index finger, unsure of what to do with it until you see Clarke place hers on the sleeve of her button up, patting it down with this small determined look on her face. You place yours on your stomach, over the loose white tee you’re wearing, and then hand over your bag for safe-keeping.

Clarke takes your hand again a second later like it’s already a habit, threading your fingers together and wiggling, and you allow yourself to be led. From what you can see, the practice field is set up accordingly. There appears to be what seems like an obstacle course made out of some of the old football equipment set up at strategic points on the field. Even the few rows of bleachers have already started to fill out with spectators. They’re either friends of the competitors or those with down time during the festivities and looking for a laugh.

You’re not unused to the attention though it’s hard to not find it a tad unnerving. This is nothing short of a spectacle, meant for entertainment and the emotions and thrill competition brings, perhaps at the expense of your pride. You’ve learned from experience not to let it get to you. It makes you impulsive, a little bit reckless, and that’s not something you are. But now, as Clarke leads you up onto the platform and the adrenaline begins to prickle to life under your skin, you let it. You have a feeling you’ll need it.

The group of couples line up in a row and you and Clarke find a spot near the end of the line as one of the last few onto the stage. She sticks close, her arm around your waist and this small determined grin on her face as she scopes out the competition, looking up and down the line appraisingly. Watching her drowns out the noise, the persistent chatter of the other competitors and the far off white noise of the people filling out the stands.

Confidence looks good on her.

She snaps out of it the second someone tests the microphone and the sound blares loudly, her arm tensing around your waist. A few boos and curses issue out from the stands and your host, a tall, bright eyed man with shaggy hair and a slight beard, laughs. He shakes it off, tapping the microphone one more time to make sure it works as intended, before spreading his arms wide.

“Welcome!” his voice booms over the speakers, voice low and powerful, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You can feel the sound in your chest. “To the annual official unofficial Polis U King and Queen Competition!”

The man takes a moment to bask in the noise, scanning the crowd, smiling as random onlookers take notice of the commotion and try to find seats among the madness. “Today, these young lovers will seek to prove their worth in three grueling tasks for the right to become this year’s top couple. So sit back, relax, pick a favorite, they’ll need all the help they can get.”

“Are you ready?” you hear Clarke mutter, just barely over the noise, and you dip your head, angling towards her. You try not to look at her, but she turns to you then and your world seems to crumble, leaving nothing but the sight of her looking back at you.

“I was born for this, Clarke,” you tease, and her lips stretch into the widest grin.

“--first,” the hosts voice cuts through your self induced fog and you look back up and out over the crowd, trying to ignore the way Clarke holds you tighter. “Let us weed out the weak.”

A stagnant pause hangs over the training field

“Contestants!” the man continues, and there’s a certain satisfaction you find in the way a few of the men in line jump at the words that travel over the loudspeaker. “Spread out before you is an obstacle course designed to test your physical limits. Men, and women,” he corrects quickly at the sight of you, “must carry their ladies safely all the way across field to the end. But the catch,” he motions to a helper down on the field and they quickly toss up a brightly colored beach ball, “is that this must as well.”

“You are allowed,” he continues, “to use this ball to knock the other competitors ball out of their hands. You may not tackle, hit, or otherwise hurt your fellow competitors, but besides, be one of the first fifteen couples to cross the finish line and you’re through.”

Clarke pokes you in the side as you and the other competitors are herded off the platform and down onto the field. “How fast can you run?”

“Fast enough,” you say.

“I say we book it. Let the rest fight amongst themselves.”

You fight back a smile as you watch her out of the corner of your eye, taking a knee once you arrive at the starting line. You brace your hands against the grass and Clarke clambers onto your shoulders, her touch light against your back. When she finally settles, hands on your head, you hook your arms around her thighs and try to make sense of the extra weight. “Ready?” you say, tilting your head back and tapping her leg to get her attention. From the look on her face, you have an inkling she might be afraid of heights. “on three, two, one--”

You stand and Clarke’s grip tightens on your hair briefly, fingers tugging a bit at the strands, before the tension relaxes. She gathers her bearings, legs clenched around your shoulders, feet hooked on your sides. Any tighter and the circulation to your arms might cut off, but she takes a moment to center herself.

“I’m good,” she says, a bit too quickly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She holds out her hands and one of the event staff tosses up a blue beachball that she catches just barely. She lets out a slow breath, nodding to herself, and clutches the ball to her chest.

You find your place behind the line, watching the others settle in beside you. Some look lost. This palpable apprehension that seems to take hold in their eyes. They won’t make it twenty feet, you’re sure. The tall dark man with the broad chest and the small firecracker of a woman on his shoulders not ten feet down from you, however, is another story altogether.

Everything drowns away the second the countdown starts over the speakers. You feel kind of stupid, but there’s a pretty girl with her legs around your neck and everything else seems to fall away in comparison. She’s warm. Not to mention probably more embarrassed about this than you. Or at the least that’s what you find yourself hoping the second the countdown reaches zero and you bolt off as fast as you can towards the finish line.

Only to make it two feet before someone comes running at you from the side with a yellow beachball.

You manage a strangled “Clarke,” and she turns.

There’s a split second you take to brace yourself and Clarke is just as fast. She meets the impact head on, leaning in with her weight as you lurch to the side. The resulting impact causes the couple to jerk back and without the necessary balance they topple to the ground.

The crowd roars.

“Motherfucker,” you hear Clarke huff under her breath, and you try and fail to wipe the smirk from your face.

It’s awkward running with someone on your shoulders, you realize. You’re scared she’ll fall off, but if the numbness you’re beginning to feel in your arms is any indication as you step through a rows of tires spread out past the twenty yard-line, you think she’ll be okay.

You hear a chorus of shouts among the cheers from the stands and the slightly unnerving laughter behind you, but you don’t look back, keeping your focus on putting one foot in front of the other. You stumble out of the last tire and Clarke’s free hand is quick to tangle itself into your shirt to keep herself upright. It rubs roughly against your collarbones, and if nothing else it reminds you to breathe.

“Lexa,” she says a little breathlessly, releasing her hold. You feel her shift to glance at the commotion behind you, and you’re not sure if she’s scolding you or warning you as you sprint headlong into a barrage of standing football dummies.

They’re placed close together, which is good for you if a bit ridiculous to think about. Blue, red, yellow, red, blue--they pass in a blur, knocking against your elbows and Clarke’s knees. Somewhere to your left you have a feeling someone is close behind and when you burst through the thick of it you feel a little disorientated. The other couple overtakes you, taking advantage of your sudden stupor, and you know that means the others are not far behind.

You don’t remember the rest. It flies by as you attempt to gain back what you lost, unaware of much besides Clarke urging you on and the finish line not ten yards away. You come in second and you don’t realize you’ve finished until Clarke’s gleeful yelp, too focused on getting back the air you lost in that last made dash. She drops the beachball unceremoniously in favor of wrapping her arms around your neck and it only makes it harder to breathe. The sudden stop in forward momentum and the enthusiasm of Clarke’s excitement however, is all it takes to cause you to trip.

It’s much like crumbling, undignified and maybe a bit embarrassing. You manage to land somewhat on your butt, leaning heavily on your left arm with Clarke draped over your right shoulder and half in your lap. She’s laughing though, this bubbly thing that’s more a snort as she tries to pull herself the rest of the way over your shoulder. To little success. You try to help her and she nearly elbows you in the face.

She rolls off eventually, somersaults onto her back in the grass, her head near your thigh. She’s red in the face, hair wrestled free from the hat that had tumbled off just moments ago, and her chest heaves in gulps of air under her nearly untucked up button-up, but her smile -- god, her smile.

You lean over, blocking out the sun, breath coming in much more manageable intervals and wait for things to settle. Around you, a few more couples come running in and they’re careful to keep clear of the both of you. It’s a hard won break and you’ve earned these few moments of respite.

It’s a moment or two before Clarke finds the wherewithal to move, taking one last deep breath before propping herself up on her forearms. She smiles at you this time, little bits of grass in her hair, and it’s almost as if you’re the only thing that matters to her.

Standing, you brush the dirt from your palms on you jeans, and you pretend you don’t notice the way she watches you. Casually, cautiously. The curiosity in her eyes is hard to mask and you don’t think she cares. You bend to pick up her hat, smacking it against your thigh to dislodge the bits of dirt and grass and when you offer her your hand there’s no hesitance when she takes it.

“Thanks,” she says, finally back on her feet. She’s close and her words are soft and you give back her hat wordlessly. She flexes the bill until she’s satisfied with the feel, and you brush a few blades of grass from the strands of her hair. The grin that captures her lips is slow and soft like honey, and you’re surprised by the way it has you yearning. “What a way to kick things off, am I right?”

“I don’t do things moderately,” you say, tilting your head and taking the time to observe her back.

She looks up at you, amused. “Neither do I.”

Clarke turns the hat around in her hands, fiddling with its weight that she’s so suddenly taken by. You see the decision she makes then though. How it begins with this little nod and the determined set to her lips, and how it ends with her hat on your head.

It’s the moment you realize you want to know what it’s like to kiss her.

You’re herded back towards the other side of the field before you have a chance to really think about those thoughts. That doesn't mean you let go of Clarke’s hand even though the opportunity presents itself. You quite like how she twines her arm with yours and the gentleness she has as her thumb passes over your knuckles, soothing. It’s unconscious, like breathing, and so is the small peck you press to her temple as you wait--offhand and it surprising even you. You pull away, pretending to focus your attention back on the emcee.

The problem with that is, you find you only half pay attention. The announcements are background noise compared to the softness of her touch and you have to wonder if she’s aware of what she’s doing to you. It’s a tragedy then, that Clarke lets go of your hand long before you’re prepared for it and you look at her in mild confusion as she slips her fingers from yours. She gives a small shake of her head, brows knit adorably as if to ask what’s wrong, and you find it’s hard to voice the truth.

You watch as she accepts a blindfold from one of the event staff as he makes his way through the remaining couples and there’s no hesitation as she goes about securing it round her face, blocking her eyes. When she lets go it slips down over her eyes and this low laugh escapes you before you have a chance to reel it back in.

She looks at you disappointingly but lets you position her in front of you as you go about untying the knot she made.

“This is--” you give a generous tug and it holds tight “--quite the feat you’ve managed here, Clarke.”

“It’s tougher than it looks,” she says. You can’t see her eyes, but you can see the smile that curls the ends of her lips.

“I’m sure,” you mutter back, struggling for a few more seconds until the knot gives and you’re able to pull the fabric free.

You keep Clarke close as you reapply the blindfold to her eyes, laying it gently across the bridge of her nose and over her eyes. You secure it with a simple knot, careful to avoid getting the strands of her hair caught in the tangle.

“Everything feel okay?” you ask, running your fingers through her hair a few times to tame the mess you made. She doesn’t bring attention to it and you drop your hands from her hair before they betray you and they drift down to her lower back.

“Fine,” she says, and her head turns towards your voice. “It feels fine.”

You smile and it’s something you’re glad she can’t see. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Your hand near her back stays where it is, too content with the contact as your are. The other however, doesn’t move from your side. It’s a simple thing to forget to mention.

She hums, even though you’re sure she’s rolling her eyes at you from behind the blindfold. “Four.”

“Good guess.” You watch her lips curl into a grin, only vaguely aware of her left hand as it finds the fabric of your loose shirt and holds on. But you are all too aware of the feelings it ignites in you. “But no.”

Clarke huffs, though she looks unbothered by the development, stepping in closer so that she’s just shy of touching you. She smells like too much sun and the warmth it settles in you simmers just below your skin. If Anya could see you now, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Do you trust me?”

Clarke shrugs, leaning forward so that her nose bumps your shoulder. “Sure,” she says, the word muffled by your shirt. “I trust you.”

The noise over the microphone drowns out the words you don’t get to say, and Clarke picks her head up from where it was tucked against you. Her eyebrows furrow, concentrated, and you figure you should do the same.

There’s seven items down by the stage about a hundred feet away and while you and the remaining fourteen couples had rested and prepared, the event staff had taken the time to litter the open space with a new set of obstacles. Still mostly random football equipment (and a couple blow up halloween decorations) it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll have to guide Clarke through it by word alone.

You lead Clarke to the starting line, keeping hold of her hand until the emcee announces the countdown to start. When you let go, she looks a little lost without a tether to you, but there’s no time for reassurances as the air-horn sounds and the chaos erupts once again.

“Clarke--”

She locks on to your voice immediately, sight trained in your general direction. Among the slew of other voices, you wonder how she managed it, but she wastes no time in moving towards you. Her determination is to be admired at the very least.

“Clarke, slow down.”

“Not helping,” Clarke says in return, voice strained and arms outstretched, but she heeds your suggestion. “We don’t have forever, Lexa, where am I supposed to go?”

You take quick stock of your surroundings--the other stumbling couples, the tires and football dummies and random beachballs--and come to a quick conclusion. Just because you can’t lead her through it yourself, doesn’t mean you can’t walk it with her.

You stand in front of her, counting your steps until you can’t move forward anymore, a large blue football dummy blocking the way. “Six steps forward,” you call back to her. “No--no,” and she stops, “--no turning, just forward.”

Clarke huffs, but starts back up immediately, careful to keep in a straight line, and you get out of her way. She stops a bit short of the dummy, but for the most part you’d consider it a success. “Now what?”

“One big sidestep to the right,” you reply, and then you start all over again.

There’s a process to it, an almost rhythm that the two of you settle into as you make your way through the makeshift course piece by piece and Clarke listens intently. Without touch it’s a slow careful pace. By the time your feet away the crowd is a constant stream of shouts and you struggle to be heard over the chorus.

The moment she picks up the stuffed animal by the stage, the first sound of the air-horn blaring out across the practice field, and she tugs down the blindfold to see the evidence in her hands, the realization is slow to come. But when it does, it’s all consuming.

Clarke looks to you with wide disbelieving eyes and then back to the toy in her hand and lets out a little scream. Her body buzzes with energy, high off the feeling, and hurls herself at you, arms cinched around your neck and pulling the air from your lungs.

You stumble a few steps back, your right hand reaching up to stop her hat from falling off your head while the other finds its place around her waist. It keeps the two of you upright in the rush that follows. It doesn’t temper her excitement, however. In fact, it heightens it, and she bounces on the balls of her feel while her hug reaches bone breaking levels. You feel as if you’ve run another mile, but you consider the reward worth it.

“Clarke,” you say, and it's breathy from the air you can’t seem to inhale and she pulls away still holding your hand.

She studies you for a moment before shifting her attention to the field as the other couples snag the remaining items to qualify them for the next round. There’s a fire in her eyes and it burns when she turns back to you. “I think we can win this.”

You exhale and it escapes quietly among the noise, but you watch her and it’s her windswept hair, flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Her breathing comes in long steadying inhales, as if she’s collecting all the courage there deep in her gut. You wonder if that’s how it works; through sheer force of will.

“Does that mean you doubted me before?” you say, teasing, and she tugs the bill of the hat down over your eyes. Warmth floods to your chest and a smirk is quick to steal your lips. You clutch her hand tighter, but when you tilt the bill up again, she’s not looking at you anymore.

It's the moment you feel most lost in her.

You have this odd sense of dread when a small part the field is cleared in front of the platform and the staff hands out blindfolds to the remaining contestants. Clarke offers to tie it for you, slightly smug, and you decline the offer only because having her hands in your hair sounds like the beginning of a disaster. You wait until the last possible minute though, when they’re leading Clarke away and suddenly you find you’d rather be staring at the inside of a black cloth than watching her walk away from you.

It’s a bit dramatic to think, yes, but it feels like the truth.

You don’t quite know what’s going on but you let yourself be led, pliant as someone places you in an indeterminable spot on the field. The wait isn’t long though and you’re thankful. It's hardly a minute later when the microphone crackles and the man’s familiar voice picks up over the speakers.

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen. The ultimate test. The couples must find their way back together. Without sight, without sound. Only touch.” the crowd ohhhs and wolf whistles and you roll your eyes behind the blindfold. “You have five minutes. Good luck.”

The first hand you hold is large, calloused, and the touch lasts no longer than five seconds before the both of you let go and move on. The second is smaller, slender, and it makes you pause. Your mouth opens slightly, but you remember yourself, closing it before anything has a chance to make it out. They hold you too tight and it takes them a moment to realize you’re not holding them back.

The third… The tips of their fingers finds your arm--the point of your elbow, fingers cold and hesitant. they trail down the inside of your forearm and it feels like forever, but when she folds her hand into yours, her thumb brushing softly over your knuckles, you accept it gently.

Something in you flutters, right there in your chest. High and light and it’s a bit like losing the ability to breathe. Like having the wind knocked from your chest, but carefully, and how it fills again, softly. So you step in closer and breathe in, pressing your lips softly to her temple.

She squeezes your hand tighter and that’s the end of that.

(somewhere off in the stands you hear a few people cheer and it’s enough to quirk your lips against her skin)

You don’t know how long you stand there, but it's probably barely minutes, and when you get the okay, you hook a finger around the blindfold and tug it down. Clarke’s eyes are the first thing you see. Blue and a hint of sun. She raises your linked hands into the air, a triumphant gesture, and you can’t help but laugh when the crowd seems to agree.

The both of you, along with the two other couples who passed, are herded up onto the stage once things settle. Clarke tugs you, your linked hands hanging between the two of you, as she bounds up the steps with you in tow. The grin hasn’t left her face since the little show-off down on the field and it only grows under the attention. You’re the first up onto the stage and you move down to make room for the others.

The emcee starts with the couple closest to the steps. You recognize them to be the couple you saw at the beginning. The fire is still very much evident, but there’s a softness in the way the man has his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, her body tucked comfortably into his side, her arm slung low around his hips. He catches you watching, and the knowing smile and quirked brow he shoots back at you makes you feel just a tad self-conscious. But there’s not much to look at besides Clarke, and the time it takes to succumb to that notion you already feel like you’ve proven his point.

So you don’t deny it, idly tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. At least not to yourself.

“And who have we here?”

The suddenness of the words surprises you and you turn your attention to the emcee and the microphone he reaches towards Clarke. There’s not an ounce of hesitation on her face.

“Clarke,” she says, and you can tell she’s enjoying this far too much. “This is Lexa.”

“And how long have you two been together?”

Clarke pulls a little away to look at you, amusement stretched wide across her face, carried in the apple of her cheeks and the grin she tries to fight off and the words just kind of fall out your mouth. “It feels like forever.”

The emcee laughs, nudging you with his elbow. “Is that good or bad?”

“Definitely good,” you reply, still focused on Clarke and that almost awed look she’s giving you.

“Do you think you have what it takes to win?”

You acknowledge him finally. “Yes.” There’s no hesitation in you either.

“What do you think?” he boasts, turning to address the audience. “Who should take home the coveted title?”

A mess of noise surrounds you, rising up, and it’s hard to make out heads or tails of anything. But what you can hear are chants of ‘kiss, kiss, kiss,’ echoing from the stands and its metronome is a steady beat amongst the growing chaos.

Satisfied with the reaction, the emcee turns to you and the other couples, grinning. “Well, you heard the crowd. Who’s first?”

The couple at the opposite end doesn’t wait, the small woman taking hold of her boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and dragging him down. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, smiling against it and pushing back when the surprise wears off and the reaction from the stands is immediate.

There’s whistling and hoots from friends in the stands and a middle finger courtesy of the girl wrapped around her boyfriend, but from what you can discern from the energy, it’s all in good fun.

The second couple, a tall, shy young man and his equally tall girlfriend, share a soft kiss that ends far too quickly for the audience's liking, but the girl laughs, hands cupping the back of her boyfriends head and leaning in again to peck his flushed cheeks with a quick, thankful kiss.

It’s when the noise dies down again that you realize there’s no one left but you.

Before you can comprehend it, Clarke takes you by the hips with such bravado you momentarily lose your train of thought, eyebrows wiggling in an attempt at alleviating the sudden tenseness she must feel in you. There’s a lopsided little tilt to her lips, but she waits for you, the crowd silent and watchful, and if you weren’t sure before, you are now.

You probably love her and the craziness of that thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You cup her cheeks in your hands, and you feel more than hear the soft gasp she takes. You’d swear you could feel it under the tips of your fingers as you lean in, all slow and tortuous, noses touching first. Her breath fans across your mouth, uneven and a little bit nervous. Or perhaps that’s you, because you’re sure it’s her who closes the last few centimeters like she can’t take the thought of waiting a second longer and the cheer that erupts from the crowd is lost somewhere in the mess of your mind.

Maybe, you think. Maybe she’s just as breathless as you.

#clexa #clarke griffin #lexa #this was supposed to be stupid/fun and without stress but then it turned into a project #cc au #its basically all done tho so updates will be on sundays

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