#reach out and talk to it and grovel and beg for forgiveness or another chance or just anything bc I miss it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namedafteraprincess · 2 years

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what the heart wants - final pt.

pairing: Eddie Munson x Kayla Walker (OC)

warnings: grovelling, heartbroken Eddie, alcohol consumption

word count: 4k

part 1 | part 2

Masterlist

For the remainder of the weekend, Eddie barely slept. Hating himself for putting Kayla through what he had, and cursing himself for not trying harder to tell her the truth. As soon as there was a hint of feelings, he should have called it quits. Or at least gave back the money and treated Kayla the way she should have been treated. The way she deserved to be treated. Once he got to know her, he knew that he didn’t really deserve to be with her. He’d tried picking up the phone to call her, but could never bring himself to finish typing in her number.

This was exactly why he never tried in the first place with people. All he ever did was cause people disappointment. The muscles in his chest pulled together and ached as he went over it in his head. Thinking of when he fell so hard for the girl who was supposed to just be a money job. Chrissy was right, as it turned out, she was really good for him. Got him up in the mornings, and made him happy to be at school.

Eddie knew he couldn’t be that for her. All he did was ruin what happiness she did have. He took this intelligent, beautiful girl and hurt her in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine, and that was what he was never going to forgive himself for. Kayla never asked for this. Chrissy should have just talked to Kayla herself, and he should never have gotten involved.

Leaning against his van, Eddie’s eyes scanned the school parking lot. He hadn’t planned on being at the school but he needed to see her. One more time. Maybe she’d let him explain. The lack of sleep made his brain feel fuzzy and he knew he wasn’t thinking as clearly as he should be, but he had to do something. He had to tell her something. If Chrissy had gotten a chance to talk with Kayla that weekend, maybe she would at least hear him out.

The familiar hum of her car caught his attention and suddenly his breath caught in his throat. His palms were sweaty but he tried to wipe them on his dark jeans. It wasn’t the time to be scared. It was time to confess as much as she would let him.

He couldn’t will his feet to move from their spot as he watched her emerge from her car. Dark hair tucked into a ponytail with a black t-shirt that just skimmed the top of her sweatpants. Her eyes flickered over to him, just for a second, and all he could offer her was a half-lopsided smile before she shook her head and started towards the school.

Move you, idiot, he thought to himself as she watched her getting away from him for the second time. Eddie sucked in a deep, shaky breath and forced his feet to move across the pavement toward her.

“Kayla wait, please!” He called, as he caught up to her, jogging around her and coming to halt in front, forcing her to stop as well.

Her hazel eyes pierced into him, as she cocked an eyebrow and chewed on the inside of her cheek, “What’s wrong, Munson? Did you get short changed? Are you going to ask me for coffee so you can get another twenty bucks?” she snipped.

Shaking his head, he tried to reach forward to brush her hair off her cheek, causing her to step back away from him.

“I don’t care about the money. It’s not about the money, I just need you to hear me out, please” he begged, as he retracted his hand and stuffed both of them into his jean pockets.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she shook her head once and walked around him.

Eddie swore he saw her eyes welling up, but he knew that she’d never let anyone actually see her cry. His chest tightened once more as he walked back to his van. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that he wasn’t in class. In fact, it had been a shock that he had been at school every day the previous week. But Eddie knew he was only there for her. To get every moment he could with her.

He drove himself around town for a while, giving Wayne time to fall asleep so he wouldn’t get in shit for not going to school. Eddie already knew what Wayne was going to say. It would start off with a long list of ‘I told you so’, followed by the importance of persevering or something and showing up when people expected him to, and finally something about life giving lemons. It wasn’t exactly the pep talk Eddie needed at this moment.

Since he didn’t want to head back to the trailer quite yet, Eddie drove himself into downtown and walked the streets, doing his best to duck into alleyways or walk with his head down when Hopper’s truck drove through. Not that it would be a surprise to him that Eddie wasn’t in school but it didn’t matter. That was the last interaction he wanted today.

Eddie took the time to squeeze into Kayla’s bookstore. Since she was at school, he knew he could move around and pick up what he needed without making work awkward for her. He’d done enough damage, he wasn’t about to ruin her workplace too. Knowing exactly where he needed to go, Eddie slunk through the shelves to the back where the stationary was displayed on a well-stocked table.

He picked up the soft lavender, leather-bond journal and flipped it over in his hands. It was her favourite color and since he knew her old one only had a few pages left, he hoped this would be a good addition to her collection. Eddie sucked in a deep breath and pulled the extra money he’d been given at the party out of his pocket. It was only right he spent it on something for Kayla. Even if she never spoke to him again.

“All set?” Nancy grinned from behind the counter.

Nodding once, Eddie slid the journal to her and pressed his lips into a thin line.

Nancy breathed out a small laugh as she took the book and scanned it through, “Kayla’s going to love this,” she commented.

“What?” Eddie’s attention snapped back to the girl behind the counter.

“It is for Kayla, isn’t it?” she asked, pulling another nod from Eddie. “She’s going to love it. I saw her looking at this when she worked last week, but she never got it, so it’ll make the perfect ‘I care about you’ gift” Nancy grinned.

Clearing his throat, he ran his hand into the tangled mess of curls, “It’s more of a ‘please forgive me for being a fucking idiot’ kind of gift…” he replied quietly as he passed her a bundle of crumpled bills.

“Ah well,” she passed the plastic bag over to him, and sighed, “I’m sure this will help. I know you two weren’t seeing each other long, but when I tell you I’ve never seen Kayla as happy as she was last week… I - I think she’ll forgive you” Nancy gave him a soft smile

Eddie nodded again, “Thanks, Wheeler… I’m really hoping your right,” returning the soft smile, he made his way back out to his van.

It was sunny out for once, and everyone walking out of the school just looked so deceivingly happy. It almost made Eddie madder at the world, except he knew this time it was his own fault. He glanced over at the poorly-wrapped brown paper package that sat in her spot, with her name roughly scribbled on the front with a small note “your old one was getting full”.

He stayed in his van, watching the school doors, for once praying that Kayla wouldn’t come to spend lunch writing in her car. He needed time to leave his gift for her without her seeing him. The last thing he wanted to do was guilt her into forgiving him, and buying her the new journal had been a plan of his anyway. Although, it was in the back of his mind that the small gift might at least get her to talk to him again at some point.

Once the lunch bell rang and the rest of the students returned to the building, Eddie jumped out of his van and sauntered over to Kayla’s car. As he looked around the parking lot, his ringed fingers gingerly linked under the door handle and tugged, to his surprise pulling the door open. For someone who claimed to hate almost everyone, Kayla clearly trusted more people than she let on if she just left her car unlocked.

“Silly girl,” Eddie chuckled to himself, as he placed the brown package on her passenger seat and closed her car again.

Shaking his head lightly, with a soft smile on his face, he jumped back in his van and drove himself home. Surely Wayne would be asleep by now and he could sneak into his room undetected. It had been a weekend of being unable to focus on anything but how he hurt Kayla, but the band had a show to prep for and Eddie knew he owed his bandmates at least a little concentration.

As he backed himself into the house, he tried his best to close the front door as quietly as he could. It was surprising to him sometimes how deeply Wayne slept with him as a nephew but on days like this, he always counted it as a blessing.

A deep throat clear pulled Eddie from his thoughts as he jumped and spun around.

“You thought I was sleepin’, didn’t you?” Wayne cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest as he moved to join his nephew at the kitchen table.

Eddie let out a deep breath and nodded once, “I was hoping… Why aren’t you?”

“That’s not the conversation you want to have right now,” a small smirk crept onto Wayne’s lips, “why aren’t you at school? Still avoiding talking to that girl?”

Sometimes it annoyed Eddie how well his uncle had figured him out. There were fewer things he could get away with and fewer things he could skate around and avoid. Not that he would admit it out loud but this time it was a skill he was happy about. He didn’t expect Wayne to try and make him feel better, Eddie was fully expected to be called an idiot, but coming from his uncle, he also knew it would be paired with some sort of good advice.

“Kayla… Her name is Kayla,” Eddie finally admitted, chewing on the inside of his cheek and looking down at his hands as he fiddled with his rings, “I screwed up bad, Wayne, and I don’t know how to fix it. I should have worked harder to tell her the truth but once I got to know her, the money didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for her… And now she won't speak to me because the idiot paid me in front of her…”

“You’re more of an idiot than I thought you were,” Wayne chuckled, shaking his head.

“Good talk, that’s just what I needed, thanks,” rolling his eyes, Eddie went to stand from the table, but Wayne grabbed his arm gently.

“Walk me through it, slowly, let’s see if you can figure this out on your own,”

Slowly sitting back down, and letting out a sigh, Eddie launched into the story of everything that happened. Not leaving out any details. Most of the time, there were situations that he liked to leave his uncle in the dark about, only telling him exactly what he needed to know and nothing more. But for this one, he spilled everything. From the moment Chrissy approached him to the moment she walked away with his heart in her hands.

The emptiness in his chest was consuming and clearly clouding his thoughts. What he really wanted was a cigarette but he had gotten rid of his packs for Kayla and couldn’t bring himself to buy more. Eddie tried to convince himself that that was part of why he was feeling the way he was; because he hadn’t had a smoke and the withdrawal wasn’t helping. Deep down he knew that the withdrawal was not just from the lack of nicotine though, it was from her. The withdrawal of her deep citrus scent and her laugh that was more beautiful to him than any song he’d ever heard.

Going through everything again with Wayne did make him feel more like an idiot with each word he said. He could feel the sadness washing over him as he rubbed his hands over his face, attempting to hide the stinging tears that threatened to fall.

“And then… she just walked away,” he shrugged, looking down at his hands, spinning his rings around and not wanting to look up at his uncle.

Wayne cleared his throat, and nodded his head a couple of times, sitting there in the silence of the trailer home. Eddie was getting ready for his uncle to make some sarcastic remark again, or tell him that he was right for thinking that he didn’t deserve a girl like that, but instead, he just felt Wayne’s arm wrap around his shoulders.

“Why do you think she’s angry? You just finished explaining the whole story, or what I hope is the whole story, tell me why you actually think she’s angry,”

“I don’t know! How many times can I say that?”

“Sure you do, you just don’t want to admit it to yourself.”

“Wayne,” Eddie whined, throwing his head back against the bench.

His uncle let out that deep chuckle that annoyed Eddie to no end, “You're a smart kid, Ed, you’ll figure it out.”

“Look she’s just mad. She’s mad because I lied to her, she’s mad because I didn’t tell her about the money, she’s mad because I humiliated her… Oh my god,” Eddie slumped his body forward, hitting his head on the table.

With a soft clap on the back and a shoulder squeeze, Wayne left Eddie slumped over in the kitchen. He sat there for a long time, thinking of how he had made Kayla feel. Of course, she was humiliated. He’d taken her completely out of her comfort zone and then torn everything apart that the two of them had built with each other.

After hearing his uncle leave the trailer, Eddie let out a deep groan and slowly moved over to the phone, picking up the receiver and dialling Kayla’s number, pausing for a second before hitting the last number. She would be home by now, and he had to do this. He owed it to her.

“Hello?” Her gentle voice sang down the line and he instantly felt his breath catch in his throat.

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, and sucked in some air, “Don’t hang up, please sweetheart, I just… I just need you to listen to me, you don’t have to talk and when I’m done you can hang up on me, okay?”

He heard a soft hum from the other end of the receiver and took that as her agreeing.

“I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am for how everything happened. You deserved so much better than that, and I should have told you from the start what was happening. I never meant to humiliate you the way that I did and there’s no excuse. I am so sorry Kay…” His voice trailed off as he finished.

A soft sob from Kayla squeezed his heart as he heard the phone click and just like that she was gone again. He needed to get back to his normal routine of band and the Hellfire Club. The past few days he’d been neglecting his other responsibilities, but his friends deserved better.

Eddie spent the rest of the evening putting the finishing touches on his new song and practising with sweetheart. God, he’d missed her sweet sound out in the open air of the trailer park at night. He sang softly to himself, allowing his voice to surround him and release his feelings.

The next morning he forced himself to go to school, and even went to all his classes. He did his best to concentrate and even passed soft smiles with Chrissy in the hallway. On break, when he was outside leaning against the cold bricks of the school once more, he recognized the strawberry-blonde ponytail as she rounded the corner.

“Hey…” Chrissy hugged her arms around herself and pressed her lips into a line.

Eddie cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, “Hey, this seems familiar, doesn’t it?” he tried to joke.

She let out a soft chuckle and nodded, “If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t really talked to me either. We had a family dinner on Saturday and she wouldn’t even look at me after I explained what we did… I’m sorry Eddie, I didn’t mean for it to happen this way”

“None of us meant for it to happen this way, except the only one who got hurt was Kayla,” He sighed looking up at the sky.

“Just give her some time…” Chrissy smiled at him once more, and patted him on the shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Eddie”

And once again, he was alone with his thoughts. Kayla still plagued his mind and he knew that wouldn’t go away any time soon. He was going to work to become the man she thought he was. Better late than never right? Although, he begged anyone that would listen that she would forgive him one day and he’d be allowed the chance to show her exactly how she deserved to be treated. With all the happiness he could offer her.

Tuesday night. 9 pm. The Hideout. Their usual 5 drunks lined the bar as Corroded Coffin finished up their sound check. Eddie made his normal lame jokes into the microphone to warm up the crowd who were just drunk enough to find him funny as the boys behind him rolled their eyes.

As they were setting up for their first song, the glint of familiar hazel eyes caught Eddie’s attention and suddenly the whole room faded away. The stage light caught her face perfectly, illuminating the small smirk plastered on her lips as her tongue swiped the bottom one.

“Uh, guys, give me a second…” He clapped his drummer on the shoulder as he slid on the wood and climbed off the stage, trying his best not to run over and wrap his entire body around her.

In her arms, she clutched the lavender leather journal he had left for her, running her thumb gently on the fabric. Eddie’s heart was pounding in his chest as his feet slowed and he came to a halt in front of his girl. Not his girl, not anymore.

“Your jokes weren’t that funny, you took advantage of their drunk demeanour to make yourself feel better,” Kayla quipped, biting the inside of her cheek to stop a smile.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders, and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah maybe, but even so, at least they think I’m funny”

She breathed out a soft chuckle and looked down at her white converse, tapping her fingers on the journal in her hands, “Thank you for this by the way,”

Eddie dipped his head so that his chocolate brown eyes caught hers, with a warm smile, “You needed a new one and this one is your favourite colour, I just thought…”

“You just thought you could buy my forgiveness…” She questioned, cocking an eyebrow but keeping her eyes on his.

“I thought it might help..” Eddie admitted, reaching forward and tentatively brushing her dark hair over her shoulder, “Besides I had some extra cash anyway, you know? Some asshole paid me to take out this really great girl”

She was wearing that Metallica cropped tee once more, which caused a blossom of hope to burst deep in his stomach. She was here, standing in front of him and actually talking to him, that had to be a good sign.

"Sounds like your the idiot there," She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and took a small step forward.

Eddie’s breath once more caught in his throat as he watched her, tracing her features with his eyes, "yeah but I screwed it up though"

A smile broke out on her perfectly plump lips as she reached out and brushed her fingers against his hand, "how?"

Linking his fingers with hers, and reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear with his free hand, Eddie closed the gap between them, pulling her flush against his body, "I, um, I fell for her..."

With a soft breathy laugh, Eddie leaned in and pressed his lips cautiously to hers. That familiar explosion of butterflies set off every nerve ending in his body. He knew he missed the way she tasted and he wanted to savour every second of this moment.

Kayla pulled back and caught his eyes once more, a playful smirk plastered on her lips, “Don’t think for one second that you can just buy my forgiveness every time you mess up…”

Eddie shook his head, and tucked her hair behind her ear once more, cupping her face in his hands and attaching their lips again. Their tongues tangled together as the two of them smiled into each other. The room faded away as if nothing else mattered in the world.

The banging of a microphone brought the two of them back to the present and out of the bubble they had built for themselves. Eddie groaned and pulled back, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks and down her neck.

“Stay for the show… please,” he mumbled into her skin, pulling another giggle from her as she nodded her head.

“Fine, but only if you play some good music,” Kayla teased.

Eddie smirked, and kissed her quickly, dragging his fingers down her arm and through her fingers, “For you sweetheart, I’ll play anything you want me to,” he winked.

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princessofcurses · 3 years

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[2] Struggling Sweetly

Part 1

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader & Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader Preface: Part 2. You’re devastated after your darling has cheated on you but an old friend has come to cheer you up. Unfortunately, it's never that easy. content warning: out of character, college AU, infidelity, alcohol, angst, sexy time, size kink, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, blood, depression Word Count: 6.2k If you like it, please leave a like and/or reblog ♡

The next morning, you woke up with your cheek still squished to Satoru's chest and your leg draped over him. He was asleep and lightly snoring. You marveled at him: his soft and fair skin, his silky and messy hair, and oh god his toned body. The way you felt looking at him right now reminded you of the first time you met him and were captivated by him. It was your first year at Jujutsu High and Satoru was a third year. He was assigned to be your mentor and look out for you, the main reason being that the higher-ups had an eye on you, suspicious of your inexplicable strength. You were meeting in the courtyard and your impression as he walked towards you was that he was a giant; he's well over six feet! As you came to face each other, he had to look down to make eye contact with you which made you pout.

"Wow, Y/N! You're like a foot shorter than me."

The choppy laugh he let out annoyed you a bit and you stood there, staring at him in silence.

"Gojo Satoru. I'll be your mentor and guardian from now on!"

He reached out his hand for you to shake. You took his in yours and firmly gripped it, feeling his calluses and thinking this man works hard. His thumb lightly rubbed over the back of your hand and you quickly retracted yours, putting it back to your side, feeling a bit flustered.

"Gojo-san-"

"Call me Senpai."

You rolled your eyes, adding to your unamused expression while he snickered. You called him by the honorific with a bit of a hiss.

"Senpai, I don't need a guardian. I can take care of myself."

He shook his head and leaned forward to be at eye-level with you, putting his hands on your shoulders. A small vein on your forehead popped out from your irritation because of his patronizing behavior but then you caught a glimpse of his eyes above his pitch-black lenses. You had already known of the Six Eyes but they were even more beautiful and intense in person. They held the sparkling ocean, or maybe it's the sky, and thin clouds passed through them. You turned to ice, feeling mesmerized by him and his presence.

"I'm sure you can but it isn't just cursed spirits you need to be wary of. There are sorcerers that don't have good intentions for you too."

Noticing that you were in a bit of a daze, assumedly from his presence, he chuckled and put his arm around you and began walking.

"Well, don't worry. I'll be the best mentor and guardian. Ora. I'll show you around the campus."

That marked the beginning of a crush that lasted 4 1/2 years. It would've been 5 and maybe longer, but six months ago when you started your second year in college and Satoru started his fourth and last year, you met Sukuna who was in his last year as well.

Your reminiscing was cut short when Satoru began to stir, transitioning from dreaming to awakening. A groggy and throaty noise escaped from his mouth when he outstretched his arms and legs. Slowly opening his empyrean eyes, you perked up when his met yours. He smiled and spoke with a deep and sleepy voice that you found erotic.

"Hm? Have you been waiting for me to wake up?"

"No, no. I woke up not too long ago."

You stammered, not wanting him to know you spent the last several minutes ogling him in his sleep. You both sat up and Satoru began looking for his phone.

"What time is it?"

You unlocked your phone and held it up to his face so he could see the time.

"SHIT! 9 AM!? I was supposed to be in Osaka at 8 for a mission. Yaga's going to kill me."

Satoru hopped out of bed and frantically looked for his clothes, tearing the sheets up and looking under the bed. He found them and hurriedly put them on. You spotted his phone on the floor and picked it up to hand it to him.

"What's the mission?"

"Exorcising curses responsible for the many incomplete domains and missing people in the area."

"Sounds like fun! Can I come?"

"Sorry, sweets. I have to go alone since it's a field assignment for class. I'll be back in a few days. Wait for me?"

He gave you a peck on the cheek and patted the top of your head. You looked puzzled, pondering what he meant by 'wait for me' but before you got the chance to ask or even say goodbye, he had warped away.

Does he want me to wait in my room until he gets back? No, that can't be it. Ugh. I don't get it.

You went back under the covers and stared at the ceiling, sighing as you began to feel lonely. You opened up your contacts list on your phone and scrolled through the names, wondering who you should hit up to hang out with. You winced as you slowly passed by Sukuna's name; you pressed on his contact and was about to hit BLOCK but then an incoming call with his name on it took over your screen. The screen became blurry and your heart began to beat against your chest. Not knowing what to do, you waited there until the call went to voicemail but a few seconds after the ringing had stopped, he was calling again.

Don't answer it. There's nothing important he has to say to you.

Your hand holding your phone was shaking and you gave yourself a pep talk to be strong but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to talk to him. If you answered, you hoped he would grovel at your feet and beg you for your forgiveness. But then what would you do? What would you want to happen afterward? You rid your head of the hypothetical situation and blocked his number after his second call went to voicemail. He had left one this time.

"Y/N, I know you don't want to talk to me or see me but I'm begging you, please give me a chance to explain. If you're truly done with me, can't we at least talk so I can get closure? Call me back. I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say he loves you. He had only said it a handful of times when you were still together. You tossed your phone to the other side of the room and brought the covers over your face.

“You love me, but you cheated on me? Why do you need closure, you idiot?”

You huffed in annoyance but then tears were escaping from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed the pillow Satoru used and buried your face in it, holding it to your chest tightly. His lingering scent made you feel a little better but you still sobbed into the pillow until you fell asleep.

The next week, after doing nothing except sleeping and sulking, you decided to go out to the club tonight for a few drinks and music so loud you wouldn't be able to hear your thoughts. You didn't have club attire so you pulled up in black cargo pants, a black tube top, and black platform boots and luckily, it barely made the dress code and the bouncer let you in. As soon as you stepped inside, you felt the stale air from all of the people crowded together. You squished in between some and pushed your way through others to get to the bar. Once you finally made it, you took a seat and ordered a strawberry margarita. Every so often, someone took a seat beside you to try and talk to you but you rebuffed each one with just a wave of your hand without even giving them a glance.

Three margaritas later and you were feeling tipsy, thinking now is a good time for a cigarette. Stepping out of the stuffy club into fresh air, you pulled out a fresh pack and checked your purse and all of your pockets for a lighter, sighing when you didn't have one. You timidly began to ask the people around you but were out of luck because they either didn't have one or they wanted something in return for it. Unsuccessful in your pursuit, you took a seat at one of the tables with your unlit cigarette between your lips. You sighed, your elbow on the table and your hand supporting your head up, using your other one to scroll through your phone.

"Do you need a light?"

You stiffened knowing whose voice it was and you slowly turned your head up to see Sukuna standing before you, a smile with a hint of mal intent on his face. Shaken up and unsure of what to say, he used the pause to take a seat in front of you and he pulled out a lighter. You leaned in and your eyes locked onto each other’s as he lit your cigarette. Seeing your doe eyes ignited something in him and you saw a mischievous glint in his. Feeling uneasy, you closed your eyes and took a deep drag.

So unlucky.

"You're the last person I thought I'd see at the club. And alone too?"

"I was bored and needed to get out of my apartment. That's all."

"You look beautiful tonight."

Caught off guard by his compliment, you bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, reminding yourself why you two aren't together anymore in the first place. His hand moved towards your face and you flinched a bit, but he gently brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear. You looked down feeling disconcerted, his slight touch sending a chill through you. You inhaled deeply, taking another drag and beginning to feel lightheaded from the alcohol you drank earlier even more.

"Thanks."

That was all you were able to mutter out. You felt awkward and didn't want to say anything at all. The feeling was intensified when Sukuna put his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh. He loved teasing you in public places. He held his hand out over the table for you to grab. You apprehensively took it and he brought your hand close to his face and kissed the back of it. He then set your hand on the table, putting his over yours. You stared at him as blush formed across your cheeks, overwhelmed by his presence. He smirked at your docility.

"You haven't been answering my calls or texts. Did you block me?"

You quietly answered.

"I did."

He shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"That's mean, princess. You don't know how much I've missed you."

He moved his knee farther in between your legs so it was lightly brushing against your cunt. He hummed in amusement when he felt your warmth, the desire in his eyes tempting you. You focused on keeping your cool but you were slowly losing your inhibitions. You hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks and for a little while, you forgot what he looked like. But even in the dim light, you could see his features perfectly: his pink hair and undercut that you loved ruffling, his tattoos that you would trace over with your fingertips, his build under your small hands, and his aura that hypnotizes you. He cheated on you but that doesn't mean a hook-up was out of the question, right? You took a drag and puffed the smoke out, deciding to shift away from him and your rash ideas. You were brought back from your thoughts when a woman approached you two.

"Hi, baby!"

You tensed up hearing the woman speaking sweetly to Sukuna. She wore a white off-the-shoulder dress and looked elegant, contrasting the full-on black streetwear you had on. Feeling a tad jealous, you wondered if she was more his type than you were. They exchanged a kiss and you turned your head discreetly and cringed. You had a look of disappointment on your face that changed to a more friendly expression when she greeted you. Sukuna introduced you to each other but your cloudy thoughts didn’t let you catch her name. You tried your best to wear a polite smile though you really wanted to scream in anger or cry in dejection.

"You go ahead inside. I'll be there in a little bit."

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then she scurried away, waving goodbye to the both of you. Sukuna then slowly turned to face you and you squinted at him with disgust. Before he got the chance to speak, you stood up to leave.

"I have to go."

"Wait, Y/N. She's no one."

Your thoughts were in a flurry, wondering how he could even say that after they had just kissed in front of you. Feeling disrespected, you scoffed at his absurd statement.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something. You don't have to lie to me anymore. We're done, remember?"

"You're the love of my life, Y/N. I'm only hanging out with her because I'm lonely and I don't have you around."

Tired of his nonsense, you took one last, long drag, finishing the cigarette and blowing the smoke in his face. You dropped the stoge to the floor, extinguishing the flame by rubbing it into the ground with your foot. Your face was hot with fury and intensity lined your voice.

"You missed me so you started seeing someone else? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you. Okay? You cheated on me. You hurt me. You replaced me. We're finished."

You made a sound of disgust and turned your back to him, beginning to walk away. But he stood up after you and roughly caught your wrist, pulling you to his Herculean chest. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating and the warmth he radiated made you want to close the distance between you two but you reminded yourself he was already here with someone. Regardless of what he feels, his actions say something entirely different. You wanted to push him away but he spoke with a harsh tone that stopped you in your tracks.

"No, princess. Don't you know how much that hurts me?"

Sukuna looked down on you, scrutinizing you. He didn't want to get aggressive but he had lost his patience and he hated not getting his way. His dark stare brought a bit of fear to your eyes but you were enticed as well. The energy around him exuded sinful intentions and though your fight or flight response triggered, it exhilarated you more than anything. He leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and breathy.

"It's cute how defiant you're being but I think what you really want is to be taken for it in the back of my car right now."

His crass words were provoking you into submission. He leaned back and took hold of your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head towards him and wearing a malevolent grin for you. His demeanor made you feel small and he knew it aroused you. He lightly pressed his lips against yours and hummed in contentment as you didn’t resist.

"I missed my little girl."

Stunned by the dominating air around him, you didn't kiss him back but you mindlessly followed him as he led you out of the patio area and to his car, his grip on your wrist still rough.

"Let's make up for lost time."

As you neared the vehicle, your thoughts began to flood. You knew this was a bad idea; your soul willed to reject him but your flesh was weak. You hadn't stopped missing Sukuna since you broke up and you wanted him so badly in this moment. You tried to justify it by telling yourself this was the last time for old time's sake and then you would really be finished with him. Your contemplation then transitioned to a vision of his date and you began to feel guilty, wondering how she would feel if she knew how low Sukuna could get. You almost brushed the thought off thinking Sukuna was yours in the first place but once he was about to open the door for you, Satoru's voice echoed in your head.

"Wait for me?"

Awakening from your stupor, you gasped and snatched your wrist back from Sukuna, Satoru's words finally making sense. You were dismayed at yourself as you almost traded your dignity for a little fling. You exhaled deeply and covered your face, tears collecting in your eyes. Ignoring the heartache in your chest, you steeled your resolve.

"I can't do this. If you really love me, you'd want what's best for me. And you're just not that. Not anymore."

His domineering presence disappeared and a bit of desperation was laced in his voice as he realized that you were no longer under his spell.

"Princess, please. I’ll do anything to atone."

"Save it for your next love."

You said it sharply but your chest ached as if you had just stabbed yourself with your own words. Tears ran down your face as you gave him a parting hug, cherishing for a few seconds the comfort you felt in his arms. You fit perfectly with him, his embrace on you snug yet tight and his chin resting on the top of your head. Not able to handle another second with him without sobbing, you teleported away. Sukuna stood there speechless, your warmth had left him and the rejection defeated him.

Once Satoru came back from his mission, he took you out to eat. He sat across from you at the maid cafe he suggested you both go to, though he insisted it wasn't because of the outfits, rather it was because of their delicious desserts. He ordered a crepe filled with strawberries and bananas, topped with chocolate sauce and powdered sugar, and strawberry and vanilla ice cream on the side. Your eyes grew in size at the sickly sugary and loaded confection and your sweet tooth ached for it.

"Why couldn't you have gotten me my own crepe?"

"I got the biggest size so we could share! You wouldn't have been able to finish one on your own anyway, sweets."

You shrugged and quieted your protests. Eating a spoonful of the sweet course, you closed your eyes and hummed in delight. Satoru smiled warmly watching you eat and then followed suit.

"How was the mission?"

“A cakewalk. I thought it’d be a little challenging because of the volume of incomplete domains but a first-grade sorcerer would’ve been sufficient. What’d you do while I was gone?”

You were in awe at his coolness and confidence he effortlessly exuded. But at his question, you let out a long exhale and rested your chin on your knuckles.

“I went to a club and saw Sukuna with a girl. She called him baby and they kissed right in front of me."

"Ouch."

He made a straight face and pursed his lips. You were apprehensive to tell him what happened next, but you weren’t one to lie or keep things from others. You sighed again, anxiously moving fruit around the plate with your fork.

"Worst of all, he tried to seduce me and it almost worked."

He leaned forward in interest, raising his eyebrow and looking at you intently. You nervously met his gaze, unsure of what he thought about the situation.

"Almost?"

"My mind was all over the place debating whether I should or not but I decided not to because I remembered you telling me to wait for you."

He chuckled haughtily and patted you on the head endearingly. You winced at his reaction, his unpredictability confusing you as usual.

"I said wait for me? I meant that I'd be back soon. I'm flattered you thought I didn't want you having sex with anyone else. Though that isn't my decision to make, is it?"

Your palm met your forehead, feeling a little foolish at your misinterpretation of his words. Though you couldn’t be sure that that was what he really meant. Regardless, you didn't want to seem desperate for him.

"Well, whatever. Hooking up with him would've been a mistake."

He nodded, taking a spoonful of crepe, fruit, and ice cream and holding it up to your mouth to feed you. You gladly accepted it, looking up at him and making eye contact as your lips slipped off of the spoon. He returned your lusty stare, telling you that he knew what was on your mind.

"Is this… a date?"

You innocently asked him, not wanting to get the wrong idea of his company.

"Yeah, it is."

You were surprised at the seriousness of his tone. Usually, he teased you by skirting around these kinds of questions.

"And I want to ask you out on another date tonight. Suguru is throwing a party! Everyone will be there. Let's go together."

"That sounds like a lot of fun, but you should go without me. I'm assuming 'everyone' includes Sukuna too."

A look of disapproval was shown on your face at his proposition and he pouted, voicing his objection.

"He might be there but what does it matter? Are you scared of him?"

You sighed in exasperation, knowing this was a bad idea. But you had already stood up to him twice now. Surely you could do it again if a confrontation happened. Though you would prefer not to put yourself in a situation like that at all, you didn’t want his mere presence to influence your actions. You pushed the plate of dessert towards Satoru to signal you were full and done eating. He happily ate the rest. You conceded to him.

"Fine."

"Yay! I'll pick you up at 9 then."

Later that night, Satoru arrived at your apartment an hour behind schedule. You were laying on your bed, hanging off the edge of it upside down when he walked in. He was wearing a fitted white dress shirt that you could easily see his muscular figure in and he had the first couple of buttons undone. Your eyes widened at his attractive appearance and you felt completely underdressed in your colorful shirt, baggy corduroy pants, and platform converse.

"Oh. It's that kind of party?"

His eyes lowered at your outfit and he frowned.

"I had a feeling you didn't have the right clothes for the occasion so I bought you something."

He handed you a black mini dress with spaghetti straps for you to wear. You took it and examined it, trying to decide if you liked it or not.

"You didn’t need to do that. It's not really something I'd buy for myself."

"At least try it on. Please? You can wear your platform boots with them."

You compromised and asked him to look away while you changed but he pretended not to hear you.

"Oh and Y/N? Don't wear a bra."

Your eyebrows scrunched and you pouted at him but you undressed down to your panties anyway. Satoru was obviously checking you out and you saw him lick his lips from the corner of your eye. He scanned you up and down, taking a bit more time viewing your breasts and ass that your panties couldn’t fully cover. You slipped on the dress and it fit a little too well, accentuating your curves and falling right at mid-thigh. After putting your platforms on, you looked at yourself in the mirror, content that you had at least one piece of clothing you were comfortable in.

Satoru came up behind you and hugged you, admiring your figure in the garment he had purchased just for you. His hands trailed the curve of your waist to your hips slowly while he pressed his lips against your ear, lightly licking your earlobe.

"You look delicious, sweets."

Taking one last look at yourself in the dress, and in his arms, you closed your eyes in satisfaction, your heart fluttering. He then grabbed your hand and led you out of the apartment to his car. After putting the key in the ignition, he drove fast, speeding recklessly towards Suguru’s residence. His driving unsettled you, but you were comforted when his hand moved to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. The drive was short and once you got there, you were on edge knowing Sukuna would see you tonight and would undoubtedly approach you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Satoru opened the car door for you and put his hand out for you to grab.

"You're welcome for the dress, by the way."

You turned your head and made a ‘hmph’ sound but then you batted your eyelashes at him and blushed, taking his hand and following his lead. Once you were inside and in view of your friends, you and Satoru unclasped hands, in silent agreement that you didn't want them to think anything was going on between you two yet.

"Fashionably late as usual. And Y/N! We haven't seen you in forever."

Suguru said as he lightly shoved Satoru. Suguru then embraced you tightly, picking you up and twirling you around. You yelped and Shoko came to your rescue, picking you out of his arms and giving you a tight hug as well. They both became straight-faced and asked how you were doing after the breakup. You chuckled nervously, putting your hand behind your head.

"I'm doing fine. Is Sukuna here already?"

"I haven't seen him yet. But wow! I've never seen you in a dress before. You look great."

Shoko nodded in agreement but then snickered after she surveyed you in the dress.

"Is it cold in here?"

Pointing to your nipples that were poking through your garment. Satoru and Suguru’s eyes fell to your chest and they both grinned. You instantly reddened and put your head down, calling them out.

"Stop looking!"

The three of them laughed endearingly while you crossed your arms over your chest to cover it. Shoko pulled you to the side while Suguru and Satoru began conversing with each other about their last missions.

"Seriously, Y/N. Are you okay? I heard Sukuna cheated on you and he's been seeing someone else already."

You sighed, a bit upset that your business was probably known by everyone by now.

"I saw them together at the club last week. It was terrible. Sukuna came with her but we almost hooked up in the back of his car while she was at the bar."

Shoko grimaced at the awkward situation. She put her arm around you to comfort you and you leaned into her.

"I just wanted to warn you that he'll probably show up with her tonight. And what about Satoru? You two are hanging out again?"

"Yeah, I'm slowly trying to reconnect with everyone I disappeared on when I started dating Sukuna."

She smiled knowing she'd be seeing you more often. Satoru and Suguru argued about who knows what but they resolved it quickly and rejoined your conversation.

"Well, you two should go grab a drink! Let's catch up later."

Suguru nudged you both in the direction of the alcohol. They had almost every kind but the only hard liquor you could keep down was tequila. Satoru knew that and had already poured you a shot.

"I'm only having a couple of drinks since I'm driving. I'll take care of you though."

"I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much."

You both said cheers and clinked shot cups. Downing the bitter drink, you made a face of disgust, wanting to cough it up. He then skillfully made two margaritas for both of you to sip on. You chugged it instead and Satoru furrowed his eyebrows at you, thinking he would definitely need to look out for you tonight despite your earlier protest.

"Do you wanna dance?"

You nodded and he led you into the dark room only dimly lit by red LED lights on the ceiling though you could see his intense eyes holding the heavens clearly. The faint light made the atmosphere erotic. He pulled you closer to him, his hand on the small of your back, and you awkwardly did a two-step dance. The unsynchronized movement didn’t fit with the music so he turned you around so your ass was on his crotch. He had to bend his knees a considerable amount because of your height difference. Regardless, he held you close and led your hips to grind on him. The slow swaying and the tequila setting in made you rid yourself of whatever awkwardness that was left.

"This dress looks a little too good on you."

He whispered in your ear as he began to get more frisky, one of his hands cupping your breast while the other crossed over your torso and rested on your hip. He held you close to him tightly, leaving no room between you two and wanting to get even closer. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, lightly kissing down it. You shivered a bit under his touch, sighing in gratification. Your hand found the nape of his neck and you held onto it, giving in to your lust as you felt his erection forming.

"Let's go somewhere else."

Grabbing your wrist, he eagerly led you out into the hallway where he pushed you against the wall, caging you between his arms. He kissed you feverishly, his lips smacking against yours and his tongue finding its way into your mouth where he brushed along your wet muscle. He lightly bit your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan, your body feeling loose and ready for more. Your hand trailed down his torso and over his groin, where you lightly grabbed his hard cock. He was a bit startled but then he smiled, kissing into you even more roughly, his hands cupping your face. You pulled away from his lips to lean over and whisper in his ear.

"Can we get out of here? I want you."

Your doe eyes and sweet voice feigning innocence made him drag you out of the house with a quickness.

As soon as you got outside, he gave you another impassioned kiss and grabbed your ass with both of his hands. You two were about to head over to Satoru's car when you heard a thunderous voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Satoru?"

Sukuna stomped his way over to you two and placed his hand on Satoru's shoulder. Satoru made a sound of disgust and brushed his hand off, turning to face him. He leaned over to look at the woman standing beside Sukuna and he scoffed.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your new girlfriend, Sukuna?"

Satoru spoke his name with a hiss and had the smuggest smile on his face seeing Sukuna seething with anger.

"She's not my girlfriend and what the fuck are you doing with Y/N? You're always getting your hands on my sloppy seconds."

You and Sukuna's date both winced at different parts of his harsh comments. This was probably the worst-case scenario.

"Don't be so full of yourself. Not a fan of your type, besides Y/N of course. And how could you cheat on the sweet girl? Let me guess, is it because you couldn't have the fucked up sex you want with her?"

The girl’s eyes widened, realizing Sukuna had cheated on you with her. You cringed at Satoru’s unintentional insult towards her, seeing how hurt and confused she was already. Your eyebrow raised at Satoru's comment and you inserted yourself into the conversation.

"What are you talking about, Satoru?"

Sukuna crossed his arms and shook his head. Satoru chuckled arrogantly and looked at you with darkened eyes.

"Why don't you tell her why you cheated, Suku?"

He mockingly called Sukuna by the nickname you had given to him. Sukuna sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb in frustration. He didn’t want you to find out like this but he was caught and couldn’t lie anymore.

"I have some kinks I didn't think you'd be into. I got drunk and couldn't control myself when I met someone with similar quirks."

Sukuna spoke as if his date wasn't even there. She glanced at you with embarrassment and dipped her head down so none of us could see her face. You huffed in disbelief and you shot him a dirty look, glaring at him.

"That's why you cheated on me? You didn't trust me enough to tell me what you desired? You didn't even give me a chance to decide whether I did or not?"

"Y/N, what are you even doing with Satoru? Was looking like a pathetic puppy following him around for years not enough indication of how he feels about you? How hopeless everyone thought you were until you started dating me?"

He deflected your questions and you balled your fists in anger, feeling like you were close to your boiling point and about to explode.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"Yes, pathetic. Running back to Satoru as soon as we're over? You don't think it's odd he went after you as soon as he found out we broke up?"

You slapped Sukuna straight across his face, his head turning and your eyes glowing red at him with rage. Your cursed energy changed the air around you hostilely and the three of them shuddered feeling it. Sukuna placed his hand over his cheek where you had hit him and he scowled. His date trembled at your actions and she tugged on his sleeve to ask if he was okay, to which he shrugged her off insensitively.

"I don't give a damn what you think of what I'm doing, Sukuna. You cheated on me for an asinine reason and then you berate me for actions that have nothing to do with you. I never want to see you again."

You spoke jeeringly. Satoru tried to grab your hand to comfort you but you plucked it away from him. He began to plead with you. Sukuna smiled slightly seeing that he successfully pitted you against Satoru.

"Y/N, I told you I'd make everything right. And I will, slowly and steadily."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head in resentment. You were done with all of this and everyone, ready to leave it all behind.

"The both of you can go fuck yourselves."

Satoru looked at you with pained eyes while Sukuna couldn't even face you. You turned to Sukuna's date and sighed, putting your hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort. You were both completely humiliated and she was on the verge of tears. You had a similar feeling but anger was the more prominent emotion.

"I'm sorry about all of this. You really don't deserve it."

She was mortified and began to cry, unable to speak. You turned your back to the three of them and began walking away.

"Don't follow me. I mean it. You two disgust me. I don't know who or what you think I am but I'm not a fucking toy."

"Y/N, please…"

Satoru's voice trailed as the distance increased between you two. You released your balled fists and one of your palms was red and stinging from the vicious slap you gave Sukuna. You then put your hands over your face, groaning loudly.

"What the fuck was all that?"

The walk home was miserable. You trudged back to your apartment, walking uncomfortably as the cold bit at your skin harshly and the dress hiked up your thighs. You constantly pulled the piece of clothing down to an almost modest length for the entire thirty-minute walk. The scene between you four replayed in your mind relentlessly. You wished you could just forget the past six months.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you fell down to your knees in front of the mirror. You examined yourself, thinking that you didn't like who you were or anyone very much at this moment. You banged on the mirror with the side of your fist, shattering the glass and distorting your reflection. Your hand began bleeding, shards of glass still embedded in it. And then, you began to sob hard, trying to catch your breath. Your chest felt heavy and your heart ached beneath it. Your phone hadn't stopped ringing since you left, mostly from calls and texts from Satoru, a few from Suguru and Shoko, and a couple from an unknown number which you assumed was Sukuna. You doubted yourself and the people closest to you.

"Am I not deserving of the love I give to others? Am I really just a pitiful person?"

You laid face down on the floor in despair. Exhaling deeply, you were unbearably exhausted and the confidence in yourself had completely dissipated. The depression began to settle in and you fell asleep in absolute defeat.

Note: Watch out for fluff next chapter <3

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MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

#gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #sukuna #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #mine

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alch3mic · 3 years

Note

Cheshire! Cheshire please!

There was something about having the long cardboard tube in your hands that made you feel.. dangerous.

It was probably due to the fact that it was so lightweight that you could swing it with ease while the length of the tube gave you plenty of reach. Such a deadly and efficient weapon was not meant for the hands of mere mortals, and yet one has found itself within your grasp after you finished off a thing of wrapping paper.

..As well as in the hands of your favorite skeleton.

Now armed with the tube and your warrior spirit, you took a carefully crafted stance based off of the tons of samurai films you two had been indulging in these past few weeks, while staring down the smug cat boy across the room.

“foolish,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “to think someone like you would come forth to challenge me. you’re nothing but a fool!”

“Maybe so,” you replied calmly, positioning your hands better while watching for any signs of movements on Sans’ end. “But this fool is determined to beat you.”

“ufufufu~” he chuckled, giving you a cheeky smile. “fine. i see that the time to talk is over, so now we must speak with our swords!”

“Tubes.”

“don’t ruin the moment!” he huffed, his ears fluffing out a bit before he surprisingly leaped towards you.

You strafed left, nearly missing a blow to your head as San’s paper tube whipped by with impressive speeds. There was a small moment of opportunity where you saw an opening, so you swung..

..only to be met with the sounds of your tubes clashing as Sans quickly blocked your strike.

Damn he was fast.

Of course it didn’t surprise you having spent years tailing after this quirky skeleton while trying to film all of his goofy antics, but still..

He wasn’t holding back, especially as he drew back before unleashing another rapid strike. This time it just barely grazed you as you moved your head, the feeling of cardboard sliding against your cheek making it sting slightly from the friction, but you moved again before he could try to move his tube again smack you.

“i told you it was foolish to challenge me!” he laughed as you put some distance between the two of you, your apartment seeming much smaller now that you were locked in battle. “you’re too slow to keep up.”

“But there’s still a chance for me to knock you down in one blow,” you said smoothly, straightening yourself up and once again staring down the skeleton across from you as you raised your cardboard tube.

He frowned, clearly annoyed by your calm attitude and declarations, but he still readied up his stance once more as a brief moment of silence fell between you.

And then you struck.

The pop sound that followed of your cardboard tubes striking was rather loud, nearly making you wonder if you swung too hard, but Sans held his ground.

“i told you it was useless!” he huffed dramatically, fending off your blow rather impressively.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” you replied, finding a smile pulling on to your features.

He inhaled sharply, his face scrunching at your words before he puffed his cheeks out.

“liar,” he laughed, “you’re out of tricks?”

“Oh? What if I threatened to kiss you.”

“...huh?”

He still retained his resistance but his eyesockets had gone wide as he started at you in shock.

“What if I threatened to kiss y-”

“i-!” he hissed, his expression contorting from surprise to irritation as he bared his teeth at you, just enough to see his fangs poke through. “ i heard you the first time!”

“Then?”

“then what?! it’s not like you actually would you dummy!” he huffed. “stars i swear i hate that you can say shit so casually like that sometimes..”

“I’m being serious.”

“no you’re not you jackass!”

“I am,” you said just as simply as before, but this time putting more pressure on to your paper tube as you felt Sans slowly losing his grip.

“liar!” he hissed again, trying his best to regain his grip and footing, but slowly losing as that familiar pink blush on his cheeks grew deeper.\

You drew your face closer, knowing fully well you were risking being scratched by the pricking cat boy in front of you, but you just couldn’t resist.

“..Sans..” you said softly, instantly making the skeleton shrink back and squeeze his eyes shut.

.......

...

BOP!

“yeooooooooow!” he cried dramatically despite the fact that you barely bopped him on the head. “ahhh i knew it! i knew you were going to-!”

“Sorry,” you replied with a laugh.

“the fuck you are!” he growled, throwing down his tube and now brandishing his claws at you. “you’re terrible, you know that! awful! the absolute worst! i'm tired of putting up with your shit! it’s time i teach you not to pull a cat’s tail!”

“Mercy please,” you said casually while throwing your hands up and tossing the paper tube to the side.

“fuck you!”

“Will you give me a chance to apologize properly before you tear me to shreds?”

“...”

“Please?” you added, clasping your hands together.

“ugh, fine.. but only if you grovel at my feet and beg for forgiveness,” he huffed, crossing his arms and closing his eyesockets while letting out an extra ‘hmph’ for emphasis.

“Then..” you said gently, taking a few steps closer to him, “I’m very, very, very sorry Chessy.”

Then you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead where you bopped him.

.......

...........

..........................

“You ok?”

“no,” he fumed, his face bright pink as he still kept his arms firmly crossed and eyesockets squeezed shut tight.

“Should I apologize again?”

“no...! you’re-! gross! ....and icky,” he fumbled out quietly. “now i probably have cooties from you.”

“Hmm, I think you need at least two kisses to get cooties,” you hummed playfully. “So.. come here.”

“huh..? what!? n-no!!”

“You can’t escape me Cheshire, I’m going to infect you with my cooties.”

“nooo!! nononono! i don’t want your icky gross cooties alice, lemme go!”

“It’s too late~.”

“AHHH! YAMEROOO!”

Funnily he enough he didn’t try to hard to escape your grasp, especially knowing he could shortcut right out of there any time he wanted.

check out my other writings | feel free to drop me a ko-fi!

#goofballs being goofballs #i hope you enjoy some more fluff with cheshire!#cheshire!sans #sans #undertale #underlust #lust sans #sans x reader #reader insert #fluff #drabble #wickedtale #alch!writes #anon

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interstellarflare · 4 years

Text

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART FOUR-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked angrily, as you followed Homelander up the large staircase of your apartment complex and onto the roof. He hovered a few metres away from the edge, whilst you stood as close to the edge of the roof as you could. Homelander turned to face you, his hair gently rustling in the wind. “I’m going to confront Stillwell. I want answers, and she is going to give them to me”.

“We need to be smart about this...” You persisted throwing you arms out in annoyance “if you go charging in there all high and mighty and demand answers, she’s going to know that something is wrong. We need to do this discreetly, otherwise you’re going to fuck this up for everyone”.

“Excuse me?” Homelander growled, flying down so that he was hovering just away from the edge “I’m the Homelander. And I can do whatever the fuck I want. Nothing goes on at Vought without me knowing about it. You have no powers, you’re not special, no one would give a damn if something happened to you. So what makes you think you can help me?” he asked angrily, his eyes once again beginning to glow a dangerous red. You didn’t know why his words hurt so much, you didn’t understand why your chest tightened painfully. But you stood tall, clenching your hands into fists as you shouted “I don’t care who the fuck you are! What I care about is doing this right. If you go to Stillwell and demand answers, there’s a likely chance you will put The Seven in danger, and likely anyone else involved. I might not have powers, but at least one of us has to have some common fucking sense!”.

When no response came from The World’s Greatest Hero, you scoffed shrugging your shoulders as you stepped away from the edge of the roof “Then again, what do I know. I’m not special. But if I hadn’t hacked into your servers, you wouldn’t have known about this, and you would have been covering Vought’s arse for all the wrong reasons, not that you don’t do that anyway”. You turned on your heel and headed back towards the door, hugging your arms close to your body as you suddenly felt cold. You shivered, reaching out to grasp the door handle as a firm hand was placed on your shoulder. Homelander spun you around, glaring down at your form with his eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer to you. “What makes you think I don’t have any common sense?” he asked loudly, throwing his arms out in exasperation as he waited for your response. As you forcefully pushed him away from you, you ignored how surprised you were to see him stumble. He never stumbled. Then again, he didn’t let just anyone punch him either. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed loudly and stepped toward him “Classic Homelander tactic, you always rush in first. You act without thinking it through. You think that just because you are ‘The World’s Greatest Superhero’, that everyone will automatically grovel at your feet and beg for mercy!...” you shouted, your voice breaking as your tone became angrier “well guess what, even superheroes get screwed over. That’s just how the world works. And you’re angry. You’re angry because you got played-”

“Just shut up!” Homelander cried, his eyes glowing a menacing red before firing one large beam directly beside where you were standing. You shrieked, falling over onto your backside with a fearful gasp. The gravel atop the roof smouldered, grey smoke rising into the air in a steady pillar. That was it, this was the last straw. You quickly stood to your feet, rage surging through your blood as you shouted so loud, that you were certain that the entire neighbourhood could hear you. “Fine! If you want to go and fuck things up for yourself, then by all means go ahead. I’m not going to stop you! But you don’t get to come back to me and beg for my help when things go wrong. I’ve dealt with enough of this shit to last me a lifetime, and I don’t need more of it. Especially, not from someone like you!”. With one final glare, you stormed off the roof, slamming the door to the stairwell behind you hard enough that the sound echoed throughout the entire building. The walk to your apartment became a blur, so much so that you don’t even remember walking through the door, or hearing Max’s pestering questions about where Homelander had gone.

Instead, you stormed straight to your bedroom, closing the door behind you with a harsh bang before leaning back against it. You buried your head in your hands, collapsing to the floor as you brought your knees up to your chest. And for all the wrong reasons, you cried. You cried, because the fucking bastard didn’t care about anyone else but himself. You cried, because he couldn’t see what he was doing to the people around him. What he was doing to you. A small part of you still wanted to believe that there was still some good in him, after he had saved your life from a car accident all those years ago. The accident had happened just before Max had been born. You were on your way to the hospital to meet Michael when your car collided with that of an intoxicated driver. You car flipped several times, trapping you inside the wreckage upside down as it caught fire. You still wonder what had possessed him to save your life that night, what made him decide that you were worth saving? How could someone with such extraordinary gifts, abuse them in such a way?

You sighed heavily, wiping the tears from your face as your wrapped your arms around your form, giving yourself what little comfort you could. Unknown to you, or anyone within the apartment complex, Homelander had never left. He could hear your faint sobs through the layered walls, your heartfelt cries and awkward sniffles as you tried so desperately to assure your nephew that you were fine. He could see you hiding in your bedroom, alone and hurting. And a small part of him felt guilty for causing you to feel this way. But he couldn’t talk to you, not now. He needed answers, and he would get them by whatever means necessary. But your words stuck with him the entire flight back to Vought International, ‘We need to be smart about this...at least one of us has to have some common fucking sense’.

Maybe you were right. Maybe you weren’t. But he would never know now, as he instead changed his direction and flew about the city, trying to clear his head of tonights events.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since your argument with Homelander, and nothing had changed.

It had been quiet for the most part, except for when Max stopped by every afternoon after school as your apartment was within walking distance. More often than not, Black Noir stopped by as well. He often sat outside on the fire escape, perched either reading a book or casually watching you as you went about your daily activities. So at some point, and you’re still unsure as to why, but you invited him inside.

You started to leave your window unlocked again for whenever he came by, and he didn’t talk much. Which surprisingly made him a very good listener. He listened to your every word with some sort of interest, and it felt good to have another adult around, one that actually listened to you and didn’t argue. In those two weeks, you managed to get a new phone, a new number, and managed to establish all your old contacts again. Butcher was the only one you couldn’t make contact with. He hadn’t stopped by your apartment either, which left you a little disheartened. You figured that the CIA considered you a loose end, and that Homelander had or would likely kill you when he was done with you. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

You sat at the dining room table, trying to weave your way through Vought’s servers for a second time. But you hadn’t expected such resistance. They had definitely upgraded their technology, their firewalls were practically impenetrable. You cursed under your breath, slamming your hands against the table’s surface out of frustration. Noir looked up from the book he was reading on your couch, his head tilting to the side out of confusion and questioning. You groaned, running a stressed hand through your hair “When did Vought upgrade their servers?” You asked him, not really expecting a helpful answer from him at all. When Noir shrugged and returned his gaze back to his book, you poked your tongue out childishly in his direction. “Thanks a lot, arsehole” You grumbled, rolling your eyes as he gave you a sarcastic thumbs up. Before you could respond with a disrespectful quip, there was a loud knock at the door.

Again, you groan, muttering a few jumbled incoherent phrases under your breath as you approached. You swung the door open without thinking, and almost choked on air when you eyes landed on the person on the other side. Homelander stood with his eyes downcast, his hues a darker and sadder shade of blue than they usually were. His right arm leaned against the doorframe, his usually combed back fair hair in slight disarray. You looked him up and down, swallowing thickly as a heavy silence filled the hallway. You cleared your throat, folding your arms over your chest as you opened your mouth to speak.

“I want to try it your way...” Homelander suddenly spoke, his voice low and devoid of his usual sarcastic and pompous tone. Your eyes widened as you were taken aback by his sudden sincereness. You bit your bottom lip, raising an eyebrow in challenge “Did demanding answers not do it for you?-”

“I didn’t...ask Stillwell about Project Cerberus...” He snapped bitterly, gritting his teeth as he lifted his eyes to meet your own. You nodded slowly, hating the way you so easily gave in and stepped aside, allowing the man before you to step into your apartment. But before he could walk past you, you reach out and grabbed his upper arm with your hand, looking up at the Supe from the corner of your eye. “Yell at me like you did two weeks ago again, and I’m done. Understand?” You spoke seriously, your grip tightening around his bicep as a silent promise. Homelander nodded wordlessly, and you released him from your hold. You closed the door to your apartment and headed back towards the living room, where Homelander nodded a curt greeting to the other Supe sitting on the couch. “Just out of curiosity, is there something else I can call you other than Homelander? Otherwise I’m just going to call you prick or arsehole” you stated blatantly, smirking tauntingly as the man before you turned to face your figure with a stern and harsh expression. With his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flaring in anger, you held your hands up in defence “Okay then, baby steps...baby steps”.

Your eyes widened in shock as Noir released a huff sounding close enough to a laugh. After making eye contact with Homelander out of bewilderment, and after seeing that he wore a similar expression, you shook your head. After deciding that Noir possibly laughing wasn’t as weird as having two of The Seven currently situated in you apartment, you motioned Homelander over to your laptop, where the two of you set about breaking into Vought’s servers.

Tag List: @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander imagine #the boys x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #antony starr

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jensengirl83 · 4 years

Text

Regret and Redemption Chapter One

Dean x reader

Word count-2286

Warnings-Angst, language, heartbreak

A/N- I hope everyone enjoys reading this series as much as I have writing it! Feedback is appreciated!

Text dividers are courtesy of the amazing @talesmaniac89

The sun shined through the blinds and the birds could be heard singing as Dean stirred in the bed. His eyes fluttered open slowly taking in the light shining into the room as he reached for his phone to check the time. He sat up with a start realizing it was after nine in the morning and jumped out of bed to get dressed to head to the garage. He glanced over to see Y/N’s side of the bed empty and made up, which meant she’d already woken up. He’s annoyed as he headed down the stairs to the kitchen to get his morning cup of coffee. If she had been awake, why hadn’t she woken him up for work like she always did?

Dean entered the kitchen to ask her why she let him oversleep when he noticed the coffee pot was empty and she wasn’t there. He grumbled to himself as he made a pot of coffee, muttering about her not having it ready under his breath. She was probably locked up in her office trying to write another book and lost track of time he thinks to himself. It still aggravated him that she couldn’t bother herself to watch the time and get him up and out the door with his coffee as usual.

After Dean had made a cup of coffee, he stomped back up the stairs to get dressed hoping she could hear his frustration with her. It’s not like she has to leave the house for work. She gets to sit home and type on her computer all day. Dean was still mumbling in frustration to himself as he took his shirt off and threw it on the bed as he made his way to the walk-in closet. The mirror on their dresser caught his eye, and he stopped to look at his reflection seeing the hickey on his chest. Guilt washed over him for a brief second before he shook it off and continued to the closet. He knew he shouldn’t be doing what he was, but he couldn’t seem to control himself.

Dean opened the closet door and walked in to get his clothes for the day, freezing in his spot as he looked to her side of the closet. Her clothes were gone and there were two suitcases missing. His heart was in his throat and all he could do is stare at her empty side of their closet. There is no way she could have found out what he was doing, right? He had been extra careful to keep his extramarital activities secret and hushed. He had even been sleeping with a shirt on to cover the hickey that Stacy had left on accident. He had told her she couldn’t be doing stupid shit like that!

Dean spun on his heels, running out of the room and down the stairs screaming his wife’s name. There had to be an explanation to where she was because she would never just leave him like this. He ran straight to her office and swung the door open, and what he saw brought him to his knees. The room is completely empty of her things: her computer, books, everything. The truth of the situation hit him like a freight train: his wife was gone.

He slowly stood to his feet, looking around the room for any clue as to where she could have gone when something on her desk caught his eye. Dean walked over and saw that their wedding picture was the only thing she had left behind. He picked up the picture, rubbing his finger down Y/N’s face as a tear slipped down his cheek. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and still was. The smile on their faces made his heart break even further at how happy they had once been. Dean thought about all mistakes that had led him to losing the most important person in his life.

The sound of his phone ringing brought Dean’s attention back to the present as he ran up the stairs two at a time in hopes that it was Y/N calling. He rushed through the door of their room to grab his phone from the bed to answer it, not even bothering to look at who was calling.

“Hello?!” Dean answers out of breath from his marathon sprint up the stairs.

“Where the hell are you? I stopped by the garage and they said you never showed up for work,” Sam asked his brother with worry in his voice. Dean may do many things, but shirking work was not one of them.

“She’s gone Sammy!” Dean said with fresh tears spilling down his face.

“What are you talking about Dean? Oh God, is Y/N ok?”

“She’s gone man! I woke up and she had packed all her stuff and left! What am I going to do?” Dean sat on the floor of their bedroom in his boxers with his phone pressed to his ear, knowing he fucked up.

“Dean… What happened?” Sam sighed, already fairly sure he knew the answer.

“I think she knows, Sam,” Dean said, knowing that his brother knew exactly what he was talking about. “Can you come over?”

“Already on my way,” Sam said before he hung up the phone knowing this wasn’t going to end well for Dean. Sam was already on his way there, but pressed the gas a little harder hearing the desperation in his brother’s voice.

Dean looked around the room, still sitting on the floor not having the strength to get up. He hadn’t realized just how much he was going to lose until she wasn’t there anymore. She had always promised to be there for him, but he had also made promises he didn’t keep. He wanted to be angry with her for leaving him like she did, but he couldn’t be angry with anyone but himself, knowing this was all his fault.

Dean was still in the middle of his self-loathing when he heard the front door open and shut. He jumped to his feet and ran for the stairs praying that it was his wife deciding to come home so he could drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness. His heart dropped as he saw Sam standing in the living room by the couch, knowing that thinking it was Y/N was just wishful thinking.

“Have you heard from her?” Dean asked Sam as he moved to sit on the couch, dropping his head in his hands.

“No Dean. You really think she would call me? Y/N and I get along well, but she isn’t going to call her cheating husband’s brother,” Sam said looking down at Dean, feeling sorry for him but disgusted at the same time.

“Nice Sam, just rub salt in the wound will ya?” Dean glared up at Sam, but he should’ve known this would be his reaction. Sam was his brother, but he and Y/N have been close for years.

“Dean, you are my brother and I love you, but you fucked up. You couldn’t keep it in your pants and you lost the only woman who would put up with you and your bullshit. You being my brother is the only reason I never told her what you were up to in the first place,” Sam told him, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew his brother was hurting, but he needed to hear the truth.

“You don’t think I know that Sam?! I know I fucked up and now my whole world is gone! I don’t need you to stand here and tell me what I already know!” Dean yelled, standing up from the couch to come chest to chest with his brother.

“Your whole world huh? Was that what you were thinking when you were fucking Stacy in your office or the bartender at the bar?” Sam feels bad for being so hard on him, but Dean needed it to get his head back on straight if he ever wanted a chance to get Y/N back, if she would even come back at this point.

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam to go fuck himself, but he couldn’t get the words to come out because he knew his brother was right. He wasn’t thinking about Y/N and how it would make her feel when he was sleeping with those other women, he had only been thinking about himself and the ego boost it gave him that they wanted him. His low self-esteem and the need to feel wanted by these women had cost him the only woman that genuinely cared for him. Y/N was the one that had been there through all the bad times when he was at his lowest and the only one to always show him true love.

“Have you tried to call her?” Sam asked as he uncrossed his arms, ready to catch Dean if he collapsed to the floor as it looked like he was going to.

Sam was right: Dean collapsed down to the couch with his head in his hands, starting to sob pitifully. Sam really hated seeing his brother like this, but he wasn’t sure what to do to help him at this point. He sat down next to Dean and placed his hand on his shoulder to let him know he was still there, letting Dean grieve his loss.

“What was I thinking Sam? I hurt her so badly, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if she would even let me try,” Dean sighed with his head still in his hands, too ashamed to look up.

“I don’t know what to tell you Dean. Trying to call her and talk to her would be a good place to start,” Sam said, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. “I have to get back to the office and get ready for the case I have later today. Are you going to be ok man?”

Dean just nodded his head at him, unable to speak, afraid the sobs would start again. He felt Sam stand up and heard him walk out, shutting the door behind him. Dean stayed on the couch for a long while trying to think of what he could do to bring his wife home. He could only hope that she would be able to forgive him eventually and come home, because he couldn’t be without her. He cursed at himself for letting his insecurities and self esteem ruin the best thing to ever happen to him as he picked up his phone to call her.

His hands are shaking as he unlocked his phone and pressed her name in his favorites. He brought the phone up to his ear, hoping she’ll answer his call so he can grovel to her and ask her to forgive him. The phone rang twice before it went to her voicemail. Dean started to cry yet again at the sound of her voice. He reluctantly hung up the phone and thought of who he could call to find her, knowing he wouldn’t be able to rest until he could talk to her.

He paced the living room racking his brain over who could possibly know where she was. He knew she wouldn’t have called her parents since they no longer speak, yet another thing he had to feel guilty over. When she had the falling out with her parents, he’d been balls deep in his secretary when she’d called, wanting him to come home and be with her. He hadn’t found out until he checked his voicemail hours later. Thinking back now to all the awful things he had done, it's no wonder why Y/N had left his sorry ass.

Dean had called everyone he knew that she could have possibly called, but no one had heard from her. As he hung up from the last phone call, he was beyond frustrated. She had been smart and used cash because he had already had the bank pull up the transaction records for the day and there hadn’t been one single transaction other than the withdrawal she had made early that morning. He sunk back down into the couch, laid his head back, and closed his eyes thinking about all the times he had made her feel this way: the worrying and the frustration of not knowing where he was, the feeling of being all alone.

She was alone, sitting in a hotel room across town, her eyes red and swollen from all the tears she had shed over a marriage that meant so much to her but not to her husband, the man she had adored since she had seen him in his leather jacket driving the Impala all those years ago. They were supposed to grow old and raise a family together, not end up with her sitting here in a hotel room getting ready to make one of the hardest phone calls she has ever had to make.

“Turner Law Offices. How may I help you?” Her uncle’s secretary asks sweetly.

“Hey Diane, it’s Y/N. Is Uncle Johnnie in?” Y/N asked as her hands shook. She didn’t want to have this conversation, but knew she had no other choice now.

“Hey Y/N, honey! What’s up?” Her uncle asked her with hesitation in his voice. She never called him at his office unless she needed something.

“I need to file for a legal separation Uncle Johnnie,” Y/N told him as she started to cry again. This was going to be one of the hardest chapters of her life: leaving behind her husband and their marriage as she tried to move on with her life.

Regret and Redemption tags Tags: @flamencodiva @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @voltage-my2dlove @hardcoresupernatural @msmarvelouswinchester @lyarr24 @deanmonandnegansbitch @akshi8278 @midsummereve1993 @sutton2001 @emory91 @halesandy @miss-nerd95 @ellewritesfix05 @bxbyizzy @winchest09 @adoptdontshoppets @defenderrosetyler @hobby27 @whatareyousearchingfordean @talesmaniac89 @deanwanddamons @atc74 @superfanficnatural @smol-and-grumpy @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @xhannahbananax03 @coffeebooksandfandom

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural family #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn famdom #spn family #dean au #mechanic au #dean winchester series

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mfingenius · 4 years

Text

Pets and Princes pt 2

Auguste is possibly the only one of the Veretians who feels a little sorry for him; everyone is talking about what happened at the meeting, and Damen largely suspects that it might have already reached Kastor. He doesn’t want to think about what’ll happen when he returns.

The King and Queen seem to not quite know what to do with him, Nikandros is furious, Prince Laurent won’t even look at Damen, and Lazar – Laurent's guard – grins every time he sees him. The Veretian pets also seem to know what has happened, because one of them comes up to him and, quite insolently, says:

“Pet.” Pointing at the earring on his lobe. Then points at Laurent. “Not pet.”

Damen thanks him for the clarification, but wishes someone had given it a lot sooner.

Auguste had been mad at him too, at first, but after a particular – impossibly uncomfortable – diplomatic dinner in which Damen continuously tries to speak to Laurent – and makes a fool of himself every single time – he gets a lot more sympathetic.

“Damen.” Auguste grimaces, after Damen somehow manages to make Laurent go red by calling him virginal. Damen really, really doesn’t know what’s happening to him; he knows Veretian perfectly and he’s never this much of an idiot with words. He’s not Laurent, admittedly, whose words always seem to have three different meanings, but he’s not a helpless teenager trying to woo someone for the first time either. “I am begging you to stop.”

Damen groans, burying his face in his hands. “I’m trying to – apologize, or fix this-”

“You’re making it worse,” Auguste observes and Damen glares weakly at him. “Did you not notice?”

“Of course I noticed!” Damen says hotly. So has everyone else, it seems, because if Laurent and Damen even come close, everyone stares at the scene with great interest, waiting to see how Damen might make things worse. “I’m just – I don’t know why I'm like this, I’m not trying to – anything I say somehow sounds like an insult, and I can never seem to say what I mean and if I somehow do he turns it into something else-”

Auguste grimaces again, this time sympathetic. “Yeah, that sounds like conversation attempts with Laurent.” They both look at the Prince, attempting to stay out of sight in a corner of the room, talking to Lazar, who’s grinning. “Look, when you get used to it, it’s easier. I suppose. He's never actually done it to me, but, well, I've never called him a pet.”

Damen glares at him again, and Auguste grins, slapping him on the back.

“It’ll get better,” he says. “Stop apologizing every two minutes. Stop talking to him at public events; he hates them. Give him sweets, or better yet, take him riding. Try not to call him a pet again.”

Damen blinks. “You’re - helping me?”

Auguste shrugs. “We’re friends, and Laurent has never been interested in anyone, and I think you might be – acceptable.” Damen frowns at him, and Auguste amends. “And he’s still angry at me for threatening you, so I think this might help me atone.”

“So you’re using me,” Damen says, unimpressed.

Auguste rolls his eyes. “Do you want my help or not?”

Damen desperately does.

Damen keeps his distance for a few days so that he won’t overwhelm Laurent. He thinks Laurent might need a chance to forget about Damen’s accidental insults before he can try to fix it again. And it gives him time to make a plan.

A Nikandros-and-Auguste approved plan.

Or something like that, because Nikandros votes for the ‘Damen-never-open-your-mouth-again-around-him-and-let's-go-back-to-Ios' plan, but Damen is obviously not going to do that, and Nikandros knows him well enough to know that, too.

“Prince Damianos.” Laurent sighs when Damen enters the library. “I’ve told you you’ve apologized enough times-”

“I’m not here to apologize,” Damen says boldly, sticking strictly to the script he and Auguste have practiced many times. “I’m here for a book.”

“A book,” Laurent repeats skeptically.

Auguste really did know what Laurent would say.

“Yes, your highness,” Damen says. “I read.”

“Do you.” Auguste has Laurent’s dry, unimpressed tone down to a science, even if it looks odd on him, which is why Damen is ready for both the tone and the words. “I wasn’t sure you could, considering nearly every document you signed already had ‘Prince Laurent of Vere’ on it.”

Damen’s cheeks warm. “Yes, well.”

Laurent cocks an eyebrow, and Damen doesn’t continue. Stick to the fucking script, Nikandros had said, when he’d accepted that Damen was going to talk to Laurent, whether or not he wanted him to.

The script didn’t have an answer to possibly justify his actions.

“What book can you recommend?” he asks, because that is part of the script. “I do not know much of Veretian literature.”

Laurent looks at him for a moment longer, before he shrugs and stands; for a moment, Damen is convinced he’s going to leave, and he’s scrambling for something to say, but he doesn’t; instead, Laurent stands on his tiptoes to reach an old, worn tome, with fading golden letters.

“Here.” He shoves it into Damen’s hands.

Classic Veretian Fairytales

Damen looks up at Laurent, surprised; he’s flushing lightly.

“Well?” he asks. “You can leave now.”

Damen does.

“Oh, this is good!” Auguste says. “It’s Laurent’s favorite. If he’s willing to give it to you to read he still at least likes you a little bit!”

“Just to be clear, Prince Auguste,” Nikandros says, arching an eyebrow. “Your brother is angry at you for meddling, so you’re meddling more.”

Auguste hums. “I like to think of it as un-meddling what I meddled in.”

“It’s not,” Nikandros says.

Damen kicks him in the shin to get him to shut up; experience largely suggests he can’t talk to Laurent without Auguste’s help, so he can’t have him backing out now.

“What do I do now?” he asks. “I want him to forgive me, and I want to ask him out.”

“Okay,” Auguste says, sitting on Damen’s bed with a frown. “You’ve already tried practically groveling at his feet.” Damen tries to protest, but Nikandros snickers and nods. “And begging for forgiveness, so let’s not try that again; it’s unbecoming.”

“What has he liked in men before?” Damen asks, with a not-entirely-small spark of jealousy in his chest. “That I could implement?”

Auguste’s frown deepens. “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Damen repeats skeptically.

Nikandros, who’s there mostly to make sure Damen doesn’t cause another national incident, real this time, makes a face. “He must’ve liked someone. He’s of age. Has he never taken a pet? Or a slave?”

Auguste grimaces. “There are no slaves here, and don’t bring that up. Laurent hates slavery. As for pets, no. The Council has been trying to force him for months, but Laurent avoids it at every turn.”

“Maybe Queen Hennike is right,” Nikandros says. “And he has a type.”

He and Auguste look at Damen thoughtfully; Damen, never one to be self-conscious but feeling slightly unsure of himself, tries to smile.

“Unbelievably unobservant giants?” Auguste suggests. “Is that a type?”

“I am not unbelievably unobservant,” Damen argues. He cannot really argue against the ‘giant’ part.

“You thought he was my pet.”

“Are we still bringing that up?” Damen groans. “I thought we were over it.”

“We will never be over it,” Nikandros says seriously, and Damen groans again.

“Oh!” Auguste says. “I have a plan!”

“Riding,” Laurent repeats skeptically, looking at Damen up and down. “You enjoy riding?”

Not particularly; Damen loves his stallion, which has gotten him through many battles and even more journeys, but he doesn’t generally ride for the sake of riding. Laurent, however, seems to spend most of his time either in the library or on his horse, so Damen will do this.

“I’m certain I would enjoy it with you,” Damen says; from behind Laurent, hiding behind a bush, Auguste frantically shakes his head and Nikandros smacks his hand against his forehead. “I mean, yes. I enjoy it.”

Laurent looks at him critically. “What did you think of the book I gave you?”

He brushes his mare’s hair as he says it, seemingly uninterested, but Damen feels like there’s definitely a wrong answer.

“It was certainly interesting.” Laurent rolls his eyes, and Damen continues. “I had never realized Veretian fairytales were so different from Akielon ones.”

“How so?”

“Veretian fairytales are quite cold, in comparison.” Both Nikandros and Auguste gape at him. Then, Auguste throws his hands up in defeat, glaring at him venomously.

“Cold,” Laurent repeats; he has stopped in the middle of brushing his mare.

“Yes,” Damen says, pushing forward despite the pounding in his chest. He doesn’t know what drove him to stray from the script, but it’s too late to make up for it now. “Akielon fairytales are more romantic.”

Laurent narrows his eyes at him, and then swings up onto his horse; for a moment, Damen’s stomach sinks.

“Well?” Laurent arches his eyebrows at him. “Come on. You can tell me all about whatever it is you Akielons call romance. You’ll be wrong, but I’m willing to listen.”

“I-” Damen swallows. “Okay.”

“Why did you abandon the script?” is the first thing Nikandros asks the moment Damen walks through his bedroom doors, grinning like an idiot.

“It worked, didn’t it? He let me go riding with him.”

“What happened?” Auguste asks with great interest, lying on Damen’s bed. “Is he still mad at me?”

“We didn’t talk about you,” Damen says.

Auguste looks insulted. “What did you talk about, then? You have nothing in common!”

“Akielon fairytales.” Damen shrugs. “Horses. He told me about the apricot trees near the border.” He grins goofily. “Oh, and he invited me to his rooms later.”

“What?” Auguste asks, straightening abruptly. “Laurent?”

“Yes.”

“My brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, it’s happening!” he cries in relief.

“What?” Nik asks.

“Well, I assume he’s intending to bed you,” Auguste says, standing from Damen’s bed and rambling. “And he’s never wanted to do that with anyone before, and I was beginning to worry-”

“Damen’s not going to bed him!” Nik says.

When Damen doesn’t say anything, both he and Auguste turn to him expectantly.

“Damen!” Nikandros exclaims. “This is a terrible idea! You cannot bed Prince Laurent!”

“I’m not trying to!” Damen defends. Nik looks relieved, before Damen continues. “I wish to court him.”

“Wait, what?” Auguste asks. “Court him? As in, real courtship? To wed?”

“Yes,” Damen says, confused. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes!” Auguste exclaims. “You can’t take Laurent away to Ios!”

“I thought you were okay with this!” Damen says.

“I thought you wanted to take him out on a few dates, I didn’t think you’d - not courtship!”

Everyone in the room is silent.

“Okay,” Nik says, slowly. “Maybe we should take a moment to – cool off. All of us.”

“Of course,” Auguste says, glaring tightly at Damen. “A moment.”

He storms out of the room.

“Well, shit,” Nik drawls. “Who ever could’ve predicted this would go wrong?”

Damen glares at him.

“Has something happened between you and my brother?” Laurent asks, with great interest, when Damen arrives to his rooms.

“What?” Damen asks.

“He was here before,” Laurent says nonchalantly, leaning against the pillar of his bedframe.

“What did he say?” Damen asks, mouth dry; he doesn’t think Auguste will have told Laurent about their plan – he thinks Laurent wouldn’t be talking to him now if he knew – but he knows Auguste’s opinion carries a lot of weight with Laurent; he’s seen it in the way they treat each other, heard it when Laurent talks about his brother. If Auguste truly didn’t like him, he doesn’t think he’d have a chance with Laurent.

“Nothing.” Laurent shrugs. Then, “He reminded me you keep slaves.”

Damen swallows. Don’t bring that up, Laurent hates slavery.

He wants to smack his friend.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he says.

“I knew before he told me,” Laurent says; he’s looking at him in a way Damen can’t quite discern. “Akielos is a neighboring country, I know all about it; Auguste wanted me to be his ambassador.”

“Oh?”

“Not anymore.” Laurent studies Damen. “He wants me to negotiate with Patras instead.”

Patras? Patras isn’t half as gorgeous as Akielos; in Ios, Damen could show Laurent the city, the palace, the sea; he could take Laurent riding and make sure his skin won’t burn. Laurent could wear a chiton.

“Akielos is better,” Damen says.

Laurent snorts. “Of course you think so.” He pushes himself off the pillar and pours himself a glass of water from the tray on the table at the corner of the room, offering another one to Damen. “Why is he mad at you, then? Auguste.”

Damen says, “I told him I wanted to court you.”

Laurent freezes with his glass halfway to his mouth.

He stares at Damen, who continues because he’s beginning to panic, thinking he’s said the wrong thing. “Of course, if you say no, I would not pursue the matter further, it’s - before, we were getting close, and I thought we could never develop a relationship because if I bought out your contract from Auguste I might risk war, and now - I don’t want to mess up again. If you say no, I’ll leave you alone.”

Laurent stares for a moment longer. “I'm not saying no.”

The corner of Damen’s mouth twitches upwards. “Is that a yes, then?”

Laurent’s cheeks are turning pink. “Yes.”

Damen grins.

Things with Auguste are tense. Of course, either Damen or Laurent can break off the courtship at any time, and this early on it’s impossible to say where it will go. Damen tries to tell him that, tries to make him see that even if everything goes well and Laurent comes to Ios with him, that will still be far off; Veretian courtship has fourteen stages, and though every couple can get through it as fast or slow as they want to, it won’t take less than a year.

It doesn’t comfort Auguste at all.

Still, he doesn’t intervene. His and Damen’s friendship is strained at the moment, but he’s civil and doesn’t say a word of it to Laurent, for which Damen is grateful; of course, he knows Laurent has noticed something’s going on between him and Auguste, but he hasn’t mentioned it, so Damen hasn’t offered an explanation.

“So, Damen.” Auguste stabs a piece of meat with his fork pointedly. Shouldn’t you have gone back to Ios by now?”

“Auguste!” Queen Hennike exclaims; she and the king are overjoyed by the announcement of Laurent’s and Damen’s courtship. Laurent had told Damen that it was because King Aleron had always considered him ‘too difficult to marry off’, and though Damen hopes he’s wrong, he cannot say that he is.

“What?” Auguste asks, blinking innocently. “He’s a Crown Prince. He has a country to take care of.”

“I do,” Damen agrees, a little hurt by his friend’s eagerness to get rid of him. “And I’m leaving in two days.”

“Two days?” Laurent turns to him, surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Damen hesitates before he focuses his gaze on Laurent; he’d really meant for this to be more private. “I - wanted to ask if you’d consider coming with me.” Auguste’s head snaps towards him, and his eyes narrow. Damen continues hesitantly. “For a few weeks. I could show you Ios, and the ocean, and-”

“Laurent doesn’t like the ocean,” Auguste interrupts, glaring at him.

“No,” Laurent says, slowly. “I’ve never seen it. I can’t know whether or not I like it.”

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” Damen is baffled; he can’t imagine having spent no time in the water that way, the waves crashing around, the near-white sand beneath his feet; it’s as close to heaven as Damen thinks it can get.

“No, and he doesn’t need to,” Auguste says defensively. “Because he’s staying here. Right, Laurent?”

“Auguste, you can’t make this choice for your brother,” queen Hennike says gently.

“He’s going,” Aleron says, looking at his son through narrowed eyes.

“You can’t make this choice for your son, either,” Hennike says with more force.

“Laurent wants to stay here-” Auguste begins, glaring at his father, and Damen leans back; he sort of wishes he were back in Ios already.

“Laurent wants to go-”

“Or,” Laurent says, icily. “Laurent wants to make this choice for himself.” Both Auguste and Aleron turn to look at him. “And I want privacy while I do it.”

He pushes his chair back with a loud scrape and leaves the room.

“Lau-” Auguste’s face has turned guilty, and he stands up after his brother, but the door slams.

Damen hesitates; should he follow?

“Don’t worry, honey,” Queen Hennike says, patting the back of his hand. “He’s not mad at you.”

She glowers at her husband and son, both of whom look down at their plates.

When Damen opens his door to find Auguste standing in front of him, he’s more than a little surprised. He’s been avoiding Damen at all costs lately, so Damen hardly expected him to seek him out.

“Auguste,” he says awkwardly. “Come in.”

Laurent is sitting on Damen’s bed, cross-legged, and when he sees his brother his eyes narrow. Auguste smiles sheepishly.

“Hey, Laurent,” he says.

Laurent raises an eyebrow. “Still plotting my life out for me, brother?”

“I told him about – well, everything,” Damen admits guiltily. “The planning, and the meetings, and – all of it. I’m sorry.”

He’d honestly taken it better than Damen expected; he’d seemed – amused, almost, and Damen had been greatly relieved; he hadn’t wanted Laurent to find out in some other way and then hate him, but Laurent hadn’t seemed very surprised at Damen’s confession, so he thinks he might’ve already known.

Auguste sighs and turns to Damen.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m here to... apologize.”

Damen shakes his head. “No, I - I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have surprised you like that-”

“It’s Laurent’s choice if he goes or not, and I have no business trying to control what he does-”

“He’s your brother, I know you’re going to miss him-”

“I will, but I know you make him happy, and you really like him, and-”

“I’m right here,” Laurent interrupts, looking disbelievingly at them; they both ignore him.

“Auguste, our friendship means a lot to me,” Damen says honestly. “I would never want you to hate me over this-”

“Damen, I could never hate you,” Auguste says, surprised. “You’re one of my best friends.”

“You’re one of my best friends, too,” Damen says, voice choked. He pulls Auguste into a fierce hug, and Auguste hugs him back tightly.

“Was that a declaration of love?” Laurent asks, lounging on Damen’s bed with great interest. “Because it sounded like one.”

Again, they ignore him, pulling away and clapping each other on the back.

“I’m glad we’re alright again,” Damen says honestly.

“Me too,” Auguste says.

“If you leave me for my brother, family dinners will become very uncomfortable,” Laurent says mildly, and finally Auguste and Damen turn to him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Laurent.” Auguste grins.

“Yeah, we’d run away, never to return,” Damen says.

Laurent rolls his eyes and Auguste lets go of Damen, stepping closer to his brother, smacking his leg lightly.

“Hey,” he says. “I wanted to apologize to you, too. I know I – meddle, sometimes.”

Laurent snorts. “Sometimes?”

“A lot of the time,” Auguste amends, grinning a little.

Laurent shakes his head.

“I don’t forgive you,” he mumbles begrudgingly.

“Come on,” Auguste whines. “You can’t stay mad at me, I tried to fix it!”

Laurent looks at him disbelievingly. “You meddled more, how would that fix anything?”

“I was trying to un-meddle what I meddled in!” Auguste exclaims.

“Auguste, that makes no sense.”

Auguste sighs dramatically. “Fine,” he says, mock-resigned. “Don’t forgive me. But then you’re forcing me to take necessary measures.”

“What?” Damen asks, confused, because Laurent glares at his brother.

“Don’t you dare-” he begins, but is interrupted when a loud huff is forced out of him when Auguste drapes himself across him, lying there, motionless. “Get off me, Auguste, you’re heavy!”

“No, I can’t,” Auguste says, voice muffled by the sheets. “You’ve wounded me. I’m dead.”

“I’ll wound you for real,” Laurent threatens, trying to push him off. It doesn’t work.

“No, you won’t,” Auguste says. “You’ll forgive me because I’m your brother, and you love me, and I won’t get off you until you do.”

Laurent glares at him and begins pinching his sides, laughing when Auguste squirms and yelps.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” he exclaims, desperately trying to get away from Laurent’s hands.

“Is it?” Laurent asks, smirking, continuing to poke and pinch at Auguste’s sides until he falls off the bed and onto the floor with a groan.

“Treason,” Auguste tells him from the floor. “You’ve committed treason.”

Laurent looks down at him over the edge of the bed.

“Sure.” His smile softens, and he rolls his eyes fondly. “I forgive you.”

Auguste grins. “Thank you.”

“Now get out.” Laurent waves a hand at him.

“Why?” Auguste asks, frowning.

Laurent cocks an eyebrow. “Because I want to make out with Damen and I really don’t think you want to be here for that.”

“Oh, gross.” Auguste shudders and stands up in a panicked flail. “Disgusting, Laurent. Goodbye.”

Laurent laughs as Auguste flees from the room.

“I definitely want to be here for that,” Damen says dumbly, because the moment Laurent said ‘I want to make out with Damen’ his brain stopped working.

Laurent grins and rolls his eyes. “Do you plan to kiss me from over there?”

Damen steps closer to the bed, and when he’s within arm’s reach, Laurent grabs him by the front of his chiton and pulls him closer.

“It’ll only be a month, Auguste.” Laurent rolls his eyes when Auguste hugs him yet again.

“Only a month!” Auguste exclaims. “Only a month? I’ll miss your birthday!”

“We’ll celebrate it when I get back,” Laurent tells him. “I promise.”

“Fine, fine,” Auguste says, finally letting him go. “Alright. But you better come back.”

“You know I will,” Laurent says softly.

Damen steps behind him, smiling. Nikandros, next to him, is not smiling. In fact, he looks like he’s dreading the trip.

“Are you ready?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Laurent’s waist and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Laurent nods. “Yes.”

“I’m not,” Auguste says.

Laurent snorts. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Unlikely,” Auguste disagrees.

Damen grins and pulls his friend into a hug, which Auguste returns reluctantly.

“Fine,” he says. “Leave. But write if anything happens.”

“Oh, I will,” Nikandros says. “Believe me. I won’t be able to stand these two alone.”

“Oh, Kyros Nikandros, I thought you were looking forward to spending time with me,” Laurent says, voice sticky sweet. He leans closer to Nik, smiling up at him and fluttering his lashes mockingly.

“Damen,” Nik says, seriously. “Keep him away from me.”

Laurent bursts out laughing.

“He’ll terrorize the palace,” Nik complains, signaling wildly at Laurent.

“Don’t worry,” Laurent says, voice full of mirth. “I’ll make sure to keep a spot open to terrorize you specifically.”

And he gets into the carriage without another word.

Nikandros glares at Damen.

“If you have no Kyros of Delpha in a month,” he says threateningly. “It’ll be your fault.”

Damen laughs.

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

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#lamen #captive prince #fanfic #mine #commissions

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satanscat999 · 4 years

Note

Dom!Asmo and F!MC 9, 11, 24 please???? Would you be willing to also have MC restrained?

Hi Nonnie!! I finished your fic!!

Warning: THIS IS SMUT! There are toys, rough sex, punishment, and a very possessive demon.

Lust’s Possession

You slam your locker shut, it was the end of the day and you were ready to go home. You turn to see Mammon leaning up against the locker next to yours, “Hey there Darlin’.” You smile up at him, “Hey.” You meet his ocean blue gaze, “You free sometime soon, I got two tickets to a concert and no one to go with.” You reach over and fuss with his jacket, “Depends on when but I’m sure I can make room in my schedule for you.” He beams, moving to put some hair behind your ear, “It’s a date then.” You give him a hug and he walks off with a wink. You hear a sweet voice coming from behind you, “Hey, Y/n!” You turn around and see Asmo, his honey colored eyes have a dangerous look in them, but his voice is as sweet as ever. Before you get a chance to say hi back, his lips are on yours and your back is against the lockers. He kisses you posessively until you're breathless. He pulls back keeping you trapped beneath him, “I bet you think you’re real cute letting Mammon put his hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.” He growls directly into your ear, so the remaining demons around don’t hear him. Your heartbeat quickens, he saw your exchange with Mammon, you know you’re in for it now. He grabs your hand and drags you back to his room.

As soon as his door closes and is locked, he growls, “Strip and lay on the bed on your back, legs open, arms above your head.” Leaving no room for argument in his voice, stance, or eyes. All explanations and excuses die in your throat and you obey him. He walks over to you as you lay down on the bed, “Did you forget you who owns you?” He unfurls his demon form. He chuckles as you squirm, “Oh, regret it now?” He secures you in place, “Maybe, if I punish you it’ll help you to remember who you belong to next time.” You test the binds when he turns his back to get a toy, you’re stuck. He comes back with his favorite vibrator when he’s punishing you, nipple clamps, a ring gag, and a blind fold. He walks over to you and secures the blind fold, throwing you into pitch darkness, and nipple clamps in place. You feel the vibrator at your lips, “Lick.” He commands. You do, you make sure that there is so much saliva on it, knowing where he’s putting it and how he’s putting it in. He secures the gag in place and you lose him to the void around you until you hear the vibrator turn on and feel weight by your feet. He starts teasing your soaked folds and then jams the vibrator in, hitting your spot making you scream around the gag. You hear his dark chuckle as he retreats from the bed, “Now. You are not to cum until I allow you too.” He runs a hand up your body, “I will return in a little bit, I had plans before you decided to forget who your owner is.” You hear his door close and you are left alone with a vibrator buried in your core, drool already dripping down your chin, and the command to not cum.

After who knows how long, you hear the door open again and a delighted squeal, “You can follow direction.” He must come over to you as you feel him push the vibrator into you further and turn up the vibrations, “I have to prep you for the rest of your punishment.” You can hear him shed his clothes and come over, “Have you learned your lesson?” You nod vigorously, still unable to talk. He gently caresses your cheek, “Hmm, You have been like this for a while...” He releases you from the binds and removes your gag and blindfold, but you don’t dare speak, “You better start groveling, sweetheart.” You scramble to your knees and start begging for forgiveness, though with how you’re sitting the vibrator gets pushed further. “Please forgive me, Master.” You start, “I promise I will never do that ever again. You are the only master I could ever hope to serve.” The words just pour out of your mouth. He glares down at you with honey colored eyes glowing pink with his sin. His demon form unfurls in front of your eyes again, and this time he sheds his clothes, “Fine.” His bat-like wings flair out, “Just this once. Now, head down, ass up.” You do as he says and wait for him. He climbs behind you and runs a hand over a cheek, then spanks it hard. You jolt and the sudden pain. He dips his fingers into your juices running down your leg and he must taste it, “Mmm, Darling, even though you’ve been very naughty, you taste delicious.” He pulls out the vibrator and sets it on the bed, turning it off. You whine needily from the emptiness, which earns another smack on the ass, “You needy whore. I haven’t done anything to you yet and you’re already whining.” He soothes your angry skin, “Now, when I start fucking you, I want you to be so loud, the castle will hear just how good you’re being fucked.” All you get out is “yes master” before he jams into you. “Oh! Master, please let me cum. You feel so good, let me milk you dry.” You nearly scream from the pleasure of finally having him inside of you. He grabs your neck, pulling you flesh against him, “I don’t care how good it feels, you’d better not cum until I tell you too.” He snarls, nibbling on your ear. He takes his free hand and wraps it around your waist making it easier for him to control your movements. He starts thrusting into you, each one long and hard, reaching parts of you that you didn’t even realize he could reach. Moaning loudly at his every thrust, you manage to say, “Please let me cum, Master.” You start begging again, hoping to finally get relief. He bends you back over on all fours and continues to pound into you, “If you can hold off...” He moans, “Just a little longer. Then I will let you cum. We can cum together.” You manage another yes master through the moans as his thrust become shorter and more frantic. He moans again, “Let them hear who you belong to, Y/n.” You can feel him twitch inside of you, “Now cum.” You scream his name as you see stars from cumming so hard and he lets out a near scream as he empties himself into you.

After a minute, he pulls out of you and pulls you to his chest, “We can have a nice bath after a nap.” He starts stroking your hair, “You did so well today, my darling. I promise I will reward you next time.” You just nod and drift off into the world of sleep, wrapped up in the safety of his arms. The last thing you hear is him purring praises into your ear.

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #aksdjf;alksdjf #Yes please

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lovehotelreservation · 4 years

Note

HELLO CHELL! It's my time as a Sylvain stan to make my summer comeback! (ㆁᴗㆁ✿) [왜 예쁜 날 두고 가시나 ? // Why are you leaving a beautiful woman like me behind? - SUNMI] Everyone in the idol community knew that you had a messy breakup with Sylvain (who cheated on you). And your amazing break up song was the comeback you needed. But now you have to dance the song with Sylvain on stage (think Taemin&Sunmi's dance) at an awards show! Things are SUPER tense in the practice rooms. Who knows what can happen?

BLESS U ETERNALLY FOR THIS GODLY PROMPT ANON I STAN U 4EVER AND LOOK FORWARD TO UR NEXT COMEBACK

HKFLAHFKA THIS ENDED UP SO HONKIN ANGSTILY HONRY 4GIVE ME

I HOPE U ENJOY!!!

It was going through the motions.

The twist of your hips, every facial expression to punctuate each melodious word that was meant to come out from your lips, your feet across the polished wooden floor based on muscle memory rather than the beat of the song.

So many months dedicated to perfecting and performing this exact choreography.

It was why you could run through the song’s dance with your eyes closed, as you were doing now.

However, given your upcoming appearance upon the bigger, grander stage of the esteemed Fódlan Awards show, a mere reiteration of your established for one of the biggest singles in your career thus far was not enough.

Not even an extended, remixed cut of your song was going to be enough to appease the audience.

As told by the higher executives at your record label.

You had to do something different.

Daring.

“We’re supposed to be in sync you know.”

Your eyes fluttered open.

And then, ever reluctantly, traveled up to a pair of twinkling brown irises, a cheeky grin, and a wild head of ginger red hair that never failed to seize attention.

Even given the circumstances, he still had it in him to sound so carefree.

Tall and gorgeous, broad shoulders that stretched out a short-sleeved white shirt that revealed toned arms and clung to a well-defined and chiseled torso, charming and captivating.

He was the idol that took the industry by storm with his talent and a subsequent controversy.

He was the man who once cradled your heart before allowing it to plummet to the ground.

He was Sylvain and he was to share the stage with you to perform the very song you penned in lieu of his unfaithfulness.

There was too much money behind his success. Your record label had to get him back in the good grace of the public, hence the ‘special’ arrangement for your performance, your feelings be damned.

And it was those forsaken feelings that made just simply looking at him too hard to bear.

Still, rather than humoring him, you only scoffed while continuing your routine: the both of you had to mirror one another’s movements, and you absolutely hated how his body continued to manage with remaining perfectly in sync with yours even if you attempted to slow or quicken each of your motions.

“If you’ve got time to talk while we’re supposed to be practicing, we can end this right here.”

His grin still remained in place, even as the shine in his eyes dwindled ever so slightly.

“I hear ya, I hear ya.”

The slowed music of the extended cut of your song’s chorus played, signaling for when it was time the two of you would point at one another before facing out to where the audience would be.

But rather than turn himself or allow you to do the same, he simply took a step forward, eliminating the space between you to grasp your wrist.

His lips were still quirked into a smile, but the words he then spoke were tinged with gruff melancholy. “You know how I am—I can’t ever appreciate a good thing even when it’s in front of me.”

Immediately, you tried to draw your hand back, but the hold that his hand--so much larger compared to yours--refused to offer any escape.

“Don’t you even start, you bastard--!” You lashed out, finding the sob that had been fighting to come loose from your lips beginning to viciously claw its way from the bottom of your throat. Not wanting to lose face in front of him, you were prepared to storm out from the practice room. Whether right over to your manager to demand once again to have a different dance partner, or outside to hail a taxi--anywhere was better than to share the same space as him.

He didn’t even flinch from what you said, the look in his eyes remorseful as it was determined.

“Call me whatever you like. Make more songs to let the whole world how I fucked up. I’ll take it—” One more step closer towards you was taken while the tone in his voice was resolute in its desperation. “--lose my whole career over it. If it means you’ll take me back, I’ll grovel right on stage when we perform.”

To cry from anger or to cry that there was a tug at your heart strings from his determination to patch things up.

Vehemently, you shook your head, again while attempting to break free from his grip.

“Embarrass me like that and I’ll never forgive you--!”

Your wrist was freed.

But your body was immediately seized into an embrace while his lips planted right onto yours.

The scent of his favorite cologne, the softness of his mouth, the gentle heat of his body.

How you’ve missed them so as you found yourself returning his kiss, the familiarity you tried so hard to escape from lulling you immediately back in.

Your mouths soon parted but Sylvain kept you near while he brought his hand to cradle your cheek, his voice soft in a murmur, “So is there a chance that there’s room for forgiveness?”

The word ‘forgiveness’ suddenly had your mind reeling back to the horrid morning of tabloid magazines with pictures of him spotted on a late night rendezvous with a model he did a recent photoshoot with, social media ablaze as the idol community bore witness to the drama unfolding, your phone bombarded with texts and calls from management, family and friends, and most of all, him.

A sentence tumbled out from your lips, one you’ve been meaning to tell him to his face for a long while.

“I hate you.”

Once more, he didn’t flinch. He just kept you near and within his reach as he spoke,

“Do you hate this then?”

Sylvain was kissing you again, longingly, urgently. You were squirming in his arms all the while melting in his embrace, all the while his hands began to roam around your body, seeking out the sensitive points on your figure that he devoted himself to memorizing during your relationship.

He was just too good.

And this only made things worse.

“Let me make it up to you, let me make it up to you...”

Those were the words he urged in a husky murmur as you found yourself carefully laid down on the floor with him hovering right on top of you. Clothes began to scatter across the floor of the practice room as he proceeded to devote nothing but reverence to your body by the earnest suckles of his mouth on your nipples to the fluid circling of his thumb over your clit. The playback of your track had since finished, with the sound of your moans mingling with his amidst the noise of skin meeting skin in brisk slaps.

Your bodies were pressed together, joined. He was sinking the thick girth of his cock in and out of you, at first slow and indulgent but only driven to pick up his tempo with the sound of your mewls while your legs hugged around his waist while your nails scratched along his ivory shoulders.

“That’s right. Scratch me up, call me a lowlife--get it out of your system. Just take me back is all that I’m begging here,” he hissed, shuddering as he planted his mouth right onto yours for another kiss, relieved by the lack of resistance from your end.

Together.

Together as you were entangled within one another.

Together as you both soon reached climax while desperately clinging onto each other’s bodies.

Together as the two of you laid on the floor, Sylvain holding you close and tight, his grip so firm as though any give would have you slip away from him once again. Tears slipped from your eyes, immediately wiped by his lips kissing them away as he murmured a litany of apologies.

For so long, you’ve done all you could to move on from the broken love that you both shared.

And here you were, going through the motions once again.

#sylvain jose gautier #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #reader insert #Hoechella #super freaknasty writing #Fic #Anonymous #management will return in a queue minutes

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

Eros & Psyche: SOMY drabble

Billy Hargrove x Evie Fenny: Whump with a Happy Ending Drabble

~Evie contemplates her past relationship after getting together with Billy. ((No real fic spoilers, it’s no secret that Billy & Evie are soulmates & Endgame. Just some extra words for them to touch.)) TW: Talk of past grooming/Abusive student& teach relationship.

Whew, I wrote something, guys. Lol named is sorta after an existing chp bc I'm shameless. xoxo askbox open. Goodnight! :)))

He’s perfect.

Heaven carved her a prince from all her favorite fairy tales. Dash of charming. Sprinkle of classical good looks. A darling smile. Enough to melt any girl. Evangeline had no chance.

Fredrick always included Evie in his life. Well, the part of it no one else was involved in. That counted. She told herself it did.

Hawkins couldn’t know how much he loved her. She was sure that truly ached him.

She was pretty sure.

Fredrick included Evie in what was under his mask. She told herself that was what mattered most of all. His true self and it was bared. All hers and hers alone.

She told herself.

Evie was telling herself lots of things these days. Fredrick called her a classic over-thinker. She didn’t need to think, she had him. He’d guide her along. Being wise and experienced of course. All she needed to do was let go and trust him.

But, he was perfect.

Fredrick took her to parties with other thirty year olds. Always held her hand. Said the right thing. Brought her under one arm. Introduced her as if he was thrilled and proud she was with him. Showed her off like a new designer watch. Fredrick liked to buy Evie designer things too in lace.

Things that made for a better pose in cotton sheets. Pictures she claimed she was too shy to let him take.

He’d press a tight smile. Telling her it was enough to have her trapped in his thoughts.

The, he’d unzip his pants. The sound prickled under her skin.

“This is Evangeline,” he boasted at parties, “my girl.”

Men and women extended their hands. Fussed over her. She just looked so youthful. She must have secrets.

“For now,” Fredrick said in the car once, “just tell anyone who asks that you’re nineteen.” He smiled and caressed her cheek. Fredrick always said the right thing. “You’re too beautiful. I love you so much.”

Slowly, he unzipped his pants.

All Evie wanted to do was please him. See that smile. See the lights behind it because he was hers and she was a moth drawn to them. Fredrick liked most that she was his too. He came to her upon a deathly white horse with a silken, red cape upon his back. Bought her lace and flowers.

Fed her only a certain amount and took plates away before she was finished.

“There’s this silk nightie I want to buy you, but it’s just a smidge too small. Couple pounds should do it. Not that I think you need to lose it.” He cared so much. Evie welled and drank her cool water down. Swallowed the ice cubes when he went to the kitchen.

They drank quite a bit. He liked her swaying and loose. Not alert. Not overthinking too much. Cause he cared. More than anything.

Evie always said no to coke lines. Yes to shots. Yes to the occasional pill that lit shit up inside her. Let her see the night sky in living color.

Fredrick kept close. He always did. Especially if other men approached her. His arm pulled her back into his orbit. One sharp snap. Another prickle that made her skin pulse.

Europa trapped circling Jupiter and its great red storms. Clinging desperately maybe cause she’s scared and she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t have anywhere to go and no planet will love her or hold her like her Jupiter.

Fredrick could storm too. Could get snappy. Grip her too hard. Leave marks she had to hide from her mother and classmates. It’s all passion. That’s what he said. He loved fierce and unyielding. Just like a prince would, they’re supposed to love hard.

Evie’s terrified to disappoint him. Terrified to leave the narrative because who would she be without it? She figured that was normal, growing up with the same dynamic in her household. Children wetting the bed cause their parents build these anxieties into them. Phantoms that never leave.

“Letting everyone down would be my greatest unhappiness.” She often repeated that to the mirror. Repeated it when Fredrick was slamming things around. Pretending he’s fine until she’s crawling to unzip his pants and then all is forgiven.

Evie loved being forgiven. Gentle pats and warm embraces into the night. Fingers to swipe her loose tears. Fredrick gave her everything she needed.

Even if he was the one telling her she needed it.

Prince Charming knew to force his kisses and wake the princess. Now she owed a debt. He knew she needed saving from her tower or dragon. She was too helpless to decide her own path. He knew that she had to love him in return to break the curse. She doesn’t get a choice, it’s destiny.

Evie believed in destiny when she met Fredrick. He certainly murmured it into her ear enough. Hushed tones that made her feel cradled. Made her feel found. Made her float.

But, she can’t tell people, “This is Fredrick, my prince.”

Once he screamed at her for even signing a little heart above the “i” in her name during class. All because he cares. Because he’s the prince who knew better. Because no one would ever understand them.

Maybe that was why she loathed Billy upon meeting him that windy autumn day.

Billy Hargrove was the exact opposite. He never pretended to know better. Not as far as Evie’s soul was concerned. Evie didn’t grovel. Didn’t beg his forgiveness for the slightest misstep or incorrect thought. They nipped at each other, but it was an equal exchange.

Billy’s not a prince. He didn’t try to be either.

He didn’t shake her hand when they met. Not until Neil made him. He doesn’t always hold doors. Doesn’t constantly have to have Evie under his arm. Under his eye.

Especially doesn’t start slamming things when she laughs at Tommy’s stupid jokes or shares her drinks with Steve. He didn’t tell her she couldn’t hang out with Heather or Carol without him. Didn’t steer her from her mother or friends. He also didn’t pry for secrets out of mistrust.

He doesn’t care what she does as long as she isn’t getting herself into deep shit. Without him. His words. He’s not perfect and he doesn’t try to be.

Billy drove like shit. He smoked too much. He got into fights. He could be a total sourpuss grump, but he doesn’t grab Evie to leave bruises over it.

He fucked hard though, he always made sure Evie got off. Never unzips unprompted. Girls hit on him and he says that he’s seeing someone. Easy enough. Sometimes gesturing to Evie if she’s in the room. No need to bother her with pointless shit.

They were always aware of each other even if they didn’t interact. Something magical there neither could place.

Billy knew things Fredrick didn’t care to remember about Evie as well. How she’s a talented roller skater. What she liked on her cheeseburger. Her favorite movie snacks. Her order when they grab Chinese. The articles of clothing that always comforted her on bad days. How to gauge her mood by the song she’d hum or the book in her hand.

How she tapped the rhythm of songs she wrote into flesh and hard surfaces. How she wanted to turn the radio up when her favorite song was on, but politely doesn’t always. Billy does it for her.

He doesn’t comment when she eats and doesn’t care what she wears out or to bed.

He’s often trying to piece together the bits of songs he hears her humming and creating. She’ll share them with him one day, he won’t make her.

Billy’s not a prince. He’s probably beaten up a few in his day. But, he remembers. He pays attention. He lets Evie exist as her own soul and take up her own needed space.

They’re two equal stars twinkling pleasantly in the same shared constellation.

There’s plenty he didn’t tell her. About himself. About his life. Things he wanted to share, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe one day. She needed to trust him enough in that light. And she did.

Before getting together, Evie thought of Billy too often when she was with Fredrick. Especially when she was under him. Counting the seconds before he finished with her. She hadn’t been warmed up enough and her prince was hurting her with his passion.

She wondered about asking him to stop. If he would. If he’d ignore her and chase his end. If he’d bruise her wrists again. A lot could be said about Billy, but he’d stop.

He wouldn’t ignore this beautiful star he’s so well attuned to. Billy wouldn’t hurt Evie and call it passion. He’d own his shit.

But, they tell her Billy isn’t the prince and the princess always was supposed to end up with her prince. Billy was a lone, glittering god with his own marble pedestal. Unobtainable. Eyes that watch the mortals below.

Maybe he’ll grace them with his presence and a fresh set of shiny arrows. Messy, little Eros with a laundry list of issues and vices he’ll never outrun. Evie didn’t mind to carry a few vices if he’d watch hers too. She was just a mortal girl with dreams higher than stars could go. Piled with dead weight as Fredrick collapsed into her. Smothering her.

And Evie’s first thought was always the shine of Billy’s eyes blaring into her after Fredrick dropped her at the end of Cherry Land so she could walk home. Defeated and wanting for more. They broke her heart.

Fredrick pushed down. Crushed her until Evie was gasping herself awake in her own bed. Eons later after she left him. After he shattered her already.

“Squirming more than usual.” A voice in the pillows next to her muttered. Billy groaned, turning over like he was annoyed.

Evie knew he wasn’t. She didn’t feel her heart give an unpleasant clench like she’d upset him. One arm slung over her stomach as Billy stretched back out on his front, facing her. A barely there glow from the moon trickled between the curtains showing his lashes fluttering.

“Just a dream.” Evie reached out and traced a line into his shoulder. Let her finger trail up to tap his nose. Made him scrunch and look sorta adorable.

“Well, it’s over.” Billy closed his eyes. Nestled into her heat. “Try rolling for another.”

“I like this better.” She caught his lip twitching up. Billy remained silent for a while there. Almost lulling back to sleep. He shifted up. Revived Evie with a simple, cathartic kiss. Mapping more across her cheek as lazy as can be.

They still felt carefully packaged. Billy had a way with careless affection that was still so striking and beautiful. Flaming arrows through her heart.

They don’t hurt. So few things hurt with Billy. Evie liked to think she returned that.

His arm tightened.

“I’ll roll this time.”

And Evie could let him without sacrificing her own agency. Her own narrative.

Fingers reached up to draw select gold curls aside. She decided princes were small and overrated. Billy had wings and he had light and he had a swelter of carefully exposed nerves that he trusted Evie to pluck. A heart he let her guard. He wouldn’t ask but she’d give that back.

Love cannot exist without soul. Without trust.

Evie pushed up to meet his oncoming kiss. Brought him back down to touch the soft earth with her. Where they felt safe together.

She realized it then as Billy shifted up to see her there. Fredrick never made her feel safe, he just used her to save himself. Sunk his teeth in to suck her dry of vitality so he could have it.

She didn’t ask Billy if he trusted her. Didn’t tell him in this moment that she trusted him. That was destiny. Not the draining of your soul until you’re forced to give it over.

Sometimes it was just knowing the obvious placement of stars. Glittery dust might sprinkle delicately over them.

“Let’s roll later,” Evie nudged her head into his, “always time for dreaming. But, I think I want to be wide awake right now. Hope that’s not too disappointing.” Hands shifted around his shoulders. A fuller smile crossed and Billy matched it. Blue eyes glinting almost iridescent. He hummed in thought. Seemed to agree.

“Evangeline,” he sounded out with some lazy amusement, “you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried, you know that?” Billy settled himself against her. Continued to map his euphoric paths. Stroking her cheek and hair. Sparking. Hushing. “Hope you know that much, Angel.”

“I know, Billy,” she sighed out to the forgiving cloak of night, “I do.”

#whump #Billy x Angel #billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #writing #mine #Angel Fenny

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

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Now I’m Here

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys! And once more I am back with the start of another story in the Robyn and Taron series. Thank you for all the love, supports, comments and wonderfully positive response to Robyn and Taron. It honestly makes my heart swell with such love and makes me write and write and write some more! Hope you all enjoy the new story :)

“Saying 'I'm sorry' is saying 'I love you' with a wounded heart in one hand and your smothered pride in the other.”

If Taron thought Robyn flying to New York to confront him about his behaviour and call him out in front of the crew as he filmed for the new Kingsman movie was soul destroying, it was nothing to compared to what his mother had said to him when she had found out what happened and what he did. As humiliated as he had been by his actions as Robyn bought him to task over them, Tina has been utterly ashamed of him and made him feel like he was a little boy again as she chastised him for a full half an hour on the phone. He hadn’t been able to get a word in to explain to his mam that he and Robyn had talked through everything in person and once again on the phone as he rang her the next day, the two also speaking in a very civil manner, each taking their turns to explain how they were feeling, getting everything out in the air.

“You get on that phone to her Taron and you apologise once more.”

“Mam we have already…”

“I don’t care Taron. I couldn’t care if you have apologised to her twenty times, you will do it again. I raised you with respect and manners and you will not treat someone like that ever again. Robyn, of all people Taron. The woman who has done more for you than anyone else in this world and who had been nothing but a wonderful support for you and for you to just treat her so atrociously. I swear Taron, if you were near me, I would actually shake the stupid out of you. I am so mad at you.”

“I know mam.” Taron cringed as he took another verbal beating from a woman he loved.

“You have better think of every possible way to grovel to her.”

“I will mam.”

“And I need her address so I can send her some flowers to apologise for you on my behalf and you had better refund her the money for her flights.”

“I tried, but she wouldn’t let me and I have already sent the flowers mam.”

“Well do it again and again Taron because what you did is something that will take more than one simple bunch of flowers.”

Getting the speech from his mam in person was so much worse than on the phone and when he arrived home for Christmas, Tina actually clipped him across the back of the head, refusing to look at him for the first day he was home until she had calmed down, Taron taking refuge with his sisters for the day, the three of them sitting down to watch some Christmas movie’s together.

“And you are sure you got her work all sorted Taron.” Tina asked him the day before New Year’s Eve when she could finally sit and properly talk with him about his filming and his time so far in New York, now that most of the Christmas excitement had died down, but of course she couldn’t steer away from the subject of how he had treated Robyn.

“It was on the day she flew home mam. I got the email sent to her so she could send it out to the parents of the children in her creche, and it calmed everything down.”

“Do you realise how lucky you are Taron? She could have just walked away from you. She didn’t need to fly to New York to sort you out.”

“I know.” He replied quietly looking into his cup of tea that had gone cold. He never had the chance to drink it as his mam drilled him at the dining room table with more questions followed by another lecture.

“Never let that woman walk away from you, you understand me?”

“I do mam.”

“And you supposedly love her.”

Taron groaned, running his hands over his face. “Mam please don’t.”

“She is almost too good for you Taron.”

“Oh, I know that alright.”

Tina sighed and reached over to take his hand in hers. He could see the regret in his face and his eyes were a little watery. “What time is she getting here.”

“Tomorrow around twelve.”

“You promise me Taron Egerton, that you treat her like a princess the whole time she is with you, you hear me? Robyn asks you to jump and you answer with how high and the same when you go back to Ireland with her.”

“I will mam. I promise.”

Tina wrapped her arms around her son, giving him a long hug. “I know you love her Taron but there is only so much a woman can take, even someone as special to you as Robyn. You step out of line again and she will walk without question.”

Taron hugged his mam hard, appreciating how she rubbed his back. “I know mam.”

“You have no idea how lucky you are Taron.”

“Robyn is my lucky Irish charm.” Leaning into his mam, Taron closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort she gave to him. “I know how lucky I am.”

He had breathed such a sigh of relief when the newspaper had retracted the article two days after it was printed, apologising to him and Robyn for the printing it and was even more thankful that nothing at all had been seen on any media platform that Robyn had come to see him in New York, nobody knowing she had been there except the crew. He had been so appreciative to Lyndsey for everything she had done for him and how hard she had worked to make his mess right. It had been a hard couple of hours for him after Robyn left New York and he quickly worked with Lyndsey to get the letter composed for her for her work. He had phoned Robyn to tell her and it was a quick call as she was only off a plane and on her way to work but he had promised to call her once her shift ended.

That phone call, which became a skype call, although had ended on a cheery note, had been incredible hard for the two of them as they hashed out every disagreement and annoyance they had with one another, knowing that if they did not clear the air immediately, they would never get back to the way they were with each other. After three hours of hard-hitting conversation, tears and emotional admittance, Taron only realised more how unfair he had been with Robyn and his accusations, finally fully understanding how she was really feeling about the media and fans opinions of her and it hurt him when she was truly honest with him. His strong Robyn, suddenly became insecure about those trolls online and he was so broken inside with how she had been hiding how the comments really made her feel, realising that her reactions when he called her were to protect him so he wouldn’t be feeling so upset about the whole thing. Once they had talked and talked and talked some more, the air was well and truly clear between them and they had agreed to keep their compromise they made on the beach weeks before as well as being completely honest and open with each other, both agreeing that their friendship meant way too much to each other to give up on so easily.

Taron had found it difficult to sleep for a few nights after the phone call, his dreams haunted with scenes of him arriving at Robyn’ house begging her to forgive him but she slammed the door in his face and each night he woke in a cold sweat, his heart hammering hard in his chest but they settled down a week later when he asked Robyn a question during a happier phone call.

“So, do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“Ugh I hate New Year’s Eve Taron. I normally just order some take out, watch the count down in my pj’s and then go to bed.”

“Would you like to come to Aber and ring in the new year with me?”

He giggled like a school girl when she accepted his invite and even more so when she proposed one of her own.

“You want to fly back with me and go to a hurling game in Dublin?”

With the way the holidays fell, Robyn didn’t have to be back in work until the sixth of January and Taron didn’t fly back to New York until the tenth so between them they made a plan where each would visit the other in their respective homes and spend some time together and Taron was very much looking forward to it. With their rocky few days long past them, he was excited to just see Robyn and take out her for a few drinks with his friends, putting their best foot forward, hoping to get a few proper cuddles in too.

On the morning of the thirty-first of December, Taron was walking around like it was Christmas morning all over again. He had a wonderful few days at home and once his mam stopped looking at him like she wanted to murder him, the atmosphere at home was so light and happy and he was thoroughly enjoying his time off. Once the air was cleared with Robyn, and even though he hadn’t been sleeping great initially, he was back on his game at work and Matthew was thrilled with the progress the movie was making, delighted with how much they had filmed and how they were ahead of schedule once they wrapped up for Christmas break. Taron hadn’t planned anything at all for Robyn’s visit, except their night out with his friends and was just going to let the day plan itself. The only thing he was under orders to do was bring Robyn to his childhood home for a visit, his sisters stupidly excited to see her again but he had already explained to them, that their visit was going to be short with no sleep over. Taron selfishly wanted Robyn completely to himself at his home before they flew to hers after New Year’s Day.

Fluffing the pillows on his couch, he walked over to the Christmas tree to fix lights that were perfectly fine. He knew Robyn was due to arrive at his any minute and he was a belly of nerves and excitement. He bent down to adjust the present under the tree he had for her, fluffing the glitter bow out. He had asked if she wanted him to meet her at the train station but she had politely said no, deciding it was best if she arrived to his home by herself. He knew she was worried about being photographed together so was happy to let her get to him how she wanted. When it came down to it, he just wanted her there with him.

He needed these few days to run perfectly. He felt like he had so much to make up to her and prove to her and he wanted to see her smiling and hear her laughing with only tears of joy rolling down her face. Deep inside guilt still manifested for what he had done and he knew they were past it, and well past it as they had so many phone calls and laughs since but it still put him a little on edge and he needed to make sure Robyn felt at home and safe with him.

His head turned as the doorbell rang and he walked over to his front door, butterflies twirling in circles in his stomach. He opened the door and grinned widely when he saw her wrapped up in turquoise duffle coat, ocean blue scarf and hat to match.

“Hello chicken!” Taron’s smile immediately fell from his face when he realised what he said. It just came naturally to him to use her nickname but it had been the first time since New York that he had called her chicken and he didn’t know if he should and if he had already messed their few days together up. “Ahh shit Robyn, I mean, hi. I mean hello, I mean... Jesus Christ Taron…”

Robyn grinned and letting go of her case stepped forward and wrapped him up in a hug. “Hey rocketman. It is good to see you.” She gave his cheek a kiss. “And you can call me chicken.” Robyn enjoyed how Taron gave her a little tight squeeze before letting her go.

“Hey chicken.” He repeated, a wonderfully cute smile on his face. “Come on in. It is cold out there.” He stepped back and let her walk into his home, taking her case from her hands, thankful to see it was just a small case. “So, I guess hypnotherapy hasn’t work for cwtch then? He definitely can’t fit in here. Small case this time.”

Robyn smiled as she pulled off her hat and scarf. “You know, he just can’t be hypnotised no matter how many sessions he has.”

Taron laughed. “Rosie and Mari do not let their dinosaurs out of their sight and were really hoping cwtch was coming.”

“Like I told you last time. I bring cwtch here, I will never get him back and I need cuddles from cwtch every now and again.” Robyn rid herself of her coat and threw it over the back of Taron’s couch. “I like your tree. It’s pretty.” She walked over to his Christmas tree in corner beside the television.

“With extra lights too.” He said as he followed her.

“Love me some fairy lights.”

Taron grinned. “I know. So how was the flight?”

“Yeah it was good.” She turned to look at him, “You look tired. Why do you always look tired when I see you?”

A wide smile filled his lips. “Well I didn’t see my bed until very late Christmas Eve as you know and then I was up early with the girls and still haven’t recovered those hours of sleep and probably still trying to catch up on hours lost during filming too.”

Robyn reached up and gently traced the dark circles under his eyes. “You are back filming in a week. You need to rest and sleep. I suggest a nap before whatever antics you have planned for the evening.”

Taron inwardly groaned happily at the thought of taking a nap but shook his head. “I am not going to spend my time with you sleeping. I want to be able to enjoy your company. Watch some Christmas moves. Take a stroll on the beach.”

“Hmm a stroll on the beach?” She laughed when he winked at her. “Good thing I brought my bikini, isn’t it!” Turing away from him, she picked up her coat, hat, scarf and case. “I am going to go and put this stuff in the guest room. Why don’t you get us set up with a movie?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and made her way down the hall towards Taron’s guest room. She couldn’t help the smile that was fixed on her lips. She had been incredibly nervous coming to see Taron and it felt like it had been months since had seen him rather than weeks but once he opened the door and she was met with a smile, her nerves disappeared with the cold winter breeze that whirled past her outside. Leaving Taron in New York, with things somewhat unsaid and their conversation half-finished was hard for her as she was always one to see things through but their long and emotional skype call the next evening had definitely helped her talk through the truth of her feelings and Taron had finally been a wonderful confident and support to her and it healed some of her broken heart for him to actually listen to her properly. It also helped that Tina had been on the phone to her too, telling her that she had absolutely scolded Taron for his behaviour and apologised for her son. The many bunches of flowers with the thoughtful notes had made her smile as well, the ones that appeared at her work and home.

Taron had also completely kept his promise of getting Lyndsey’s help to sort her issue with the parents and once the email was circulated, Robyn could finally breathe easy in work and not be afraid to face the parents, most of them apologising to her for their rash words and when Taron’s publicist had assured her that nothing appeared in the media about her quick visit to New York, Robyn could finally sleep better at night.

His invite to come and spend New Year’s Eve with him was one she gladly accepted, happy to spend it somewhere else then her couch and she knew he was a little hesitant as he asked her, worried she was going to say no and but she countered his invite with one her own, glad she was able to do something for him too, getting two tickets for the hurling game she had asked him too. She knew their few days together were going to be a good time of proper healing for them.

She just had to remember not to let slip how much trouble she was in when Emma found out that her sick day wasn’t actually a sick day and the office door was closed for a while as Emma lectured her on the importance of her job and how she could not just swan off when she felt like it, no matter how pissed she was with Taron. Robyn had to make sure that any time she spent with Taron now had to be at the weekends or through a properly booked holiday day. Robyn knew Taron still held a lot of guilt about what had happened and as far as she was concerned the whole thing was sorted and didn’t want to tarnish his good mood by telling him just how much of a warning she had gotten for lying to her boss and going to see him.

“Hey you. What are you doing? I have a movie all set to go.” Taron sauntered into the room and sat on the bed.

“Just thinking.”

Taron looked at her. “About?”

“Stuff.” She didn’t like how his smile turned a little. “Just how glad I am here with you. We needed this.” She sat beside him on the bed and patted his knee. “I needed this. I can’t remember the last time I went out for New Year’s Eve.”

“Did I mention that it was a karaoke night?” Taron waited for the laugh and sure enough it came.

“Did you just walk yourself into our deal on purpose? And in front of your friends?”

“I thought you would get a kick out of it and you are not guaranteed to win. They are my friends.”

Robyn grinned. “Oh Taron, I don’t think I have ever looked forward to a night out as much as this one before. Just let me grab something from my case and we can go and chill out. What did you pick to watch?” Robyn stood up and lifted her case to the bed.

“A Muppets Christmas Carol.”

She smiled. “Such a good movie. I had it on tape as a kid and used to rewind and forward it to write down the words of the songs so I could learn them and sing them. There was no internet back then.” She explained when she saw his confused look. “Anyway, once I got it on DVD, I was so pissed that they got rid of the one of the songs.”

“They did? Which one.”

“The Love Is Gone. The one that Scrooges girlfriend sings on the bridge. It is not on the DVD. It was one of my favourites.” She turned away from him and opened her case.

“You don’t want to watch it now do you.”

“Of course I do. I still love that movie. ‘Light the lamp not the rat!’” She quoted. “Muppet Treasure Island is another of my favourites.”

Taron smiled and chuckled. “I have that one too.”

“The Great Muppet Caper is the best. Such a classic.”

“I do not have that one.”

“I have it on video. Never got the DVD version.” Finally pulling what she was looking for out of the case, she turned to Taron. “I am old school with my videos. Not that I can play any of them. So ready for a movie and chill out.”

“Yes please.” Taron stood up and tried to take a look to what Robyn was holding but she was hiding it behind her back. “What you got there?”

“Your Christmas present.” She replied. “Christmas present.” She repeated making sure she over pronounced on the word ‘Christmas’.

“Yours is under the tree.”

Robyn grinned. “Wanna do that first?”

With an agreement to exchange presents before they got comfortable on the couch for a few hours, they walked back to his sitting room, Robyn sitting down while Taron took her gift from under the Christmas tree. He sat down right beside her a beautiful giddy smile on his face.

“So, who goes first.” He asked.

“Rock, paper, scissors it?” She asked returning his grin.

After Taron lost the first game, he insisted they play two out of three and groaned when Robyn won again. “Definitely have the luck of the Irish on your side.”

She giggled and turned to sit crossed legged beside him, her knees touching his left hip and thigh. “I have something for you first though.”

Taron threw his hands up in the air. “What was the point of the game if you were going to go first anyway?”

Robyn felt so happy as she watched him protest and even more so that she had accepted his invite. It was so nice to be back in his company and hear him laugh and see him smile, even if his smile made the tiredness on his face more obvious. “It’s mainly for you but I get use from it too.” She handed him the gift wrapped in the bright Christmas paper.

“Do you know how many unmentionable thoughts are running through my head now Robyn?” He said as he took the present.

“Care to share some with me?” She winked, adoring how a flush filled his cheeks so easily.

Instead of answering, he concentrated on opening the present Robyn had given him, pulling the wrapping off. “Cookies!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Not just any cookies. Kilcreen’s second place white chocolate chip cookies.”

Taron had already pulled the cling film from the baked goods and pulled one out taking a bite as Robyn spoke. “Oh my God, I forgot how good these taste.” He said through his chewing. He closed his eyes and lay his head back on the couch. “Hmm yum.” He ripped another bite off with his teeth, the sweet cookie melting in his mouth. “Want some?” He asked handing her the one he was eating. His stomach dropped and he knew his cheeks blushed red as Robyn dipped her head and took a bite from the cookie he was holding in his hand. Inside he was feeling so blessed that his loving playful Robyn was back with him but her teasing actions were only increasing his fizzing feelings. Watching as she brushed crumbs from her lips, Taron ate another bite trying to keep his breathing even. It was as if their time in New York had never happened and they had just picked up with each other from when she had been in his home the last time. “You made me cookies.” He smiled breaking the last bite in two and handing her half.

“Freshly baked last night. I knew you would appreciate them.”

“So good. Thank you. You know I like your baking.”

“Yes I do.”

“Now your turn.” Taron brushed the crumbs from his hands and shirt, sweeping his hands down his thighs too. He then reached to his right and picked up the present he had for Robyn. It was wrapped in Christmas tree style of Christmas wrapping, a large gold litter bow tied the whole way around. “Merry Christmas chicken.” He said handing it over her.

“This is huge.” Commented Robyn as she took the present from him. It wasn’t any particular shape but felt squishy under her hands. “Hey did cwtch come here and you wrapped him up to give him back to me?”

Taron laughed and turned a little, moving so he sat on his left leg and could face Robyn. “I tried to convince him to come but he was having none of it.”

“It is my throw?”

“No that is in New York.”

Robyn looked over the gift to look at him. “You left the throw in New York?”

“Well yeah. I still have a month of filming to get through so left it in the apartment for when I am back.”

“No wonder you look knackered. You don’t have your throw to help you sleep.”

“No but now I have you.” The words were said before he could stop himself and he took a shaky breath, holding it a little while he waited for Robyn’s reply.

“I am sure I can find a way to help you sleep.”

Taron was so glad that Robyn went to open the present because his whole body froze for a good five seconds before he was able to breathe and move again after her comment. He had no idea what was going on but since Robyn was back in his flat, every word and movement she said and made sent a current of electricity bubbling through him and his whole face felt on fire with the blush he knew was there. He had felt these feelings many times before, their spark as they had named it but never with such ferocity before. Looking down to his hands, he saw the glitter ribbon on top of them.

“You and your fucking glitter Taron.” She growled at him before she returned to the wrapping paper, opening the sellotape and then tearing the paper off. “Taron you didn’t.” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked to her, enjoying the look of disbelief on her face. “How did… Where did you… Taron.”

Her babbling made him smile. “Well I can’t tell you that, now can I?”

“Taron.” Robyn looked to the pastel rainbow coloured Care Bear in her hands, the one she had told him about when he was at her home and had routed out all of her bears from under her bed. While he had taken to cwtch, she explained how annoyed and devastated she was that the shop wouldn’t sell her the Care Bear she had wanted to buy to add to her collection and once again he had shocked her with how he listened to her, actually finding the bear she never could. “It’s a True Heart Bear.”

“It’s the True Heart Bear.” Taron placed his hand on the bears head. “It is the one you had wanted but Tesco wouldn’t sell to you right?”

Her sudden hug, made a puff of air leave his lungs, the bear was squished very uncomfortably between them but he still chuckled as she wrapped her arms around him tightly, placing lots of kisses on his right cheek over and over again, his chuckles turning to giggles. “Robyn! Robyn!” He laughed, grinning her way as she moved away from him and taking the bear with her. “I guess you like your present.”

“You got me the bear.” Robyn looked at the cuddly Care Bear in her hands and then to Taron who had the most sweetest smile on his face, his dimples on show, his eyes bright. “Thank you Taron. Thank you so much. This is amazing. I can’t believe you found it.” She ran her fingers over the colourful star on the bears stomach and then over its rainbow fur. “Thank you.” She repeated. “Cwtch is going to have to find a new place to sit.”

“Don’t you dare move cwtch from his spot. I am glad I am going back to your home with you to make sure that doesn’t happen. Poor cwtch.”

“Well then this bear can go on my bed.”

“That is a much better idea.” Agreed Taron. “Can I have the bear for a second.”

“Sure.” Robyn handed the plush over and watched on amused and confused as Taron gave the bear a big squeeze, right up against his neck, rubbing the bear against his skin before he handed it back to Robyn. “You know I like your bed and now the bear smells like me so you won’t feel the need to take cwtch from his spot in my corner and can keep this bear with you on your bed. It will be like I am there with you.”

Robyn had to laugh to hide cough that caught in her throat and hoped the hug she gave the bear didn’t show how she quickly inhaled its fur, taking in the scent Taron had just transferred to her present. “It would be easier just to give me a bottle of your aftershave.” She returned, her face still buried in the bear.

“I will look into that for your birthday.”

She looked up from the bear. “Spoiler alert on the birthday present.” Still with one arm wrapped around the bear, she reached out to take Taron’s hand. “Thank you so much for this Taron. I don’t know how you got one but thank you. It’s perfect and I love it.”

“You are very welcome.”

With the bear sitting on her lap, she pulled out another present from behind her. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”

Taron reached over and took the gift wrapped in another ream of brightly coloured Christmas paper. “But you gave me cookies.”

“The cookies were mainly for you but for me too. This is your actual present.”

He looked down to the rectangular gift in his hands that had the shape of a small book and finding a fold of paper, ripped the wrapping off quickly. Inside was a small spiralled notebook with different shades of blue stars on the front. Taped to the front of the book in calligraphy style writing where the words ‘Taron’s Voucher Book’.

“Robyn?”

“When you open it, it will make sense.”

Doing as was suggested, Taron opened the front cover of the book and inside was a message. ‘One voucher to be used when the bearer wishes it. One voucher per transaction.’ Taron was still very confused but turned the next page and sudden realisation hit him as he read the words on the page. ‘One baking lesson of your choice.’

“You figured it out yet?” Asked Robyn grinning as she took in the faces he made as his features changed from confusion to understanding to a cheeky grin.

“Yeah I got it.” The next five pages read ‘One head massage’. The next five ‘One face massage’. “This is the massage section I take it.” He asked raising an eyebrow. ‘One shoulder massage’ covered the next five pages. “A back massage? Seriously?” He said with a little doubt in his voice when the next few pages said ‘One back massage’.

“You like my head massages. Why not up the antsy a little bit and you already have had a mini back massage from me.”

“True.” Taron turned the back massage pages over. ‘Run a bath’. “This one will have to wait until I am back at yours.” He turned the page and Robyn enjoyed the shit eating grin that filled his face “‘Wear matching outfits’. Ohh Stella is going to love this one.”

“You only get one of those.”

“Yeah I saw but I like this one better I think. ‘Wear an outfit of my choosing’. You might regret that one.”

Robyn cringed a little. “I knew I shouldn’t have put that one in.”

“‘Go to premier with me’. Really? You would do that? Even after you were so insistent on not going ever?”

“You give me the voucher, I will go with you.”

Taron flicked through the remainder of the book, grinning at some of the ones Robyn had put in, simple little ones like ‘Do a face mask together’, ‘Sing Johnny Gorilla’, ‘Free piano lesson’, ‘Free guitar lesson’, ‘Go to the movies.’, ‘Time for a Robyn cuddle’. “Robyn this is amazing. I love this idea so much.”

“I knew you would get a kick out of it but have you read the terms and conditions on the back?”

Looking a little worried, Taron flipped the notebook over. “All vouchers must be used by Taron Egerton and with Robyn Quinn and once pulled from the book a voucher cannot be replaced or re-written. There is no expiry date required for the book and can be used at Taron Egerton’s own time and choosing though for the premier, Taron Egerton must make sure Robyn Quinn has enough notice to ensure time off work if needed.” He smiled and flicked through the book, stopping when he read through the pages with the massages. “Robyn…”

“Yes,”

“When I use all of these massage pages, does that mean no more head scratches ever?”

“Did you read the fine print under the terms and conditions?”

He flicked to the back of the book again and squinting, read the small writing under the terms and conditions. “There will never be a limit to the head massages even if all the vouchers have been used.”

She enjoyed how his face lit up. “There will always be head massages Taron. I like giving them to you.”

“Thank you so much for this Robyn. It is so special and I like how they are things for me and you do to together. It means we will have to see more of each other.”

“It means we will always see each other as often as we can. I know sometimes your life can be hectic and stressful and I wanted to give you something that you can use whenever you want when you need just a second to breathe and chill out and relax without asking for it. Just tear out what you need and we will do it, together.” He moved towards her and stretched closer her way and she accepted his hug, rubbing his back. “You don’t need to use any this weekend Taron. Save them for when you really desperately need them and some of them are for me too.”

“Like singing Johnny.” He asked into her neck.

“Yes. Love a bit of Johnny Gorilla.”

“I can sing Elton out of my arse you always go for the bloody gorilla.”

Robyn laughed against him. “He’s just a sweetheart. Like you.”

Taron moved back to his place and looked at the book in his hands. It was something so thoughtful and different, the gift meaning he got to spend more time with Robyn giving him such wonderful treats when he needed them the most. “You will really go to a premier with me? In something I choose for you to wear?”

“If you pull the vouchers out? Yes of course.”

“Even if it is a black sack?” He asked with a glint in his eyes.

“You think Stella is going to put me in a black sack?”

“No probably not. Robyn this is just so thoughtful. Thank you so much and I really mean that. Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome. Thanks for my bear.”

“I have a feeling I should have waited until Sunday before I gave you that bear. It is going to take all of your attention.”

Robyn chuckled. “I am going to go and put it on the bed in the guest room. I will be back.”

Taron watched as Robyn stood up and walked around the couch and down the hallway to the bedrooms. He then looked back to the book in his hands. Robyn’s presents always had such careful thought and love behind them and were so personal. He flicked through the book, stopping when the page read ‘One back massage’. He always melted into her hands when they were on his head, he couldn’t imagine how wonderful her hands on his back would feel and closing his eyes he wondered when he would ever get the chance to use one of those vouchers, then smiling because he knew that was exactly why Robyn had added them in. It would have to be a very special occasion, weekend or few days like the ones they had now to get to use the more complicated vouchers like a back massage but he knew he was going to make use of them all.

“Right the bear is all tucked up in bed.” She sat back down on couch beside him. “Ready to watch the movie?”

“Sure.” He reached over and carefully placed his voucher book the coffee table. “We are meeting my mates around seven in the pub if that is ok? The karaoke starts at eight and there will be finger food going around too.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“We are going to have to go and see my family before we actually head to the pub though.”

“That is fine Taron. You know I adore your family.”

“So, I was thinking, if we get to my parents for six? It will give us enough time for a quick chat before we can leave.”

“Not cutting it close with an hour there Taron?”

“I have already explained to Mari and Rosie that it will be a quick visit and we will be back tomorrow. You really shouldn’t have pulled out all the stops with your visit the last time. They are expecting unicorns and mermaids this time.”

Robyn laughed as she sat close to him on the couch. “I will put my thinking cap on for the next time I come and visit but that sounds fine Taron. It’s just gone one now. It gives us some quality Christmas movie time before we have to move to get ready.”

“I like the sound of that. I am ready to just sit and chill.”

“Even though it is your break, it has still been busy for you hasn’t it?” Robyn looked to his face again, seeing the weariness in his eyes even though they were happy and bright.

Taron nodded. “Normally the way.”

“Am I being used as your escape goat?” She asked.

“Honestly? A little bit.” Taron hoped she wasn’t going to take his admittance the wrong way. “I just need a few hours sitting and doing nothing.”

“I am happy to help you with you that Taron. Why don’t you lay down and take a nap? I have a feeling tonight is going to be all kinds of hectic fun. You might as well get some rest before hand.”

“But I want to watch the Christmas movie with you.” He answered a little sadly.

“I didn’t mean for you to go to your bed. I meant here. Lay down here on the couch.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” She questioned.

Taron hesitated with his answer and Robyn tilted her head a little before she finally understood why his little gestures of affection he was always so free with had been a little uncertain and timid. He was being extra careful with his movements because of what happened in New York even though as far as she was concerned that was behind them.

“Come here you tosspot.” Moving up so she sat right at the left side of the couch, she wrapped her right arm around his shoulders and gently pulled on him so he got the message to lay down on her lap, kicking his legs up tucking them into his chest a little, moving until he was comfortable. “Do you want a cushion for your head?” She asked him.

“No I am good.”

“You sure.”

“Perfect.” He answered. “Just perfect.” He reached out for the DVD controller and got the movie playing. Then the folded his arms into his chest, one hand resting flat on Robyn’s leg just beside his face. “Perfect.” He whispered again.

“You are not even going to make it past the opening song.” She whispered to him, watching as his whole body relaxed into the couch and her.

“Hmm.” He replied sleepily.

“And I haven’t even touched your head yet.”

“I am tired.”

“I know. I have been telling you that since I arrived. Why do you only have a decent sleep when I am around?” She asked him.

“Irish lucky chicken.” He answered her, his voice a soft coo.

“Sleep. I will wake you when we have to get ready.”

Taron never thought he would ever get near to feeling this close to Robyn after New York but here he was being held in her arms without question or fuss and a relieved happy tear rolled down his cheek. An appreciative moan left his lips when her hand slipped into his hair, her fingertips immediately scratching his scalp so satisfyingly.

“Your hair has grown.” She said to him brushing the strands through her fingers.

“It’s for Eggsy.” He replied.

“I like it like this. Easier to rake through and play with.”

Taron grinned, his eyes closing as Robyn made light circles on his head. “No voucher needed for this right?”

“No voucher needed.” She confirmed. “Now sleep.”

“Ok.”

His one-word answer made her chuckle a little and he raised his head to meet her hand when she dragged her fingers through his hair, enjoying the shivers it sent down his spine. His head settled again, snuggling into her lap and as he felt his breathing deepen and slow down, he knew he would be asleep in seconds. It was pure heaven and without a doubt he was certain that his Robyn was back and just as loving and comforting as she had always been for him.

The opening song on the screen had just finished and Robyn knew Taron was already sleeping. She had seen him sleep enough over the past few months to see the signs on his body. The deep rise and fall of his chest and shoulders, his completely relaxed body position and he head wasn’t leaning into her hand any more. She found it so hard to believe that it was only over three weeks ago that this man in her arms had caused her nothing but an agonising pain that cut her to the core but now as she gently manipulated her hand through his hair, she felt nothing but love from him and for him. As soon as he greeted her at the door and called her chicken her whole body softened to his voice and once he smiled her way, she was a goner. There was just something about Taron that had an effect on her like no other and her heart skipped beats, her words became flirty before she realised she had said them and his hugs were so wonderfully comforting and warm. It was going to be a very interesting evening with him and she was looking forward to every minute of it.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Reunion #Love #Friendship #Christmas #Presents #Kindness #Thoughtfulness #Plans #Cuddles #Hugs #Naps #Robyn and Taron #Excitment

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just-horrible-things · 5 years

Text

Loiral and Marcus - The Holding Facility - 2.iv

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Loiral can’t just cry forever. Misery and impotent fury are one thing, but the pain is a lance through his mind, a constant reminder that he needs to do whatever it takes to stop it from hurting so. It should be a simple matter. ‘Perform better,’ get healing. It’s so frustrating. He was past breaking point, he was willing to beg, why would it only come out faltering and false-sounding? It came easily when he was out of his mind with pain. Yes, and he will push me to that point again if I can’t learn to swallow my pride so focus.

Slaves do it all the time. It shouldn’t be a difficult act. Maybe he can put the words together in advance, and practice until he gets it right. It’s a humiliating idea. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it. He knows how it goes: all ‘please please please’ and ‘master I beg you’ and ‘please I need it’ and --

Memory intrudes unbidden. Her hands on his cheeks. Her bright, bright eyes. The curl of her lip as he pleads, breathless, hypnotised - no, focus! He’s grown used to countering recollection by focusing on the present. But here and now the present is even worse. His skin prickles with fresh sweat and he hates it because he’d only just started to get dry and now the cold will redouble again and he hates his body for its responses that he can’t control and he hates the human for doing this to him and it hurts so much...

And the cycle of useless thoughts goes round again.

When he hears the key in the lock, his heart all but stops. He’s not ready. He’s not ready to face his adversary again. But it isn’t the surfacer, it’s the facility attendant. He lets his head drop back to the tiles and watches her numbly.

She has a bundle of cloth in her arms. It looks thick and warm and Loiral is too suspicious to hope. Her face is expressionless. This is just routine to her, he supposes. She doesn’t even bother to close the door behind her as she walks over and unceremoniously drops the bundle on top of Loiral. “From your master,” she states boredly, “For good behaviour.”

First he suspects some trick or trap. Then, warily, he lets himself anticipate warmth and be glad. Belatedly, it occurs to him that he should be speaking to the attendant, trying to convince her that it would be worth her time to help him out... but when he lifts his head free of the cloth, the door is already closing again and she is gone. Damn. He curses at himself for being so stupid.

But hating himself is less engaging that investigating the new blanket. It is coarse and hairy and rough against his skin and he doesn’t even care because it unfolds large enough to cover his body and keep the cold air off his skin. If he could just get it underneath himself, it would even shield him from the tiles a little.... but that would mean moving, and motion is hell. If I can get warm, though, the shivering will stop. No shivering, less pain... it’s a good motivator.

Carefully, using his arms at awkward angles so as not to have to move his hips - and thus jolt his feet - he spreads the blanket beside him. He takes a moment to grit his teeth and work himself up to it, then forces himself through the motions of rolling over. His feet drag across the tiles. He groans and whimpers and half-sobs, but he does it. And when he’s done he lies still and pants and congratulates himself. It’s not perfect. Folds of the cloth end up trapped beneath his body and there’s not enough left to cover himself completely... but it’s good enough. Good enough not to pay the tax in agony of trying to adjust it.

Only once the pain has ebbed back from all-encompassing to merely horrible, does it occur to him to think about the attendant’s words. For good behaviour. A chilling thought occurs. If this is his ‘reward’ for good behaviour... is he still even going to get the chance to beg for a healer? Don’t be stupid, he chides himself. The man will have to get him healed sooner rather than later if he wants him to be useful and not to die of blood poisoning. But later could be a lot later. It could be days before infection becomes a concern... The pain is maddening already, the thought of having to wait days for relief is enough to drive him back to despair. Not that he can do a thing about it either way.

Slowly, slowly the shivering diminishes and stops. He’s still cold. The pain still gnaws at the edges of his mind. But it’s better, and that’s enough to let him relax, just a little. Perhaps he can even find reverie.... He tries, but it’s still out of reach. He’ll have to just lie here, and wait, and perhaps rehearse what he is going to say and do when the surfacer returns.

When it does happen - who can say how much time has passed - the sound of the door is startling. He twitches in surprise, which hurts, which in turn causes a strangled yelp to escape his throat before he can choke it off. And this time it really is the surfacer. Best behaviour, Loiral reminds himself. No pride.

Reluctantly he abandons his fragile shell of warmth and faces the agony of forcing himself up to his knees. The human waits until he is upright and his gasping has subsided a little before speaking. “How are you feeling?” Loiral swallows. “In pain, master. Please, please have mercy.” An expectant silence is his cue to continue. So he does. He regurgitates rehearsed phrases, doing his best to put a genuine tremor into his voice, to show how badly he wants to prove willing. To humiliate himself for a chance of relief. “Please master, take mercy on me. Please, please forgive me, I beg you master. I - ah - I’m sorry I disobeyed, I’ve learned, I won’t do it again, I’ll do better. Please, I’m grovelling, I’m desperate, please just let me --” “Stop.” He stops instantly, shivering with dread. What has he done wrong now? He searches the surfacer’s face for hints. But the man doesn’t seem angry per se, just... frustrated? And perhaps a little amused? Is that good? Bad?

“I realise now that I asked for a performance, and that is exactly what I’ve received. But this farce is not what I want from you. I require your sincerity, drow. I require your fear.” “This is sincerity,” Loiral insists, bitterly morose. “I’m scared. I’m willing, just tell me-” “No,” the surfacer continues pensively, talking over him without a second thought. “This won’t do at all.”

He approaches, footfalls audible on the tiles, and Loiral flinches away. Frowning, the surfacer crouches beside him where he kneels. Loiral’s breath comes in quick gasps, dread rapidly sharpening into panic. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to escape whatever new torment is in store, and that truth is paralytic.

One large, surprisingly deft hand reaches out towards his shattered feet and Loiral goes rigid with tension, curling into himself in anticipation of agony. But the human takes hold of him by the calf, not the foot. Relief flashes through him, absurdly potent despite the certain knowledge that the reprieve will be seconds long at best.

“Do you know what my favourite thing about breaking bones is?” His tone is pleasant, conversational. Loiral can only whimper in response. His trembling has given way to full-body shaking. Every tremor is pain. “Broken bones make it so easy to elicit further pain when required.” He runs his free hand gently over the foot itself. Loiral cries out involuntarily. The human’s palm is rough and warm against the swollen flesh. Even this subtle contact is shockingly painful. What will it feel like when he applies pressure? When he crushes and twists, bone shards tearing through the bruised and swollen tissues... “No, please,” Loiral whimpers, “Please, no, please.” And there is that rapidly-becoming-familiar smile. And there, quick on its heels, is understanding. This is the sincerity the man is looking for. Not fighting past his pride, but here on the edge of agony where terror is overwhelming and pride a distant memory.

The weight of his powerlessness is crushing. He can hardly breathe. He is utterly helpless in this creature’s hands. He can’t fight back. No one is going to intervene. If this human so chooses, broken feet could be the least of his pain.

“Please,” he begs, “Please, please, no more.” “Beg me.” “I beg you.” “Swear to obey me.” “I swear, anything you say, I’ll do as you say.” “Tell me...” a pause, a smile. The man’s hand brushes over the foot again and elicits another whimper. “What are you thinking right now?” “It hurts. Oh please, it hurts, and --” Barely any hesitation. “And I’m afraid and I’m helpless and you’re in control and --” Gasp, shudder. “And I just want to give you what you want and get mercy, is this what you want?” He is desperate, and pathetic, and he barely even cares. “Do you think this is what I want?” “Yes?” Loiral ventures in a tiny voice. This is sincerity. This is fear. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more afraid in his life.

His leg is released, gently. “Good,” the surfacer tells him calmly. “Smart drow.” He runs a large and calloused hand through Loiral’s damp, tousled hair. Loiral flinches under the touch, but doesn’t try to pull away. “Let it never be said that I am without mercy.” The surfacer smiles.

Then he speaks in a deeper, more formal tone, incanting in a language foreign to Loiral’s ears. The cadence is reminiscent of prayer, which is far from comforting. He places one hand on the back of Loiral’s head, forcing it down, and the other on the centre of his back. The room suffuses with a reddish glow. The human’s voice is amplified, echoing unnaturally. And all of a sudden, his hands begin to burn against Loiral’s skin.

Loiral cringes instinctively against the floor to escape the pain, but the human’s strong hands follow him down. The heat spreads outwards across his skin like liquid fire. Each half-healed wound comes alive with fresh, sharp pain as the magic washes over them. Loiral twitches and yelps with it, bewildered and overwhelmed.

And then the fire reaches his feet, and he forgets everything else. A raw scream tears out of his throat. He barely hears himself. He can feel the shattered bones moving beneath the skin, grinding against one another. The pain is sharp and bright and clean and fierce, driving out the throbbing, swollen ache that had made its home in his flesh. The intensity leaves him spasming on the floor, eyes unseeing and mind utterly blank.

And when the pain passes, it leaves blessed relief in its wake.

He comes back to himself slowly, shaking and sweating and gasping for air. He tears his eyes off the ceiling and glances around the cell in a moment of panic. But the surfacer is gone and he is alone.

He breathes. Fear is giving way to confusion. Nothing hurts.

He knows before he checks that his feet are whole again. Not even bruises remain. There is a sort of a phantom memory of pain under his fingers as he prods and pokes. But the joints move through their full range smoothly and without so much as a twinge. His other wounds are gone too. Even the places where he bit his tongue struggling. No scabs, no bruises, no scars.

Why? He doesn’t understand. Pain makes a prisoner easy to control. Why heal him so thoroughly? And at the same time, he is stunned. It had not occurred to him that the surfacer might be able to deliver healing personally. Let alone with such power. How much favour must he have with his strange surface gods, to heal so much damage so swiftly? Is that the point? Another show of power? And why did it hurt so much?

His thoughts go round and round in little, baffled circles as he sits and stares blankly at the door. He hates the human for doing this to him. Hates him more fiercely than he has ever hated anything. But just the thought of the creature leaves him queasy with fear too. And somehow, at the boundary of fear and hatred, he finds a kind of unexpected respect. He had no idea that a member of the lesser races could be so ruthless. He’s so hopelessly off balance.

But... at least he isn’t hurting? For now?

[Next]

#my writing #loiral and marcus #loiral al'sekath #(pronounced lwah-ral)#marcus arcuarius #torture #captivity #broken bones #begging #compliance #mind games #fear #despair #creepy captor #magical healing #painful magical healing

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oldbluethings · 5 years

Text

St. Clarity

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Rated M for mature content

Prompts: flowers, Tony has a mild panic attack

This my @ironstrangehaven gift fic. My giftee was @fromthemalfoymanor. This is probably not at all what you wanted—I tried for fluff and failed—but it's done!

He's been here before. Many times. But it never gets any easier.

Tony gulps down a panicked breath, looks around at the desolate world his mind has created. A dry wind blows red dust over crumbling ruins—the wreckage of skyscrapers and brownstones. New York, maybe.

Sometimes it's Titan, and he's already alone, covered in dust that's all that remains of his friends. Of Peter. And the idiots. The wizard. Good people who never had a chance.

There's someone here with him this time. Strange, the wizard—not the kid, thank god—sitting by himself on a piece of wreckage across the barren plain. Tony waits for him to turn into dust and blow away.

Fuck. He doesn't want to see this again. He can't.

He's seen Strange in his dreams many times. Sometimes he's himself, or what Tony imagines he's like. Sometimes, in that weird logic that only makes sense in dreams, he's a bizarre amalgamation of himself and the kid, both dusted together. Sometimes Strange just repeats the last thing he'd said to Tony—there was no other way—over and over until Tony finally wakes up in a cold sweat, stuffing his fist in his mouth to suppress a sob.

But Strange doesn't disintegrate this time. He gets up and walks slowly toward Tony. Where he steps, green shoots sprout from the dry ground, and flowers bloom in his wake, tall and purple, small and yellow.

Tony can't help it—an incredulous laugh bursts out of him. It's just too much, too surreal suddenly.

He knows this is a dream. Has known from the beginning, he realizes. Usually, he’s so trapped in his subconscious that he can't recognize the nonsensical details that would give a dream away. But tonight he can. This isn't New York, and it isn't Titan. This is just something his pathetic brain made up to torture him.

Tony takes a deep breath and whispers, “This is a dream. It's only a dream.”

Nothing happens. The dream world doesn't come crashing down around him with that revelation. He doesn't wake up, heart beating too fast and body covered in sweat, in his narrow little bed on board the ship.

“Huh,” he says. He can feel the impending panic attack edging away. He's almost calm again. Maybe because of Strange’s silly flowers, maybe because he knows this isn't real.

Is this lucid dreaming, he wonders. He's never done that before, had always thought that was just new-age granola bullshit.

Strange stops in front of him and tips his head in greeting. He looks like he did on Titan, dusty and tired, the way he always looks in Tony’s dreams. “Tony,” he says.

Fine, he can play along. He nods back. “Strange. What's with the flowers?”

Strange turns and looks. Behind him, an entire field of flowers is blooming, the edges still creeping further and further out along the horizon.

Strange turns back. “They're lavender and sage and chamomile. Good for calming your nerves. I brought them here for you,” he says with the casual absurdity of dream logic.

“I like them,” Tony says because it's the truth. He's already feeling better. If this is a dream, it's not a bad one.

“Tony.” There's a flicker of pain in Strange’s eyes. “You don't need to keep coming back to this place every night. You need rest.”

Does dream-Strange know he's in a dream, too? Maybe he knows whatever Tony knows. “I am resting. I'm actually asleep right now.” Tony narrows his eyes. “If this is my dream, what are you doing here?”

“I am often in your dreams.”

“Yeah, but not like this.” Tony gestures at him. “Most of the time you just tell me there was no other way and then you die. You're not usually so… interactive.”

“I…” A look of confusion passes over Strange’s face. “I needed to tell you something, I think…” He glances around at the bleak landscape, the flowers, and frowns. “No… This is your dream. You needed to tell yourself something.”

“What do I need to tell myself?” Despite everything, Tony’s intrigued. This is by far the weirdest dream he's ever had.

“I don't… know.” Strange looks up at him like that's a surprise.

Tony can't help smiling. Gotcha. “I think you did come here to tell me something. So what was it?”

Instead of answering, Strange shakes his head and suddenly stumbles to the side. Tony reaches out to grab him but the world shifts around them, folding and refolding, and suddenly they're in a… bedroom?

The walls are painted a garish, deep red—the same color as Titan’s dirt. It's, well… the best word Tony can come up with is a boudoir. There's an awful lot of ornate, black-lacquered furniture—far too much, in Tony’s opinion—a huge bed layered with embroidered pillows. The flowers have followed them—their delicate scent, too—only now they're in ceramic vases scattered about the room. White with delicate blue designs. Deep indigo and gold.

A breeze blows in through the open window, making the curtains billow, the flowers spill out of their vases onto the floor. It's night outside. Red dust settles over the coverlet on the four-poster bed.

“This is… interesting,” Strange says. He's kneeling on the floor, in the center of a plush-looking oriental rug. His robes have turned black, loose and pooling around him like silk. His legs and feet are bare.

Tony takes another moment to look around. Weird shit. “That's one word for it.” And then down at himself. He’s sitting on the edge of the huge bed, wearing black silk pajama pants and no shirt. The arc reactor in his chest looks like a parody of the real thing. He runs his hand over it—yep, not real. He doesn't feel at all self conscious. He feels comfortable and… like he's waiting for something.

Strange is still kneeling, hands folded neatly in his lap, watching him.

Tony smirks. “Is this a sex dream?” he asks. “Because this looks like that kind of a place. I'm getting a very kinky vibe here.”

“Do you want it to be?”

“No…?”

“You don't sound very sure about that.”

“Because I'm not very sure about it,” Tony says reasonably. “If this is a sex dream, shouldn't Pepper be here? Instead of...” He gestures vaguely at the other man.

“Do you want her to be here?”

Tony shakes his head, snorts. “Man, you're just as cryptic and annoying in my dream as you were in real life.” He stands and brushes orange dust off his hands, starts to untie the drawstring on his pants.

“What are you doing?” Strange’s eyes are wide. He looks very surprised for a figment of Tony’s imagination.

“This is my dream, right? So I can do whatever I want?”

“I'm…” Stephen looks around them at the red walls, the flowers, back up at Tony. “I don't know.”

“That doesn't sound like you.”

“Maybe it isn't me. You said this is only a dream. Your dream. Maybe I don't really exist.”

“I know you don't. I saw you”—he swallows—”I saw everyone die.”

“Tony,” Stephen starts, but he ends up just shaking his head.

“Shut up,” Tony says automatically. He can feel his heart speeding up, panic creeping back in. No. He can't do this right now. “Sex dream, remember? Get over here.”

Strange starts to stand up, but Tony says, “No. Just like that—on your knees.” Because this is his fucking dream and he’ll do what he wants.

And Strange shuffles over, seeming surprised that he's actually doing it. He stops in front of Tony and just looks up at him.

Tony nods at his crotch and Stephen lifts his hands and rests them on Tony’s thighs, slides his shaking fingers up.

That's right, Tony thinks, the wizard’s hands shook. He'd forgotten until just now. Or had he even noticed that detail while they were fighting for their lives, the universe? He honestly can't remember.

Strange hesitates right there, fingers nearly grazing Tony’s dick. He tips his head to the side. “Are you…? Is this a test to see what I'll do? To see if this is really a dream?” Tony catches a hint of amusement in his voice.

Even in his dreams, Strange is shrewd. Too shrewd to be imaginary? Or is that just how Tony imagines he would be?

Tony sucks in a breath, lets it out. “Maybe.” In the moment, right now, everything feels too real, as if screwing this up will have consequences. Who's to say how he’ll feel when he wakes up. “Is this really a dream? Give me a straight answer this time.”

Strange frowns. “I told you already. I don't know.” It's the truth, Tony sees.

He's been angry, he realizes, at himself, at Strange. But he's not anymore. They had no chance, really, against Thanos. Delayed the inevitable, but that was it. His death wouldn't have been a benefit to anyone. Thanos would've gotten the Time Stone another way.

He doesn't need Strange to grovel at his feet, to suck his cock or whatever he was going to do in this fake room, or to beg forgiveness. Because there's nothing to forgive.

He rests his hand tentatively on the back of Strange’s head. His hair feels softer than he thought it would. Still dusty. “Is this your dream?”

Strange looks up at him and blinks, stunned. “Tony… I don't—”

“Shut up and let me talk.” His hand strokes gently over the other man’s hair. “You were right—I needed to tell myself something. I hadn't realized… But I'm not angry at you for… for doing what you had to do back there on Titan. For saving my life. I know you had your reasons. I just wish you could've told me what they were.”

“Tony, I couldn't. You—”

“Not done talking,” he says quietly, and Strange bows his head. “There's no way I'd ever come up with something like this bedroom. I mean”—he looks around, grimaces—”it's fucking atrocious. Not my style at all. My arc reactor never looked like this. I don't know what those flowers are. Those things didn't come from my subconscious.

“If this is real—if you're real—and you're in my dream somehow, or maybe I'm in your dream… That means maybe you were right. Maybe there's a chance for us.”

“There is a chance,” Strange murmurs with conviction.

“Come up here.” Tony tugs at Strange’s arm and he stands, eyes searching his face. “I never wanted you on your knees. That's not me.”

“Tony, what are you—”

“Just shut up,” Tony says, and he grabs the back of Stephen’s head and drags him down into a kiss.

It's barely even a kiss—just a gentle press of their lips together. Soft and uncomplicated. The dry wind through the window stops, the sweet smell of the flowers grows stronger around them.

Strange pulls away first, looking down at Tony, brows drawn in confusion. “Why?” he says. “You have a fiancée…”

“Dream, remember? Doesn't matter whose it is. I can do whatever I want.” Tony pulls Strange down again, rests his forehead against the other man’s, and closes his eyes. “I forgive you,” he murmurs. “Is that what you needed to hear?”

He can feel Strange nodding against him.

“You really don't need me to forgive you, you idiot. There's nothing to forgive.”

“Tony…”

“Shh… It’s okay. I'll be okay. Go back to wherever you came from, sleep,” Tony says. He holds on to Strange’s head, keeps his eyes closed. And the solid warmth of him slowly fades until Tony’s alone again. He blinks, but the dream world drops away around him. And then he's awake in his bed, staring at the metal conduits that crisscross the bulkhead.

Nebula doesn't sleep. She sits awake during their night cycle and watches over the ship, the endless stars outside, his fragile Terran body. He didn't thrash himself awake this time, hyperventilating. Nebula didn't have to come in and shake him awake, reassure him that it wasn't real, they're not still on Titan. Tony knows that when he gets up looking happy and well-rested, like he got some actual fucking sleep for once, Nebula will look at him with her knowing smile and ask him what he dreamed about, if it was a good one.

He knows he’ll have to lie. He can't tell her that he dreamed about the woman he loves because he didn't. He dreamed about the salty, sarcastic bastard of a wizard who traded away their only chance at victory to save his worthless life. The man who said it was the only way with such sorrow in his voice.

The man who gave him hope again.

#ironstrange #ironstrange haven gift exchange #mcu fanfiction

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sherlolo-land · 6 years

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Okay, we’d like to go over some of our favorite parts of this post. Now, we’re not here to tell you that you absolutely have to hate Mary with every fiber of your being, because that’s an opinion for each person to decide on their own. We are just here to talk about why some of the reasoning in this particular post is laughable.

1. Right off the bat, it compares Johnlockers to the obnoxious boy in the scenario raising his voice at someone who disagrees. Lmao. We know what you guys think of Johnlockers. We don’t need to waste time proving that the hate against us is both hypocritical and blown out of proportion. For more info, simply search this blog. It’s just funny how ya’ll can never make any arguments against us without resorting to ad hominem attacks at least once. Or in this case, from the very beginning.

2. Mary’s “unforgivable sins.” The examples you give of us searching for any reasons to demonize her are…. not the best. You picked examples that made it easiest for you to say “See, look how reaching your arguments are!” You basically said we think she’s evil because she playfully teases Sherlock, tries to keep her family safe, and doesn’t reveal her identity right away. I think you know that there are much better examples to argue that Mary is not a good person, but you intentionally didn’t use them. You went for the smallest points in our argument instead and presented it like it was the core of it. To me, this shows that even you see the weakness in your own argument. And regarding Mary’s abandonment, John himself thought it was incredibly selfish of her to run off instead of working things out with him. His words, originally, not ours.

3. Mary’s smile. Now its my turn to call the argument reaching. I’d say, claiming Mary was smiling just so Magnussen wouldn’t have another pressure point on her is one interpretation you could use if you were desperately trying to make her actions in these scene less detestable. If you love Mary and want to think this to make yourself feel better about her, go right ahead. Make it your fanon. But claiming that it’s a cold, hard fact? Nope, nice try. There’s nothing in that scene to suggest that that smile was only for Magnussen. That’s your personal headcanon, and there is a difference between that and canon.

4. “A large number of people claim they hated Mary before His Last Vow…However, if she was disliked before she actually deserved that, what does it say about those fans?” It’s not a crime to dislike a character. Johnlockers are held to this ridiculous standard of not being allowed to speak a single negative word about any character (esp. a woman). Why aren’t other fans held to the same standard? Why is it okay for Sherl0llians (and sometimes Adl0ckers too) to vehemently and openly hate John with everything in their soul? They are never accused of hating someone for getting in the way of their ship or being biased in their opinions. On the flip side, how come no one is making this same argument about ppl who loved Mary? There are people who loved her right from the start, and throughout everything afterwards (the assassin reveal, the shooting, the lying, the abandonment, the belittling, the selfishness…), she remained a saint in their eyes. How is this different from someone disliking Mary from the start and holding onto that opinion no matter what?

5. “Nothing an antagonist can do to be redeemed, it seems. I don’t want to say a female antagonist, but I am thinking that (Irene Adler, for instance, is still described as a villain.)” *claps for you* Omg what an original argument to make against the big, bad misogynistic Johnlockers! I’ve never ever heard that one before! … Shucks, and here I was thinking I was reading a well-written, organized post that for once didn’t resort to calling Johnlockers sexist for no reason. And about Irene, she may not have necessarily been a villain, but she was an antagonist. She was a force working against Sherlock throughout ASiB. She worked for Moriarty. She was a adversary for him. Does that make her a horrible, evil person? No. But don’t act like it’s a crime to call her what she is. An antagonist. And chances are, if someone uses the word “villain” instead of antagonist or adversary, it’s probably just a word preference. It’s not that deep fam.

6. “It’s best, I believe, to look at the facts and try to be objective.” Okay, then let’s look at all her crimes and despicable acts that you left out of your earlier arguments. Wait… but that would tear apart the point you’re trying to make.

7. Before she shot him, she clearly warned him not to come closer and expressed her remorse. Aka: It’s okay to shoot your friend (who is offering to help you) in the chest just because they bet on you having a conscience and decided to take a step closer to you. And afterwards, it’s best to express your remorse by threatening to shoot them again when you think no one is looking.

8. “Sherlock clearly forgave her and they remained friends” See here’s the thing. We were never actually shown this. We were shown Sherlock escaping dying at her hands a second time, then John making up with her with that ominous, carefully worded, possibly double-edged “The problems of your future are my privilege.” Then Sherlock shot Cam to keep John and Mary safe (yes, John too). Then we got TAB, where Sherlock solved the mystery of a bride who shot people and envisioned John’s marriage going downhill. It was sublte, but throughout all that, there was always the very plausible possibility that there was something more going on. After all, it would’ve made a much better story than Mary trying to kill her supposed friend twice and John forgiving her, despite that decision going against all his previous character development. So yeah, it’s not a surprise (nor the viewer’s fault) for scratching their head when TST aired and Sherlock and Mary were suddenly besties. Something else to understand here re: s4: The question isn’t whether or not he forgave her. They made that pretty obvious. The question we simply have is why?? It’s not a crime to wonder about this instead of just accepting whatever the writers give us, especially when it has no consistency or sense behind it.

9. “She’s been criticised for her sass in HLV, after the shooting, when she dared not to grovel at John’s feet, begging for his forgiveness.” Ask yourself, does her little quip in HLV make you see her as a funny, quirky badass? Why? Genuinely ask yourself why. Why shouldn’t she ask his forgiveness for trying to murder his best friend in cold blood, and apologize like any semi-decent human being would have done? Why is it so “uwu cute and badass” that all she had to say about the situation were some snarky sarcastic comments? See, this is an example of Mary being able to do literally anything, and still be worshipped for it. She’s a woman and can therefore literally commit murder and its uwu so cute. I don't understand how saying “omg wow she tried to kill her friend and DARED to not apologize for it, you go girl!” is helping your argument that she’s really not so bad of a person. (It does, however, help the argument that she would have made an incredible, very interesting, and entertaining villain, so thanks for that).

10. “Regardless of Mary’s actions and her motivations, she was bound to be hated, simply because she was in a relationship with John.” *claps again* Ohmygod wow you are so smart, I have never heard anyone say that before. Jesus, can ya’ll simply make your argument for once without resorting to calling us sexist? Or insulting our intelligence by implying that we can’t tell the difference between someone getting in the way of our ship and someone being a despicable person who should not be worshipped and praised? And it’s funny cause i double some of ya’ll would love and stan her so much if she wasn't in a relationship with John. You guys just love being able to use that excuse. You love that she blocks Johnlock and you love her for existing to do just that. If she was just a random side character who shows up in S3, makes some snarky comments, becomes friends with them, and then tries to kill Sherlock, I doubt you guys would still feel the same about her.

11. “But when people demonise her and twist her every word to make her look like the evilest woman on earth, I have to disagree.” / “Mary is not as evil as some people think.” Listen, I agree. I don’t think every single thing she does is horrible. People can often be unfair when talking about her. Both in defending everything she does, and villainizing everything she does. I get it. But hating Mary or interpreting her as a villain is not a fucking crime. There are numerous reasons to support this reading, as you said yourself. I personally don’t see any redeeming qualities in her that make her a character worth forgiving or liking. If you want to argue that she’s not so bad of a person, go right ahead. But seriously, if you’re going to try to justify your reasoning for doing so, try to come up with some better reasons, because these are weak. As I said before, I don’t think every single thing she does is horrible. But I do think that, objectively, the bad about her far outbalances the good. Just try making a simple good/bad list of her traits and actions, weigh them fairly against each other, and tell me what conclusion you come up with. It’s really not a surprising thing (nor a crime) to dislike Mary or see her as a bad character. It’s common sense. At least that’s how I see it. But I’m just a stupid Johnlocker who is only interested in seeing dicks touch. What do I know

#mary morstan #mary wank #sherlock #double standards

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parkhabits · 7 years

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With You {Part 5}

Mark x Reader x Jinyoung Genre: Angst/fluff/ AU Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“Seriously Tuan,” Wendy complained as Mark leaned against her while she tried to help him through the door of his dorm. She scrunched up her face as he smelt heavily of alcohol. Mark had finally finished exams and had gone out to celebrate with his classmates.

Wendy was his upper class man who had run into Mark and his friends at the bar. “You need to sober up. I thought you were going to see Y/N today.”

“Y/N…” his words slurred, “I’m such an idiot do you think she can forgive me?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, “If I were her I’d be pissed.”

“I haven’t heard from her in days,” he sighed, knowing it was his fault. Now that exams were over he planned to go to you and beg on his knees.

“Well go fix that,” Wendy rolled her eyes, “But first you need to go shower, I doubt she’d take you back when you smell like that.” She pinched her nose, Mark was like her little brother.

Mark stumbled over to the bathroom to shower. Wendy walked around his room, noting the pictures he had of you on his desk. She smiled to herself, she knew how crazy Mark was about you. She heard his phone vibrating on his bed, walking over she picked it up, “Hello?” she paused listening to the voice on the other line, “Sorry Mark’s unavailable right now. He’s in the shower. May I ask who’s calling?” she waited but there was no answer. “Hello?” she called into the phone. The line was cut and she stared down at the phone, Mark came out of the bathroom changed and drying his hair with a towel.

“Who was it?” he asked.

She turned and shrugged at him, “I’m not sure, they hung up.” She walked over to him, leaning over to sniff him, “Much better. Okay, go see Y/N and apologize. But I hope she doesn’t make it easy for you.” Wendy winked and patted his shoulder.

“Thanks Wendy,” Mark said. He needed to make sure he stopped by the flower shop to pick up your favorite flowers before he groveled on his knees.

Mark remained there in silence as he looked down at your daughter who had drifted to sleep beside him. His daughter. His heart clenched, was he the father of this beautiful little girl that laid beside him. The drawing she showed him earlier still remained in his grasp. Slowly he crawled off the bed to not wake her. When he stood he could barely feel his legs underneath him. He quietly shut the door behind him, what was he supposed to do now? Mark made his way towards the stairs, pausing in front of a picture frame that hung on the wall. It was the three of you. Jinyoung, your daughter and you. Mark stared at the picture, focusing on your daughter. "She looks like you," the words the lady at the ice cream store replayed in his head. No, she looks likes Y/N, he thought; but the more he stared at her the more he saw himself too.

You stood at the sink finishing washing the dishes. You felt Jinyoung's arms wrap around you from behind. He planted soft kisses along your neck, sending a rush of shivers down your body.

"It's hard to wash dishes with you doing that," you teased.

"I know," he smirked. He pushed your hair aside to reveal more skin as his lips continued to trail kisses along your neck. "Mark has put our little girl to sleep, so how about once he leaves..."

Your heart skipped a beat, partly from the fact that he said "our daughter" and the other due to the fact that he had grazed his tongue along your skin when he said that.

"Tell you what, how about I finish up these dishes, and you go clean up the BBQ."

"And then?" He murmured.

"Then once Mark leaves..." you trailed off giving him a sly glance.

Jinyoung grinned, "fine," he said as he let go of your waist kissing you on the cheek before heading out the back door.

Smiling to yourself you continued to wash the dishes. You were relieved with how smooth the night had gone.

Mark stood in the kitchen archway, leaning against it for support. "Y/N," he called, his voice shaky.

"Hmm?" You turned around after hearing your name. Mark's face was pale as if he'd just seen a ghost. You noted how he had a piece of paper in his grasp, looking closely you noticed it was your daughter's drawing from earlier this morning.

He could only look at you as he tried to piece things together and find the right way to ask. Lifting up the sheet he pointed to the initials in the corner, "Is she my daughter?"

You froze and time stood still as Mark looked at you, waiting for an answer. This wasn't how you planned to tell him.

"Mark I-"

"Yes or no Y/N," Mark's tone was sharp.

This was it, everything was going to be laid out right in front of him. "Yes," your reply was barely a whisper.

What was he feeling right now? Mark wanted to faint, he wanted to yell, he wanted to cry, but all he could do was look at you and the only emotion that he could register was anger.

"You mean to tell me that after all this time, I- .. I mean we have a daughter? Were you not going to tell me Y/N? Were you just going to keep her hidden from me all this time?"

"I was going to tell you soon…" you tried to explain.

Only anger built inside of him even as he tried to hear you out. He wanted an explanation as to why something as big as this, as important as this was kept from him. "What you should have done was tell me right from the beginning! Jesus Y/N, five years!" He yelled, "I missed 5 years of her life, I never even knew she existed."

You didn't have the right to cry, not when you kept something this big away from him. That's what you tried to tell yourself, but the tears had already started to fall. You couldn't say anything, no matter how much Mark had hurt you in the past, nothing felt justifiable.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. "Just tell me why, Y/N. Did you not want a future together? Did you think I would be a horrible dad?"

"I tried to tell you that night but you wanted a break." You explained to him. "Then I tried calling you at the airport but then that woman picked up your phone so-"

"What woman?" Mark interrupted.

"There was a woman who picked up your phone, she said you were in the shower and she was at your place so I assumed.." you paused giving yourself a moment to collect yourself, "so I assumed it was really over between us."

That couldn't be possible, there was no way in hell he would have cheated or been with someone else other than you .He tried to think back on when another woman had been in his dorm aside from you but couldn’t recall. It wasn't over, and you had been pregnant, moved across the country and left him.

"Y/N, there was no other woman besides you back then." His voice had lowered but anger still remained in his tone.

"When I found out I was pregnant I was so happy, Mark. I wasn't scared because I knew I had you beside me. But that night when I was going to tell you, you pushed me away and I didn't know what I wanted to do. I wasn't planning on leaving indefinitely, I was going to give you time. I knew how much you wanted the internship and to get into the Master's program. I didn't want to hold you back. Then there was that woman. I felt like I lost you and the future we had talked about and I felt alone. I had even considered-" you stopped yourself from finishing that sentence because you couldn't possibly picture what your life would be like if you had made that decision.

Mark went to you, grasping your cheek in his hands as he brushed the tears that had starting rolling down your cheek. He kissed your forehead, pulling you against his body to hold you. "Y/N.."

He held you as you wept against his chest. You had been alone, raising your child by yourself, all because you thought that you would hold him back from his dreams and that he had been with someone else.

He missed out on so much of his daughter's life and the life he could have had with the two of you. He partly blamed himself for not making the effort. He didn't go after you, he didn't take initiative to find out what happened to the both of you and your relationship. He let you slip away. Anger had subsided and turned into yearning. Mark had dreamt of a family with you, a life with you and your children. He could feel the dampness of your shirt from where the tears had soaked through. He pulled away to look at you, his hands still around your arms. This is what he wanted, the piece of him that was missing. "Y/N I love you," the words flowed out so easily as they had countless times before. This time the way he said it was more than just a declaration of his love, it was like a plea.

You looked up at him, trying to read his expression, it wasn't anger or sadness that you saw, you didn't know what to make of it. "Mark..."

"No listen to me Y/N. I reached my goals. I have my master’s, I have my career. I thought it was everything I wanted but it doesn’t mean anything because everything that I truly want in life is you," he looked at you intently, "Let me be apart of your life, let me be apart of her life.” he emphasized. "Be with me Y/N. You were foolish to think that you and our daughter would have held me back, because I would have done anything for the two of you. I will do anything for the two of you.”

"Mark, Jinyoung is my fiancé." You stated, reminding him and yourself before you got lost in his words.

"Tell me you don't love me. Tell me that a part of you doesn't wish that it was the three of us." You hesitated, and Mark seized the opportunity to pull you in close to him, "I barely even know her but I already love her with all my heart Y/N. She's mine too, give me a chance." he whispered into your ear while he embraced you tenderly. “No more wasted years. I don’t want to miss out on any more of her life and I don’t want to spend another moment without you.” You could feel the warmth of his breath close to your ear.

A tear rolled down your cheek, your arms reaching up slowly to return his embrace.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jinyoung's voice was cold as he cleared his throat, witnessing the embrace that looked more intimate than just two friends hugging.

You pulled away from Mark instantly, wiping the tear that had rolled down your cheek. You looked at the two men that stood before you in the kitchen, feeling sick with apprehension.

Mark grabbed you by your shoulders turning you to look at him quickly, “I love you, you know where I stand. The choice is up to you,” he reminded. He didn’t say it quietly, he intended for Jinyoung to hear his words. Your daughter was his daughter, not Jinyoung’s. Mark wanted you to be his as well, not Jinyoung’s. Although he knew Jinyoung was a good guy, things were different now. He walked past Jinyoung, avoiding his gaze as he left.

Jinyoung glanced over his shoulder, watching Mark as he left. He reverted his attention back to you, “do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

You felt more scared to tell Jinyoung than you did Mark. “Jinyoung… I was going to tell you.”

“What is it?” He asked.

You explained everything. Starting with how you and Mark had been more than family friends. Then when you became pregnant you had visited your aunt for the summer and had planned to tell Mark when you came back. You told him about the break Mark wanted and the phone call, as well as how you had decided to stay. You told him about never telling Mark about your pregnancy and his daughter because you didn’t want to hold him back. When you finished explaining everything you looked at Jinyoung unable to read his demeanor.

Jinyoung never needed to know who the father was or what happened between the two of you. He never searched for an explanation because he didn’t need one from you, he loved the two of you regardless. However, there was an impending feeling of uneasiness that weighed on his heart as he thought back to moments ago when Mark held you, his fiancé, in his arms.

“Mark wants to be a part of her life…and mine” you said trying to explain the incident that occurred earlier in the kitchen.

Jinyoung nodded, pondering over the sentence he was going to ask, “Are you considering it?” he held his breath.

You hesitated, you didn’t tell Mark anything because you didn’t know where your heart lied. You weren’t the only one in this decision, you had to think about your daughter.

Jinyoung became uneasy at your sudden hesitation, “Y/N…”

You and Mark had once talked about your future, a part of you could still see it. Was it because Mark was the father of your child that you still had these feelings and thoughts about him or was it that your love for Mark was so deeply rooted into your heart. For a brief moment you questioned yourself, do you still love Mark? It was a question you had no answer too, you looked at Jinyoung knowing that you had to be honest with him and yourself.

“Y/N, are you considering being with Mark?” Jinyoung repeated, the last of his patience wavering.

“I…” you didn’t know what to say to him, “Jinyoung, he’s her dad.”

You might as well have taken a knife and stabbed him in the chest directly because that’s what those words felt like. “Biologically.” He was hurt and his only defense mechanism was to be angry. “What about me, y/n? Is it only by sharing the same blood that makes someone a father? Because I have been like a father to her, I love her as if she was my own. Or is that not enough for you?” You instantly regretted saying that to Jinyoung. You knew how much he loved you and your daughter. He was just as much a father to your child as Mark was.

“Jinyoung- “ you reached out to him, but he pulled away.

Turning his back he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Never had you seen Jinyoung like this as you followed him into your bedroom.

He ran his hands through his hair as he tried calming his temper. He was angry and hurt but for the most part he was scared. He couldn’t lose the two of you, not when he’s already had a taste of what life could be like with the three of you. He walked over to the closet and pulled out a luggage, then started packing some of his clothes.

“Jinyoung, what are you doing?”

He turned to face you, “Y/N, I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you and your daughter. Can you say the same thing to me?”

“Jinyoung, you don’t have go.” you pleaded.

He was disappointed that you didn’t say you wanted a life with him too. He turned to continue his packing. He sighed, “Y/N, this has been a lot to take in and I don’t want to fight with you,”

You grasped his arm hoping to hold onto him, “Then don’t fight with me, let’s talk about this. You don’t have to leave,” You couldn’t blame him for wanting to go and the tears had started falling.

He couldn’t look at you because he knew he would cave in. You needed to figure out if your heart belonged to him or if it still belonged to Mark. However, he couldn’t be in the same vicinity as you knowing that you had to make a choice. As much as he loved you he also wanted time to think. Did you not tell him about Mark because you still loved him?

“Mommy?” your daughter’s sleepy voice was heard as she walked into the bedroom, sleepily rubbing her eyes. Your voices had woken her up.

You knelt beside her, trying your best to conceal your tears. “Mommy why are you crying?” She noticed the luggage in the room. She looked at Jinyoung breaking free from you and walking over to Jinyoung. “Where are you going?”

Jinyoung knelt down in front her stroking the hair away from her face. “I’m going away for a little bit” he explained his chest tightening.

“I want to go with you,” she pouted.

“No sweetie, you can’t come with me.” Jinyoung said, briefly looking at you.

“Why are you leaving?” she looked back to you and saw that you were crying, she felt a sense of panic, “Is it because of me? Is it because I said I didn’t want you to tuck me in and that I wanted Uncle Mark?” she started crying, wrapping her arms around his neck, “I promise I won’t do it again. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Jinyoung wrapped his arms around your daughter, stroking the back of her hair as she cried, “No baby, no” he soothed, “This isn’t your fault,” he pulled her to look at him as he wiped the tears from her cheeks, “I love you okay?” he kissed her forehead.

He couldn’t help the tear that rolled down his cheek as he stood up. He looked at you once more before grabbing his luggage and walking out the bed room door.

Your daughter sobbed as she ran to the stairs stopping at the top as she watched Jinyoung open the front door. “Jinyoung don’t leave! You’re supposed to be my daddy remember!” she cried out after him.

You rushed over to your daughter, wrapping your arms around her to comfort her as she cried into your shoulder. You rocked her back and forth to soothe her, she ws still too young to understand any of this, how were you supposed to explain all of this to her? Later that night after your daughter had fallen back to sleep you laid in your bed. The empty space where Jinyoung slept prominent. The night replaying over and over in your mind as you cried some more. You loved Jinyoung, you should have told him that and made things more clear but at the same time you couldn’t because you didn’t know where your feelings for Mark lied. Was it possible to love two people at the same time?

~ Lea <3

Okay I’ll be completely honest. I don’t know who she’s going to end up with. I’m going to be thinking long and hard about this. So what do y’all think? #TeamMark or #TeamJinyoung

#mark tuan #mark tuan x reader #got7 mark #park jinyoung #park jinyoung x reader #mark tuan angst #park jinyoung angst #got7 jinyoung #got7 #got7 fic #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #got7 fanfic

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kazosa · 7 years

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Second Chances - Jeff x Reader: Chapter 20

Summary: Reader and Jeff work a project and become fast friends. The project ends and they go their separate ways, neither forgetting the other. With Hollywood being a small community, you two bump into one another either at events or projects, but there is always something keeping you apart. Will the obstacles ever end? Chapter 20 Summary: Aftermath of the incident. Valentine’s Day Warnings: language (as usual), little angst A/N: Please leave comments or let me know if you want to be tagged, etc Word count: 1900 Catch up here: Masterlist Tags: @jml509 @jasoncrouse @yellatthetopofyourlungs @bookchic20 @prettyepiic @rizflo-blog @curious-sub7 @backseat-negan @warriorqueen1991

Valentine’s Day You were sitting on Jared’s couch holding your knees to your chest. “For someone so smart, you sure are dumb,” Jared said from behind the couch. He came around the side to sit with you. “And stubborn!” “Thank you,” you were so miserable. “Suck it up, wussie. I know he’s called you. Did you talk to him?” You shook your head. “Why the hell not?” “I was still mad,” you answered. “And now?!” Part of you wanted to make Jeff suffer and grovel, and another part wanted to run to him and beg for forgiveness…and make-up sex. You’d never been this mad at him before. He’d hurt your feelings before going to New Zealand, but that was different, wasn’t it? Fuck, not really. Before he’d said and done something stupid. In his mind, it was for a good reason. This time, you could see how he would have legit concern about what was going on. You banged your head down onto your knees. “SHIT!” you yelled at your stomach. Jared patted you hard on your back, “Atta girl, I knew you’d get there. Now what I’m about to say, I want you to take to heart and listen to me for once. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” He said staring you down. There was no malice in his voice, just frank talk for his stubborn friend. “Go home to the guy that would break me in two if you stay here another day. You two are stupid for each other, like, actually dumb. GO!” Jared followed you as you stuffed your things into a grocery bag and went to your Jeep in the garage. You put your bag on the passenger seat and paused to look at Jared through the open door. “It’ll be fine. Just don’t always think you know what’s best and, for God’s sake, let the man talk,” he instructed. “See you tomorrow?” you asked. You both were expected on set in the morning. He nodded, “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Fix this, (Y|N).” You started the Jeep and slowly made your way out of Jared’s neighborhood and back to the freeway to go home.

You went inside through the garage side entrance. Your grocery bag made a clunking sound as you set it on top of the dryer. Jeff’s truck and motorcycles were still in the garage, so you were reasonably sure he was home, but Bisou hadn’t come running to greet you. Jeff liked to sit on the patio while Bisou played in the yard, he’d even bought a heater so he could sit out there longer. You’d bought a heavy blanket so you both could sit out there and be warm together. You were so scared. Confrontation was not your favorite thing. When it was for work, you could go toe-to-toe with anyone. When it came to the people most important to you, the people you loved, you would crumble in a moment. There was something different about the kitchen and the house. The smell of lemon was in the air. He’d cleaned, he’d cleaned everything. The kitchen was never dirty, but now, it was shiny, squeaky clean. The wood floors in the rest of the house were bright and shiny, too. Everything was picked up and put away. You were standing in the same spot you were in the very first time you ever went to Jeff’s house. You could see him sitting on the patio love seat, the big blanket you bought on his lap. He saw you and you knew he saw you, he didn’t twitch. It was only 10am, but you went to the liquor cabinet in the dining room. You noticed the whisky was gone, but your Captain Morgan was still there. That rum was the only reason you kept Coke in the house. You grabbed the bottle, made the drinks in tall glasses and took them outside to the patio.

He hadn’t slept, not a whole night in three days. He’d doze off for an hour here and there, but nothing that could really be called rest. He felt terrible. He’d doubted her, let his insecurity get the better of him and accused her of messing around behind his back. It surprised him when she turned it back around on him. Gilmore Girls had a surprisingly rigorous filming schedule, (Y|N) was gone all the time. He knew how it was, how they worked hard all week then needed to blow off steam. Hell, he only came home early because he’d decided to NOT go to the wrap party. It took him a while, but he finally admitted to himself that it bothered him (Y|N) was spending so much time with another man, let alone one who was much younger than himself and one closer to her own age. He’d told himself that it wasn’t a big deal, and it hadn’t been, until this filming season. He’d let it go too long and he’d lost his temper instead of talking to her about it. He’d called her the day after it happened, but she didn’t answer. Before he’d stupidly run his mouth off, she was ready to come home with him. He’d text her a couple times asking her to please come home, to let him explain. He got no answer. Not knowing what else to do with himself, and as a sort of punishment, he supposed, he’d cleaned the entire house. Probably hadn’t been that clean in years, if ever… He’d slept more that morning, but he woke with a start only a few hours later. He took the big, fluffy blanket she’d bought and went outside with Bisou. It was around 10 when he heard the garage. A few more minutes and he saw her inside the house. He thought he might be seeing things. Wishing for her. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of him, offering a glass that he realized she was real.

You put the glass down on the table in front of him and yours as well because Bisou needed attention. You let the dog tackle you and smother you with kisses. You scratched her in all of her favorite places and when she was satisfied, you threw her ball for her a few times. Jeff didn’t say anything and neither did you. Finally, you turned around to look at Jeff. He looked how you felt. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I never meant to make you feel this way. I love you. Jared is my friend and only ever my friend. We just blew off steam. More often than not, I just took him home. It was only a few times that I stayed the night in his spare room.” You leaned over to get your glass and take a deep drink of the liquid. “I didn’t realize how it looked to you, and I’m sorry I accused you of screwing around, too.” He leaned over and picked up his glass. He took a drink and made eye-contact with you and his eyes flicked to the space next to him. He flipped the blanket up so you could sit and be covered, too. You sat next to him, unsure of how close he wanted you. As he put the blanket around your hip, his hand nudged you closer. You scooted closer so you were hip to hip and you were tucked into his side with his arm around you. The blanket kept you both warm and cozy. “I’m sorry, too, sweetheart. I was,” his voice hitched. You looked up at him and his face was a little red, his eyes teary. “I was worried. I know you were working and I know you’re dedicated to the job, but I was worried that you spent so much time with Jared because you wanted a younger man,” he explained. “And when I saw you with him the other night, it just looked bad.” You snake your free hand up his body, turning your face to him. You put your hand on his cheek and turn his face to you. You’re both emotional people and neither of you was doing too well just then. You quickly reach up to kiss his lips. “Are we okay?” you ask him. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the only one. There isn’t anything I need to worry about, right?” His arm came down around you and crushed you to him. It took him a few moments before he could speak, “Yeah, we’re good. You’re the only one I want. No one else compares.” He rubbed your back under the blanket and you enjoyed the feel of his body against your cheek. “Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day,” you said. “Babe, I need you,” he said. You looked up into his eyes and you didn’t need further explanation. You stood up and took his hand. He threw the blanket over his arm and told Bisou, “Inside!” as you led him in. The sex wasn’t rough, but he definitely let you know who you belonged to. You woke up tangled in sheets and Jeff. Jeff was sleeping soundly. There was still daylight coming in through the windows and, judging by your stomach, it was sometime after noon. You tried to see the clock without disturbing Jeff. 2pm. You moved as carefully as you could out of the hold Jeff had on you. He seemed to be so exhausted, he barely noticed when you crawled out of bed. You took a quick shower and went to go make the best Valentine’s Day lunch/dinner for the love of your life.

Jeff woke up to the smell of meat cooking and the sound of swing music on the stereo. God, I love that woman, he thought. (Y|N) didn’t like to cook, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t. Just by the smells that were hitting him, he knew she was grilling him a steak, her a chicken breast and that pasta dish she made that he couldn’t stop eating. He looked at the clock, it was almost 3pm. He rolled out of bed and took a nice hot shower. He was still tired, but he had a feeling he’d sleep better that night. When he was done, he pulled on his favorite lounge pants and a t-shirt then made his way to the kitchen. He peeked around the corner to find her with her hair piled on top of her head, wearing a shirt she stole from him and some sort of pants that went down to her calves. She was bustling about singing along to one of the songs. “K-A-L-A-M-A-Z-O-O-O-OHHHHH what a gal, a real pip-a-roooooo,” she sang. “Whatcha makin’?” he interrupted. She spun around and smiled brightly. Thank God, she didn’t hold a grudge. “Wanna help?” she asked. “I really shouldn’t be trying to get your steak right. I always make mine ‘done’.” He went over to where she was standing. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She put her hands on his waist and made a sound that made him want to take her back to bed. If he wasn’t so hungry, he would have done just that.

Despite a rough start to the day, it ended better than you could have hoped. You sat next to Jeff at the table, you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. It was like when you first got together with Jeff. You promised yourself you would never do anything that would ever cause him to call into question your love for him.

#second chances #jeffrey dean morgan #reader insert #jeff x you #kazosa #chapter 20

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