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realcube · 4 years ago

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jealous haikyuu!! boys

summary: the haikyuu!! boys getting jealous over you talking to a boy but as it turns out, that boy is in fact your relative

characters: third year gym squad (lev, hinata, bokuto, kuroo, tsukishima & akaashi)

thank you to anon for this sweet request! 💖

(y/n) = your name

(b/n) = brother’s name

tw// sexual references, swearing

Lev Haiba

he was already in a sour mood from practise bc kenma, kuroo & yaku had all ganged up on him so he was getting beat left, right & centre

so he was feeling extra confrontational when he laid eyes on you laughing and chatting with some other guy, in the spot where you usually stand and wait for him after practise

he was so mad >:(

like he just had a shitty day at school and now some punk was trying to flirt with you- and you didn’t seem to be uncomfortable either

DOES HIS SUFFERING KNOW NO END?! 😩😭

grrr like he had spent 90% of the day looking forward to seeing you and now you were talking to some other guy like he didn’t even exist :(

a part of him knew that he was being overdramatic but the other part of him was like ‘all feelings are valid, lev. 💕💖💗’

like he literally worked so hard to be the best boyfriend possible and this guy thought he could just swoop in and steal your heart??? without even letting you braid his hair yet???

yeah, lev had spent too much money on cat keychains to lose you this far into the game

also he loves you pls don’t leave him rn (y/n) 😭

so he marched up to you with a frown, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the back just like he usually does as a greeting, ‘hi, babe.’ he murmured.

your attention immediately shifted onto your boyfriend and you automatically pouted upon seeing his glum expression, ‘hiya. are you okay, hun? rough day at scho--’

he held your hand by his lips and muttered from behind your knuckles, ‘who’s this?’ he inquired, vaguely gesturing to your brother

‘oh, lev! this is my brother! i don’t think y’all have met yet.’

lev blinked rapidly at what you just said, ‘brother? like- male sibling.’

you nodded while simultaneously quirking an eyebrow at his need for clarification at the simplest piece of information, ‘yes. my male sibling.’

lev let out a heavy sigh of relief as his lips curled into a smile, softening his grip on your hand, allowing you to pull it away, ‘ah, okay.’

then he turned to your brother and stuck out his hand, ‘nice to mee-- you don’t look anything like (y/n).’ he chirped, all trances of sadness leaving his face - it was kinda creepy how quickly he was able to do that

model tingz

your brother shrugged, ‘yeah.’ he hastily took lev’s hand, giving it a firm shake before turning on his heels, ‘i should really get going now, bye!’ he called out before rushing off, quite intimidated by the fact you had a skyscraper for a boyfriend

lev turned to you, a warm smile now gracing his features

‘uh, where did all your gloom go? you looked miserable just a few seconds ago!’ you inquired, playfully poking his cheek

lev shrugged, poking your forehead in retaliation, ‘i don’t know. i’m here with you now so i guess i don’t have a reason to be sad.’ he said nonchalantly, forgetting the fact he had gotten the results for his midterms today and he had failed maths horribly

but who need maths when you’re a model yk?

Shōyō Hinata

bruh- hinata didn’t even notice you were talking to someone UIEFGBVFE

once practise was over he literally just ran up and threw himself at you

he has selective vision, he only sees the things he wants to see and rn, all he wants to see you under the moonlight 🥺

so he wraps you in a hug and peppers your face in kisses just like he usually does when he greets you after practise

then he noticed that there was some guy standing next to you, aggressively tapping your shoulder to request your attention even though hinata was clearly trying to tell you about his day at practise

he unintentionally scowled at the boy before cocking his head to the side and asking, ‘who are you?’

although this tone of voice didn’t seem too nasty; given the context - accompanied by the sour look on his face - the question seemed to have threatening undertones

you’re brother blinked rapidly before uttering, ‘i’m (b/n).’

he continued to stare daggers at the guy, ‘what do you want from (y/n)?’

‘the maths homework answers.’ your brother chuckled, continuing to playfully poke your shoulder until hinata swatted his hand away

‘she doesn’t owe you an--’

you were extremely confused as to why hinata took up such a serious demeanour but then you realised that he had never met your brother before, so hinata probably thought there was just some creepy harassing you for the homework answers

although you were charmed by your boyfriend’s attempts to be ‘scary’ for you, you still felt the need to intervene

‘oh, shōyō. that’s my brother, by the way.’ you hummed, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck

both your brother and your boyfriend slowly turned their heads to look at you, sharing the same dumbfounded look

‘your brother?!’ hinata exclaimed while your brother now looked rather offended, ‘you didn’t tell your boyfriend about me- rude!’

to be fair, your one year anniversary with shōyō was approaching so you feel foolish about not telling him about your brother sooner- it’s just that it never really crossed your mind

‘i’m fucking leaving.’ (b/n) spat, turning on his heels; trying to make it seem like he was storming out because he was upset that you hadn’t mentioned him to your boyfriend but in reality, he was just getting tired of prying at you for the homework answers

‘i’m fucking leaving too!’ hinata hissed, imitating your brother’s actions until he got the gate of the school, then he turned back around and shuffled back over to you

he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder and squeezing your waist tight as he whispered into your ear, ‘do you have any other secret siblings that you want to tell me about?’

you giggled, pressing a gentle kiss onto his collarbone ‘i don’t think so.’

Kōtarō Bokuto

mans thought you were leaving him 🥺

like why would you talk to another guy when you had a cool ace bf already? (˘･_･˘)

in bokuto’s mind, that could only mean one thing;

YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE HIM FOR AN EVEN COOLER ACE BOYFRIEND!! ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜

and the fact your brother was wearing a jersey didn’t help either

like, he doesn’t often get jealous when you talk to other guys but this one was wearing a JERSEY FFS!!! that meant he must be cool >:(((

also, you were laughing!

yeah, you sometimes laugh when you talk to akaashi or boys in your class but this time it was different

the guy looked familiar but bokuto couldn’t put a finger on who he was - but he knew that the guy wasn’t from Fukurōdani as the colors of his jersey were a fruity teal and white - and this made him feel even more uneasy

bokuto knew what he had to do

he had to win you back by being thE COOLEST ACE BOYFRIEND!!

he ran a hand through his hair to it was extra spiky before swaggering up to you; chin up, back straight and chest puffed out

‘sup, doll.’ he said with a wink, forcing his voice to deepen

you sighed, upon hearing this unusual nickname, it didn’t take you long to figure out what was going on

bokuto didn’t even let you reply as he dropped to one knee and gently took you hand - making both you and your brother’s breath hitch in unison, thinking that you were about to witness a proposal and knowing bokuto, that didn’t seem completely impossible

however, instead of pulling out a ring; he pressed a tender kiss against you knuckles before pulling the pair of earbuds you had left at his house yesterday, out of his pocket and lowering his head as he held them out for you

‘i humbly offer these to thee.’

‘how did you go from a pimp to prince in 3 seconds?’ you inquired, snatching your earbuds from him while shooting him a disapproving look

(b/n) couldn’t help but snicker at your boyfriends little performance, ‘i see he’s not changed a bit.’

bokuto hummed, looking over to meet eyes with your brother

(b/n) smiled shot him a warm smile, ‘hi, bokut--’

‘do i know you?’

you instinctively gasped while your brother just laughed, ‘i’m (b/n); (y/n)’s brother. we met once after one of your games, remember?’

bokuto did not remember - at all - but he trusted that it did happen as that’d explain why he seemed so familiar

to avoid appearing any more ignorant, bokuto just nodded in agreement, ‘oh, yeah! it’s all coming back to me now.’ he chuckled awkwardly while getting up from his knee, ‘you just look so different with your jersey on, man.’

you rolled your eyes at how poor bokuto’s lying skills were but perhaps you should be more disappointed in your brother as he actually fell for it

‘oh, for real?’ (b/n) asked, looking down at his chest while wondering if jersey really did the trick

needless to say, bokuto never forgot your brother’s face ever again lmao

Tetsurō Kuroo

upon exiting the building (after practise) and seeing you conversing with some guy by the school gates, he wasted no time in ripping his shirt off and parading over to you

he mentally reassured himself that he had no need to be jealous bc there was no way you’d leave his fine-ass for some average guy that made you laugh by the school gate-- WAIT YOU WERE LAUGHING!?!? ◉_◉

i mean, kuroo had made you laugh before- but you were just being so nice to this guy who he’d never seen around the school before which stressed him

plus, the guy looked like he was in college so kuroo was extremely worried that you might leave him for an older guy bc he had heard from yaku that some ppl like older men 😭😭

he could not let this happen ✋

his shirt now served as a scarf hanging around his neck as he strutted up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention

he wasn’t sure whether to go for the intimidation tactic or perhaps redirect your attention off of the guy and back onto your dearest boyfriend; so he went with both

‘(y/n)?’ he spoke, lowering his voice so it was more raspy - like his morning voice which he knew you were obsessed with

although kuroo is not ‘chemistry nerd’ smart, he definitely knows how to play his cards right IEFBERGLIEABVR

you hummed in response, swiftly turning to look at him before letting out a cackle upon seeing your half-naked boyfriend standing behind you

‘hey! don’t laugh at me!’ kuroo whined, his mask of confidence quickly shattering

‘put your shirt back on, tetsurō!’ you panted through guffaws, clutching your chest to prevent your heart from beating out of your chest

honestly, it was quite hot but ofc you’d never admit that so you just had to hide your desire behind laughs

while you were laughing, kuroo turned to look at your brother, trying to form a glare but it looked more like a squint tbh

‘and you are?’

(b/n) wore a stunned look at how quickly your boyfriend’s attitude changed, temporarily unable to think up a reaction but then blurted out, ‘(b/n). you?’

(b/n) cocked his head to the side while backing up slightly, ready to make a run for it as soon as kuroo replied

kuroo didn’t intimidate (b/n), per se, it’s just that (b/n) wanted to get as far away from this interaction as possible as it generally made him feel uneasy

‘i’m (y/n)’s boyfriend.’ he said lowly with a menacing smile

‘cool.’ (b/n) voice cracked as he adjusted the strap of his bag before launching off into the horizon on his heels

a smug expression was plastered on his face as he gazed proudly at his work - he had managed to scare off an upperclassman with sheer manliness

by now, your laughing fit had died down and your lips formed a frown as you watched your brother bolt over to his car, hop in and drive away - presumably, back to your home

‘hey.’ you moaned, watching until his car turned a corner and left your vision, ‘he was my ride home!’

kuroo’s soul almost left his body upon hearing you say that, ‘you shouldn’t be getting in cars with crusty, older men anyway!’

you rolled your eyes, ‘he’s my brother, dumbass!’

IEHFBEVJEAU kuroo shut tf up immediately 😶

‘oops- my bad.’ he snickered before jogging out the school gates, ‘have fun walking, babe!’ he threw up a piece sign before disappearing round a corner in a similar way that your brother did

Kei Tsukishima

tsukishima had just finished practise, he walked out the gym to notice that you were talking to some guy next to the vending machine

he literally almost had a heart-attack bc he thought it was kageyama

but no

IT WAS WORSE

tsukishima never really got jealous when you talked to other guys bc he knew they really had nothing in comparison to him lol

i mean, tsukishima knew he was a catch: he’s lanky, bitchy, tall, rude, emotionally-distant, tall, untrusting, tall, insecure, surly, a horrible cook- did i mention he’s tall?

ok so maybe he wasn’t as much of a catch as he originally thought but the fact he is tall is really the thing that’s holding together his façade of arrogance

so imagine his shock when he sees you happily chatting away to a guy that’s 6″4 !!!!!!

for clarification, tsukishima is 6″2

tsukishima passed away on the spot 💀⚰

he had already logged onto Instagram and removed the ‘Taken 🔒’ out of his bio

there’s no way he’s gonna be able to win you back now ✌😔

he’s had his time has your tall bf- it’s time to resign

BUT HE WASN’T GONNA GIVE UP THAT EASILY

not before he indulged in some bitchery ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

he practised the scene 10 times in his head before executing it, starting by striding up to you and slipping an arm round your waist, pulling you against his chest

his eyes held a penetrating stare on your brother from above the edge of his glasses, he snickered mockingly as his index finger pushed the frames further up the bridge of his nose

honestly, tsukki tried his best to hide it but he was genuinely quite nervous not only bc he actually had to look up slightly to hold eye contact with the guy - which is something he’s obviously not used to - but also due to the fact he simply could not come up with a good insult for this guy; even though he was usually quite good at spotting people’s insecurities ‘:(

hence, all he could to was produce a deriding chuckle which was aimed towards the guy in hopes that it was make him feel half as insecure as tsukishima was feeling rn

‘what’s so funny?’ you asked, clueless to your boyfriend having an internal breakout while standing right beside you

tsukishima rolled his eyes, realising that the guy seemed unfazed by his dirty looks so it seemed as thought tsukki would have to crack up the pettiness

‘who’s this chump, (y/n)?’ tsukishima leaned in to semi-whisper in your ear, but loud enough so your brother could still hear

‘tsukki!’ you gasped at your boyfriend’s choice of words before scolding him further, ‘that’s my brother- he’s a 3rd year!’

tsukishima paled

he bowed to the point where he was basically a right angle ‘m-, uh, my apologies, sir. i ha-, um, i had no idea you were related to (y/n).’

he was sO EMBARASSED AAAAAAAAAAA

your brother reassured him it was fine but tsukki was apologising for another 5 minutes after that

he promised himself never to get jealous again after that (ಥ _ ಥ) it only leads to trouble

no matter how tall the guy is either-

he swore that if he ever saw a 9″ guy talking to you and it upset him, he’d just close his eyes 😑

he probably should’ve promised to stop running his mouth too bc that’d probably result in a lot less trouble but- baby steps, y’all LMAO

Keiji Akaashi

i can’t really imagine akaashi as the type to get jealous tbh

and if he does, he deals with it pretty well

like if sees you talking with a guy in a way that bothers him, he’s definitely not confrontational enough to deal with it right there so he’d wait until y’all are alone at home or sumn

but you had been acting especially distant lately

so when he spots you hanging with some random guy next to the water fountain, he kinda snaps

he stalked up to you so he could take your hand in his own, asking if he could borrow just a moment of you time so he could talk to you

you accept, of course, wondering what this could possibly be about

he explains how he’s been feeling and you feel quite bad tbh

you weren’t aware that you were detaching yourself from him but you had to blame your schoolwork tbh

once you expressed how schoolwork along with the stress of your job had really been getting you down lately so you asked you brother for assistance, he immediately pulled you into a hug

the last thing he wanted was or it to seem like he was desperate for your attention bc although it was nice, he respected how you had to prioritize other things/people

in fact, he only brought this issue up bc it was beginning to eat him from the inside out - his insecurities telling him that you had lost interest in him and like anyone else, he desired a bit of comfort

you reassured him that you hadn’t ‘lost interest’ in him and you separation as well as you current closeness with you brother was all to do with your workload and hopefully, sometime in the near future, you’ll be able to sit down, relax and just watch a movie with akaashi

that was all fair and lovely but there was still one thing that continued to bother him

‘who’s that guy you were talking to?’ he inquired, gesturing to your brother who was awkwardly standing alone by the fountain

‘my brother.’

‘oh-’

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flying-nimbus-cloud · 4 years ago

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Reasons why myself and others thought that Evan Peters was going to play Peter Maximoff in WandaVision:

(Cause I'm tired of people being like, "There were no evidence or reasons to think he was the Quicksilver from the X-Men." Or "Your expectations were to high." 😧)

They casted Evan Peters. I know they needed to make it clear to the audience that this was a "fake" version of Wanda's brother, so using Evan Peters would connect some dots. But it's the fact that he's actually a random person that's so odd. Let's just say if Agatha used anyone else other than Ralph Bohner in WestView, would Wanda have reacted the same way? I guess it didn't matter how Wanda herself reacted specifically, because the writers were counting on the audience to react and assume who he's supposed to be because of his previous role in the X-Men franchise. Like imagine that scene with a completely different actor, not Evan or Aaron, it wouldn't have been the same right? Marvel knew that unfortunately and played off of our previous knowledge and nostalgia for Peter Maximoff from the X-Men.

He was playing the role of "Quicksilver". This is immensly self explanatory but Evan Peters did play Quicksilver in the X-Men and in WandaVision he literally played a version of Quicksilver. Sort-of. In the behind the scenes of WandaVision in Marvel Studios Assembled, the name they put beside Evan Peters was Pietro Maximoff, without the quotations. Why not use the name Ralph Bohner??? That was his actual identity in the show according to the finale, right? Anyway, his role was so meta and fun that fans truly thought it should mean something more.

His outfits. The first time we see Ralph, he has the same aesthetic and fashion sense as Peter Maximoff. The goddamn leather jacket. What character prominently loves to wear leather jackets? PETER MAXIMOFF. The sleeveless shirt with boxers is something Peter might chill or sleep in. The Halloween episode LITERALLY HAD HIM DRESSED AS QUICKSILVER. And the modern smurf outfit looks like Peter struggling with modern fashion lol. Ralph even had a watch on his wrist at all times, just like Peter does.

The personality. I saw people saying that his personality wasn't anything like Peters, and I disagree. I think Ralph had an over exaggerated version of Peters personality. He was a goofball man-child which is essentially what Peter is. Ralph stole kids candy and vandalized property and squashed pumpkins using his powers....sounds like something our mischievous theif would do with his powers, right? And we know that Evan Peters is a very diverse actor, so it isn't his acting abilities at fault here.

Environment and habit. Peter Maximoff would somewhat mooch off his mother, lived in her basement and turned it into a mancave. Ralph Bohner mooched off his fake sister while he slept on her couch and even had a mancave of his own, but instead of the basement it was the attic of his house. Both have very similar vibes.

Comic Relief. Peter was literally one of the only comic reliefs of the new X-Men movies which all took themselves pretty seriously, character and story wise. In WandaVision despite it all being immensely funny, Ralph's character was like a heightened comic relief compared to everyone else. Similar to a sitcom, it was all a bit more cheesy and on the nose with his humor.

The Nexus Commercial. It was essentially saying that Wanda is a Nexus being. Which means for the Multiverse, Wanda is the one constant in every realm or universe. And now its confirmed that she does have powerful Chaos Magic that can take and shape reality. So the possibility of a alternate universe twin brother showing up in her made up reality Hex wouldn't have been that far fetched.

Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness. It was confirmed and told right to the fans that WandaVision would go directly into the Multiverse of Madness. So assuming that characters who've already been established coming over to the MCU to cause some literal madness felt sort of expected. I can't be the only one that thinks having an actor who played Quicksilver in another universe showing up in the thing that was said to lead into a literal Multiverse movie isn't that crazy.

Powers. If one other person tells me that Agatha can literally give people superpowers because "mAgIC", imma lose my mind. That's so OP and the fact that she can grant people literal superpowers is never addressed annoys me greatly. Also if Agatha is so powerful, why couldn't she make Ralph at least look like Wandas actual brother lol.

The alarm. (I forgot to add this one until just now lol) When Ralph shows up at Wandas door an alarm goes off at Swords base that causes agents and Darcy to run around in a panic. Quickie fans and myself thought that indicated that something or someone, possibly Peter Maximoff had just entered the Hex. But the show never addressed the alarm again.

The creators and plot. Marvel knew what they were doing when casting Evan Peters, they just never planned to pay it off. Which is such a shame. Because this show was one of the coolest things Marvel has ever produced, it was enjoyable and super unique. But they have to understand by having a shit load of red herrings and plot holes with almost no payoff will and did leave fans rather frustrated. The Ralph Bohner joke is one plot thread that most can agree on, was an absolute let down.

#savequicksilver #peter maximoff #quicksilver #evan peters #wandavision #ralph bohner #marvel studios assembled #mcu #x men #marvel #marvel studios

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glitterfairy-21225 · 4 years ago

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In which Peter has a child while stuck in the mcu: *takes deep breath*

He’s definitely living with Wanda post WV, so she’s there.

I don’t know a lot about inhumans but I know a little. Maybe Crystal is on earth for some reason, or the royal family just invites Wanda to the moon after learning about Westview b/c they want the tea, I guess. But Crystal and Peter meet.

They don’t get married, they don’t even officially date, so when Crystal announces she’s pregnant literally everyone is blindsided.

Wanda’s reaction is the best. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s her facial expressions as this is all going down. Her facial expressions.

Peter panics. Obviously. He runs around frantically with no rhyme or reason. He trashed his room. He’s screaming at a pitch only Crystal’s giant dog can hear.

He confides in Wanda about his piles of daddy issues, compounded by the fact that he never told his father the truth.... And also the fact that he was a terrorist.

But now it’s like, what happens if he goes back to his universe. He doesn’t want to to be an absentee father.

So he makes a difficult decision to stay in the mcu for the child. He still wants to go back to the x men to make sure his friends and family know he’s okay, but he wants to stay with his kid.

In the wake of his decision, Peter is high on emotion and decides that he needs to go the extra mile for this fatherhood schtick.

So he and Crystal elope.

Literally. Everyone. Thinks. This. Is. Questionable.

They’re divorced before she gives birth.

Not even a bitter divorce, just a ‘Ok, marriage at this point was probably a mistake.....’ divorce.

He and Wanda binge watch kids movies that came out from after he was taken from the x men.

Labor time!

Peter’s definitely a ping-pong whatever. When Crystal cries, he cries. When she screams, he screams.

But then Luna is born and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life, and he just can’t. He’s crying on his own behalf.

Crystal holds her first, and then Peter, and the first thing he says to her is with teary eyes, so loving, so tenderly, is ‘You are gonna piss so many people off,’ in the softest voice you can imagine.

When the rest of the family comes in to meet her, Peter turns on the Lion King music, which he saw in the binge, and holds her up.

Wanda gets to hold her next, and Peter’s all ‘Meet your Aunt Wanda, Luna!’ And it’s a moment, because yeah, Tommy and Billy called him uncle, and he’s made it clear he loves them as such, but that was when he was brainwashed, so this. This is such a moment for Wanda.

And Wanda misses her boys so much, but the amount of love she feels for this girl overwhelms her bad she really believes she’s not alone anymore.

Afterwards, the three of them (Peter, Wanda, and Luna) are all curled up on a hospital bed together. Like they would be if Peter was the one who gave birth, but instead they just stole a bed to cuddle on because they’re emotionally drained.

Crystal is giving them the side eye from the other bed like, *guys it’s my special day too.*

Peter looks down at his bundle of joy and decides to make a speech to her.

He takes a deep breath. ‘Luna Maximoff’ (‘We did not discuss last names, Peter!’) ‘Your father is.... the problem in every relationship he has ever had. Except for the ones with people who are bigots, those guys suck. And he’s gonna be problem in ours. But I promise you, even if I make a million mistakes, and I will, I will try my very best to make sure you are the one person in this family who’s life isn’t made up of one traumatic experience after the other. Because you are the love and light of my life.’

Awwww.

Oh and Wanda definitely has a himym moment where she looks back all the stupid stuff Peter has done and thinks, ‘That guys a dad now.’

Except her flashback was from that morning.

Of course, that doesn’t get rid of all his deep emotional baggage. And he’s so worried about messing Luna up that he’s a complete motherhen.

He rants to Wanda, ‘Let’s face it, you and I are both going to hell,’ Because even if he loves Wanda, he’s not gonna excuse what she did to Westview, and for himself he has self esteem issues. So Wanda is :000. But Peter just continues. ‘But I really don’t want that for her!’

Anyways, Wanda starts hearing her kids and that kicks off their next big adventure, with Peter reluctantly leaving Luna with her mom.

He writes her a final letter in case he dies so she knows he loves her very much. But don’t worry, Peter’s not gonna die, so this is just a character quirk for now. It’s always quirky until someone dies.

I know that the ‘X men see WandaVision broadcast’ thing should logically stop after episode seven, but for this we’re gonna say the broadcast showed the entire, actual show, with all the SWORD and Agatha stuff. And then it starts playing Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness! And there’s a flashback to Luna’s birth.

It’s been a few years, and the x men have already had a funeral for him, so seeing this is..... wow.

Raven’s long since spilled the beans to Erik about his son, and he’s not been taking it well.

So seeing that his son is not only alive and well, but that he also has a granddaughter, (and maybe even an au daughter) makes him cry in front of everyone.

Also, maybe the team was just a bit unappreciative of him, not enough for us to bash them, but enough to make them feel guilty. So seeing him thriving without them stirs up some emotions.

Also maybe he has an ex on the team, and it ended because Peter’s bad at handling things. For maximum feels.

They know from the broadcast that Peter plans to stay in the mcu with his daughter and that makes them all sad, but it’s a really good reason and they’re almost all sensible enough to accept this.... After a proper goodbye of course.

We’ll get back to Erik’s feelings in a sec.

They make a portal, and all go to the mcu to help out in the final fight. They reunite with Peter, who runs to get Luna, even though she’s not on earth, so that they can all meet her.

Erik holds Luna and goes ‘You will lead millions! Willingly or as slaves.’

It reminds him of holding Nina and he wishes he held Peter and it’s so special.

They say their goodbyes.

Meanwhile, Erik is conflicted, because his child (children) is staying in alternate universe and this is where his granddaughter is, so if he can’t convince them to come back to the x men verse then maybe the best thing he can do is move to the mcu.

But Charles a school to look after, so that leads a horrible question; Will Cherik have to break up again?

Doctor Strange just rolls his eyes and says fuck it, because reality is already messed up so why not? And he gives the Maximoffs a key to crossover whenever they want. And it only works for them.

So Luna has all the inhumans and all the x men loving her so much, with the best dad, aunt, and grandpas in both worlds.

And of course with the coolest cousins a girl could ask for!

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cazzyvintage · 4 years ago

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Born to be wild - Chapter 1

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren't prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: And away we go! First chapter lads. This is a long series so a lot of building up to do so stick around. Idk how frequent updates will be but I will try to make them quite frequent

Warnings: Reference to misogyny, swearing

Navigation

Born to be wild masterlist

(Please check out navigation to see what I will be writing next, add yourself to my taglist and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

You were here.

Finally, after years of preparation, years of people, men, telling you that you couldn’t do it. That racing was a man’s sport, that a woman could never have the same skills, drive and determination that men had when it came to racing. That you just couldn’t do it. Now you stood here, feet on the warm cement, eyes glimmering with excitement as you looked over the F1 banner, ready to enter the garage for the first time, ready for qualifying for tomorrows race.

The first female F1 driver.

Ever since you were a little girl you had the need for speed. You created your own go-carts out of spare bits and bobs your father had from his garage. You raced the other neighbour’s kids down the street to see who would win and be crowned the coolest kid around. The way the wind flew through your hair, the feeling of it rushing past your face, seeing everything move slowly and fastly at once, it was intoxicating for you. When you first found out about Formula 1, it was still in its early days and people often would take the mick out of it, your parents included but you badgered them constantly to take you to a race, and finally, after years of begging they gave in and took you to see it seeing how your heart was set upon it.

After watching the race you had instantly turned around to them and told them that was what you wanted to do. You wanted to be an F1 racer. They tried to persuade you to seek a different job, a respectable one for a lady such as a secretary. They even suggested that you could be a secretary for an F1 team, but that wasn’t what you wanted and you would never feel that satisfaction in life if you weren’t within that seat, if you hand wasn’t on that wheel, if you weren’t crossing that finishing line.

It had been a rough start. No one wanted to hier you as they thought you would be nowhere near as successful as a man could be. Time and time again you were trying to apply for test outs and met with rejections at every corner to the point where you even considered just throwing your hat in. Would you be spending your whole life just trying to get in but being denied all the time just because you were born a woman. But when you were at your lowest you were met with a shining light. One team wanted to try you out. They made no promises but they were willing to give you a try, and that was all it took.

Once you were out on the tracks you could show off your skill, your ability to make quick decisions, how you were able to work the car to how you wanted it and no one could deny after that, you were a dam fine driver. You were taken on and started racing in small F3 races, in the hopes that a bigger company might spot you and choose to get you into F1, and after a few years of waiting, it happened. You were signed on.

A lot of other people from F3 were in an uproar about it, claiming you did all sorts of things to get in, claiming it was only for diversity but at this point, you didn’t care. Everything you had ever wanted was coming true. Your whole dream was becoming a reality and now there was only one last step for you. To win the championship.

You had been signed on to the F1 team, ‘Tyrrell-Ford’ and previously a week ago you had met your new teammate, Patrick Depailler. You had been worried about how his reaction might have been to you, fearing the man might have felt offended merely by your presence but he had been exceedingly nice to you and quickly your fears disappeared into excitement for getting to work with him.

You could see him now, coming out of your shared garage, holding up his hand in greeting and smiling politely at you. He wore a blue boiler suit, similar to yours, he had a white turtle neck under which just about poked out of his suit. His hair was cut short and stuck to his head in sweat from the warmth of the day but still, you could see the slight curls within the hair. He had a more prominent jawline than some men but his most distinctive feature upon his face was his large nose. You strolled over meeting him halfway and his grin grew as he placed a firm hand upon your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

“You’re first time on the grounds here in Brazill huh? How you feel?” he asked, his french accent heavily accentuated as his hand, tightly grasping your shoulder makes you walk beside him as he leads you to the main area.

“Amazing, I feel so excited being able to be here and I just can’t wait to get in the car and get out on the course!” you eagerly told him, bouncing on your heels, making him chuckle.

“I still feel the same way after all these years. I haven’t been able to stand still yet. But all in due time. I think it’s time you meet the rest of the racers”

Your fist naturally clenches as sudden nerves light up within you, but you swallow trying to push them down. You were used to meeting new people and you had every right as they had to be there. There is nothing to worry about.

“How do you think, they will… you know”

His face turns to yours again and offers a sympathetic smile, knowing the struggles you’ve likely gone through already to be there. “Most of them? Won’t give two shits. All they will care about is if you can drive well. They are men though, especially one of them I’d advise keeping an eye on. He’s gained quite the reputation around other women” he begins to explain but cuts himself off as he chuckles. “There is, of course, the rat, but he’s an asshole to everyone so you need not worry about him”

“I assume the first one you are talking about is James Hunt, and the rat would be Niki Lauda,” you say, thinking back to all the research you had been doing on the racers who you would be joining on the tracks.

“Ah so you’ve done you’re research, smart girl. Yes, you’d be right, but the news doesn’t truly show you what it’s like to know these men. They’re likely not what you expect”

He then pauses again and huffs in a burst of slight laughter, “Or maybe they are exactly what you expect”

You both turn a corner and instantly you felt eyes gaze upon you as you reach the section where all the drivers were preparing to start the qualifying. Patrick still kept a firm hand upon your shoulder as he guided you around, introducing you to all the other racers. Some of them like Patrick were nice and wished you well for tomorrow, some of them were standoffish, hardly saying any words to you as they looked at you in distain, and then Patrick leads you over to the man who currently had his legs spread out on his seat and was flashing you one of his well-known grins as his shaggy blonde hair falls down over his face. His jawline was incredible and made you feel like you could cut yourself on how sharp it was. He was seen as Britain’s heartthrob and everywhere he went he had women drooling over him, and looking at him in person for the first time you could understand why.

“James Hunt, he needs no introduction,” Patrick says, motioning his hand to James and instantly he was off his seat and extending his hand for you to shake.

“I’ve always said we need more girls around and in the cars, I’m glad they are starting to listen,” he says shaking your hand firmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” you reply back, still almost in a daze, you were standing before the James Hunt.

“The pleasure is all mine love. I’m looking forward to getting to know you on the track” and then he pauses, and winks at you, “And off the track. I assume you’ll be attending all the parties. They are the best aren’t they Patrick”

“They are known to become quite a ruckus”

“But that’s all the fun! You’ll love them, you look like the kind of girl that would enjoy a party like that, uh?”

You almost mentally slapped yourself in realising you hadn’t even told him your own name yet, “Y/n, y/n, l/n”

“And that, is a beautiful name, like one of those greek goddesses”

You scoff though your lips twitch up into a smile. You cross your arms as you slowly start to grow used to what James is like, “And how many times do you repeat that to all the women you try to woe?”

James’s eyebrows furrow and he puts on a fake frown at your words, “I have you know, I have never said that to another woman before”

“Do you even know the names of the Greek goddesses?” Partick asks and James was quick to reply with “That is beside the point”

It causes the three of you to laugh though. Like you had seen in all the newspapers James was a flirt, a playboy, but he seemed like someone you could get along with, share a few jokes with and that you were looking forward to.

“You’d think with the amount of laugher here this wasn’t a place where people risk their lives and die”

James tilts his head back and lets out a groan of fake annoyance as he then turns around and you can see the man standing behind James, hand on hip looking extremely pissed off. His hair was a lot curlier than Patrick, and a lot thicker. It was chestnut brown with complimented his hazelnut eyes. His hair was all messy though, scattered across his forehead, the roots starting to become soken with sweat. While he didn’t have the cutting jawline that James possessed which drew women wild, his cheeks bones were more pronounced likely due to the most distinctive feature which was his overbite. His lips covered most of it but still, you could see his two front teeth slightly, which had earned him the nickname, the rat.

“Well, well if it isn’t the rat” James states, sucking his lip onto his top teeth to imitate Niki’s overbite in an attempt to make you laugh.

“Do I have to tell you every time, I don’t mind being called a rat. Rats are smart-”

It seemed as if Niki was going to continue talking but James cut him off again, leaving Niki to suck his cheeks in, in annoyance.

“Why are you here Niki, can’t you bugger off somewhere else”

“I came to see what was causing a buzz in everyone. I don’t understand the excitement”

James steps aside so Niki could see you clearly and Patrick finally takes his hand off your shoulder to introduce you to him.

“Niki, this is y/n, she’s Tyrell-Ford’s new racer”

Niki scoffs, his eyes looking you up and down in distain. “Everyone knows Tyrell is crap”

Patrick’s kind smile falters, a usual grimace that usually appears when talking to Niki arrives on his face instead. “Yes thank you for your opinion, Niki, we all really needed to hear it”

“You’re welcome. Still, I don’t see what all the fuss is. When other drivers join you couldn’t give two craps James, only when you have the chance of getting your dick wet are you suddenly alert”

James’ fists clenched as his face reddens and he takes a stride towards Niki, ready to go for a blow till Patrick steps between them trying to calm down the situation. “He’s only trying to aggravate you to throw you off your game before qualifying James”

“He’s a cunt, and needs a punch right in that ugly face of his” James seethes, taking one last glance between you, Patrick and Niki then storming off to try and cool down. You on the other hand were glaring daggers into Niki, also angered by his rude remarks about you. Niki feels your gaze and his face turns to you again, matching your heated eyes with his ice-cold ones and he refused to break eye contact first.

“When they say you are an asshole, they really mean it huh” you finally spit out.

“I only say what is true, if that makes me an asshole then so be it.”

“I trust that means you don’t have many friends”

Niki tilts his head as he continues to observe you, “Why would I need friends? I’m happy as I am”

You could feel your irritation for him grow stronger and you open your mouth to continue arguing with Niki when another driver jogs up to him, placing his hand upon his shoulder, “Niki, the boss wants to talk to you”

Niki frowned, in confusion and annoyance but shoved his hands in his pockets, mumbling under his breath about how he had seen the boss only half an hour ago. He took a few steps away before pausing and throwing you another look over his shoulder, his lips still cast in a frown “Good luck for tomorrow. You will need it”

You sucked on your bottom lip, trying to not shout back at him and give him the satisfaction of an answer. When he was a safe distance however you muttered under your breath “What a dick”

“I’m sorry about that y/n, but he’s like that with everyone, it’s best to ignore it,” Patrick tells you, shooting you an apologetic glance before turning to the other man. “What did the boss want with Niki?”

“Oh nothing, I just said that so he would go away”

The man cracked a smile and held his hand out to you for you to shake, “I’m Clay Regazzoni, Niki’s teammate”

The swiss man had tanned skin, a bushy moustache and long dark hair but his features were kind and certainly appeared a lot friendlier than his teammate.

“Niki’s teammate? I don’t know how you cope with that” you say shaking his hand back.

He grins at your statement, clicking his mouth as if thinking, “Alcohol, a lot of alcohol”

And with the removal of Niki’s presence, the laughter was brought back to the atmosphere.

“But really, Niki, he says what’s on his mind, and usually all shit and not worth listening to, but he’s an okay guy when you get to know him, you just have to put up with his bad days” Clay finally says as the three of you are able to control your laughter again.

“Which are most days” Patrick finishes.

Clay took a glance over to the direction where Niki had gone five minutes ago and with a nod of his head bit the two of your farewell, claiming he should leave before Niki gets back demanding to know why he had lied to him. Now you had met all the drivers, Patrick leads you back over to your shared garage, and with an excited smile, he lifted up the gate for you to be able to take a look at your new car. It was dark blue with your number and name pressed onto the side surrounded by a few sponsorship brands. Your heart nearly skipped a beat as your eyes widened in excitement.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

You smile, your eyes never leaving the car, “I was born ready”

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seokiie · 5 years ago

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𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝙼)

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 (𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯) 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2𝘬+

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴��, 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘴' 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵

It wasn't every day that you were invited out to a dinner party.

It wasn't every day that Jungkook himself invited you out to a dinner party.

As soon as you'd gotten the call, you searched through your closet for your nicest dress. It just so happened that your nicest dress was also your skimpiest. Welp, you had plenty of cardigans you could wear.

The reason Jungkook inviting you out to a dinner party was such a rare deal was simply because he liked keeping his work life and personal life separate. During the duration of your year-long relationship, you'd only ever met his six other bandmates three times. Three times. Of course, you knew it was in his best interest to keep you as far away from his busy idol life as possible. You only really met up in private to avoid prying cameras and invasive fans. He was also a bit possessive and uncharacteristically jealous for someone as hot as himself. He's always said things like, 'you're mine, don't even think about looking at other men'. You never had any complaints, though - a possessive Jungkook never failed to set your skin on fire.

"Wah, this is what you're wearing? You're really trying to make dinner difficult for me, huh." Jungkook looks up at you as you slide into the booth next to him, a wide smirk on his face. You'd arrived at the fancy restaurant via private car. It was safer if no one saw you arrive. When you're seated at the table with the seven men, you look around and realize that the whole establishment is empty, not counting the few bodyguards and waiters littered around.

"I couldn't find anything else under the lines of 'fancy but not too fancy, but still fancy enough for a fancy restaurant'." You laugh quietly and scoot closer to him till your thighs were just barely touching. You haven't seen him in almost three weeks. He had a busy schedule along with some overseas promos but you're just glad he's finally back.

"Regardless you look fucking delicious- I mean, that isn't quite appropriate for this setting..." You watch as his eyes roam over your frame hungrily. A familiar warmth curls through your body when a big hand covers your bare thigh. "You look fucking delightful."

"Ah, look at our Jungkookie! He's flirting, cute." Jimin giggles from where he's sat on the other side of Jungkook. You and a few of the other members laugh. Jungkook can't help laughing as well.

The dinner carries on nicely. You'd been a bit nervous at first because you didn't know the other members too well, but it seems you were nervous for no reason. Hoseok in particular managed to break you out of your shell the most with his antics and smiley demeanor. Somehow just sitting across from him made you excited.

A few minutes after placing orders, some appetizers are brought out while dinner is being made. While you were drifting between quiet and sociable, you weren't too fond of the fact that Jungkook had only said two sentences to you over the past thirty minutes - and that was when you arrived. Maybe you were just being overly clingy. You weren't gonna lie, you were pretty touch starved after going Jungkook-free for a couple of weeks.

You place a hand on his leg, just above his knee under the table. You were rightfully seeking attention in your opinion.

He doesn't seem to notice the hand on his leg and continues his conversation with Seokjin who was sitting across the table. Fine. You'd turn it up a notch.

"Y/n, it's been so long since we saw you. It's been three months I think." You look up to meet eyes with whoever was talking to you. It was Hoseok.

"Oh, yeah! I know how busy you guys are. You all work so hard."

"Ah, we try. By the way, if you're comfortable, you can talk casually. We've known each other long enough... even if we don't talk often." Hoseok gives a warm smile and you're dully aware of Jungkooks thigh tensing under your hand slightly. When you look over, he seems to still be conversing with Jin. You smirk.

"If it's alright with you. I heard working overseas was stressful, I was so worried when Jungkook called me..." You continue talking to Hoseok for a bit.

Jungkook was doing a good job ignoring the conversation going on to his right, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little frustrated. He knows he shouldn't get mad at his friend talking casually to his girlfriend but come on. Everyone knew he had a little green monster sitting on his shoulder, especially you.

It isn't until he feels your almost searing hand crawl up his thigh that he fully grasps the situation. You knew he had a little green monster sitting on his shoulder. You knew this and you were talking to his hyung casually while touching him deliberately under the table. Did you want his attention that bad?

Sometimes Jungkook seriously wondered how his relationship with you worked out because you were so petty and holy shit, he was petty, too. So, so petty. If this was a game, he was not going to back down. He'd make sure you wouldn't get an ounce of his attention tonight.

That proves easier said than done because not only five minutes later, your hand is rubbing teasingly slow up and down his thigh, dangerously close to where his cock is nestled safely inside his dress pants.

Jungkook barely notices the way his legs open a little wider, inadvertently asking for more of your touch. Whatever Seokjin was talking about, Jungkook can't remember. Half his brain was focusing on trying not to get hard and the other half was trying to keep a straight face. Luckily, he was a good actor.

His dick? Not so much.

A minute passes before the teasing stops and suddenly there's a hand palming him through his designer clothes. Mid-sentence, he cuts himself off with a gasp. It's been so long since someone has touched him - since he's touched himself.

"You okay, Jungkook?" Jimin asks from beside him and Jungkook has no choice but to twist his startled expression into a small smile.

"Fine, just hungry. Can't wait for the food to come out." Jimin makes a sound of agreement. Thankfully, he doesn't hold his attention for long. Jimin turns back around to continue talking to Namjoon after giving him a concerned look. As soon as he's sure there are no eyes on him, Jungkook grabs your arm tightly and yanks you closer to him a little too roughly. This wasn't entirely uncommon. Jungkook was really, really strong and sometimes he forgot that he was... really, really strong. He had the tendency to drag you around and expressed guilt a few times thinking he's hurt you. In reality, it wasn't too bad and for some reason, you kind of enjoyed having Jungkook jerk you around. Especially in bed.

"Fuck do you think you're doing?" Jungkook says in a tone you can only describe as yelling as quietly as he can. His lips just barely ghosted over the shell of your ear and in an attempt to regain authority, you rub him a little harder through his pants, digging your palm slightly into the obvious bulge forming there. You can feel his cock twitch under your hand and he bites back a gasp.

"Nothing." You comment almost nonchalantly.

"Do you want to die? I'll give you a chance to let go, maybe I'll go easy on you when we get home." Jungkook hisses in your ear and now it's your turn to bite back a gasp. Negligent of his proposition, you continue touching him. Surprisingly, he had managed to get fully hard already, his cock having thickened up and now left a visible mark in his pants.

"Ah, foods here. Jungkook, your steak." At the sound of his name, Jungkook lets go of your arm almost as if your skin burned him. Seokjin takes the plates from the waiter and hands them to the respective member with Namjoon's help. Your food is placed in front of you but you barely pay any attention to it. How could you when there was a way better meal sitting right next to you?

The dinner continues like this for a bit. You stop touching him for a little while, waiting till he lets his guard down and brings a fork full of steak up to his mouth before returning your hand to his clothed length. He lets out a surprised, almost choked out moan only to slap a hand over his mouth. You have to hold back a snigger.

"Kookie, you sure you're okay?" Taehyung is looking at the maknae expectantly now, humor evident in his tone.

"Mmh!" Jungkook chokes back another moan when your hand unzips his dress pants and dips past the material. Why was he so sensitive all of a sudden? "'m alright! I'm- this steak, mmh, it's so good..."

"Is it really that good? Maybe I should've ordered that one..." Taehyung pouts slightly before poking at his salad. Whenever they went out to eat, Taehyung would order the coolest sounding thing on the menu, end up disappointed, then it would result in him eating the other member's food. Of course, they all happily offered to feed their precious Taehyungie - things like this always worked out in the end.

You continue your assault under the table, getting accustomed to Jungkook's length after weeks apart. There's a familiar curl of warmth under your skin when your thumb brushes over the thick head of his cock, his boxers wet with precum. How was he leaking already? The Jungkook you knew prided himself for being able to last almost five hours in bed, yet here he was, keening, thick and hard, dripping with precum after a little bit of fondling through his pants. There's a distinct feeling of power that flows through your blood at that thought.

"Hm, Jungkookie? Is it really that good?" You say quietly enough that only the man next to you can hear. Your tone was awfully smug and Jungkook didn't like that at all, not one bit.

"I'm going to fucking wreck you later, do you understand? Doing- shit- doing something like this in public? Ah, I didn't peg you as an exhibitionist." Jungkook's legs open a little wider and you really can't tell if it's subconscious or if he's doing it on purpose. Either way, it was clear he was enjoying it just as much as you were.

"I didn't peg you as an exhibitionist. You're so hard..." You say in awe. At some point during this whole encounter, you'd managed to forget just exactly why you were doing this. To be completely honest, you didn't really care.

"Wait, hah, y/n-ah..." Jungkook sputters out as quietly as he can. He had one hand on the edge of the lavish wooden table, gripping it with so much force his knuckles were turning white. You ignore his quiet pleas and instead slide your fingers over the sensitive vein that bulged on the side of his cock. You recognized it almost immediately even if you couldn't see it. Why wouldn't you recognize it - especially when you'd dragged your tongue over it so many times before. It never failed to make him go crazy.

"Y/n-ah, seriously... it's too- you're gonna-" Jungkook's legs open a bit more, his body aching for more stimulation as he bucked his hips up slightly. His cock twitches strenuously and before you can even think to pull your hand away, he's coming hard into his boxers.

Almost perfectly timed, his hand slips on the table and he knocks his wine glass over, spilling expensive alcohol all over the fancy wood and all over Taehyung's salad. The clanging of the glass on the table along with the way everyone gasps in shock overshadows the throaty moan that Jungkook lets out. He couldn't restrain it even if he tried.

"Ah, my salad!" Taehyung curses despite the fact he hasn't touched the salad more than once since it was served. Hoseok laughs at Jungkook's clumsiness and Taehyung's waterboarded salad.

"You weren't eating it anyway." Namjoon rolls his eyes and raises his hand to get the attention of a waiter. "Can we get some napkins? Or paper towels, please?"

As Namjoon and Jimin make an attempt to wipe up some of the spilled wine, you remove your hand from your boyfriend's pants. His cum had soaked through his boxers and there was a majority of it on your fingers. You didn't mind one bit.

Jungkook's eyes are far away for a moment as he comes down from the high of his first orgasm in weeks. As soon as his vision clears, you make sure the first thing he sees is you cleaning his cum off your fingers with your tongue. His eyes darken impossibly.

"I leave for a few weeks and this is what you do? You can't even wait till we're alone? The audacity of this girl." Jungkook mumbles, dialect peaking through. He quickly zips up his dress pants and he shivers at the uncomfortable feeling of cum in his boxers. He needed to get home and change asap.

"And you're laughing about it, too?" You giggle and nod. He sucks his teeth.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd wreck you, princess." An almost sinister smirk pulls at Jungkook's lips and your smile all but falls. "Clearly, I need to give you some obedience training."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

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adg1115 · 4 years ago

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The Club Princess

Chapter 1

“Y/n” I heard my name called followed by a loud bang on my dorm door.

“Get fucked!” I screamed back. I had only been asleep for a few hours. Last night was a simpler night. It still involved serving beer and whiskey to the club and tagalongs until about three in the morning followed by cleaning as much as I could before I dragged my ass to my room for a shower and sleep.

I heard a low growl of my name followed by more banging. This idiot did not understand how much sleep I needed to even function the next day. I threw the covers off and stomped to the door throwing it open.

“WHAT?!” I screamed into the face of the jackass who decided it was a good idea to disturb me, Jax. He wasn’t phased by my outburst in the least. Probably because this happened often or more than likely, because nothing phased him.

“Hey princess,” he said, showing me his famous smirk. You know the smirk. The one that causes time to stop and panties to melt. The smirk that made me clench my legs together just slightly to try to stop the ache.

“I could really use your help today,” he began casually leaning against the door jam. “Gemma has an appointment across town and I have church in about thirty. Can you watch Abel for me? I’ll owe you.”

I’ll owe you. I could think of several ways he could pay me back. With him between my legs, slam-

“Y/n can you help me?” Jax asked, pulling me from my fantasy.

“Uh yeah. That’s fine. Let me throw some clothes on,” I said trying to break through my Jax fog causing the man that fantasies are made of to laugh at me.

“I think you look fine,” Jax said, eyeing my legs. I lowered my head slightly embarrassed to be standing in front of Jax and his big dick energy in just my underwear and a long t-shirt. “I’ll bring him to your room before church. I would rather you stay in here until after.”

“Yeah that’s good,” I reply as Jax headed down the hall to the main living area. That man makes me want things - bad things. But I'm smart enough to know that would never happen. Jax just recently got out of a bad relationship that ended with him becoming a father. He was known for sleeping with beautiful, sexy women that hung around the clubhouse and the porn studio. And I was the exact opposite. Not really girly, more of a tomboy. I blame being raised by the club on that one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with the way I look but realistic enough to know that I'm not Jax's type.

I decided to dress casual in a SAMCRO tank and yoga pants. I would probably be exiled to my room the rest of the day with the newest edition to this outlaw family, Abel. Church sometimes ran for an hour depending on the topics brought to the table. Then inevitably Jax would be pulled into a million different directions. As VP of the club a lot fell on his shoulders. But it honestly wasn't that bad to be on babysitting duty. I got to spend the day hanging out with the coolest infant on the planet while I eat junk food and watch trashy reality tv. I could probably even sweet talk my way out of bar duty tonight.

A few minutes later Jax showed up with little man in tow. “Thanks for this y/n. He’s been fussy today.” He handed me all of my baby survival supplies like diapers, formula, and toys to help keep the seven month old entertained. “I think it’s all in there. Half-Sack is watching the front. Let him know if you need anything else, ok?”

“Jax, I do need something,” I said a little quieter than I expected.

“Oh yeah,” Jax replied with a small smile trying to force its way out. “And, um, what would that be?”

“Food.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room with Abel. We watched cartoons, ate food one of the prospect dropped off to us earlier, and played with a few toys we kept in my room for those babysitting days.

A loud knock sounded on the door startling both Abel and me. “I bet that’s Daddy little man. Let’s go see,” I said picking up the tiny human who happened to be the spitting image of his father.

“Hey buddy,” Jax said, all his attention on his son. “Sorry it took so long. I had a few things to take care of.” I glanced at the clock beside my bed. I didn’t notice that it had been a little over three hours since Jax dropped off Abel.

“Oh that’s ok Jax. He was no problem at all,” I said as I handed Abel off to his father. “But I do have one more favor to ask. Can I pass on bar duty tonight? It’s not a busy night and I could really catch up on some sleep.” I wasn’t above begging if that’s what it took. I was tired. Ever since I turned 18 I would help run the bar four to five times a week, sometimes more depending on what the club was up to. I saw it as a way to repay the club for taking me in when I became an orphan at fourteen.

“Yeah I don’t see a problem with that. I have a prospect I need to break in anyways,” Jax said looking directly into my eyes trying to see if something else was going on. But it wasn’t. I was just a slut for sleep.

Abel started to get a little fussy. “He didn’t cry the whole time he was with me. Maybe he doesn’t like you.”

Jax threw his head back and gave a full on laugh. Damn that was an amazing sight. “Nah. Teller men just can’t help but love you.”

#jax teller x you #Jax teller #Jax teller fanfic #Jax teller x y/n #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy #jax teller imagine

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praphit · 3 years ago

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Strange 2: “Are you happy?”

(No Spoilers)

"Are you happy?"

There are plenty of things that could make one happy. Money can make one happy. There are people who say the contrary, but they're full of it.

Now, it might not KEEP one happy, but that’s a different convo.

You’re certainly prettier when you’ve got money. We'd all look as beautiful as the Kardashians, if we had the money - which brings up looks. Looks could make one happy.

There's this guy at a Dunkin Donuts near me, who is one of the dreamiest people you'll ever see. This ain't money, buying the looks, this is God. Kings of Kings! Lord of Lords! Creator of Stud Muffins!

Health, kids, your sports team winning, the list goes on... toys! :) For some it's not the money, exactly, but the toys that money can buy.

Are you happy with YOUR reality? Dr. Strange was asked this question. He replied "Yes." He was lying.

My man is powerful!

No, y'all don't understand... like, there's NOTHING he can't do. You hear rappers talk about being "gods", that's nonsense. Strange is practically a god among humans. He's the coolest mofo wizard around! He's really the only cool wizard around isn't he?

Harry Potter? David Blaine? - You may be fans, but are they sitting at the cool kids table? - probably not. Criss Angel (once upon a time)?

- trying too hard.

Plus, he needs a fly ass cape like Strange to truly be cool.

Strange has got the resume as well.

And... he's a white man. How bout that??

But, none of that makes him happy. The only thing he wants in this reality is Rachel McAdams.

I'm sure there are a lot of creepy, obsessed men who would say the same thing, but this is STRANGE! Makes you feel kinda sorry for him, right?

Especially since she just got married. Bummer. He doesn't have much time to think about this deep "happy or not?" stuff, or plot the demise of their marriage, cuz it's around this time when THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS begins!

That's how it works though, right?? - Whether you're happy or not, shit keeps happening, so it's hard to slow down and think. And there's no time at all, cuz not only is there madness surrounding them, wherever they go, but there is an evil force chasing them through every reality. This evil force is pissed, insanely powerful, and has no patience for Dr. Strange's smart ass comments.

Strange's reality is falling a part, the super villain is on the scene, and maybe... JUST MAYBE, if he saves the day in front of Rachel McAdams, she'll look at her freshly acquired husband, and say "Bleep you, I'm in love with the wizard!"

Strange looked at the madness, and was like "Shit. I might die. I don't want to die alone though." So, he tries to form a team:

Wanda, who's an emotional wreck, and if I may say (sorry, not sorry), has been kind of a bitch, lately.

Wong, who loves being dragged into danger by the white man.

And some random teenager, named America Chavez.

She has the power to travel between realities. She can also use these powers to kick some ass, MMA style.

We see all kinds of new worlds:

There's a cartoon world ( I really hope they do some tie-ins with the Spiderverse).

There's a world where everybody is paint. Hard to imagine, right? We're all trapped in a Monet painting.

There's a world where you can revisit any memory you'd like (certainly helpful for people like us, who rarely stop to remember and reflect).

In most of these worlds, you'll meet another you... that's pretty cool... unless your other you is a prick.

There's a world where Prof. X is still alive,

and didn't die in that horrible X3 movie, and is now the head of a cult (Illuminati)... well, a different cult.

He's so old now. He looks confused, and scared, but he's still joining the battle. Have y'all ever had old family members, still trying to mow their lawn, IN THE HEAT. And you say to them "What are you doing?! You're old! STOP!" But, I guess this could be an advantage in battle; even another super ability - Pity. Who's going to attack an elderly man in a wheelchair? You'd have to be a real piece of shit. Unfortunately, for the professor, the evil in this flick is just that.

And this is the movie, people. I can't say much without spoiling anything. I'll have to do a spoiler post soon, cuz honestly, I've got a lot of smack to talk :) not against the movie, but against a character.

Strange is being chased through worlds / looking through worlds for something to help fight the evil that's chasing them, and to help put things right again. This movie is a wild orgy of CG. And there's no room in this orgy for story and development. Well, there are those two things, but they've already happened in other movies and shows. This is going to be a problem for some.

There are no recaps concerning Dr Strange and his powers, his motives, or his love interest (who married another man... Ass). Honestly, it's been so long, I thought that Rachel McAdams' character was dead. I had remembered Strange 1 incorrectly. There's an episode of "What If" (which y'all should watch, if you haven't) where Rachel McAdams dies a lot, I guess I thought one of those times actually kept her dead. She shows up on screen, and I said "But, you dead! *gasp* ZOMBIE! Zombie McAdams!" But, no :)

Wanda's story is so complex. You'll have no chance of figuring out what's going on with her, unless you've been keeping up. There are some big reveals (unless people's illegal vids online haven't spoiled them for you... Asses) that won't be so big unless you're involved with other material. To someone coming in cold - it's just going to be wizards (who look the same) flying around, shooting special effects all over the place, to the music of Danny Elfman.

No, it's not a grounded movie, but Dr. Strange, himself, isn't even grounded. Can you blame him? He had to deal with Thanos; they're still feeling the impact of that. He had all of that Spider-Man bullshit. He just found out that the love of his life is marrying some other man (which AGAIN... Ass!). Seriously, he's Doctor mofo Strange! Who's that other dude she married? How's she not going to wait for him?! - he's been busy! SAVING YOUR LIFE, btw (and everyone else's!)... If I had something brewing with some awesome, heroic, super-powered being I'm waiting! I'd be like "Look, ladies, we can have our fun, but... there's only one for me." You couldn't do that, Rachel??! You couldn't do that for The Doctor?!

... Ass!!!

Where was I?? ...

Right, so he hasn't had much time to be grounded. You're going to have to accept that, going into this movie. It's not going to be as much drama as in recent comic book movies; like I said, it's an orgy. We ain't got time for deep convo. We all know why we're here - for some magic madness and some time flying through new worlds; and that's what you'll get.

It has some horror elements, some scary moments (small children, beware.), some blood, and tons of maddening magic, so... any conservative Christians out there who aren't too cool with all that wizardry shit, this ain't for you. You'll have to wait for the Christian version of Dr. Strange. I'm not sure what that would look like... but there's gotta be a reality where Strange is a born-again believer, and doesn't use magic... he's merely armed with a bible and a spray bottle of holy water. Spray the evil away:)

This ain't A grade material (maybe it would have been if this were a cartoon or a comic), but... and I hate to say this, but it's true in this case - it is what it is - take it or leave it.

Grade: B

So, are you happy?

Happiness is simply an emotion, right? And if there's anything that I've learned from watching movies is that our emotions can be manipulated.

I like to keep my pleasures simple. For example, ice cream makes me happy. Therefore, I've decided that I will eat ice cream, nonstop for the rest of my life. Happiness achieved. I hope it's that easy for y'all.

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noodelak · 4 years ago

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MY REALLY OLD ART A LONG ASS POST

So this first piece I found in a folder on my computer called “Old art organize later” within a folder called “ REALLY OLD ART” I drew this in 2006 and the jpeg was titled:

“My most awesome dragon evur”

Also noted was my attempt at signing my name in Japanesef saldkfjsdlf because i was 11 and anime was THEE coolest thing to me.

Okay the rest is going under a read more because this is gonna be LONG

here are some gems from 2007

yes this is a kk slider gijinka faksdjfalsdjf

next up we have my attempt to make super paper mario characters into handsome anime men

it was a this point i was a young baby on deviant art longing to do “digital” art because thats what all the really cool artists did, i didnt have a tablet and the photoshop-esque thing i had was a pirated copy of JASC Paintshop 7 (or maybe it was 8), so what did I make with newly unlocked DIGITAL ART POWERS??

and this charming thing which was my intepretation of what the The Thing Behind the Wall in Johnny the Homicidal Maniac looked like:

but these were only the beginning of my long and arduous journey as an artist, 2009 came and I entered highschool 13 years old and with nothing but the power of deviant art and being an outcast with 2 friends on my side so here are some of my favorites from that era of Noo art:

^^^ this is in fact EXACTLY what i looked like at 13

its kind of funny bc looking back you can absolutely tell id been drawing dragons/wolves since i was like able to hold a pencil but didnt start drawing humanoid characters until i was 12 afjlakfjs

ANYWAYS CARRYING ON BC THERES PLENTY MORE!! For example my Invader Zim/Naruto OCs

yes one of those aliens was kisame

every day knowing that I get to claim ownership over this is truly exhilarating the girl with the pigtails was my OC that was definitely not just me. Her name was Delainbow, she was Sasuke’s daughter and she is truly the epitome of everything that was good about my childhood

WHAT A LEGEND

this is genuinely what I wanted to be when i was 13 god I love it

oh fuck i missed this one from 2008

god GOd i love these all so much I WAS SO FREE I JUST DREW WHATEVER AND DIDNT CARE

ok just gonna put a few more without comment but these are all 2009 again

Moving on to 2010-2012 era art

shout out to teenage me for still being not the worst at drawing animals

the freaking EDGE

so there was some point here where i started trying to stop drawing “anime” bc i was tired of ppl making fun of me so I figured if I didnt draw anime ppl would take me more seriously when in reality those ppl just sucked and so did my highschool art teacher

like... YUCK???? what the fuck was i was I even accomplishing here aksdjfaskjfkasldjf

my wolves still were still way cooler then the rest of my art lol

alright carrying onto late highschool early college, its summer of 2012 im on tumblr, im a homestuck, and ive gotten a laptop and tablet as a gift for getting into art school (yeah I drew like aformentioned above and still got into art school) sadly i dont have any scans of the stuff i drew for that portfolio, it was mostly still lifes i drew like a boot and a skull haha

okay so here are the gems i made upon finally getting a computer of my own, photoshop and bamboo wacom tablet,

here she is my first attempt to paint in photoshop....s fjaskdjfaskljfklasd

the rest of these are all from like my first fall/winter semester of college when i actually started getting a real art education and not just shitty no budget rural hometown highschool art class

So that picture of zachary which is honestly NOT thaaaaaat bad was one of the first things I ever posted to break 500 notes, i think a fewwww of my homestuck drawings had come close after like months of being on the site but like that zachary was one of the first times id genuinely been a little succesful with sharing my art online and im still very grateful to everyone who liked and reblogged it ^u^

After that well, i do have a lot more bad art but its not quite as funny as my pre-college stuff from that point on you mostly just see me struggling to improve anatomy and struggling to get through school (which ultimately took me 8 years to get through bc art school is terrible on your mental health and i had to do the last 4 years as a half time student)

but thats kind of a sad note to end on so heres just a few more gems i think you all should see if you’ve taken the time to read this haha

Thank you if you took the time to scroll through all of this i hope you had a laugh and that if you’re ever feeling down about your art to remember that we all start at the bottom and you can only go up from there no matter how long it takes you! Don’t give up and honestly just draw your truth <3

#long post #talk tag #art retrospective #this was really fun to make hahah

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nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

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A rogue storm had her presumed dead and stranded on the red planet. Left on her own, astronaut Aelin Galathynius has four years to make it to the next drop-site, some two thousand miles. Armed with her smarts and dwindling supplies, Aelin attempts to survive on an inhospitable planet, when the nearest help is only millions of miles away.

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin carefully filled a container of water and walked it to her garden, pouring it over the crops and repeating the process until each little plant had been watered.

A camera had been set up in her garden so she spoke to it, still speaking as though TNSB couldn’t hear her or see her every move. “Now that everyone can talk to me, they never want to shut up.” She kissed the leaf of the smallest plant, smiling down at it and whispering a soft word of encouragement.

“They’ve even got a whole team micromanaging my crops. Which is just great,” she added sarcastically. Aelin and the botany team were not on the best of terms. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant,” she spread her arms, as if to say look at all of this, “but I am the best botanist on this planet.”

Aelin put the container down and dusted her hands, “In other news, they want me to pose for a picture. I’m debating between ‘High School Prom’,”’ she posed with her hands elbows bent and hands clasped over her stomach, “or ‘Happy College Student On A Pamphlet’,” she hooked her thumbs through imaginary backpack straps, pasting on a gloriously fake grin. “I’m not sure how it’ll all convey with my spacesuit on, but we’ll figure it out.”

Aelin laughed to herself and walked out to the kitchen area, now addressing the camera by the microwave, “Another cool thing about this communication business: email! I get a big data dump, like when I was on The Lani and stuff. Athletes, academics, musicians and even the prime minister too. But the coolest, the single coolest email I got was from my alma mater, the University of Orynth. They tell me that once you’ve grown crops somewhere, you’ve officially ‘colonized’ it.” A cocky grin overtook her features, “So I colonized Farnor. Suck it, TNSB botany team,” she stuck her tongue out before fetching her suit to take her photo.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Asterin was in stitches as she looked at the picture Aelin had sent. The golden-haired astronaut was mid-jump, her legs bent and her arms stretched up to the sky and she could make out the huge grin splitting the woman’s face. “Oh, this is so like her,” she murmured, tracing an iron nail over the photo. “This – I can use.”

“Good,” Weylan said, already on to the next topic. He addressed Sartaq and Gavriel on the screen, “Sartaq, is your team still on schedule.”

The man looked beat, a certain bleakness in his eyes, “It’ll be tight, but we’ll make it.”

“Make sure you do.” He tapped the table, “Nine-month flight puts us at day 868. Did we get the Botany Team’s assessment?”

Gavriel nodded, “They estimate her crops will last her until day 900. They resentfully admit Aelin’s doing a remarkable job.”

“Resentfully?” Manon questioned, arching a manicured brow.

“Yes, um, Aelin has a tendency to tell them to go have sex with themselves whenever they disagree with her or question her method. Either that or she tells them she’s the best botanist on Farnor and therefore she doesn’t have to listen to mediocre scientists,” Gavriel told them, a slight wince on his face.

The director of TNSB just shook his head, “Get her in line. We can’t have any miscommunications.” He turned to Manon and Asterin, who were both badly hiding their amused grins. “Food gets there at 868, hers lasts until 900…I hate this margin.”

“And that’s assuming nothing goes wrong,” commented Manon, ever-so helpfully.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin grabbed her toolkit and wedged it under her arm as she walked to the airlock, going out to do some late-night modifications on the rover.

Something was niggling in the back of her mind, but she paid it no heed, just wanting to do her work and sleep like the dead after whatever meager dinner she could scrounge up. She was running out of ketchup and she dreaded the day that she was forced to eat plain cooked potatoes.

A yawn grew in her and her eyes watered, gods above, she just wanted to sleep.

When one was stranded on a desolate, slumber was a fickle thing. Aelin’s eyes grew heavy as she pulled the airlock handle down.

All she heard was a ripping sound going along the canvas of the airlock before she was airborne, an explosion catapulting her and the tunnel far far away.

A strangled, panicked cry escaped her as she was battered and flung around the airlock as it flew through the air and crashed, her helmet crashing into something and she heard a cracking sound, closing her eyes on instinct.

The canvas tube rolled too many times for her to count until eventually it stopped and Aelin sat up, alarms blaring in her helmet.

It was cracked.

Fuck, it was cracked, a little hole where the polycarbonate-plexiglass had been chipped free. The beeping didn’t stop and Aelin fought to keep her breathing under control as she scrambled to her feet and wrenched the duct tape free, ripping off a length and taping it across the longest crack and then another across it.

Her toolkit had spilled everywhere and she grabbed a sharp screwdriver, stabbed it into the fabric of the airlock and yanked it down, creating a big enough rip for her to stumble out of.

Aelin could hardly see past the duct tape and she spun around, desperately looking for the hab and then sprinting, tripping countless times in her mad dash.

She stepped foot in and saw… her crops, destroyed beyond recognition.

Her lifeline was destroyed and Aelin gasped, her throat tight as she staggered out. She couldn’t stay here tonight and no good would come if she attempted to fix anything now.

Making her way to the rover, tears dripped down her cheeks until violent sobs were ripping from her throat and chest. She stumbled over a pile of rocks and fell to her knees, her gloves digging into the red dirt. There was no other answer; Aelin was going to die here alone.

A scream tore from her and soon enough, she was cursing the gods, “Where are you?! Why do you fail me time and time again?!” Her throat was raw and on fire. Her voice cracked, “Somebody save me.”

But no one answered her calls, not as she stayed there, kneeling in the sand, the reality of everything crashing down on her. There was no hope left, no bright and beautiful feeling.

The gods had never been there for her. Never.

Not when her parents died in that car wreck, not when she had to protect little Elide when she herself needed protecting, not when they made her fall for a heartless and cruel bastard, who carried a chip on his shoulder, going through life thinking no one had it as hard as he did.

It was stupid and childish to think they would save her now.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The mood in Mission Control was somber, nobody daring to speak as Nox read off the message Aelin had sent. “…crops are dead. Complete loss of pressure sterilized the soil and boiled off whatever was left in the water reclaimer…”

The only upside was that Aelin had managed to store away buckets of water and didn’t have to worry about that. “How long does she have,” Asterin asked.

“Well, she can still eat the potatoes she has. We estimate about two-hundred days.”

“Rations get her to what? Day four-ten?”

“Yes, so with potatoes, she can stretch to six-ten.”

“Prelim calculations call for a four-hundred-day round trip.”

“By day 868 she’ll be long dead,” said Manon, her face emotionless. Her eyes narrowed and she sucked on her teeth, “It’s day one-thirty-five right now, we need thirteen to mount the boosters and do inspections… which give RPL forty-seven days to make the probe. Darkness above, gods damn it.”

“How long does it usually take?”

Gavriel answered Nox, his voice defeated, “Six months.”

Weylan spoke to Gavriel, already standing and doing his suit jacket up, “I’ll let you tell Sartaq and his team.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Fenrys was sitting in front of The Lani’s communications computer, typing an email to Aelin. TNSB had finally given them the ok to speak with her and only Fenrys had been up to the task.

Dearest G-Money, he wrote, laughing quietly to himself, Apparently, TNSB deemed it appropriate for us to talk to you and I drew the short straw. Sorry we left you on Farnor, we don’t like you very much and we were all tired of you hogging shower times. The downside is we have to rotate through your tasks, but it’s only dirt (not real science). How’s Farnor?

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin was crying as she read Fenrys’ email. Oh, how she missed them, so terribly. The day had been a long one, one where it seemed she couldn’t stop the tears even as she fixed the mess that had been made.

She didn’t think she’d ever been as heartbroken as when she was clearing out her ruined garden and dumping the dead plants outside. After she spent a few minutes mourning all her work, thinking to herself that the botany team would be thrilled she had finally failed, she got busy – covering the hole made in the hab by taping over a plastic tarp she would no longer need now that the greenhouse was useless.

The wind was making it flutter and flap, but it would hold as she replied to her friend.

My most beloved Fenny,

Farnor is fine. How’s The Lani? Cramped, with those two broody men? I accidentally blew up the hab, but fortunately, all your movies were spared which means tonight I’m going to eat plain potatoes and watch Mulan.

Everyday I go outside and look at the vast horizon, just because I can and guess what, I officially colonized Farnor.

I hope the girls are going easy on you poor boys, I know they can be rather ruthless when it comes to board and card games.

Say hello to the others and tell Lorcan that I’m gonna beat his ass if he’s still blaming himself.

After a few minutes, she read his typed reply, just two words, Will do.

Aelin did indeed watch Mulan as she ate her dinner and then, she got up, licking her plate clean and walking it to the sink before she sat down in front of her laptop once more, opening the video journal.

She wished so badly that she could be doing anything other than this, but enough was enough. She wasn’t a child and could no longer put this off. She owed it to herself and to her crew.

“Manon, it’s currently day one-thirty-six, around nine PM. I have a favour to ask of you, and I’m sending these to you, only you, because you’re the only one who will understand. Thank you for everything you did and thank you-“ her voice broke, “thank you for being my friend.”

Aelin took a second, her eyes shut as tears slipped past her lashes, “I want you to send these to the crew in case I don’t make it, ok?”

It took a lot to decide to send these, but Aelin pushed through, addressing the first one to Nesryn.

“Faliq… thank you for being you. Every day spent with you is one I cherish, because I love you so much. Thank you for getting me hooked on The Anatolia Story; it’s addictive. I’ve read fourteen out of twenty-eight volumes and I can’t wait to finish it, but I’m trying to ration them. I won’t forgive you for liking Twilight. Take good care of my goddaughter and your wife. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you guys. Every day I miss you.”

The rest of the letters went the same way, with her saying her last goodbye to her family. Every word had her throat growing tighter and tighter, until only Elide and Rowan were left. She didn’t know what to say to him, how to tell him she loved him so when she would be dead too soon.

Hot tears were streaming down her face and she looked crazy as she spoke to Elide.

“Ellie-Boo. I-“ she sobbed once and covered her mouth, “I love you so so much. To infinity and beyond,” referencing the movie that had their obsession with outer-space beginning, Toy Story. “There’s too much to say to you. You’re my person, baby girl. Without you, I would’ve probably wound up in a ditch somewhere. I want you to have the biggest wedding and a dress with enough sequins so that I can see it in the Afterworld. You are not allowed to be sad, no tears, Elide. I mean it. My funeral better be so much better than the one TNSB had – boooring!” Aelin smiled cheekily and then grew serious, the redness from her crying making the turquoise of her eyes pop. “Be happy, my darling sister. Because guess what, you and me? More than anything, we deserve to know happiness and you’re going to have to take my happy too. I love you, to infinity and beyond.” She pressed a kiss to her fingertips and touched the screen.

The letter she dreaded having to dictate was staring her in the face and Aelin stood up, walking around in circles as she attempted to order her thoughts. Eventually, she sat down, “…Rowan. I… there’s a lot to say, but I won’t ever be able to stop crying if I say everything. Basically, I love you. I don’t know how or when or even why, but I do. I’m completely in love with you, buzzard. And I wish I hadn’t been such a coward to keep it all to myself all this time. I wish that we could’ve been together and in the next life, I will find you and I will not be scared of it, ok? I will find you again and I will not be afraid.”

She couldn’t say another thing and ended the video, sitting and staring at the wall until she finally fell asleep.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: that wasn’t a very nice chapter huh....anyhoo! comment/send me an ask to be added or removed from the tag list! thank you for reading darlings

@mythicaitt @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @that-other-pineapple @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @faerie-queen-fireheart @chemicha @rowaelin-cressworth @mynewdreamwasyou @candid-confetti @bat-wing-rhys @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @feyrethedarklady @booklover41802 @rowaelinforeverworld @jamesxdaisy @julemmaes @hellas-himself

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fanfictionaries · 5 years ago

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Love’s in the Little Things - SherryBaby14′s Prompt Challenge

Prompt: Steve and a musician. Like she plays the piano and writes her own music; does small gigs here and there. They meet while he’s at one of her gigs, would bond over music. Sex on he Piano. Something intimate, soothing and musical.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

Summary: A little story following the progression of Steve and a musician falling in love. With a little added extra at the end!

Warnings: Smut, Love-making, FLUFF! A tiny dash of Angst, Mentions of death

Words: 6.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you @sherrybaby14 for this lovely prompt. I got the opportunity to join my two passions together - writing and music. Stick around till the end of the fic for a little bonus tidbit (written and performed by yours truly)!

Also - I switched the timeline around involving some character deaths to suit my own person story needs.

***

“You realize this is the fifth time he’s been in here this month. If you don’t make a move now, he may never come back,” said Roxy, pouring you your pre-performance liquid courage.

“Oh please, Rox. He’s just here with his friends. I highly doubt he’s here to see me,” you scoffed, knocking back the shot. The alcohol burned as it trickled down your throat, the effects immediately going to your head, giving you a light, fuzzy feeling. In reality, the shot wouldn’t hit your blood stream for at least a few minutes, but the placebo effect also did wonders for your confidence.

It didn’t matter how many times you did this – got up on stage in front of people and performed for them – it was still nerve wracking. Older musicians always advised you that it would get easier with time. One day you’d feel more comfortable on stage than you did off. Well, five years and you were still waiting for that day. Therefore, the last thing you needed was the ridiculous notion that Captain America was coming to a little dive bar to hear you perform. It was too much pressure.

“I’d consider that true if it weren’t for the fact that he only ever comes in here when you’re here.” Roxy, one of your closest friends and the bartender at your regular paying gig location, eyed you and then the group of gargantuan superheroes in the far corner. There were three of them tonight. Sometimes there’d be more, a few more guys and the occasional girl, but no matter what, it was always those three. You were pretty sure you knew who they were – it was hard not to. There was Sam (The Falcon); he was usually the chattiest out of the three, flirting with women and loudly cracking jokes. Then there was the moody one, Bucky you thought his name was; he was quiet but seemed good-humored and kind behind the eyes. Lastly, there was Steve. He was somewhere in the middle. Livelier than Bucky, but not nearly as attention seeking as Sam. And, for lack of trying you couldn’t help but notice the way he watched you with rapt attention every time you performed. You figured it was just him being a polite audience member. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. What could Captain America possibly want with a dive bar musician?

“Coincidence at best. Besides, how could he possibly know what nights I’m performing? They line-up isn’t posted,” you reasoned, checking your makeup in the mirror behind the bar.

“True, but who’s to say he didn’t come up to the bar one night and ask for the monthly line-up? And who’s to say I didn’t give him a copy with all your performance nights highlighted?” Roxy proposed, looking away from you to polish a glass and place it on the shelf behind her.

“What? You didn’t!” you exclaimed, chancing a glance at the super soldier to see his eyes trained on you, before looking away bashfully to his friends, who immediately began to give him a hard time. Or at least you assumed that’s what they were doing based on the teasing punches and boyish looks they gave you and then him. Your gut flipped. Maybe Roxy was lying to get on your nerves. That had to be the only plausible option.

“Alright—” began the DJ, Matthew, stopping the music and bringing everyone’s attention to the stage “—tonight we have a regular to the stage. If you’re an alcoholic then you’ve seen her here plenty of times, and if this is your first time joining us, welcome but what took you so long?” A smattering of laughter flitted across the bar. Looking back over, you found Steve smiling politely at the joke. God he was handsome…

“Give it up for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”

Applause filled the air as you walked to the stage, exchanging niceties with Matthew before sitting down to the piano. You breathed deeply, trying to quell your nerves, but that night they seemed to be on overdrive. Heart rate elevated, the alcohol in your stomach burned. Closing your eyes, you placed your fingers to the keys and let the familiarity of them calm you. You could do this. Going into a simple chord progression, you began the intro to your first song. It was a simple little number, nothing too controversial, too fast, or too slow. Just enough of a pep to grab the people’s attention, without being assaulting to the ears. It was fun and you always found it livened the room up nicely. By the time it was over, your nerves had cooled a bit, but your hands still possessed a subtle tremor. So, diverting from the normal path, you did a cover for your second song. A tried and true rendition of Falling in Love with Love by Fred Astaire. The chords and words were familiar like a childhood blanket, the song bringing you back to watching your mom and dance in the kitchen as a child. It was when you moved into your original work again, a sweet little thing about sunny mornings and fresh spring mountains, that your eyes caught Steve’s as you looked out into the crowd. The dim fluorescents of the bar lights illuminated him like a spotlight, swirls of dust floating around his figure in the musty bar air. Illuminated in hazy golden light, he looked as though the heavens had opened up to present him just for you. Flaxen haired and clear, blue eyes, he looked reminiscent of another time. And you guessed, he technically was. But he looked at you like a man seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time – his gaze so intense, so openly earnest and honest, you couldn’t help but stare back.

You didn’t look away the whole time.

After your set, you found yourself sticking around – something you almost never did. But you knew you couldn’t just flee from the establishment like normal. Not when you performed for one person and one person only that night. After about twenty minutes you began to wonder if you had been wrong. Maybe the connection had been in your head. No, it definitely wasn’t in your head. Maybe you should just go up to him? After all, this was the 21st century. Women approached men all the time. But then again, he was from a different time. What if he found it insulting? Or too forward? You were still debating the pros and cons of the situation when a tap on your shoulder brought you out of your musings.

Looking up and expecting to see Roxy or maybe even Steve, you were surprised to see his friend.

“Hey, I’m Bucky. I just have to say, great performance tonight,” he said casually, extending a hand.

You took it tentatively, shaking his hand. Confused as to why he was talking to you but not wanting to be rude you gave him a small smile, “Thanks. I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you Bucky.”

“Listen, I’m gonna cut straight to the point. I need a favor from you (Y/N).” Bucky proposed, running a hand through his slicked brown hair.

Intrigued, you leaned against the bar top behind you, “Okay, I’ll bite. What can I do for you?”

“You see my friend over there?” He pointed across the bar to Steve, who was currently looking anywhere but at the two of you. “Well, I’ve got a bit of a problem, because he keeps dragging us to this bar every weekend and as much as I like it here, I just want a quiet Saturday night in, ya know? Now, he’d never admit that he told me this, but he thinks you’re pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread – which is a high compliment as he was actually there for the invention of sliced bread.”

“Is that so?” you asked, trying to suppress the wave of giddiness his words created.

“Yea, he looks great for his age, right?”

“So, what’s the favor then?”

“Well—” he began, drawing his face into an exaggerated eyeroll “—for some reason, while the man is completely unfazed by jumping out of exploding buildings, he can’t build up the courage to come and talk to you. So, your favor to me, would be to just look over there and wave him over so that I can go home and watch The Great British Bake Off.”

“The Great British Bake Off? Really?”

Bucky shrugged, “It’s heartwarming and educational.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to him. But what about your other friend? Mister Tall, Dark, and Goofy?” you asked, looking to Sam who was currently attempting to tell your golden-haired man some kind of story that required an enormous amount of arm movement. The comment earned you a guffaw from Bucky.

“Him? He’ll be fine. He’s already got the bartender’s number. I think they’re leaving together after her shift is over.”

Jaw dropping in shock, you looked to Roxy and pointed to Sam in question. She shrugged, an excited smile on her face as she turned back to her customers.

“Alright,” you agreed, shaking your head. “Go enjoy Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood. I’ll take good care of your friend.”

***

“What?! That can’t possibly be true. I feel like you’re lying to me right now.”

“No, it’s the honest to God truth. Bing Crosby came right up to me and shook my hand,” said Steve, large hands wrapped around his beer bottle as he told you probably the coolest story you’d ever heard.

Sitting back in your chair heavily, you let out a huff of air, “Wow…I mean…wow. I guess being a war hero really does come with some perks.”

“I don’t know if I would call myself a war hero…”

“Oh, so he’s modest too. Tell me, is there anything you’re bad at?” you asked, teasingly.

“There’s plenty of things I’m bad at,” scoffed Steve.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, name some. What is the great Captain America bad at?” You lifted an eyebrow in challenge, unable to keep the smile from your face as you looked at the man in front of you.

“Well, for one thing, I can’t flirt with a pretty dame without help from my friend—”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of it yourself right now,” you interrupted, giving him a wry grin from across the small bar table.

Cheeks tinging a light shade of pink, Steve took a moment to drink from the bottle in his hand before continuing, “I can’t dance. Seriously, all I do is sway. I have trouble tying a tie. It always comes out crooked, no matter how many times I do it. Oh! And I’m a horrible singer. Couldn’t carry a tune to save my life – unlike some people.”

It was your turn to feel the heat form on your face, “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

“Well, I’d show you, but I doubt anyone else here would appreciate it,” said Steve. At his comment the two of your looked around the bar to realize there wasn’t anyone else there to bother with his singing.

“What?” you asked incredulously. “What time is it?”

Checking his watch, Steve’s eyebrows lifted almost all the way to his hairline, “Three in the morning. Doesn’t this place close at two?”

“Yea, it does. I can’t believe Roxy didn’t kick us out.” Pulling out your phone you found a text from the woman in question.

Roxy:

You seemed a little too patriotic to interrupt. Have fun and lock the door on your way out. ;)

“I guess we should probably get out of here, huh?” you suggested, standing and grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. Steve stood too, taking his bottle and your glass to the bar and disposing of them appropriately. Walking across the stage, you went to turn out the lights on the far wall when you stopped. Looking at the piano in front of you, you turned back to Steve.

“While we’re here, do you want a free concert?”

“Depends…what are you playing?” asked Steve, rounding the bar and coming to sit on the bench next to you.

“Anything you want. I’m open for requests,” you announced, brushing your fingers across the keys and playing out a small arpeggio.

“How about one of yours?” Steve suggested, surprising you.

“Really? Out of all the music in the world, you wanna’ listen to mine?”

“Of course, it’s my favorite. Haven’t missed a show all month.”

***

Too early. It was absolutely too early for your phone to be ringing. But there it was, laying on the mattress next to you annoyingly loud. You contemplated throwing it across the expanse of your small loft, but ultimately decided that you were in no way financially able to afford a new phone. So instead, you swiped your thumb across the screen and held it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Steve’s chipper voice rang through the line, bringing you out of your sleepy stupor.

“Steve, hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying not to sound like you just woke up. Unfortunately, you were unable to suppress the yawn that escaped the back of your throat.

“Oh jeez, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You could already hear the apology on the tip of his tongue.

“No, no. I’m always up at this time. It’s—” you looked over to the clock on the wall “—Five thirty. Five thirty?!”

“Sorry. I’ve been up for hours. I guess I didn’t realize it was still so early,” Steve apologized. You could hear the distant bustle of city life behind him; why was everyone in D.C. such early risers?

Sighing internally, you concluded it was probably better you get up now. You were due at your day job soon anyway. Sitting up and swinging your legs out of the warm cocoon of blankets, you stretched out, bringing life to your body, “It’s fine. Really. You get to hear me make coffee though. I desperately need coffee.”

The soft, nervous laugh on the other end of the phone made you smile as you padded barefoot to your small kitchen. “I will gladly listen to you make coffee, if it makes up for the fact that I woke you up,” said Steve, his words causing butterflies to form in the pit of your stomach. You had to stop for a moment, hand paused on your kettle as you tried to keep your head. When you failed to respond right away, Steve went on, “Anyway, I just called to tell you, that I had a really great time the other night.”

“Me too,” you replied, placing the kettle on the stove and turning it on, before grabbing the coffee from the cupboard.

“I was wondering if you wanted to do it again. Preferably sometime soon?”

“I don’t think the manager will let us stay so late after closing again. Even if I do technically work there,” you teased, grabbing the French press and filling it with a few spoonfuls of coffee.

“I don’t know, I bet you could convince them to let us stay. You seem like you’d be able to talk any man into doing just about anything,” Steve teased back.

“Really, is that so?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe not any man – maybe just me.”

***

It was a nice, sunny spring day. Summer was just around the corner and midafternoons were beginning to warm up considerably. You were on your lunch break, iced lemonade in hand as you walked through President’s Park with Steve. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear in response to the light breeze, you glanced down to make sure that the skirt of your sundress was still in place. The last thing you needed to do was accidentally flash him on your first official date.

“Obviously performing at the bar isn’t your only job if this is your lunch break. Tell me about your day job,” said Steve, walking idly next to you, hands in the pockets of his khakis.

“I’m actually a music teacher,” you answered, taking a sip of your lemonade.

“Really?” asked Steve, a hint of pleasant surprise in his voice.

“Yea, I guess you could say music pervades every part of my life,” you answer with a laugh.

“Do you like it?”

“I really do. Enough to do it for the rest of my life at least. I mean – performing is fun, but I don’t know if I could do it for a living. I’m much happier teaching kids how to read music or play an instrument.” The two of you came to a small park bench and sat down under the shade of a large tree.

“So, no dreams of being big and famous?”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “No. Absolutely not. I don’t think I could handle the pressure.”

“Yea, it definitely isn’t easy,” Steve sighed, looking down at the ground between his spread legs. At his comment, you realized how insensitive you must have sounded. For a second you had completely forgotten than he was Captain America – a famous household name. To you, he was just Steve Rogers, the man with a warm smile and a genuine aura that emanated throughout and around him.

“I think it was my music teacher in high school that really made me want to be a teacher,” you said, changing the subject. “She was always encouraging me to pursue my music and creativity. Which was great to hear when no one else in my life seemed to care much at the time. Who was your favorite teacher growing up?”

Steve seemed to perk up at your question, looking out into the expanse of the park as he pondered his answer, “Probably my art teacher. I always liked to doodle and draw, but he was the first person to tell me I had talent. After that, I actually took a few classes at the local college. Nothing too fancy, but I learned a lot about techniques and different mediums.”

“So, you’re an artist?”

“Well, I don’t know if I would call myself an artist…”

“There you go again being modest. Tell me, do you make art? Do you put pencil to paper or paint to canvas and makesomething with it?” you asked in a guiding manner.

“Yea, I guess—”

“Then you’re an artist! I bet you have a pencil and sketch pad on you right now. Am I wrong?”

Steve looked at you in bewilderment, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small notebook, “How did you know?”

“Because, you��re an artist! And, I may have seen the outline of it earlier when we were walking,” you admitted.

“Were you checking out my ass?”

The question caught you off guard, leaving you gawking at the surprisingly forward question. Steve laughed at you, indicating that he was obviously teasing, and you slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Maybe I was. It’s a nice ass,” you teased back. “Now show me some of your drawings. You’ve seen all of my creative genius; I want to see yours.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I draw something now and you can be the judge of whether it’s accurate or not?”

“Okay—” you looked around, trying to determine what would be the best thing for him to sketch “—that’s even better. How about that flower bed over there?”

“Nah, I think I see something much prettier,” responded Steve. Looking back at him, you found him already sketching away, pencil to the paper of his notebook as he glanced between it and you. He was drawing you. “No, no. Look back over that way,” he instructed. “The light was catching you perfectly.”

You did as he said, directing your gaze back towards the flower bed, the soft sound of pencil scratches mixing with the chirping of birds, and murmur of people walking by. Stealing glances at him out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he worked. Brow knitted in concentration, jaw relaxed, and soft pink lips parted, long, straight lashes brushing his cheekbones every time he blinked; it was in that moment you came to realization that you could watch him like this forever.

“Hey, no peaking,” he pouted, catching you staring when he looked back up at you for reference. You looked away, training your eye on a couple of squirrels chasing each other across the lawn. Perfectly content, you sat listening to him work until his voice broke the silence.

“Okay, all done.”

Turning back towards him, you scooted down the bench till you were hip to hip, peering into his lap to view his hard work. The sight took your breath away, a soft gasp moving past your lips as you stared at yourself in graceful strokes of graphite. He was right. The lighting had been perfect. Somehow, he managed to capture the rays of sun catching the side of your face, illuminating you like you glowed from the inside out. You held a small smile at the corner of your mouth and your eyes held a wistful romance to them as little tendrils of hair danced around your face. He even sketched some of your sundress – scribbling the lace and little pattern of peaches at the neckline. You were beautiful. He had made you beautiful.

Speechless, you stared at the sketch and then back up at Steve who looked down at you with an apprehensive expression. You beamed at him before gushing, “It’s amazing Steve. Thank you.”

Maybe it was a bit too soon. Maybe you should have waited till the third date, or even the second, but something just felt so right in that moment. Lifting up, you pressed your lips to his, the soft warmth of his mouth comfortable and exciting all at the same time. Brushing your lips against his softly, your heart fluttered when he did the same, kissing you back tentatively. When his large hand came to cup your face, you melted into him craving the feel of his firm hand against your soft skin. Surprisingly gentle for his size, but not for his demeanor, he kissed you like you were a flower and he a gentle breeze, caressing your petals with a tender confidence.

Pulling away, you found a softness in his eyes and in his smile that made your heart clench. It felt so strange to be already so enamored by a person you had just met. But you couldn’t help the lightness that coursed through your body when it came to him.

***

“You know, you really don’t have to keep coming to all of my gigs. You’ve already got the girl,” you half-joked to Steve as he swung your guitar over his shoulder and lifted your heavy amp with ease. Two months. That’s how long you’d been sharing early morning phone calls and lunch-time walks through the city. Peppering in the occasional dinner date, Saturday matinees at the theatre, and him attending every single one of your gigs, things were really beginning to click. However, you couldn’t help but shake the familiar monster of apprehension and doubt.

You knew perfectly well where your feelings stood with Steve, but did he feel the same way?

You’d been hurt in the past. Partners that left you guessing and clawing for any type of validation and affirmation that you were important to them. Countless hours spent worrying and wishing that they’d just show up like they said they would, and without complaint or snide remarks. Therefore, when Steve actually showed up, it felt obligatory – like he was doing everything right not because he wanted to, but because he felt like he had to.

“Do you not want me to come?” Steve asked as the two of you left the bar and headed down the street to your building.

“No—yes—I mean, of course I want you to be there. I just mean, it can’t be very fun for you to be in a smoky bar listening to me play the same ten songs over and over again. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there when you don’t want to be.” You couldn’t believe how stupid and insecure you sounded as you said the words, but at the same time you needed to say it. At the very least it would be an out for him to take, no matter how sad it made you seem.

“Hey.” Steve stopped you, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you towards him. “I’d listen to you play a rendition of Pop Goes the Weasel over and over again for the rest of my life, if that’s what you were passionate about. I love your music and I love listening to you play it. You’re my girl. I’m gonna’ be there to support my girl.”

Moving your hand, you intertwined your fingers with his. Unable to find the words to express to him how much his proclamation had meant to you, you simply nodded as tears of relief and happiness began to well in your eyes. Silently, he disentangled his hand from yours and reached up, thread his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulled you into him, bending down to kiss you sweetly, but firmly. His kiss was a promise and a reassurance that he was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The flutter of your eyelashes as they closed pushed a single tear down the side of your cheek, the warm wetness of it rolling until it reached the line of your jaw. Steve pulled away from you, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear from your face.

“Stay the night with me tonight?” you asked, the words leaving you like a physical need.

Steve’s eyes widened in response, before searching your face for any sign that you didn’t mean what you said. But you did.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

The room was lit by only moonlight as you slowly undressed. Each article of clothing removed, revealing more of your body and more of your soul to the man in front of you. Reverently he sat at the edge of your bed, shirt and shoes already removed, as he watched you bare yourself to him. Once completely free of your clothes, you were overtaken by a wave of insecurity, wanting nothing more than to cover yourself, but the sound of Steve’s voice broke you of the urge.

“Come here,” he whispered, eyes shining in the darkness.

Tentatively you stepped towards him, toes digging into the plush rug sat under your bed. He guided you onto his lap, his hands ghosting over the skin at your sides as he took you in. Steve looked at you the way he looked at you the first night you spoke – like a man seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time. The heat of his gaze made you both unbearably aroused and unbearably uncomfortable. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed him, a mesh of lips and tongues that left you breathless and wanting. Moving your hands down his chest, you felt the unyielding muscle under warm skin. Like a Greek god, sculpted by the greatest minds of the renaissance, he was gorgeous. The feeling of his mouth connecting with one of your nipples stole the breath from your lungs, making you keen with desire as you arched into him.

He continued to lavish your chest, switching between breasts as he kissed, licked, sucked, and nipped. Within no time, you were putty in his hands, a garbled mess of pleasure and want. When you thought you couldn’t take any more, he flipped you over, placing you gently onto the mattress and pulling away to remove the last of his clothing. Standing in front of you, stripped and vulnerable, you had the lucid thought that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

Climbing over you, he kissed his way up your body, leaving little bites and marks from your hip bone to your neck. You felt the hot, weight of him at your center, causing your hips to buck in response. A small whimper escaped you as he slid his length up and down your folds, grinding into you as bit down on your lower lip. Hot and wet and hard, he eased into you slowly, watching your face as he did. Eyes endlessly light blue, he stared into your soul as he panted heavily at the tight feel of you around him. Impossibly full of him and only him, you took deep breaths as you adjusted to it. Pulling your arms from around his back, he pinned your hands to the pillows behind your head, threading his fingers with yours as he pulled out of you slowly and pushed back in. The sweet friction was enough to make you sing.

Steadily, his pace picked up speed as he rocked in and out of you. And while neither of you had said the words, he made love to you like they had been uttered a thousand times before. Your sweat-slicked bodies glided over each other as he fucked into with a devotion unlike any other. And you did the same, your hands and lips amorously worshipping his body as he brought you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Fingers plucking and hands strumming, it was as if the two of you were making music of your own, playing each other like instruments in the moon-soaked bedroom. The sweet sound built and built, an orchestration of harmonious balance rising higher and higher until you both reached the peak of your crescendo, only to fall blissfully from it in a lilting melody.

Laying in the aftermath of your song, you couldn’t help but think the words: I love this man.

***

“You really should eat something,” you said once again, pointing to the tray of untouched room service breakfast.

“I told you. I’m not hungry,” Steve snapped, moving in front of the mirror to tie his tie.

You sighed quietly to yourself. It had been a hard week. For both of you. This was not the first time Steve had been short with you today and you expected it would not be the last. Then of course, you couldn’t blame him. You were going to a funeral after all. Grabbing your cup of coffee from the tray, you wordlessly excused yourself to the bathroom to finish your makeup. Once in the crippling silence of the surrounding white tile, you braced yourself against the bathroom counter and took deep, calming breaths. You could do this. You had to be able to do this. For you. For your relationship. But most importantly, for Steve.

And you were trying, really you were, but nothing had prepared you for this. Although, you doubted anything really could. Supporting your boyfriend through the death of a past love was not an everyday scenario. He was trying to keep it together; you knew he was. You could see the sadness in his eyes and on his face when he thought you weren’t looking. But you were always looking. It was not easy watching him mourn the loss of another woman. It brought up all the ugly insecurities you tried to mask and move past. In no way did you blame him either. Peggy was an important part of his life – a part that you would never fully understand – and he had loved her. You respected that, but it didn’t stop the evil thoughts that crept into your mind. The ones that whispered things like he would never love you like he loved her, that this loss would make him realize that you were nothing but second best, that he would realize that you weren’t good enough. Shaking the nagging voices away, you unzipped your makeup bag and began pulling out the items you needed.

Steve cared for you; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked you to be here with him. He wouldn’t have flown you all the way to London with him for this funeral. He wouldn’t be depending on you for support and companionship. All of this you knew, but every jab and harsh word left you feeling more and more doubt. Of course, this was not Steve’s fault. He was grieving and if that meant you had to be strong for the both of you, then so be it. You would put your hurt aside and put on a brave face so that Steve could be the weak one. He deserved, at the very least, that.

Brushing on a bit of mascara and pulling out a sensible lip color, the sound of a light knock brought your attention to the exit of the bathroom. Steve, in black suit and tie, stood in the doorway, hair neatly jelled and tie crooked. He pointed to the askew item of clothing in utter defeat, a hopeless expression on his face. You set your lipstick down and crossed the room to him, reaching for his tie and undoing it before going through the familiar routine.

“I’m sorry.”

Too engrossed with the movement of your hands, you didn’t look up when you answered, keeping your voice light and casual, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” You finished the knot, straightening it snuggly against his Adams Apple and giving the length of the tie a little pat. He caught your hands before you could bring them down to your sides, holding them in his own and bringing them up to lightly kiss your fingers.

“Thank you for being here with me. I don’t think I could have done this without you.” His words were honest and sincere and meant the world to you. The fact that even when he was falling apart at the seams, he still cared enough to keep your emotions in mind, held more weight than any cynical thought your brain could create.

Standing on tiptoes, you held his face in your hands and looked into the depths of his blue eyes, “Today is going to absolutely suck. It really is. And I’m so sorry that it has to happen. But I’m right here. Anything you need, I’m right here. I promise.”

Steve nodded, his eyes becoming misty and red. Silently, the two of you exited the bathroom and grabbed your things. You, a coat and purse; him, a coat and a slice of toast.

You were just out the door, Steve following behind when you felt the soft brush of his fingers as he tucked in the tag of your blouse. The act though small and seemingly insignificant, was like a whispered proclamation on your skin. A murmured promise of I love you.

***

A year and a half and blissfully content, you lounged in your bed, staring at the expanse of Steve’s naked back as he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Muscles rolling and flexing, he scrubbed at the dishes from dinner.

“How is it, that I always end up doing all the cooking and cleaning when this is your apartment?” Steve asked teasingly over his shoulder as you stretched out in satisfaction across the bed, sheets still wrinkled and twisted from your after dinner ‘dessert’.

You laughed, rolling over and smiling lazily in his direction, “Because you’re a much better cook and you love me.”

Steve chuckled, a short, barking sound you had come to know as sarcastic, “I don’t know what me loving you has to do with getting stuck doing the dishes every night.”

“Shall I play you a song to make the job easier?” you asked, reaching over the foot of the bed and pulling up your guitar from its careless place on the ground. You pushed yourself into a sitting position against the headboard and began to strum a series of chords.

“Mmmm, I guess that’s a fair payment,” Steve responded warmly.

“I knew you’d say that!” you exclaimed happily, starting into one of Steve’s personal favorites.

A half hour later, dishes done, and Steve now laid on the bed with his head propped up on your outstretched legs, you were still playing. Languidly, you plucked and strummed through all the songs you knew until you found yourself playing something you hadn’t planned on showing him yet. He picked up immediately on the unfamiliar progression, turning his head to look at you.

“I haven’t heard that one before, what is it?” he asked, running his fingertips tenderly up and down your bare calf.

“Just something new I’ve been working on,” you answered sheepishly, continuing to repeat the first few chords.

“Something new? What’s it about?”

“You.”

Your profession took him by surprise, a delighted smile spreading across his face as he looked up at you, “You wrote a song about me?”

“Maybe,” you answered, nudging his far shoulder with your toes.

“Is it a sad song?” he asked playfully as he turned his head to stare up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s not a sad song.”

“Oh no, is it an angry song?”

You giggled, “Definitely not.”

“A happy song?” he questioned once more, knowing full well that that was the answer all along.

“Yes. It’s a happy song. A very happy song,” you stated, looking down at him and wondering how in the world you got so lucky. “The happiest song, actually.”

“Well then, play away.”

And you did. You played, pouring every ounce of love and adoration into the melody and lyrics, as Steve listened quietly, looking at you like the world began and ended with that one song. You played knowing that you had never been happier than in that moment, and you played knowing that life could only get better from there on out.

To listen to the song written for Steve, please follow this link: https://soundcloud.com/user-144129307/steves-song

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@grincheveryday

#lemons #fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #fluff #love #angst #music

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thebraingremlinsaremad · 4 years ago

Text

Daily Blog #6: August 13, 2021

Okay, okay, I know it's a couples days later, but I can assure you that I did not forget; I purposefully, and kinda without a better option, didn't post on Friday, and you'll see why.

So the day started off pretty regularly: I got up, ate breakfast, got a shower, and then sat around playing games and watching YouTube for a bit.

That was until my friend showed up at my house...

He called me and said to come outside, so I did.

It wasn't long until I got into his car, and we started driving.

I definitely should have been more anxious or nervous heading out, but for some reason, I just sat there with my head absentmindedly poking out the window, not really thinking about it.

I really wish I had grasped the situation a little better.

We got down there after an hour and a half of driving and we parked a bit away because there were so many people there, so many people there, in fact, that we just got some food until it calmed down again.

It was gonna be a great fucking concert.

Hella Mega Tour 2021, originally supposed to be Hella Mega Tour 2020, but postponed for obvious reasons.

We shopped for a tiny bit beforehand, not buying anything, and then headed over to the stadium 45 minutes before the concert was set to start. We were let in about 10 minutes later, and we filled our contraband water bottles that we managed to hide on the way in.

We sat there for a bit, me just listening to music on my Redmi Buds 3 pro.

I love these things.

Pretty soon the music started, and it was The Interrupters; everyone was feeling pretty lazy for this bit.

It's not like they were bad or anything, they were actually pretty good, but I guess everyone was just getting situated and didn't wanna bother using up all of their energy lol.

So The Interrupters' set is up, and they tear down the stage and reset it. Before too terribly long, Weezer starts up, and there's a lot bigger reaction from the crowd than there was before: people knew the songs, like Africa, Buddy Holly, Beverly Hills, and Feels Like Summer to name a few.

I was getting into it a bit, I knew a good few of the songs, I was moving along, I sang a bit, took some video.

What's cool is that I could feel myself moving along the scale, like going from no excitement while no one was playing, then tapping my foot and grooving to The Interrupters.

When Weezer first came on, I was just sitting there like, "alright, this is good shit." Towards the end, I was quietly singing Buddy Holly, their last song for the night.

I say quietly because there was a lot more loudness to come.

I should add that, up until this point, the music had been kinda unbearably loud, the highs really piercing and hitting hard.

Additionally, up until this point, I had been trying my best to document the concert with videos and audio recordings; it wasn't so much about enjoying the concert, for I've always been taught just to record stuff and not worry about the concert.

I don't think I've ever really enjoyed any of the concerts I've ever been to; I was there, but I wasn't. I didn't really know too many of the songs, and I had only listened to the artists in passing, not to mention the fact that my mother had been at every other concert I've been to, which is stifling in itself. I really can't enjoy anything when she's around.

But here we were; it was starting to get dark, and Fall out Boy was coming onstage. The crowd was getting into it with Weezer, and it was time for Fall Out Boy. The energy here had far exceeded both Weezer and The Interrupters, and this went for me as well.

I was sitting there, singing along and still occasionally recording, but I didn't have my phone out too much. I started to dance in my seat with every song, for I knew almost every one: Sugar, We're Going Down, Centuries, My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark, Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy, The Last of the Real Ones, Save Rock And Roll, and Dance, Dance being a few.

Throughout this set, everyone was singing along, but the real fun had yet to begin; the scent of smoke from the flames and fireworks finding its way through the crowd, the music now strong instead of piercing, a sense of unity between everyone in this packed stadium, between people of all walks of life: men, women, children, transgender, cisgender, non-binary, gay, straight, lesbian, ace, black, white, Asian, Mexican, young, old, middle-aged, and everything in between and outside... It didn't matter who you were or where you came from; you were at a fucking party, and everyone was gonna fuck it up once the main act came on stage.

Meanwhile, everyone was more than happy to celebrate with Fall Out Boy and some of their greatest and most memorable tracks.

Part way through Fall Out Boy's set, I decided to get off of my ass and join the growing number of audience members who were really getting into the groove and feeling the music.

It was so close to becoming an explosion of energy once Fall Out Boy was about to leave the stage.

After they left, the set was torn down once again and set up for Green Day.

Their was a low mix of music playing through the speakers all the while things were being set up. Once the stage was set, the music continued for a bit, but was then cut and replaced with a voice and lyrics that everyone knew immediately.

"Is this the real life. Is this just fantasy."

The crowd sings along to every word.

"Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality."

Freddie's voice poured out into the crowd, and the crowd sang them right back.

"Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see"

The song continued, and the whole crowd sang to the very end.

This really goes to show how impactful some people and groups can be on our lives... Although no one at the show was connected to Queen or Freddie Mercury, everyone who came to see these 4 bands still knew this great group.

Once the song was over, a mix of some of the most famous rock anthems began to play:

"We will, we will rock you"

"I love rock and roll"

"Hey, Ho, let's go"

A glorious piece all lead up to the 4 running onstage, Billie Joe Armstrong, Jason White, Mike Dirnt, and Tre Cool, joined now by 2 new members, Jason Freese and Kevin Preston.

All at once, it was an explosion of strong and passionate guitar jamming, soon followed by the drums and vocals of American Idiot. All at once, the crowd was rocking along with bopping heads, stomping feet, and swaying bodies. I only had my phone out to record for a short moment before I put it away and scarcely removed it from my pants for the rest of the concert.

I couldn't help but feel cocky, as a bi/pansexual (idk which one lmao), being allowed to sing the line,

"Well maybe I'm the faggot America"

I was like, "You straight bastards better not be singing that line 🤣"

It was absolutely incredible; the crowd cheered passionately and wholeheartedly at the end of every song and solo, after every quote from the band.

The coolest part about the concert was the fact that everyone just lost themselves in the music, as well as that everyone, without hesitation, followed what Billie Joe said. He says jump? WE FUCKING JUMPED. He tells us to scream? We. Fucking. Screamed. And when he wanted us to sing, we sang. I mean, okay, we were singing the whole time xD. I'm sure we would've sang if he told us to and we weren't already doing so lmao. What he said was our law, and we were doing our jobs as the dutiful citizens of Suburbia by following those laws.

It really is hard to express the level of pure energy at this gathering, especially when it radiates from every point in the packed stadium.

I screamed so loud and hard, and sang so long and passionately, that my voice started to go. But. Guess. What.

When you're at a place like this, no matter what, you just have this insatiable urge to keep going no matter what. When my arm got tired of throwing my fist in the air, I kept fucking going and even used the other arm too.

It's such a strange feeling when you feel like you're about to give out, like your voice is gonna break, or you're gonna collapse from dehydration and exhaustion, but you find around you the strength and power to keep on going, no matter how quickly your vocal health deteriorates.

Ask my friend, I couldn't speak properly after that shit xD. He even threatened to send a video of me talking to my choral teacher, who honestly would have been mad at me lmao.

Meanwhile, Green Day is playing some of their greatest hits, old and new alike, and I knew every single fucking one of them. I sang every song, and only took a break between 2 of them to down my whole bottle of contraband water in 3 seconds flat.

At one point, the band stopped playing, and Billie spoke into the microphone.

"Get your pretty lights out. I wanna see the pretty lights."

Everyone got their phones out and turned the torches on, as per his command.

"Turn the house lights off."

The lights go off, and the stadium is lit up almost as bright as it had been before, but this time with the lights of thousands.

"Look at that."

It was honestly an incredible moment.

That brings me to another point: when you go to a concert, you're not just paying for the music, you're not just paying to see a band, you're paying for an experience.

Let me tell you, this was one hell of an experience.

If you don't leave a concert feeling fulfilled, then the performers didn't do their job of giving you the experience that you paid to be a part of. I'm so happy that these four bands, especially Green Day, were able to deliver.

I really did love every moment of that show, which is such a rarity for me. I'm really happy that my friend took my mother's place. I can't fucking enjoy everything when she's around.

Oh yes, it wouldn't be one of my daily blogs without me talking about how my mother consistently pisses me off. Don't worry, I have some happy shit left to end on.

I swear to fluff though, she always manages to ruin everything for me. When we went to see The Lion King on Broadway, she insisted on coming with. That meant that I wasn't able to relax in my seat because this disgusting woman was sitting next to me and I had to cram myself to the side of my chair away from her. It meant that I wasn't allowed to cry when Mufasa died or during Can You Feel The Love Tonight because I knew I'd get made fun of for it.

I even went to a Fall Out Boy concert before, her refusing to let me go myself, and I didn't sing a single song because she'd just tell me to let the professionals handle it.

And for fuck's sake, the time she compared me trying to fucking validate my existence as a trans person to her wanting a car... That will always fucking piss me off.

Sorry, I got sidetracked. I was talking about how she ruins everything for me.

I literally cannot be myself around her. I've always been judged and ridiculed by my parents, and still am. I can't enjoy anything when they're around because I'm too focused on trying not to get made fun of or yelled at.

That being said, that concert was absolutely fucking incredible. I was with thousands of people who felt the same way that I did, and I could fucking jam out if I wanted to.

Apart from everyone being really on top of their game, and Billie Joe basically not aging since he turned 25, the only really notable thing left to say about the performance was when they pulled a kid guitarist onstage. He played for a bit, and they ended up letting him keep the guitar lmao.

BEST PART IS:

I SAW THE KID AFTER THE CONCERT, AND I WAS LIKE,

"Omg, hey, can I get a selfie with you?"

I was trying to be really low-key and quiet cuz I didn't wanna draw too much attention to him lmao.

The security guard was like, "Yeah, sure, but hurry up."

I TOOK THE PIC REALLY QUICKLY AND THEN HEADED OUT

HERE IT IS

YES, OF COURSE I BLOCKED OUT MY FACE

But I absolutely love the vibes of this photo xD. It's blurry, the lighting is shit, and you can barely make out any details. It has a lot of character, and I would take this over a clean, clear photo any day.

Walking away, the kid's mom said, "You're like, the coolest kid ever now."

Agreed.

Then it was time to go home. Honestly, I didn't feel sad that it didn't last longer, or disappointed that I had to leave. I was actually very satisfied and fulfilled with what happened, which is honestly the way it should be.

Driving home, I stayed awake by sticking my arm out of the window and letting the cold rain hit fast like tiny needles.

I got home.

I passed out.

Although, that was technically on Saturday 🤔

ANYWAY, THIS IS MY LONG ASS BLOG FOR FRIDAY THE 13TH

I hope you enjoyed

Be good people!!!!

-Leonna

#Concert #Green Day #Fall Out Boy #Weezer #The Interrupters #Green Day Concert #Daily Blog #Blog #Trans #LGBTQ #alternative rock #Alternative #Pop Punk #Punk Rock

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henrylevesconte · 5 years ago

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not to be evil but 50 for creamsicle dude

50- In the Afterlife

(Spoilers for Reservoir Dogs, language, and descriptions of wounds/violence)

“I’m a cop, Larry.” Freddy chokes as his vision blurs, the second bullet burning a hole through his already injured stomach. He’s dying and no matter what words Larry says to calm him, he’s fucking dead when the cops finally get to him.

Freddy had been painting the warehouse floor red for hours as the heist members bickered over what to do with him and now they were all dead except for White and Orange. Even if the LAPD bust through the door now and arrested an injured Mister White and managed to get Freddy to a hospital in time, he couldn’t live with himself. He couldn’t live with Larry, his Larry, believing they would serve jail time together, that he was right in killing Joe Cabot and Nice Guy Eddie. His soul was too heavy for him to die a liar.

The howl the older thief emits is the most heartbroken sound Freddy has ever heard and he sinks more into the older man’s lap, deflated and defeated. He can’t see him but he feels hot tears fall on his face from above. He tries in vain to grab onto his Larry, but his arms felt like jello, like he was trying to fight in a dream, punch underwater. He would be frustrated if he could feel anything at all besides the creeping coldness.

“I’m so sorry, oh Larry I’m so sorry.” Freddy chanted, over and over as he felt something cool press against his cheek. There was something happening in the distance but he could only hear Larry as he mourned for the person he thought he had fallen so deeply in love with. Freddy couldn’t blame him, he liked Mister Orange a hell of a lot better than the sad kid turned Cop Freddy Newandyke.

The younger man tried again, this time to tell him, to tell Larry his name like Larry did for him when the took the car but there was a loud sound outside that startled both men. The last sound Freddy heard before the world went entirely black was the sounds of his colleagues finally storming the building. Too little too late for him as he was another corpse in the ill-fated warehouse. Freddy Newandyke died a free man but an unhappy one, in the arms of the only person he had ever truly loved and the only man he had ever completely betrayed.

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

Freddy wakes up after awhile, not sure where he is or what happened, vague images of the last scenes in the warehouse playing over in his mind as he tried to adjust his wary olive eyes. His hands quickly flew to his belly burying them under his tank top and feeling for what he was sure was two bullet holes only to find the smooth freckled untouched skin, just as it had been the morning before everything went to absolute shit. His hands slowly retracted, feeling his torso before he rubbed his eyes with balled fists until he could finally see he was laying in his brightly lit, shitty little LA apartment. The walls were the aqua blue he remembered begging his landlord to let him paint the place and ultimately won. He let out of a nervous laugh that threatened to turn into a sob if he didn’t keep himself together.

“How the hell am I here?” Freddy contemplated as he reached across his bedside table, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The young man pushed back his light brown hair back, noting the absence of sweat and pomade before fiddling with the lighter. “Mother fucker.” He seethed, pink lips wrapped around the cigarette as he tried desperately to get the thing to actually light.

Maybe he was in hell and this was a very minor inconvenience but part of a larger punishment? After all he deserved what was coming for him. He was a liar, a murderer, a thief. And all of it was for vanity and respect from men who saw his profession as subhuman anyways. Who was he really trying to impress; the LAPD who thought he was better off being a desk jockey and undercover fodder or the mob boss that said every slur under the sun with his brat and team of psychopaths? Freddy ended up like the psychopaths more than he was willing to admit. He ended up liking Mister White even more but he didn’t want to think about him.

The young man managed to get the lighter to do its job, enjoying the relief nicotine brought to his high strung nerves as he settled back down against his headboard. He ran a thumb over the broken lighter, looking at it a bit more now that he had calmed himself out of an existential panic. It looked so familiar but surely it wasn’t his, Freddy had a habit of misplacing every lighter he owned, always having to rely on someone else for a light.

That’s how he first really met Larry Dimmick, behind the club Joe and Eddie had invited him out to where he told the most riveting fucking story of 1992. He was sweating through his leather jacket, worried sick that he got any part of the commode story wrong and trying to take a break from being the cool dope peddler. White met him outside, cool as cool can be, in his Hawaiian shirt, half unbuttoned and inviting. Dark hair slicked back and styled like he was some sort of old Hollywood gangster.

“Hey, kid. Need a light?” Freddy swallowed down his nerves before leaning into the older man, cigarette between his lips as it takes a few tries and one curse to get Larry to light him one. The whole time, Freddy looks up at him from under his eye lashes, studying the firm and handsome face of the thief, justifying it as he would need to pick him out of a line up later. Tracing over every line and mark, and occasionally meeting whiskey brown eyes when they weren’t focused on the lighter.

“Thanks, man..” He said muffled between the cigarette and trying to keep himself cool. Larry lit himself one next before leaning up against the alleyway, one foot pressed to the bricks to keep his balance. This mystery man (at the time) was the coolest mother fucker in LA and Freddy was already screwed.

“Hell of a story you told back there. I know we can’t exchange names, but I’d like to buy you a drink....”

“Larry????” The memory faded just as it has begun as reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Freddy squirmed, falling out of bed just as quickly as he had gotten up. The cigarette nearly abandoned and burning a hole in his beige carpet. He quickly recovered it, snuffing it out in an ash tray and rolling back onto his feet. He reached the door, throwing it open only to find the Mister White standing in his kitchen, coffee mug cradled in his hands as he greeted him.

“About time you got up, kid. I thought you were gonna sleep all day.” There was no malice in his voice, which hurt the younger man even more than if Larry had lashed out at him. Instead, he was pulling out a chair for him at his wobbly little breakfast table and pouring Freddy fresh brewed coffee in his favorite mug (the one with Wolverine on it). It was domestic, just like it had been before the heist when they broke the rules time and time again to meet up in Orange’s apartment. They became fast friends and even faster lovers. White was in his bed three days after meeting in the bar and every night since. And Freddy had gotten so used to waking up to fresh coffee made by the thief who always woke up much earlier than him. This scene was pulled straight from the good times, before the failed diamond heist, the chase, the bullets...

Freddy stood in the door way like a frightened animal, unwilling to get any closer and clenching the lighter in his fist. The older man sighed deeply, annoyed already but trying a different approach to coax him forward.

“I’m not mad at you, Orange. Not now. But I need to talk to you, you at least owe me a conversation.” He did. He really owed him so much more and he hated hearing his alias. So Freddy settled into the kitchen, perching on his chair but pulling his legs up to his chest as he exchanged the lighter for the mug.

“Freddy. Freddy Newandyke.” He said, he had been so careful with his name, unlike Larry who came to him with his heart on his sleeve from the start. “Please call me that.” Larry frowned, digesting the information before shooting him a classic smile. That was the thing that killed him (well he was already dead..) the most, how accepting his Larry was.. If he still was his Larry.

“I never pictured you a Freddy but now that I know, it suits you. Kind of cute.” Larry pulled out his own chair and sat next to him, the younger man just now noticed that he was wearing his own pajamas, they were both as they were before everything went to shit. “Well Freddy, what the fuck was that all about huh?”

Freddy sighed, burning his tongue on his still too hot coffee before he began his full confession.

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

They talked and established three things over four pots of coffee and a few packs of cigarettes:

They were dead, Larry had shot Freddy and the LAPD had shot Larry for it. And they were in some form of purgatory, Larry was more into the idea of it being a different plane of existence while Freddy was sure they were in the biblical definition of purgatory.

Freddy was a cop, the one feeding the police information about the heist the whole time but he was remorseful about it.

They loved each other still despite what happened.

Larry held his hand, rubbing his knuckles with a calloused thumb while Freddy choked out the last of it. He was a mess, worked up and teary eyed with his free arm flailing for emphasis with every “I’m sorry, I fucked up, I don’t deserve you.”

The older man shook his head and pulled Freddy into his lap, cradling him like he was on the warehouse floor again but with less urgency. Mister White wrapped an arm around his waist and used the other to cup his cheek.

“You broke my fucking heart, kid.” Larry whispered into his temple before placing soft kisses along his hairline. Freddy shuttered at the tenderness he truly did not deserve, he clung instead to Larry for dear life as he continued to whisper to him, “But I killed you so I’d call that even.”

“I’m sorry, Larry. I’ll never not be sorry about this. I love you so much..” He whimpered before being silenced by Larry’s lips on his own. He had missed them so much after getting caught up in a whirlwind of events, it felt like he was finally home. Here in Larry Dimmick’s arms and with his lips on his. Freddy could have sworn he felt his heart beat again. It was Larry who broke it off to brush the hair from his lovers face.

“We’ve got time, and I love you so much, Freddy, I’m willing to give it another try.” Larry smiled at him like he was telling the fake commode story and Freddy’s soul felt more free than he had in ages. Maybe this was heaven after all.

#ask meme #fuck this is long #reservoir dogs #larry dimmick #freddy newandyke #mister white #mister orange #creamsicle #i write sins and tragedies #hungry-hobbits #angst #with fluff at the end #spoilers for a movie that came out in the 90s

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captcas · 5 years ago

Text

Worth Fighting For

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2

[CHAPTER 3/?]

Saturday night brings their monthly movie/game night and Emma has never been more grateful for a distraction. Ruby and the Nolans will come over around 6 o’clock and Henry is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Tonight’s theme is Star Wars and this will be Henry’s official introduction to the series; at David’s insistence they’re starting with A New Hope and going release order from there. They’re also going to play Star Wars trivia which Henry will undoubtedly suck at.

Should be a fun night all around.

And it was, until Henry went to bed and the “adults” got to talking.

Ruby cracks another beer and turns to Emma, “So, Emma, you’ve got probably the coolest new job in the world and you haven’t said jack shit.”

She shoots Ruby an icy glare as David and MM stop bickering over whether or not Kylo Ren deserved a redemption arc to hear what Emma has to say.

Emma sighs, “It’s going alright. All the onboarding is underway and between the perks, benefits, and pay, Henry should be set for life.” She’s been fortunate to live off her winnings for the past nine years, being mindful of money and not giving into the lifestyle of frivolous spending many fighters take on, but -even her friends know- she doesn’t have a money tree.

The looks on their faces when she mentions Henry being set for life could melt 1000 Olafs. When she arrived at Ruth Nolan’s home at the age of 16, she never expected to find a family. Hardened by a life too lived for anyone her age, Emma assumed they’d be like every other foster home and use her for the money. To this day, she’s never been so happy to be wrong.

Emma’s not sure what twist of fate landed an orphan with such a great support system, but she’ll be forever grateful. David took to the “protective brother” role immediately. Soon after Emma moved in, he met Mary Margaret (fireworks and butterflies and all that mumbo jumbo) who introduced them to Ruby. They’re small, and maybe a bit scrappy, but they’re family.

She breaks out of her thoughts and returns to the present, “I will need some babysitting though; I’m required to attend each of my client’s Fight Nights. But overall it’s great, really!”

She hopes she squeaked away without having to mention Jones at all but the glint in Ruby’s eye tells her otherwise. “Ok that’s all fine and dandy,” Mary Margaret shoots Ruby an incredulous look, warning her to tread carefully, but Ruby ignores her and continues, “but who’s the client?”

David is giving her a protective father vibe, Ms is practically vibrating, and she's pretty sure Ruby is salivating. Emma sighs realizing she shouldn’t postpone the inevitable, “Killian Jones.”

Ruby practically drops her drink and Mary Margaret squeals, David rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV where SportsCenter has been playing in the background. Mary Margaret beats Ruby to the punch, “THE Killian Jones?! As in Killian “Hook” Jones?!”

Emma nods, standing up to refill the only slightly empty chip bowl in front of her. She knew this was going to happen and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her friends thirsting over her client– client… right.

Ruby speaks next, “Well that is probably the best case scenario. Do you think he can get us tickets? Have you met him? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on TV? Can we meet him?”

Emma, now glad she’s in the kitchen with space to breathe, is starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. She knows Ms can sense it and is unsurprised when she speaks next,“For Christ’s sake Ruby let her breathe. She’s probably only had her initial meeting with him.”

Ruby seems to get the hint and it doesn’t take long before Ms is in the kitchen helping Emma pick up the leftover pizza, “We’re happy for you, Emma. He’s a huge client for them, they obviously trust you to do a good job.” Emma nods in thanks and they both head back into the living room. Her sister-in-law’s warmth always calms her (and Ruby) down which allows David to jump in and change the subject to the coverage of some football player’s arrest on SportsCenter. Emma finally catches a breath and realizes just how lucky she is for the friend dynamic they have before settling in to debate if this James Spencer kid should still be eligible for the draft.

As she lays in bed that night, Ms’ words ring through her head. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions she’s been feeling, Killian is a huge client, one that was formerly represented by a namesake for the company. This re energizes her a bit and helps her fall asleep, actually excited for what's to come.

She wakes up Sunday morning and makes Henry some pancakes and declares it a lazy Sunday. Henry happily obliged, cuddling up on the couch with The Deathly Hallows while Emma threw on some shitty reality TV.

. . .

When her alarm rings Monday morning, Emma pulls her pillow over her head like some teenager from one of those Disney Channel movies.

It takes her a second to remember what day it is and why she’s up at this godforsaken hour.

Killian Jones. Right.

She audibly groans before rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day. Between her shower and breakfast she gets Henry up. School starts at 8 so he’s technically running a bit behind but he’ll make it on the bus in time… hopefully.

She’s pouring him a bowl of cereal when he comes out of his room zipping up his sweater and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, kid. Coco Puffs or Fruit Loops?” He mumbles some semblance of what she thinks is Fruit Loops so she pours the bowl and slides it across the kitchen island. He smiles in thanks as she pours her own bowl and sits beside him.

“So today’s the big day?”

She didn’t tell Henry about her new client and when she spoke to the Nolan’s and Ruby, he was definitely supposed to be sleeping. “How could you possibly know that?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are and I’m not as tired as you think I am.” He yawns as if to punctuate his point.

“Uh huh, sure, kid.” He gives her a knowing glance and she realizes she’s not getting out of this. She runs her hands over her face and sighs, “Yes, today is the first meeting and I’m only slightly nervous to fu— screw this whole thing up.”

Henry chuckles at her attempted censorship (she never said she was a perfect parent), “You’ll be great, Mom, and Hook seems like a decent enough guy. I’m sure he won’t give you too much trouble.”

She stares at Henry a bit dumbfounded. It shocks her everyday how old he’s getting– nine going on nineteen for sure. “Are you hiding some Weasley’s Extendable Ears in your room or something? Are you a wizard? Should you be at Hogwarts?” Emma is very obviously trying to derail this conversation but it works, setting Henry off about how he’s finally on the sixth book and explaining the concept of a horcrux.

Oh, her sweet summer child.

God, maybe he is old enough for UFC.

When did that happen?

She ushers Henry to the bus, promising him they’ll watch the sixth movie tonight if he finishes the book today and is to school on time. It’s only September and he can’t be late three times in the first month of school. She kisses his forehead and he wishes her good luck.

Sometimes she wonders how such a screw up ended up with the perfect kid.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Emma finishes getting ready. She jumps on the subway and finds herself at the office with a half hour to spare. She’s never early so she chalks it up to nerves and uses the time to prep for this meeting.

Over the weekend she received multiple emails from Gold’s team surrounding a possible spot for Killian on the card for the pay-per-view Fight Night in November.

A pay-per-view card. She did enough research about Killian this weekend to know that would be his first.

Emma feels like she’s been thrown into the deep end before being taught how to swim.

Go big or go home.

She did a lot of research about Killian and learned practically nothing. She knows he came here from London almost ten years ago and that his team includes his head trainer Robin (husband of now former manager Regina Mills), and three other men named Will Scarlett, August Booth, and William Smee (he’s really selling it with that whole Hook theme). Other than that all she found was his record and highlights. He’s 6-0 which is insane for only being in the circuit for a year and a half– fighters are usually limited to three, maybe four fights a year.

4 of his 6 are knockouts.

He’s good… really good.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a light tapping on the edge of her cubicle. She glances up to find none other than the man himself. She can’t help but double take.

Real professional, Emma.

She's only ever seen him in the ring, at the gym, or dressed up for a business meeting. She’s not sure what she expected, but a leather jacket and pants that fit him like his own skin definitely weren’t it.

He looks good… really good.

Emma snaps herself out of it, “Hi, Mr. Jones, just give me a moment and we can head to the conference room.”

“It’s Killian, love, please.” She notices he winces at the seemingly habitual pet name. Emma ignores the ring of disappointment that runs through her gut at the realization that it may not be reserved for her. “A conference room’s a bit formal, don’t you think? Let’s get out of here, Swan.”

He grabs her hand before she can answer. “Mr.— Killian. Is this allowed?”

He chuckles. “We can plan the meetings at our leisure,” he says the last bit in an almost scary imitation of Regina, “but even still, Regina and I never met in office. A bit silly for two people to take up an entire conference room, yeah? Come on, lass, try something new. It’s called trust.”

Emma rolls her eyes but follows along anyway. The elevator ride should’ve been awkward but Killian kept the conversation flowing by asking her preferred drink. “Coffee, tea, or smoothies?”

Despite the risk of sounding like a child, Emma finds herself being honest with him, “Uhh, I actually prefer hot chocolate… with cinnamon.”

He smiles brightly at her, as though her drink order was the most brilliant discovery this century, “Perfect, Swan. I know just the place.”

She was so swept up in his ambush, she doesn’t realize that this isn’t the cocky, asshat Killian Jones she sees on tv or at the gym until he’s practically dragging her across the street to a small cafe. This Killian seems genuine and carries this almost childlike excitement.

Emma tells herself she has no interest in learning more about this Killian.

(Emma doesn’t have to tell herself that that is complete bullshit.)

. . .

He can’t stop himself from beaming when she offers up her drink order without hesitation. Killian feels like a bloody teenager around her. He promised himself he wouldn’t feel this way again, but something about Emma Swan has completely entranced him.

He finds himself fascinated with every part of her, including the small things, like the fact she takes cinnamon on her hot chocolate.

Once they get to the cafe across the street, Killian forces himself to dial it back. He can tell she’s guarded and as much as he’d like to be friends (more than friends) with the lass, he knows business has to come first.

It wouldn’t exactly be a good look for him if he ran “The Savior” out of the office on her second day.

Somehow he thinks he doesn’t have that power.

He’d like to. (Obviously not to run her out of the office, but he’d like his existence to mean that much to her.)

Bloody hell, he's being ridiculous.

They sit down across from each other at a small table by the window. He expects to start the conversation but before he can form a coherent thought she’s speaking.

“So, Killian. I’ve already received some correspondence from Gold’s team. I’m not sure how much time you usually take between fights and I know it’s already the end of September but…”

She’s rambling and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anybody so adorable when they’re nervous.

Adorable is not a professional descriptor.

Killian Jones doesn’t want “professional” with Emma Swan.

Fuck.

“...Gold is hoping to get you on the main card for November 14th.”

Did she just say main card?

He chokes on his coffee.

“Main card, Swan? I’ve never been on the main card. Strictly early prelims…”

She eyes him suspiciously, “Usually that’s a good thing. Upward momentum and all that. His team is clearly impressed by your dominant record.”

“Is his team the only one impressed?” The flirt escapes him before he can stop it.

Bloody idiot.

She doesn’t even bat an eye, “The entire league seems to be impressed, Jones.” Her tone tells him she knows what just happened but she shut it down immediately.

He likes a challenge.

Emma Swan may be his favorite challenge yet.

Emma Swan is off limits, but Killian will be damned if he cares.

. . .

Emma is surprised when Killian pays for their drinks despite her insistence that she can charge it to Mills Management. She’s also surprised by how nice he is.

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’s still waiting.

He’s definitely flirtatious, every other sentence being easily twisted into some sort of innuendo, but she can tell it’s a front. The little things he does like tipping the barista an extra fifty cents or holding the door for her, let on to the man behind the persona.

Well, and the fact he practically chokes when she tells him they want him for the main card.

He seems genuinely shocked that anyone would be impressed by him. His mask comes out almost immediately, another innuendo laced into his question. She doesn’t let him go there, shutting it down as quickly as it started. For this to work, she needs him the real him. Not the cocky MMA fighter who he used to catch the eye of UFC execs. She compliments him, and it’s beyond genuine. That seems to calm his nerves a bit as they move into social media management and he shifts into a professionalism she’s not entirely prepared for.

She’s not sure she wants professional Killian Jones.

Whoa, Emma, pump the breaks.

She shakes it off as she watches him take notes on what she’s saying about the importance of a lead up on Twitter and how it can set the tone for the entire fight. His tongue runs along the inside of his lower lip as he concentrates and she can’t help the overwhelming wave of attraction that hits her.

Like lightning.

It’s not just the tongue, (but that’s not helping) it’s his dedication to this sport and how he actually gives a fuck about what she’s saying. Killian never displayed even a hint of the deeply rooted misogyny that runs rampant throughout the industry. He actually seems almost humbled by her presence. The words escape her mouth before she can’t stop them, “Why are you actually taking anything I say seriously?”

Very professional, Emma. Way to instill confidence in your client. Smooth.

His head snaps up at her abrupt question and he looks confused. “I know you don’t like being called a legend, Swan, but you were a damn good fighter. If I walk out of this partnership with half the following and success you had, I’d call that a win.”

She’s stunned by his sincerity.

Brick. Wall. (She thinks she hears Pink Floyd somewhere in the distance.)

“And I suppose you think you know all about me from our, what, three conversations now?” She knows it’s snippy, that’s the point.

He stops typing and puts his phone down. “Pardon me, love, but you’re a bit of an open book.”

Emma scoffs, “Anyone with the internet knows I prefer people don’t call me a legend.”

“Aye, but do they know it’s because you feel too young with a career too short to have made an impact? That you feel choosing yourself, a life, over MMA removes all glory from your name?”

Emma is entirely shaken by his apparent ability to read her like a fucking picture book. (Does that even make sense? Do you read picture books?) Emma never had a formal retirement ceremony; gloves in the middle of the ring and all that. She had asked Gold to be taken off the roster and for a quiet exit and that’s what he’d given her. The public doesn’t know the real reason she left MMA, her attempt at keeping Henry’s life as normal as possible, but somehow Killian–

Brick. Brick. Brick.

“Let’s talk about Instagram.” She sees the disappointment sweep across his face, realizing she can read him pretty well too. That’s terrifying.

Way more terrifying than social media plans.

They keep it strictly business for the rest of the meeting. She’s startled when her stomach rumbles and she checks the time.

12:00. They’ve been strategizing for three hours.

She’s not sure where the time went, and when Killian asks her if she wants to grab a bite to eat together, she’s startled again by her initial gut reaction to say yes.

Obviously, she says no and makes up some lie about needing to get back to the office. He knows it’s a lie, she can see it all over his face. He doesn’t push her though, and she’s grateful. They set their next meeting and Emma’s heart speeds up, seemingly unaware that this is a business meeting and not a date. She shakes his hand and promises to have a full plan ready for Thursday before practically sprinting out of the cafe.

In three conversations Killian Jones has gone from asshat to… who knows. One thing Emma does know is that Killian Jones is off limits to the highest of ethical degrees. But what scares her most, is that she’s not entirely sure she cares.

. . .

As soon as he asks her to lunch he knows he’s pushed too far.

Actually, he perhaps pushed too far by letting on just how easy it was for him to read her, but lunch, well that was just asking for a brick wall. He runs his hands across his face, completely taken with someone he has no right to. She’s witty, smart, and could probably kick his ass— scratch that, could definitely kick his ass— but she also has demons, he can see them swimming behind her eyes. Demons that seem scarily similar to his, maybe not on the surface but definitely in their damage. Emma is raw and unapologetic; a real human being who is, for all intents and purposes, unimpressed by the suave persona of Killian “Hook” Jones.

She’s bloody perfect.

He’s fucking fucked.

Eloquent.

Killian decides to grab a quick lunch from the cafe and head to the gym. He has a lot of pent up frustration and really feels the need to punch something. Thank god that’s his job. He scarfs down his sandwich, not realizing how hungry he was and jumps on the subway to the training center. He miraculously finds a seat and is able to scroll through his phone a bit. As he pokes around Twitter he finds an article announcing Emma “The Savior” Swan’s comeback to the UFC. He clicks on it, curiosity getting the better of him despite probably knowing the gist of the article.

He didn’t expect a timeline of her very impressive career:

2008: Swan joins the UFC with her Boston gym. Her debut match against Aurora Rose ended in a TKO. She’s back in action six months later fighting Ella Tremaine. She wins again, this time after three rounds by split decision.

2009: A dominant start to the year for The Savior with a first round submission against Tiana Dampier in January. She rounded out her year with another first round submission against El Oldenburg in May, and a third round knockout against Esmerelda Gringoire in October.

2010: Swan goes three rounds with Merida Baer and wins by unanimous decision. Swan wins again after three rounds by split decision against Megara Alcmene. The Savior’s final match is a KO against Mulan Fa rounding out her record to 8-0. Her next match, meant to be for the women’s title, was declined with no comment from The Savior.

2020: Swan joins Mills Management as a talent manager assigned to Killian “Hook” Jones.

Killian knew Swan was good, an early legend in her own right, but he had no idea she was this dominant. He also had no idea she left without so much as a wave goodbye. He figured he’d just missed the announcement seeing as it came well before his introduction into the sport. Against his typical moral code, he tries to google why she left but finds nothing. She knocks out Mulan Fa and then just stops being added to cards and fades away as new fighters take her place.

He knows there’s a reason for her secrecy and he’d be lying if he said curiosity was the only driving force behind his attempt to learn more. He finds himself wanting to know everything there is to know about Emma Swan; a deeper part of him aches for her to be the one who tells him.

He’s positive he can only dream of gaining that level of trust from her, but he has to try. Liam's words ring heavy in his ears, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

He gets off at the stop closest to the training center and walks through the front doors, waving to Belle at the front desk before heading into the locker room. He’s fortunate to be on the UFC roster, allowing him to keep his training gear at the center and not have to worry about lugging it around with him. It also gives him the freedom to come here whenever he needs to let off some steam. He changes quickly and finds a treadmill to warm up. He jogs a mile and a half before picking up the pace. Killian’s in the midst of his runner’s high when someone steps into the machine next to him. He turns his head to offer them a small smile in hello, it’s not that big of a gym, exclusive to the UFC industry and a few friends of friends, so chances are he knows the person at least in passing.

Oh, Killian knows them alright, and he practically falls off the treadmill when he sees her green eyes blown wide.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs modern au #emma swan #killian jones #capthamm #worth fighting for

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