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messrmoonyy · 2 years ago

Text

Touch

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

Prompt ( summarised ) - at the start when we first meet her and she's been jumped by Robert and his people, when tess comes home to find the reader pleasuring herself, Tess just like leans against the doorway watching and reader notices that Tess is there but keeps going but Tess tells her to stop. Tess teases/ keeps denying her orgasm. Also Joel ( who lives next door ) ends up bashing on the wall cause they’re being too loud.

Also paired with the prompt: ‘ I need Tess to tie me up and go town and be a little bit mean . I’m begging you write something like that ‘ because it just sort of happened lmao

A/N- anon. Angel. Let’s fuckin go. This is your one way ticket to horny jail, off you go. I just… I really don’t know what to say about this one. I was blushing writing this.. I did for the most part have game Tess in my head writing this. But I’ve told you all before you can imagine Whichever tess you want to ✨ anyway my loves. Enjoy

Warnings: 18+ || Tess, smut. Like. It’s just porn with not an ounce of plot. Smut: oral ( reader receiving ), fingering ( reader receiving) light dom/sub roles, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, light exhibitionism/ voyeurism, Tess and her praise, tasting yourself, use of handcuffs, reader is low-key a brat, mildly degrading, Tess is boobs over ass woman so, I think that’s all lmao holy shit.

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist - requests for the last of us are open!

Comments and re blogs are always appreciated! <3

It had been a shit day. Truly. You had been on one of the most boring work assignments, it had pissed it down with rain and you’d forgotten your jacket, the FEDRA asshole who’d been in charge of your group had been a dick and let you all go late and you’d missed ration pickup, so now you’d have to go tomorrow morning. And to round it all off, Tess was no where to be fucking seen.

Your girlfriend did have quite the habit of vanishing for longer than intended, so it didn’t worry you. It just pissed you off. When she got into those bad moods where she felt she could take over the entire world single handed, taking on drop offs that were far more efficient if she took you or Joel with her, and winding up making things harder for herself. Which clearly was what had happened yesterday. You hadn’t seen her for a good 24 hours now. In fact it was probably more than that.

Which was annoying. Cause you were wound too tight. Stressed. And you needed to blow off some steam, which Tess was always more than willing to assist you with. Yelling at each other for a bit before she grew tired of it and pinned you against whatever flat surface was closest. It worked every. Single. Time. You knew how to piss her off just enough to push her buttons the right way.

You hoped she’d be home waiting for you if you were honest, some excuse about how she got wind of someone trying to steal your shit or whatever. But you returned home to an apartment that was as empty as it was when you’d left.

You stripped yourself of your rain soaked clothes, tossing them in the general direction of the sink to wash later, and flopped down on your bed in your underwear with a sigh. Maybe the clothes on the floor would piss her off when she came in and that would push her buttons wonderfully.

You always knew the right ways to wind her up and push her in a way that you knew she wasn’t really angry with you, but pissed off enough to put you in your place. She’d always been one to keep you in line, even back when you’d first met her and her reputation wasn’t even close to what it was now.

Your mind drifted off to her completely, closing your eyes and remembering that day you had met her. It had been a good one. One that made it almost okay that you were living in a total shit hole.

The absolute annihilation of life as you’d known it did have some benefits you supposed. Yes. It was a shit hole. But if the world hadn’t fallen apart you’d never have even met Tess. And you had long ago decided that it’d be impossible to live life without her.

No one could eat pussy like her for a start.

The thought of that actually made a smirk tug at your lips and you found your stressed mind drifting again. You were quite certain you could get off just looking at her, in fact you knew you could. You’d done it before. Just watching. Imagining. You had every detail of her saved to memory. Every scar and mole, how her strong arms looked when she was hovering above you, how those long fingers felt when they curled inside of you…

Your hand slipped down your body and into your underwear, sighing dreamily as you began circling your clit with the image of her still flashing on the inside of your eyelids. You weren’t in any particular mood to drag it out, needing the sweet muscle easing release a orgasm would give you, so you sped up your movements. Also because Tess wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of you touching yourself without her. And who knew when she’d get home. You chewed on your bottom lip in some attempt to be quiet, but you always had been the more vocal one.

A moan slipped past your lips, your hips lifting up from the mattress slightly as you chased the sweet relief you so desperately wanted. Your mind supplied you with motivation, memories trickling down behind your closed eyes like your own personal peep show. The memories of how her lips felt against your skin, how her fingers felt.

You’d seen those hands do terrible things. Yet be incredibly gentle with you. It only served as more motivation for you, maybe it was knowing she could have anyone she wanted really. Yet she wanted you. Hands that had killed for you that could also have your brain floating and your bones turning to jelly.

You were completely consumed by the images in your head, the tightening of the knot in your belly as it built up and up and up. Not even really imagining anything particularly sexual, just the image of her was enough. She’d made you get off in front of her countless times, sometimes not even giving you vocal motivation. It wasn’t hard.

In fact you often wondered how anyone could possibly be in such a situation and not be able to just come on the spot by having her eyes on them. How did people walk around her every day and not have the raving urge to just jump her every second? Had they seen her? You were completely convinced there wasn’t a single person that could compete with her.

One hand came up to grab at your tit, squeezing and pinching at your nipple in the way she was always so obsessed with, squirming and moaning like you’d not been touched for weeks. When in reality it had only been a day. But you were obsessed. Addicted. And who were you to deny the beautiful woman that was so fixated on having her head between your thighs at any given moment?

You were too preoccupied to hear the door open right away, to hear Tess finally arriving home. In fact you weren’t entirely sure how long she’d been stood there when you opened your eyes, some odd feeling that you were being watched. Which you were.

Tess was stood leaning back against the door, arms folded over her chest and watching you intently. The room was a little too dark to see her totally clear, nightfall less than an hour away so the bright sunlight no longer served as the natural light in the room.

She didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t move. And you took that as motivation to keep going, squirming around under your own touch and watching her carefully. The only sound in the room that of your breathy moans and the lewd wet sound your fingers were making.

You weren’t above begging for her and you almost did, needing her to get you over that edge instead of yourself. But she seemed to be enjoying the view.

You let another moan tumble past your lips, fingers picking up speed as they attempted to find more friction on your slick cunt, desperate now to come with her watching you.

But she clearly had other ideas. Speaking and bringing you to a halt right as you were going to slip over the edge.

“ having fun? “ the sound of her voice alone drew another moan from deep in your chest, the way she spoke always so sultry and the slight twang her accent gave her words. It made heat pool in your belly every time. She finally stepped away from the door, tutting and shaking her head “ without me? “ she strode across the room in slow purposeful strides, like an animal hunting it’s prey, eyes not leaving you even once.

“ well you’ve been away haven’t you. What else was I supposed to do? “ you said, voice slightly breathless. She knelt a knee on the bed , slowly leaning down over you. You immediately noticed the state of her face. A busted lip. A black eye. She clearly noted the change in your face and placed a finger to your lips “ don’t “

“ Tess- “

“ I said. Don’t. We can talk about my face later “ you went to protest further, wanting to know who the fuck had laid a hand on her and grab a gun and take them out yourself. But the way she raised her eyebrow at you made you snap your mouth shut again “ thats a good girl “ her eyes trailed down over your body beneath her, slowly taking you in with a smirk on her face, her hand sliding over your waist “ missed me that much? “

“ where were you? “ she simply shrugged and dropped her head, trailing kisses across your jaw “ Tess- “

“ no questions “ she said and nipped a little harshly at your skin as if to prove the point she did not want to talk about it “ what were you thinking about? “ she asked, her hand beginning to wander more as she climbed fully onto the bed. Her touch so soft and gentle, hands that you had seen beat people to a bloody mess, yet so tender when it came to you. It made goosebumps rise in her fingers wake “ I asked you a question “

“ you “ you sighed, floating on the feeling of her fingers dancing over your skin.

“ keep talking “

“ just… just you. All I ever have to think about is you “ her fingers had hooked into the waistband of your underwear and it short circuited your brain “ god I need you so bad “

“ miss me that much? “ you nodded, your breath hitching as her hand moved back up, slipping around your back to unhook your bra “ maybe I should get locked up by FEDRA more often if this is the pretty sight I’ll come home to “ Her eyes dragged down your body in a way that wasn’t even remotely subtle, as she stripped you of your bra. She dropped it off the side of the bed, her tongue darting out lightly to wet her lips as she looked at you “ I missed you too “ she added, eyes focussed intently on the way your chest was still littered in fading purple bruises from the other day “ this won’t do “ she mumbled seemingly more to herself than you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion and she dropped her head, leaving wet, soft kisses to the fading marks. Her teeth nipping and nibbling at the skin to bruise you again, clearly not liking the fact that her evident mark of her ownership was fading away.

“ missed my tits more like “ you said with a breathy laugh, eyes fluttering closed as she nipped at the swell of your breast, leaving another deep purple mark in her wake and looking up at you as she captured a nipple in her mouth.

“ tomato tomahto “ she mumbled, preoccupied with rolling the nipple that wasn’t currently between her teeth, between her fingers. You arched into her, a hand slipping into her hair and twisting into the dark locks “ hands to yourself “ she said lowly, detaching herself from you with a mildly obscene, wet, popping sound. You whined at the loss of contact and she simply smiled at you “ you know the fuckin rules by now pretty girl “ you huffed in annoyance and it just made her smile more.

“ you’re mean “

“ and you’re disobedient “ to your dismay she got up from the bed, shivering slightly at the loss of her body heat “ can’t keep your hands to yourself” she said with a disappointed sigh, folding her arms across her chest “ do you ever do as your told, hmm? No “ You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched her as she rounded the bed, rummaging around in the side table. And your brain clicked onto what she was doing.

“ Tess- “

“ shh “ you watched her pull the pair of handcuffs from the back of the drawer, and place the key onto the side table by the lamp. She’d stolen them last year and you’d been more than willing to let her use them on you. But it had been a few months since the last time. Your brain went foggy just at the memory. How she’d tortured you for hours, edging you over and over again. And something told you that was exactly what she had in store for you again.

She walked back around to the end of the bed and beckoned you forward with her fingers. You complied immediately, crawling over to her and kneeling in front of where she stood. She tapped her fingers under your chin, making you look up at her.

“ I specifically remember telling you not to fuckin touch yourself without my permission. Do you know what happens to little brats that can’t keep their hands to themselves? Hmm? “ her voice was incredibly gentle, as was the hold she had on you, such a stark contrast to the words she was saying “ I thought you were better than this baby “

“ I’m sorry- I just- I was- “ you sighed, her eye contact too intense for you to form a full sentence. Tess pulled a face of mock pity and sighed deeply.

“ being a brat “ she finished your sentence for you and tutted in disappointment “ lay down “ you did as you were told without question, laying back and raising your hands in some attempt to get back in her good books, a picture perfect image of submission.

She smiled as she rounded the bed taking your hands gently in hers, circling your wrists with the cool metal of the cuffs. She looped them though the bars of the headboard, securing the other around your wrist and tugging gently.

“ too tight? “ she asked quietly.

“ no “

“ atta girl “ She was looking at you like she wanted to eat you alive, to completely and utterly devour you. A predator that finally had its prey stuck in a trap. It made you feel vulnerable, like you wanted to curl in on yourself and regret ever even thinking about touching yourself without her there “ are you gonna be good for me? “ her eyes trailed down your body, a smug smile on her face. You watched her as she stood at the foot of the bed again, you squirmed under her intense gaze. You knew she was going to drag this out, not in any kind of rush to touch you. She reached for the buttons of her shirt and you were in a trance, watching her fingers as she slowly undid her shirt“ I asked you a question “

“ I- I- “ your brain shut down at the sight of her there, how were you supposed to even think straight? Never mind form a full sentence when she was stood there stripping out of her clothes.

She stood there in her tank top and jeans, simply the sight of her strong arms alone making your mouth water. The way her nipples were peeking though the tight material from the cold, you were like a feral animal in heat. She raised an eyebrow , hands holding the bottom of her tank “ Tess I- fuck “

“ that’s not an answer “ She pulled the tank over her head and a whimper left your mouth at the sight. You pulled at the restraints, desperate to touch her, and it simply made her laugh. A low chuckle that was almost menacing. It made your cunt ache “ answer the fuckin question pretty girl “

“ yes I- fuck. Yes I’ll be good I’ll be so good please can I just- Tess “ your fingers were itching to grab at her, to kiss and lick every single inch of skin you could see. You’d drop to your knees and worship at her feet if that was what it took, you’d do anything just to be granted the honour.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away as she rid herself of her jeans too, joining you on the bed. Her hands ran over your legs before pushing them apart

“ Jesus fuck look at you “ she murmured, hands kneeding at the flesh of your thighs, your face flushed as she looked down at you. Awe in her eyes at the state you were in, the sticky mess covering your inner thighs “ you looked so pretty when I came in “ she said, dropping down and nipping at your inner thighs “ desperate to be fucked, like a bitch in fuckin heat “

“ I need you “ you whined, eyes still fixated on the woman between your legs. You didn’t know how all the terrible shit you’d done had granted you such a gift as being the one person Tess wanted, but Lord where you thankful for it.

“ of course you do, fuckin slut “ your back arched off the bed as the degrading name fell over you, mild embarrassment flushing your skin red at just how wet it made you when she said it “ don’t worry baby. I’m here now”

You choked on the whimper of her name as the flat of her tongue suddenly licked a long stripe up your cunt, eyes on you the entire time.

“ fuck- Tess “ you felt her smile against you, her hands pushing your legs up and out so she had as much access to you as possible. It was sudden and intense the way she practically devoured you, your already sensitive clit throbbing as her tongue flicked and circled the bundle of nerves with no mercy.

You tugged at your restraints for the millionth time, fingers itching to grab at her hair and keep her head there until you came on her tongue. You tried to clamp her head in place but she had a tight hold on your thighs.

“ stay still “ she murmured against you and you shook your head

“ cant. Feels so fuckin good “ she smirked, her thumb replacing her tongue circling your clit

“ I know baby, I know “ she lapped at your clenching hole like she was addicted, the wet sounds mixed with the noises she was drawing from your throat would’ve made you embarrassed if you weren’t so far gone already “ still waiting for you to tell me what you were thinking about baby “

“ you “ you gasped “ been thinking about you all fucking day. Don’t- don’t leave me that long again “ she huffed a laugh at that, detaching herself from you again which made you whine in annoyance.

“ I was only gone a day. You’re really that fuckin needy? You need this cunt fucked open every day huh? Is that what you need? “ you felt two of her fingers brush against your entrance and you waited with bated breath for her to finally fucking do it. You needed something more than the teasing of her tongue

“ yes. Yes. Please Tess “ her fingers slipped into you embarrassingly easy, wound up and ready for her for too long

“ you’re so wet holy shit. All for me “ you clenched around her fingers as she probed at the spot that made you see stars “ sound so pretty when you moan for me baby, let me hear you “ you brain was at a loss for words, completely and utterly consumed by the sensation of her tongue. Her fingers.

Her deft fingers were reaching all the right places, her tongue hot as it circled your clit in the most expert way. You’d never known someone who could eat pussy like her, like she would happily sit between your legs for days if she could. Never satisfied, never growing bored.

But also being incredibly fucking cruel.

Tess knew your body better than you did you were certain, knew every sound. Every movement. So it was no surprise that even with your restraint on not telling her you were so close to coming all over her tongue, she already knew. Recognised the way your cunt clamped down on her, the way your moans increased in pitch. And knew exactly when you were a mere second away from falling over the edge.

And that was the moment she was suddenly gone, fingers withdrawing and lips detaching from your clit. The sound you let out was pathetic, a desperate cry as she starved you of your orgasm for the second time.

“ oh I’m sorry, did you need to come? “ her voice was dripping in sarcasm, a mock sense of pity on her face as she sat back to look at you “ you really think I’d let you off that easy? “

You wanted to be mad, and maybe a small part of you actually was. But your brain was too foggy, you couldn’t see through the haze of the barrage of pleasure she was providing. Even if she wasn’t fully satisfying your needs. You felt drunk, lost in the feeling of your arousal swirling in your stomach, the sultry sound of her voice, the pressure of her fingers.

You turned your head, hiding in the sheets not looking at her in some hope it might make you forget all about how badly you wanted to come.

“ let’s take these off now shall we “ you kept your face buried in the damp bedsheets, listening as she moved around, gentle hands on your arms as she unlocked the cuffs around your wrists. You heard her drop them on the side table before her hands gently rubbed at your wrists, dropping light kisses to where the metal had undoubtedly left your skin raw “ you’re doing so good baby, taking your punishment so well “ you hummed an answer into the sheets, trying to ignore the way your cunt ached desperatelyto come.

You were like jelly as she manoeuvred you again, laying beside you and trailing a hand lightly up your side.

You were almost scared she was done for the night, happy to just leave you unfulfilled and go to sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time.

To your relief she didn’t.

She urged you to look at her and you whimpered at the sight, her lips and chin glistening with the evidence of you.

“ Tess- “ she took advantage of your parted lips and kissed you, tasting yourself on her tongue. It made your skin flush with heat, some primal instinct of possessiveness clawing it’s way to the front of your mind. Tess, your Tess. Tess that so many wanted, Tess that could have anyone she wanted. But Tess that was in bed with you. That tasted of you. That was devoting all of her attention to torturing you. You had to force yourself not to come just at the thought.

“ I don’t think you deserve it yet “ she said lowly, barely an inch from your face , fingers gently gripping your jaw “ do you? “ Yes. Yes yes yes

“ no “ the word reluctantly left your lips, desperate to please her.

“ that’s right “ her lips were on your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. You were going to look like you had a run in with a vampire tomorrow morning. But you knew she did it on purpose. Was obsessed with making sure people knew you were off limits. You were taken. You were hers. You were her toy to play with however she saw fit. You were not to be touched “ I think you can take a little more “

“ Tess “ you whined. She cooed pitifully, looking back at you again and brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“ you can take it. I know you can “ her hand trailed down your body, hand cupping your aching pussy lightly “ you’re being so good for me, I know you can last just a little bit longer for me. Cant you baby? You can keep going for me “ her fingers circled your entrance, gathering your slick on the pads of her fingers before withdrawing her hand again “ see? Look how wet you are. Look how needy “

You didn’t need to see the visual. You knew how wet you were, could feel the sticky mess you had made all over your thighs.

You whimpered as she slipped her fingers into her mouth, cleaning them of you with her eyes closed in bliss. It was filthy, so unbelievably erotic that it drew a moan from you, it tumbling past your lips before you could stop it. And it only made her smile. Her fingers dipped back down, bringing them back up glistening “ open your mouth “ you did as you were told, letting her slip her fingers into the warmth.

You didn’t need to be told you knew what she wanted. Your lips wrapped around her fingers, sucking her fingers clean, tongue sipping between the digits and swirling around them to ensure you got every drop “ good fucking girl “ she breathed out, watching you with an intense look of awe in her eyes “ wish you could see how you look right now “ you wrapped your fingers around her wrist, keeping her hand in place, sloppily sucking on her fingers in the most obscene way.

She was bewitched. Fixated on you as you behaved so depraved for her.

“ so pretty like this, nothing on your mind but me “ you nodded, too far gone to be even embarrassed now. She consumed you completely “ I want you like this all the time “ she murmured, head dropping and leaving open mouthed kisses across your neck “ dumb little slut, just thinking about me. Only me “ you nodded again “ say it”

“ Only you “ you whispered, her fingers leaving your mouth with a string of drool still attached to your lips

“ you’re mine. My perfect little toy huh?” You keened at her words, squeezing your thighs together for some kind of relief “ ah ah. Open “ she tapped your thigh and you reluctantly spread your legs for her again “ you’re doing so good don’t fuck it up now baby. In fact I think you deserve a reward dont you? “ you nodded rapidly, in some hopes you’d caught her having a suddenly forgiving streak.

Stupid.

“keep your legs nice and open for me baby... Good girl you got it “ her fingers swirled around your dripping entrance for a moment before plunging two fingers back in, right to the knuckle, the spot she had been abusing all night back under fire.

The sound that left your throat was animalistic. Desperation for some kind of relief and finally being mildly satiated again, clamping down on her fingers as they curled up over and over. She cooed a string of praise into your ear as she set herself at a steady pace, your moans high pitched and breathy as they tumbled from your mouth without a care.

You used to be shy about the amount of noise you made, but Tess adored it. Loved nothing more than hearing what she did to you or getting pleasure from forcing you to be quiet and watching you fail every single time.

“ do you know how fucking perfect you look right now? Fucking Christ“ you couldn’t process her words, your brain was mush. No longer yours. You were simply a puppet and Tess was pulling the strings, had every single ounce of control over you. And you loved it. She was bringing you to the edge again, your moans increasing in pitch and intensity with every curl of her fingers.

“ someone needs to quiet down a little bit “ she said before placing a hand over your mouth, eyes locked onto yours as she carefully added a third finger. You might as well have screamed into her hand, the moan that left you so loud, so indecent , that it could probably be heard on the other side of the zone. The stretch was intense, your muscles aching and clamping tightly around the intrusion of her fingers. She let you adjust for a moment and then was back to abusing that spot inside of you “ that’s my girl. You can take it. Take it for me “

Tears were prickling at your eyes, the entire situation boarding on becoming too intense.

“ eyes on me, look at me “ she tilted your face to look at her, holding your gaze intensely “ atta girl “ you whimpered quite pathetically as she curled her fingers up, hitting the same spot over and over in a torturous pace. The tears finally fell, rolling along your cheeks in a steady stream, so unbelievably desperate for her to just let you fucking come. How long had you both been at this? How long had she been bringing you to edge and then shoving you backwards again? Minutes? Hours?

you whined into her hand, not sure how much longer you could keep it up.

“ you’re doing so well “ you flushed at the praise, arching into her touch so the heel of her hand brushed against your sensitive clit “ you need to come don’t you? “ you nodded, burying your face in her neck, nails digging into her shoulder “ you want to come for me baby? “ she kissed away your tears in a way so tender, so different from the way she was brutally abusing your cunt still.

You nodded your head, starting to lose the energy to keep fighting it off any longer now.

“ tell me. Tell me how much you want it” she removed the hand covering your mouth, her eyes locked intensely on yours

“ need to come so bad. Please Tess. Please I can’t- cant do anymore- please. Please “

“ you sound so fuckin pretty when you beg for me “ she mused, her hand stalling for a moment as she gently pressed her thumb against your clit “ keep begging “ You rambled out a mostly incoherent attempt at begging, so unbelievably pathetic but you were way past caring now. She gently grabbed your hand and moved it down “ do you feel that? Feel how wet you are? Hmm? “

You didn’t need to touch, you knew. Could feel how damp the sheets were underneath you, could feel the way you were dripping all over yourself “ show me how much you want it “ you didn’t need telling twice, your fingers searching for friction against your slick clit as her fingers resumed their previous assault “ slower… slow. That’s it. We don’t want this over too quickly do we?”

You almost laughed. Quickly was not the word you’d have used. Not when she’d been denying you for so long now.

“ when I say, I want you to come. Do you understand me? “ you nodded your head, a fresh stream of tears leaving your eyes “ words baby. Let me hear your words “

“ yes “ you whispered, sobbing out another moan as she sped up her pace and you rubbed gentle circles into your clit like she’d told you to. The sopping sounds were obscene, you didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life.

To your relief she didn’t torture you for much longer and the words you wanted to hear finally left her lips.

“ come for me “ it was intense. Your entire body felt like it had been set alight, your orgasm smashing into you so suddenly and viciously. You were certain you were going to draw blood from how hard you were gripping at her arm, your head thrown back into the pillows and practically screaming as the thick tension that had been surrounding you all night finally shattered.

She talked you though it the entire time, fingers still working at you to make sure it lasted as long as humanly possible. Only stopping when you weakly pushed her hand away from you, over sensitive and spent. You felt like you were floating, melting into your bed with bones made of jelly.

“ Jesus fuckin Christ Tess! “ you startled from the post orgasm bliss too quickly for your liking, as Joel’s voice sounded through the wall, followed by a heavy bang of his fist. You both looked at each other before you burst into a breathless laughter, Tess looking at you with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen and placing a finger to your lips in some attempt to quiet you again. Even though she was laughing too.

“ I don’t know why he’s fucking yelling at me you’re the one being loud “ she peppered kisses across your face and you tried to clear the fog from your brain quite unsuccessfully.

“ holy shit Tess “ you whispered “ I- I- shit “ words failed you, brain still swimming in a puddle of bliss. She quietly dismissed herself with a kiss to your cheek and you whimpered at the loss of her next to you.

“ I’ll be right back you’re okay “ her voice had shifted to that sweet, gentle, caring tone only you got to hear. You stretched out your aching muscles, vaguely focussing on the sound of the tap turning on in the kitchen, before she returned to you.

She cleaned you up with gentle hands, whispering praise to you as she did. When she deemed you clean enough she shifted to lay behind you, some muttered excuse that she’d deal with the sheets in the morning. Her arms wrapping around you, the presence of her pressed against your back comforting. Familiar. Safe.

You could feel her warm breaths against your cheek, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion as she held you, your eyes already drifting closed.

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou hbo #smut #x you #x reader #lesbian #lgbt #tlou tess #other characters for exposure:#Joel miller #Ellie Williams #the last of us fanfic

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emilykaldwen · 2 months ago

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Characters Ideas vs Putting them into Practice.

Abby's crying in this chapter.

I haven't written in over a month. I started a new job, then got really sick back to back. Honestly, I needed the break. I launched back into the chapter over the weekend (it's done, by the way, and heading off to @vampire-exgirlfriend so I stop touching it and judging myself) but I got to thinking as I worked on this.

Abby is meant to be sunshine, but this whole story she's been dealing with anxiety and now her tears. And there was a time where I'd be freaking out more about this. I'd be going

Oh my god I've fucked up my character, I've let too much angst in!

Oh my god I've fucked up my character, I'm letting something personal into the character that is ruining them!

And you know what? At one point of time, that would have been true, and I think it's a place where a lot of writers struggle and run into this confusing blocks.

A character idea never survives first contact with the plot.

And by that I mean: you can have all the best laid plans, but suddenly you're halfway through a chapter and Gwayne is asking Alicent 'Do you even want Aegon to be king' and you have to pause in the middle of the cafe and go:

Holy shit does she even want him to be king or does she need to do it for a whole bunch of reasons why is she crying and screaming at her brother when did this happen??

That's what it means to let the characters drive the story. Yes, you have the plot. Yes! You have plans and a journey, but sometimes the characters say 'turn left' instead of staying straight on. It'll get you there in the end, but the experiences will be different than expected.

I think this is where a lot of writers run into writers block because they're trying to force a character into a situation that no longer works for that character.

So Abby and the tears. Abby is and always has been intended to be a rock. She's the sunshine to the dour Targtowers. She's optimistic and hopeful. And those things are still true, but I realize now that this point in her story that we meet her in, she's like Riley in Inside Out 2. She has years of bottled up grief and sorrow and anger that has been put into this pressure pot in the back of her mind and coming back to her home to celebrate her wedding where her parents and her oldest brother are dead are going to release that pressure. And I was fighting it. I was going wtf Abby why are we crying here we're supposed to be giggly and happy.

But this is part of the journey that she's on in this story and I have to let it happen.

But then I look at a much younger me, who was going through a lot of shit, who wasn't in therapy yet, had a lot of untended to trauma, and I realized that when my characters had gone down similar paths, it was because I was actively trying to work through that stuff for myself through the character. Where I as a person was desperately seeking comfort and reassurance and was trying to obtain that through my characters. Which leads to... characters who face strife for the sole reason to be rescued and comforted and protected.

Now, these aren't bad things of course, and I'm talking more in a general story sense, not specifically fic (which at it's heart is wish fulfillment and fun and not judgy). We all see love and comfort and reassurance and want to give that to those characters. I mean there's a reason genres of stories that deal with this sorta thing are so so popular.

But something I had to learn as a writer was separating myself from that emotion and my character.

My character, Charli, was an orphan. Unloved and being used. She was fate's punching bag, beaten down over and over again, and everyone around her had to step in and take care of her, because I desperately wanted this to happen in my own life. But the thing was, I was pouring so much of my processing into that, that the moment someone criticized Charli's character, I felt so personally attacked because Charli was me. Because Charli was me at my most vulnerable and open and desperate for acceptance.

Charli is still a great character, but she was created as a manifestation of what I needed to work through at the time and what I was seeking.

So.

Abby is crying again but she's not crying because I feel alone in the world or lost or my repressed emotions and anxiety are getting the best of me. Abby's crying because she's finally being confronted with her grief in the haunted house that's been calling for her to come back for years. Of course she's crying.

So Charli was fine being where she was... but Charli also needed to grow and find resilience. That's part of the character journey.

And that's why we read.

#oc: abrogail strong #writing #character creation

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links-hella-fine-booty · 11 months ago

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2023

Holy shit. This year had to have been the most eventful year of my life and that's saying something.

Beginning of last year, Gavin and I were struggling to do whatever we could to find an apartment. Well, come February, we did. We finally were able to cross the biggest gap in our lives and relationship. I packed my stuff and suddenly, I was with him and living in Texas. My 28th birthday came and I got to spend it with friends. I haven't spent a birthday with a friend in so long. It felt wonderful to have people that wanted to be around me.

April came around and another one of my biggest dreams came true. I finally got my first puppy. Bliz has been a name for a dog I wanted for years and now he's my precious baby. I love my dog so much. He might be a little special needs as I've come to discover, but he's perfect and I know that fate brought my Bliz and I together. AND along with April, I got my beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, cunty, stunning, sweet, passionate, loving new pookie Niran. He literally brought me back to Overewatch single handedly and I love him. Fell for that man harder than any other fictional man ever. I want him carnally fr.

May was lovely and just as exciting. Not only did we once again have a wonderful time with friends for Gavin's birthday, but we got a new baby as well. Toast and Bliz actually got along and she was our kitten. Sly little thing she is, but I can't imagine life without her. Never was a cat person but I suppose she really changed me. I love my fatass little cat.

June was, hard. While being so excited to see Mexico for the first time ever in the following month, my dad ended up in the hospital. Just after Father's day. Quite possibly the scariest thing my family has ever had to go through. Weeks of nothing but worry and stress. He pulled through, but he will never be how he used to be. He's mostly in a wheelchair and can no longer walk on his own. I miss my father. I miss him so much. I took for granted all the times we went to the grocery store and taking him to the bank. I know everyone says it, but do not take time for granted. It really can be gone in an instant. I am happy to say my dad is okay. Him making it to his 81st birthday and to the New Year, means everything. I want nothing but comfort for him this upcoming year, and for my mom and sister to take it easy too. We all love him.

July, was wonderful. I got to go to Mexico with Gavin's family. They showed me nothing but kindness and caring the whole time. Mexico was beautiful and I want to go back. I have to get my passport updated but hey I will. After Mexico, it was back home to NJ. Being back home felt so right and I wish Gavin and I could move over there, but it's not in the cards right now. But! I enjoyed a great time seeing my dad and going to the Jersey Shore. Time with my mom, sister, and dad pretty much recharged me. Stayed about two weeks longer than intended but I know in the long run I needed that.

August. God. August. It started out great. We were back home and Gavin was ready for his appointment to start T. Both of us were so happy that he could finally start his journey. We went, he got it, life felt so good. However, it seemed like Gavin and I couldn't catch a break and life decided, "yeah, throw them in a car accident." Gavin's car was towed and we were in horrible pain. My stomach was so bruised I couldn't bend down and Gavin could barely use his hands. A whole week of stress and anxiety over what to do now that we didn't have a car. Thankfully his parents were once again, so kind, caring, and understanding that we were able to get a new car. His name is Ramram and he's kept us safe which is all we could ask for.

September wasn't so bad other than learning two of our friends, weren't the people we thought they were. October was pretty okay which was nice. Throughout these months it was mostly financial stress which we still have but the hell am I supposed to do about it at this point.

November. I usually hate November. Halloween is gone and done and I don't really care too much about Thanksgiving. But I suppose Gavin changed that. After weeks of severe depression and anxiety, crying every day, it all stopped. He proposed. He had gotten me the most beautiful ring. Goth and elegant. With one question, everything melted away and I haven't cried a sorrow tear since.

Now that it's December, I realize just how many things happened and how things still are happening. My family and family's friends accept my engagement and are excited for me. They are happy. I'm planning a wedding. I made it far enough in life that I am getting married. I'm getting married next October. I'm still tearing up as I write this because 19 year old Lauren didn't think she'd make it to 20, let alone 27. I'm getting married. It's incredible. Other than being in a dream like state from that, of course I had to get a whole ass addiction to Baulder's Gate 3. Perhaps it's not the traditional dnd experience but I can't say I don't love it. I now get to have some fictional men be here without me needing them. I get to have Astarion and Halsin and Gale at my happiest. That's, so different than all of the ones before them, Niran included. It almost doesn't feel real.

2023 was something else. 2024 is going to be wonderful. I am soon going back to NJ to plan where to have our wedding. Gavin and I will have our first anniversary and Valentine's day together too! I get to go back to NJ a few more times for wedding plans and vacation and then the wedding. My biggest hope for 2024, is that Gavin and I can start a process to start my dream.

I want to be a mother. I wanted to be a mother since as long as I can remember. If I can just start this journey into being a mother, everything up until that point will have been worth it. Every moment of stress, pain, tears, and more. I hope sometime next year I can make a post saying we've succeeded. I know the process won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

Happy New Year everyone. I made it through this year. I can make it through next year, and you can too.

#cia mode activated #teared up like 4 times writing all this #long post

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iamanartichoke · 3 years ago

Note

Another totally unprompted ask, on the assumption that you are definitely no longer in need of them… another thing I’m trying to work out about Loki characterisation in preparation for perpetrating fic torture on him is how suicidal the poor sod is most of the time. This is another thing I’ve seen referred to a lot but only in passing. Though obviously this is a pretty triggery topic, so ignore if you want.

I am always in need of totally unprompted asks, otherwise I just assume no one wants to talk to me lmao

So, hoo boy. I have been mulling over this for, apparently, three days now bc there's just ... there's a lot to unpack here. Putting under a cut for obviously triggery content and also for length bc fml.

In my opinion, the response to "how suicidal is Loki most of the time" is "very, but whether or not he wants to do anything about it varies from moment to moment" (see what I did there? I'll see myself out). In other words, I have always had a headcanon that Loki is consistently, passively suicidal. This is a headcanon that comes straight from TDW, bc I'm certain that Loki never had any intention of surviving their mission. And that could be a whole other post, really, but the point is that even though this is a TDW-centric headcanon, I have come to adopt it as applying to Loki in general as well, not just in those specific circumstances.

When I say passively suicidal, I mean that Loki is just sort of ambivalent about the value of his own life. He feels like he doesn't deserve to be alive, and feels like there's little point in being alive. Which - I don't mean to sound all gloom and doom, like, poor uwu emo Loki (and I kinda hate that I have to pause to disclaim that, no, I don't just have a fixation on Loki being depressed for funsies/the aesthetic/whatever); I think that this mindset stems from really complicated places that I'm not sure I can articulate, but I will try.

I view Loki as someone who suffers from a severe inferiority complex, and I feel like it stems from being abandoned as an infant. Loki's life started with a traumatic event and, even if he doesn't remember the event itself, the feelings he experienced stayed in his subconscious. Feelings of loss, of fear, of despair and abandonment, of suffering - these are all feelings that burrowed into his bones and lived there for his entire life, feelings that colored how Loki viewed himself as a person as well as how he compared to the people around him.

Keep in mind that Loki didn't know he was abandoned until the events of Thor 1, obviously. We don't really know how old Loki is, in human years, but I have always assumed that he and Thor were at least adults (not teenagers), maybe the equivalent of early twenties - and the reason I bring that up is because it means Loki made it all the way to adulthood carrying the weight of a trauma that he did not remember or even knew had happened, so to him, there was no real reason for how wrong he felt. There was no explanation for the feelings of loss, of neglect, of fear. So on top of struggling with those feelings, Loki was also burdened with the alienation that comes with wondering why one can't just be like everyone else, why one can't just "snap out" of depression, why one's sense of self-worth has always been lacking.

So imagine what it's like to grow up as Loki. He was traumatized as an infant. The trauma has been with him his entire life, along with the confusion/alienation of not understanding why he feels the way that he does, and then on top of that, his basic personality lends itself toward introspection and isolation, so he likely felt even further removed from Thor and from his peers. Loki's too smart for his own good, and he's got an enormous capacity to feel and I feel like this is a combination that works against him as much as it does for him, bc it probably means he spent a lot of time examining himself and identifying all of his perceived flaws - and then berating himself for said flaws.

People with depression are probably pretty familiar with the bully that lives in your head, the one who is always there to remind you that you're stupid, or ugly, or that nobody likes you, or that you have nothing of value to contribute to anyone, etc. Loki's no different; he's got that bully in his head, too. Add onto this the fact that his brother is literally perfect, that he feels his father doesn't love him (or love him as much), that his interests in things like magic are looked down on in his culture, and that he's a prince (meaning that along with the privilege comes pressure, and being in the public eye, knowing that everyone around him is comparing him to Thor as much as he compares himself to Thor, well.) and you have a total clusterfuck of a mindset, and Loki's been existing inside of that clusterfuck for nearly all of his life.

I always go back to the quote where, when filming I think the vault scene, Kenneth Branagh directs Tom by saying, "This is the moment where the thin steel rod holding your brain together snaps." And it's such a significant moment for Loki bc this is where it all crumbles for him, learning the truth, but I also fixate on the "thin steel rod" part of the quote bc that's not how one would describe a healthy, stable person's mind. The implication, to me, has always been that Loki wasn't that stable to start with due to his general upbringing, his internal struggles, and his personality, so of course the devastation of learning he's adopted, and Jotun, would send him over the edge. One doesn't go from zero to 60; one doesn't fall over the edge unless they were balancing fairly close to it in the first place. And to me, the "thin steel rod" basically equals the aforementioned clusterfuck of a mindset.

THE POINT IS. (Holy shit, I ramble.) This is the foundation on which I'm basing my headcanon that Loki neither values his life nor feels as if he even deserves to live it - bc his default mindset is one of inferiority, of loss, of pain. And I think that going from being a general unstable person pre-canon to being passively suicidal post-canon is a thing that happened because, somewhere between the vault in Thor 1 and the dungeons in TDW, Loki just stopped caring.

Life is exhausting for everyone, but even moreso when your mental load becomes more than you can carry. Loki is exhausted. His experience is that things just keep getting worse and worse for him - he's never been valued, he's always been found wanting. He discovers that he was literally thrown away as an infant, unwanted and left to die, and things haven't gotten much better for him since then. Everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. His plans spin out of control. He's unable to prove his worth and his value and when he is, in fact, rejected, he literally tries to kill himself (only to survive and end up in an even worse situation).

It all just continually goes downhill, and Loki is fucking exhausted. He's done. He has no hope that anything is ever going to change - he will never be valued or even seen, he's unable to connect to anyone, he has no family (aside from Thor, but their relationship is so fraught with pain). As far as he's concerned, his life has been nothing but a waste since he was born and if no one else values it, why should he?

So - passively suicidal. He places no value on his life, and doesn't shy away from situations that could cost him his life. It's possible that the only reason he's not actively suicidal is bc his previous attempt not only failed but led to such a horrible situation that he's probably too afraid to intentionally seek out death again. He doesn't want to fail and end up worse off for it.

And - not that you asked this in particular, but - my biggest disappointment in the series is that none of what I've just written is addressed in a satisfying way (to me). That is, we don't get any real explicit acknowledgement of the trauma of Loki's abandonment as a baby or how that affected his mental health growing up; we don't get to explore how devastated he was to learn of his adoption; we don't ever see him reconcile his ingrained belief that jotuns are monstrous savages with the fact that he is jotun. He says "I betrayed everyone I loved, but I'm different now" and we're supposed to infer what he means without Loki actually articulating why he feels that he's the only one who should be held responsible for all these things that had happened or what "I've changed" even means to him (aside from not betraying Sylvie).

I would have liked to see these things addressed for a lot of reasons, but one of those reasons is that I would want to see how Loki comes to terms with all of his issues and his pain enough that he stops being passively suicidal. We never get to see that; after TDW, the time that passes allows for Loki to kinda chill, resulting in the Ragnarok version, but if there was any real healing or recovering going on, it was happening off-screen, with the audience expected to just go with "yeah Loki was going through it for awhile but he's kinda better now."

Furthermore, much of what I've written here is based on prime Loki's development through TDW, but doesn't account for series Loki's split from that timeline nor the theme of "Lokis survive" that's so prevalent in the series. So I don't think the "passively suicidal" headcanon is really appropriate for series Loki but, at the same time, I'd like to have seen why. I'd like to have seen Loki learning to value his life, or where the "we survive" mindset comes from, since that's not really been a thing before now. (Out of universe, I suspect it comes from the context of Loki just not dying whenever he tries to, but since TDW and IW haven't happened, and Loki didn't intend to survive his fall from the bifrost, framing Loki as an innate survivor doesn't really make sense, but to be fair, I'm just being picky.)

So, yeah. I'm not saying Loki doesn't experience growth or development in the series, I'm just saying that his arc left much unsaid and, furthermore, framing his growth as "wanting a throne to not wanting a throne" without addressing that Loki doesn't actually want the power of the throne, he wants the value and self-worth he associates with the throne, is - well, again, unsatisfying. Not bad, but it leaves viewers like me wanting bc we're cognizant of how much more could have been done.

I ... am going to end this now. This is probably nonsensical and all over the place, so I'm very sorry, and I'm sure this is why I don't get meta-starter asks lmfao bc no one's out here trying to read my dissertation submission for a Ph.D in Loki, but well, sometimes it just be like that.

Thank you for the ask and the opportunity to ramble.

#asks #charlotte replies #loki pokey artichokey #loki series #loki series criticism #loki meta #tw suicidal ideation #tw suicide attempt #tw suicide #tw mental health #tw depression #i spent two fucking hours on this yet i still feel like it's rambly nonsense #i hit stream-of-consciousness at some point and just went with it #and now i'm too lazy to revise #so i'm sorry #this'll probably only get like 10 notes anyway bc that's how it be on tumblr #put effort in and get little validation; put no effort in and everyone loses their minds

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itsallavengers · 7 years ago

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Inspired by @nonbinarytonystark‘s prompt- Tony likes to wear Steve’s clothes

It was a thing.

It didn’t mean anything, per se... Steve’s sweaters were just cozy, okay? And his sweatpants were soft and his tshirts were baggy and they all smelt like something undeniably Steve-

Yeah. Anyway. Like Tony said. It was a thing.

To be honest, he hadn’t even expected anyone to notice, really- they were just a few clothes, after all. Nothing special. The team used his stuff all the time- what made this different? Nothing, that was what. It wasn’t like Tony... hoarded it, or anything. And he certainly didn’t steal Steve’s jumpers after bad nights in order to calm him down. That would just be stupid.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

In fact, if he hadn’t come down one time, half asleep and wearing literally none of his own clothes, everyone probably would have just let it slide. Tony honestly hadn’t done it intentionally- he was just tired and a little shaken from the lovely morning nightmare that had served as his wakeup call, and Steve’s clothes were soft and big and smelt really nice.

It was calming. It was... home.

So Tony had slid them on without a second thought and then trundled downstairs, pretty much still asleep. Mornings, especially early ones like this one, were most definitely not his forte.

Except... turns out that superspies were observant. Who’d have thought?

Anyway, they noticed it immediately. Natasha just raised an eyebrow, but Clint was an asshole, so Clint wolf-whistled and jostled Steve’s shoulder, making him turn from where he was busily preparing his breakfast in order to look in their direction. Tony, still pretty much sleepwalking at that point, just tried to zoom in on the coffee and direct his body toward it. He doesn’t notice everyone staring, or Steve’s progressively reddening cheeks.

“Nice look, Tony,” Natasha says quietly, eyes still on the morning paper.

“Fuck yourself,” he says cheerily, and barely even winces when the spoon flies an inch away from his nose in response. He’s grown used to it.

Clint makes a move, ruffling his hair and then cooing, despite Tony’s grumble of protest. He would normally just punch him, but did he mention how tired he was? Really fucking tired.

“Don’t you just want to fucking bundle him up when he’s like this? How do you resist, Steve?” Clint asks, and Tony glares at him and turns to Steve, ready to hear a witty quip in reply, but the other man is just spluttering a little incoherently, eyes still fixed on the pale blue button-down that’s pretty much slipping right off Tony’s shoulders.

His face falls a little, because shit, Steve’s noticed. And now they’re probably going to have a long and awkward conversation about boundaries, where Steve tells him he needs to stop wearing his clothes, which will suck, because Tony loves Steve’s clothes-

He’s so caught up in his own head that he forgets to watch where his feet are going, and they catch on the overhanging material that hangs over his toes whenever he wears Steve’s sweatpants, and then he’s off, falling face first, destination: corner of the fucking tabletop.

Great way to start the day.

He braces for impact, a little yelp escaping his lips as he jerks his hands up on instinct- but impact doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a sudden tight pressure on his waist, and he realizes it’s an arm that’s just managed to snag him before he brains himself. Which is nice. Definitely helpful.

Steve is stood there, a little awkwardly, arm simply outstretched and holding Tony’s entire body-weight like it’s nothing, which is probably not something he needs to be thinking about when wearing thin sweatpants-

“Where are your glasses, Tony?” Steve says, fond exasperation evident in his voice as he pulls Tony upright again and then softly places a hand against his jaw, checking to see that all braining incidents had been 100% avoided.

Tony scowls, and shrugs. “Left them out somewhere- but I don’t need them to see my own two feet, Steve, only reason I fell was because your pants are-”

He’s about to say stupidly big, before realizing that, being the insanely clever person he is, he just managed to expose himself and his clothe-stealing ways right in front of the man himself.

Amazing. He was on a god damn roll this morning. God- he wished he’d just knocked himself out on the tabletop.

But rather than frowning and pulling him up on it, Steve just blushes a little bit deeper, and Tony watches his eyes flicker down very briefly, before dragging themselves back up immediately and only making the blush go even darker, and at this rate Steve is going to be a motherfucking tomato, or his cheeks are going to burst open from too much blood rushing around in them.

“They suit you,” Steve says quietly,and Tony has to question whether or not he’s even conscious at this point, because that was definitely a lip bite, and Steve’s eyes keep flickering down toward Tony’s exposed collarbone like there’s a god damn magnet attached to the thing-

“Wait,” Tony blurted suddenly, squinting a little and hoping that his eyesight really isn’t failing him enough to imagine that, “do you...no way-do you like that?”

Steve laughed, and this time it was a lick of the lips, which was honestly just unfair at this time of day. “Uhhh-”

“he means he likes you wearing his clothes, but he’d prefer them back on his bedroom floor,” Bruce piped up, which was surprising, because everyone had assumed he’d just been napping on the tabletop.

Steve frowned. “Can you maybe let me flirt on my own, guys?”

“Hey, you chose to do this in the communal room, your fault,” Clint said, before waving them away, “now shoo- go have your way with him or whatever, Steve- I don’t want to see any more of this here, I’m eating my cereal.”

Tony looked at Steve, still trying to actually conceive what was happening here. Steve just looked at him, waiting for a sign of confirmation, and when Tony gave a confused nod of his head, Steve wasted absolutely no time in sweeping him directly off his feet and into an effortless bridal carry, beginning to maneuver them both out of the communal room at a brisk pace.

Tony blinked, hands wrapping around Steve’s neck instinctively, feeling more than a little blissed out when all Steve’s warmth and softness and smell that he usually leeched off his clothes was suddenly pressed up directly against him.

“Bye,” was all Steve called out, before sliding out into the corridor and immediately pressing Tony against the wall, mouth meeting Tony’s possessively, greedily.

“You really like the clothes, huh,” Tony whispered in amazement, in between kisses.

He was kissing Steve he was kissing Steve he was kissing Steve he was kissing St-

Steve smiled, hands wandering underneath the button down and slipping around his waist. “Every time, every damn time you’d come down wearing something of mine, I wanted to do this. I thought you were doing it on purpose- you had to be. There couldn’t have been any other reason you hadn’t noticed how I reacted to it.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, biting down on a groan between breaths, but Steve kissed him again, picking him up once more, this time by the ass, and then waiting for Tony to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist before moving them forward. “I might make you keep the shirt on, though. It looks good. Real good.My clothes always look good on you”

Tony grinned, “possessive streak, have we, Rogers?”

“You have no idea,”

“I feel like I’m about to find out, though.”

Steve smiled, smug and dirty as he kissed Tony’s neck, whispering “damn fuckin’ straight.”

Okay. So maybe the morning was looking up, after all.

#this ended up longer than I intended holy shit it was supposed to be like. a paragraph #whoops u just hit on my deepest weakness #tony stark #stevetony #steve rogers #itsallavengers writes

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existslikepristin · 3 years ago

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A Two-on-One Match

Part 2 of 3 of the OC Jung Hyunjin's arc. A request from Rex [of the ever-changing name] I recommend starting with A Quick Fix to follow the plot if you haven't read it already.

Tags: TheLounge, Gfriend, Eunha, SinB, male OC Jung Hyunjin, "oh hey I know you", one dom one sub one clueless boxer, some butt stuff, request

~~~~~

The bell rang to announce Yuta’s departure. He turned back as he walked through the door and waved. “Thanks Hyunjin! Good to meet you!”

“You too man! Enjoy!” Hyunjin waved back. It was his second week working at The Lounge and he was getting to know quite the wide range of people, and the first day he was working the morning shift, now that he was fully finished with his evening training.

A familiar voice came from behind, just at the entrance to the kitchen. “Nice catch. How’d you know Yuta would like the cinnamon sprinkle?” It was Hyunjin’s new boss, Kim Soomin.

“Wish I could tell you Ms. Kim. Honestly I just guessed.”

Soomin shrugged. “We’ll chalk it up to intuition then. Anyway, it seems like you’ve got things handled up here. I’m going to start up the oven for some brownies. Sungho is going to be here in half an hour, but I’ll be right there if you get rushed, alright?”

“You got it, Ms. Kim.”

Hyunjin wasn’t especially worried, since he didn’t imagine they’d be getting that many more customers in so early in the morning. When Soomin was gone, he leaned back against the perfectly clean counter and pulled out his phone.

Sowon had told him she was an idol, but he still hadn’t bothered to look up her music. It seemed to him that while he was waiting for customers was as good a time as any. He opened up his default browser and tapped in her name. A second later, his phone was flooded with pictures of Sowon in a variety of outfits, generally much fancier than what he usually saw her in. In the sidebar, her real name appeared, as well as the company she worked for and the group she was part of. “Gfriend,” rung a bell in Hyunjin’s head, at least, though he had no clue if he’d actually heard any of their music before. Maybe at a convenient store while he wasn’t paying attention?

He tapped the link to change the search to Gfriend. The images that showed up were far more zoomed out than before. He could pick out Sowon’s face among the six women in each picture, but immediately scrolled down and saw their names. He nodded his head and kept going down the list. Jung Yerin was next. No clue who she was. Then Jung Eunbi, also known as Eunha. That name sounded somehow familiar to him, but he continued to read. Choi Yuna, also known as Yuju…

He was interrupted by the bell ringing. He bounced away from the counter and popped his phone back into his pocket. Looking up, he saw two women had entered. One of them took off to the side toward the lounge chairs right away, but the other one approached the counter. She walked normally at first, but slowed down when she and Hyunjin’s eyes met.

“H-hyunjin?” she asked.

Hyunjin hesitated to respond. He pulled his phone back out and looked at the images still on the screen. “Do you go by Eunha?”

Eunha nodded slowly. “Yeah… Were you in drama club in middle school?”

“I was.”

There was a long pause.

“Holy shit, Hyunjin! It’s been such a long time! When did you start working here?”

Hyunjin laughed. He knew the name was familiar. “Just a couple of weeks ago. I got referred by Sowon.”

Eunha laughed back. “She and I are in a girl group together!”

“I literally just found that out! I was looking you guys up! See?” Hyunjin held out his phone.

“Woah! Yeah! How are you doing these days?”

The two took some time to reminisce and catch up. Despite the initial moment of not recognizing each other, they quickly remembered their connection. They had grown up in the same neighborhood, and recalled a variety of events they had gone to together as children. Eunha was a year above him in school, but had encouraged him to participate in drama. The Lounge continued to stay effectively empty the whole time. Hyunjin told Eunha about how he and Sowon met and how he ended up there, and about how he was training again to fight. Eunha told him about the rest of Gfriend, and how the other woman she entered with was Umji.

To avoid making Umji wait too much longer, Hyunjin took Eunha’s order and got to work. He was all smiles. When he brought their coffee to them, he included a napkin with his phone number on it and invited Eunha to the fight, but couldn’t continue to chat with the other customers that began to pour in, the bell going wild.

* * *

The bell went wild. It was the end of the last round. Hyunjin wiped at his nose with his arm. His opponent backed off and the two bumped their gloves together. Hyunjin wasn’t especially happy with the turnout. It had been far too long since he’d stepped in a ring, and it showed. That wasn’t going to stop him from being a good sport though. He kept a smile on.

Fortunately, the referee still held his arm up in the end. “... by split decision: Jung Hyunjin!”

The crowd cheered. Whether it was for Hyunjin or not, he couldn’t really tell. The crowd wasn’t exactly huge, and the two fighters nobody had heard of (it was only his opponent’s second official match) in a small venue didn’t exactly have a fanbase yet. Hyunjin couldn’t pick any familiar faces out of the crowd either.

His disappointment was quickly abated by who he saw while making his way to the locker room. Dressed in frumpy, nondescript sweatshirts and hats, Eunha and another girl Hyunjin barely recognized from Gfriend’s group pictures as SinB caught him right at the doorway.

“Hey! We were hiding out in the back row. Congrats!”

Hyunjin ran his fingers through his hair. “Thanks. I was rusty though.”

“Rusty? What do you mean? You were great!”

SinB tapped Eunha on the arm. “No, he’s right. They both looked like amateurs.”

Hyunjin grimaced, but before he could say anything, Eunha grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, let’s go in there, where it’s not so noisy! I can barely hear you two!”

She wasn’t wrong. When the door closed behind them, the lack of noise was a relief.

“So yeah,” SinB started, “what I was saying is that he’s right. They loo--”

Eunha silenced her with a strict look. “SinB...” is all she said, and it was all she needed.

SinB averted her eyes and a blush crossed her cheeks. “It’s um… Nice to meet you, Hyunjin. My name’s SinB.”

Hyunjin smirked. “Hey, good meeting you too. Don’t worry about the fight though. I used to be a lot better. I’m just out of practice. I’ll be starting regular training again next week.”

“You really did do great though,” Eunha said, “I mean, you had to, right? You won.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m just being critical of myself. But anyway, thanks for coming! I really appreciate the support.”

“Of course! Just think of us as your first fans?” Eunha ended with a questioning tone, but followed up quickly. “Actually, let’s not be fans yet. It’s weird for fans to take you out to dinner.”

“Dinner, huh? I’d like that. I need to get washed up first. Pretty sure I’ve still got some blood in my mouth.”

“Totally, yeah! We’ll just, uh, wait here.”

Hyunjin gave a nod and went to the locker room. He could hear Eunha hushedly giving SinB an earful the whole way.

Undressing was a bit painful. Hyunjin had taken a particularly strong hit to one of his left ribs, and now that he could see the site of the impact, he could already tell it would be bruising. He hoped it wasn’t broken.

As he made his way to the open showers, he could hear Eunha and SinB again. They sounded like they were close to the locker room. There wasn’t a door to block the sound though, so he didn’t think much of it, but he knew something was up when he heard footsteps over the sound of the running water. Nobody else should be on this half of the building except his coach, who he hadn’t even informed of the fight. He quickly covered his dick with his hands and turned to the entrance.

And there was SinB, blushing furiously, looking straight up at the ceiling. “H-hey, Hyunjin. I’m sorry.”

“Um. Well, cool. Apology accepted. But is this really the--”

Hyunjin cut himself off as Eunha brushed past SinB. But unlike SinB, she was completely undressed. She walked toward him, small breasts bouncing with each step, getting soaked as she went directly through the spray of the showers. He started to smile, but noticed and quickly got rid of it. “Eunha, you’re…”

“I’m here to help you get cleaned up,” she finished his sentence for him, though it wasn’t what he was intending to say. “We can get to the restaurant sooner this way, right?”

Eunha grabbed a bar of soap from one of the little shelves along the wall and stopped just short of Hyunjin, who had lost all hope of being able to hide his erection. Not that Eunha seemed to mind, or even pay any attention. But it’s what she said next that made her intentions much, much clearer.

“You and Sowon aren’t exclusive, right?”

“No. I suppose we’ve been very clear that we aren’t.” Hyunjin took a hand away from his crotch to rub the back of his neck.

Eunha put a hand on Hyunjin’s arm, pointing at his neck. “Oh no. Are you feeling sore?” She gestured toward a stool. “Let me give you a massage. SinB!”

Hyunjin watched, half afraid and half mesmerized, as SinB quickly undressed and tossed all of her clothes back into the locker room. He let Eunha pull him down to sit on the stool she dragged underneath the stream of the shower. “I don’t really need a massage. It’s okay.”

“That’s good to hear! I’ll just get started on washing you up then. In the meantime, can you do me a favor?”

“Uh… Sure?”

While sitting on the stool, Hyunjin was just barely shorter than Eunha, which let her lean down to whisper in his ear. Her tone made it clear she was asking a question. “Let SinB practice on you?”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide. “So Eunha, I don’t mean to sound like a perv here, but are you implying something about practicing a blowjob? Because I’ll take that.”

Eunha motioned for SinB to approach. “No, no. Why would you think that?” she asked, clearly twitching at the corner of her mouth as she tried not to smile. She slowly pulled Hyunjin’s other hand away from his full-mast dick.

In no time at all, SinB was standing in front of Hyunjin, hair getting drenched by the shower, hands behind her back, and eyes anywhere but on him. With a little difficulty, she moved to straddle his lap. The width of her legs put her bare pussy dangerously close to his cock.

Sure he knew where the situation was taking them, Hyunjin shifted his legs, pushing SinB’s a little farther apart. The head of his dick speared her. He watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly. She used her hands to brace herself on his shoulders. He wanted to make a snarky comment, but was having difficulty coming up with anything good. He was also distracted by the feeling of something hard against his cock. He reached around SinB and grabbed her butt. As his fingers explored, he was able to verify immediately that she had a butt plug inside of her.

“This is an interesting night,” he said simply.

Just then, Hyunjin felt Eunha pressing her front up against his back. Her skin glided over his, as if it was (and it was) covered in soap. At the same time, SinB lowered herself further onto his dick in a jerking, twitching way.

“I don’t know what you mean. Is something unusual, Hyunjin?” Eunha asked as she rubbed her tits and stomach up and down his back.

Hyunjin’s sarcasm struggled its way out of his throat as SinB started fucking him, bouncing herself and making a beautiful, wet scene of her slim body. “Not at all…” Hyunjin said, “Perfectly normal Wednesday night.”

Eunha couldn’t contain her giggle. She ran her soapy hands over Hyunjin’s shoulders, arms, and whatever parts of his legs she could reach with SinB in the way. He winced a little when she swept over his new bruise, but otherwise did his best not to react.

“How do you like SinB’s pussy?”

Hyunjin groaned. His grip on SinB’s asscheeks tightened subconsciously. He had to unclench his teeth to say, “It’s alright.”

“Hear that, SinB? Just alright. Maybe a bit amateurish.”

SinB’s shoulders tensed up visibly. “I said I was sorry…”

Eunha walked around to the shelves on the wall to pull a bottle of shampoo off. The close up view of Eunha’s plump, naked, wet ass just about set Hyunjin off. She was obviously arching her back just enough to make it noticeable.

“Damn, Eunha. I always admired your butt when you were my senior, but now… fuck…”

She turned to look at Hyunjin over her shoulder. “Oh thank you! Sounds like you’re thinking about cumming?”

Hyunjin nodded. With no hesitation at all, Eunha set the shampoo back down and pulled a visibly shocked SinB off of his cock. He was shocked too, about ready to ask why Eunha would do such a thing, but found his answer right away.

Eunha, facing away from Hyunjin, positioned herself between his legs and spread her ass with one hand, and grabbed his cock with the other. She directed it to an unexpected target, and Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat as he was hilted completely in Eunha’s asshole.

“Now you can cum,” she said.

Hyunjin didn’t need to be told twice. He barely needed to be told once. His orgasm hit him harder than his opponent did in the ring. He grabbed Eunha’s hips and held her down against him as he pumped a gigantic load into her ass.

He brushed his hair back, suddenly light headed, feeling like his soul had just been pulled out of him through his cock. He saw SinB sitting back against the wall, still blushing bright red, masturbating as she stared between Eunha’s legs at the spot where Hyunjin was impaling her.

“So then,” Eunha said casually, despite having an ass full of Hyunjin’s dick and cum, “Did you want anything special for dinner? I have an idea if you don’t!”

Hyunjin smiled. He was still trying to comprehend what just happened, but he was happy with it, even if the intensity of his climax left him with the sound of a bell ringing in his ears.

#gfriend smut #kpop smut #male oc #eunha #sinb #request

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piccolina-mina · 3 years ago

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Our girl is thriving this season, but what the fuck is this Wyatt plot? I need your thinks about this one. I just knew you'd be six posts in on this by now. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*sighs* For fk's sake, nonny. I don't even like talking about it because I get ranty.

What do you want me to say? Honestly, everything you can imagine I would feel about this, you're probably right. Because you know, I'm that b*tch always getting ranty about racism and stuff.

In short, I hate it. I think it's unnecessary, tone-deaf, random, pointless, lowkey offensive, and illogical. I legitimately find it triggering AF. And it doesn't make sense.

It's Unnecessary. There is a fraction of a chance that it will connect to something more significant, but even if that's the case, I'm confident that end result or connection could've taken place without this random reform racist Wyatt storyline. This series has struggled enough as it is properly utilizing all of its primary characters as well as providing them with decent screentime and arcs. It literally makes no sense to spend any of that time that could be used elsewhere on primary characters on a recurring guest star.

This isn't actually about Rosa, it's about Wyatt. Following up on the previous point, this specific arc caters to Wyatt. Revolves around Wyatt. Rosa is just a passive participant and vessel for this Wyatt storyline. So again, the arc itself is about a recurring character. At least when they did something similarly bringing back Cam to siphon time and arcs away from its main cast they found ways to implement it better and tied her to multiple main characters, so it wasn't a total waste.

The intended Wyatt/Rosa parallel is illogical. I know what they're intending to do with this storyline, drawing parallels between Rosa's experience coming back from the dead after ten years and trying to make sense of that and atone for things before and having this second chance to make things right and go down the right path and so forth and Wyatt losing his memory and his racist ways and having to reconcile with who he was to who he can be and all of that. I understand the concept they're trying to sell. It just doesn't work. Rosa's addiction is not equivalent to Wyatt's racism and violence. Her mental illness isn't either. It's dangerous to invite the comparasions with this storyline.

It's not successful redemption. True redemption is Wyatt knowing and remembering his actions and then trying to atone for them. It's not the convenience of amnesia wiping out his memory only giving him distance from his actions rather than really facing up to them. Because of the amnesia, to Wyatt, it's like he's hearing about another person. It's a cop out. He doesn't Actually have to do the work to redeem himself or atone or learn or grow. IF we're supposed to compare it to Rosa, she knew what she did and remembers and knows how she hurt her loved ones or whatever and she's actively trying to make amends for that as part of her program... a program that Wyatt isn't working or anything BTW.

They've contradicted themselves too much and are rewriting their own work and thus twisting everything up just to make this storyline work and it still doesn't. The timeline is all fkd up... what they established already all of it..The Longs were racist before Kate's death. Kate was racist. To suggest that a 10+ amnesiac blackout clean slates and erases all of Wyatt's racism is just wrong. As in it literally doesn't even make any sense. That is not how the amnesia works but they keep playing both sides of it trying to make it work. To sell us what they're claiming, he would have to have ALL of his memories wiped and have forgotten who he was completely.

Wyatt is behaving like he's shocked by racism in this town but they're also trying to argue that he was born into it. Wyatt was surrounded by racists and his friends come from racist families but he's acting like the very concept of him ever being ingratiated in it is some huge surprise. Wyatt looks affronted by things like Confederate flags. Wyatt being steeped in and surrounded by racism predates his amnesia period.

Kyle mentioned that line about Wyatt putting Whites Only on water fountains, and it sounded like a school prank. It also sounded like something Kyle was reminding Rosa of as if she was alive when that incident happened. Therefore, Wyatt was doing racist stuff before she died. Kyle would've been out of school by then so how else would he know that or why would he bother retaining it?

IF Wyatt and Rosa really were friends before (which holy retcon), then it makes no real sense that he would get psychopathically angry about his "friend" who does drugs getting into a car accident with his sister who does drugs. He would've mourned them both not jumped to severe racism and violence. But both he and Jasmine's family (who are MIA for all of this) did that... jumped to racism. So was Wyatt indoctrinated by his family or indoctrinated by message boards and shit? And if Wyatt and Rosa were friends than why was Kate such a racist bitch to Rosa?

They're backdrafting history JUST to make this storyline that we don't need with a character who isn't even a main one to work.

By not actually addressing that Wyatt has to unlearn racism and giving him an out through amnesia, there is the very realistic issue of that latent racism to come out at any given time. What happens when he's drunk? What happens when he's really angry at a POC?

Tying Wyatt's redemption with his clear affection for Rosa is again dangerous and irresponsible. I know we would all like to think that love is the way and through love it can heal racism, but that puts the responsibility on the disenfranchised person to be "lovable." Because if Wyatt WAS friends with Rosa once then that means the second Rosa did something unlovable she was just another *insert racist slur of choosing* right? It means that there's a possibility that if his feelings for Rosa dwindle or things go sideways in some way there's a chance that he could revert back to those racist ways. Loving Rosa(linda) and pinning all of his wanting to be better on her because of her makes his actively learning to be anti-racist conditional. Right now he's not doing this for him. He's doing it because of Rosa.

This entire storyline has placed the burden of forgiveness on Rosa, his victim. Without him ever having to actually make amends. It's this turn the other cheek BS that means there's nothing too big or harmful that can't result in forgiveness. It relies on Rosa and all that she represents to extend an inhumane level of mercy and grace to their tormentor and oppressor that was never once extended to them. It's such a consistent and problematic thing projected on disenfranchised parties that ONLY benefits the majority and makes them feel good. It's a narrative of meeting someone halfway when the playing field was uneven and the minorities are in actuality doing more work and making a longer trek. Halfway and meeting in the middle only works if both sides were even. They are not. It's the reaching across the aisle both sidesms when one side was clearly and actively more harmful than the other and than calling that peace and equity. It is not.

This storyline was meant to scintillate some viewers with this "what if" notion and teach others a meaningful lesson or be this poorly thought out gateway to exploring a complex storyline but it came at the expense of other demographics who actively have to deal with racist crap. And because of their problematic approach what is simply "just entertainment" to some who has the luxury of not having to think about it beyond that, is just gross and insanely triggering and uncomfortable to others. The others who deal with the reality of the subject at hand.

They wrote themselves into a corner with Wyatt so trying to dig him out of that no matter the cost or logic is absurd. This storyline could've worked better if Wyatt's racism didn't also include conscious, constant, extreme violence. But they spent all of this time making Wyatt the face of violent racism and now are trying to redeem him with no real effort. He wasn't just using slurs or making microaggressions. He wasn't some insensitive or aloof white person. He is a murderer. He has killed people. He technically murdered Liz in cold-blood. He knew she was in the crashdown when he shot up the place. The lights were still on. He beat up Arturo so badly he nearly killed him well after his friends even stopped. He attacked and intended to kill Rosa. And his handiwork was a constant thing, enough for Jenna to comment on it. And now we're supposed to ignore all of that because he has amnesia and has puppy dog eyes?

The fact that we can entertain (and for some succeed) Wyatt in all of his hot white dudeness' redemption after everything he has done slips into the inherent racism of society in the first place and is enraging. Because systemically and culturally and inherently society will bend over backwards to find a way to absolve a hot white guy no matter his actions. Flint and Noah couldn't get this type of redemption... So their intended storyline about evolving from racism STILL plays into the racist structures set up in society.

And because some people like it, there's this slippery territory of NO everyone who genuinely enjoys this aren't racist for enjoying it. But yes, this entire storyline and how it is playing out is at the very least racially insensitive.

In order for this storyline to work they would actually have to show Wyatt doing the work. They don't have enough time to dedicate to such a delicate storyline. It's been a C and D filler storyline with 45 second to a minute scenes. That's not enough time to explore this properly. We would've needed to see Wyatt returning home from the hospital. We would've needed to see Wyatt with his friends and it not feeling right and his discomfort. We would've needed to see Wyatt going through his yearbook and googling himself and the horror and disgust he felt. We would need to see this through his eyes. But we didn't have the time for that and we wouldn't have anyway because he's not a main character. We only get Wyatt through Rosa's eyes and they haven't even dedicated enough time to that for it to work. Rosa isn't conflicted at all. She didn't struggle to forgive him. She was reduced to a school girl with a crush and an insane level of grace and they just threw that at us with no buildup whatsoever. I don't know where Rosa's head is and how she got to this to place. Not really. And the only thing working about this is the chemistry between two actors who are allegedly dating so of course there's chemistry.

It literally feels like another instance of a favorite actor being shoehorned into a storyline just for the hell of it. Just because they didn't want to let Dylan go or something. Just to give him something else to do.

#anti wyatt long #rnm salt #roswell new mexico #rnm ask

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years ago

Text

Last chapter of this volume! Can’t believe we’re already through four volumes, and we’re not even done with the second full arc yet. I mean, later arcs are gonna be even longer, but like. Yeah.

[No. 35 - Battle On, Challengers!]

We move on to the next match - Kaminari versus Shiozaki! I’m actually kind of marveled that they were able to thaw out that entire glacier in any sort of timely manner. That’s quirks for you!

Present Mic announces Shiozaki as class 1b’s assassin, and also reveals that he apparently either doesn’t know the full quote for ‘every rose has its thorns’ or started to say it, only to realize she didn’t have roses and scrambled to compensate. Kaminari, meanwhile, gets announced as a ‘sparking, killing boy.’ Really kind of morbid on this round, huh?

Shiozaki turns around to object to Present Mic’s descriptor as an ‘assassin’, stating that she’s merely come this far seeking victory. Present Mic apologises, and Kaminari just kind of watches while admiring her. He takes notes of her eyes, and then thinks about how strong she is. He then sort of counters his previous admiration of strength by asking himself if he really has to hit someone so pretty with a full discharge, then concludes his ‘battle plan’ by determining that he’ll ask her out once all this is over.

Present Mic starts the match while Shiozaki is still focused on talking to Mic - which means she’s facing away from Kaminari. Which is kind of a dick move on Mic’s part, but eh, I guess ‘heroes have to be ready for anything,’ yarda yarda etcetera.

Kaminari asks Shiozaki if she wants to grab something to eat when they’re done there, and that he’s happy to console her if she wants. She turns to stare at him in confusion, just in time to see him charging up his whole body with his quirk. Kaminari makes a quip about this match probably being over in an instant - and then we cut to the immediate aftermath, where Present Mic comments on how it’s already over while Kaminari wheys out in the grasp of Shiozaki’s vines. Shiozaki was both able to create a shield against the electricity and yank Kaminari into the air and away from her, thus causing him to short-circuit.

One on patrol, Mount Lady comments on Shiozaki being a promising one, and another plant user. Kamui Woods amits he wishes he could’ve seen her up close, but that they need to get back to work.

Back in the stadium, Midnight announces Shiozaki moving on to the second round. Shiozaki is relieved to have no wasted the opportunity bestowed upon her, and the narrative finally gives us an informational blurb on her quirk.

...A strange ending note there, but sure. Some of the crowd - or possibly Izuku? Since he’s sinking into a muttering fest right after - comments on the ‘match’ and the participants. Shiozaki’s ability to use her quirk is something else, between building walls, binding enemies… Kaminari’s quirk was no use against her. She countered him well. He might’ve had a chance if he could maneuver better, but he panicked and short-circuited after one attack.

Ochako hears muttering besides her and is a bit alarmed, looking over to see Izuku in the middle of an analysis fugue. Izuku mutters about thinking Kaminari’s quirk would be stronger, but Shiozaki got fourth in the entrance exam, and she’s the real deal. The vine moves are similar to Kamui Wood’s binding attacks, and binding types are always strong, to the point where you almost never see someone break out. It’s pretty much impossible to dodge all the vine attacks, so the only counter is to rip them apart with brute strength - ah, but to prevent that, they tend to go for the hands first.

(...and I just NOW realized that this specific commentary about binding-type quirks and the counter being brute strength is literally something that comes into play when Best Jeanist binds Gigantomachia with those steel cables during the Jakku arc. Holy shit, I don’t think Hori intended it, but what a callback. Or it’s just good worldbuilding, which would also be neat!)

Ochako eventually cuts into Izuku’s muttering - startling him in the process - by commenting on how his match just ended, but he’s already thinking ahead strategy-wise. Izuku denies it, saying that it’s just a hobby of his, and that they finally have a chance to see the quirks of people outside their class in action. He then eagerly shows her his open notebook, stating that he has everything she’d need to know about class A in there - even her ‘zero gravity’.

Me, staring down the people who have the class unaware of the contents of Izuku’s notebooks when writing suspected traitor fics:

Anyways! Ochako is kind of impressed despite herself, stating that she thought Izuku was amazing from the day they met, but this sports festival has brought him to a whole other level. Izuku is confused by the complement, but there’s no time to ask, since Present Mic is announcing the participants of the next battle: Tenya versus Hatsume.

Some of the students are chattering about how the match is going to go, with one asking what is that - which seems to be referring to the support items Tenya is wearing? Midnight comments on it as well, noting that they’re forbidden for hero course students, and that a special request has to be put in for those things beforehand. Tenya admits he forgot, seeing as Aoyama was wearing that belt of his. Midnight reminds him that Aoyama applied for an exception.

Tenya apologies, stating that he’d been touched by Hatsuma’s sense of sportsmanship. Although she’s a member of the support course, she came to him and said that if they’re to be seen as equals, then they should fight on equal footing. She gave those items to him; her earnest spirit… he could never look down on it. That was his thinking.

Midnight apparently is now all for this, calling Tenya naive. Mic says that it’s good enough for him, and Aizawa says that if both parties are fine with it, he supposes it can be allowed… right? Izuku, up in the stands, is looking concerned, wondering if Hatsume is really the type to offer that. Hatsume, of course, is chuckling as she flips down a microphone right as the match starts.

Mei immediately starts going into her spiel, commenting on Tenya’s speed - much to the confusion of both Mic and Tenya. She then points out how Tenya’s legs should feel lighter than usual, and that that’s what one can expect with her custom leg parts, which keep up with their user’s speed! However, dodging is no problem for her with her hydraulic attachment bars! Which she deploys just before Tenya reaches her, causing him to trip over one of the bars and flail.

Mei checks for where the support companies were seated, her quirk zeroing in on the faces she’s looking for - which, to her pleasure, are eating her words up.

Tenya catches himself and spins on his heels, wondering what she’s going. Hatsume complements it, noting how her auto-balancer makes those sorts of tight movements possible. Meanwhile, up in the announcement booth, Mic and Aizawa are both so put out, with Aizawa facepalming and calling her a born saleswoman.

The game of tag, along with a completely play-by-play sales pitch, goes on for another ten minutes. Eventually, however, Hatsume steps over the line, sweating but proud of managing to get through everything she wants to show off. Midnight states that Tenya’s moving on to the second round, while Tenya is just in despair at the deception.

Ah, the face of someone with zero shame. Hatsume gives a completely insincere apology for using Tenya, which Tenya replies to by stating his extreme dislike of her.

Izuku is also a bit dismayed as he notes that Tenya is just too serious, so it wasn’t hard for her to get him to play her game, and that at least she’s honest about her under-handed methods to get what she wants. Ochako herself is looking a bit down as she gets up, quietly noting to Izuku that she should get to the prep room. Izuku notes that she left her still-full drink behind, glancing back to her in concern as she walks away.

As other matches run in the background, we shift over to prep room two, which Tenya is just entering. Ochako, already waiting in there, tells him good which, which startles him out of his funk as he recognizes her. Of course, the first thing he notes is her furrowed brows, which Ochako admits is probably from her being a bit nervous, and how it’s probably showing on her face. Tenya remembers her match is against Katsuki, and Ochako admits that she’s really scared. But, seeing Tenya out there, she…

Well, before she can finish her thought, Izuku bursts into the room. Ochako is confused, since he should be out there watching the other matches. Tenya to the side asks about the story behind the support girl. Izuku ignores the latter, telling Ochako that another two matches are already over, and now Kirishima and some class 1b guy are duking it out. Mina managed to damage Aoyama’s belt, he panicked, and she knocked him out with an uppercut to the chin. Then Tokoyami won his match in a flash - he didn’t give Momo the time to use the objects she made… he’s one of the strongest guys here in a one-on-one. Ochako realizes this means her match is up soon, her heart pounding in her chest.

Tenya can’t imagine that Katsuki would give it his explosive all against a female opponent, but Izuku cuts in, staring very firmly that Katsuki will. Everyone is competing here with the dream of becoming number one. No one’s holding back - Katsuki least of all. However, Ochako’s already helped Izuku so much, so he thought he might return the favor…

He really just stores his notebooks anywhere he can. What a legend. He offers the notebook, stating that Ochako needs a counter-strategy against Katsuki - one that uses her quirk. He came up with it on the fly, but it might work! Tenya is relief, stating how fortunate Ochako is. Ochako thanks Izuku, but says that it’s okay. Both Izuku and Tenya are startled by the reply.

Ochako states how amazing Izuku is, and how he does amazing stuff all the time. During the cavalry battle, she thought the easiest strategy woul be to team up with friends. But when she thinks about it, she was just putting her faith in Izuku. That’s why Tenya said ‘I challenge you’ and all that, which left her feeling a little embarrassed about herself.

She pushes herself to her feet, moving past them to get to her match as she says thanks, but no thanks. Everyone here is fighting for their futures, so doesn’t that make them all rivals? That’s why she’ll see him in the finals!

Ochako, sweetie…

Kirishima and Tetsutetsu knock each other out at the same time. Present Mic comments on the mirror image quirk matchup, and how the winner is… neither! They have a tie, since both are down. Midnight clarifies that in the event of a tie, they’ll determine the winner after the two recover, probably with an arm wrestling match or the like. The crowds comment on how they’re equal in strength, and how that was great though. They kind of hotbloodedness would be a great morale boost, and how they’re desirable as sidekicks.

Shouto watches on as the final two contestants of the first round enter the arena. Tsuyu states her worries about the match, and Jirou addson how she doesn’t want to watch it. Izuku quietly hopes for Ochako to do her best.

And so the final match is announced: Ochako versus Katsuki.

And with that, volume four is done! I’ll be getting up the character sheet first, and then digging into the bonus material. Hopefully y’all enjoy!

#chapter 35 #sports festival arc #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #Iida Tenya #uraraka ochako #kayama nemuri #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #Hatsume Mei #Kaminari Denki #shiozaki ibara #not related to this post or anything #but happy birthday tenya #what a good bean #he gets so betrayed in this chapter

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canniballistix · 4 years ago

Note

Parallels/metaphor/whatever of john winchester and god both as absentee fathers in hbo spn?

"I can't," Dean hissed.

His hand was shaking. Why was his hand shaking? This was something he'd done a thousand times. He'd lost track of the number of girls he'd kissed.

And yet… his hand shook. His hand shook as it cradled the one which cupped against his cheek, and it only served to make this whole thing all the more intimate.

The boy sighed, and Dean could feel the weight of his breath. "I thought you liked me."

"I do!" Dean said, even as the hand slipped out from under his. "I do, I do, swear to God I do."

"I-it's okay," the boy said. His hand dropped back onto his knee. "Look, I-- I get it, man. You're a guy's guy, and I'm… I dunno."

"Hey." Dean but his hand on the boy's shoulder and gripped it firmly. Though this steadied his hand, he could suddenly feel the way the boy was quaking. "It's nothin' to do with you, okay? You're… I mean, you're…"

The boy's piercing eyes were fixed on Dean's face as he struggled to find the right words. The longer they alluded Dean, the deeper the boy's heart sank.

At last, Dean sighed. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, okay?" he said at last. "Look at you. Jesus."

The hint of a smile tugged at the boy's lips.

"And you got good taste in music, and you're smart," Dean continued. His list ended there, however.

The boy cleared his throat. "But…?"

Dean closed his eyes. The way a business man closes his eyes just before he fired a good, hardworking family man. "But…" he managed to say, fingers wandering across the hem of the boy's shirt, "as much as I want to… I can't."

The boy sat there a moment longer.

It was a strange sort of quiet here, under the bleachers.

It should have been just as loud as the rest of the football field. Yet, somehow, the sounds of the crickets were so much softer. The wind seemed to miss them entirely. Here, on an autumn night, these two boys may as well have been in their own world.

The boy brushed away Dean's hand. Like it was a mosquito. Like it was nothing. "Fine. I get it," he said, getting to his feet. "Really creative way to get out of kissing me. Dramatic. Shakespearean, even."

Dean pounded the ground with one fist, then leapt up after the boy. "God, Jesse, wait--"

Jesse. That's it. His name was Jesse.

"I'm done."

"Please, if you just let me explain, I--"

"You're not explaining!" Jesse whirled to face Dean. "You're not saying anything!"

Dean took a deep breath in, and he was surprised to find that his lungs seemed to be quivering, as well.

Jesse stared at Dean. His fists were clenched at his sides. The floodlights over the football field cast an otherworldly light over his dark and messy hair, like light from heaven itself.

It did not reach Dean where he stood, still under the bleachers, his hand just barely reaching out into its warmth.

"Well?" Jesse prompted.

"My dad," Dean blurted out.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You dad?"

Dean shook his head. "If he found out-- if he knew--"

"How could he?" Jesse asked.

Dean blinked. His heart was hammering against his ribcage.

"He's not watching, Dean," Jesse said, a hand raised to the sky.

Dean thought about that. He looked to the sky, as well, inexplicably feeling as if John Winchester might be peering down at him from the top of the bleachers.

And yet, despite that strange terror that John was watching, that he would somehow know, this was the first time Dean realized that his father wasn't there. And not just on the bleachers, but anywhere-- anywhere at all in Dean's life where it might have mattered.

Wherever a father should have been--loving or kind or cruel or spiteful--there was merely a hole. A blank space where John may have fit, and yet never did.

The fear was melting away.

Because there was nothing there.

Only stars.

Dean stumbled out into the light. He grabbed Jesse by the front of his hoodie, and kissed him like his life depended on it.

~~~~~

"I can't," Castiel said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You can't what? You can't taste?"

The angel returned a shrug. This was something new he'd picked up from Dean, though he didn't seem to have it down just yet-- Castiel only shrugged his shoulders when he didn't feel like answering, not because he didn't know the answer.

"You're not even gonna try?" Dean asked, pushing the plate of french fries a little closer. "C'mon, how bad could it be?"

"I told you, I can't," Castiel replied, pushing the plate back towards Dean.

"Now that's just stupid," Dean said. "You can't eat at all? For real? Your vessel can eat, can't he?"

"Of course he can," Castiel said, all but rolling his eyes. "I cannot."

Dean gave into temptation and growled lightly, pulling the plate towards himself and chomping down on another french fry.

The diner was quiet. When he was traveling with Castiel, Dean preferred to dine at night-- in fact, he preferred to work on as much of a night schedule as possible. Castiel was, to put it lightly, a fucking weirdo, and corralling him into acting even remotely human was a full-time job.

But anything goes at three in the morning in a twenty-four-hour truck stop.

All that could be heard was the clattering of dishes in the kitchen-- far fewer than those filling the sink twelve hours previously. Occasionally, something would come flying down the highway. Funny how much faster they seemed to rush by when there was so much stillness in-between.

Dean sipped his coffee.

Castiel sat very still, his hands folded delicately on table in front of him. He was staring out at that highway, and yet his eyes seemed hardly focused at all.

Dean leaned forward, trying in vain to see what it was that had Castiel so captured. As he did, he saw the man's reflection ripple along the surface of the glass, light against the darkness of the night.

In passing, Castiel's reflection looked just as one might expect. He was, after all, a dirty little man in a trenchcoat, and that was reflected quite plainly. The closer you looked, however--the longer and deeper you stared into the forms, into his eyes--the more you would see.

Some people saw God or Jesus or whatever. Some people would catch a rare glimpse of the true angel, its power lessened to that of a sharp headache by the reflection. Most people, though, saw people.

No one in particular. Just shadows of people half-remembered, ghosts of the past.

As Dean looked at Castiel's reflection, he saw something familiar in the sharpness of his eyes. In the dark mess of his hair. In the tautness of his lower lids as he gazed out into nothingness.

A boy. His name nearly forgotten--James or Jonathan or something--but his face as crisp and clear as ever.

His first kiss.

Not his first-first kiss. Not really. But his first kiss that had felt the way they say it should.

"Whaddya mean?" Dean asked.

Castiel turned to look at Dean. He didn't ask for clarification-- not out loud, at least.

Dean set his jaw. "What do you mean you can't?" he said. "You can't… like, physically?"

Castiel frowned. "No. I'm quite capable of eating."

He paused.

A pause so long he may have, in fact, finished talking.

Dean cleared his throat. "But…?"

"But," Castiel said, almost stalling, "it is frowned upon."

Dean scoffed. "Frowned upon?"

"Yes," Castiel continued. "The garrison is very strict about how… involved we should be in human culture. Eating, listening to music, dancing--"

"You're not allowed to dance?!" Dean smacked his forehead, biting back a laugh. "Goddamn. Remind me to show you Footloose sometime. You'd get a kick outta that one."

"Mm."

Castiel did not seem near as enchanted by this as Dean. It occurred to Dean that, if listening to music was forbidden, watching movies was likely on the shit list, too.

Dean cleared his throat again. "I mean. That sounds…" But he couldn't think of the words, exactly. "Wh-who told you not to do that junk?"

Castiel cocked his head. "God, of course."

"Right. God." Dean nodded slowly. "Sounds like a stand-up guy."

"I wouldn't know," Castiel said. "I've never met him."

Dean squinted. "You've never met God." Not a question, exactly, though he intended it to be. "Isn't he, like… your dad?"

Castiel sighed. "I suppose you could say that."

"But you've never met him?"

"I've never met him."

"But you're living your life by his rules?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "He… if he found out-- if he knew that I was--"

"How could he?"

Castiel blinked.

"Cas." Dean pushed the plate of french fries back across the table. "God's not watching."

Castiel thought about that. For some reason, he turned to look out the window once more, gazing balefully at a streetlight in the parking lot. As if God himself would appear under it.

And yet, despite that strange terror that God was looking down at him, that he would somehow know, this was the first time that Cas truly realized that his father wasn't there. Not just under the streetlight, but anywhere-- anywhere at all on Earth that may have mattered.

Wherever God should have been--loving or kind or cruel or spiteful--there was merely a hole. A blank space which may have been holy, and yet never was.

The fear was melting away.

Because there was nothing there.

Perhaps Cas himself was the holiest thing on Earth.

Cas reached out and lifted a french fry from the thick ceramic plate. He made eating diner food look like a celebration of the Eucharist.

#im genuinely diseased #hbospn #hbo spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #fic #spn fic #spn fanfic

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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Better Luck Next Time (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

Request: Reader is really bad at expressing her feelings and talking about things she loves, so the team helps her as best as they can. And one evening she calls them all into a room and tells them how much they all mean to her and how happy she is to have them

Author’s note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog because without her this imagine would not have been nearly as cute or cohesive. It’s set up kind of like a three times she didn’t and the one she did format. I also couldn’t help the little hint of Mal x reader that i stuck in here. Let me know what you think! i freaking live for feedback. Hit me up with questions, requests or if you just wanna say hi. My inbox is always open!

3 days on the team

Fuck the beep test.

You fell to your knees panting heavily, sweat pouring off your forehead as you stared in disbelief at Kelley. How the fuck was she still going? The rest of your team had already been eliminated, everyone except for the flying squirrel.

You had barely made it to the line on time, and there she was, running off to the next one in time to hear the next one like you hadn’t just done 70 reps. You had to up your game if you wanted to keep your spot. Your plan was simple- beat the best players and show them why you belonged.

A bottle of water appeared in your peripheral vision. You flinched waiting for the icy spray to hit your face, but it never did.

“You did good kid. Don’t beat yourself up about getting out earlier than Kelley. I don’t think anyone could actually beat her.” She said, pushing the water bottle into your hands and making you take a sip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words would come out. You weren’t sure if that was because The Alex Morgan was talking to you, or if it was because your lungs were no longer in your chest.

“I swear, the rest of us could tag-team this thing and she would still probably outlast us,” Alex said, shaking her head as she walked away, already used to your non-responses (though she was sure she saw your lips twitch up) “I’ve stopped trying, it’s so not worth the knee pain tomorrow.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times as if you were going to call some sarcastic response after her, but the words just wouldn’t come out. You just sighed, resting your head on your knees, your chin hitting your chest-- better luck next time.

*****

6 months on the team

The bus was a tricky situation. On most days the team didn’t care where you sat, but you knew that would change drastically during important tournaments, like Olympic qualifiers big. You had already been warned that where you sat- where everyone sat really- mattered.

Screwing it up could bring the team bad luck, and you really didn’t want to be the reason why your team wasn’t going to the Olympics for the first time.

For that reason you tried to be the last person on the bus, so you could tell where to sit based on what seats were open, but Emily had forgotten something and so she and Lindsey had run off to grab them, and now you were staring down the aisle of a partially filled bus wondering whether you were about to cast an omen of doom if you set your bag down.

“Third row on the left is open, or 8th on the right,” you hear a voice pipe up from behind you. One of Christen’s warm hands settled on your shoulders, the other held her duffel bag partially over her shoulder.

You felt yourself relax at the directions, incredibly grateful for the woman who had become one of your many team moms. You hadn’t ever spoken a full sentence to the woman, but she embraced your shy nature without blinking.

“You could also crash with Mal, she doesn’t have a bus buddy,” Tobin’s bead popped up on your other side, wiggling her eyebrows. It was funny to most of the girls that their two team babies had things for each other.

A light blush spread across your cheeks as you nodded. “Thanks” You mumbled, throwing your bag into an empty row, unwilling to sit with your crush. Tobin snorted as she settled back down, propping her feet up on the seat in front of her, her head on Alex’s shoulder as she slumped halfway down in her seat.

“Better luck next time kid,” Christen winked at Mal and tossed her a small package of Oreos when she pouted.

*****

9 months on the team

Going against Japan was never fun. They were a technically sound team with none of the friendly players like Leah or Jessie. That and they still held a massive grudge from the 2015 World Cup.

As the second half had progressed, the Japanese team had become increasingly desperate. In their attempts to get the ball out of their defending half and into the US box, they had left giant gaps in their defense that Linsey and Sam were exploiting. As forwards, you and Alex were getting sent through balls and crosses.

You collected a particularly nice ball threaded by Lindsey and broke towards goal, beating the two defenders that were marking you and looking for Alex. You were so focused on tracking her position that you didn’t see the center back coming in for a tackle until it was too late and you were staring up at the clouds, tweety birds fluttering around your head.

You could feel the headache forming, like a growing stress ball where the base of your head met your neck. That was going to hurt once the adrenaline rush was over.

“Hey Beaker, you alright?” Emily’s head appeared in your immediate vision, her worried form slightly fuzzy around the edges.

“Meep meep” You huffed, sending the woman a little smile. It was weird to see Sonnett so serious. She put down a hand to pull you up and began brushing the grass off your jersey.

“How the fuck is that not a yellow or a PK, her studs were up and she wasn’t even going after the ball,” Lindsey yelled towards the ref, jogging past you to get right in the woman’s face.

“Go help your girlfriend, mm fine” You mumbled, embarrassed by the attention you were getting. Emily’s presence was comforting, but couldn’t block the feeling of thousands of eyes throughout the stadium, watching you to see if you were going to be pulled from the field. You wondered if many of them were almost hoping for it.

Emily sent you a worried look before patting your shoulder. “That was almost a goal too! And hey, they wouldn’t have fouled you if you weren’t killing it out here!” She nudged your shoulder lightly with hers and released you to the medics, walking over to Lindsey and pulling her away from the ref before she got a red.

You watched them for a bit before someone shined a flashlight in your eyes. Maybe next time you would find the words to thank them, someday when you weren’t feeling so dizzy. You’d have better luck next time.

*******

1 year on the team

Oreos were the quintessential after practice snack. It appeased the vegans and catered to the sweet tooth of the younger side of the team, and really, anyone who didn’t like Oreos was surely messed up.

Normally the team took turns bringing the packets of double-stuff, hiding them in duffel bags so coaches wouldn’t see and remind them about the diets they were all supposed to be on during season (and Dawn was like a bloodhound when it came to contraband).

But to celebrate something the team would forego the normal packs set out by the coaching staff in favor of double, triple, or mega stuffed ones and some funky flavors. And right now was a celebration if you ever saw one. The team was jubilant after their extremely entertaining scrimmage. Your team, Cool Beans (named by Tobin), had beaten team Hot Stuff (Alex’s team) 6 to 5, you scoring 3 of said goals.

You smiled lightly from your place on the locker room bench, munching happily on your mint Oreo and listening to several of the conversations happening around you. You felt so comfortable tucked between Mal and Christen, so safe and welcome.

“You know, I really love you guys,” you said. There was a lull in the conversation, and several girls turned toward you in shock.

“Holy shit, Meep Meep just talked!” Emily exclaimed, all eyes turning to you and your very red cheeks. Perhaps you hadn’t meant to say that out loud...

“We all knew she could talk,” Mal protested, throwing a balled-up cookie packet at her. Emily only smirked as the piece of plastic drifted through the air, falling about a foot short of its intended target.

“Yeah but she said more than 3 words,” Lindsey rolled her eyes at the 2nd youngest forward, wiggling her eyebrows at Mal who had wrapped her spare arm around your waist.

“I just-... you guys make me feel safe and I’ve never had my friends become like family before, and I love you guys,” You said, smiling at the ground.

“We love you too Kiddo,” Christen said, from behind your left ear.

“Group hug!!!!!” Kelley yelled before anyone could stop her, the women sharing a conspirator look before rushing you.

You tried to protest, but in the end, there was no stopping them. A bundle of arms wrapped around you, dragging you to the floor in a dog pile.

“Isn’t this nice!” Emily said from somewhere above you.

“Would be nicer if your elbow wasn’t embedded in my spleen…” You grumbled, hushing when Mal leaned up to kiss your cheek. Yes, these women were crazy, but right now you felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #literalhedgehog

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spookyboywhump · 4 years ago

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Okokok this was. Out of nowhere but holy shit I had fun with it. Some Bad Timeline content y’all, 100% Wren bullying

CW: Pet whump, dehumanization, noncon kiss, noncon touching (nonsexual), knife whump, branding (kind of), nightmares, strangulation mention

***

Eli sighed as he unlocked the door to his apartment, exhausted after a long day at work. He just wanted to go and collapse into bed, sleep until he had to get up and do it all again in the morning. He stepped inside and turned around to lock the door, but he froze in his tracks, his blood running cold when he heard a terribly familiar voice.

“Hello, Love.”

No no no no. There’s no fucking way. Not here.

He couldn’t force himself to turn around, but he could feel his presence behind him. He knew he was still at the door, he could hopefully get it open, run for help, but just as he reached to unlock it again a hand tangled in his hair, and he felt the cold tip of a blade come and rest against his throat, forcing him to tilt his head back.

“No no, you’re not getting away from me that easily.” He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” He said as he dragged him further into the apartment, into the living room. He had clearly been here for a little while, things laid out and prepared on his coffee table, things he hoped to never see again. Leather cuffs, a blue collar, that goddamn ball gag, other tools Nicholas had used on him time and time again. It only just then occurred to him to call for help, panic taking over completely.

“No! Stop it- please- help me!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. He kept screaming, he had neighbors, somebody had to hear him, he hoped desperately this would work.

He fought when Nicholas moved the knife away from his throat, kicking the back of his knee and forcing him to the floor. There was a brief moment where he let go of his hair, he tried to scramble away but he was quickly grabbed by the wrist, roughly dragged back. His arms were twisted behind his back, secured in place with the leather cuffs, and he let out a broken sob, uselessly trying to pull against them.

“No no no please! Please somebody help!” He cried, but Nicholas finally had enough, grabbing him by the hair and holding the blade to his throat again as Eli took quick, shuddering breaths.

“Stop your crying and listen to me,” He hissed in his ear, “If you shut up now, I won’t have to gag you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He said, and all he could manage was a soft, whimpered mmhm, his lip trembling as he struggled not to cry. “There’s my good boy.” He said, finally letting go of him, only temporarily as he took a seat on the couch, grabbing his face and forcing him to meet his cold grey eyes.

“P-please, please don’t- don’t-“

“Shhh, it’s okay my love.” He said gently. “Look at you- you’ve only been away a short while and you’ve already ruined yourself.” He said, using the tip of the knife to brush back a loose strand of hair. Elias had dyed it as soon as he could after getting home, a nice deep blue color he had always been fond of. The thought of having that taken away again brought even more tears to his eyes. “You ran away for what? This tiny apartment? Long hours at work? Loneliness and fear and paranoia? Why would you do that when you were so much more comfortable with me?”

“N-no, I wasn’t, I wasn’t-“ He took a deep shuddering breath, struggling to put his frantic thoughts into words. “You-you know I was-wasn’t happy, how-how could I have been? Please, I-I’m home, it’s over now, please let it be over.” He whimpered pathetically, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“It’s not over until I say it is, you know that.” He said, a cruel smile on his face. “You need to learn a lesson, you need to learn to drop this stupid idea you have that you’re actually a person.”

“I-I am- I am a person, m-my name is- is Elias Brax, I-I’m-“ He tried to go through the words Zander had taught him to hold onto himself, words he’d repeated again and again and again, only for Nicholas to suddenly slap him, his head snapping to the side.

“Shut up!” He snapped. “You’re lying to yourself and you know it. You’ve gotten stupid in your time away, you need me here to remind you.” He said. He roughly shoved Eli back, the boy crying out when the back of his head hit the edge of the coffee table. Nicholas got to his feet, wandering about the living room as he seemed to be thinking about something. “You need to learn a lesson…” He said again, Elias watching him in fear.

His heart was pounding hard in his chest, he felt like he couldn’t breath. He wanted to try to keep fighting but he was scared, he was scared and he was so, so tired of fighting, he couldn’t anymore. He wanted this to be over, but the only way to get there was to ride it out.

“Who is this?” Nicholas asked, picking up a framed photo of Everett from a shelf. From his tone, Eli knew he didn’t have the option not to answer.

“He’s dead.” He blurted out immediately, Nicholas giving him a look as though he didn’t believe him. “He- that’s- that’s my brother, he’s d-dead, you can’t hurt him.” He told him. Nicholas didn’t seem to buy it, but he dropped the picture frame, Eli flinching when he heard the glass break. He picked up the frame next to it, a photo of him and Zander taken not long before Nicholas had first kidnapped him. “The mutt is alive and well though- for now, that is. Maybe that’s what you need to learn to listen-“

“No!” He cried. “Don’t-don’t hurt him, don’t hurt- don’t hurt anyone but me!” He said, and Nicholas smiled.

“Well, if you insist.” He dropped that frame as well, Eli whimpering as he made his way back over to him. He had changed his position to watch him, making it easy for Nicholas to kick him down so he was laying on his back, his arms trapped beneath him. Nicholas got down on the floor with him, straddling his waist. He was instantly scared he intended to strangle him again, but Nicholas gently touched his face, wiping away a tear at the corner of his eye. He cringed at the feeling of leather against his skin, he’d always hated those gloves he always wore.

“P-promise me.” Eli said, hardly thinking as he said it.

“What’s that?”

“Promise me- promise me it’ll be just me. Promise you-you won’t hurt anyone e-else. Please.” He said, his voice wavering, and Nicholas laughed.

“Alright sweet boy, I promise I won’t hurt anybody else.” He told him. He leaned down, before he could turn his head away he kissed him, Eli freezing and going tense out of habit, he never did learn how he was supposed to react. He knew he was testing him, pushing his weak boundaries to see just how much he would take without snapping. He pulled back after only a moment, though it felt much longer, seeming pleased with the fact he hadn’t put up a struggle. “I only want you, after all.”

He sat up straight again, busying himself with unbuttoning the white shirt Eli was wearing. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but be disappointed it would end up stained with blood. He watched Nicholas reach across the coffee table, picking up a different blade, one he’d used on him often before, often enough that Wren’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

“How many days have you been gone from me, love? I’m sure you know the number.”

“I-It… it’s been almost seven- seven weeks… forty… forty six days today…” He said softly.

“Forty six days!” Nicholas said, almost sounding impressed. “You almost made it fifty days without me, I’m surprised you made it so long! That’s far too long though, too long for you to be left alone. A stupid thing like you is better off as a pet, you know that, right?” He said, clearly expecting an answer.

“I-I… Yes… yes sir…” He wanted to argue with him but he knew it would just prolong the ordeal, he just wanted it to be over.

“Good boy. Forty six days, well, we should go ahead and get started then.” He said, Elias wasn’t entirely sure what he intended to do but he bit back a cry when the blade pierced his skin, a small, quick cut, that stung more than anything else. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he’d made four similar cuts, only to slice across them as the fifth. Tally marks. One for everyday that he’d been gone.

Five of them was irritating, but bearable. Ten of them hurt, but aside from whining he remained quiet. Twenty of them, he couldn’t handle it anymore, sobbing as he felt like it had been going on forever, and would last just as long. The stinging pain was paired with the ache of his arms, his head pounding from his panicked breathing and crying. He wanted this to be over, he wanted everything to just go back to normal.

Forty six stinging cuts later and he was in tears, and despite the pain he was causing him Nicholas gently wiped away his tears, seeming to enjoy listening to him cry. Eli didn’t even want to know what his chest looked like, didn’t want to see all the blood. He wondered if Nicholas would be kind enough to clean him up at the end of all this, or if he would simply let him bleed out. He took a deep, shuddering breath when Nicholas got off him, though his relief didn’t last long when he pulled him into a sitting position, this wasn’t over just yet.

“Alright love, you did so well for me but the gag is necessary now.” He told him, and almost reflexively, obediently, he opened his mouth, slowly going numb the same way he did when he was trapped with him. Nicholas was gentle this time, the ball pushed between his teeth, the straps tightened and locked behind his head. He tried not to think about what was going to be so bad that it was supposedly necessary. He was careful as he moved him, adjusting him to lean forward and place his head on the table, Nicholas perched on the edge of the couch behind him. He heard a sound, the click of a lighter, and he couldn’t help but think about the time Cain heated a blade, and pressed it to his tongue.

He didn’t expect how close this would be to that. A sudden searing, white hot pain pressed against his back, in between his shoulder blades, and he *shrieked*. He sobbed loudly, tears streaming down his face as it happened again, he didn’t know how but he easily placed the pattern, forming out a letter N.

He screamed, though it was muffled by the gag he screamed, desperate and hopeless. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he screamed, because there was nothing else he could do.

***

When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his living room, shoved against the table and staring at that awful blue collar. He was staring at his ceiling, laying on his bed, his shark still clutched in one arm. He was covered in sweat but cold to the point of shivering, even under his blankets. The room was lit by a pale blue light, from a cat shaped night light on his desk, a gift from Zander. He sat up, shaking as he took in his surroundings.

As he finally came to his senses, he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head, looking down and expecting tally marks but not seeing any new scars, only ones he was used to, and the brand from Cain. He was able to reach back, his hand feeling between his shoulder blades and finding no traces of a burn or any wound. He took slow deep breaths, realizing it had just been a dream.

He opened his mouth, he tried to speak, and he couldn’t. Yep, just a dream. He’d never been so relieved to be silent.

He wasn’t entirely relieved though, a sense of paranoia still weighing down on him. He hardly thought about it when he stumbled out of bed, swaying and having to grab his door frame and stop for a minute on his way out. His dreams always disoriented him, having to adjust to only half his vision again. Once he was sure he was okay, he rushed to the front door, checking the locks, all of which were still in place. He moved about the apartment quickly, efficiently, flipping on every light and checking every room, even the closets. He checked the locks on the windows, the door to his balcony, all locked, all secure, every room empty. He even stopped in the living room, making sure the pictures of Everett and him and Zander were still intact, which they were. He was still nervous, but he felt safe enough to return to his room, climbing back into bed. He didn’t lay down, he stayed sitting propped against his headboard, holding his shark close to his chest.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare. He was alone, safe in his home. Nicholas wasn’t there, he couldn’t hurt him anymore, he didn’t have to play the part of his Love ever again.

My name is Elias Brax, He mouthed, his lip trembling, I’m twenty four years old. I’m not a dog. I’m not Wren. I’m not Love. My name is Elias Brax.

His shoulders shook as he buried his face in his stuffed animal, a silent sob wracking his body. He was tired of this, he wanted to be okay, he wanted it all to be over. Nicholas couldn’t hurt him anymore, but he was still scared of him, still so, so scared of him hurting somebody he loved. He didn’t want to be alone, he wanted Zander there, but it was hard to get ahold of him when he couldn’t even speak. He didn’t really want to bother him as it was, he had spent so much time with him in the first few weeks, Eli had been insisting he could finally sleep alone again. Well, apparently he couldn’t, it seemed.

He didn’t fall back asleep that night. He stayed curled up like that until the sun rose, and even then he didn’t want to move, too scared of doing something wrong, too scared that maybe the nightmare had been reality, and this was the real dream.

***

Tag List: @ihaventwritteninsolong , @galaxywhump , @legallylibra , @to-whump-or-not-to-whump , @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi , @as-a-matter-of-whump , @grovegrocer , @renkocchi , @whumpasaurus101 , @inky-whump , @lonesome--hunter , @ladygwennn , @simplygrimly , @withering-whump , @lave-e, @whatwhumpcomments , @thatsthewhump , @just-another-whumper , @starnight-whump , @unicornscotty

#whump #my writing #my oc’s #Bad Timeline #Wren #Nicholas #sibling death tw #pet whump #dehumanization #noncon kiss #noncon touching #knife whump #branding #nightmares

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deejadabbles · 3 years ago

Text

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Five: Hello, My Old Heart

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// Five /// (Six coming soon) ///

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

You could visibly see the poor young man swallowing hard as he settled in the seat across from you and the rest of your bandmates. Try as you might to make the setting casual (cushy chairs instead of a desk, offers of soda and chips, greeting him with an ‘what’s up, my dude?’, etc.) Atem still seemed rather nervous. Not that you blamed him, you distinctly remember Honda making a joke about “oh yeah, ask the dude to come to our secluded studio by himself to meet five strangers, that’s not creepy or anything” when Yugi told you guys how he had invited the man to meet with the rest of you.

“So, Yugi said that you write songs as a hobby?” Anzu began, giving him the warmest smile she could, an effort to ease Atem’s mood.

He nodded, then started unclasping the latch on his leather messenger bag, “That’s right, I’ll admit, I don’t have too many that are finished, but that’s mostly due to boredom and moving on to a new idea, not lack of inspiration.” He then pulled out some papers divided by paperclips. “Here are the songs I think best represent my usual work, the work that’s easiest for me to write as well as what I would prefer to put out there.”

Honda grabbed the small stack and passed out songs to each of you. A bit of an awkward silence fell as you all started reading the various lyrics, but not even that could tarnish how impressed you were with the ones you were reading. Poetic, but not too over the top or pretentious, nice. You glanced up at the others, nodding your head with an impressed smile before switching papers with Yugi to look over another example (you also didn’t miss the way Yugi beamed at you). Now this song struck you, after only reading the first verse you could already hear the beginnings of a beat and chords you could put with the lyrics.

“Yugi also said you have a killer voice,” you said, shifting your eyes from the page to peer up at him.

He gave a cute little cough, “Uh, yes, I suppose I’m not a bad singer.”

You had to actively keep your mind from gushing over how sweet he was. The dude looked like a typical adonis hottie, but his shy outer demeanor just added an extra layer to him. He was wearing something more stylish than the few tabloid pics you’d seen: a long-sleeved black shirt with a silky maroon and gold vest, accessorized with a few rings, bangles, necklaces, and a pair of gold dangling earrings.

You shook the wandering thoughts on his attractiveness away; this was for business, not pleasure. “I was just wondering if you’d mind singing one of the songs for us, that way we can get a feel for the melody you had in mind.”

Again, Atem seemed to swallow something in this throat as a hand reached up to briefly play with one of the flat triangles dripping from his ears. “I suppose I could do that, but, do you mind if I play my violin with it? I’ll find it easier to sing with some music.”

“Of course,” you waved an eager hand, egging him on before handing him back the music sheet in your hand.

His eyes scanned the pages, reminding himself of what song it was before nodding his head and reaching down to the instrument case beside the armchair. Jonouchi had made a comment about Atem carrying his violin everywhere, trying to set a joking mood, but it just caused a flushed Atem to mumble about how he had just picked it up from getting its weekly tuning.

Once Atem was standing, violin in hand, he took a deep breath to collect himself. Then, after two slow heartbeats, he began to play.

The first note was a sorrowful one, long, like a quiet, mournful hum, his slender fingers pulsing to create a wave effect on the sound. Then he was singing. His tone came out like a deep, almost breathy moan, letting the lyrics flow like a story at first- before his tone rose and belted out the chorus.

Atem was captivating, pulling you in with every line, every inflection, making you want to hold your breath lest the sound of it distract from the song. He kept his eyes closed, lost in the music his hands and mouth crafted, and the longer the song went on the more he seemed to relax, to lean into his own notes.

You blinked suddenly, realizing that your mouth had been hanging open just in time to close it before Atem ended his performance on another soaring note and breathy lyric. He stayed like that for a moment, catching his breath, basking in the lingering sound of his song.

Finally, his eyes blinked open and shifted to gauge everyone’s reaction. You weren’t the only one left in awe.

“Holy shit,” Honda breathed.

Yugi’s beaming smile was at maximum sunshine as he leaned into you and whispered, “That’s the song I heard him sing at the theatre, isn’t it beautiful?!”

You nodded and opened your mouth to say something but Anzu beat you to it.

“Can you do that again?” she asked, eager, as she jumped up and walked to her keyboard.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you asked, also bouncing to your feet and joining her.

Anzu smiled back at you, “Keeping that longer intro and adding keys to it?”

“Yes!” you turned to Jonouchi- who was still staring at Atem like he didn’t quite believe the man was standing there. “Jou, add some drums? Something steady and subtle at first, drawing everyone in before the lyrics start and-”

“-and picking up when the chorus kicks in?” he finished, snapping to attention in an instant, “You got it!”

With that Jonouchi vaulted off the back of the couch, plopping onto the stool at his drum set. Atem was still standing there, now looking a bit bewildered and amused as he watched everyone get to work, perhaps some pride shining in his eyes that his music had inspired it.

“Atem?” you asked, tone gentle and drawing his attention back to you, “Can you play that again?” you repeated Anzu’s question, seeing as how she was fully engrossed in her keys now.

Again, the man seemed hesitant, “Shouldn’t you be taking over, you’re the lead singer after all.”

“Dude, we have to keep that violin track,” you insisted, finding your voice breathy as you pointed at Atem, “It’s perfect for the song, it’s deep and beautiful and-” speechless, you gave an exaggerated chef’s kiss to emphasize just how much you meant what you were touting.

The expression earned you a smile from the violinist, a hint of bashfulness mixing with the fresh and rising pride. “Alright, if you think it will improve the song.” With that, Atem lifted his violin, took another deep breath, and started the song again.

***

It was strange how no hands had officially shaken, no one even told Atem he was hired, but that session was immediately followed up by the band asking when his next free day was and asking him to come back for another practice session. Atem had never intended on actually playing with the band, but, when they acted so enthralled with his playing, he could hardly say no.

The next time they got together (almost a week after their first meeting) Atem found himself just as nervous as when he first met them. Parking outside their studio, he found his chest heating up with some anxiety. Atem never was good around people, after all.

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

He rubbed his hands against the steering wheel, letting out a long breath and holding it a moment, before making himself grab his violin case and climb out of the car. His feet crunching on the gravel driveway grounded him a bit and he had managed to calm down slightly before knocking on the studio door.

I've been so worried, you've been so still

Barely beating at all

He heard the sound of laughter coming closer on the other side of the door and a moment later it opened, revealing you in the doorway and more laughter echoing yours in the next room.

“Atem, there you are! Come on in,” you stepped aside and waved an inviting arm.

Atem felt the heat in his chest climb up his neck, “Sorry, am I late?”

“Huh?” You then waved your hand again as you shut the door behind him, “Oh no don’t worry, we just got here early, that’s all.”

He heard someone else call his name before he even got to the room where everyone was sitting, and by the time he did enter, the whole band was waving and greeting him. He cleared his throat before nodding back to everyone and saying a weak ‘hello’ before you spoke again.

“Come on, sit down and chill for a bit before we get started,” you waved at a beat-up arm chair even as you perched on its armrest.

Atem realized with a quick look around that there was nowhere better for you to sit and you were likely offering him your own seat. “Oh, that’s alright, I don’t want to steal your seat-”

Before his offer to sit on the floor was out, you shook your head, “Dude, we can’t have our muse sitting in a creaky fold-up chair, at least sit on the other arm so I don’t topple it!” You laughed again as Honda made some comment about how a topple would probably bust the thing in half.

His cheeks were hot now, but he took the offer with grace (or at least, as much grace as he could muster) and perched himself on the other armrest, setting his violin on the actual seat. Atem also remembered how last time, he had been offered the armchair while Anzu took the creaky fold-up chair. Everyone here really seemed to care about making him comfortable.

Hello, my old heart

It's been so long

Since I've given you away

When was the last time he met anyone who had greeted him with such...openness? Such compassion. And a whole group of someones at that...

He cleared his throat again, trying to draw himself out of his wandering thoughts. “So, are we just going to work out more of the music today?”

And every day, I add another stone

To the walls I built around you

To keep you safe

Everyone seemed to respect his want to get down to business, perhaps thinking that he had other engagements, and only chit-chatted for a handful of minutes, before getting down to their rehearsal. It went well, just as the previous session had, and Atem found himself in awe of how well the creative process of making notes together flowed. Just like that first day, everyone seemed to work off of each other so well, bounding ideas left and right, almost always being on the same page. Even when they weren’t, there were just a few goodhearted jabs and sighs before working everything out.

Again Atem found himself shaking his thoughts away. He really should stop, it wasn’t wise to get attached to this process, these sessions, these people. After all, he was just their ghostwriter, nothing more.

Oh, don't leave me here alone

Don't tell me that we've grown

For having loved a little while

He found himself smiling again despite himself, when you started throwing popcorn kernels at Jonouchi; retribution for a comment about how you needed to change the chords up in the third chorus.

“I’m not changing it,” you said with your tongue sticking out, all while Jou looked affronted at your kernel bombing. “It’s a steady beat, that’s the whole point! Right, Atem?”

At the sound of his name, Atem’s eyes went wide, “Uh- What?”

“Eh, don’t drag him to your side!” Jonouchi pouted, tossing some popcorn from his lap back in your direction.

“I’m not dragging, I’m asking his opinion, there’s a difference,” you said matter of factly, then turned back to Atem, who was sweating a bit now, “What do you think, Atem? Are the same chords during the third chorus too boring? Or does it fit the subtle, powerful nature of the song?”

“You’re leading his answer!” Jonouchi countered, again looking appalled, then squawking as you tossed more popcorn at him.

Atem was a bit distracted by the way Honda kept laughing as Jou picked kernels out of his shirt, but eventually he managed to swallow thickly and answer your question. “I actually like the way you have it now, if I’m being honest.”

You beamed at him, stuck your tongue out at Jonouchi in victory, then held the popcorn bowl out to Atem. “Thank you, my muse! Here, have some brain food.”

His face was heating up again at nickname- or, dare he say, endearment? However, even as he blushed, and took a handful of popcorn, he couldn’t keep that smile from making yet another appearance.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

When everyone called the day's session to an end, Atem tried not to feel...disappointed. Stop that , he told himself again, this was not something to get attached to. As everyone packed their notes away, Honda started asking about dinner.

“Heeey if I give you a ride to work, think you can get me a discount on nachos again?” he asked, turning to you with an eyebrow wiggle.

You scoffed, “Dude, the boss was barely okay with that one time I did it, I can’t convince her again. But I can just buy your nachos if you really want.”

“Where do you work?” Atem found himself asking, far too late to stop himself from getting involved.

“Oh- ever heard of The Mark? It’s a bar downtown.”

Atem shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. Admittedly, the only bar he had been in since college was the high-end one in his apartment building.

You didn’t seem to take notice of his embarrassment though and just shrugged, “It’s only popular to a certain crowd. Anyway,” you continued, turning back to Honda, “give me a ride and I’ll buy you nachos.”

“Okay, all this talk of nachos has me hungry,” Jonouchi groaned, “Let’s go with em, Yug.”

Anzu perked up at that, nodding to you as she said, “You know, I’ve really been craving your specialty daiquiris. Jou, got room in your truck for me?”

“Sure,” the drummer shrugged as everyone started milling towards the door.

Yugi was smiling brightly as he held the door open for everyone, “Guess it’s a band outing now! Atem, you want to join? You can follow us to the bar, it isn’t far.”

As his feet were once again crunching on the gravel drive, Atem had to stop. He looked back to the group, ready to see at least one of them giving an uneasy expression at the invitation, if not an outright protest.

Instead, he saw Anzu nodding her head eagerly while Honda locked up the studio. Neither you nor Jonouchi looked wary of the suggestion and instead just looked to him for an answer.

You must have thought he needed further prompting, because you said, “Hey, our ‘girls night’ plate of nachos is more than big enough for all of you.”

Atem had to swallow another something in his throat. All of you were already inviting him out for drinks?

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

“I- sorry, I have to get up early in the morning. Thank you, though.” Atem could only cast his eyes to the ground during the half-lie.

How is it being locked away?

He saw something flicker in Yugi’s eyes, but he was quick to hide it with a smile. “Okay, maybe next time.”

Your smile matched Yugi’s as everyone headed to Jou’s truck and Honda’s bike, “Have a good night, Atem.”

Don't you worry, in there you're safe

“See you next week,” Anzu waved.

All he could manage was a nod as he turned towards his own car.

And it's true, you'll never beat

But you'll never break

It only took one more session to get the rest of the music figured out, and then it was time to record. Atem was interested in the process, how the five of you set up the sound equipment, what programs you used, he even asked you how you had installed padding to improve the sound quality.

The video part of the recording would be left for later, right now it was just the song to worry about- though you did make a point to tell Atem that you wanted to discuss setting ideas for the video soon. Atem felt his heart swell a bit at that. Not that he wanted to admit it, but he was glad that you wanted to involve him in every step of the song. This song in particular, this first one that had so enthralled Yugi first, was likely one of the more personal ones Atem had written.

Your voice rose with the chorus, fingers dancing gracefully against the bridge of the guitar, and Atem found himself admiring how well suited your voice was to his lyrics. A perfect fit. Though you likely had no way of knowing the background behind this song or why Atem had written it, you belted the lyrics with passion and depth, cared for every bar as if you were singing from the depths of your heart.

Maybe you were. Music spoke to more than just those who wrote it, perhaps not in the same ways, but that hardly mattered.

He heard the way the ending lyric stole your breath, and his violin hummed its final note with you in a harmony Atem had admired a dozen times during these rehearsals. When the last note ended, everyone waited a moment, seeming to hold their breaths, before daring to move. When everyone did, Jonouchi was already bounding over to the computer hooked up to the recording mics. With a few clicks and a quick look over something on the screen, the blonde gave a clap of his hands.

“We got it! That should be all we need for a high quality recording.”

Everyone cheered or hooted at that, and Yugi made a comment about finally having something new to give their fans. Atem was smiling with the rest of them, but he was failing to ignore the way his chest ached just a bit. The song was done, and, unless they asked him to join them on stage, Atem supposed this was the last time he would play with the band.

Writing songs for them was all nice in of itself, but, despite all his personal warnings not to, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown a bit attached to these evenings and nights with the band.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

A sudden call of his name had Atem jolting back to the present, and he saw you standing beside him, a hint of concern creasing your brow. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-” he cleared his throat, “-yes, I’m alright,” he lied, just as he had lied to deny himself the after-work drinks weeks ago. “I was just thinking, we got so caught up in recording this song, that none of you got the chance to discuss if any others were to your liking.”

“What, any of your other songs?” Honda asked, and when Atem nodded, he literally waved the comment off, “Dude, I’m pretty sure we liked all the examples you gave us, right guys?”

“Definitely!” Yugi didn’t miss the chance to boost Atem’s ego (or rather, soothe any worries). “We actually looked over your other songs the other day, and all of us agree we want to record all of them. I told you you were a perfect fit for us!”

The words, as well as the wink Yugi gave, did make Atem smile, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the root of his woe. “I’m glad they fit with the band so well. If you want to know the melodies or themes I had in mind for any of the other songs as well, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

That seemed to give everyone pause.

Nothing lasts forever

Atem watched as they began giving each other looks, very pointed looks, in turns, and he couldn’t ignore the sinking sensation in his chest. They seemed to silently agree on something a moment later, because Anzu spoke up as her eyes turned back to Atem.

“Actually, we were talking about that a lot too…”

Some things aren't meant to be

Atem swallowed hard, heart starting to pound in his ears. Perhaps he wasn’t good enough, perhaps they thought him too pretentious, or maybe he had overstepped the boundaries of his role here, maybe he and his violin didn’t-

“How would you feel about joining the band for the whole album?”

But you'll never find the answers

Until you set your old heart free

Again, your voice put a break on Atem’s reeling thoughts, and he had to blink to collect himself again. “I- you mean, you want me to play for the other songs as well?”

More looks were exchanged, quick ones this time, before Yugi chimed in next. “We talked it over a lot the past week and we all agree that you gel with us pretty well! And not only that, but your violin really adds a lot to our music, we’d really love for you to record more songs with us, not just write them.”

Until you set your old heart free

Now Atem’s heart was pounding in his ears for a whole other reason. He almost wanted to smack himself when he felt the widest, most giddy grin he ever remembered smiling spread across his face.

“I would like that very much,” he said, cheeks going a bit warm when everyone was returning his smile.

Hello, my old heart

“So what are we waitin’ for?” Jonouchi jumped in, all enthusiasm and eagerness, “What song are we doing next?”

That sparked conversation, and everyone started chiming in with their votes almost immediately, Yugi and Anzu even digging out Atem’s sheet music for references. Atem could only take the scene in with a smile that was widening the more he watched them bicker good-heartedly.

And he was glad he had gotten attached to this process, these sessions, to these people.

I wanna share it with you

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh band au #series: a thousand songs #atem #yami yugi

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years ago

Text

Reflecting Light

Chapter Five

Watching sunrises up in the air was one of Remus’ new favorite things. They were also usually high enough for him to touch clouds or grab at birds, both of which he had done before.

He had done it almost every day for the now couple weeks he’d been on the ship, and it hadn’t gotten old yet. Every now and then someone joined him, usually Jackson or Stella, as the only other morning people on the ship. The three of them often ended up making breakfast after the sun rose, and they had many deep probing conversations about life and how much they missed ketchup.

Remus felt more at home on the ship the longer he stayed there, and after a while he started to feel like, strangely enough, he was starting to matter to these people. It didn’t stop him from missing home. It did solidify his feelings against going back.

He also got the sense that he was getting closer to Janus and Virgil than most others on the ship were, though he wasn’t really sure why that was happening. He definitely didn’t mind, as the rest of the crew had started to matter to him too, and that very much included them. Maybe especially them, as a matter of fact. But he couldn’t be sure if the feeling was mutual until the day Janus offered to teach him sword fighting.

“What? Why?” Remus asked, tightening the rope he was tying down.

“Just so you know how to fight,” Janus said, and something in Remus froze. “We have run into our fair share of enemies on our travels, and we’re pushing our luck the longer we go without seeing any. I just want you to be able to defend yourself.”

I already know how to fight, Remus thought, at the same moment the opposite half of his brain screamed I don’t want to fight!

He swallowed. “Okay,” he said, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice as much as he could.

Remus had seen others carrying around various weapons before, and he’d correctly assumed they’d just kept them in their rooms. He hadn’t assumed there would be a crate full of various other weapons. He eyed the morningstar that he’d definitely be coming back for later as Janus searched through it for a sword that he thought would work for Remus.

After a moment, he pulled a couple out and offered them to him. “Which one of these feels better?” he asked.

Remus took them one at a time and shifted it around in his hands, until he handed Janus back one of them and kept the one felt better, which coincidentally happened to have a curlier and fancier handle, and Remus very much approved of this.

“Alright, let’s do this on the deck,” Janus said, closing the crate again and pulling his own sword out from his belt. Remus had never really gotten a chance to look at it before, but it was very obviously Janus’ sword. It had snakes carved all over the handle that matched the tattoos on his face, and Janus held it naturally enough that it looked like he was made to hold it.

Everyone else seemed to realize what was happening once they both made it out to the deck, which Remus honestly couldn’t blame them for given the fact that they were both holding swords.

“Okay, try and copy my stance,” Janus said, crouching down in a pretty typical sword fighting stance that Remus could easily mirror.

Okay, so look. Sword fighting wasn’t actually one of Remus’ best skills. He had of course trained how to fight with a weapon, but he was better with just his hands, or with blunt force weapons, hence that morningstar he was going back for. But that didn’t mean that he’d never held a sword before, like Janus seemed to think. How was he supposed to make this work?

He crouched down and tried to get the stance a little bit off. It seemed to convince Janus enough if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“Shift your right foot a little closer,” he said, and Remus did so, after which Janus gave an approving nod.

“Okay, I’m going to start slow.”

Oh, by all means, please do.

Remus tried to move sloppily enough that he would miss a couple of swings, and he thought he did alright, but Janus still seemed impressed.

“You sure you’ve never fought with a sword before?” he asked.

Remus blocked his swing and moved forward to counter, trying to decide how to respond as he did so.

“I mean, I have fought with like, my hands before,” he said finally. “I learned how to dodge. I got into a lot of fights as a kid, which I’m sure will shock you.”

“Never could have seen it coming,” Janus said with a smirk, blocking Remus’ next swing.

Remus’ skill being better than Janus thought it was meant Janus started upping the difficulty as they kept going, and the others around the deck started watching too, staying out of the way.

Remus figured he probably could really learn something from this, and he tried to watch what Janus did and parrot him back to him if he saw something he didn’t already know how to do. They moved around the deck faster as they went, until they were actually fighting somewhere closer to Remus’ skill level, with Remus blocking and parrying and swinging back at him fairly quickly.

“You’re not bad at this,” Janus said with an impressed smile.

“You said that already,” Remus said, hoping Janus wouldn’t get suspicious about that.

“No, I meant learning.”

“You can be bad at learning?”

“You can absolutely be bad at learning,” Janus said. “Mostly by not trying. But you’re clearly paying attention.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, trying to shut up the tiny nervous voice in the back of his head for once that kept saying he’d be found out. “In that case, why don’t we see if I can win?”

Janus grinned. “Oh, yeah? You’re on.” He started moving faster, enough that Remus had to take a moment to adjust. Janus’ sword moved towards his hand, and Remus didn’t move quite fast enough, hissing as the sword cut across the skin and yanking it back to his chest.

Janus slowed down slightly. “You alright?”

Remus grinned at the change of pace and swung his sword around Janus,’ knocking it out of his hands and down into the deck.

Janus blinked in surprise down at the sword, then looked back up at Remus.

The others around the deck started to cheer, and Remus grinned around at them.

“What— hey, you liar! You caught me off guard!” Janus cried.

Remus grinned back at him “Mmm-hmm, sure.”

“I just started teaching you this morning, no one’s that good.”

“Maybe you’re just that bad,” Remus said.

“I am offended,” Janus scoffed. “You have no idea what you’re doing!”

“And yet I beat you,” Remus said, swinging the sword over to rest on his shoulders and starting up to where Virgil was steering the ship from the wheel, and giving high fives to people as he passed.

“Alright, alright, back to work!” Janus called as he followed, and most people listened, although they were still smiling as wide as Remus was.

“Hey, Remus,” Virgil said with a smile of his own that meant he’d clearly been watching. “How’s the sword lesson going?”

“I won,” Remus said, at the same time Janus said, “He cheated.”

“Did not!”

“You can’t pretend to be hurt just to catch me off guard!”

“That can’t help me that much,” Remus said, grinning at Janus.

“Yeah, he’s right Jan, suck up your pride and admit that you lost,” Virgil said, starting to grin himself.

“Never.”

“I’m better than you,” Remus sang.

“Lies and slander.”

Remus and Virgil both laughed, and Virgil looked back down at the compass they were traveling on and readjusted the wheel.

“Besides, who said I was lying?” Remus said, waving his injured hand.

Janus stopped looking irritated instantly. “Wait, did I actually get you? It’s not deep, is it?”

Remus blinked, surprised at the tonal shift. “What? No, it’s fine,” he said, waving it off. “I can wrap it later. It’s no big deal. Well, no more than the fact that I used it to win a sword fight.”

Janus didn’t say anything for a moment, instead clearly thinking something over. Virgil was looking at him too, and now Remus wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

“Remus, can I get some clarification on something?” Janus asked finally.

Remus swallowed nervously. “Okay?”

“This is the second time I’ve seen you brush off an injury, along with the time at Remy’s shop, and both times you’ve seemed surprised that anyone even cares. Do you not think that we would care if you’re hurt?”

Remus had no idea how to respond to that. “I mean… no one ever really has before,” he settled on finally. When Janus looked even more concerned, he quickly amended, “I mean, because there were so many kids where I grew up, you know. Just… not really enough time for someone to care.”

“Dude,” Virgil said, sounding just as concerned. Remus glanced over at him. “That’s fucking awful.”

“It… is?”

“Yes,” Virgil said firmly. “Someone should have cared, Remus. It’s not fair to leave you to learn how to deal with everything yourself.”

“I mean… Patton,” Remus said hesitantly, trying to come up with a way to talk about this and still hide where he was from. “Patton was another kid I lived with. He was the one who taught me how to patch myself up. He cared.”

This seemed to calm Janus and Virgil down a little.

“Okay,” Virgil said with a nod. “That’s good. Just… please understand that we are going to care if you get hurt, Remus. We’re not going to just let it happen.”

Remus blinked, trying to consider that idea. That made it sound like they weren’t going to hurt him on purpose. How did they intend to deal with him when he screwed up?

Remus paused as he thought back. Janus had talked about that before, about finding an alternative way of letting Remus know when he messed up. Is that… is that what he meant? Holy shit, how nice were these people?

Well, Remus certainly wasn’t going to complain. That sounded way too nice to complain about. No wonder everyone on this ship cared about him, if they were all such freaking angels.

Right, he should probably reply to Virgil, who was still looking at him. “Uh, okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his arm to give his hands something to do. “Thanks.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely something you need to thank us for,” Janus said sarcastically, as if they weren’t being nice enough already. He nudged Remus gently in the side and walked over to lean against the railing behind the wheel. “Seriously, though, your hand isn’t badly hurt?”

“Nah, not at all,” Remus said, moving to join him. “I was pretending to be in pain in order to win a sword fight.”

Janus shot him a playful glare. “Dirty trick.”

“How is it my fault that you two care about me? I’m just using that horrendous mistake to my advantage.”

Virgil laughed. “Yeah, Janus, this is really all your fault for having a heart.”

Janus sighed. “Why do I care about you two again?”

“You love us,” Virgil sang, leaning towards Janus. “You big softie.”

“I will not tolerate such slanderous accusations in my presence.”

“Oh, so we can call you a softie all we want when you’re not around?” Remus asked innocently.

Janus shook his head, affronted. “You’re both so mean.”

“Nah, you’re just a sore loser,” Remus said, sticking his tongue out.

Janus opened his mouth to make some other kind of protest, but was cut off by Virgil spinning the wheel and jerking the whole ship slightly to the left.

Cries of surprise rang out below.

“Virgil,” Janus huffed. “Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously petty you are?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Virgil said, jerking the ship to the right. “I’m trying to focus on flying.” He jerked the ship again and Remus laughed.

“Okay, give me the wheel,” Janus said, elbowing Virgil out of the way and setting the ship back on course. “It’s a miracle anyone on this ship still considers me an authority.”

“And when my plan is complete, they never will again,” Virgil said casually, moving over to lean next to Remus against the barrier.

Remus laughed again. “Careful, Janus, it sounds like you’ve got a mutiny on your hands.”

“Betrayed by Virgil,” Janus said, shaking his head. “I thought I could at least count on my own brother to support me.”

Remus winced and looked away.

“Ah, so your list of people you’ve mistakenly cared for grows,” Virgil said, putting his arms behind his head and leaning back against them. “I think we can say you’ve learned a valuable lesson today.”

“Yes, that I should throw the both of you overboard,” Janus said with a deadpan glare.

Virgil laughed and moved his hands back from his head, shifting his gaze off the back of the ship in the way that meant this conversation was probably drawing to a close. Remus looked back, moving his gaze to watch the birds that were chasing them, and decided he was alright with that. He was alright with all of this.

He sighed and tucked his hands against the railing to lean on. He’d stop missing his family eventually. Besides, he liked this family, in all the ways it was starting to feel like one. Remus could be content with that, in the same way a village in the middle of a drought could be content after a short rainfall. It would be good. He would be good. He just needed a little time, that’s all. His worries and missing of everyone else would fade.

Chapter Six

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #pirates #rebellion #angst #abuse #tw abuse #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #my fic

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justimagineitblog · 5 years ago

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REQUEST: Derek Hale x Reader - “Soulmate”

Hi loves! This was a request from an anonymous reader!

It ended up being wayyyy longer than I intended and I had so much fun writing Derek like this.

LOTS OF FLUFF AND SOFT! DEREK !!!

I hope you enjoy xxx

“God could this kid take any longer”, I hiss to myself as I wait in the cold, quiet room. I was supposed to have picked Scott up and driven him home half an hour ago. I should have known it would come to this, Scott couldn’t be on time to save his life.

Impatiently I pace the room, reading the names of all the books on the shelves for what feels like the hundredth time just for something to do. I’ve succumbed to the riveting task of counting how many tiles are on the floor when suddenly the door to the room swings open. I shoot my head up towards the person in the door way in shock. But it’s not Scott…

“Oh shit, sorry,” she apologises quickly, not realising anyone was in here “I just came to get this…” her voice trails off as she reaches for one of the books off the shelf.

My lips part, and I have every intention to speak, but I just… can’t.

She stares back at me, blinking rapidly from behind her glasses.

She shakes her head quickly, breaking our eye contact “Sorry again” she apologises and rushes out of the room, the door closing behind her.

Holy. Shit. Who was she?

She was… stunning. Although I didn’t see much past her eyes. Wide and round, staring straight back into mine. Unwaveringly. Like for a moment we just… clicked.

I shake my head.

Jesus Derek. Get yourself together. She is a stranger. Your paths crossed for a minute, maximum. Relax, man’

My mind races, but one thought cuts through the rest.

Did she feel that too?

Suddenly, the door bursts open again and this time it is Scott.

“I am so sorry” He begins explaining as he walks over to me “Deaton needed extra help with his patient and I had to stay, seriously I can’t I mess this up man I need this job-“

He pauses, looking me up and down like I’m crazy.

“Are you good, man?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry I just-“ I pause shaking my head as if that’s going to get her out of my mind “I must have fallen into a deep sleep waiting for you” I shove him brotherly, recovering quickly from my trance.

He rolls his eyes “I’ll pay you extra alright”

“Yeah you will” I nod, trying to act like my normal self as we leave the building.

The air and energy around me feels heavy now, especially as we leave the clinic. Like there’s something pulling me down, or rather, pulling me back. Is it pulling me back to her?

Scott rambles on in the car as we make our way through town to his house, and I give enough nods and mumbles in reply to seem like I’m listening. But I’m not. Even driving feels like I’m on autopilot. Every gear change. Every stop and start at traffic lights. I’d be lucky if I don’t just drive straight through a red light. Because my mind is not here. It’s with… her. Whoever she is. Whatever she is. Is she a werewolf? I can’t tell. It feels like nothing is clear but yet everything is clear at the same time.

I can’t shake it. That feeling. The way her eyes peered up into mine. The way my heart felt like it slowed down but some how sped up all at once. I felt paralysed. I couldn’t even talk. But I wanted to. So badly. I wanted to ask her who she was. Where the hell she had come from. And where had she been my whole life?

I’m ripped away from my thoughts abruptly by Scott’s voice.

“Derek… Derek!” he calls to me, his voice sounds like its meters away when he’s just next to me in the passengers side.

I snap my head towards him.

“We’re here man…” he says, looking me over like I’m crazy again.

I look up to see we are stopped out the front of his house. Thank god. At least we made it here alive.

“Dude what is going on with you?” He turns further in his seat to face me “I know you’re normally quiet but… not like this”

I shake my head, hanging it in defeat. I’m going to sound like a complete idiot. None of them are going to take me seriously now. I’m supposed to be… well… Derek. I’m not supposed to be the guy who falls for a girl he saw for a mere minute.

“Who was that girl?” I finally ask with a sigh.

Scott stares at me as I stare straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Uh,” I hear him chuckle under his breath “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific…”

“From the clinic!” I stress, knuckles whitening around the steering wheel as my grip tightens.

“From the animal clinic… I don’t know, when did you meet her?”

“Today Scott, while I was waiting for you. She came into the room and we-“

“You what?” Scott asks in concern, his brows furrowing “What did you do?”

“Nothing! That’s just the thing, nothing happened” I shake my head “Well something happened…”

“Wait you don’t mean Y/N do you?” Scott finally catches on, sitting up straight in the seat.

“I don’t know Scott that’s why I’m asking you…” I growl, getting more and more frustrated as the time goes on.

“Y/N was the only one working besides me today Derek… it was her”

My breathing steadies. Y/N echoes and bounces around in my head. Repeating over and over. Y/N.

“Derek you’re not giving me much here, what happened?”

“When I was waiting for you she came into the room and… I don’t know Scott something just happened between us. I can’t describe it. But I can’t forget it. Whatever it is…”

“Do you think she’s… a werewolf?” Scott’s voice trails off as he begins to question the girl he thought he knew.

I shrug, lost for words.

“I don’t know, I don’t know if that’s what I was sensing or if it’s something else… Whatever it is I’ve never felt this before…”

“Did she say something to you?”

“No we just…”

“Connected?” He asks

I look over at Scott. This sounds so stupid. I must sound so stupid. But I nod anyway. That’s exactly what it felt like. When Scott notices I’m sitting there defeated and confused, he begins to fill in the blanks.

“She’s only new. Moved here a few weeks ago. But she’s… brilliant. She worked in another clinic where she used to live. Gives Dr. Deaton a run for his money… And me” He laughs and then pauses “You don’t think she could be your-“

“Scott, stop” I reply instantly, cutting him off. I know what he’s about to say.

“Okay, okay” He holds up his hands in surrender “I’m just saying… she could be”

I don’t say anything. I just look straight ahead.

“You should talk to her, she goes to school with us”

At this rate, I don’t even think I could do anything more than blink at her. She had me completely stunned. I doubt I could muster up the words.

“What and ask her if she’s my mate?” I blurt out, scoffing.

Scott stares at me, a smile growing on his face “You said it man, not me”

I open my mouth to speak, but I’m too flushed and embarrassed.

“Sleep on it yeah?” Scott pats me on the shoulder as he gets out of the car “You’re Derek, you have a way with the girls, everyone knows that”

I smile dryly. Sure. Maybe I do. But those girls weren’t like this. They weren’t Y/N.

A WEEK LATER

“It’s gotta be in one of these books, somewhere” Scott says as we all rummage through the books on the shelves.

We need to find out what creature it was that was killed. Whether it was werewolf or not. And Scott is betting the answer to what skeletal remains we found is in one of Dr. Deatons many books.

“Scott how many books does this guy have?!” Lydia exclaims next to me.

“Too many” Stiles replies dryly “Way too many”

“Look just grab some books each and start looking through them, alright” Scott orders us as he lays out books for us to scan through on the table. We all stand around, taking one each.

“It’s gonna be a long night” Stiles groans as he opens up the giant book in front of him.

I begin scrolling through my own book, but all I can think about is Y/N.

I’d be lying if I said the past week wasn’t torture, trying to get her out of my mind. Let alone being here in the clinic, in the same room, where we first met. Now all I can think of is the way we looked at each other. I keep glancing over at the door way, seeing flickers of her there. Like a ghost.

Suddenly, Scott’s phone vibrates on the table, and he glances at it before his eyes shoot up at me.

“What’s going on Scott?” Lydia asks “Is it Allison?”

“No, it’s Y/N, one of the Nurses, she’s here for her overnight shift” he swallows hard.

The sound of her name sends a jolt through my body.

“Get rid of her Scott, she can’t be here”

“I can’t, she’s gotta check the patients, I completely forgot”

Stiles gives him an ‘are you serious’ face and Scott shrugs sheepishly, getting up to leave the room.

I stare back down at my book, my heart pounding. Part of me want’s to leave, avoid this feeling that she gives me. But the other part of me is dying with the anticipation and thought of being able to see her again.

I feel like hair on the back of my neck prickle and stand on end when I suddenly hear her voice on the other side of the door. I rub the back of my neck nervously.

“It’s a school project, I’m sorry, we’ll stay out of your way” Scott lies about why we’re here.

“I won’t tell Deaton if you don’t” she chuckles, and my neck grows hot under my hand.

Suddenly Scott bursts back into the room, watching me closely as he sits back down at the table.

“Sorted?” Stiles asks

“She doesn’t care, thinks we’re doing a project”

“We may as well be, I don’t even put this much effort into our homework” Lydia mutters as she closes her book and picks up another one from the centre of the table.

Suddenly something moves in my peripheral and my head shoots up, looking in its direction.

When I look up I can see Y/N walking through the clinic through the glass screen on the wall.

Everything slows down, like I’m watching her move in slow motion. My eyes follow her as she ties her hair up absentmindedly, making her way through the clinic. She moves from cage to cage methodically, reading the paper work for each patient.

This is the first time I’ve been able to take her in properly. For the past week I’ve wondered if she was maybe a figment of my imagination. Maybe I was losing it. But this confirms that I wasn’t. She’s just like I remember her. And the feeling is the exact same. The closest sensation I can compare it to is like a magnet. I’m captivated. Drawn to her.

My eyes drag over her lovingly as she begins adjusting one of the dog’s IV lines. She keeps him calm and relaxed while she works at the fluid bag. The dog gives her a playful lick, while she re wraps the bandaging on his leg. This sends her into a fit of laughter, causing everyone to look up from their books at her.

Without realising, a small smile grows on my own face. Like when she laughs I do.

“Derek?” I hear Lydia say, and I look over at her in shock. Oh god. I completely forgot where I was.

My lips part but I’m speechless, my eyes dart from Lydia to Stiles, who are both looking at me in confusion, their brows furrowed.

Next I look over at Scott for some kind of back up. I pray that he doesn’t bring up what happened last week.

“Dude what is wrong with your face?” Stiles asks, a mischievous smile on his face. Seeing me like this would be way to amusing to him. To all of them.

Without even meaning I quickly glance at Y/N before looking down in embarrassment, the hot feeling on the back of my neck returning.

Lydia follows my gaze and looks through the glass screen to find Y/N standing there.

“Hold on” Lydia says, starting to put the pieces together “Do you know her Derek?”

Stiles looks between me and Y/N, waiting for me to answer. But what can I say?

No I don’t know her but I’m completely infatuated with her and I don’t know why? They would never understand. When I don’t reply, Stiles immediately begins laughing, slapping his knee.

“Oh my god, Derek has a crush” he exclaims and I shoot him warning look, causing him to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter before I hit him.

“Derek is that true?!” Lydia sits up eagerly in her seat.

With all eyes on me, I shut down. I can’t answer.

“She might be his mate” Scott blurts out suddenly.

I look at him sitting across from me, my eyes wide with anger and embarrassment.

“What?!” Stiles and Lydia both ask in complete shock.

“Sorry” Scott smiles at me sheepishly. I shake my head at him.

“I never said she was my mate, okay” I reply suddenly, all of them staring at me and waiting for me to continue explaining myself.

“I- I don’t know what’s going on,” I sigh, looking down in defeat “I saw her for the first time last week. I was here to pick up Scott” I look up at him in annoyance briefly “And I ran into her for a split second and something… happened”

“Yeah it’s called a crush Derek” Stiles retorts in an amused tone.

“No, more than that…” I look back up at her through the glass and shake my head, unable to put it into words that would do it justice.

“And you haven’t spoken to her?” Lydia asks in confusion “Derek you need to talk to her if she’s your-“

“No. I can’t. I don’t even know if she is. I just don’t know what the feeling is-“

“They’re emotions! They’re good for you!” Stiles cuts in again.

“Stiles if you don’t shut up I will shut you up” I warn him

“See that’s the Derek I know” he replies.

“Derek they’re right though…” Scott says gently “Whatever it is that you’re feeling, don’t you want to know?”

I shake my head “Of course I do. But I can’t. She makes me… speechless. Like I’m paralysed”

“You could just try-“

“No Scott” I shake my head, slamming the book in front of me “Can we just do what we’re here to do, please”

There’s silence in the room.

I shove the book away, grabbing a new one. I open it and begin flipping through the pages, avoiding their eyes.

They stop persisting, and we all go back to searching for the picture we need.

Only minutes pass when I look up to find her, not even meaning to. Like I’m thinking of her subconsciously. Like I have another sense just for her. When I notice she’s not there, my heart sinks. She must have left.

Did I miss my chance? Were they right?

Suddenly she comes back into view. She hasn’t left yet. Without realising I sign in relief. Even to just watch her from afar is enough for me.

“Okay that’s enough” Lydia closes her book “Derek, this is painful to watch”

“And weird, I’m not used to seeing you like… this” Stiles adds

“Just go and see” Lydia tells him firmly “That’s all you have to do”

I stare at her, unable to fight back. She has a point. But I’m terrified.

“Look, all you have to do is tell her we need her to help us look for something in one of these books” Lydia says matter of factly.

“No, there’s no way we can get her involved in this”

“She’s not! As far as she knows, she’s helping for Scott’s extra curricular research project”

My internal battle rages as Lydia picks up one of the books and holds it out to me.

I take reluctantly.

Am I really about to do this?

“Derek” Scott says, catching my attention before nodding at me encouragingly.

Stiles gives me a thumbs up, with a smug grin on his face.

I shake my head at them as I get up from the chair.

“I hate you all” I say as I head towards the door.

I’m not sure what possesses me or forces me to do this, but despite all the fear in my body I open the door and leave the room.

With the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, I walk through the clinic to find her. I hold my breath, gripping the book tightly as I walk into the room I’ve been watching her in.

My racing heart stops when I realise she’s not there. I turn back to Stiles, Lydia and Scott who are watching me through the glass and throw my arms up in defeat.

Through the glass, Stiles raises his arm and points behind me. I turn my head to see the light on in one of the rooms. The office. I gulp hard.

I can’t go back now. I will never ever live this down. And they will only persist. And besides the terrifying unknown of why she has this effect on me, I’m starting to feel the familiar magnetic feeling again that draws me to her.

I turn and walk in the direction of the office, finally reaching the doorway. I look in and find her flipping through paper work, medical files and documents. I could stand here forever and just watch her thinking and biting her lip as she concentrates.

I take one final deep breath before I force out the only word I can say: “Y/N”.

She looks up at me, gasping slightly.

“Sorry, sorry” I stutter, realising I frightened her.

“It’s okay” she breathes, a small smile beginning to tug on the corners of her mouth.

I have to fight to drag my gaze of her lips and back to her eyes.

She adjusts her glasses, running a hand through her hair that she has let down and is falling over her shoulders.

Wait, is she just as nervous as me?

I shake my head, realising I’m just staring into her eyes again.

Words, Derek. Use your words.

“Uh, Scott was just wondering if you might be able to help him out uh,” I look down, hold the book out to her and praying my hands don’t shake “He needs to find an animal for a research project and he thought you might know what he’s looking for…”

I look back up at her to find she’s already looking up at me. When our eyes meet, she holds my gaze for a second before quickly looking down at the book.

“Yeah I, I can take a look, of course” She reaches out for the book, and I can’t believe how small and delicate her hands are next to mine as I hand it to her “What is it that he’s trying to find?”

“Well he’s not sure exactly, just that it’s a mix between a dog and a… well we don’t know exactly” I cringe. What the hell am I saying. “I now it sounds stupid but its some extra curricular project…”

I’m half expecting her to look at me like I’m crazy, when suddenly she chuckles softly.

She looks up at me, a smile on her face “A dog thing thats not quite a dog… Got it. I’ll see what I can do”

When she looks back up at me, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I want to stay here, just like this, and swim around in her eyes.

“I’m uh, I’m Derek, by the way” I quickly stutter, holding my hand out.

God. Why did I do that. A handshake? Really?

“Yeah, we met the other week” she takes my hand, shaking it softly “I remember”

“You do?” I ask anxiously.

She nods, biting down on her lip.

Suddenly I look down and realise we’re still holding hands.

I laugh awkwardly and so does she as we let go of one another hands. When our hands disconnect, I felt weird. Like her hand was supposed to be there.

I watch her closely as she looks at her hand before tucking it into her pocket and looking back up at me.

Did she feel that too? Did she feel all of it? From the first day up until this moment?

“I should-“ I begin to speak but don’t want to finish, I don’t want to leave her.

“You should get back” she smiles gently, nodding. Something about that gentle smile. That look. It’s like she knows me. Like she’s known me forever and she’s seeing straight through to the heart of me.

“Yeah,” I breathe “Uh, I’ll let Scott know you’ve got the book”

I take a deep breath and turn to leave the room, but before I’m gone, she calls my name.

“Derek?”

I freeze in my spot. Her voice saying my name makes it sound heavenly.

“Yeah?” I ask, waiting for her reply and holding my breath.

“Have we met before, like before last week?” She asks, her eyes hopeful.

“I’m not sure” I breathe “Why?” I dare to ask.

“No it just, feels like I know you” she shakes her head once the words leave her mouth, looking at the floor.

I stand there, staring at her speechlessly. Did she just say that?

“Sorry,” she chuckles nervously, changing the subject “Tell Scott I’ll call him if I find anything”

“I will” I nod, unable to say anything else. My heart is pounding and the lump in my throat is growing.

I wish I could tell her I feel the exact same way.

“Okay well, I’ll see you around?” She asks, and she looks almost nervous for my answer.

“Yeah” I chuckle softly “I hope so”

She bites down on her lip again as a big smile dawns on her face.

“Me too”

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years ago

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Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary: Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter

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