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mae-dwrites · 1 year ago

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Taking Flight - Chapter 13 - Oblivio

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October 8

“Oh my head,” the red-clad girl rubbed her temple as she squeezed her eyes. She finally opened them to see an illustration on the wall, a phone pointing to what looked to be a book. “Wha..”

She heard a groan next to her, “What happened?” The red and black-suited girl dropped a tube of lipstick she didn’t even realize she had.

“Ah!” She moved back into the corner away from the dirty blond. He was in all black with what looked to be leather. His eyes were screwed shut as he rubbed his head, he finally opened his eyes and saw the red-dressed girl.

“Who are you?” The blond asked, his head slightly tilted looking at her. He looked over her suit, the red really made her eyes pop.

“I’m,” she started confidently. “Uh, I-I don’t know,” she looked down at her hands trying to remember. She put them on her head and pulled on her pigtails, “I don’t remember my own name!”

The boy’s face scrunched up as he tried to remember his own, “Me-me neither.” He looked down at his own hands noticing the sharp claws, making him start examining his own suit, “Maybe we were at a costume party!”

“Uh maybe,” she said as she looked down at her own suit. “Pretty neat suits…” the girl mumbled, admiring the details and layers that looked like armor almost. Her head shot up when she heard beeping, his ring flashed in time with the beeping, “Hm, why is that flashing?”

He looked at his ring but looked up at her when another set of beeping started, “Your earrings too! We must shop at the same jewelry shop.” He smiled feelings as though he figured it out; the girl didn’t really believe that for the costume, but she kept that to herself as she felt her earrings. The jewelry shop part might not be far from the truth though.

“Are...we supposed to know each other,” she asked mostly to herself but was loud enough for the cat-themed boy to hear.

“I’d be surprised if we didn’t,” He smiled flashing his teeth, the smile was so wide it made the girl smile a little. His little fangs glinted in the light when she noticed them, Oh. The girl felt her face warm up a bit.

Suddenly the beeping went faster before bright pink and green flashed, they covered their eyes. After the lights were gone they blinked taking each other in now that they were in different clothes. The boy’s hair was blonder more yellow in shine, he had on a dark grey shirt with purple lines on it and a circle with a G in it. He had a white long-sleeved button-up over it, a pair of jeans, and bright orange shoes. The girl cringed looking at them, he looked nice the shoes went mostly well with it, but she didn’t like it.

The boy looked her over, her blue hair had become black with a dark blue hue to it, and her eyes went from the shiny bright blue to a duller shade not really shining with light anymore, but they still somehow shined despite it; looking like the ocean during a storm. She had on what appeared to be a white button-down with pink flowers decorating the sleeves. A black knitted vest was over the white shirt, she had on a pink pair of pants, and small black-pink flats, and a cute little purse. His mouth made an inaudible “oh” as he looked at her.

The girl screamed taking him away from looking at her, she jumped and slide behind him, “There are giant bugs! Mi-mice?” She held him by the shoulders almost shaking him, “Bug-mice!”

The “bug-mice” started to move, groaning. The red one had black dots and it opened its eyes, they shined just as the girl behind him had but were a deeper color. The black one groaned again and with a raspy voice said, “Whoa, I am starving right now.”

“Whoa,” the blond breathed out. He crawled over to the bug-mice, “Hi there! What exactly are you? Are you a genie? Like the ones in the lamps?”

“If I’m a genie shouldn’t I have a lamp?” The black cat-like creature squinted at the boy, “Besides who are you? And where am I?”

The girl was still in the corner that the blond had previously been in she looked at the creatures. She pointed at the red one, “What was that thing doing in my earrings?”

The red one puffed its cheeks out, “I am not a thing! I am, I am…” The red being gasped, “I don’t know what I am.” Her whole being seemed to droop, the girl frowned and stopped hugging the wall, lowering herself. The creature’s body gave a rumble, it hugged its body, “But I know that I am very hungry.”

The girl came over and squatted down and picked up the little red being and gave her a little tickle, “Aw, poor little, uh, no thing.” The red being giggled as the black cat sniffed the boy's shirt.

The blond stood up, “Okay so none of us remember who, or what, we are but we’ve gotta keep our heads steady. We may not know why but we will find—” His words got cut off as the elevator suddenly dropped down, the two teens almost hit the ceiling before the elevator stopped. They hit the ground all of them groaning as they brought themselves back upright as the lights flickered.

The girl took some breaths, her chest and face hurt from the impact. The boy rubbed his side and grimaced, that was really going to hurt later.

The lights flickered more noticeably, “What is it this time,” the girl muttered and she looked up at the ceiling as it dented, “We can’t stay here, we need to get out.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” The blond stated helping her up before they started to try and pry open the doors. The red creature turned to the black one, “Shouldn’t we try to help them?”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know the good thing in the boy’s shirt.”

The red one got up and floated, “Ooo.” The black followed her as she phased through the elevator.

“Huh,” he goes, “We seem to be far more exceptional beings than them.” The Ladybug looking one entered the top button of the elevator and then came out of the exit one. The door slid open with a ding, the girl blinked for a moment before smiling, “Thank you!”

The boy grabbed her hand and they ran, behind them the elevator shot down. A loud crash could be heard making them all jump, the doors then shut with a ding.

“Well that happened,” the girl said quietly staring at the doors. The boy squeezed her hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They followed exit signs until they finally found the stairwell, they ran down the steps. As well as they could without falling, the little creatures followed them down to the lobby. They ran to the last door with big smiles on their faces but they fell when they saw the front. The entire away was in chaos, shambles really. The lights were either out or flickering with broken glass. Tables and chairs were either in disarray or blocking the front door off, along with scaffolding it to help.

There was a metallic smell in the air, the boy swallowed taking a shaky breath deciding to ignore it. They looked around the room looking for other doors, but there weren’t any other exit signs.

The girl huffed at the lack of other exits, but they looked at the walls and a pit made itself known. The walls had cracks and chucks of drywall missing, following the cracks they went up to the ceilings. The boy gulped, “Well the exit is blocked.”

They look at each other the boy nervous now but the girl full of determination, “We’re just going to have to find another way out.”

He nods looking around the room when there was a huge banging noise, they both jump. They face the sound coming from the elevator, sucking a breath as something hits repeatedly trying to get out.

“And quick,” the girl murmured. The boy grabbed her hand again, “Over there!” He starts running making her flail before getting her footing. They entered the bathroom and the girl gently shuts the door so as to not give their spot away. She slumps against the wall, “Okay, so we’re stuck in a building with amnesia being chased by a—a thing that's obviously got it in for us big time.”

“Not to mention the two strange creatures who magically appeared when our costumes disappeared,” the boy said resting a hand on his hip and looking at said creatures.

“Uh, excuse me, but the creatures are hungry.” The black one spoke up, “Would you mind opening up your shirt to see what smells so good?

The blond complies and reaches into his pocket, “Camembert?” The black creature gasps and flies to it taking it from the boy’s hand, “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen…” The creature no sooner consumes the cheese with delight.

The dark-haired girl looks over at the red creature and opened her little purse. She pulls out a macaron and holds it out to her, “Will this do?”

“Yes,” they fly over and take it, “Thank you!”

The girl turns back to her purse and pulls out a card, “Huh, Marinette…Marinette! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” She smiled at her card and showed it to him.

The boy smiled and gave a bow, “Pleased to meet you, Marinette.” Marinette giggles as the boy starts patting himself looking for anything, his pockets weren’t that deep and reached in grabbing out a wallet and a phone. He opened the wallet and found a card in one of the slots. “Um Adrien,” He looked up at her. “I’m Adrien Agreste!”

“Well, it’s super nice to meet you too, Adrien,” she gave a curtsy and Adrien laughed. She looked at his hands and lit up and went back to her purse, “Of course! We still have our phones!”

Adrien put his wallet back, “Brilliant!” He opens his phone but just stares at it not knowing how to get in, his password along with the rest of his memories absent. He looked up to Marinette who was staring at her own phone and she looked up at him, “Is yours locked too?”

Adrien nodded with a sad frown. A thud sounded and the red one flew to the door phasing its head through. They came back in, “The thing’s coming this way!” Marinette and Adrien rush into a stall at the end, the little being following them.

“We need to find a way out of this building,” Marinette hissed at the blond. Adrien nodded, “And we will.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze with a smile. Marinette locked the door and then faced him again only to bump into him.

“Sor-sorry,” her face redded. “It’s fine,” Adrien smiled sliding back to give her room. Suddenly the door to the bathroom shot off its hinges, the two teens pressed themselves against the cold wall. “What do we do—?” Adrien started but was cut off by Marinette shushing him, she points to the vent in the stall. It was strangely big for a vent meant to be in a bathroom in Adrien’s opinion.

Marinette pointed to the toilet then made a line to the vent, Adrien made an “oh” before nodding. Marinette turned to the floating beings and spun her finger and pointed at the edges of the vent. They nodded and got to work as quickly as possible while the girl stood on the toilet waiting. The teens found it hard not to flinch as the thing slapped stalls open.

Marinette put her right foot on the piping before giving herself a push, Adrien grabbed her leg in hopes of steadying her. She started to pull herself up, Adrien followed what she did only he grabbed her leg while having his other hand pressed against the vent, he scrapped his feet against the wall hoping the thing didn’t hear him. Marinette moved ahead as Adrien made his way in, the little creatures screwed the screws back in before phasing through to rejoin them.

“Ugh, we will get you!” They heard through the vent send a shiver down Marinette’s spine. They looked back for a moment holding their breath but when the thing didn’t start ripping through they continued on.

“That was amazing Marinette!” Adrien said from behind her, “You really seem like someone who knows what to do at the right time.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” Marinette said her nervousness more evident in her voice than she would like.

•

Bridget couldn’t help but drag her hand down her face, she leaned against the counter and faced the tv again as the previous customer left.

Sabine had to take a moment after the day’s Akuma was reported to be at the Montparnasse Tower, coincidentally where Marinette’s class was taking a trip for the day. It was so they could “compare and contrast” where they usually take the American kids when they came to Paris and where they would be taken while in New York.

“Making entitled brats is what they’re gonna do,” Bridget grumbled under her breath. She turned to the front as a ding rang and plastered a smile, “Welcome to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie Patisserie, what can I get you today?”

“Hello, may I have a Canelé and Fao Go out and a bag of Palmier and Nun's puffs to go,” the profoundly tanned woman said, her voice smooth. Her long hair a wave down her back.

“Would you like those in separate bags?” Bridget asked as she set the two pastries on napkins for the woman. The young woman felt nervous under her meticulous gaze, a shiver ready to flow down her back.

“Yes, I would,” her voice almost purred. Bridget nodded as she opened two paper bags, “How many?”

“Three Palmier and four Nun’s puffs,” the dark-haired woman said as she glanced around the small space. Her jade eyes came back to Bridget as she held the bag out to her, “That will be $28.90, wait I mean €28.90.”

The woman held a bemused expression as she paid before taking the paper bags and picking up the pastries, “Not from here?”

Bridget chuckled, “What gave it away? The accent or the currency?”

“Your posture,” she stated in a casual fashion. She made strides to the front before turning back with a knowing smile, as if a victory secured, “Thank you for the pastries, Baihu.”

Bridget’s mouth went dry as the woman exited the room, a ringing sounded in her ears as there was a sudden plummet in her chest. A warm point with a chill around leaving a feeling of dread, she wasn’t wearing a pin with her name on it, let alone her given name. That woman was more than a visitor, and Bridget didn’t think she could deal with more on her plate than she already was.

There were only two ways to learn her given name, through her or through legal documents. She’d never met that woman from what she knew and no one but her siblings called her Baihu, so she had to have learned through legal documentation. Doesn’t mean she got it legally though.

Sabine came in with a smile, “Marinette’s okay!”

Tom poked out of the kitchen, “She is?”

Bridget spun around upon her entering, “Where is she?”

“I didn’t ask, I just assumed…” Sabine slumped against the wall and murmured under her breath. Bridget only caught “stupid,” “surface,” and “more.” Bridget took slow steps to her sister as Tom pulled her into a hug, not bothering to be careful with his flour-covered hands. Bridget gently took her sister’s hand and gave a small tug making the older woman shift against her husband until she was facing Bridget.

“She’s okay?” Sabine nodded. “Is she alone?” Sabine shook her head. “Where do you think she is?”

“At the Montparnasse Tower.”

“Then we know where to start if needed, and if push comes to shove I’ll use my resources,” Bridget gave a smirk, and squeezed her sister’s hand, “Ladybug and Chat Noir, while young, know what they’re doing. They’ve been fighting for so long I’m sure they have to have someone to help them at this point.”

If only Briget knew.

#taking flight #maribat #maribat fic #maribat fanfic #maribat marinette dupain cheng #bridget cheng #maribat adrien agreste #sabine cheng #adrienette #oblivio

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tearsoverfears · 2 years ago

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petrified

first time ever writing anything 😳

conrad x reader fluff :)

you've always been in and out of touch with your feelings. there would come times where you would barely feel anything at all and times where everything could consume you.

somedays were easier than others but when it rained, it poured.

today was a rainstorm. you found yourself lying in bed staring at the ceiling whilst your boyfriend slept next to you with his arm draped over your stomach. you finger mindlessly drawing little circles on his arm. his breathing slightly grounding you as you tried to pull yourself back to earth.

for some reason, everything felt too much today. it wasn't anything in particular but it was something. your mind just couldn't stop racing. you could feel the agonizing weight of it all sit on your chest.

you turn your head to check the clock sitting on the wooden dresser next to you. it read "5:30 am". slowly, you inch out of your boyfriends hold getting out of bed trying to avoid it from squeaking.

the moment your bare feet hit the wooden floors, he slightly tosses and turns. you hold your breath in anticipation that he'll stir awake. when he doesn't you find your slippers and slip on a hoodie of his that sat on his desk chair.

you leave his room making your way down the stairs, leaving to the beach. here you found your favorite spot to sit and watched the sunrise.

the cold sand underneath you held your body as the waves crashed amongst each other. the sky slowly being painted with the soft hues of purple and pink. if you squinted really tightly, the colors almost reminded you of a push pop.

you weren't too sure of how much time flew by as you sat there but you slowly began to hear footsteps behind you.

conrad.

conrad held a blanket around himself as his tired body lazily made it's way to you.

"baby, what are you doing over here?" his green eyes still holding a drowsiness from just waking up. he sat down next to you wrapping you in the same blanket with him. you lay your head in the space between his neck and shoulder as he left a soft kiss on your temple.

"I'm sorry if i worried you con, i just needed time to think." as soon as you finished your sentence conrad went through at least twenty different emotions.

but his face settled on a mix between sadness and confusion.

"no, no, not about us babe." you breathed. your hand finding his cheek to rub it, "I just- I don't know. I just couldn't sleep and-.. and it felt like my thoughts were beginning to consume me." you finished in what could be considered a whisper.

you were always uncomfortable when it came to talking about your feelings. you broke the eye contact and stared at the ocean, your hand still lingered with his touch but instead you played with the sand underneath you.

the both of you sat in silence both trying to find the words to provide comfort. his hand tapped the top of your thigh. when you looked at him he signaled for you to sit in front of him. he wanted eye contact, he wanted to watch your emotions as he was going to pour whatever he was going to to you.

you slowly crawled in front of him until you were sitting in front of his legs. he moved both hands to your jaw cradling your head. his leaned in slightly his green eyes looking in to your orbs. it almost felt as if he was trying to read your unbalanced soul.

"baby, you should've woken me up. you know I'm always here to help you, no matter what." you opened your mouth to speak but he quickly cut you off only for him to continue. "I already know what you're going to say 'but I didn't want to bother you'. and I need you to believe me when I say this you will never ever ever be a bother to me."

"I want to be there for every step of the way with you. good or bad. I love you." he kissed your nose causing you to giggle too.

"but in all seriousness, are you alright my love?" his expression hardened just a bit to where you can tell he wants to truth. as much as he loves you, he always wants to know how you're truly feeling.

you nod your head, wrapping your hands around his neck pulling him in for a kiss. it was soft and meaningful, both of your pouring your words into this action showing how much you both mean to each other.

" I love you", you whispered to his lips slightly running your hands through his wavy hair.

"I love you more pumpkin," he responded. he leans in for one more kiss. you lips touched his quick and lightly. his thumbs rubbing circles on your knees.

you hastily get up playfully pushing his shoulder. “now c’mon let’s go get all the good muffins.” as soon as your full stood, you take off into a sprint racing him to the front of the house.

“heyyyy,” he whined like a child. conrad was competitive and he hated the lead you suddenly gained on him.

he then stood racing you to get the good old muffins you both adored.

#tsitp fanfic #tsitp x reader #conrad fisher #belly x conrad #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #chris briney #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher fluff #team conrad #tears over fears #fluff #angst

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sinnamonrolle · 4 years ago

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[ the little moments] ♡ Leviathan

4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.

✿ part of a series now! ✿

❀ gender neutral reader ❀

“What are you making?” you asked, peeking over Levi’s arms.

“GAH!” Levi yelped. “BEGONE, DEMONS!—oh. It’s just you. Why did you sneak up on me??? It’s not fair for my poor heart, okay.”

Levi set down the spatula into the bowl and patted his chest a few times, clearly spooked by your unannounced arrival. You felt bad for scaring him, but his reaction was utterly adorable. There was a faint blush across his cheeks, and all you wanted to do was see it again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, giving his head a few pats for good measure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blush deepened at the contact between you two, but Levi didn’t push you away. He only turned his head and grumbled with a small pout, “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

You looked at the dough in the bowl, the cup of beaten eggs on the counter, and the bottles of whip cream neatly lined up to the side. “So, what are you making? Do you need any help?” you asked.

He perked up instantly, and all lingering signs from the scare vanished. As he whipped out his D.D.D. from his pocket, he began explaining to you.

“So, you see,” Levi began, his fingers moving furiously against the screen, “in the anime ‘The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl’, in one episode, Ruri-chan visited one of her human friends and they made cream puffs together, and as I was rewatching that episode, seeing Ruri-chan enjoying her cream puffs that she made with her own two hands also made me want to make my own cream puffs, because if I make it myself, then it’ll be like eating it with Ruri-chan, you know, but I’ve never made cream puffs before so I’m following a recipe and yeah. That’s where I am right now—Did you get all that? You look a little dazed.”

When Levi talked about something he’s passionate about, the purple in his eyes rose and fell in accordance to his emotions. It’s something that took you a while to notice, but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. For example, when Levi was sad, the purple swallowed most of the orange, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And when Levi was angry, and you meant really angry, only a tiny amount of purple circled his pupil. The bright orange consumed all other colors, and it almost seemed to glow. But when Levi was happy, that’s when his eyes were the warmest orange. The purple was mild, nestled underneath hues of oranges—you thought it was a beautiful combination of colors.

Like currently. You were utterly entranced by the way the orange seeped into the paler orange, pushing down the purple until all you could see was the sunset in his eyes. Too entranced that you appeared dazed to Levi, but not to the point that you didn’t listen to what he was saying.

When you refocused again, Levi turned away to the ingredients on the countertop, hands reaching for his headphones only to meet the collar of his cardigan. It seemed to be a habit of his. When he was nervous or feeling out of place, he often reached for his headphones to feel safe, to feel protected against the world. But he didn’t have them today, probably because he planned on baking and didn’t want them to get dirty or to get in the way.

“Of course,” Levi mumbled, tugging his cardigan closer to his body, “I shouldn’t expect a normie like you to understand, why did I even bother? There’s no way you would care about something stupid—”

“I was listening,” you said firmly. “By making cream puffs, you will feel like you’re eating them with Ruri-chan, right? It’s not stupid at all, Levi. I think the idea is adorable. Can we make them together?”

Levi spluttered and turned further away from you, red ears peeking out of his hair.

“That-that’s not fair! Acting so cute, especially with that head tilt! It’s like you’re trying to KO me!” Levi complained, but he finally turned to look at you. However, his eyes were constantly moving between the bowl of batter and your face. “Although… if it’s on purpose, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily mind… BUT that’s not the problem here! Are you sick or something? Why did you look so out of it? Like, like something came and ate your soul! You can’t let anyone eat your soul, okay?!”

There was no need for shame in this house, so you confessed with a straight face. Besides, there wasn’t any reason to hide it from Levi, whose concern for your soul had his hands on your shoulders, all of his inhibitions regarding intimacy out the window.

“I got distracted by your eyes,” you said honestly. “When you’re really happy, your eyes are this really pretty shade of orange. It reminds me of sunsets and autumn trees that we have in the human world.”

It took Levi a minute or two to process what you just said, but when it registered, he froze up. His hands clamped down harder on your shoulders, fingers squeezing you as he choked out, “A-ah… I, I see…”

His eyes bore holes into your clothes, not daring to meet yours, as red bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. It was just tempting you to touch it, to feel the warm soft skin with your fingertips, to encourage the blush with pinching and kneading, but just as you started to move for his cheeks, Levi removed himself from you and showed you a picture of cream puffs, drawn in a familiar anime style.

“Th-this, AHEM, this is what Ruri-chan made,” Levi said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks as he explained. “She cuts it completely in half and then they put the cream inside.“ Then, he swiped to another picture. “This is the recipe I found. I’ve already cooked the dough on the stove, so all I have left is to mix the perfect amount of eggs into the dough.”

You lowered the hand that was reaching for Levi’s face and smiled at him. Even though you really wanted to touch his cheeks, you were still satisfied from the way Levi was enjoying himself with baking. It was rare to see Levi so unbridled and unabashed with his happiness in a public space, although perhaps the House of Lamentation wouldn’t count as public.

Something this rare... you didn’t dare disrupt.

“Then, let’s mix the eggs together,” you offered, turning to grab the measuring cup of beaten eggs. “Is this the amount that we need?”

Levi picked up the spatula he had set down earlier and replied, “There’s four eggs in there, but the recipe said that it’s really finicky. We just have to make the dough a good consistency. Let’s see… we need it shiny, thick, and smooth.”

The mixing went well. Levi was extremely strict with making sure the dough came out well, and while you did some baking before here and there, you definitely weren’t an expert on the amount of eggs that needed to be in cream puff dough. You were glad Levi knew enough for the cream puffs to come out looking absolutely delicious, because you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Levi breaking down into tears.

“Be careful when you’re cutting it in half,” Levi said nervously, watching closely as you sliced a cream puff. “Don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll freak out if you do. I don’t know how to reattach fingers, so I’ll probably have to go get Satan but wouldn’t it be too late by then? How long does it take before human fingers aren't able to reattach? Ah, but we have magic so—”

“Levi,” you said, patting his arm in a consoling manner, “I understand your concerns, but I’ll be fine. I promise to be extra careful, but you shouldn’t hold the whipped cream can—”

Pop.

“—too tightly…” you finished, but it was already too late.

The bottle of whipped cream, branded with a logo of Little Devil, exploded from the top. Some of the cream decorated the kitchen countertop in white spots and some fell on your hand, but most of it landed on Levi. You could barely see his face through the thick layer of white.

“...”

“Pfffftttt—cough, cough!” you started laughing, only to immediately cover it with coughs. It didn’t sound believable at all, but you continued on, setting the knife to the side. “Levi, are you okay?”

Before he could respond, much of the cream fell from his face in a huge glob, leaving behind a white coating with varying thickness and two spots where his eyes were. You choked back the laughter as best as you could, but it was hard to stop your lips from twitching. It wasn’t helping that he looked somewhat like a clown.

“Are, are you okay, Levi?” you asked again, biting down on your lips to stop it from forming into a smile. “That’s a lot of whipped cream…”

Levi opened his mouth, but you couldn’t see his lips at all, only a dark, gaping hole that opened and closed.

“Unbelievable…” he said, and you would have helped him clean the cream off his face if you didn’t absolutely lose it then and there, doubling over as you wheezed, slapping a hand against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, “but, oh my goodness, Levi, you—AHAHAHA, you look like a clown! A clown! Levi, I’m so sorry but—”

When you took another look at Levi, he was looking at you in equal parts disappointment and embarrassment as he wiped off most of the white cream with a hand, washing it under the faucet.

Even though most of the whipped cream was gone, the look he sent you almost launched you into another wheezing fit, but you steadied yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” Levi grumbled, but this time you could see the pout on his lips and the absolutely adorable way his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, with a bit of guilt, and reached for the remaining cream hanging onto his bangs. “Here, let me get that—”

Levi caught your hand.

“You complete idiot,” he complained as he brought your hand to his lips. “Cruel and heartless, I can’t believe you’re my master… Normally, I wouldn’t forgive you for a hundred years but… ” He trailed off, and his eyes, the color of coral, met yours for a brief second before his eyes eluded yours, and his tongue peeked out and licked the whipped cream that had landed on the back of your hand.

Your eyes followed the retracting tongue and the way it swiped gently against his pink lips as it passed through. Dazed, you only processed what had happened when the kitchen air blew against the wet patch on your hand, the cold sensation and the realization warming up your face.

Now, you were the one blushing.

Levi finished with a whisper, “You’re lucky I love you.”

-------

Masterlist!

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killian-spey · 4 years ago

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Death Would Be Kinder [Ch. 2]

Prev. Ch.

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 2276

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad. This chapter takes place during [BtVS S2:E15]

TW/CW: violence, kidnapping, chains?

AN: Idea came from @prose-for-hire ‘s submission to the fic title game. Taglist is at the bottom, let me know if you want to be added!

You’d been sitting silently, watching Spike wheel himself back and forth across the factory. If you didn’t know better he looked like he was pacing. In reality, he was probably checking behind the pillars and corners of the factory for any sign of your friends. It seems the vampires were expecting Buffy to come looking for you. As the time dragged on, your suspicions became reality; Buffy had prioritized the threat of the Judge over saving you. You had to admit, it stung a little, but it was only logical.

Spike peeked his head into each doorway adjoining the main factory floor. You could tell he was getting restless. You contemplated your odds carefully before you decided on taking a calculated risk.

“You lose a sock?” you yelled.

“Did I what?” Spike wheeled back into the room, an odd expression on his face.

“I asked if you lost a sock.” You paused, his intense glare caught you off-guard. “You know… Because of all the pacing. And popping your head in and out of every room in the place. Somebody’s going to think you lost a sock.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He chuckled a bit before going quiet again and stalking around the factory in his wheelchair. You nodded to yourself, deciding to quit while you were ahead. After that, the only sounds left in the factory were the spinning of wheels and an occasional bumping of door frames and frustrated curses.

It had only been a couple hours of his pseudo-pacing before Angelus and Drusilla stumbled their way into the factory. Spike took one look at the state Angelus was in and hid a smirk under his hand by scratching his nose.

“Well, you’re home early. Slayer hasn’t even tried swiping the girl yet.”

Spike’s good mood vanished as he watched them come down the steps. Drusilla was beside herself, and for a moment you found yourself feeling bad for her. Then Angelus opened his big fat mouth and you remembered who these people were.

“Yeah, well things didn’t go exactly according to plan, Spikey.” He prowled the room, circling like a big cat before he gravitated towards you. Your nerves peaked and you swear you saw a glint of pride behind Angelus’ eyes as he heard your heart pick up. He stepped within arms’ reach of you and sneered.

“What I can’t figure out is, why would she abandon you like this?”

“Where’s your big blue friend?” You swallowed your anxiety and stared up at him in challenge, you weren’t going to tell him a goddamn thing. Might as well give yourself a fighting chance. If he figured it out, you were dead already. You were going to be careful, of course, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him win.

Angelus roared, grabbing your face by the jaw. He was suddenly wearing his game face front and center. ‘Buffy really rattled him, huh?’ You remained stoic, as statuesque as you could muster. If you had misjudged his mood, this might be one of your last moments alive.

Drusilla had floated her way over, leaning into Angelus and hugging his arm to her side. Your staring contest interrupted, Angelus pulled away from you. You took the free moment away from the spotlight to run your fingers against the grain of the armrests, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of the wood underneath you. Your panic was bubbling to the surface, tension and pressure building in your ribcage. You caught Spike’s knowing glance towards you as your eyes flickered between the vampires. You dropped your eyes to the floor, frozen as Drusilla subtly coaxed Angelus away from you. Before long, Angelus had stormed out of the factory again, mumbling about sending Buffy a message.

You were grateful and more than a little stunned. Drusilla saved your life. In her own, subtle way she’d dismantled Angelus’ rage and directed it somewhere else. She’d spun him out of the factory towards Buffy with little more than a subtle flirtatious gesture. You practically gawked at her as she made her way into Spike’s lap. She had these men wrapped around her finger and they didn’t even know it.

Well, maybe Spike knew, but he certainly didn’t mind. He was running his fingers through Drusilla’s hair, comforting her as he spoke.

“If you like the hostage so much, maybe you should have a little fun, Ducks.” He wrapped an arm around Drusilla’s waist to steady her as he wheeled towards you, continuing. “She was supposed to be the distraction for the Slayer, after all. That is what went wrong with the plan, wasn’t it?”

Drusilla lifted her head, gears turning as she looked between Spike and you. Your mind rushed with your fears of what she was contemplating. You didn’t put it past them for ‘playing’ to mean something rather unpleasant for you. Drusilla hummed under her breath excitedly, springing from Spike’s lap and practically skipping out of the room. Spike nodded at you, raising his eyebrows as if to say “Hey look, I fixed it!” and wheeled himself into a good position to watch from, a smug grin on his face.

Drusilla returned with two fistfuls of chains and your heart dropped. She fussed with them somewhere behind you and left the rest in a pile as she ducked off again to the other room. Spike flicked his eyes between the chains and his girl curiously, but said nothing as she flurried about the factory. When she returned, she was holding a long carrying case and a small over-the-shoulder bookbag. She dropped them beside the chains and left again without a word.

“Ducks, what is all this stuff?”

Spike called out to her and wheeled over to the bags. He unzipped one when she didn’t answer. You couldn’t see into the bag from your position and Spike’s exasperated reaction didn’t help you either.

Drusilla returned one final time, holding a large blank canvas in each hand. The left was maybe a 20”x24” and the right was maybe a 24” square. (50cmx60cm or 60cm square).

“Which one does the artist like best?”

You paused, unsure if there was a right answer. After a couple moments you pointed weakly to the left canvas. Drusilla smiled at you and put the square canvas down. Spike scoffed as Drusilla set up an easel from the carrying case and put the bookbag on a table beside it.

She dragged the chains over to your chair and kneeled, carefully untying the knots around your right leg. You studied her face; she bit her tongue lightly as she worked, pulling at the ropes with deft, perfectly manicured fingers. After she’d untied your legs and shackled them, she let your arms off the armrests.

She took your hands in hers and pulled you up to stand for the first time in almost a day. You scanned her expression and glanced backwards towards the easel, then back to her with trepidation. She glided you in front of the daunting white canvas and left you, sinking backwards and sitting in Spike’s lap.

You stood, dumbfounded at the prospect of Drusilla wanting you to paint, of all things. She seemed unimpressed by your inaction after a few moments, and had begun whispering into Spike's ear. He'd leaned into her, pulling her closer and snickered at what must have been a rather amusing comment. He flicked his eyes at you through his lashes, a predatory glint flashing behind his eyes as his smirk grew. He straightened in his seat with satisfaction, head held high.

“Paint for the lady or get eaten. Your choice.”

Drusilla’s eyes wandered back to you and provided no comfort, but then again, why should it? You turned back to the canvas, feeling both their eyes staring at you. A calming breath later, you assessed the materials on the table.

The canvas bag she'd brought had a full set of oil paints- far nicer than you'd ever been able to afford. You didn't dare think of the poor shopkeeper she'd probably killed for them. A person just like your Uncle. He was just another obstacle in these people’s way, and for that he was murdered. You shoved the paints to one side of the small table and began assessing the tools. A somewhat rudimentary selection of spatulas and brushes. You could make do just fine with these.

You set up a palette with some blue, red, white, and black to start. A color palette often was the first thought you gave to a painting. This painting would be mostly blues, purples, and grays. Without turning your head, your eyes flicked towards the vampires just off your left shoulder in the periphery. You had never really let anyone sit and watch you paint. It was hard enough showing a finished piece to someone other than family.

You mixed a deep lilac and raised a palette knife to the canvas. You paused, unsure where to place the landscape. The creeping feeling of being watched was throwing you. The white snow canvas was taunting you, paralyzing you. But you weren't about to let it win. Any of them. You closed your eyes and just swiped the palette knife confidently in a bold first stroke. Now you had a puzzle. How does this fit into a landscape? There was no going back now, it had to work.

It was a mountain slope. The hue you used was suitable for a distant fixture seen from a twilit glade. You could lean into that, thinking on how to keep the morbid whimsy of the piece consistent as a theme. You blocked out the clearing and plotted out the forest behind and around it. It fell silent in the factory as you worked, only the scraping of palette knives and brush strokes echoing in the room. Pieces fell in place as you added gnarled willows at the tree line, white ghost pipes and fungi crawling on the foliage, and sickly green fireflies in the weeping branches and crooked thorn bushes. You didn't like how the overall feel of the piece was so damp and dreary. It felt too muted, too blue for what you'd envisioned. You added nettles to the glade in a redder purple, almost magenta, to tie the piece back into the mystical tone you wanted. A few more touches, a ray of silver moonlight here or there, and you stepped back. You contemplated the piece, for some reason feeling unfinished. The glade felt completely untouched, too alone by itself.

You almost jumped when you heard Drusilla shift off Spike’s lap behind you. You froze, dropping your gaze to the floor, unsure of her intentions. With three clicks of her heels against the concrete flooring, she stopped just behind you. So close you would have felt her breath on your neck if she were human. She leaned forward and pulled your hair behind your ear. She placed one hand on your shoulder and raised your head with a finger under your chin, guiding your eyes back to your work.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s not bad, actually.” Spike wheeled forward a pace or so to take a closer look at it. Drusilla still seemed to be waiting for your own answer. You studied it again silently.

It did feel telling, in an odd sort of way. It was invisibly and indescribably alive, despite the darkness and isolation. Could be a good metaphor for vampires... Alive and free only after their own deaths. Sure, they may not exactly live up to society’s expectation of a good neighbor, but you couldn’t say they let being dead keep them from living.

Still, the painting felt unsatisfactory, felt incomplete. You shook your head and pondered. You drew up a couple new colors, a ghostly blue and a red-brown clay. You loaded a palette knife with the clay tone and hovered over the painting, indecisive. The central piece as of now was a large, twisting willow on a small inclined mound of earth. The whole painting felt like background to an invisible subject. Nothing tied the eye to the painting, there was nothing to follow. No movement in a living place.

Drusilla took the palette knife from your hand and set it down. She pulled you lightly to step away from the painting, lightly petting your hair.

“Let it rest, you’ll do more later. With a clear mind,”

You let a heavy sigh escape your lungs. She was right. If you kept going now, at the end of your rope, you’d risk doing something that detracted from the painting entirely. You jerked your head up at a loud scraping sound from above you. Angelus had swung the door open on the mezzanine of the factory. He had a vicious grin and a playful look in his eyes, leaning on the guardrail and looking down at the three of you.

“Did you have fun with the Slayer, then?” Spike called up to him.

“Oh, she makes it so easy!” Angelus threw himself at the spiral staircase and rushed down them with glee.

“I barely had to lift a finger to throw a wrench in her little puppy problem.”

Drusilla twitched her head and glided towards him. She was staring at his face, fixated on something you didn’t pick up on. She swiped her thumb across the corner of his mouth and brought it to her own lips.

“Did you bring any home, Angel? I taste a young one on you.”

“Not today, darlin’. Besides, you have that one.” Angelus gestured to you and sauntered off, calling back as he left. “She wasn’t really any use anyway.”

[Next Chapter Soon!]

Tags: @prose-for-hire @soggy-enchilada @misselsbells06

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matchamorphosis · 4 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐙 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

・゜ʚɞ ゜・ 𝑎.𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ʚɞ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 ・゜ʚɞ ゜・

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || you’ve been testing ari’s patience and it’s up to him to put you straight— even if it’s going to be your first real punishment.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || smut with plot

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || daddy!ari levinson × little![black//woc]fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.7K — oof i’m sorry

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, ddlg lifestyle and dynamics, daddy kink, extremely bratty reader, big mean daddy!ari, punishment, cursing, spankings, pussy slapping, some steamy scenes, spilt apple juice, a ruined Care Bear’s coloring page, use of nickname: muffin//muffin cake — MINORS DNI || 18+ INTERACTION ONLY —

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || my head was spiraling out of control and I felt bratty + missed my daddy!ari nonnie so I wrote this :): planning on making much more ddlg scenarios like these because they always seem like such a hit and i have so much fun writing them! anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy this! ♡

↬ p.s || do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

it all started with a simple question.

the simplest of simple questions you know the right answer to. neverminded the fact that the supreme authority in the house, Ari Levinson, would still call you a big dumb baby if you’d answer correctly.

today was not the best day for you to endure one of your aggressively bratty tantrums he says you’re to old to commit — just as well as it wasn’t the best day for you to exclaim your snappy clever remarks he insisted you’re to little to speak of and understand.

you’re either his big girl or his little girl and no in-between’s.

today ignited something in you, lit a measly match that trailed a kerosene path he didn’t dare think fast enough to put out critically. Ari was too slow to realize the build up and now he’s facing the burning fire that’s practically charring the good nature that was usually your morally-correct actions and behavior.

today you just didn’t feel like being good.

simple as that.

however no matter what you did you wouldn’t win, not on daddy’s watch.

glossy black Mary Janes kick the air in a fiery frenzy, folded arms shielding your face as you sob into the pink fluffy play rug. it’s laying underneath your arts and crafts table and of course your thrashing petite body that’s spiraling in the tantrum.

muffled curses and melodramatic wails fill the pink playroom and the cause of this brat fit was the man at the opposite end of the table. no more than a foot away from you, thick muscled arms crossed over his navy blue polo chest. tapping his foot against the floor impatiently, waiting for your tantrum to end he holds the plastic package of goldfish grahams he took from you.

it wasn’t a good decision to ease your previous brattiness with the brownie baked cookies. of course he couldn’t help but give into your sweet tooth if that meant for you to calm down. although Ari didn’t expect you to finish all the sugary goldfish in your snack bowl in the ten minutes you were out of supervision.

additionally, he didn’t see it coming at all when he left you at that to sip from your juice box and snack on the chocolate goldfish while you colored perfectly in between the bolded lines. all so he could finish some paperwork but not until finding you ten minutes after with the whole package at the account of checking in on you.

the sight of your hand in the bag greedily grabbing the graham goldfishes and shoving them into your mouth was a damn sight to see. even when he secretly hid it in the highest and secret, kept out of eyesight corner of the pantry closet— you somehow retrieved it and smuggled it back in your playroom.

the confiscated, nearly-empty package is now in his fisted grasp. Ari cannot believe the shade of anger and disappointment breaking unknown levels of his calming limits.

words cannot describe the irritation inflaming his mind, you’re suppose to be his good little girl.

his precious little starlet who behaved and acted accordingly but instead he has a brat screaming ass up and face down into the play rug. crying her bug head off because he took your spoiling sugary snack from you that he shouldn’t have given in the first place.

rolling his eyes at the scene in front of him, his blue hues lock on your baby lotion thighs that your tiny purple argyll mini skirt reveals. cotton thigh highs adorned with purple bows at the frilly cuffs that match the small silk ones braided into your hair he helped design, capture his eye.

ever since this morning your attitude has been off and not only did it confuse Ari but it confused you to at first. until you slowly grew into liking the devious part that was hidden inside you for so long that maliciously appeared when you woke up on the naughty side of the bed.

from Ari getting you out of bed, giving you your routine bath, arranging your outfit and getting your hair ready. as well as eating breakfast, you pouted and grumbled the whole time but Ari was still so soft and patient with you. it made your heart gooey but you were craving his mean side.

so after you two got ready and started your separate chores and hobbies for the day, you were slowly working your way to anticipating Ari get mean with you. just like your magic always worked wonders, he did get mean. scolded at you when you were in the middle of reading your book, raising his voice just a slight at you that you did all your chores wrong and haven’t even completed some.

it was scary just for minute that he even had a hint of anger in his voice but damn did you enjoy the wetness in your panties at the same time when he ordered you to do them fully and correctly. until finally what he believed would be the end to your brattiness, nap time arrived.

thankful for it as he started lunch, thinking that when you’d wake up he would recognize his well mannered princess but what he didn’t expect would happen afterwards as he woke you up that you were more crankier than before.

the two of you had your lunch of toasty grilled cheese, thick tomato soup and chicken salad. you were still moody and cranky when you sat down in your pastel chair with the wooden pink painted words of princess displayed on the crest rail.

of course he looked at you as if a mountain troll was stealing his princesses throne because he didn’t recognize the pout pulling at your full glossy lips. the scrunched brows making a dramatic impression that married well with your anger inflicted face that spoiled your pretty facial features.

as much as your daddy thought you looked adorable being cranky, every little thing seemed to tick you off. you had a problem with everything that could either easily be fixed or was out of your hands.

the grilled cheese wasn’t cut in the shapes that you wanted, he placed the cheesy slices in your wrong disney princess plate, you didn’t want to eat your greeny nasty salad, you wanted another cup of sprite. which you were neglected of because ari had a limit set for you from not drinking anything more than the amount your tiny hello kitty cup provided.

and most importantly you wanted to have Lulubelle, your tangerine teddy bear, to eat at the table.

of course he fixed his first two mistakes but you knew better than to argue against and ask for anything that went against the rules. instead of putting you to a corner, he set up another option.

encouraged you to eat your greens to set a good example for your stuffies. replaced the second cup of sprite you wanted with a juice box of your choice and placed Lulubelle on one of the living room couches telling you she will wait for you to finish eating and washing your hands.

but even with those resolutions there were major bumps and outbursts.

you played with your food by smacking your spoon against the soups surface which caused little splatters of red dots across the glossy cherry oak table and grumbled under your breath as you picked off the crust of the grilled sandwich.

flicking it with the swiftness of your two inch acrylics, the pieces landing in Ari’s soup or hair.

it was as if you were set on getting on his nerves because damn right you were.

rolled your eyes and silently mimicked his mouth when he ordered you to stop. deviously giggled when the funny vein on his forehead that only bulged out when he was really mad at you was potentially going to pop out.

a smirk playing your lips when the corner of your eye caught every clench of his fist when you would hit the table leg obnoxiously as you slurped your soup. misbehaved yet did what he ordered you to when you believed his attention was back on his own food.

it was a very long lunch and as much as he thought he was going to snap at you and put you in your time out chair that was rarely used because you never ever acted like this, he left you to wash up as he cleaned up after lunch.

you would normally help him with cleaning the table or giving him any dirty dishes for him to clean when he was busy at the faucet. but he allowed you to run off into the living room and play with your stuffed bear in whatever todays make belief adventure the two of you were on.

cleaning up was easy since he only had to clean the bowls, plates and utensils the two of you ate with but it wasn’t until he started to clean the table did he notice all the soup drops against the cleaning plastic as well as the chunky pieces of lettuce, tomato, and bread crusts under the table around your chair.

Ari was close to exploding, because he taught you better then to throw food and waste it but he gave himself a breath, counted to ten and made sure to make a mental note tonight. after your special cartoon marathon, he’d have a very important talk to you about food waste and how wrong it was.

so after cleaning up and warning the two of you were going to have a talk tonight, he settled you in your playroom since it was a room away from his office. Ari never felt comfortable or secure with leaving you all alone downstairs without someone watching over you.

adjusting and nestling the baby monitor on one of your teddy bears heart strap, he placed the stuffed bear near your arts and crafts table. even if you were glaring at him for doing so, you weren’t a baby. although as usual, your daddy shushed at you and placed a kiss at your temple that made you silent as you pulled out your coloring books from your big wooden weaved basket with a grumble.

Ari knew you despised the baby monitor but he made it a priority to place it near you at all times when he wasn’t near. even if the meeting was only going to be around fifteen minutes, your daddy wasn’t going to narrow down the possibilities of something going wrong.

after settling your desired snacks when you remind him that it’s snack time, Ari settled your juice box that he already pierced the straw through the tin foiled hole and your brownie goldfish in your hello kitty snack bowl halfway. checked his watch knowing he had to attend the virtual meeting in less than a few minutes.

kneeling down at your level as you munched on the fish shaped cookies and colored in a fluffy cloud a Care Bear was sleeping on. pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your temple, “Daddy is going to be working in his office princess. can you behave like a good girl until daddy’s done with his meeting?”

the smile that was on your face disappeared, you didn’t want daddy to go and leave you alone!

I mean what was more important than sitting and watching you color? have you feed him the chocolatey goldfish and draw pretty sparkly hearts and shooting stars for him?

“Daddy I don’t want you to go! can the work wait?” you whine but Ari shook his head with a sigh, standing up to your dismay. peering down at you as you glare up at him.

“no the work can’t wait, muffin. it’ll only be twenty minutes and after Daddy does the work he’ll be back here. helping you color a page from your coloring book, how does that sound?” the soft lowness of his voice didn’t leave room for you to bite back an aggression but only nod.

“yes Daddy I would really like that.” Ari smiled to himself at that, thinking that your brattiness has finally come to an end as he left your room.

oh how wrong he was when he arrived back once the meeting was over.

Ari literally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar and you didn’t even look ashamed at all. not stuttering trying to explain your faultless contribution to this crime-like action.

to add onto the shock, when he snatched the bag just full of five goldfishes and crumbs did you start to cry and spiral into you tantrum even when he said nothing yet.

now we are here five minutes later.

with Ari looking down at your still continuing tantrum but noticing it’s lessening with your kicks and whines.

the only thing he feels is disappointment.

not only were you ruining your chances of watching the annual cartoon marathon the cable TV’s going to premiere later on tonight— that he allowed you to stay up to after relentless begs and your good behavior from previous weeks before — but you completely spoiled your appetite for dinner.

your favorite meal he made specially to go along with the cartoon marathon but now watching your tantrum become even more relentless Ari is confirming that you most definitely will not participate in it. maybe even cut your day short once you complete your night routine after dinner and make you head straight to bed.

“are you done being a brat now?” Ari, you’re soft daddy bear snapped viciously.

however you’re still letting out whines and sniffs as you reveal your red teary eyes from the carpet. the sight of them makes him want to drop the bag, kneel down and scoop you in his arms. kiss your face and tell you he’s sorry that he took the cookies away from you, but he can’t.

Ari cannot let this tantrum slide and give you what you want no matter how much it hurts his heart he isn’t trying to calm you down himself in the security and warmth of his arms around his little one.

he needs to put his foot down.

and it serves him right, because once latching your eyes on your mean Daddy’s austere blues you grab your white tiger stuffie nearby. covering your tear stricken face within the faux white fur with a gritted and bratty hmph!

it was infuriating how your Daddy had to take all the things you wanted away from you. obviously you didn’t have a say in anything cause you were suppose to be his good girl but why continue to act good now when you know you’re Daddy is going to ruin the only thing that you’ve been anticipated since the beginning of December?

today approximately around eight o’clock on the dot the big people channel you were forbidden to watch from was going to premiere all your favorite holiday cartoons. The Powerpuff Girls, Scooby Doo, Charlie Brown, Looney Tunes, and the various vintage episodes of nostalgic Mickey Mouse.

if all went wrong as you went down with your ship you could watch some of the holiday issued tapes of Strawberry Shortcake and Winnie the Pooh on your vcr but it wasn’t as often you would have access to the other cartoon specials you enjoyed premiering their limited episodes at the touch of a remote and Ari knows this!

your big mean Daddy knows how much you’ve been looking forward to it but he’s probably going to instead send you off to your secluded bed in the separate room he sends you to when he was to furious to have you sleep with him in your shared big king bed after dinner.

belly full of your favorite food that’s going to stir badly in your stomach as you shift under your warm covers restless because it wouldn’t be your goddamn bedtime. only having the single company of your golden fairy nighty nightlight and the only stuffie he’d allow you to cuddle for the night.

it makes you want to explode because you know how this is going to end but you’re head is to tired to even say anything in retaliation or beg him not to reconsider.

but maybe… if you think up something quick to throw him off it’ll buy you enough time to behave and show him you could be good.

even though you screamed all the naughty no-no words Ari would have you over his lap in a second if you even thought of them. throat sore and red eyes stinging from crying so damn much and rubbing your closed eyelid fiercely against the play rug and stuffie.

a plan is concocting in your mind, nothing devious but it will have its dose of your witty pettiness and unholy brattiness.

daddy won’t suspect a thing, you thought as you stopped your sniffs and cries.

wiped your tears with the cashmere sleeve of your cropped lavender cardigan as you got up from your sprawled position. patted your argyle patterned skirt down to smooth out any wrinkles and got back to work on the arts and crafts table.

and your plan is beginning to work because it does take Ari by surprise when you get up from your pathetic little position. the purple argyle skirt now fully covering your bum, he knows you’re ignoring his stern stare when you scoot your knees back to the small crafts table.

continuing to color from your coloring book as if nothing happened.

Ari scoffs to himself, what kind of mind game were you playing on him?

“what do you think you’re doing muffin?” Ari spoke and for once you stare back at him. eyes slightly red as evidence of your crying, they’re calm now as they meet his.

“nothing Daddy, i’m just coloring,” you spoke, the crayon in your hand shading in a midnight sky. Ari continues to stare down until he takes the crayon from you— but what he doesn’t expect is that when he snatches the crayon from you he accidently knocked over your apple juice box.

the mellow yellowish liquid spills onto your crayon box, containing the limited edition colors you prized. soaking your beloved coloring tools with the sticky juice; it made your bottom lip tremble as you quickly grab the slightly soggy box. you let out a whine as you feel tears spring in your eyes.

the unintentional incident and your heartbroken state almost has Ari yet again stumbling to fix what wasn’t really his fault. leaving the room to get paper towels and a cleaning spray.

coming to terms with this, you’re surprised to find the casualty of your crayons diverting the attention away from you and onto something else.

maybe if you kept this up, eight o’clock would come and he’d have nothing else to do then allow you to have your cartoon marathon.

you thought as you tapped a single finger to your peachy cheek in thought.

all you had to do was put him in situations that would conflict him into think it was initially his fault therefore guilting him into giving you what you wanted!

then you’d be set on the living room rug with a plate of your favorite food on your lap. a stuffie at your hip and looking up at the tv as the credits for the first cartoon of the night rolled in.

quickly finding some Lysol wipes and tissues in the playroom you clean up the mess and the cardboard crayon box as Ari’s loud footsteps come closer and closer.

swiftly disposing them in the craft trash basket and settled in your cushion seat before he arrived in the doorway with his arms full of cleaning supplies. when Ari stepped back into the room he was surprised to find you already cleaned up the mess and properly sitting as you continued coloring.

twirling a braided lock of purple silk bowed hair around your finger. figuratively showing how much you were controlling those dominant Daddy instincts of his he wasn’t going to have you get your way.

you still need to come to terms of all the wrongs you committed today and if all goes well he’d decide if you could attend to that cartoon marathon. “muffin?” Ari spoke and on que your head lifts up, your pearly white smile so tender and innocent as if you weren’t messing with mind to get whatever you wanted.

meaning excuse all the trouble you got yourself into.

“yes Daddy?” voice soft and perky as you settle the crayon on the table, he catches you sitting up straighter. elbows resting on the table and arms pressing close to your chest to pronounce your plump cleavage the top three un-buttoned piece of your cardigan displayed.

the delicious sight has him licking his lips, wanting to throw you over his shoulder with the loud and rough slaps to your ass and take you to your room. throwing you on the bed and rip every little piece of clothing off of you.

—but that’s what you want him to do, you want to have him distracted from the task at hand. especially when the task is putting you in your place and marginalizing your chances of watching the night special of holiday cartoons.

“what do brats get?” that question has you dropping your eyes from his to stare blankly at the coloring book and lined arrange of crayons in front of you.

did you want to answer him correctly or did you not want to answer at all?

the options where bouncing in your head but you didn’t realize Ari’s still waiting for you to answer when you ignored the question. picking up a crayon and colored in a Care Bear as if he didn’t ask you anything at all.

“muffin are you listening to me?” Ari sighs, tone no longer the softness as a few minutes ago and no longer bearing the same patience as before.

it doesn’t match your inattentive focus, you’re still coloring and teasing him. the sleeve of the tight periwinkle cardigan slipping off your shoulder, showing more of your rich skin that Ari wants to kiss and mark with his lips.

shaking his head out of it, telling himself that he was the adult and you were the brat and he was going to— no matter how much you were going to cry — discipline you into obedience and get his well behaved muffin back.

“i’m going to count to three and if-” he’s cut off when you roll your eyes on him, catching his voice in his mouth like a frog in his throat. Ari’s conflicted entirely and pissed entirely because you’ve never rolled your eyes at him, ever.

so as you persisted to ignore Ari, scribbling one of your multi colored crayons, you have a pink one in your hand. shading in a heart and an idea shines like a lightbulb above his head.

without any warning his large hands snatch the coloring book from under your grasp. the pale purple crayon in your small hand that was once shading in Share Bears fur runs along the whole paper. the sudden climax of running colored wax against moving paper, shocking you to a gasp.

an offended wail excludes from your mouth but Ari is too pissed to feel sympathetic. getting up he holds the coloring book he bought for you during the weekend above his head. somewhat enjoying and taking pleasure as you stand up on your tippy toes and jump to retrieve it with fail.

indeed taking pleasure as he stares down at your full tits bouncing in your comfortable tube top that’s underneath the cardigan. loving your cries and whines as you beg him to give your coloring book back.

eyeing your tiny delicious figure that's far too small to reach the skyscraper height that holds your beloved Care Bears coloring book. it made Ari’s heart melt when you hugged and pressed your kisses all over his bearded face when he gifted you it some day ago but he never thought he’d enjoy taking it away from you.

right now he has to put you in your place and ignore the tightness in his pants to deal with later. “Daddy you ruined my drawing!” your sobs and whimpers proclaim, continuing to jump as your cries became louder and tears become more present.

“you didn’t answer Daddy’s question little one,” he hissed and with that your cries come to an end to just reveal a glare then a smirk.

quitting your attempts of retrieving the coloring book you turn around and walk away. a slight hypnotic flow of your hips and curves making Ari’s eyes train to the plump assets.

“what was the question again?” you sighed tiredly, encouraging the deadly glare your Daddy has on you.

a yawn overcoming you as you hovered your hand over your mouth that makes Ari scoff. glossy lips still bearing cookie crumbs at the corners you stretched, you lick them off and you bite your lip at him.

mocking him in your divine rebelliousness.

letting out little high pitched noises as you arched your back with your hands twined together above your head. again, to emphasize your cleavage, “would it just go in one ear and out the other or would you actually listen and answer like a good girl?” Ari seethed.

you stand there and register it and of course you were heading off the direction you want but maybe you can turn the tables on him. “i’ll be a good girl Daddy, I promise i’ll listen,” voice soft and assured.

Ari cocks his head to the side at that promise, quirking a brow but not breaking the stare he has on his precious angel that’s playing the devil. he’ll put that promise to the test, walking around the small yet wide arts and crafts table he finally stands in front of you.

making you heart thump louder and louder with each step he takes.

crouching down on his knees to face you at your eye level, Ari sees the devilish twinkle in your starlight eyes. waiting for him to ask the question he knows you can answer correctly.

“what do brats get?”

his stern and mean face that always makes you stutter on your own words and trip over your own feet clashes with yours.

of course you can answer correctly, you can but you can’t believe how fun and thrilling it is with not just your growing ego but the wetness growing in between your legs. soaking your lace panties when your hands lift up to trace his bulging biceps through the short sleeved polo.

“treats?”

you whisper, before your hand goes to grasp the bulge of his trousers that he lets out a pleasured hiss. before you can smirk he’s slapping your hand off his trouser covered cock.

and in a blitz of a second you’re squeaking out a squeal as Ari grabs you by your arm. dragging you to the rocking chair resting near your bookshelves of thick hardcover storybooks and sits in the cushion seat before throwing you over his lap.

whines and cries getting louder when Ari lifts up the tiny argyle skirt to reveal your ass. tummy squirming against his lap he pulls gently at your hair to lift it up.

“keep squirming and i’ll add another five to the twenty you already have,” he hisses but you still can’t believe everything has lead to this.

Daddy never gave you spankings.

never gave you physical punishments before but as much as you were despising the situation you can’t believe how your slicked core is getting wetter with each second that’s passing. with your Daddy’s large hands caressing your ass cheeks and those thick fingertips teasing your pussy’s slit.

“you’re going to count each spank I give you and after each spank I want you to thank me. no whines, no crying just ‘thank you Daddy’. do you understand me?”

Ari’s deep low voice above you rumbling your core like thunder on a dark stormy night. only leaving you to whimper in fear as you nod but were caught off guard when he landed a loud swift slap! to your ass. causing you to gasp in pain.

“yes!” you cried but squirmed when he chuckled down at you. leaving you wandering what you did wrong before he landed another spank to the same cheek. causing you to cry out and feeling the honey of your pussy drench your inner thighs.

“what was that? did you even listen to your Daddy?” he hissed as another rough spank crashed onto your ass, “what do you fuckin say?” he practically roared, leaving more tears to drop down the landscape of your dewy face.

“one! thank you daddy!” you wail pathetically, tears soaking your cheeks, you knew your Daddy is doing what was best for you but you couldn’t help but want to squirm away from his grasp.

catching you doing so he grips your neck in his grasp. “don’t you fuckin run from me now muffin, you acted like a brat so i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat. we have one down and nineteen to go, don’t disappoint me,” Ari seethed before grasping your panties and pulling them off you.

by pulling off he ripped them at the area that covered your ass, marveling at the wetness of not just the panties but your pussy as well. “my muffin got worked up misbehaving? you get your dumb cunt wet when you disrespect Daddy’s authority?” he murmurs.

stuttering and attempting to answer the words become inaudible once your lips part at the calloused hands of Ari’s. soaked panties in his hold, he shoves them into your mouth. making you taste your own sweetness as he licks his own fingers from your honey and moans at the tangy palette.

“I thought we established no talking, you really are just a stupid little girl,” as much as his words sprung tears in your eyes you couldn’t help but feel your core burn. clenching your thighs together as result he darkly chuckles at the pathetic action.

his hands grip your thighs to forcibly split them apart, “oh muffin cake don’t distract Daddy now,” he darkly chuckles and before you now it a loud and swift slap hits your wet pussy. making you cry out in pain that’s slowly growing into pleasure.

“you’ve done enough of that for today. right now Daddy’s gonna have to punish you,” his hand that’s still at your cunt rubs it.

the slick of your wetness sounding off creating an erotic echo in the room and just like that he’s slapping your small wet pussy with his rough hand again.

“and no matter how much you cry or squirm or beg me to stop I want you to handle it like the big girl I know you can be. do you understand me?” his growl overcoming your muffled pained whimpers and moans as you feverishly nod your head up and down.

pulling the panties out of your mouth you nod your head, “yes Daddy, I understand,” you whimper after a few hiccups.

you can’t see the smirk plastered on his face but you can see his risen hand in the air from the corner of your dress up hand mirror. angled on the floor to capture the moment, shuddering when it disappears from the mirrors image you feel the rough spank at your cheek.

not as rough and angry as the first three but still enough that it stings tremendously, “two, thank you Daddy,”

“that’s what I like to hear muffin,” Ari smirks before getting back to work.

your Daddy continued to give you your deserved spankings, your ass bruised and sore by the time he was finished and was satisfied with each one you counted and thanked him for.

praised you for not squirming even when you wanted to as he covered your ass with the thin material of your skirt.

“you did so well muffin cake. handled and took your punishment like the good girl I knew you could be,” he whispered lovingly in your ear m as he carried you to both your shared bedroom to rub some soothing lotion on your sore bum.

“thank you Daddy. I-i’m so sorry I was so bad today,” you whimpered as chocked hiccups become more unbearable. eyes swelling up with tears and a little sob erupting from your mouth. Ari shushes it by taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay baby, I promise everything is okay. no matter how bad you act always know, always know that Daddy still loves you. i’ll always love you muffin cake, that’s forever.” those soft blue hues lace with yours and you truly do feel at ease.

nodding your head at his soft supportive assertion, his forehead pressed to yours and your noses rubbing tenderly against each other. making you giggle and he grins as he laughs with you before setting you down on the bed.

Ari rubs the soothing cold lotion against your bum, continuing to shower you with divine praises, sweet appreciations and heart warming adorations that made your peachy cheeks sore from your never-ending smile.

afterwards he gently carries you in his arm downstairs heading to the living room. telling you how you and him were going to fix the coloring page he ruined as snuggle you face into his neck. large bunny stuffie in you locked armed connection he settles you down on the couch.

grabbing the fluffy throw blanket draped on one of the other couches he grabs it and wraps your lower half in it. giggling as he tucks it around your sides to make sure you’re nestled nice and warm, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Ari glances down to his watch with a soft smile, clutching the remote on the coffee table he turns the TV on.

smirking at your confusion when he goes on the channel that’s minutes away from airing the cartoon marathon.

“Daddy what are you doing?” your hushed voice catches his ears, Ari turns his head over his shoulder at you looking up at him with those conflicted doe eyes.

“i’m letting my muffin watch her cartoons. Daddy knows you’ve been waiting a month to watch them and daddy knows his princess deserves it,” his soft smile only but eludes your guiltiness.

“but i’ve been really bad today. b-bad girls don’t get TV time. they don’t get to watch cartoons,” you sob as tears began to fall once more but they’re quickly wiped away at Ari’s warm hands, cooing you into calming down.

“Daddy knows you’ve been bad today, but you proved to Daddy that you were good at handling your punishment. bad girls don’t get TV time, you’re right, but bad girls who take their punishments well and understand what they did wrong get TV time. because they’re no longer bad girls,” he smiles and you smile as well, leaning in for a kiss he accepts.

“there’s only a couple of minutes left before the premiere starts. Daddy’s gonna be in the kitchen starting dinner, if you need anything just call Daddy’s name out okay?” he whispers and you nod your head, shifting attentively on the couch to get into a comfortable position.

smiling to yourself as you pull your bunny plushie closer when the commercials end and the beginning credits to How The Grinch Stole Christmas starts to roll in.

you come to a solid conclusion.

no matter how you get in your bratty fits that your Daddy is going to forever love you. and no matter how stern Daddy is and how angry you are at him, you’re forever going to love him.

and no spanking or ruined drawing is ever going to change that!

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chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

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Aggressive Negotiations (part one)-- Anakin Skywalker x fem reader

Okay so I’ve gotten a lot of requests for Anakin seeing reader dressed up for the first time, and I also got a “stuck-in-the-closet” trope, and a “handcuffed-together” trope, so I thought I’d knock out three birds with one stone and just combine them all. Enjoy ;)

(Ps I hope you all don’t mind that I always make reader a non-jedi? Idk I just prefer it when they both have their own strengths.)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 2.6k

The thin material of the dress stuck to your legs, and you tugged it down self-consciously. Fancy red dresses were not your usual cup of tea, but tonight you had a mission, and the entirety of it depended on your ability to seduce the Prince of Krygo.

For once, you wished Anakin had failed at a mission. He had been sent before you to drive Separatist forces away from Kygo before they could take over the rich mining planet, and had succeeded in not only that, but saving the Prince’s life. Of course, this meant a banquet of celebration was to be held, with Anakin as the guest of honor.

Then, rumors of Count Dooku’s presence at the ball were revealed, which is where you came in. Anakin could not get the information alone-- he needed a more… direct source to the knowledge, one where the Prince would have his guard down and he’d be completely open to divulging important information. The Council was obviously “under-the-table” about suggesting you fill this role, and still won’t explicitly tell you what they suggest you do. But you got the idea.

Not that it made you uncomfortable. You were perfectly fine with exploiting a man’s weaknesses for your own good-- in the most respectful way possible. It was mostly the fact that it was Anakin who would be by your side tonight, and it was also Anakin who was your secret lover, and Anakin who had a bad habit of becoming possessive and jealous whenever he felt like his attachment to you became threatened. Therefore, you had to have a talk with him before all this.

“Anakin, sweetie, baby, my love,”

“Hm?”

“Pookie pie. Boo bear. Apple of my eye.”

“Yes, Y/n. Cut it out with nicknames.”

You leaned over the couch where he was sitting and reading his war reports, looking at him sideways. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do...” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Then you know that whatever happens at the ball, between me and the Prince, it means nothing.”

“What are you planning on doing, exactly?”

Now he was sitting up, alarmed. You hugged his head to your chest, kissing his cheek from behind to try and diffuse the situation.

“Nothing too elaborate. Just get him in a position where he has no choice but to tell me where and why he’s hiding Count Dooku.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ani. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But he might.”

“I won’t let it get that far.”

“You’d be surprised how hard it is to control someone in a situation like that.”

“You speak from experience?”

“No-- no of course not. I just don’t want you to be in that position.”

“Anakin, I know how to handle myself.”

He was rigid beneath your arms, quiet.

“This wasn’t supposed to be that elaborate.”

You drew patterns into the leather armor over his chest, as if you could draw the stress out through your fingertips.

“It’s not. I just thought I’d warn you, in case you see something you don’t like. I don’t want you to think I enjoy his presence, or him. I love you, and that’s all that matters at the end of the mission. Okay?”

“I still don’t like this,” he sighed, finally relaxing back into your arms. “But I trust you.”

“Thank you,” you kissed the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You could feel his unease, but both of you knew there was nothing you could really do to help the situation. You had to get the information out of the Prince, and he was notorious for favoring human women like you. The setup was perfect-- all you had to do was lure him in, set the trap, and then spring when the moment was right. You both knew you had it all under control, even if it did make Anakin nervous.

The one thing you didn’t really think about before agreeing to this, however, was the fact that you would have to dress up. Like… dress up, dress up. It was a formal ball, which meant the ladies had to wear gowns and men had to wear suits. You didn’t know much about fashion, and what was expected for this ball specifically, nor did you even own anything fancy enough to wear. So you went to Padme, who more than gladly lent you a dress that was both elegant and sexy… more so than was probably appropriate.

It was a necessary evil.

Step one was getting the dress, and that part was over. Now began the more difficult phase of the mission: actually putting on the dress and becoming that seductress, even though you had never really done anything like this before. Even more nerve-wracking— you’d have to face Anakin, who had never seen you in anything but your daily clothes before.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your dress down again. It’s not like you had anything to be nervous about— you looked amazing. The dress clung to every inch of your body, the red hue of it popping out against your skin color. Your hair was styled and draped over your shoulders, and you had done your makeup dark and alluring.

You were just nervous to see Anakin’s reaction… or was that excitement?

A buzzer startled you out of your train of thought, signaling that it was time to head down to the party. Anakin must be right outside, waiting for you. You took one last look in the mirror, and then turned to open the door.

The sight of him took your breath away, as per usual. He was dressed in a black suit, form-fitting and dark through and through. You’re not sure why he favored the black theme, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t flatter him. He looked dangerous, and the tilted smirk he was giving you added to the bachelor aura.

“Y/n…” he murmured, immediately fitting his hands around your waist.

“Yes?” You asked when he didn’t continue. He held you a couple inches away, admiring every inch of you. You squirmed under his greedy eyes. “Do… do you think it’s good enough?”

“Good enough?” He finally met your gaze, lifting his brows incredulously. “You’re enchanting.”

Your cheeks flooded with heat, the intensity behind those words loaded with truth. His voice was low, slightly raspy as if he was holding himself back from dragging you into the room and having his way with you here and now, mission be damned. A big part of you wanted that, but a bigger part of you enjoyed standing here, being inspected as if you were the most beautiful girl in the galaxy under his intensifying gaze.

The shift in Anakin’s eyes made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you could do anything. If he thought you were so beautiful when he looked like that… well, maybe you could do anything.

“You look incredible,” he breathed, sliding his hands further around your waist to pull you closer. It was only when he nudged your arms around his own waist did you realize what he was doing— he wanted you to feel the lightsaber he had under his suit jacket, reminding you of the mission, how he’d be watching and protecting you from afar.

You should have known before even opening the door that you would be watched every second of this ball, even now in the hallway of the palace. Something shady was going on on Krygo, and you two were the main targets.

“Let’s head down to the main event, yeah?” He suggested, pulling away and offering his arm. You gathered your composure and hooked your arm around his elbow, allowing him to lead you down the stairs, through the grand hall, and into the ballroom.

It was exactly what you’d imagined— a small orchestra on the stage, playing slow violin waltzes, elegant lace dresses spinning around the room, dress shoes tapping over glossy marble floors, and an overwhelming floral scent from the thousands of purple roses adorning the room.

You spotted the Prince across the room— he was dressed in a delicate white suit, accented with silver and gold, black hair gelled back with a single curl hanging over his forehead. He was striking, but in a different way— a mischievous way. Those mossy eyes were hiding something.

The Prince stopped the whole room with a raise of his glass. He tilted it toward Anakin and you, thanking him for his service to himself and the planet. A murmur of gratitude travelled around the room, and his glass lowered. The ball resumed, but the Prince’s eyes stayed locked in your direction— this time, landing directly on you. He flicked his head, motioning for the two of you to approach.

“You have your knife with you?” Anakin grit between his teeth as he led you toward him.

The arm that wasn’t hooked onto Anakin’s brushed by your side, feeling the minuscule lump of the knife you had slid into the band around your thigh. Your dress had a slit on that leg, providing you easy access for when the time came to use it.

“I’m all set,” you whispered back. He looked at you quickly, his eyes full of hesitance and fear. It was gone in a blink.

“Anakin Skywalker,” the Prince purred as the two of you approached. The rest of his company filtered away. “Or should I say, General Skywalker?”

“Please, Anakin,” he smiled, charming as ever.

“How are you enjoying the ball so far? Does it live up to your Coruscant-ee standards?”

You didn’t like the Prince’s tone of voice. He had a playful lilt, as if everything he said was mocking, a game. It was irritating and unnerving, and made it seem like he knew something you didn’t.

“I can’t say we have many dances at the Jedi temple,” Anakin answered coolly, accepting the drink that the Prince handed him. “But this far exceeds any expectations I might have had.”

“I’m glad you think so— you are the guest of honor,” the Prince bowed his head, lips curling impishly. “And for you, my lady,” he handed you a flute of champagne, similar to Anakin’s.

You took it, smiling sweetly in response. Inside, your nerves were firing out of control. You couldn’t do this— how were you supposed to flirt this man up with Anakin right next to you? It felt too unnatural, too wrong… You needed him to leave, and soon; before the Prince dismissed you, and your only chance at getting him alone for the night was gone.

“I regret coming off as ungrateful, but I believe I see Captain Wel-Solley. We haven’t talked since the battle of Geonosis. You don’t mind, do you?”

You sighed in relief as Anakin excused himself, unhooking his arm from yours.

“Of course not, go ahead,” the Prince encouraged, ushering him with a sweep of his hand. Anakin nodded once and left, fingers lingering on your arm. You knew what he meant by it—

Be careful.

You took a sip of the champagne so you could have a moment to gather your thoughts before hurling yourself headfirst into this mess of a mission. The Prince was already looking at you as you lowered your glass.

“And what do you think of this ball, m’lady?”

“Call me Y/n,” you smiled a bit, leveling your gaze at him. “And I think it’s beautiful. I’ve never been to a ball this extravagant before.”

“So you’re experienced in gallant culture?”

“My mother was princess of Fauna, before the Separatists took over,” you lied. “I grew up in a palace much like this one.”

You’re not sure where that story came from, but you always were a terrific liar. You knew you needed to find a level ground with him, create some kind of unifying factor between the two of you. Why not choose his status? You trusted your gut to just go with it.

“The daughter of a Princess. So that makes you… what? A princess as well?”

“I’d assume so,” you laugh prettily. “It’s no matter to me. I’m not bound by a royal lifestyle anymore.”

“So what do you do? Travel with Republic war generals to keep their morale up?”

“Actually, I’m more of a diplomat,” you swirled the champagne around in your glass, feigning absent-mindedness. “I negotiate treaties, keep the peace when possible.”

He tilted his head, scanning your figure. You could see the appreciating glint in his eye but pretended not to notice. Funnily enough, his face was his weakness. While his voice and demeanor gave you the impression he was spinning a trap around you, his face gave away all of his emotions. You could almost read his thoughts— how you looked so enticing, elegant but teetered on the edge of scandalous. How could an outside like yours be paired with an inspiring, intelligent interior? And a member of royalty, at that? It must be too good to be true.

“Besides,” you continued nonchalantly, “you know the Jedi… their morales don’t require much upkeep.”

“Oh?” The Prince was intrigued. “And what are you implying?”

“Well, they teach against that sort of attachment,” you inform him, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. “A pity, really. It’s been a while since I’ve had any… fun.”

The Prince picked up on that quickly. His grin turned equally sinful, eyes darkening just a shade.

“Well, if you finish that drink, I’m sure we can find something more worthwhile to do.”

“Yeah?” You took a sip and bat your eyes innocently. “Like dancing?”

“Like dancing,” he confirmed, and you both laughed.

Got him.

You scanned the room for Anakin as you took your next sip, finding him dancing with an older woman by the window. He immediately turned to catch your eye, just barely nodding.

You swallowed the last of your champagne, setting it on a silver platter as the server walked by. “So where would you like to continue this?”

You attributed your newfound boldness to the alcohol in your system, as well as the high you got from your recent success. It was almost too easy how he fell into the palm of your hand, but you weren’t going to question it. Now, you had to get him all alone.

“My bedroom is quite large,” the Prince suggested. “There’s lots of room for dancing.”

“I’d hope,” you played along. “I can get quite… sloppy with my steps. No one ever taught me how to dance like a lady.”

“A princess with a dirty technique? I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to do it right.”

His arm stretched out to you, and there it was. Your golden ticket to success. You hooked your arm around his elbow, and he began to lead you out of the ballroom. Anakin’s eyes were palpable on your back as he watched you leave.

Just as you crossed the threshold, you began to feel funny. Your head grew light, vision blurring in and out. Your stomach dropped, and you suddenly felt very faint.

“Are you okay, m’lady?” The Prince paused. “You’re complexion has turned a little pale.”

“Excuse me, I’m alright,” you held onto his arm a little tighter so you wouldn’t fall. “My excitement is getting the best of me.”

“I must admit, I’m just as eager.”

You continued on through the halls, but with each step your grew worse and worse. Before long, your knees could no longer hold you up, and you could barely see two feet in front of you. The last thing you saw before blacking out was the Prince smiling cruelly down at you as he lowered you to the cool, marble floor.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin #skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin x reader fic #anakin skywalker x reader fic #anakin fluff #anakin banter #star wars prequels

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xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

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Flowers Between Ribs [Sans x Reader]

Summary: Papyrus is cooking downstairs and Sans is asleep. Of course, you would take this opportunity to stick flowers in his ribs... You did not know he was sensitive there.

Genre: Fluff

Date: July 21, 2016

-----

It was an unusually peaceful day. A comfortable yet rare silence had settled in the humble abode of two skeleton brothers, which was usually bustling with noise and strange misendeavours. The sun was just starting to set, and the hues in the sky cast their light into the house. Gradients of the fading twilight slipped past the curtains and washed over the room, bathing it in it’s palette of orange, pink and purple watercolor.

You would soon attribute the odd spell of quiet with the absence of a certain boisterous skeleton-

“SANS, WE HAVE RETURNED WITH THE INGREDIENTS FOR DINNER!” Papyrus kicked the door open, almost sending it off of its hinges.

The door bounced off of the wall with a splintering ‘CRACK,’ and would’ve slammed back into Papyrus’s armful of groceries if you hadn’t jammed it open with your foot.

Whew, that was a close one. There were eggs in there.

“AND I BROUGHT A GUEST! (Y/N) IS STAYING FOR DINNER AGAIN TONIGHT!”

You poked a head around Papyrus’s towering frame and peeked inside the familiar house. As always, it was relatively clean, leave for a sock in the corner. (Which was bombarded with sticky-notes.) You visited Papyrus and Sans on a regular basis, and knew this place better than the back of your hand. Scanning the room, you realized that something was missing- or, to be specific, someone.

“Hey Papyrus, do you know where Sans is?” You ask as you shift the brown bags in your arms, and walk towards the kitchen. Papyrus follows close behind, scanning the room as well.

“WELL, IF HE ISN’T IN THE LIVINGROOM, HE MUST BE SLEEPING UPSTAIRS.” Papyrus set the bags down on the counter and placed his hands on his hips, “THAT PILE OF LAZYBONES.”

You chuckled and plopped your share of groceries on the counter as well, snatching a particularly light paper bag off the table. “I’ll go wake him up, then! You better get started on cooking Pappy!”

“AH , YES. I SHALL BEGIN CREATING MY WONDROUS SPAGHETTI! HM, SHALL I USE GLITTER GLUE OR PUFFY STICKERS TODAY?” Papyrus thought out loud to himself.

As you slipped out the door, you couldn’t help but shudder at the skeleton’s strange sense of taste.

Sure, Papyrus may be sweet, but unfortunately that didn’t make his cooking any more palatable than a third grader’s macaroni-and-glitter art project.

Still, you were kind of thankful he sucked at cooking- it was what strengthened your bond with the brothers so much. Whenever you were free, you’d come by their place and give Papyrus some cooking tips (“GEE (Y/N), THAT MAKES QUITE A LOT OF SENSE. I THOUGHT THAT WHEN PASTA CAUGHT ON FIRE, IT MEANT IT WAS SPICY; ISN’T THAT WHAT THE COMMERCIALS MEAN BY ‘FIERY HOT?’”) while also preparing nice meal for the three of you. Of course, you’d leave room for one or two bites of Papyrus’s self-proclaimed “MASTERPIECE SPAGHETTI, NYEHEHEH!” which seemed to satisfy everyone.

With the bag delicately pressed to your chest, you tiptoed quietly upstairs toward Sans’s room, faintly hearing the telltale signs of light snoring. Luckily, he had left his bedroom door slightly ajar and unlocked, making your job a lot easier. (You knew Sans couldn’t be awakened by the mere sounds of knocking, and you didn’t have the adequate tools to lockpick.

(NOT THAT YOU LOCKPICKED.))

You shouldered his door open quietly and were greeted with the sight of his room- something people could politely describe as… organized chaos. It wasn’t often that you came up to Sans’s room. Perhaps you’ve been in and out of here once or twice when you were sleeping over and needed extra pillows, but that was done rather quickly.

You never really paid attention to anything (except for the odd flashlight-lamp-contraption on his dresser.) Taking a closer look at the room now, you notice many odds and ends you're surprised you didn't spot before. A dusty treadmill, heaps of clothes and stray socks littering the floor- and… A hurricane of a mess. Literally.

Typical Sans.

Stepping over the oddities strewn across the bedroom floor, you make your way over to a sleeping Sans, peacefully snoozing away while sprawled on his back. The corner of your lips quirk up a bit further upon hearing the faint clanging of pots and pans downstairs, along with the occasional “NYEHEHEH!”and you figure Papyrus is entertaining himself: you'd let Sans catch z’s for just a little longer.

You plop down next to Sans’s bed and rest an arm on the edge of the mattress, propping your head up on it. Your eyes latch onto his chest, rising up and down at a slow and steady pace. No nightmares this time, huh? You let out a small exhale and give the sleeping monster a small lopsided smile.

Despite his endless slew of lame jokes and easygoing attitude, you knew Sans always had a torrential wave of thoughts consuming his mind- in both sleep and his waking hours. At one point, you had gotten worried enough about his worsening eyebags and asked if he was alright, only to receive a broad and somewhat conventional reply. You begrudgingly changed topics, taking the hint- but pressed him for answers once Papyrus called you up begging for help at 7AM on a Saturday.

You had dashed over there with a bad case of bedhead and mismatching socks, assuming the worst- only to arrive and find Papyrus in desperate need to use the only bathroom in the house- which Sans had fallen asleep in while brushing his teeth. “no need to get so pee-ved, can’t a guy get some bath-room to himself for a bit, heh?” “Sans,” You huffed “Look, we can tell something is bothering you- and it must be pretty bad, to lose sleep over.” He shifted from one slipper-clad foot to another, eyes darting away from you.

No response.

You sigh and place a hand gently on his arm, furrowing your brows at him. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but take care of yourself, okay? We can’t have you injured for small things that could’ve been helped, yaknow?” Sans chuckled and lightened up considerably as Papyrus came out of the bathroom, looking much more calm.

“hey, eye’m bagging you to let this go, (Y/N).”

“SANS!“

And that concluded your semi-serious conversation about Sans’s health. You knew Sans was only avoiding a direct answer to save you and Papyrus the trouble of being worried, but there was a nagging feeling in your mind that there was something more than that. Something that he was… Protecting you two from?

Your eyes travel from his rising chest to his ivory face, completely relaxed despite the constant grin that was plastered from cheek to cheek.

From afar the bony surface seemed flawless and smooth, but up close you could spot small imperfections. Chips on the surface, tiny indentations, ridges and occasional scratches decorated his face, and you found yourself struggling to keep your hands to yourself. It was strange how these small markings could be argued to be unattractive- but to you, be so entrancingly unique and beautiful.

It made Sans who he was.

Your stare catches on parts of his exposed lower ribs, a result of his white shirt and unzipped blue jacket riding up during his tossing and turning.

Your cheeks betray you and flush a deep red rivaling Papyrus’s cape, and you hurriedly avert your gaze elsewhere. It was then that you remembered what you had brought into the room with you, and an idea popped into your mind.

Smiling coyly, you pick your head up and dig a hand into the brown paper bag, careful to subdue any obnoxious crinkling. You pull out your hand. In between your pointer finger and your thumb was a dainty little flower with vibrantly colored petals and a thick, robust stem.

After you had gone grocery shopping with Papyrus, you spotted a flower vending cart next to the park you two passed to go home, covered from wheel to canopy with beautiful, multicolored flowers of all variety.

“GO AHEAD, HUMAN. I SEE YOU HAVE TAKEN A LIKING TO THE PRETTY WEEDS.”

Papyrus gestured for you to go with a wide and genuine smile, but you were too busy cringing at the unintentional jab to really notice.

“I SHALL WAIT FOR YOU HERE UNTIL YOU HAVE FINISHED LOOKING! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM EXCELLENT AT WAITING! AMONG OTHER THINGS OF COURSE.” You wondered if bringing up the incident where he could barely wait for the bathroom would be appropriate, but bit your tongue.

Instead, you tossed him a grateful smile and went to pick out a handful of snipped daisies, bluebells, bleeding hearts and carnations.

Chuckling at the memory, you twirled the powder pink carnation between your fingers and eye Sans’s uncovered ribs. You honestly had no idea what to do with the snippets of flowers, and had only bought them in the spur of the moment. But now, you had an idea Would he feel it? He was asleep… This could be payback for that time he stacked ritz crackers on your forehead as you napped on the couch- needless to say you got a faceful of saltine cookies once you awoke. (“aw, come’on (Y/N), don’t be mad! I’m crackerin’ up over here!”)

Carefully, you slipped the smooth, dark green stem of the carnation between his second to last rib. Seeing that it stayed put, you felt a burst of happiness and immediately worked to place as many as you could in the exposed expanse of his bones.

Selecting a line of deep red bleeding hearts, you nestled those on the innermost part of his fourth to last rib. A cute daisy followed, placed snugly next to the bleeding hearts. You decorate his outer false ribs with baby blue bluebells and tuck some red carnations comfortably against the tip of his Xiphoid Process, grinning to yourself. Lines of fresh white daises and bleeding hearts dangle from his floating ribs, and you can’t help but admire your handiwork. The vividly colored flora somehow both complimented and contrasted perfectly against Sans’s milky white bones, framing the already strong and alluring structure with a collection of complimentary daisies and bluebells, gradiented red and pink carnations, and elegant yet sharply colored bleeding hearts.

After a few moments, you catch yourself staring and shake yourself out of your stupor. Glancing inside the brown paper bag, you are confronted with one more healthy-looking daisy sitting alone at the bottom. Removing it from its confines, you stare blankly at the garden in Sans’s ribs, wondering where to put the final flower.

Finally, you decide to place it with the other daises, but- Accidentally, your fingertips brush along Sans’s costal cartilage, and static shoots up your arm.

Oh, geez.

He was unexpectedly warm for a skeleton, and insanely smooth.

Your hand instinctively draws back as you sharply inhale, eyes darting up to Sans’s face. Fortunately, he was still asleep- although a strange bluish hue had dusted his cheeks. There was no way...

Was he… Enjoying that?

A shiver travels up your spine as you hear him give an almost inaudible but throaty groan, and you press your fingers to your lips. You didn’t ever really have a chance to find out what monster anatomy was like- but it was rather odd to you that ribs of all places could be a potential erogenous zone. Slowly, you lower them back onto the same spot and wrap the pads of your fingers around the bone, giving a longer, harder rub.

The response is immediate. Phalanges curl into the bedcovers and metacarpals twist into bedsheets.

Sans arches his back with a whimper and brings his ribs into your palms, reminding you of lesser dog and his keening.

Except this one moans.

Sans unconsciously bucks into your hand and gives a crescendo of a guttural moan, sending your heartbeat sailing and skin crawling. Your head whips towards the bedroom door to make sure Papyrus hadn’t heard and come up to check on you, and once you were in the clear, you yanked your hand away despite the tingling in your fingertips that urged you on.

Well, attempted to. Your eyes widened into saucers when you feel boney fingers- the same ones that were grappling at the bed a few seconds earlier- wrap themselves around your wrist and hold you in place- if not pulling you closer.

Sans gazed at you with one half lidded eye, a lazy but knowing smile licking at his usual cheesy grin. “mornin’.” You gulped and flushed red. Caught. “I-It’s more night than morning, but…” Your eyes followed his gaze to the small flower show in his ribs, and when you glanced back at you with a grin and a raised eyebrow, your blush reached the tip of your ears.

“I-“ You rushed to explain yourself, but found yourself tripping over your own words, “T-The flowers looked pretty and- and your bones were there and i thought it'd look good and alsobeacuseoftheritzcrackersthing-“ You visibly deflate with complete and utter embarrassment, wishing you could either turn sink between the wooden floor boards or turn into one of the many heaps of clothing on his floor.

“it’s kind of like a garden.” Sans smiled at you, his long fingers still wrapped firmly around your wrist.

You mutely nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“the only thing im missing are butterflies in my stomach, but you already give me those.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the comment, and your pupils rapidly dart to-and-fro, intensely staring at anything BUT Sans. Ohgoshthiswasembarassingwhydidyouthinkitwouldbeagoodideaatall-

“hey”

You feel the metacarpals around your arm pull you forward so you were practically on the bed with Sans. Before you could part your lips to protest, another set of fingers brushed along the breadth of your jawline and firmly but gently grasped your chin and turned you to face him.

“look at me.”

He was so close- maybe just a little more and- Sans plucked the daisy you forgot you were holding from your hands, tucking it into your hair.

“don’t think I don’t know what you were doing, kid.” Sans chuckled mischeviously, the laughter coming from deep within his chest. Maybe it was just your imagination, but was his left eye glowing cyan…?

“I, uh-“

“(Y/N)!” A loud voice called from downstairs, “THE PASTA WAS COOKING TOO SLOWLY SO I PUT CANDLES IN THE POT TO MAKE MORE FIRE INSIDE.” Silence follows. “THE CANDLES HAVE DISAPPEARED.” More silence. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE ANOTHER BATCH!”

As you opened your mouth to respond, Sans stopped you with a finger to your lips. “let’s finish what you started, hm? you might wanna keep quiet."

His eye flared

"my room's right above the kitchen."

#undertale #fanfiction #sans x reader #reader insert #old story

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years ago

Text

Jensen Ackles: Green Eyes Meet

*Not My GIF*

Paring: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Pov: Jensen Ackles

Rating: Adult Mature

Warnings: Sexy Jensen, Green eyes addiction. Swearing, self-image problems,

Summary: Jensen had never really liked his bright green eyes, but that ended after he met his new personal assistant on the Supernatural Set. Her green eyes grabbing his attention immediately, maybe he did like his green eyes afterall.

Word Count : 1,653

Since I had been a kid I never liked my bright green eyes. Never was teased for them but the constant fawning over by girls in high school was annoying. That feature was like a crooked nose that everyone noticed and wanted to talk about behind your back, and sometimes in front of you, to you.

When I was a senior in high school my girlfriend was only with me because of that one feature, she had paraded me around to her friends, and family. Showing me off like I was a prize possession a toy. Not her boyfriend the boy she “loved”.

It was like my green eye was the only thing that people saw. Not my work, my thoughts, my personalities. Nothing. In college which was a fucking nightmare, there was another girl her name was Dorothy, she was so cute at least 20 years ago she was cute.

Her personality, her style everything about her was adorable. But yet again a failed relationship all because she was only there for my eye, yet again I have paraded around to parties, functions. Made to feel like she really “loved me”.

I again broke up and went through that motion. Finally, after 20 years I was not an adult but I was getting jobs. I did do a few modeling jobs, acting was sprinkled in too. Then what seemed like a big boom of celebration I was cast in the show Supernatural with a lifetime friend now Jared.

Years Later

Casting and building Supernatural was the best time of my life. A show that was dedicated to two brothers trying to save the world. A fan base that was amazing, best friends for the first time that wanted to be my friend because of me and not what I looked like.

Onset we all had our own personal assistant. Misha had an older woman in her late 30s her attitude every day was to make Misha smile and laugh, be in the goofy mood that every day had been presented.

Jared had another young woman late 20s. She was a fan of the show before we really hit off on the CW. She had gotten the job when she wanted to do an internship, and of course, with Jared being his normal passionate loving, caring person he loved her and always brought her to lunch she was more of a friend if Jared then his personal assistant.

I on the other hand had gone through what seemed to have been at least 6 or 7 younger, and older women. I guess you could compare it to prince charming trying to find Cinderella, every single girl had to size every girl had to have the position.

There was Ashley a young girl, she had brown shoulder-length hair, a straight smile, blue eyes, but she was all over the place with very bad ADHD. She simply wasn’t made for a schedule type of job, but I still made sure her reference papers were nicely written more focused on her great skills rather the ones that needed work.

There was Rebecca, she was middle-aged women, her two adorable kids was all she ever talked about but she was tired and could never keep up with the many types of different things we were always doing.

There was Annie. A straightforward mess of a person, she had a very bad RBF always thought I had done something wrong. I was very quick to say “I need a new personal assistant!”

There was Jessica. A sweet 20-year-old girl, a shorty with an attitude, and a very bad temper with everyone expect with me. I knew that would never work, so yet again I had to ask HR to find me a new PA.

There were Mrs.Miller older women in her late 40s. She was organized, and very sweet but she was sadly was only doing this job while her husband was out of a job. So she went which was quite sad, but I again had to ask.

Then there was Y/n. Her personality was all I ever wanted in a PA. She made life so easy, always at my trailer before I was with a coffee in hand for me and herself. An inquiry of what the day was packed with, always had my lines and would chat with me during lunch. She was exactly what I was looking for. Only after 5 years of yearning and wanting someone with the correct skills.

______________________ Jensen A. ___________________________

After another 5 years, Y/n and I had the best friendship I have with anyone since I met Jared and Misha. She so sweet and kind, she’d pick me up drunk from the bar, or go with me to premiers of literally anything. We’d go out to see stupid horror movies or funny romcoms. We were like the best of best friends. We were definitely in the hall of best friends.

The many times I had come to Y/n rescue after douche bag dick heads had fucked her over. Leaving her at dinner by herself, driving her home to watch something, and eat a whole tub of ice cream. I was her rock and she was mine.

I never noticed that she and I had the same colored eyes until about two weeks ago when she had on this bright purple jacket. Her eyes popping with the contrast. She was the most beautiful that day she wore a purple jacket with a black turtleneck with a pair of cargo pants and lace-up boots. Just as beautiful as the first day I had met her and every day after that one.

She smelled of peppermint and roses, her makeup light and cute. The pink hue to her cheeks was so adorable. That day we had a few scenes and then an interview and that was it. I drove her home that night and slept blissfully.

As the weeks went on my need to be closer and always around Y/n grew stronger. We’d sit down for lunch and sit down next to her instead of in front of her. I’d bring her coffee during a rough patch.

But one day I think she started to catch on, she’d stop me every day and hug me, like it was the end of the world.

A knock on my trailer door

“Jensen, do you mind if I come in?” Her voice was timid and tired from a day worth of work.

“Yeah, of course, you can come in Y/n.” I got up and opened the trailer door. Her small built frame came into view. Today I hadn’t seen her but once in the morning and now. She was wearing a blue crop top, black pants, a pair of vans. Again such a beautiful as the first day I saw her.

She came in and sat down in her regular seat. She didn’t have any papers on notebooks with her. She probably just wanted to sit in silence enjoying the time together.

“Jensen, how was your day?” she asked.

“Y/n, my day was perfectly fine. How was yours?” This was odd, a normal conversation. This wasn’t what I was used to with her.

“My day was tuff. Do you mind if she just lay down for a minute was something on the tv? Too many thought going on right now.” Her words shy, it sounded as if she were going to cry.

I wrapped my hand around hers and dragged her towards the back of the trailer, a spot where we would relax after a hard day's work, talk about things, do what we wanted to do which was just sit down and watch something. She plopped down and pulled her shoes off, and sat beside her laying my arm out so she could lay down.

If others were to see us like this they would say that we were a couple. Something that I would love but I knew better, she knew better right?

“Jensen, thank you,” She said after a while. I hummed in response, the clock wrote 9:30 on it. It was late but I had clothes here so if we did end up falling asleep here it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Another hour went by, and Y/n got up. She faced me, sitting crisscrossed. Breathing in deep she began to speak, so I turned off the sound to the tv.

“Jensen, You are the best friend I have ever had. Something I don’t want to ruin with what I’m about to say, I’m going to tell you the truth about how I feel, how I’ve felt for the past five years. It’s hard for me because of course, I don’t know where you are emotional and everything, so here it goes. Jensen, I fell in love with you 5 years ago. I fell in love with your personality, your character, your passion, your love for others, your fans. I love fell in everything about you. This could ruin everything we have but I ho..”

She just looked so beautiful at that moment after so many years of loving her from afar. Jared had seen me fall in love with her, told me to just tell her, I was scared I’d ruin the friendship we had built. So I kissed her, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“I have loved you since the beginning too Y/n. You’re the smartest, most caring person I have met in a long time. You are so beautiful sorry I cut you off but I have been waiting to do that for a long time you know.” I said with my hands still pushed into her sides

She giggled, and leaned her head against mine, and hummed in response. And for the first time I felt like I was living my dream, I was with the person I truly love and that loved me back.

Tag List- @akshi8278

#greeneyes #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #swearing #yearning #single #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensengirl

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the-magic-lava-lamp · 3 years ago

Text

Harvest Moon

Summary: {A light sequel to: Unforgettable} They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

Ships: SamBucky

Word Count: 5,285

The light from the orange sunset flushed Sam Wilson’s cheeks, encouraging the spread of an internally hot blush. Color blossomed under his soft complexion with all the grace of the water rings rippling under the rocks skipping on the lake. Though the sweat was just beginning to puddle in his palms and drip down his temple, Sam was only focused on the fevered senses of comfort which had been deep-rooted in his chest since arriving back home.

The babbling waters had called him out to the docks just the same as they did when he was small. And following that nostalgia, Sam felt the ghost of supper on the stove. Turns out his fucked up Avengers mind could still remind himself to be home before the porcelain plates hit the table. No longer his Mama--but Sarah who would be annoyed with him and that was perhaps more threatening. He thought as his tiny radio played on.

AJ and Cass had fallen asleep with the gentle nudge of a fuzzy re-run of ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ and the promise of a hot meal when they awoke. Sam’s absence would be noticed very soon.

‘Sittin' in the mornin' sun

I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh

I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

He swiped salty sweat from his brow and found himself dwelling on the evening, wanting to change the direction of the souring sun. No matter what, Sam always began to mourn the day at around 5 p.m. Everyday could’ve been better. The threat of night’s permanent closure and the bearer of nightmares fermented him with anxiety. He was working on that issue with his therapist.

‘Now I'm just gon' sit, at the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh yeah

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

Otis began the famed whistling as Sam leaned back on his hands, palms flat on the warm dock. He felt the movement just before a voice began whistling along behind him. It chirped delicately in Sam’s ear, until the song faded and with it--

Sam turned--Bucky Barnes sing-along.

Bucky grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nice to see you so…” He craned his neck and squinted his eyes. “Lazy.” Even he looked a bit confused by the word choice.

“Thanks…” Sam chuckled.

“I just mean--” Buck paused, scratching down from his chin to his neck. Sam saw that he did that often enough to earn patches of grainy red skin under his facial hair.

Sam smirked, pulling his left thigh up and around from the edge. His eyes simmered Bucky’s blush.

“Have you ever had the time to laze around?” Bucky asked, amazed at his own wondering. “To sit and watch the sun on the water?” He gestured frantically outward. “You’ve been a busy guy...not that I helped you with that any…”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. Tracking your ass for Steve reaped some rewards.” He gestured for the man to rest his old bones down next to him and Bucky hesitantly took the offer. His knees cracked with sharp pops all the way down.

“No old man jokes, I swear-”

Sam held up his hands. “I wasn’t planning on it, Bucky.” He glanced at Steve’s old friend and for a moment, couldn’t believe the man of history books and horror stories was ‘sun-setting’ in Sam’s home-town. The orange light caressed his face in the same eerie way it’d done way back at Tony’s funeral.

“Thanks for letting me stay-” Bucky went to rub his chin again. “Not quite separate vacations but…” He chuckled, fading off. It was subconscious, the way Bucky led in with no follow through. He wanted Sam to be the one to initiate the conversation.

But Sam bit his tongue. He deserved to hear what Bucky had to say without having to pull it out himself.

Bucky turned with those doe eyes, tired but with enough energy left to admire his partner. “I hurt you....” He frowned, bitter with himself. “I know that and I’m damn sorry, Sam.” His voice was crisp and steady but his eyes wavered.

Sam sighed, eyes back on the water. “We were getting somewhere, man. And you just…” He flicked his hand out. “Disappeared on me.” He paused.

“I shouldn’t have left you...especially at such an ambiguous time for us.” Bucky stumbled slightly on his words.

Sam took a long blink, remembering the ‘unforgettable’ feeling of being held again. “I’m more hurt by the fact that I got nothing but radio silence from you-” He swallowed. “Past that-” He glanced at Bucky “Thing we had just started. I thought we’d reached a point where we could communicate.” He shrugged with muted emotion. “We were friends.” He added with a slight question in his voice. He watched Bucky’s eyes flicker with guilt.

“If you had given me a heads up, maybe. That’s all.” Sam patted his thigh. “I can understand needing space. I understand that even answering texts can be difficult as hell when your mind feels sick. I’ve been there, Buck. Shit’s hard.” He felt a dark twist in his stomach and tried not to dwell in his own memories. “I don’t hold this against you. I know you’re a good guy.” Sam made sure Bucky looked him in the eye for that particular sentiment. “But you should know how I felt about it. Whatever relationship we end up having; Friends, co-workers, partners-” He flicked his fingers. “I’d hope you’d think about how your decisions affect me.”

They held the next silence for a few minutes, Bucky seemingly taking in what he’d said. “For me, it was like I blinked and you were gone with the wind. I didn’t know how you were doing for months--if you were even okay. But then, out of the blue, you come back and you’re pissed about something that wasn’t about you.” Sam shrugged, feeling a bit lighter for every word he’d been simmering on for weeks.

Bucky grimaced, looking extremely pained. “I’m really sorry, Sam.” He repeated himself with genuine regret. The light around them bled darker. “I let a lot of my intrusive thoughts control me.” He hissed at his own words but quickly moved on. “Part of me let it happen because I’m not sure I could handle a competent hand on the wheel. I’ve lived as the...Winter Soldier longer than Bucky, you know-? And Holy shit that’s something I try not to perceive.” He turned, hoping he wasn’t over-sharing. “It’s terrifying to think it’s just in my nature...being destructive. I’m always nervous-” He paused again. “Not that I’m going to hurt someone--but the feeling that I need to will bleed back into me…” His voice faded off again as he picked at a loose string on his jeans.

“This is something you’re talking about in therapy, right?” Sam quirked his brow, needing the answer to be yes but the distant pain in his head reminded him that he dodged plenty of shit from his therapist.

Bucky nodded and before Sam could speak again, asked the question he’d been aching to for months. “I want to go back to you-”

“Of course you do.” Sam chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How have you been, really?”

Sam thought for a minute. “Working myself to death, mostly.” He laughed, though it didn’t sound happy at all. “Been seeing Sarah and the boys as much as I can…”

The sky purpled, darkness bleeding into the orange hues. The stars would soon be visible and Bucky was almost positive Sam would now push the question off, neglecting the details. For as much as he complains that Bucky doesn’t talk about himself enough, Sam often avoids voicing his own feelings.

“Sarah was swamped and anxious, despite what she says-”

“And what were you feeling, Samuel?” Bucky playfully tapped his friend’s knee with a smug grin.

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned slightly at the familiar teasing. He wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words so he turned back to the water. “Thought a lot about the soul stone, actually.” The sentence rolled casually off his tongue but did nothing to relieve the stress it’d been causing him.

Bucky tried to remain stoic but a glint of concern shined over his eyes. The infinity stone felt somehow personal between them. Though nobody had memories of their time dusted, Sam and Bucky came out with a new sense of intimacy for each other. It was as if something happened in those 5 years, which felt like only a brief nap to them and in that blip, they’d connected. Falling together was comfortingly natural after that.

“My last thought before I...dusted, was ‘Maybe I’ll get to see Riley.’ ” Sam whizzed his palm in the air, voice breaking slightly and definitely against his will.

Bucky’s heart twitched. They’d gone dancing in the evening after Tony Stark’s funeral. It was the most blissful Bucky’d ever been and he’d spent the night in Sam’s hotel room doing the most talking he’d ever spoken. Nothing physical happened nor did either man think of it, they were too busy soaking up all the information they could get from the other before the night ended. They could truly get to know each other for the first time.

Bucky went on about his family, as much as he could remember anyway. Sam talked of his parents; Paul and Darlene and eventually trailed his way to Riley.

Sam halted his next thought for a few minutes because it was damn hard to illustrate. “I know we weren’t actually dead-” He rolled his lips together “Or maybe we were, still not clear on all that.” He sighed into another little laugh. “But I just want a few more minutes with him...you know?”

Bucky nodded, giving him a ‘go on’ expression.

“I guess our souls were floating around in the stone but--” He broke off, looking down at the water. “For five years, Both our names were on gravestones and in all that time, I couldn’t just see or feel him one time?” Fists now clenched into tight fists. His body language was horrifyingly angry, contrasting the deep despair that was the expression on his face. He was almost sure that none of his words made sense, they’d been jumbling around in him for months like a virus and to be regurgitated so suddenly felt...messy.

The radio, which Sam had long forgotten about, continued to roll-out soft volume static above glimpses of songs. “Fuck, Sam--” Bucky squinted towards the sky, taking in the brief glance into Sam’s head. “I know exactly what you mean…” He turned quickly, admiring Sam’s presence as his adoration for the man thumped like the heart-beat in his chest. “I always figured I’d never get that peace with my family...but I always assumed it’d be for some iteration of Hell.” He rubbed his palm against his neck and laughed.

Sam elbowed him lightly, forcing Bucky to find his words again.

“Knowing--through you and how I feel about you--” Bucky gestured between them. “That I had a mellow...impermanent afterlife(?) yet still didn’t get to see my family...well it feels like I was cheated.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think your soul’s going anywhere bad, Buck. Don’t know what happens after we’re gone for good but you’re not ditching me again.” He drifted off, feeling a sudden unbearable disappointment. “Nat’ll be there too.”

Bucky took in a breath, enjoying the tickling static of Sam’s hand. “Riley too, don’t worry about that, ok?” He tapped Sam’s hand. “I think, when we go back into the weeds and the dirt--”

“That’s a tender way of putting it, Bucky.” Sam blinked, trying not to put himself in an internal coffin because he was significantly chilled now.

Bucky smiled. “I think we get the peace of nothing. Just a return to nature with the souls of those we loved.” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eye like a grandpa and sighed. “I’ve seen and experienced a lot of the Heaven/Hell folklore in my life and I’m not crazy about it, Sam” He wagged his finger and Sam pushed him slightly with a nice feeling of content.

“We can only comfort ourselves, nothing greater will do it for us. So we write ourselves a multitude of fiction that may, or may not, ease us into accepting death.” Sam bumped their elbows together and eyed a distant bird as it darted across and just above the water.

“I’m glad whatever it was that happened between us in that stone, happened.” Bucky added sheepishly. Turning to look at his partner under the increasingly vivid stars, Bucky hiccupped as a huge wave of affection hit him. “Cause I really like you, Sam.”

"But don't discredit yourself. It wasn't just the stone that magically brought us together--" Bucky lightly pushed Sam's bicep. "I-...I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that you made an effort to be my friend...even during the last few months of me ghosting you and not listening to you about the shield. You didn't have to do that."

Somewhere supper was threatening to get cold and Sarah was playing their meals with a concerned frown, Sam just knew that sister of his too well. He hoped to scrap together just a bit more time. "What can I say?" He smiled "I like you too. People need people, Buck. I wasn't gonna sit back and let you cut yourself off."

Bucky laid back on the dock, laying his palm flat to his chest. He repeated the phrase over and over in his head. 'People need people.' "Goes both ways, you know Sam?" He spoke with deep confidence but continued to laze on the dock, trying to find an angle where the sun was blocked and he could stare up at Sam. “Meaning, I hope you’ve been letting Sarah help you out...and seeing your therapist.”

Sam gently smacked his hand atop Bucky’s like a comforting beat of thunder. “Giving my best effort.” He nodded thoughtfully.

Bucky fluttered his eyes with the pace of his heart. “This is the first time I’ve seen you so...still, Wilson.”

Sam tossed his head back and laughed, knowing Bucky had hit the nail on the head with that one. The back of his neck cooled as he watched the slates of wood under them pale. The glimmers of tired orange light died and vapid pastel-white tones took their place, nestled in the cracks. Part of him wanted to disagree though he hadn’t the spirit. “I don’t like relaxing because it gives me too much time inside myself.”

Bucky nodded, encouraging Sam to go on. Fearing the man would never pick it up again if he suddenly decided to close himself off again.

“There’s too much to do...I feel like I don’t deserve it.” Sam shrugged, a clear illustration of his frustration. He’d definitely pulled this thread a few million times in his life.

“Don’t deserve it?” Bucky sat up just a little, resting on his forearms, he slanted his head as if the adoring smile was just too heavy. “C’mon Doll--” He cut himself off a bit too late.

“Slipping back into old habits, huh?” Sam rolled his eyes but waved a dismissive hand. “You’re cute.” He teased, shoving the guy gently.

Bucky played along, pretending Sam had used enough of that strength of his to knock him back onto the dock. “I think now is a great time for a few days off Sam.”

The man hummed, thinking about the public...what they expected of their new ‘Captain America’ and what the flicker of the new spot-light in his favor revealed about those who loved Steve for all the wrong reasons. Knowing, as a black man, he’d have to go above and beyond all those assumptions just to garner the same amount of respect they gave Steve. The anger he felt from that was righteous but god forbid he show any sense of hurt because then he’d just be labeled ‘ungrateful’ and ‘giving people grief’. He rubbed under his eye with a longing sigh. “I can’t really afford that right now, Buck.”

His body shivered as he tried to push away the intrusive images; Walker slamming into the man over and over without hesitation, thick puddles of blood covering his shield, carrying Karli’s lifeless body over an audience where half of the people celebrated her death...perceiving and exploiting her as another ‘super-villain’.

“Hey.” Bucky softly sat up and pulled Sam’s elbow until their eyes met. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He didn’t pull away, instead hesitantly he curled his hand around Sam’s arm. His fingers pressed dimples into Sam’s skin. Bucky nestled there and his friend exhaled a little, unclenching his body.

“It’s daunting.” He nodded to himself before tipping his chin to face Bucky. “A bucket doesn’t hold a tidal wave but that’s all I got.” He shrugged, noticing Bucky’s quirked brow. “Something my dad used to say...meaning there’s too much to say so I gotta give you a shitty summary, you know?” He shook his head.

“I know I’m one to talk but try using more words...buzz-words if you have to.” Bucky looked momentarily proud of his modern vocabulary and squeezed Sam’s arm tighter.

Sam chuckled. “Let’s say...nerve-wrecking.” He added, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side. “With all that’s happened...I’m worried--” He landed on a word he felt comfortable with. “Being Captain America...it’s heavy on my shoulders, man. I know I can do it, I trust myself when it comes down to the wire. I hold myself to my standards.” He trailed off again, listening to distant sounds of kids skipping rocks across the water. “I know where this job’s going to take me and I’m ok with that, glad to do it.” He looked back at Bucky with determined eyes.

“I’m not concerned with my fate.” Another deep breath racked his body, he wasn’t used to being so utterly serious with his current company. “I think about how it ended for Tony and I worry about the kid--”

Bucky nodded, He’d only briefly been aware of Stark’s ‘surrogate’ son and spoke a handful of words to him at the funeral, Sam and Wanda at his side.

Sam rubbed his neck with his free hand, feeling intense pressure all over his body. All his limbs tingled as if they were asleep. He’d not realized the true extent of how much this had been eating away at him. Speaking of eating, dinner was for sure cold by now…“Met his Aunt at the funeral.” She’d been proud of her boy but behind her eyes lived guttural fear, Sam knew that much. “I’m thinking about Rhodey because I sure as hell know the pain of losing your best friend.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Sam even further. He’d lost Steve so many times but the time had come for the permanent end and by then...well had they even felt like best friends anymore?

“I can’t even figure out what’s going on with Wanda.” Sam clicked his tongue with a bitter chuckle. “Girl’s doing her best to stay off the grid and I can’t imagine that’s good for her. I know Torres can handle himself but I wonder if I should be helping him more. Not to mention Bruce. What the hell is his mental state right now?” He added with a confused wave of his hand. “I’m even worrying about Scott!” Sam rubbed at his eyebrow and sighed. “This is all beside Sarah and the kids, who I’m constantly thinking about.” He laughed, voice strained and tired.

Bucky waited a few seconds, just to make sure Sam had finished. In that short moment, his heart swelled for him. “You’re a good person, Sam. But you’re only one man.” He shook him just a little bit. “Truthfully, You’ll always be concerned for them. It’s just in your nature. Don’t fight the intrusive thoughts...accept their presence and remember you’ve got a team.” Bucky trailed off, going over what he’d just said again in his head.

Sam’s shoulders sank with another deep sigh. “Thanks, Buck.” He swiped his hand down his face and noticed how much lighter he felt.

Bucky responded physically. He tugged Sam down with him as he laid back on the dock, shoulders bumping together harmoniously which sent chills through Bucky’s entire body. The good kind...maybe the amazing kind. Hell, they tingled under his skin just about every moment he spent with Sam. That deeply buried fear that he might spend the rest of his life making himself excruciatingly uncomfortable in his own body, trapped under his skin which was always crawling, faded from the realm of possibility each time Sam’s presence flushed Bucky with comfortable jitters.

“You’re getting good taste, by the way-”

Bucky only squinted at him, still half in deep thought. So Sam started Otis’s whistling again and watched his friend realize what he was talking about. His nose scrunched up while he nodded.

“How do you decide what to listen to?” Sam turned, they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I mean, how do you narrow it down when you’ve got decades to catch up on?” Sam’s mind flickered through artists like a jukebox--which was 1 thing he’d always wanted to buy, a real old school one.

Bucky shifted his jaw, making an eerie click, a precursor to his amused grin. “I made a list of artists I remember liking before…” He waved his hand, turning slightly to watch the dewey clouds cover the moon. “And the periods in-and-out of being frozen...I have a list of what I remember by decade-” He chuckled.

Sam sat up on his forearms. “I’d like to see these lists. The record set-up in Sarah’s living room is not a decoration, you know? It’s almost as great as mine back in D.C.” He grinned, thinking about the days, so far gone now. Mama and Sarah dancing around the kitchen.

“It really faded off during the 80’s.” Bucky pushed up to level himself next to Sam. “And not that I’ve had much time, mind you--” he laughed. “But from there, I just follow what I’m fond of like family trees and consider the few recommendations I’ve collected.” He trailed off, starting to do the Otis whistle again.

Sam let him follow through to the end, anticipating the tender connotations of the song to come after this day ended. “Out of all these decades...who are your favorite artists? Just curious.” Sam grinned. The answer to this question spoke loudly about a person, in his opinion.

Bucky looked thoughtfully content with the question, grin cocking a bit to the right as he held out his fist above him. “I’d have to say...Ella-” He flicked out a thumb, no last name necessary. Sam knew that woman like the back of his hand.

“Nat King Cole-” Bucky softened his eyes, searching again for that unforgettable memory in Sam, and smiling when the expression was reciprocated in his eyes which shimmered like sunlight through the trees. “Roy Orbison.” Two more metal fingers curled down. “John Denver and Billy Joel.” He let his hand fall back to his chest, satisfied for only a few seconds. “But I really love Judy Garland too.”

“So you like the mellow ballads--” He hummed. “Slow and kinda sad, huh?” Sam bumped his arm lightly. It made good sense to him. Bucky enjoyed the peace which came effortlessly from lone singer-songwriters. His five--or rather six--showed a natural progression.

“What about you?” Bucky asked, in a calm tone of voice though his eyes read eager.

“Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, The Drifters…” Sam paused, really thinking over his picks. “Earth Wind and Fire, Linda Ronstadt and since you got a bonus...Billie Holiday.” Sam rested his palm flat on his chest, content to feel the steady beating that let him know he was still alive. A rich sense of comfort rushed over him as if a fresh load of laundry had just been dropped on his still body. There’d been too many days in his life where that buried thumping was only a reminder of non-stop existence, like a neverending rollercoaster. Installing him with dread, guilt and panic. He was glad to find those days fewer and farther between.

“You make me feel like I’m livin’ in a Drifters song, Doll.” Bucky was only half teasing, for he was speaking a genuine thought but wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

“I like that one.” Sam hummed, turning his cheek once more toward the man beside him. “Tell me how you really feel.” He hiked himself up fully to return to his seated position, legs dangling over the side and casting faint shadows of foot-steps on the water.

Bucky paused with concern, not sure he understood the reply before he processed it fully. He wanted to smirk but the sentiment out-weighed the amusement. He sat up too, pulling one knee up to rest an arm over while the other dangled next to Sam’s. “I got it bad, Sam.” He made their wandering eyes meet.

“Me too.” Sam nodded with that dazzling grin. “You’re under my skin, what can I say?” He shook his head and tried to let his smile fade, finding he couldn’t.

“If they weren’t gone...I’d be buggin’ you to meet my family.” Bucky ignored the twist in his gut because Sam’s reactions were his comfort. “Though who’s to say how they’d feel about the….” He trailed off and Sam nodded. “You being a fella part of it--”

“A fella of color, too.” Sam added with a bit of a smirk.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed quietly and playfully tugged Sam’s hand. They curled their fingers together in an exquisitely natural way. “They loved me…” His face stilled with longing. “I’d like to think--But maybe it’s best not to go down that road. I don’t believe I turned out how they’d wanted anyway.” He chuckled, pitfully.

Sam tightened their grip on each other for a minute. “I know what you mean.” He bumped their folded hands onto Bucky’s thigh. “I’m always wondering what my parents would think of all this…” He flicked his free hand. “My career?” He almost wanted to laugh with astonished pride. Never had he expected to grow up to be a superhero. “Riley too.” He felt there was more to say but his mouth fell shut.

“Just a way to hurt ourselves, I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “And we sure as Hell love to do that.”

They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

‘Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away…’

He might have heard the song before, couldn’t be sure, and if he was alone he might have continued flipping stations just in case an older favorite was slipping through his fingers. But Bucky began to hum with the tune.

‘But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night…’

Sam gathered himself up from the creaky dock, stretching his body little by little and watching Bucky’s wandering eyes. He gently held out his hands which was enough of a sign for Bucky to happily grab them and pull himself up.

Sam shoved the radio in his pocket with a smile and though Bucky was more than just pleased to see him so jovial, he also felt a flicker of nervousness. “Man...for the first time in a while, I feel lucky as Hell.”

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon…’

Sam raised his brow and initiated the first few dance steps with his partner hardly noticing the movement at all. “How’s that?”

“I’m lucky to be in love with someone I like so much.” Bucky puffed out a relaxed sigh with his words and finally leaned into the dancing with real vigor. “Sam, I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone as badly as I do with you.”

Wind whistled past their shoulders but Sam felt perfectly warm. He let Bucky take the lead and allowed himself to be spun. The cool light of the moon acted as a highlighter, beams of translucent white caressed the shape of Sam’s body. Following the curve of his hips and sliding down the length of his legs. “Growing old with you...becoming a cranky old man couple, that sounds like fun.” He spoke as if he hadn’t had true fun in years which was probably true.

A bush fondly bloomed under Bucky’s skin. Behind his fluttering eyelashes, Bucky indulged for once in his life. To drink in all that was this man in front of him.

However Sam’s eyes were now focused on a cupped hand, which had somehow slipped from Bucky’s, where a yellow toned light would flicker every few seconds. Whenever the yellow light skimmed his face, he would grin with pure joy.

“You never caught a firefly before, Sam?” Bucky asked in jest, with a huff of amused laughter.

Sam gently guided the bug into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, fuck! You asshole” Bucky scrunched up his nose and swatted dramatically at his nose. “I change my mind, cancel my idea. Gonna crawl back into the absolute hole that is my apartment--” He playfully backed away from his friend.

Before Bucky could slip the last inch of his skin from Sam’s hand, the man used the full strength of his extended arm to fiercely pull him back and into his chest. Like a damn professional dancer. “I’ve been seeing myself from grief’s eyes for too damn long. Think I’m ready to take control of my own life. I want to be with you.” He playfully grinned. “What about you?”

Bucky glowed in Sam’s arms. “For a long time, I lost my sense of self…” He scratched behind his ear. “But never my fuckin’ point of view.” His voice broke just a little. “I had to see and feel every horrendous thing the Winter Soldier did. “I’ll bear the consequences for the rest of my life and I accept that.” He shook his head. “But I’m ready to accept happiness too. I really want to be with you, Sam.”

Sam nodded, content as he’d ever been. “I think we should get our dinner before Sarah comes to drag us by our ears.”

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss, full of longing and fulfillment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He laughed, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him down the dock with a spring in both their steps.

‘But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye’

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon’

#sambucky #is this good?#idk #i feel too awful to focus #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #sarah wilson #my fanfiction #tell me what you think #Marvel Comics #marvel #MCU #marvel fanfiction

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satoruvt · 5 years ago

Text

the color of you - blue (6)

ITS HERE. I HOPE I DID WELL. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT AKDSHKFJSDH

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3213

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → hell of flying by jeremy zucker, cassette by demian, a lil of bugbear by chloe moriondo

this chapter → y/n comes to conclusions, keigo’s a dork, tension, a fight, crying.

So it’s been… strange.

Or rather, it hasn’t been strange at all, which makes everything even more strange, somehow. You feel like things should be so much different, but they’re not. You reached a wild conclusion that threw you for a fucking loop, made you sit in your kitchen at Angel Cakes and contemplate what the hell you were going to do about anything that would ever occur to you from here on out. Sometimes you almost ask Keigo how things haven’t changed at all, since you’ve decided that you like him, but then you have to stop yourself from saying anything because, oh, right, you haven’t told him.

You don’t plan to, either.

It’d just mess everything up, wouldn’t it? To say “hey, I know we’ve been fake dating for like two and a half months now but I’m kind of liking the idea of really dating you”? Kinda fucked. Not to mention, from a professional stance, what if it ruins your guys’ chemistry when you’re being watched by the entire world? If someone finds out that the whole thing is fake - regardless of your feelings - it means Keigo’s public image and your entire life at the bakery. Everything would go to shit, and after it’s burned down, you doubt you’d even have Keigo.

So you’re not telling him. You’re in love with one of your closest friends, who you are also fake dating, who is also the Number Two hero in the country, and you’re not telling him how you feel. Yes. Okay.

You’ve had a lot of time to reflect about your own feelings, because after Keigo left to fight that villain the other day (and after you managed to get off the ground and clean up) you were sure it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Yeah, he looked pretty, and there was something dreamy and domestic about laughing and throwing baking ingredients at each other, so maybe your heart just got confused.

But you’d called him to ask if he was okay (instead of a usual text) and he’d picked up the phone and laughed and your heart had not done that before. Not with Keigo, not on the phone, and not like that. And usually his pet names amused you, but he’d called you “sweetheart” over the phone and his voice was tired and drawled a bit. It made you dizzy. You said goodbye pretty soon after that.

You’re barely walking up the stairs of your apartment complex when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Butterflies (and moths, a few) erupt in your stomach when you read the name, and then immediately die when you read the text itself.

keigo baby 🐦

Do u want to have a playdate with me 👉👈 I could come over if ur mom says its okay

Why him? You think to yourself, swallowing the vomit in your throat and fishing your keys out of your bag to unlock your door. You text back when you get inside, throwing your belongings on the nearest surface.

y/n

don’t ever talk to me again

keigo baby 🐦

Is that a yes??

y/n

….fine, but if u ever use those emojis again i’ll break up with u. legally

keigo baby 🐦

baby no!!!!

You throw your phone down onto your sofa before flopping over it, letting yourself sink into the cushions for a moment. It takes no more than ten minutes for Keigo to be at your door, letting himself in without so much as a knock. You know that it’s technically your doing, since you didn’t lock it when you came in, but you still whine at him about it, and he mocks you jokingly.

It seems he either senses your tiredness or didn’t have anything in mind to do anyways, because all Keigo does is lift your legs up from where they’re sprawled out on the couch and sits down in their place, letting them flop back onto his lap. He adjusts so his wings aren’t smashed against the back of the couch (or, at least, not as much). You move your feet off of his lap.

You’ve come to really appreciate days like this, where you simply bask in his company and he does yours. As much as Keigo is nonchalant about his lifestyle, you know it’s exhausting for him to do what he does every single day, and then to have to talk to people (fans, reporters, anyone). He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know. And, well, if you can give him a moment of comfort -

God, no, stop thinking like that. You can’t afford to think like that right now.

The two of you talk, occasionally sharing posts from social media and laughing at dumb little cat videos (there was one that was five whole minutes of one of the guys from that k-pop band being compared to cat pictures and it’s the most wholesome thing you’ve ever seen to date). Before you know it, it’s been a few hours, the sun just fully covered by the distant mountains. The sky cools down in purple and blue hues, dressing up for the night to come. You and Keigo are laughing over old vines, and in your mind you think that it really couldn’t be that bad for this to be every night instead of just… some nights.

At the end of the compilation Keigo groans out a lingering laugh, stretching his legs out as best he can without hitting your coffee table. You stand up, feeling the need to move around as well, and walk towards your kitchen for a drink. Keigo stands after you but doesn’t move, letting his wings flex and stretch from being contained for so long. You get a glass of water, lift it to your lips just as Keigo lifts his arms above his head and holy fucking shit, his stomach -

Tummy! the tiny voice in your head squeals, but the hornier one screams at the top of its lungs ABS and honestly you don’t know what the fuck to do and neither does your body so you choke on your water. Keigo startles, eyes wide, and with a mumbled “holy shit” makes his way over to you as you cough and sputter over your sink.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back, eyes watery and face red for multiple reasons. You take a deep breath and Keigo rubs your back, eyeing you, which only makes the entire situation worse.

“Jesus, are you okay?” He asks, and you nod, but you can’t look at him.

“Yeah, uh,” you clear your throat, blinking a few times. “Just… went down the wrong pipe, I guess.”

Fuck.

You barely recover from seeing a sliver of Keigo’s stomach, and the memory haunts you for days. You attempt at willing it out of your brain, try to tell yourself that you just didn’t see it at all, but your heart is strong as hell and refuses to let your head forget it. You think about it multiple times a day. You think about it for at least twenty minutes each time. You think about it until Keigo texts you a little less than a week after it happened.

Your phone buzzes on the counter in the kitchen and you finish up your bread dough, putting it into a bowl gently and setting a timer to let it prove. Once your hands are effectively clean, you open the message, letting yourself scoff.

keigo baby 🐦

Just finished a photoshoot, could really use a donut right now :/

Attached to his message is a picture of himself, and honestly, he looks really fucking good. It takes pretty much everything in you not to collapse and die. God.

You look up a picture of a donut on Google - they sold out today, and you are not going to make one just for Keigo - and send it to him. For my hardworking fake boyfriend, you send with it. Mostly to emphasize fake for both of you. Yourself especially.

keigo baby 🐦

Fake??? :( sweetheart, u hurt me

Your mind stops working when you read his text, so you leave him on read.

The next time you see Keigo in person is when you’re contemplating whether or not you should keep… hanging out with him.

The contract only has a little over a month left, so it’s not as if it’d be that hard to deal with… besides, it’d be easier on the both of you when this whole thing inevitably ends. You don’t see yourself being able to be around him without thinking about kissing him over and over. Not now, at least. You hope it changes. You hope it’s a weird phase or something.

Keigo texts you and invites - demands - you over (his excuse is that with the hero conference coming up soon many of the smaller heroes are taking care of villains and giving him more time off) and honestly, if you’re really gonna try to stop talking to him as much, this could be your goodbye or whatever. Also, he mentioned wine, and you need to get drunk. Like, “give me an entire bottle so I can cope with the idea of falling for you because I know that you don’t feel the same and I am simply trying to ride out the rest of this “relationship” so I don’t ruin our dynamic and chemistry while we’re being watched by literally the entire world” drunk.

Yeah. It’s been a rough few weeks.

Every time you go to Keigo’s apartment it reminds you of just how broke you are, but you suppose the apartment itself is fitting. It’s definitely modern, but it holds the clutter of Keigo’s personality - blankets strung everywhere, LED lights, a poster of Endeavor hung up in his closet (but you’re sworn to secrecy about that, you pinky promised). When you knock on his door he doesn’t answer, and it’s a good minute and a half before you get a text that says “it’s open, come in” and you sigh, because again, why him?

He’s sitting on the couch, and when he sees you he smiles like he didn’t just refuse to open the door because he’s too lazy. “Well, if it isn’t the love of my life,” he says, and for a second you can fool yourself into believing it’s genuine.

“I’m just here for the wine, dude,” you tease, and he mocks offense at your words.

“Ouch. Mid-relationship rejection.”

Nonetheless, Keigo gets the wine himself (selective little shit) and two glasses, pours each of you one. It isn’t long before you’ve had at least three glasses but no more than five, and you’re maybe, perhaps, a little drunk.

Keigo is, too, so you’re not really alone, but he’s talking about something Endeavor did like he’s the greatest hero in the world. It makes you smile, just a bit, but then again, you’re usually sentimental when you’re drunk, so maybe it’s just that. Or maybe it’s because you like him. It doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey, Kei,” you murmur when he’s done with his story. He hums, takes another sip out of his glass. “What happens when this is over?”

You look at your feet, scrunching up your toes inside your socks so you have something to look at. Then your eyes move up more, to the top of his coffee table, and then finally they land on him, and he looks gorgeous. He always does.

Keigo blinks once, twice, then shrugs, goes back to his wine. “Dunno. I hope we’re still friends, though,” he says.

“Friends? You want to be friends?”

You’re drunk. You should go to sleep, or go home, or something. Talking is not something you should be doing.

“What?” Keigo asks, but more like he didn’t hear you rather than he didn’t understand, so you take your chance, even through your hazed mind.

“Nothing,” you say, swirling the wine in your glass. “Forget about it.”

And it seems like he does, because when you wake up on his couch the next morning with a killer headache and he stumbles out of his room with a groan he doesn’t mention anything about it even when he talks about everything else.

Keigo texts you a few days later, a picture of him posing with another wine bottle.

keigo baby 🐦

round 2??

The picture is cute. He’s smiling, all lips and curves and blonde hair and tan skin. He’s dressed in sweats, you can see, but he still looks like a model. It makes your heart sink and fly at the same time.

y/n

can’t, sorry. have to stay late at angel cakes. i’ll see u at the hero conference tho

He doesn’t text you for a while after that.

The conference comes quick, and before you know it you’re in another hotel suite, getting makeup done. It doesn’t take as much dressing up - your dress is shorter this time, less formal, your makeup less extravagant. You don’t feel nervous, not like last time, but you don’t necessarily feel comfortable either. Your makeup artist is different this time.

It takes a considerably less amount of time for you to get ready, and you stare at yourself in the mirror before it’s time to go. Your dress is beautiful - blue, royal, deep and light at the same time and gorgeous. Simple, too, nothing too out there. When you step out of the hotel room you notice Keigo’s still in his hero costume, but you suppose he has to be. You don’t match with him like you did last time.

There’s no banter, no teasing, no compliments. The ride to the venue is quiet. Keigo sends you a look at one point - a “tell me what’s wrong” look - but you only shrug, offer him the best smile you can, which apparently isn’t convincing, because he frowns when he sees it. You wish he wouldn’t frown so much.

The conference is short, but maybe you’re just distracted. An usher walks you to your seat at a VIP table and it seems like you sit down and then it ends. You clap for Keigo, smile like you’re endlessly proud of him - and you are, even if it doesn’t show that well tonight - and watch him make a scene becuase that’s what he does. He winks at you at one point during the night, while he’s talking into the microphone, and you know it’s for the publicity. The conference ends significantly earlier than the awards show, however, so you don’t have to stay in the suite for the night.

The ride back to the suite seems shorter than the ride to the venue and it takes you maybe twenty minutes to wipe the makeup off of your face and take off your dress. You walk across the hall to Keigo’s room, knock on the door. He answers.

“Okay, I’m gonna head out, I’m feelin’ kinda tired,” you tell him with a small smile. “Just wanted to say bye.”

“Let me walk you home,” he says instead, and your brain yells at you no!

“No, it’s fine, Kei -”

“Please. I want to.”

He’s never said that before, and a part of you knows you wouldn’t be able to say no to him even if he hadn’t, so you nod and let him follow you out of the hotel and to your apartment. The walk is silent and it makes you feel uneasy but you can’t really do anything about it, not with what you’re trying to do, so nothing happens until you reach your apartment.

You know where this is going, even if you don’t want to, so you take a deep breath, hold the door open for him so Keigo can come inside. He looks at you weirdly for a moment but then enters your apartment, standing in the junction of your entryway and living room like he’s uncomfortable. You let him, then walk to the kitchen for something to drink.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Keigo scoffs. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”

You know he noticed - it’s impossible not to, but you didn’t think… you didn’t think he’d call you out on it. Your pause is evident, but you pretend like it didn’t happen at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

“Yeah? Wanna rethink that, sweetheart?”

The almost-malice in his tone when he says your usual pet name startles you, and when you look up at Keigo it seems like it startled him, too, doe-eyed and looking at you. You shake your head, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room behind him to throw your things down, try to pass the message to him that this is not good. “You’re wrong,” you say.

“I’m not - I’m not wrong, Y/N,” he says, turning around to look at you. “Every time I see you it seems like you’re pushing me away, like you’re not here, and I don’t know if I did something, but I -” he pauses, runs a gloved hand over his face and you want to tell him that it’s not his fault, but that would lead to you telling him everything, and you can’t. “I miss you.”

His voice is broken. When you speak again, your voice sounds like his, but somehow worse. Smaller. “You’re wrong,” you insist. You know he’s not.

“I’m not,” he pushes back. “I’d like to think that in the months we’ve been -”

He stops himself, and you take your opportunity. “That we’ve been what? Dating? We’re not dating, Keigo, we both signed a fucking contract to benefit your public image! This is nothing!”

You have no idea what you’re doing. It’s not nothing. It will never be nothing.

“You think this is nothing?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you know for sure we’ll still be friends when this is over.”

He can’t, and he won’t. You’re trying really hard not to cry, but it hurts to fight with him like this, and it hurts that you think you’re falling in love with him, and it hurts that if you tell him it’ll ruin everything and it hurts, so a few tears slip out anyways.

“Y/N,” Keigo says, and his voice is so soft. You want to melt into him, but you shy away when he reaches for you. “Please just tell me -”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choke out. “I can’t - I’m - I’m calling it. I’ll send my lawyer if you need anything but I just…”

You can’t even look at him. Has he always been so far away?

“Get out, Keigo.”

It sounds so cold, so unfamiliar, coming from your mouth and you half expect another person to have said it entirely. This isn’t you, this isn’t how you and Keigo act, this isn’t… this isn’t it. There’s a pause, like he’s waiting for something, but then you hear him sigh - practically feel him deflate, and then he walks out of your apartment, door shutting quietly behind him.

It’s so quiet when he’s gone.

You take a deep breath, walk back to your bedroom, curl into yourself on the bed, and cry in the blue light of the sky left behind by the sun.

#GUYS I LOVE ANGST I HOPE I HYPED THIS UP ENOUGH #AHHHHHHH #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha hawks x reader #hawks bnha x reader #keigo takami imagine #x reader #reader insert #imagine #tcoy #the color of you

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ddaengyoonmin · 4 years ago

Text

-Never-

Vampire!Jimin x reader

Word count: 1300

-Angst with a Happy ending.-

Warnings: Sligt mentions of drinking blood. Mentions of sex but not gone into detail. Just some angsty vampire things. Jimin cries

a/n: from my fic request game! I got carried awayyyyy lol requested by the amazing and lovely @dreamyjoons ((vampire angst?? :’) you really know. me. I love you))

((((also this is very unedited)))))

ENJOY! <3

--------

“Forever is only a long time if you make it feel that way.” Jimin shrugged as if he hadn’t just spoken the most ridiculous words. He brushed his hand against your cheek in an (almost) loving way. He was laying in bed next to you shirtless with a goofy smile on his face. Both of you still coming down from an amazing fuck that you’d just had.

His voice was so smooth and spoke out each syllable like his words were the soft air floating through windchimes.

“You don’t want me forever.” You muttered.

Jimin shrugged.

You knew it was a lot to expect from him. You’d grown used to Jimin’s way of feeling emotions. After being alive as many years as he had been, he didn’t seem to grow attached to things the same way.

Even you.

It hurt to know that you could just be another fleeting memory in his long list of life adventures.

But when you’d seen that man walk into your tiny bookstore, you knew that he was the start of your life changing.

Everywhere he went he drew in attention, his silver hair alone made him stand out against the rest of the usual crowds, but he also tended to dress in all black, with lots of heavy silver necklaces, earrings and rings covering himself.

You fell in love, fast and hard.

Only to learn a couple weeks into seeing him that he had some...special dietary needs.

He hadn’t meant for you to find out at all actually.

When Jimin slept around it usually benefited him if his partners didn’t know he was a vampire. There were far too many partners and that was far too sensitive of information.

But something about the way you had smelled one night when his head was buried into the crook of your neck as you rode him…

It made his normally hidden fangs pop out with a loud snap, like bone cracking.

You’d been frightened you hurt him, quickly hopping off of him only to see his already pale skin gone even paler. A slight purple hue formed around his eyes and all of his veins seemed to be visible and bringing themselves to the top of his skin.

Someone saner might have screamed and ran, but instead you had become concerned for him.

The convenience of you knowing his secrets made you his ideal person to go to for a bite or a fuck.

You knew deep down that's all this was.

So why in the world was he asking to turn you.

“Jimin...I think we need to stop this.” Your voice quivered. You’d been terrified to say those words, but you knew that it wasn’t healthy for you to keep coming back to this vampires bed so often.

His fangs stayed tucked in their place, but as Jimin’s jaw dropped you could see the color from his skin face and viens start to spiderweb out from under his eyes.

“What.” He growled, furious and dark eyes were meeting yours and piercing through you intensly. “Why?”

You started to get out of his bed and gather your things, getting your clothes back on with your panties first. (Finding them flung completely out of his room and into the hallway)

“y/n.” he growled once again, in an even lower rumble. “What do you mean.” he was sitting up in bed, his face still obviously strained. “I-I give you everything…” he muttered to himself.

As you continued to gather your things silently, his eyes were blinking quickly and he was zoning out into the corner of the room, his lips moving but nothing coming out.

He seemed to be racking his brain for any sort of thing he’d done just then to make you want to leave him.

He was so dense.

“Jimin. You’re selfish.” You finally were dressed with your shoes and bag in hand, standing in his doorway as he still sat upright but covered from the waist down under his sheets.

“Selfish?” He spat back your word.

“Yes.” you nodded. “You want to make me live forever so that you can have me to fuck whenever you want me. That’s not good enough for me.”

You spun around to leave but the familiar rush of wind moving past your face told you before you had even seen it with your eyes that Jimin was in front of you blocking your way out now.

You were surprised though to see something that almost might be a hint of sadness on his face along with his confusion.

“But I-” Jimins fists clenched together tightly.

“You what Jimin?” You rolled your eyes.

“I do love you…” He whispered so quietly that it almost got missed.

“You…”

“I love you y/n!” He shouted out as if to make up for how quietly he’d spoken it the first time around.

It was your turn to stand before him in shock and confusion.

“Y-you...You can’t just say things like that to get me to turn for you. That’s not fair.” You felt tears start to well up in your eyes and you started to raise up a fist to land against his chest, but he caught your wrist in his hand.

“I’m not just saying that.” His voice was quiety but sincere. “y/n I haven’t been with anyone since you...I lied.”

Your jaw dropped open and you froze in his touch.

“But, you said...we weren’t…” You choked on your words, each one getting caught up in your throat on it’s way out.

“I know what I said.” He sighed. “But how could I tell you that you weren’t allowed to be with anyone else. How could I take away the chance that you’d find someone better for you. Someone who could give you all the human things you could ever need…” You’d never seen Jimin cry, but a single tear had now escaped from the corner of one of his eyes. “Someone who wouldn’t take from you so much…” He wiped the tear away with the back of his hand. “I know I’m selfish, I know. I have nothing to offer you back here, and you…” He looked you up and down, “Are just everything...Everything I could ever want.” Jimin fell into a full body sob now, unable to contain his emotions. Emotions you didn’t even realize he was capable of.

Not able to find the right words to say, you took your hand and placed your palm on the soft skin of his cheek, it was slightly wet from the tears that had started to pour.

You gave him a soft smile.

“Hey…” You tried to bring his head to face yours. “I didn’t realize.”

Jimin dragged his forearm across both of his eyes to clear away the rest of his tears and sucked in a deep breath.

“I know. You couldn’t have.” He sighed. “I knew this would h-happen.” He seemed to almost break into another sob but held himself back “Happen eventually. I just didn’t realize it’d be so soon.” He sighed.

“Jimin I’m not leaving you…” You chuckled. “Not now you complete idiot.” you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. Your hands slid up and down the skin of his back as you held him to you.

He accepted your hug but seemed to stand frozen in confusion.

“Jimin I love you too. If you really want me…”

He cut you off to answer. “Fuck yes I do. I’m so sorry I tried to hide it.” his arms finally returned your hug and he held you into him even tighter.

“Does this mean you’ll turn for me?” He asked, his eyes bright and excited.

“We’ll see.” You chuckled, knowing that whenever you decide to tell him your decision, you already knew the answer.

It’d be the one where you and him stay hand in hand forever.

#jimin x reader #vampire!jimin #bts x reader #jimin angst #jimin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jimin x y/n #bangtan x reader #bts angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts drabble #jimin drabble

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musical-shit-show · 4 years ago

Text

Two Sides: Chapter 5

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, awkward attempts at flirting, panic attacks, cursing, a little bit of angst if you squint

Word Count: 1,930

Author’s Note: Been on a writing kick so I figured I’d post Chapter 5! Not much to say about this chapter, just some good old fashioned character development a.k.a. Beej being a pissbaby and Cassandra being an anxiety factory. Please check out my Masterlist here and my About Me page. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Both Cassandra and Beetlejuice called after the dark-haired girl, but she had already shut the door with a forceful yank. Causing mischief was something Lydia had perfected from spending a lot of time with Beetlejuice, and while she didn’t want to admit it, she was sort of glad her roommate had brought him back. Life without her undead companion was almost getting too normal for her liking.

She knew that this day was already turning out to be a lot to handle for Cassandra, but Lydia tried not to beat herself up about how everyone had been introduced. Nothing ever went according to plan in the Deetz/Maitland household, so it was just as well that the day had already erupted into total chaos. Still, Lydia hoped that her roommate would roll with the punches and make it through the weekend relativity unscathed.

After Lydia shut the door, Beetlejuice’s demeanor changed almost instantly. He leaned casually on the end of Cassandra’s wooden bed frame, his eyes scanning her, an impish glint in his eye. His green hair was now mixed with pale yellow and light pink colorations.

“So....does your hair always do that…?” Cassandra asked awkwardly, attempting to make some semblance of a conversation. The air in the room was still unbelievably tense, even after Lydia had properly introduced the two of them. A smug look flashed across the demon’s face.

“My hair’s sorta like a mood ring,” he said matter-of-factly, picking at the dead skin around his fingernails, “This shade of yellow means that I’m curious about ya. Pretty cool, huh?” He secretly wanted to impress her, and he thought the nonchalant act would do just the trick.

“And what does pink mean?” Cassandra asked, enthralled by the swirl of hues that now adorned his head.

“That I think you’re hot, babes,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He gave her another once over as Cassandra held back an uncomfortable laugh, taken aback at how forward he was.

“Oh, I’m sure you say that to all the girls you manhandle after they unwittingly unleash you into the mortal realm,” she said casually, doing her best to hide her discomfort with him. She did not take getting hit on well by living men, let alone men that had been dead for probably decades. Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows, wrongly suspecting that she was flirting back.

“What, are ya talking about that kiss?” he said innocently, his stocky frame inching closer to her, “Look, new girl, that was just a gesture of appreciation. You should be flattered.” Cassandra rolled her eyes, frustrated with the demon’s lack of self-awareness.

“Okay, first off, my name is Cassandra,” she said childishly, “Second, I’m not flattered by you fucking with me. The last hour of my life has been insane, and I really don’t need your help making it any crazier.” Beetlejuice felt the venom in her tone, but soldiered on until she cracked. Breathers like her always did, and he knew she was just putting on a front to seem tougher than she really was.

“Listen, babes, you gotta relax a little. Take a walk on the undead side,” he purred, “Why don’t I show ya—?” He stopped her pacing and grabbed her waist. Cassandra let out a small yelp of anger, pushing him away and plopping onto the bed. The comforter was now decidedly dirtier since the demon had laid on it, but she didn’t care. Hot tears of infuriation filled her eyes.

“Look, the last thing I want to do is get down and dirty with some dead guy that just appeared in my room and has been messing with me from the second I got here,” she said, in a quiet but sharp tone, “So please, for the love of all that is good and decent, could you, just, leave?” Instantly the pink and yellow swirls in his hair were mixed with a deep red and blue. Beetlejuice stared angrily at the floor, not used to being shot down so pointedly. This kind of rejection brought up emotions he wasn’t quite keen on revisiting, but he was too prideful to admit he had gone too far.

“Fine,” he muttered, not bothering to make eye contact with the already irked woman, “You’re not my type anyways, sweetheart. Guess I didn’t know Lydia had such a stuck up, goody-two-shoes breather for a roommate. See ya around, new girl.” With that he vanished from the room, a tiny *pop* emanating from the spot where he stood.

Cassandra let out another angry cry, overwhelmed with the day’s events. She understood where Lydia coming from, leaving the two of them together to get better acquainted. After all she was right: Cassandra was the one that stupidly summoned him. But it clearly didn’t occur to her that Beetlejuice would go back to his old self faster than lightning, making Cassandra incredibly uneasy in the process. A few moments later, a soft knock on the door broke her out of her emotional spiraling.

“Cassandra? It’s Barbara,” the blonde woman said softly, a tiny crack between the door and its frame forming, “Everything okay?” Cassandra quickly wiped away a small tear and cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah everything is fine,” she said unconvincingly. Barbara took that as an invitation to open up the door fully and enter the guest room, Adam following quietly behind her. “I just, uh, met another dead person in this house. The guy who looks homeless and smells like a sewer.”

“Beetlejuice,” the couple deadpanned in tandem. Adam groaned in slight frustration, rubbing the back of his neck at the thought of the raucous demon back in his former home.

“Of course, of course he would be back here,” he said as Barbara rubbed his shoulders, attempting to relax him, “After we had just cleaned up from his last mess...did Lydia summon him?” Adam’s expression softened when he saw the guilt on Cassandra’s face. She had just met these people and had now accidentally freed an entity they clearly didn’t have much fondness for.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Cassandra let a few frustrated tears fall from her eyes, not able to even look up at the couple. Barbara sat down next to her on the bed, placing her hand on top of Cassandra’s. The living woman felt no sensation of being touched, but appreciated the gesture of comfort.

“It’s okay, honey,” Barbara said genuinely, her kind face illuminating the gloomy air in the room, “We aren’t upset with you, right Adam?” The woman nudged her husband quite forcefully, catching him slightly off-guard.

“No, no of course not,” Adam added, chuckling slightly, “It’s just, Beetlejuice can sometimes be...well, a handful.”

“Really?” Cassandra sniffed, drying her tears, “I hadn’t noticed.” The three of them cracked small smiles, slightly easing the disquieting air that hung in the room, “Is he always such a dick?” Barbara and Adam looked at each other, silently confirming the living woman’s question. Cassandra sighed. Not two hours into being in this house, and she had met three dead people and had already pissed off the most irritating of them all.

The Maitlands were at least acting civil towards her, even treating her with kindness. But there was something about Beetlejuice that made Cassandra’s temperature rise. The condescending smirk, the overzealous grabbiness, the complete unawareness of social cues...it all added up to a huge pain in the ass that she was going to have to deal with for the entire weekend.

‘You have to be nice,’ Cassandra thought, ‘For Lydia. He’s best friends with Lydia, and you need to be nice. Just for the weekend. And then you’ll never have to see that creep again.’ “Try and stick it out, just for a few days,” Barbara said sweetly, “He really isn’t that bad when you get to know him.” Adam smiled unconvincingly, doing nothing to quell Cassandra’s discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, smiling as genuinely as she could muster, “I still have a little more settling in to do, but I’ll see you guys downstairs soon, okay?” The two ghosts nodded and disappeared in a flash, leaving the living woman alone once again. Cassandra closed her eyes yet again, finding it easier to process the events that had transpired since she had entered the house. She just had to accept that this was what Lydia’s world was like, even though she had no idea it existed.

She couldn’t blame Lydia for not telling her all these years, but she was still shocked to know that her best friend and roommate had successfully kept this from her for so long. A wave of emotions crashed down on her: hurt, anger, confusion, curiosity, excitement even. How was she supposed to make it through the rest of this trip without feeling like a mental patient? She felt a tightness in her chest, a telltale sign her anxiety had taken hold of her psyche.

Beetlejuice materialized in the room only seconds after the Maitlands vanished, watching her intently. Now he was intentionally making his presence unknown so he could further survey the damage without causing another scene. His hair was now a swirl of purple and red, creating a sea of maroon locks that adorned his head. He watched as Cassandra steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, attempting to gain her composure. She let a few stress-induced tears escape from her eyes but quickly brushed them away, as she shook her head and moved to unzip her duffel bag. Beetlejuice felt a twinge of guilt, a blue streak reappearing in his hair. He hadn’t met anyone new since he infiltrated the Maitlands’ home all those years ago, and the prospect of fresh meat to torment was too difficult to pass up. He feared he had gone too far, but those thoughts were replaced by annoyance and disdain.

‘Who does this breather think she is?’ he thought angrily, stewing in the corner of the room, still eyeing Cassandra as she methodically placed her clothes in an empty dresser, ‘Since when did Lydia get a new best friend? And how could that best friend possibly be a bigger mess than I am?!’

In all of his years as a bio-exorcist, Beetlejuice had never been turned down by a human so abruptly. Well, other than Lydia of course, but that was a different situation entirely. When it came to consenting adult breathers, Beetlejuice had them on their backs in no time. At their core, he knew that they loved the idea of breaking the rules, and getting pleasured by a demon was about the most sinful thing imaginable.

But this one? This trembling, crying, self-conscious mess that stood before him? She had made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with him, try as he might to be as friendly as he possibly could with her, though his definition of friendly was certainly more abrasive and forward than the average person’s, living or dead.

And the thought that this was the person Lydia was now spending all of her time with and not goofing off with him? Well, that only damaged Beetlejuice’s bruised ego even more. What made her so goddamn special?

Beetlejuice could feel himself growing more and more contemptuous towards Cassandra, but decided to at least attempt to be civil towards her, for Lydia’s sake. He was her best friend after all, and he wasn’t going to let this annoying breather change that over the course of one weekend.

Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun when Lyds wasn’t around...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Please like/comment/reblog and feel free to drop an ask for any requests/feedback!

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

Text

Honey & Velvet - Part 6

A/N: We love a little cat and mouse game, don’t we? Either way, enjoy. Once you get to the end, you’ll know what happens next chapter ;) If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know, and as always, feedback and comments are always welcome! xx

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: none really, sexual tension (dot dot dot)

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

After Maxwell had left your office, you gave it a few moments before storming out and attempting to track him down and to make him atone for what he had just done. But he was long gone; your mind had taken just enough time to make its mind up to give him an easy escape. Sighing, your shoulders slumped as you let ran a hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Y/N?” you were snapped back into reality by the sound of Adina’s concerned voice, as she looked up at you with a confused expression etched on her features. Plastering on the best smile you could muster, one most accurately described as your customer service best, you feigned innocence, “what the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” your voice was about an octave higher than normal as you turned to go back to your office, “where did he go?”

“Mhmm?” she’d already pointedly made the decision not to question you, especially as of late and her focus was already back on her paperwork.

“Maxwell,” you hissed through gritted teeth, loathing the bit of longing that seemed to seep its way into his name, “where did Maxwell Lord go?”

“Oh,” she peered up at your over her glasses, trying her best to keep off the little smirk that threatened to bubble up. She was slowly, but surely, putting two and two together. Not that it was particularly difficult at this point, subtly wasn’t your (or Maxwell’s) specialty, “he asked for directions to the restroom as he was leaving. Dunno where he went after that.”

You inhaled sharply at the revelation, inadvertently picturing him in your mind. You could imagine him stalking into the secluded bathroom, locking the door behind him as leaned against the cool tile of the wave, taking care of the…small problem you had created. You wondered what he sounded like while he worked himself to the point of no return, if he was vocal, if your name rolled off his lips as he spilled into his hand.

But no.

You couldn’t (and wouldn’t) dwell on that idea too much. If you did, you might completely lose any sense of self collection that remained and resort to doing the same thing to yourself. Biting the inside of your cheek to control yourself, you gave her a swift nod before stepping back inside your office and slamming the door.

The nerve. The absolute nerve of that man to walk into your office and pull such a stunt. But…then again, perhaps it was only fair after what happened over the weekend. It had been an accident, more or less, but it you weren’t quite sure that it warranted the little assault he had just committed. To stand him up outside of the boardroom was one thing, a light snub at best, but for him to make it personal and come into your office like a loose cannon? That was a whole different story.

But you had kissed him first.

That was besides the point you reminded yourself. You never would have pushed yourself on him like that if he hadn’t started it. You were…just trying to finish things.

Sure. You could live with that interpretation of things, even though it was only half true at best.

You flopped down in your chair and sighed. It was going to be hard to focus on anything else for the remainder of the day. All you could think about were his lips on yours, all over your chest, how they’d felt surprisingly…soft. Gentle even. And right. You’d half expected him to be as decent of a kisser as a limp fish, but he was pleasantly good. He knew his way around your body already. Maybe you’d just been desperate?

That must have been it. But it couldn’t have been desperation…could it? You’d been getting plenty of attention lately, mainly from Ben, who you were surprisingly on good terms with for once, so you weren’t exactly touch starved at the moment. So that meant…it really could have only left one reasonable answer.

Absolutely not. At least that’s what you told yourself in your head. You were not attracted to the spoiled brat of a man that sported last season’s suits and had hair the color of decaying corn. There was absolutely nothing attractive about him; you’d rather admit you found a squished slug handsome before you said the same about Maxwell Lord.

And yet…he was the one your thoughts kept drifting back to. He was the you thought about as you had brought yourself to orgasm late at night; his name was the only you allowed yourself to whisper. It was his ring clad hand that had been around your throat, turning you on much more than you thought about possible.

“Fuck,” you sighed at yourself, at your foolishness, under your breath. Tossing your head back, you stared at the messy pattern of the cork on your office ceiling, hoping it would provide you with some sort of answer. But it didn’t; instead you stared and stared, and the longer you looked, the more it felt like it was mocking you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your reflection in the mirror, the same one Maxwell had stood in front of not long before. Pulling yourself up, you walked over to it, and started to fix your hair. It was a mess, locks out of place and wild, but you made swift work of straightening it back and making it look semi decent. Not like you’d just been on your back practically begging a man to fuck you.

The buttons on your blouse were mismatched, once again, a common theme in your life lately. Shaking your head at yourself you completely undid the whole thing and let it hang open for a moment, studying the upper half of your torso. The delicate skin of your breasts, collarbones and neck were flushed still, and the ghosts of bites and nibbles were already popping up, colorful hues of blue and purple. That fucker had really done a number in such a short period of time. While you rued how hard it would be to cover up in the coming days, sure they would attract some unwanted attention…you weren’t as mad as you though you would be.

They served as a reminder that while you had been the one who initiated the fervent slew of kisses, he’d been just as eager. He’s been just as eager to touch you, to feel your soft skin, to finally kiss you. Your soft moans had been like sweet music to ears, and will he would have gladly taken you then and there, he’d done everything in his power to hold back. And it had been a huge struggle, but somehow he’d managed. But still…he’d kissed you. He hadn’t fought you off, or completely denied you. That had to count for something, right?

Just a taste for now. It would have to satiate both of you for now. That’s what he reminded himself while his hands had been all over your body. Just a taste.

The rewards of him waiting, restraining himself would be the sweetest reward of all. At least that’s what he figured.

You slowly put yourself back together, making sure the buttons of your blouse were aligned, an irritated groan living your lips as the phone on your desk began to ring. You weren’t in the mood to speak to anyone earlier, you most certainly weren’t in the mood to speak to anyone now.

Before picking it up, you let out a small fuck, fuck, fuck of frustration. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and you could go back to the afternoon of daydreaming you now had planned.

“Yes?” it sounded more defeated than you cared to admit.

“I’ve got Ben for you, if you’re available,” Adina’s tone was colored with bemusement, almost as if she knew the exact predicament you were in. Hells, she probably did. Half of your office probably did by now, “and uh, he wanted me to specifically mention that it was just business related.”

“Of course,” you turned to sit back and kicked your legs up on your desk, “go ahead and put him through.”

“Is…everything okay, boss?” she was desperate for you to spill more details but wasn’t about to push…not more than necessary anyway, “it seems like you’ve been…preoccupied lately.”

“If only that was the half of it,” you rubbed your brow, “men are a tricky situation.”

“That’s why I only date women,” she joked and you had to admit it had its own appeal, “but don’t let me influence your decision. Men always say that women are so complicated, but I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

“I concur wholeheartedly,” you laughed quietly, “I guess I’d better talk to Ben and see what he wants.”

“Good luck,” she snorted with laughter before you heard the click of a button and Ben was on the other line. You heard about half a breath before you could practically see the smirk on his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Benjamin?” you couldn’t even lie and say you were annoyed to hear from him. After you’d reached your little…whatever you wanted to call it, you felt better. Like you could actually maintain a civil friendship with him, “okay wait, how bad and sarcastic did that sound?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Hit me.”

“I’d wager a solid eight,” he laughed as you groaned, “I don’t take these things personally. I’m not offended, and my heart will go on.”

“Ahh, what a man,” you let some silence hang in the air for a moment, drumming your fingers along on edge of your desk, “what’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask,” he admitted and it was your turn to laugh at him, “it’s nothing big, but I’d appreciate your help.”

“Alright, alright, I suppose that’s only fair,” you had zero clue as to what he could need help with you. He seemed like the type of guy that had it all handled, that wouldn’t dare to ask for help, “what’s this favor then?”

“I have a gala I need to attend this Friday,” he explained and you leaned forward in your seat, trying to figure out what he was getting at, “our company is one of the sponsors for the center that’s throwing the gala and therefore its prudent that we attend and I realize it will likely be a dull affair and-”

“Ben,” you cut him off mid sentence before he could stammer on further, “you’re rambling. Please cut to the chase.”

“Will you be my date to the gala?” it was a rushed question, and it caught you off guard. You hadn’t been out in public with Ben in what seemed like eons; your first concern was what would people think? But then again…did it really matter what they thought? No. No one’s opinion mattered, not as long as you were satisfied with the truth, “please?”

“You want to be seen in public with me?” you joked, almost immediately having made up your mind, already trying to think of what dress you would wear.

“You make it sound like torture. Is the idea that repulsive to you?” you could tell he was joking, but there was a small part of him that was wondering if you were actually going to say yes.

“Oh the contrary,” you reassured him and there was a small sigh of relief on the other end, “I’ll go with you. I’ll be your date.”

“Perfect-”

“On one condition,” of course there was a stipulation attached.

“Name it.”

“Friends only,” you insisted. You wanted to set clear boundaries, to make sure he knew that you weren’t interested in anything else with him, “no sex. No…whatever else. And we don’t even pretend it’s a date.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. You were a reasonable woman for the most part and it was a condition he could easily agree to, “saving yourself for someone else? Mr. Lord perhaps?”

“Oh my - goodbye, Ben,” you wanted to work that little smirk you knew was on his face off. He chuckled on the other end, clearly pleased with his little comment, “this is over for now. Send me details and I’ll see you Friday night.”

“So I was right-”

“Goodbye Ben-”

“You didn’t say no!”

“Ben,” you slammed the phone back into the cradle and let out a long sigh. Well, at least you had plans for a Friday night instead of moping around at home. Plus it would give you an opportunity to go and dress up. Now that was something you could get behind. Even if you were picky when it came to men, you liked to give them something to look at. They could always look but couldn’t touch.

Besides, despite how much you tried to fight it, you knew you were on the prowl for someone else. You knew, at one point or another, things would come to a head and one of you would fully snap. You didn’t know when, or where, but something deep within you knew that it would happened.

And you vowed to break Maxwell Lord before he could break you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was too much. You knew it was as soon as you had spotted it hanging on the rack at Bergdorf Goodman’s. Ben had told that the affair would be formal, but not overly so, and had insisted that whatever you had at home would probably suffice.

When you’d glanced through your closet, nothing had struck your fancy, nothing screamed pick me, pick me. Even though it didn’t really matter, and you’d be most likely spend the evening a space full of older people who would gloss you over, you still wanted…something special. You’d all but slammed your closet doors shut and made up your mind to go shopping. There was nothing but disappoint to be found in several stores, but at one of your last stops, you had found it. The dress you had been searching for, despite not being consciously aware of it.

But something, deep within you had caused you to gravitate towards the glittering gown. Something even more primal had compelled you to purchase it. You didn’t even bother to try it on, not wanting to waste time in the overly posh store and feel the judgment of the aging women that worked the registers. They were often the worst; they’d try and up sell the most expensive things and then call you a two bit whore as soon as you left.

But with this, you didn’t care. You knew all eyes would be on you and for one you night, you welcomed it.

By the time Ben had arrived to pick you up, you were looking at yourself in the mirror, topping your look off with the oxblood red color. It was indescribably eye catching and hung on your frame perfectly. It was a strappy number, pale pink in color, and glittering at every angle. It left very little to the imagination, but was just enough to be socially appropriate. You, honestly, weren’t planning on getting anything out of this whole evening. You just wanted to feel good…sexy even. That wasn’t a crime after all, right?

“Holy shit…” Ben let out a sigh somewhere between exasperation and pleasure as he met you at his car when the time. Flashing him an innocent smile, you slid into the backseat and followed suit, “I’m pretty sure I mentioned that this was…casual, more or less?”

“You did,” you admitted, feigning innocence, “but you can never be overdressed, can you?”

“I suppose not,” he shook his head, but gave you a gentle nudge with his knee, “if you’re not going to be the death of me, you’ll probably break a few necks when the old geezers get a look at you.”

“Tragic,” you put a hand on your forehead and sighed dramatically.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Conversation with Ben was pleasant, and by the time you arrived, you were feeling strangely at ease. That was until the valet helped you out of the car and you surveyed the swarm of other guests that were in attendance that evening. There were more people than you had anticipated, and a fair number that didn’t look over the hill.

But then your eyes landed on one particular guest, and your heart nearly stopped, plummeting into the bottom of your stomach. It couldn’t be…could it? Of all the people in all the world that had to be there, it had to be him; the golden haired man that had been haunting your every waking thought for the last several weeks.

Ben was behind you, attempting to straighten his bow tie when he noticed your sudden hesitation, the tension in your shoulders, and grim expression on your face, “what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen-”

“Maxwell Lord?” you sighed as your turned back to him, raising an eyebrow in question, “yeah, because I did. What the hell is he doing here?!”

“I-I had no clue,” he insisted, looking around as he tried to spot him in the crowd. His face turned into a mask of worry and confusion; you knew he was being honest. Ben was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar, and you knew he’d never do something that low to you, “I swear it. If I had known he’d be here, I never would have asked you to come.”

“Ben, sorry, it’s just…” you trailed off as you tried to figure out how to convey exactly what you were feeling to him. How were you supposed to explain, and appear rational and sane, to someone that while you loathed Maxwell (more or less), you also harbored a deep, burning desire for him?

“Do you want to go?” he put his hand on the small of your back, almost as if trying to shield from you being seen.

“No, really, it’ll be fine. I’ll suck it up and deal with it,” you promised, linking you arm through his, “but if you see him anywhere near me, warn me so I can run and hide.”

“Running from your demons?”

“Oh no,” you insisted, “Maxwell isn’t my demon…he’s something much more…I can’t describe.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, a little smirk on his face, as he started to lead you inside, “that sounds about right. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself in, silly girl?”

“I wish I knew the half of it,” you sighed heavily, “I wish I knew.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The evening had been going…surprisingly well. You’d managed to avoid your friend finding solace in tucking yourself behind Ben and remaining out of the center of attention. Normally you’d be out and mingling, enjoying the free flowing champagne and good company. But this evening - you remained almost silent, and pretty much as sober as you were quiet. Being the kind gentleman he was, Ben had promised you both make an exit as soon as it became socially acceptable. To say you were counting down the minutes would have been an understatement.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” you whispered into Ben’s ear, hoping for a quick there and back trip. He turned and gave you a nod, a questioning look on his face.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’ll be fine,” you promised, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance, “it’s the ladies room after all, I think it’d be foolish for anyone to try anything there.”

He nodded as you walked away, keeping your eyes training on the floor so you didn’t draw too much attention to yourself. It was difficult with your current state of dress however; maybe you should have stuck to something more simple and muted.

But just before you could reach the reprieve of the privacy of the rest room, you felt a hand on your forearm, trying to stop you and get your attention. You froze in silent horror as you instantly knew who it was. You thought about yanking your arm out of grasp and running away, but instead, you remained there, waiting for his next move. It was all up to him now. Tugging on your hand slowly, you allowed him to turn you around so you were facing him. For once you were surprised to find an almost pleasant expression on his face.

“Miss L/N,” his voice was dripping with honey as he gave you the once over, taking in the dress and how it looked on you. To say it was a pleasing sight to him was a far cry from the truth, “you look positively…stunning.”

For once you didn’t feel like you needed to make a smart remark or give him some sort of witty push back, “Maxwell. Thank you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here this evening,” he dropped your hand and crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning against wall of the quiet hallway. You were both thankful that no one was around and you were more or less secluded, but part of you wished that Ben was there. Maybe you should have let him come.

“I could say the same for you,” you gave him your most dazzling smile as you got ready to turn around and head into the bathroom. You were definitely going to need a breather after that. You already felt hot and flushed from the most minute of touches.

“Here with Mr. Vasquez again,” he commented and you stopped, shrugging your shoulders.

“He’s a friend,” you insisted, feeling the need to prove yourself, like you somehow needed him to understand that. Why? Why did it really matter at the end of the day what Maxwell Lord thought?

“A friend,” he remained unconvinced, tilting his head slightly, only working to anger you further. He just had such a way about him, “and does your friend knew what happened to your neck?”

Your hand instinctively went to the flesh of your throat as you trailed a few fingers over it. The marks he had left all over you had been fading throughout the week, but a few particularly stubborn ones had proven to be a monumental challenge to try and cover. They were still peeking through every so slightly.

“He hasn’t asked and I haven’t volunteered the information,” you narrowed your eyes at him and he let out a soft laugh, “does that amuse you so?”

“Indeed it does,” he took a step closer and suddenly there was very little space between the two of you. You could smell his warm cologne, and tried to look anywhere but him, but your eyes found his. Somehow you were still just as drawn to him know as you had always had been, “you practically throw yourself at me and then hide it? What a shame.”

“You weren’t exactly fighting me off,” you reminded him as nodded slowly. He brought a hand to your face and ran his thumb over your cheekbone. Your breath hitched at the surprisingly gentle touch, “y-you want this just as much as me.”

“I do,” he admitted and you felt a small victory run through your veins at his revelation. He did want you, which he had made very clear, but hearing it like was…something else. It was like you’d just established some sort of common ground. He leaned closer and your lips were inches apart, if you leaned forward even slightly you’d be able to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him, every part of you was desperate to feel his touch again, “do you have any clue how hard it is coming here and seeing you look like that? How everyone’s eyes are on you?”

“Maybe,” you smirked slightly, wetting your lips as you stared at him, “and what about it?”

“I want to rip out the heart of every single man whose eyes have lingered on you, even if it was just a moment too long,” his large hand was on your cheek, lips pressed to you ear as he dropped his voice so only you could hear. It sent a delightful shiver down your spine in both wicked anticipation and a slight bit of fear.

“Oh?” you teased, turning your head ever so slightly to press the faintest of kisses to his cheek, “and just what are you doing to about it, Maxwell?”

“I’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to you,” he trailed a few kisses along your jaw before stopping at your lips and staring into your eyes. You felt like he could see into your soul, and suddenly you didn’t feel like the strong, confident woman you had been playing at all night; you felt vulnerable and weak. Letting out a soft breath, you finally managed to regain some composure.

“And just who do I belong to?” you knew what he was saying, what he was attempting to get at, but you still wanted to hear it from his mouth. He put his hands on either side of your face, keeping your gaze trained on it; it was firm and commanding, but not too harsh or rough.

“You are mine,” he stated and you slowly found yourself nodding in acquiescence. You were his; he had instilled something in you that kept pulling you back in long ago. And here you were, at the precipice of giving into him, “and everyone will know it.”

Where was the brat that you wanted to be? Where was the woman that vowed she would not bow, bend, or break to the will of one man? Where the was the woman that would never give into Maxwell Lord?

You didn’t know her. At least not in the moment. At least not when the familiar fluttering had started in your belly and the throbbing between your legs increased.

He brought his hand to your throat and pressed ever so slightly, causing your lips to part with a surprised gasp. Then, in a surprisingly intimate gesture, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours, a contented sound leaving his mouth, “say it. I need to hear you say it. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you agreed quietly, “I am yours.”

And then he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you with a hunger and urgency than you had never felt before. And you…gave in. Just like that, just like you had been wanting to you, even if you were loathe to admit to yourself.

But just like that, you were all for him.

So you kissed him back, and wrapped your arms his neck, relinquishing control to him. It was frenzied tango, slowly crescendoing into something more, and you were so lost in what you were doing, you didn’t even remember where you were or what you had originally intended on doing. Until someone cleared their throat, and you pulled apart, pushing Maxwell away from you.

“I was wondering what happened to you,” Ben’s face was a mixture of surprise and concern as he spotted you. Once you’d been gone for some time he’d come going for you, just to make sure you were okay, “is…everything alright?”

“Ben,” you just knew you must have looked a sight but tried to play it off, “I…ugh, yes, everything’s fine.”

“I can see that,” he snorted lightly with laughter and Maxwell tried to smooth out his suit, “I’ll just wait for you and we can leave whenever you want.”

“Actually,” you surprised even yourself with your next words, “you can go without me. I’ll…be okay.”

Max raised an eyebrow at you, but kept his expression neutral as Ben gawked but nodded, giving you a small wave before turning the corner and heading out. You didn’t need to expand further.

“Are you…sure about this?” he searched your face as if to make sure you were positive. As much of an asshole as he could be, he wasn’t going to take this any further without you being fully willing. You turned to him and nodded, biting your lower lip.

“Yes,” you said as you turned to him, “I want this. I want you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#Maxwell Lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #reader insert #ww84 #honey & velvet

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talk1about7seventeen · 4 years ago

Text

ღ Saw You In A Dream ღ

Summary: Virgil keeps dreaming about a mysterious boy he has yet to meet. Turns out it’s his soulmate.

Warning: Mild cursing, anxious Virgil, happy Patton, sleep Janus, chaotic Remus, low self esteem, mentions of caffeine, mentions of sex.

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, and Remus.

Word Count: 1969

Ship/ Pairing: Janus x Remus (Dukeceit - Romantic.) Virgil x Patton (Moxiety - Romantic.)

AU: Human: You dream about your soulmate until you meet them in person/ realize who they are.

Song Inspiration: Saw You In A Dream - The Japanese House

I hope you enjoy! ☆=(ゝω･)

---

“Hey, don’t worry Virgil! Maybe I’ll see you around or something, if you’d like I could---”

The alarm rang at the worst possible time waking Virgil up from the angelic voice of the boy he couldn’t ever quite remember the face of. His voice however, he couldn’t forget it. Smooth like buttermilk and warm like a Summer’s day. Virgil didn’t recall it exactly, but he was certain he had a gorgeous smile. Anyone who treated him so.....nicely....must.

Pushing his bangs out of his face, he sat up and pulled on his purple stitched jacket which laid on top of his messy bed. One of his pillows was hanging off the side of his bed and his favorite stuffie laid lonely on the floor. His anxiety spiked as he saw his comfort item left there untouched. Quickly, he scooped the old teddy bear from the creaky wooden floor boards and sat him on the innermost corner of the bed on the remaining pillow that touched the mauve walls.

The alarm on his phone blared on, seemingly getting louder and louder as each precious second passed by. Virgil turned, shoulders rising parallel to his jawline. “Too....early....for this...” He groaned, slamming his finger on the button to turn off the ungodly noise. In the atmosphere now drifted silence. Virgil let out a sigh and began to gather his things for the day.

“Not so fast, emo boy!” Remus grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt as he tried to pass by the kitchen. “Ugh, put me down you neon disaster.” Virgil fought back, swatting the air around him, attempting to hit the taller being behind him. He could never move fast enough to catch Remus though. “Boys,” A voice called out from down the hall. They both turned, Remus’ wide eyed with Virgil still in his rather strong grip. Janus, their other roommate sauntered out of the darkness into the small glow of the kitchen light with it’s faint green hues. Janus pressed a mug to his lips and took a long gulp of his cold coffee. “If you’re going to kill each other, keep the house and I out of it.” He motioned to the counter and placed the cup into the microwave.

“Up late again, Snakey?” Remus dropped Virgil and walked up behind Janus, wrapping his arms around the even taller boy’s waist. “When am I not...?” Virgil looked away as they chatted, intertwined with each other like two pieces of red string that connected at the fingertips. This was no real surprise for him, he was use to seeing the two so affectionate. That’s how it always was when you found your soulmate....

Virgil couldn’t really understand how. Maybe it was his lack of experience with romance, or maybe he just refused to believe in something that he was convinced would never apply to him. Love....now that was something he could laugh at. Who on Earth could love him? Besides Janus and that dumpster fire of a person he was tied to, no one else really stuck with him. He was convinced it was how easily he could push other people away or his unfriendly nature. No matter which one it was exactly, the only thing close to love he would ever get was inanimate objects that never spoke back and those two drooling all over each other. The love that he did get, wasn’t the kind he was searching for. Virgil appreciated what he got immensely, without Janus and Remus, he probably would feel more alone than he already does. But they didn’t look at him how they looked at each other; no one looked at him that way.

“I should head out.” Virgil announced as Janus pulled his warmed up coffee cup out of the kitchen appliance and set it back down in front of him. “See ya!” Remus stuck out his tongue to Virgil and went back to embracing his lover. “Stay safe.” Janus told him without looking up, exhaustion closing in on him similarly like how one would imagine Remus’ embraces to be like; noticeable and slightly aggressive.

Leaving the house, he popped in his headphones and pressed shuffle on his Spotify playlist named: Drowning out the fucking from the next room. This playlist included and not limiting to, Evanescence, Fall Out Boy, and MCR (Obviously.) Why he made this playlist started off as a joke and then transformed into him successfully being able to block out even the most unholy sounds, like people talking to him, or Remus being Remus.

As he walked down the street with his hood up, the words of the mystery boy played in his head. Who was he? Why was he so often in his dreams? Maybe it was pure coincidence. That he was so low that his brain felt the need to create a love interest out of thin air for the lonely boy. Wouldn’t that be something? Ridiculous....Virgil thought to himself. On autopilot, he went through the motions of walking up to his local coffee shop and ordering something for Remus, Janus, and himself. The barista who knew him by face at this point asked him what he wanted. He answered the same most every time, only occasionally switching up the order. It was easy to stick with what he knew, and it never disappointed, not when it’s a hot cup of coffee with caffeine you could practically taste just from the scent.

“Have a great day, sir!” She smiled handing Virgil his hot coffee as well as a baked good for Janus and an espresso drink for Remus. Not that the borderline chaotic evil idiot needed so much coffee, because he surely did not. But Virgil would rather just go along with it to avoid conflict. “You too.” Virgil tried to push a smile since she was always nice to him. As Virgil began to walk out the door, he noticed the sky was particularly blue today. I’ll take a little detour...He thought to himself, nodding once.

Passing Virgil by were children with parents smiling and giggling as the warm breeze blew through their hair, people walking their dogs, and teens making their way to the skate park which was about a ten minute walk from where he was. The buildings lined in a row opened up to a park with a large water fountain in the midst of the area. Why not..He shrugged making his way into the park. Butterflies fluttered and children’s laughter could be heard. The overall feeling of this place gave Virgil a feeling of contentment that he hadn’t felt in some time. Breathing in and out, he took advantage of this feel-good opportunity. He sat down on a nearby bench, leaning until his spine touched the back of the seat. “Excuse me?” Virgil’s eyes shot open and he pulled the earbuds out of his ears. In front of him was a golden haired boy with freckles planted on his cheeks and nose.

Virgil felt his chest began to explode with so many emotions. “Oh! Did I disrupt you? My bad!” He apologized. The boy’s voice was so recognizable but for some reason, Virgil couldn’t figure out exactly where from. It hurt his brain as he fished for answers but came up empty handed. “No! It’s uh....it’s okay...” Virgil’s voice quieted as he began to speak on. The boy gave a wide smile. “I just wanted to say I really like your hoodie. I’m Patton.” He held out a hand. “Thanks,” He swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked at Patton, now feeling a new kind of anxious. “I’m Virgil.” Patton shook his hand gently. “Did you make it yourself?” Virgil looked down at his purple and black stitched hoodie. “Yea, I did.” Patton’s face lit up. “That’s so cool!”

“I hope this isn’t too weird but, do I know you from somewhere?” Virgil couldn’t seem to place the familiar feeling he felt when looking at Patton. It was like being engulfed in your childhood blanket for the first time in years. It felt....right...

“Uh, I don’t know but, I was thinking the same thing.” Patton pressed a finger to his lip and pondered for a moment. They stood there for a moment, their surroundings making up for the lack of words. The boy in front of him brushed it off with a shrug and looked back into Virgil’s eyes. “Well, anyhow, I should probably be on my way.” Patton giggled. Virgil felt his heart sink into his stomach. The golden haired boy placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, looking into his eyes as if he could read how the dark boy felt.

“Hey, don’t worry Virgil! Maybe I’ll see you around or something, if you’d like I could give you my phone number!” Virgil nearly spit out his coffee at the words he said. “What did you say!?” He exclaimed. As Patton repeated his words, he covered his mouth instantly. Everything in that moment clicked. The boy’s smile, his gentle and kind demeanor, he was Virgil’s dream boy....

How did this simultaneously make so much sense, but also not at all? What would he say? What could he say? Was there any real approach that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot? “Do you believe in soulmates, Patton?” He asked breathless. Shock ran through Patton. “You....” Patton tried to speak. “I think....” They both stared at each other for a long moment, taking in the awe and wonder that had for each other. In that moment, they were no longer strangers, but a story yet to be written. “Patton, I think you’re my soulmate.” The boy’s eyes widened and then softened as his lips curled up into such a dazzling smile. He pulled out a blue colored sharpie from his bag. “May I?” He pointed to the coffee cup. “Oh!” He handed it to him and Patton began to write something on the white part of the cup. He handed it back a very star struck Virgil. “Please call me.” After that he gave a little wave and left, disappearing behind the water fountain and out of sight completely.

Virgil sat there, brain full of questions racing at a million miles an hour. I need to get home. Without wasting anymore time, he quickly made his way home, practically running. “Welcome back, Vi---” Janus tried to say but stopped as he took a glance at the expression on his good friend’s face as he walked through the door. “I think I just met my soulmate.”

“Well, God damn, My Little Paranoid!” Remus answered. “He gave me his number and---” Remus cut him off. “GO CALL HIM NOW!” His voice boomed in he small house. “Remus, give him a bit he’s probably overwhelmed.” Janus turned from the couch, looking over the side at Virgil. “How do you feel, Virgie?” He asked. “I---I think I forgot how to breathe.” Virgil stared at his own shaking hands. “HAHAHAHAHAHAH!” Remus cackled. He ran up to the shaken boy and took the drink and baked good for Janus. “Try to calm down and when you’re ready, go call him.” Janus eyed Remus, emphasizing his words. Remus began to chug his drink. “What?” He asked after a large gulp. “Okay! Thank you!” Virgil ran up stairs into his room.

Jumping onto the bed he examined the cup and very slowly punched the numbers in. He stared at his phone for a minute. Is this really happening? Or is this just a dream I’m living in? Virgil shook his head. “I’m gonna do it...” He with great hesitation pressed the call button, the ringing making him jump. It rang once, then twice, and finally....click!

“Hello?” Patton asked, cheery like a Summer’s day.

“Hey.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #soulmates au

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