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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

For some reason I really need to read Maxwell fucking reader in their luxurious walk in closet that’s basically a room of fuckable surfaces.

Blinding Lights [Maxwell Lord x F! Reader] SMUT

Warnings: 18+ smut, f recieving oral, fingering (guys it’s so intense i’m obsessed okay), cunningless, squirting, over stimulation, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v, pre-established relationship, soft Max but rough sex.

Word count: 3100>

Author’s Note: This is honestly one of my favourite smuts I’ve written in a long time. I’m proud of the detail (is that weird?) and I just hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, reblogs are appreciated. <3

Masterlist

Maxwell’s mouth was insistent, that much wasn’t a surprise. He always kissed you as if it was out of desperation. Hot and passionate -- like it might be his last chance kissing you forever. He savoured every moment, the taste of your tongue and the way your soft lips fit perfectly against his. You could faintly taste the vanilla lip balm he was wearing and couldn’t contain the wanton moan that escaped your throat when his big hands began caressing your body. They finally settled on your hips, and he dug his ring glad fingers into the soft skin there, offering you a playful squeeze.

When you squirmed beneath him, he chuckled, feeling a familiar heat flood his body. He nudged the curve of his nose against yours when you broke away from the kiss, but once he was satisfied that you had caught your breath, his lips came crashing down onto yours again. Maxwell took a few steps forward, pushing you into his walk-in closet and propping you against one of the shelves. He’d thought about this -- a lot.

You pulled away from his mouth once more and looked around, taking a second to process that you were no longer in his bedroom, but in his walk-in closet. It was enormous, and absolutely extensive in size. There was no reason, absolutely no reason whatsoever, for Maxwell to have this many power suits. Each one had been pressed and ironed perfectly before getting hung up. It was colour coordinated, but make no mistake, it looked like a rainbow. Racks on racks of shirts and ties and pocket squares, waistcoats, belts and suspenders, a display of cufflinks -- it honestly looked like a department store.

“Are you okay?” Maxwell asked, resting his forehead against yours.

You fixed your gaze back onto his lust blown brown eyes and smiled. “I’m perfect,” you reassured him, and your heart swelled with joy as you watched his face light up. “I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year and I’ve never seen your closet.”

Maxwell dramatically cleared the shelf behind you of his shoes and knocked them all the ground. It didn’t go quite as smoothly as he imagined. It was something he’d seen in a movie once. He cleared his throat before finally speaking.

“Yeah,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. So you hadn’t seen his closet… so what? He’d shown you everything else. You’d literally travelled the world with him -- and you were fixating on the fact you’ve never seen his closet. To him, it wasn’t a big deal. But to you, it just showed that your boyfriend still somehow managed to be an enigma. You weren’t mad or upset, if anything, you found it endearing. In a way, it was nice that you were still finding things out about Max, even though you’d already known him for so long. “But I’ve wanted to fuck you in here since I first brought you home.” Maxwell grumbled in admittance, leaning in to pepper kisses along your neck and down your collarbone.

He needily tugged on the hem of your dress, making it clear that he wanted it gone. You pulled the thin material over your head and dropped it to the ground.

“So perfect,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to caress as his chaste kisses deepened down to the valley of your breasts. You felt his free hand snake behind you as he fiddled with the clasp that held your bra together. “May I?”

“Yes,” you breathed out needily, and within a second, your bra was gone. Now just in your panties, you nodded in the direction of your boyfriend. “Your turn.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes but couldn’t escape his grin as excitement filled him. You loved seeing him smile. Not that fake, forced television smile -- but his real, genuine smile. You knew it was real because he had this little dimple in the left of his cheek that always popped out. You felt so lucky that you were one of the only ones that got to see him like this. You were one of the only people who could make him smile -- and make his heart blossom with so much love and adoration. To Maxwell, you were truly a figment of perfection. He was an esteemed, intimidating businessman. But you were like an angel; soft and delicate. You made him a better person without even trying.

It took him a little longer to undress -- discarding the jacket, and then the tie, and then his suspenders, and then unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. The second he was shirtless, you did what you always did. You reached out and wrapped your arms around him, relishing in the heat of his broad and tan chest. You nuzzled your head into him and he began to softly smooth out your hair.

“I love you so much.” he uttered softly, pressing a kiss into your hair. His stomach erupted into butterflies when he felt you smile against his skin.

“I love you too.” you sighed into admittance.

When you pulled away, he cupped your face and his thumb brushed the height of your cheekbone. You were half expecting another deep kiss, but his lips barely brushed against yours.

“Get up.” He ordered, pointing at the shelf he’d just cleared of his shoes. You turned around in surprise but followed his demand, hopping up and sitting on the shelf. Your feet were dangling off the edge. You were only a few inches from the ground, but it truly felt like you were sitting on a cloud.

He adored your body and he made sure you knew it. He spent a few minutes gawking, and if it was anyone else, you would’ve felt uncomfortable. But you were so madly in love with Max Lord, you let him look for as long as he wanted. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to get shirtless, as he had an air of insecurity about his body, but the two of you trusted each other one hundred percent and being around Max (and Max being around you) gave you both a significant boost of confidence.

“You’re so amazing.” Max breathed out, shaking his head incredulously and clasping his hands together in awe. It almost looked like he was praying.

You tossed your head back and Max felt his cock jump in his tailored pants at the way you exposed the column of your neck, just for him. “Stop,” you groaned. You were glad your head was thrown back so Max couldn’t see the flush of heat that crossed your cheeks. “You always say that.”

“But it’s true!” he exclaimed before taking a step forward and bringing his hand to your neck, giving it an experimental squeeze.

“Max please,” you whimpered, crossing your legs together as you felt the arousal pool in your panties.

“Please what?” he asked, his warm breath fanning over your ear lobe.

“You know.” you drawled out as his hand cradled your breast again. He dropped his hand down to your stomach and let it linger just above the hem of your lace panties.

“I want you to say it.” he hissed, making your cunt clench around nothing. Gods -- you needed him.

“I want you to fuck me.” You gasped out, and a wicked smirk crossed Max’s lips. His eyes were almost black at this point, and his dark blonde hair that was once perfectly styled, was now disheveled, with little waves falling out of place.

A small hum of acknowledgement left his lips as he rubbed his middle finger and index finger over the material of your panties. Max grunted at the feel of your clit through the lace material.

“You’re already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you,” Max praised, bringing his finger up to the bright closet lights and revelling in how your arousal glistened on his digit.

You needily rubbed your knee against his erection and he groaned, hating how confined he felt in the fitted suit pants. You loved to hear him. The noises he made during sex were sweet like honey and they turned you on so much. “I have to taste you.” Max announced finally, dropping to his knees and pulling your panties down.

He threw them haphazardly to the floor, in a puddle amongst yours and his other garments of discarded clothes. Just the vision of him on his knees between your legs was enough to drive you crazy. It was like he was worshipping you. Max softly began to palm at your knees as he spread you open. He leaned in, pressing hot, wet kisses into the softness of your inner thighs where it felt like cream.

The curve of his nose nudged against your clit and you tried holding back a cry as a jolt of pleasure ran through your core. He was taking his time, making you wait -- ever the tease. You brought your hands down to the back of his head and let your fingers tangle in his soft locks of hair. You gently pushed his face further into your core, hoping he’d get the message.

It was like he read your mind. He licked a hot stripe between your folds and the simple movement had you already seeing stars. You bundled his hair up into a fist and waited for him to lap at you again. Though this time, he changed his technique. He blessed you with short and fast kitten licks, and everytime he skillfully maneuvered his tongue over your bundle of nerves, you felt yourself near climax.

“Oh Max,” you moaned, not even realising the way your legs had clamped around his head. The wet noises that echoed through the confines of the box shaped closet were obscene, and you might have once been embarrassed, but quite frankly, in this moment, you had other things on your mind.

The tip of his tongue began to flick in and out your entrance and you let go of his hair at the sudden intrusion. You cried out, having no reason to care about how loud you were being. It was just you and him. “Oh fuck Max.”

His tongue increased speed, faster and faster, and it felt like your body was about to fall off a cliff and into a tingling sea of ecstasy. But he suddenly pulled off you when he sensed how close you were, denying you of an orgasm and leaving you a heaving panting mess.

You wanted to smack him. You wanted to get your revenge. How could he do this? You were so close. You were so close to cumming, literally just from his tongue. When you finally gained the energy to open your eyes, you’d mentally prepared yourself to say something but you were greeted with the image of Max and his pretty puppy dog eyes blinking up at you. And immediately all your thoughts were lost. His lips were shining with your wetness and curled up into a smile.

“You know I’m just preparing you for what’s to come, right?” He quizzed, raising his eyebrows. Okay, he had a point.

“Could’a still let me cum.” you grumbled, pouting your lips to sign your disapproval of the unfair nature of his game.

Max furrowed his eyebrows together and frowned. “Baby, what have I taught you?” He asked, and when you didn’t answer, he sighed. “To be patient.”

His gaze didn’t leave yours once, but still, he managed to bring his thick, ring clad finger back down to your core and push it deep inside of you. He didn’t take it slow, like the softness in his eyes might’ve implied. He thrusted his index finger as deep as he could and immediately located the special sweet spot inside of you -- the one he had memorised so carefully.

Instead of adopting his usual routine, he did something that took you by surprise. He didn’t remove his finger, it wasn’t an ‘in-and-out’ type of thing. He scraped the tip of the digit against your g-spot, his finger curling inside of you as he did so. It was ethereal. You’d truly never felt an intensity quite like it, and he wouldn’t stop. It was rapid and hard and the sensation you felt was blinding. The pleasure burned through your body like wildfire, and it didn’t take long at all before you had completely submitted to him. You couldn’t take anything in, you couldn’t process his actions anymore, it was too overwhelming. Overbearing too, but in the best way imaginable. He was stimulating you persistently, and no matter how much your thighs shaked or your cunt clenched around his finger, he just kept going.

Somewhere down the line, your eyes had snapped shut.

“Look at me,” Maxwell growled. You whimpered and squirmed, pretending like you didn’t hear him. To be fair, his voice was just an echo in the background, your feelings of how good this felt were at the forefront of your mind and Gods, why had he never tried this before? “Look at me or I stop.” He warned.

You didn’t know if he’d actually stop, but you knew for a fact you didn’t want to risk it. So it took all your might, but you managed to open your eyes, your gaze pleading with him, begging him to keep going.

And he did.

Had you cum yet? Surely you had. It felt like you’d cum a thousand times over, your body aching and tired. When he brought the thumb of his free hand to your clit and began to circle it, you wanted to scream. Maybe you did, you didn’t even know anymore. You couldn’t see clearly, everything was just like white noise.

That was it. That was the final straw. The lower portion of your body was a spasming mess and you had completely lost all focus. There was no going back. Until, his finger doubled out of you, lightning fast, as bolts of pleasure zapped through your body.

“Holy shit!” Max hissed, his eyes wide as he took in the sight before him.

You still weren’t entirely sure what was going on, until you felt… wet? Wetter than before. Significantly wetter than before.

“Oh fuck baby,” Max whispered, and you managed to catch a blurred glimpse of his face before he plunged his finger back inside of you. His face looked wet too. “You’re perfect. So perfect.” he praised.

“Wh-- what-- wh--” you could barely even find words as he continued to finger you. Despite his actions being slow this time, the overstimulation was killing.

“You squirted, princess.” Max smiled proudly, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“I-- what-- I did-- what--” You were still in disbelief. So that’s… that’s what that was. It felt like a molten hot tornado ripping through your body -- and you’d never felt anything like it before but there wasn’t a chance you’d trade the feeling for the world. “I’ve never done that before.” you confessed, relishing in your post-orgasm haze.

“I’m glad I could make you do it then.” Max said before removing his finger and placing it on his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.

He gave you about a minute as you came down from your high, and as you did so, he unbuckled his belt, pulled it through the loops of his pants and got completely naked in front of you. You were still on cloud nine when you felt the bulbous tip of his cock press against your core.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Max whispered, leaning over your body and nibbling at the skin of your neck. “Just like you wanted, okay? And I’m not going to be gentle.”

Well, at least he warned you.

He thrusted deep inside of you, his movements relentless. You clenched around him, desperate to milk him for all he had. It was amazing, the feeling of every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls. He was going to make you cum again, you were sure of it, and you knew it was going to be soon.

The way his length throbbed and twitched inside of you -- you knew he was close too. You were so insanely wet from squirting, you could even feel your juices drip down the curve of your ass. You couldn’t imagine the mess you made, probably sitting in a puddle of your own arousal right now.

You wished the moment would last forever, but he rested his head in the crook between your neck and shoulder and bit down on you. “Gonna cum.” he gasped, fucking you even harder. Faster. Deeper. You were a shaking mess.

“Cum inside of me, Maxie.” you begged, tugging on his locks of hair and giving him just enough motivation to let go.

“Almost there.” He groaned before gasping out as his salty seed spurted inside of you, roping your walls filling you up.

He stayed inside of you until he softened, hugging you tight and kissing you softly. “I love you so much, so so much.” He’d confess in between kisses. “Never leave me. Please never leave me. I love you too much.”

You could feel his heartbeat against your own as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I’m never leaving you Maxie, I promise.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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fairytalesofthewind · 3 years

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Can I request The Avengers with winged!male!reader, who is a new member of their team? Reader is a ball of joy and love, he's like everyone's kid, until he gets snatched by Hydra agents and later is found with one of his wings cut off, leaving a permanent and ugly scar on his back. After that he shuts down completely, lays in his bed all day long and doesn't talk to anyone : he became a wreck of the person he used to be.

I really would like to see The Avengers helping him cope and Tony coming up with some crazy idea, which lead to Reader receiving a prosthetic wing and once again becoming an official member of The Avengers.

Anon, you are a true genius!

warnings: hydra (so also torture, a bit of gore, and kidnapping)

+ implied Stucky

I called the male reader Icarus, you’ll find out why ;) I may be a little bit too obsessed by mythology. Sorry that I didn’t write with ‘you’.

wordcount: 2424

Requests are open!

Icarus was found by shield at age 15. He had been an experiment of hydra for 3 years. He remembered the day the Avengers had infiltrated the facility where the majority of hydra worked. He remembered hearing the explosions and screams while he was trapped in the many cells of the building’s basement. The only occupied cell what that of his.

He had felt his surroundings shaking, had felt the dust falling on him as the building was ready to collapse. And then the bombs stopped getting fired. The screams had stopped. Icarus had thought the fight had completely stopped and that the people were either dead or that the people had fled. Icarus had thought no one was coming for him, and that he was trapped in his cell, no way to escape.

But then he had heard a single loud bang. It came from the door leading to the basement. He saw that the metal door had an imprint of a fist in it. Then he heard another loud bang, and saw how the imprint expanded. After a few more hits, the door gave away and fell to the floor.

A man with a metal came walking up to him. Icarus knew who he was, emphasis on was. Because the man ushering towards him wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. That was what the agents had told him.

“Hey kid. Hang on in there, we’ll get you out as soon as possible.” He said and came closer and inspected the outside of his cell. More specifically, the keypad in front of it. “Hey Stark, I’m gonna need your help here with some tech.” Bucky came even closer to his cell and Icarus’ eyes widen as his hands neared the glass.

“Stop!” Icarus yelled. Bucky froze at the command, and dragged his eyes up slowly to the panicked boy in front of him. “You can’t touch the glass.” Icarus warned him, his tone a bit softer. “It’ll trigger the alarms and then gas will come out of the ceiling.” Bucky frowned looked up at the top of the cell. In each corner was a camera, along with a small metal tube coming out of the walls. He supposed that the gas would come out of there.

“Is the gas deadly?” He asked the boy, there were probably going to trigger the alarms trying to get him out. But they would have to find another way if the gas is really dangerous.

“No,” Icarus started, “it just makes me go to sleep.” Bucky nodded as stepped away from the glass container. They would have to wait for a few minutes until help – the help being Tony- arrived.

“So…” The boy drawled out, “Are you really a 100 years old?” He wanted to look at Icarus with a ‘are you serious’- look but as he saw the curiosity written on his face, he responded a soft smile.

“I’m 106 years old.” He felt a pang of amusement as he watched Icarus’ eyes widen.

“Isn’t that a bit weird?” Bucky tilted his head, silently asked the boy what he meant by that. “You know…with friends, and lovers. You’re much older than them.”

Suddenly Stark entered the basement and said: “Well, Bucky doesn’t have any problem with that seeing as his boyfriend is also a super soldier and also very old.” He strutted over to the keypad on his cell. Icarus stared at him with wide eyes because – oh my God this is The Tony Stark.

“Friday baby, tell me how to get the angel out.” He said. Icarus blushed a bit, most of the agents didn’t call him an angel because of his wings. But rather demon. He didn’t which one fit the best seeing as he had neither white wings, nor black, but brown wings.

Tony was quiet for a few long seconds. He looked concentrated, not that they could see his face through the helmet, but his head was tilted just a bit. He let out a loud drawn-out sigh and said: “Yeah, no can do, that’s going to take hours. I’m just gonna blast it.”

Icarus straightened up immediately, if he were to do that he would just trigger the alarms. It wouldn’t do much to the glass either, because it was made of something special. Before Icarus could let out a warning, he heard the zooming of Iron Man’s blasters and then he heard a small explosion.

The boy made eye contact with Bucky after he saw gas coming out of the metal tubes. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he picked up the curse words both of the men let out.

Only a few hours later did Icarus wake up. It was very quiet around him, but there was also an unfamiliar sound that he didn’t recognise that made him realise that he wasn’t in his cell anymore. Did the agents change their mind on waiting a few more months to send him on a mission? Did they suddenly decide to get rid of him? Did they-

“Ah, you’re waking up.” The voice was so much more gentle than he was used hearing. It reminded him of how his family used to talk to him.

They were dead now, by the way, with courtesy of hydra.

Icarus opened his eyes and looked to his right where the voice had come from. He recognised the man, he was the Falcon. Sam was still wearing his suit, with his metal wings. Icarus eyes fell to the said wings and frowned.

“You know, you guys are in big trouble.” The people around him straightened up. Already thinking of the possible things the boy could say. There was something you didn’t think about, this was just a distraction and now the shield base has been taken care of properly. You lost-

“These are copyrighted.” Icarus pointed to his own wings. “I could sue you for plagiarism.” Sam lowered his head in relief as he let out a little chuckle.

“I’ll pass it on to the boss.” He said as he looked to the other side of Icarus. The boy followed the line of sight and saw Tony sitting on the other side of him. He was immediately attacked with concerned questions about how he was feeling. Tony told him that they were going to bring Icarus somewhere safe, there were going to give him a home. But all Icarus could think about was, oh my God, this is The Tony Stark.

Icarus was 16 when he started his training. He was done basically living in the hospital wing of the tower. Apparently hydra had really taken a toll on him. Physically and mentally.

He had begged the captain to train him. But Steve had refused time and time again claiming that Icarus wasn’t ready yet.

Between recovery and asking for training, he became friends with Sam. Well, he became friends with everyone. You could even say that he became their family. But it happened with Sam the fastest. Sam took care of him from the start. He visited Icarus every day to check up on him. He helped the boy get comfortable. Icarus saw Sam as a…dad?

They would fly together almost every night. They would soar over countless buildings in New-York. They would stop on skyscrapers and talk about everything and nothing. Sam became his best friend, he became his family.

Icarus was 17 when he realised how much the Avengers truly cared about him. It was his first mission, and the Avengers were acting like overbearing mother hens. It wasn’t even a big mission, it was just to pick something up and bring it from place A to B. But due an unexpected rainstorm Icarus couldn’t fly back. He arrived hours later than he should’ve had at the meeting point.

And to say he had received an ear full about it was an understatement. For the next few days after that mission, he had heard one rant to the other. It was all the same: about how he was precious, about how bad it would be to lose him because he was their family. He was their ray of sun- no scratch that- he was their sun. He was their kid.

Icarus was 18 years and 2 months old when one of his mission went seriously wrong. Sam wasn’t there to support him in the sky. And Tony was needed on the ground. But as multiple planes left to escape, he had to go after them. There weren’t only hydra agents on those plane, but also innocent hostages. Hostages that would probably get used for the same purpose Icarus had been used for.

So he couldn’t just let the planes go. He went after the plane of which he thought was filled with hostages, but was only filled with agents. He had entered the plane just before it’s backdoor had closed. He realised his mistake as he was suddenly surrounded by a dozen men with guns.

One of the men closest to him raised his gun towards him and shot. Icarus felt a sharp prick on his neck and he already knew what was going to happen. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he picked up the curse words his family let out on the comms.

Icarus was 18 when he was recaptured by hydra.

Hydra had claimed they had no use for him. They already had a better reproduction of him.

But that didn’t mean that we are just going to get rid of you, no stupid demon boy. We are going to have a bit of fun with you.

Icarus was 18 years and 5 months when he lost one of the most important things of his life.

He lost of one his wings. That means that he not only lost one of his limbs, but he also lost being able to fly.

He wouldn’t be able to do the thing he loved the most, he wouldn’t be able to fly anymore.

Icarus was 18 years and 8 months old when the Avengers had to save him again from hydra. But the boy they saved wasn’t the Icarus that had been captured. He was missing something –besides from the obvious; his wing.

From the moment Icarus had returned home, everything went just a bit worse day by day. He was unhappy, of course he was. Not only had he lost his wing, but he also had a very large scar where it used to be.

He felt terrible. He would spend almost every hour buried under the safety of his blankets in his bed. He didn’t leave his room, no matter how much his family tried to get him out.

One day Bucky entered his room, he brought some tea and breakfast with him. “Good morning, little angel…” The rest he said fell on deaf ears. Icarus had buried himself under his blankets himself.

A few seconds later felt the cold rushing over him. The bed dipped beside him, Bucky sat on the blanket so that Icarus couldn’t use them to hide anymore. But it didn’t really help much as the boy just turned his back to him, his one wing currently hiding himself.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Look, I know how much this sucks. I lost my arm, I know how it feels.” Suddenly Icarus had sat up, and was now looking at him with an angry face.

“You think you know how I feel?!” Icarus pushed him off the bed. They were now both standing with Icarus pointing a furious finger at him. “You just lost your fucking arm! I didn’t just lose my wing, no I lost the thing I loved the most! I can’t fly anymore, and you know whose fault is that?” Icarus kept walking closer and Bucky kept stepping further away from the boy.

“It’s my fault! I was overtaken by my giddiness of the mission and I got distracted, I was too overconfident.” Bucky was almost in the hallway with the way he kept backing up.

“And besides, James. You got a metal arm in return. You can still do everything!” Unlike Bucky, Icarus didn’t have another wing.

And that, had given Bucky an idea.

Icarus was 18 years and 11 months when Tony had dragged him out of his wing towards his lab. He didn’t give him any choice to struggle back, he was coming whether he wanted to or not.

Tony had covered his eyes just before they entered the lab. He had made him sit on a stool. He heard a few nervous coughs, so he knew that the other were there as well.

Tony granted his sight back after a few seconds of rambling something that Icarus was too tired to listen to.

“-and we hope you will like this…”

In front of him, on a stand, was a metal wing. It was a similar size of his own. He had thought: what is the point of a monument? But then Icarus realised that what he was seeing wasn’t just a metal wing, it was also a suit. He felt a few tears roll down his cheek and immediately afterwards felt someone’s arms going around him.

“Oh, it’s alright, angel. It’s going to be alright.” They let him cry his heart out, patiently being there for him.

It was a few days later that Icarus sat in the craftsman’s lab again. Tony was securing the many straps on his new suit. He explained him the rules of the new suit, of what it could and couldn’t do. “Now, Sam will help you fly again. He knows how the metal wing work. My advice for now is to not fly too low, or too high. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Icarus was 19 when he was given back the thing he loved most; being able to fly. He was able to be happy again. He picked up the nightly flights with Sam again. Sometimes staying away from the Tower until 5AM. He was almost back to his normal self; he was already back to being the most energetic member of the team, and he showed how grateful he was almost every second of the day.

This night he was sitting on a building with Sam eating his pepperoni pizza.

“You know, you’re in trouble, right?” Icarus looked up at Sam with raised eyebrows.

“These are copyrighted, and you know, I could sue you.” Sam pointed at his metal wings with a small smirk.

“Copyrighted my ass, you can’t beat the original.”

#marvel #marvel x male reader #stucky #angst with a happy ending #greek mythology #the avengers #avengers x reader #male headcanons #male reader #tony stark #bucky barnes

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lambourngb · 3 years

Text

Day 2: AU get me out of here - places to go when canon is complicated

It’s Day 2 for @roswellnewmexicocreate, time to celebrate those stories that I turn to when I can’t deal with canon, or when I don’t have the emotional energy to untangle all the emotions I have for what’s going on in canon. Alternative universes, the safe harbor for us. Below are a mix of rewrites of canon, remixes of canon, or out right not even set in Roswell- to fill every type distance you want from canon- from near to far.

and the howl of the desert carries me home by @christchex/ @michaels-blackhat (4,334) Alex runs into the desert to escape from his father with his guitar clutched to his chest. He plans to spend one last night playing before his father destroys it. Instead, he meets a cute boy with flowers in his curly hair and a lizard on his shoulder. He exchanges a song for a smile.

why i like it: I love everything about this story. Michael is totally a disney princess, and what a lovely way to save him from foster homes, but have him run away to the desert and use his alien powers to build his own little protective world. Looping in Nora’s plant powers like that, giving Michael a little animal friend, I love it all, but the show stealer is Alex Manes, playing music to coax the mystery boy out. It’s just incredibly soft.

***

Heartbeat series by @adiwriting (133,000 - in progress) During the lost decade, Alex gets Michael pregnant and Michael doesn't see or hear from him again for the next four and a half years. When Alex comes back to town, he discovers he has a daughter with Michael and they all have to figure out how to be a family.

why i like it: it has it all, installments with angst, installments with fluff, I can find whatever mood I am in by just pouring over this incredible series. I really don’t even like mpreg, but in RNM, with aliens it seems a little more probable to me and bless Britt, she goes light on the details but heavy on the kid aspect of it. I absolutely love Alex in this story, he’s richly characterized as a man who is trying hard while wandering unfamiliar territory like aliens, like being a dad, like being Michael’s boyfriend, and he doesn’t always get it right, but he’s loved regardless.

***

tonight we are young @skinsharpenedteeth (8,137) Alex and Michael ditch the Evans' New Years Eve party to find their own fun and Alex gets his New Years kiss...(the underage tag is because they're both 17 in this.)

why i like it: I’m a sucker for teen!Malex, especially stories that take place before the shed. I love this little AU where Alex is thinking about making a move, but hasn’t yet. They are both adorable nervous babies, this feels very much how a softer teen!Malex first time would go. Perfectly characterized here, you can just feel the hopeful vibes they have at 17. I like to believe nothing bad ever happens to them again.

***

you shift on a gear (it’s been a long year) by @backinmybodymp3 (28, 362) “Good morning,” Michael says. “What the hell did you do?” Alex asks, exasperated. (or: There were times, in some of the lower moments of the past however-many-days it’s been, where Michael had thought about what it might’ve been like to share this time loop with someone. He never imagined— well, he never imagined it’d be Alex.)

why i like it: I love time-loop stories! And this is just superb. The friendship dynamics of everyone involved, the Liz/Max wedding, Michael being a good brother, Michael trying so hard to keep this bullshit from dragging Alex in and then Alex being his usual reckless self when it comes to Michael, I absolutely dig this canon-divergent au. you can feel how much the author cares about everyone on the show in this story, and they really nail the Malex dynamic. This story came along just as season 3 did and it’s a true antidote to the malex drought on screen.

***

the library by @arielana (9,657) Alex had stopped too far away to hear exactly what they were saying, but their voices did carry over to where he was standing. The guy’s drawl had a melody to it that was vaguely familiar, but much deeper than the voice it reminded Alex of. God, that and the hair really brought some memories back. Just as Alex told himself to stop secretly staring like a creep and walk over there, he turned slightly so that Alex got a glimpse of the side of his face. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Twelve years ago Alex left Roswell to join the Air Force, nursing a broken heart and promising to never return. When work brings him back to New Mexico he runs into someone he’d been sure he’d never see again.

why i like it: the first kiss in the UFO emporium was groundbreaking, but I have to admit, I love stories that explore the almost-happened, where Malex reconnect as adults without the shadow of Jesse’s attack. I love how sharp Alex is in this story, he has all these walls as an adult built from that first rejection, but then he’s so completely unprepared to reconnect with Michael again. The clownery in this story by both of them is perfect! I also totally love Forrest as a gay best friend for Alex, trying to wingman Alex, that cracked me up.

***

stellar light based life by @jocarthage (30,651) It’s not a memory if it’s something you see every day. It’s a trigger and it’s not one Alex wants to ever let go of.Alex saw Michael disappear into a blinding blue light, soft 17-year-old body pulled back into some kind of impossible vortex -- one hand, outstretched.

why i like it: another submission from 2020 RNM Big Bang, this story just wrecked me. I can’t even really put into words about how it hooked me and basically lives in my head now to the point I often mumble the first line to myself. Anyway, this AU takes a right turn at the shed attack, and goes full force scifi and tragic separation, I love it. In so many ways it reshapes Alex’s life but the core of who he is never changes, there’s so many great science geekery details about Michael’s planet and the astronaut journey that Alex takes, plus SANDERS... anyway, this is a fandom classic for me.

***

Crossed Wires by @beautifulcheat, @ladynox (15,351) Michael's been kicked off more than one Starfleet posting. So when he learned he was reassigned to the USS Roswell, he decided that he would keep his head down and behave. This decision is immediately thwarted when he meets her hot Vulcan captain.This might be the first time Michael got kicked off a posting for flirting with a captain.

why i like it: Star Trek AU? I’m pretty easy. Seeing elements of Kirk and Spock’s tragic backstory blended into genius mechanic Michael Guerin and ice prince Alex Manes was amazing. I love how it’s serving with his family that brings Michael to the Enterprise, his bond with Max and Isobel was chef’s kiss good. The blend of Michael’s powers and Alex’s biology - I loved the balance even if it came with its own misunderstandings, but hey, this time it was cultural! lol

***

I’m still here by @vague-shadows @pippsmcgee (35,928) Treasure Planet AU in which Michael is the gifted young delinquent who found a treasure map, and Alex is a space pirate pawn in his Father's obsession with riches and legacy.

why i like it: I’ve never seen Treasure Planet, but I didn’t need to thoroughly enjoy this AU. This was the perfect mix of angst and sci-fi adventure, where the authors managed to make the shed even more horrifying. Jesse Manes is the absolute worst in this story, the levels of obsession he goes to find a treasure, and then Michael on his own collision course - the ability to write tense action is a gift, and it’s on display in this story. Cyborg!Alex took up a place in my heart and still lives there, where he only gets the nicest things.

If you like any of these recs, please leave a comment on the story or a kudo- a ‘this was awesome’ is enough to propel an author into the stratosphere with happiness, so don’t worry about coming up with a unique, never before shared insight- sometimes a keyboard smash and emoji makes all the difference!

#rnmcreate21 #day 2 au #malex fic #malex fic recs #roswell new mexico #rnm

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princessphilly · 3 years

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All Bets Are Off Chapter 12

Word Count:

Tag list: @ohpuckyeah, @joelsfarabee, @besthockeyfics. @dreamer1430 @defiant-mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol @t0xickisses2

Join the tag list here!

CW: smut, filthy talk

This is a bit of a filler chapter, sorry.

“Are you going to miss me?”

Nina didn’t even look up from her iPad. It was so annoying yet adorable at the same time, how Sidney was desperately trying to get her to tell him how much she was going to miss him.

“Um, I think you’re going to miss me more than I’ll miss you,” Nina finally replied. She grinned as Sidney huffed.

The first month of the new year had passed by pretty quickly to Nina. After being together for New Year’s Eve, Nina and Sid separated as the Pens had to finish off their road trip. Nina stayed in Miami for Jason’s game before taking an extra week just for herself. It was nice to have a bit of a vacation, especially when Lauren flew down. Nina basically enjoyed being on the beach, hanging out with a close friend, and shopping.

The morning of New Year’s Day, after having their first breakfast together of the new year, Sid had given Nina a card. Nina was shocked to see a credit card with her name on it and she had tried to give it back but Sid had insisted. “You don’t treat yourself enough, pretty girl,” he had firmly stated. So Nina took advantage of it to treat herself a bit.

By the time she came back to Pittsburgh, Sidney’s road trip was over but Nina’s semester had started. They had a couple of weeks where they spent time together as much as possible before the Pens had another short road trip. Now, Sidney was on his way to the Olympics in Beijing for their longest separation so far.

Sidney finally had his bag packed the way that he liked it. Glancing at Nina laying on their, um, his bed, he drawled, “Are you sure you aren’t going to miss me?”

Nina looked up and giggled. “You hog the sheets, Sidney. And you’re like a furnace when you sleep.”

Sidney walked over to the bed, crouching over Nina. “Hurting my feelings right before I have to take a long flight. Tsk tsk.”

“Your flight leaves tomorrow. You’re just making sure you are totally prepared tonight. Stop being so dramatic, Sidney Crosby.”

Sidney smirked as he brushed a hand down Nina’s front. She was clothed, wearing one of his t-shirts. “Still, Nina.

“Still, Sidney.”

Nina stuck out her tongue at Sidney as he giggle-honked. Sidney brushed an errant strand of hair off of Nina’s forehead as he whispered, “I wish you were coming.”

“It was too short of a notice to take almost three weeks off, Sid,” Nina murmured. “Plus, hasn’t it always just been your family attending the Olympics?”

“Yes?”

Nina smiled. “Then, I would be breaking your tradition and your superstitions-”

Sidney opened his mouth to disagree but Nina put a finger over it. “Don’t even start, we both know how important ALL of your superstitions are. Even if you wouldn’t say it, if you lose without a gold medal and I'm there, part of you would be wondering. So quit the bullshit, Sidney.”

Sidney gave Nina a chagrined smile as she laughed at him. She was right, as always.

“Sid, it’ll be fine. You’re lucky I’m a morning person, you can call me crazy early here and I’ll pick up,” Nina reasoned.

Sidney pouted a bit. “I finally got you to actually date me, I don’t want to be separated from you for that long.”

“How cute, Mr. Obsessed-with-Hockey has become soft in his old age.”

Nina squealed when Sidney tickled her, squirming. “Okay, okay, you’re allowed to become soft!”

Sidney gave Nina a soft smile and she gulped. Something shifted in that look and Nina felt like there was something new.

Sidney bit his lip as Nina nervously laughed. In that moment, the pure joy on Nina’s face as she squealed while he tickled her, Sidney was sure that he loved her. He loved Nina. But this was the wrong time to admit that. So he chuckled and said, “If I’m soft, it’s only because of you.”

Nina stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Sidney chose not to respond to that statement, instead choosing to slide his lips over hers. Soft and sweet, exploratory as they kissed, not their usual hungry kisses. Then Nina wrapped a leg around Sidney’s waist and the mood changed.

Nina ended the kiss first, whispering, “I can feel that someone is going to really miss me.”

“Going to miss you so much,” Sidney replied, grinding his hips into Nina’s core. “Let me show you.”

Nina gasped as Sidney sucked along her neck, just light enough not to leave any marks. “Gonna give you something to remember while I’m gone,” Sidney promised as his hands went under her shirt before pulling it off.

Nina grinned before moaning as Sidney began to do exactly what he promised to do.

Sidney sighed as he sent the text. Everything was going great, even after a couple of hiccups in their first group stage games. This year, it was obvious to Sidney that this was going to be the last Olympics for him. Except for him, Tazer, Bergy, Tanger, Webs, Price, and Giroux, all of the other players on the team were under 30. Sidney saw his job as captain this year to not just get one more gold, but get the younger guys ready to take over.

Right now, they were getting ready to play against Germany, their first game after the group stage, the real games. It was before pregame; the players whose families had come to Beijing were giving well-wishes. At this moment, Sidney wished Nina was here with him instead of home in Pittsburgh.

His phone pinged and Sidney relaxed when he saw the message: its midnight here. Good luck. Im g2g2 sleep. Bye

That message was quickly followed by another one: why the hell did they schedule yall for so fucking late? figured canada would be primetime here

Sidney laughed when he saw Nina’s message. Giroux looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Must be the elusive girlfriend.”

Giroux’s wife elbowed him, causing him to say ow. Sidney snickered; they may be teammates for Team Canada but their truce was still a fragile truce. Ryanne Giroux said, “I heard Nina’s very sweet and kind.”

“Oh?”

Sidney was suddenly very curious. Blithely, Ryanne replied, “You know as well as I do it’s a small league. People only have the kindest things to say about her.”

Relaxing a bit, Sidney grinned. “Nina’s pretty fucking amazing. I’m lucky she likes me.”

“Oh God, he’s talking about Nina again.”

Sidney’s grin turned into a smile as Tanger clasped him on the back. Tanger continued, “It took five years-”

“Five years,” Giroux asked as Sidney groaned. “Stop giving him chirp material.”

Ryanne snickered as Sidney’s phone pinged again; kris says ur bragging about me again?

“Really, Tanger, really?”

Kris laughed as Sidney narrowed his eyes. “Calm down, Sid.”

Before Sidney could reply, Nina sent him another text: score a hat trick

Sidney gave his phone a soft smile. It was time to get focused for the game, so Sidney put his phone away as soon as he went back into the locker room.

Nina cracked an eye open. The time difference was a motherfucker; it was 5:45 am but 5:45pm. Yawning, Nina sat up in her bed as she accepted the call from Sid.

“Nina, really?”

“Good morning to you,” Nina yawned.

Sid slightly frowned. Nina was wearing a team USA t-shirt. Her shorts were blue. Even her sleep bonnet was blue.

“I’m not Canadian, Sid.”

“Stilll-“

Nina smirked as she shook her head. “No, I’m not rooting for you. Score as many goals as you want, I’m Team USA.”

Sidney scowled as Nina laughed. “It’s not even like the US made the gold medal game!”

Nina was disappointed in Team USA. She was hoping they would make it to the gold medal game but they were going to go against Finland for Bronze. Tomorrow, at 8am Beijing Time, 8pm EST, Canada was going against Sweden for gold.

“Still, you should be rooting for me.”

“I am,” Nina reasoned. “I want you to score all the goals. But, I just cannot root for Canada, yet.”

“Yet.”

Nina looked up to the ceiling before yawning again. Sidney was in a snit. She felt a tiny bit bad for Sweden because they were going to get it. But that wasn’t her problem. “Seriously, good luck, Sidney.”

“Thank you, Nina.”

Nina blew Sidney a kiss and he pretended to catch it. Then he licked his lips. “How many days did you take off when I get back?”

“Three, Sidney. Just three.”

Nina couldn’t help the rush of heat in her center when Sidney drawled, “I don’t plan to let you out of my house then.”

“Win the damn gold then,” Nina snapped.

Sidney chuckled, saying, “You’re ready to go back to sleep then. Sweet dreams, Nina.”

“Bye, Sid.”

Nina looked down at her phone. There were three messages, long messages, all from Sid. She took in a deep, fortifying breath. Canada had one gold and Sidney had two goals. From the highlights, it seemed like Sidney was on a mission the whole game. Sighing, Nina pressed play on the first one. It was just a noisy celebration, nothing big until Sidney started talking. His talking was garbled at first and Nina laughed when she realized that he was drunk off his ass when he called her.

The second voicemail started just as garbled, then Nina heard Sidney clearly say, “I’m so happy we won, I still wish you were here, you’re my new lucky charm, pretty girl. Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl, you make everything better now that you’re mine.”

The next one was just sappy as the second, but Sidney was definitely somewhere quieter with this one. But he was also just as drunk, as he ended by saying, “I wanna fuck you when I get back, with you wearing my gold, pretty girl. This gold is almost as pretty as you.”

Nina ruefully laughed, already expecting apologetic texts from Sidney when he was sober. But for the rest of the day, the thought lingered in her mind, the idea that Sidney loved her. However, her patients kept Nina busy and she didn’t get a moment to really ruminate on that. Then, Nina went over to Karesha’s house to babysit her play nephew, AJ, as Karesha went out with her boyfriend.

Within an hour of leaving, Karesha came back in, heated as she slammed the door. AJ commented, “He must have made Mom mad again.”

“AJ, please go upstairs and play with your Legos, Mommy needs to talk to Aunt Nina,” Karesha asked, trying hard to control her voice.

AJ quickly ran up the stairs, loudly closing the door to his room. Karesha flopped on the couch, kicking off her expensive heels. “Fuck men.”

Nina got up and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. Pour shots, she passed one to Karesha before sitting back down next to her friend. Karesha gratefully smiled before downing the shot.

“I’m tired of this shit. I told him it was over through text. How dare he say he’s coming up to Pittsburgh before spring training and then text me after I get to the restaurant to say he’s not coming after all. I’m done. I can’t.”

Nina murmured sympathetically, “Fuck him.”

“I’m so glad I never brought him around AJ though,” Karesha stated. “He had the nerve to say I spent too much time with my kid when I told him it was over.”

Nina’s eyes widened at that statement. “What are you supposed to do? Parent him less?”

Thoughts about Sidney were forgotten as Nina consoled her friend. Deciding to sleep over, Nina woke up early in the morning on the couch, several texts from Sidney waiting for her. Nina quickly scanned over them, starting with a text telling Nina his flight was about to come in to the last one asking if everything was okay. Nina sent him a message: friend had a crisis, be over around 10

It was early, around 7am so Nina didn’t expect to get a response. But Sidney replied: everything ok?

As ok as it’s gonna be, don’t worry, Nina sent back before straightening up Karesha’s living room. She then slipped out, locking the door from the inside.

“Gonna get you full with my cum, pretty girl. Fuck, look at you, your pussy already trying to milk my cum.”

Nina groaned as she watched Sid fuck her, claiming her. Her legs were over his shoulders, allowing Sidney to fuck her deep. “You missed me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina managed to say. He was fucking her so good, each stroke hitting her g-spot. It was like Sidney returned as a man on a mission.

“I missed you. Dreamed of you every night, Nina,” Sidney rasped.

“Mmmm.”

Nina no longer had words, she could feel her high coming. Then she felt Sidney’s fingers, just two fingers on her clit and it was enough to send her over the edge. Nina screamed, her nails digging into Sidney’s back. That was enough to get Sidney to reach his high as well, his grunts wordless as he came.

Nina sighed as Sidney withdrew, already sad at feeling empty. Sidney sat back on his haunches, watching as his cum started to leak out of Nina’s pussy. “I’ll never get enough of seeing that,” he remarked as he played with Nina’s clit. “Just for me, pretty girl.”

Moaning, Nina closed her eyes. She was sensitive but she felt herself respond to Sidney’s fingers. Then his fingers were replaced with his tongue, his fingers fucking his cum deeper inside of her pussy and the time for rational thought was gone.

Six weeks later

Nina sighed as she rifled through her bag for the keys to her apartment. Today was her thirty-first birthday and for some reason, she felt weird. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m now on the other side of thirty,’ Nina thought to herself.

The morning began with happy birthday texts from friends, birthday calls from Mom and Dad, and a facetime call with Jason. Sidney had sent her a funny meme birthday text but nothing else. Nina knew she shouldn’t feel too bad; the Pens were trying to solidify their playoff spot in the division and her birthday, April 5, fell right at the end of the season. As she opened the door, Nina hoped that Sid would at least do something once the playoffs were over. At the same time, it felt weird that she wasn’t going out with her parents either.

Just her luck that for the first time she was in a relationship around her birthday, her boyfriend had reasons not to take her out. Nina sniffled as she turned on the light.

“SURPRISE!!”

Nina gasped as Sidney, Kris, Geno, Anna, Catherine, Taylor, Alex, Victoria, Mario, Nathalie, Guentzy, Tristan, Hannah, Karesha, AJ, Lauren, her mom and dad, and Aryanna jumped out. Eyes wide, Nina burst into tears.

“Oh no, what’s wrong pretty girl,” Sidney replied, folding Nina into his arms.

Nina sniffled as she cried, “I thought everyone forgot my birthday!”

“I told you she wasn’t going to take it well,” Karesha muttered as Lauren kicked her. “Girl, be happy he did this all for you when he could be extra obsessive about the playoffs.”

Nina cut her eyes at Karesha before getting on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Sid’s cheek. “Thank you, Sid.”

The pictures of that night were put into a small scrapbook. Nina didn’t understand Sidney’s love for documenting memories in such a dramatic way but it was nice to look back at the memories in book form instead of having to scroll through her phone. Playoffs were now starting though so Nina was sure that would be the last carefree time until the playoffs were over, this time hopefully with another cup.

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soniaxdixon · 3 years

Text

The New World; Series

Okay so this is my first time writing a fic and obviously will be my first series but I’ve just rewatched TWD for like the 17th time and my obsession with Daryl has reached new levels. I hope that it isn’t too shit and that you guys actually read/like it. Thank you in advance for baring with my average writing but I mean, how else will I learn? Anyway, enjoy!

Sonia x

Set pre to early season 1, back story for when the world ended.

Part 1 of ??

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger hot headed sister. When Rick gets shot and falls into a coma, Y/N’s world ends. Y/N Finds herself at a quarry near Atlanta with her nephew carl, sister in law Lori and her best friend Glenn where she meets her new family including the equally hot headed redneck Daryl Dixon. Over time Y/N and Daryl begin to form a friendship, finally allowing one another to open up to someone and maybe finding someone they can actually love.

Warnings! Slowish burn but the feels are there from the start, swearing, some gore (hardly in this one) and merle being a bit of a dick as usual.

Words: 1428

Growing up a Grimes wasn’t always the best, especially being hot headed but having Rick as a brother made everything a lot easier. He was always able to calm you down, like he was the only one who knew how.

The day he got shot felt like a piece of your heart being ripped away, never to be replaced, never to be healed. That was the day your world ended.

When the world went to shit you were wishing he was there guiding your every move.

You scrambled through your one bedroom apartment, haphazardly shoving clothes into bags, anything and everything you thought you might need. Medicine, first aid kits, anything you could use as a weapon, anything to keep yourself alive. Ripping open the drawer near your front door you grabbed your keys and drove like you had nothing to lose. Racing through streets, running red lights, you watched as the world crumbled before you. People looting stores on one side of the street while on the other side the monsters ripped into the people you once new. Normalcy was now a memory. Normalcy was not normal anymore.

Swinging around a corner you barely put the car in park as you leapt out and barrelled into Lori’s house.

“Lori! Carl!” You yelled as loud as you could, your voice being drowned out by the sounds of sirens, helicopters and king county shattering around you.

“Lori! Where the fuck are you?” At this point you were screaming.

Carl came running around the corner throwing himself at you, tears in his eyes as you both fell to the floor hugging each other. Knowing he was safe was all you needed.

You held carl’s face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s in the garage with Shane, packing all of our camping gear. I’m scared Y/N”

“I know you are baby but we will get through this. I promise.”

You got up and let go of the boy, racing into the garage and catching Lori’s eyes, she ran and embraced you.

“Thank God you’re okay” she said, still holding you tight.

“I don’t know what to do Lori. Everything is happening all at once, how will we get Rick through this, how will we get through this?” You rambled looking between Lori and Shane.

You watched as their expressions dropped, Shane’s eyes looking at the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. Lori’s eyes filled with tears as she grabbed your hands.

“Rick’s gone”

The words hit you like a freight train as you collapsed to the floor, your own knees not being able to take the weight of the words that she spoke.

“I went to the hospital to get him out, he wouldn’t wake up. I tried Y/N I tried.” Shane was explaining what happened in the hospital but the words washed over you, your brain refusing to comprehend the things he was saying.

————

All of this felt like years ago at this point. A distant memory. Rick was a distant memory.

You woke up in your tent as the morning light began to enter the space. Sounds of people chatting quietly outside filled the air as you forced yourself off the ground, pulling on your black jeans, a grey t-shirt and your boots. Looping your belt around your waist and making sure your knife was easily accessible.

You fumbled around with the zipper of your tent still half asleep, stumbling out and greeting everyone with a small smile.

“There she is” Dale said with a charming smirk, “any longer and we would have sent Carl to come and jump on you.”

You chuckled at the remark, “It’s like 6 o’clock, calm down old man” you retorted, earning a hearty laugh from Dale.

You made your way over to Lori to see if she needed any help with breakfast but she and carol had it under control. “Smells great, you making your famous Sunday pancakes, Lori? Don’t forget to actually mix the batter” You said, obvious sarcasm in your tone.

She pushed your arm playfully as you reminisced the many clumps of flour you had eaten in the past, forcing a smile every time with a fake compliment “they’re greeaatt”

You sauntered over to T-Dogg who was sitting on top of the RV keeping watch.

“Mornin’ Y/N”

“Hey T”

You made it half way up the ladder before you were halted by an unfortunately familiar voice.

“Now how the hell did ya manage to squeeze that ass in those jeans, God damn.” The Southern drawl of the older Dixon brother had you fuming before you even turned around.

“Man don’t you ever shut up?” T-Dogg yelled from the top of the RV.

“What the hell d’ya say to me?” Merle retorted but before anything could get heated between the two of them you dropped off the ladder and made your way over to Merle.

“Keep it in your pants you redneck prick.” Your harsh tone really getting the message across as Merle put his hands up in surrender but still made it known that his eyes were on you the whole time you walked away.

Your best friend, Glenn made his way into the middle of the group announcing that he wanted to make a run into the city to look for some supplies. He said the last time he went in, he found a department store that had everything from clothes to food and looked as though it wasn’t overrun or burnt down. A few of the group members volunteered to go including you but Shane was quick to shut that idea down.

“No way in hell am I letting you go into the city.”

“Last I checked, you’re not my babysitter, Shane.” You quickly responded

He shot you a glance and you rolled your eyes. It wasn’t worth the argument, plus, after you had volunteered, Merle did too and you did not want to deal with that headache for however long the run took.

Within an hour, Glenn and the others were packed and ready to go into the city. Glenn came over to you and you pulled him into a tight hug.

“Don’t get eaten, please.”

He chuckled and let go of you, nodding. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“No promises” you smiled and waved as he and the rest headed off towards the city.

You looked to your left and saw the younger Dixon brother watching as his brother went off on yet another run. You could see worry in his eyes but you knew he would never show it properly. He’d probably be called a pussy by Merle for showing the slightest ounce of care towards anything. You didn’t realise you had been staring until you heard his voice.

“What the hell r’ya lookin’ at?” His words came across with more anger than he had intended

You blinked quickly and looked away. Your cheeks flushing a slight shade of pink as you struggled for words. Something about this man made your mouth run dry and your stomach flip.

“N-Nothing, sorry.” You quickly walked off but Daryl’s eyes remained trained on you, squinting as you walked towards the sunlight but still remaining focussed on you. He couldn’t figure you out. You were so harsh towards his brother, so easily set off by the slightest thing. If someone said the wrong thing you would mercilessly attack them with words and yet with him, you could hardly speak. You couldn’t be around him for more than 5 minutes.

He thought about you for a while, he didn’t understand why you were on his mind but you were. You had never even held a conversation and yet the only thing he could think about was you. In a similar way, the only thing on your mind that night, was him.

You made your way to your tent stealing one last quick glance at Daryl who was making his way up the RV for night watch, he locked eyes with you for a second and you smiled, a small smile but enough to make daryl nod at you in return.

The simple gesture made your heart jump as you hastily pushed your way into your tent almost falling over.

Changing into your pyjamas the simple interaction played over in your head as you climbed into your sleeping bag and drifted to sleep.

Just like that, another day was over in this new world and another one was ready to begin.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #twd fic #daryl dixon x grimes reader #y/n grimes x daryl dixon #series #twd series #twd fic series #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon x reader series

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tiny-smallest · 3 years

Text

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

---

WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

---

Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

#bendy and the ink machine #the ink demonth #batim bendy #batim henry #batim boris #batim alice angel #henry stein #batim henry stein #strike up the band au #my writing

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perksofbeingaharrie · 4 years

Text

PICTURE THIS - part: 4

FRIENDS TO LOVERS FIC

Lesson learnt for life - ‘Shri, never post a fic unless you’ve completed written ALL of it’

Welp, I am really not the best at being punctual. My writer’s block can be absolute brutal IM SO SO SORRY YOU GUYS.

So idk if people remember this story now so here's little recap:

RECAP: Y/N is Harry’s tour photographer and through this they become close and develop a strong friendship. But when you are spending every second of your day with someone, feelings are bound to occur. As the American leg of his tour comes to an end, a little tussle here and there leads to Harry admitting his feelings for her and them getting a little tipsy and ending up spending a night together.

Now the morning after is not the most pleasant and expectant for them. Find out in Part - 4!

Genre: angst

PICTURE THIS - part:4

---

The morning after is never the easiest. And they knew and had fathomed so the moment Harry’s alarm blared out loud at 8 in the morning.

Harry was careful to have turned it off the second it made a sound and he turns around on his bed, hoping to sleep beside her a little longer. A little longer before both of them would dread and regret it – but mostly her.

But to his much dismay, when he turns over, she has sat up and thrown her feet down the bed on her side, giving him her back as the first view of the morning since yesterday night.

“Y/N.” He calls out, not realizing it, and later feels that his calling happened to have alarmed her even more.

She hurriedly snatches the top of the sheets and dashes for the bathroom, grabbing her clothes on the way. Harry falls back on the bed, defeated and closes his eyes shut to process everything from the night before.

What a disaster it was to bring to their friendship.

With the same lingering thought in her head, she changed into her clothes and came out of the bathroom.

Harry is already outside waiting for her, clad in only his boxers and he immediately jumps to his feet on seeing her.

“Y/N…”

“Last night…” She begins.

“I meant it.” He says before she gets to finish her sentence. She looks up at him from the ground, flushed. “I meant everything, I swear.”

Her mouth parts but the loss of words makes her retract back. She feels weak in the knees as she throws the sheet she had carried with her on the ground and takes a deep breath.

“How did we even end up doing that?”

He cringes at her choice of words. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t. But it means a lot to me-“

“Oh, for god’s sake please stop saying that!” She raises her voice. “It is not making me feel any better, Harry.”

He gulps, looking away. “I am sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” He says, looking at her again. “I think you take some time to think this over. To go through whatever you felt last night – just think about them again.”

“I-“

“I really thought it would be easy to just be your friend. Just let you go on some occasions, to let you not give me time but – but, I don’t think I can do that.” He breathes. “I don’t want to be just your friend, Y/N. I don’t want to be just a part of your time; I don’t want you to choose anybody else but me; and I don’t want to have to lose you to somebody else.”

Her heart shakes frantically inside her.

“Y/N, I want to be something more to you than just your – your friend.” He finishes, shakily breathing himself. “And I won’t put you through any pressure. You can think over this, I swear. As much time as you want, as many days as you’d like – all my time is yours now. I promise.”

She looks away from him, not ready to absorb all that he has said. Why is there a hesitation now? Why can she not speak up at all? Where is her resolved mind on this?

“We have a flight to catch.” She finally says. “I’ll see you there.”

She left the room right after.

Harry shed some meaningless tears thereafter, not sure what was it that was making him cry so much as he stood under the shower, reliving the night. He packed his luggage then and he also packed her purse she had left behind in the check-in luggage, clearly with no resolve to return it to her soon.

He cannot believe he said everything to her. He places his hand on his heart now and then, feeling it beating for real and comes to it that it really was no dream.

He really meant everything he said, everything he did. He has never experienced this panic and anxiety in a long time as he had when he saw her be so cold and not feel comfortable with him. Why was this discomfort? Was it because of the line they had drawn on their relationship? Of just being friends?

He thought of their life if they weren’t just friends but something more. Though the thought of always having her around and them being together always felt a little obsessive in a way but he did not ever want her compromising and being with someone else.

When they were seated in the airplane after a lot of running around and checking in, their eyes met when she was walking past his seat to the hers.

They locked eyes but she spoke nothing with them either. She appeared shaky and confused and she rushed past, and in that moment, another thought occurred to him.

What if she did not feel the same way as him? What if the amount of happiness and love she has shown and given him, he hasn’t been able to give her the same? He thought of the other people she could be with and if they would give her happiness she truly deserves and he undermines his ability to give her the same.

The sullen thoughts keep him up the entire flight. He does not turn around to look out for her; he does not get up even once thinking he might crash into her and shake her resolve – which could also be to not be with him.

And he accepted how things were until she would herself want to come around.

She extends her legs up to where her seats allow, breathing out loud as if she has been tired for so long. She hasn’t let her mind think over too much – all she did was pack her stuff in, rush over to the airport with the others and check in as soon as she could and be home.

But now in the dim lights of her the airplane, she feels her mind kick back in all that happened to her. And not just memories of last night and this morning but all and everything that her life has been this past few months.

Meeting Harry, spending that one night together just getting to know each other, becoming friends without the spell of that uncomfortable confrontation, The entire tour, private photoshoots, cooking for each other, drinking, laughing and finally yesterday.

If only he could have straight away asked her what she felt and not guilt tripped her this way. Why was she even taking time? She has loved him for all this while and now when he is admitting it to her, what in the bloody hell is holding her back?

She bites her lip in the sudden spur of excitement. God, everything he does to her can never not make her feel like electricity sparking through her. Even right now.

In the aftermath of it all, she decides to tell him everything when they off of this flight. They will start afresh and they will start all bright.

“Gahh, I’m done.” Sameera, one of the management faculty and a close friend, sighs beside her as she shuts her laptop down. She had been working on and on since they had departed, going about writing mails and what not and up till now, Y/N had not thought to ask what it was.

“Finally…” Y/N drawls in the same tone as her. Sameera chuckles and puts away her laptop and stretches her legs.

“It’s gonna be hectic once again when we get to London. I can’t really sit straight, can I?” She grunts.

“Why?”

“Ah, just management stuff, man. There is never just one thing I am dealing with – it all just comes plummeting down.”

Y/N gives a pat to her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, babe. And let me know if I can help with anything. I would, I swear I would.”

Sameera gladly smiles and places her head on her shoulder. Then she opens her laptop and begins to work again. Y/N reads over certain words looking over her head and her curiosity perks up.

“Can I ask you what the assignment is on?”

Mindlessly, Sameera answers back, too indulged in her work. “We’re hooking Harry up with a name. You know, pretend to be involved and stuff. It helps keep the tour in the news and of course, Harry’s name too.”

“Hooking him up?”

“Yeah, like fake dating. But Harry does meet them up and many a times he’s liked them and been with them too for a while.”

Y/N’s silence makes Sameera explain a bit more.

“It’s just PR stunting. It’s been a part of the cycle for some time now. Harry’s okay with it too now I think. He meets them, likes them so hangs out with them or dislikes them and we try to shake off the rumour within a month or two. It’s just how it is.”

There is no more information shared. Sameera is on her work for some time and then she naps away the rest of the flight.

Y/N stays up, too shaken by the reality thrashing her in the face. She was taking chances by betting to be with a star – someone always in the limelight, always living for the limelight. She doubts if she will be able to hold up amidst all this glamour; and hurting one another is the last thing she would want to happen.

She closes her eyes and waits for this time to pass too.

It was close to almost a week since they had returned. The concerts scheduled thereafter were in two days from today and things were very hectic.

She was called in throughout rehearsals and back stage shooting. She would do her work and leave.

He would come over and do his part. He, however, would leave with a longing heart.

It wasn’t easy at all to ignore him. They would end up speaking a few words here and there but the silence that filled right after was impossible to be shaken. The walls that she had begun to build around herself to protect both him and her were starting to bother Harry more than he could imagine.

She saw him shrink more and more into himself and she only hoped he would understand her without having to say anything.

But, he finally loses patience and calls her up today.

When she reaches his place after the call, she is only carrying her camera bag and nothing more, and she rings the bell.

“Come in.” He tells her at the door, walking into his house and leaving her outside.

She closes the door on our way and follows behind him, entering the balcony.

“Let’s get started.” He purses his lips, clasping his hands together.

She nods, placing her camera on the nearby table to her. Sighing, she looks up at him.

“Why are we doing this again?”

He chuckles, humourless. “We always did this – informal photoshoots. Just you, me and you camera.” He throws him arms exaggeratedly towards her camera.

She hesitates, breathing shakily. “No, I meant…why now?” Beginning to unpack her stuff, she continues. “You have your show in like 2 days, why get into this hassle now?”

She watches as he turns his back on her and stretches, all out of restlessness. She gulps and decided to shut up.

“Okay, I am ready-“

His chuckle again makes her stop. “Funny how things we previously did for fun now seem like a hassle, do they now?”

He stands by the railing of the balcony, leaning on it with his arms spread to his sides and gives her a sad look. She cannot say a word to him and only looks him in the eyes with the same look as his.

He takes his eyes off immediately and breaks the tension.

“Let’s get started.”

The shoot is simple. He is in a soft cotton shirt with a few unbuttoned buttons on the top and bottom, and the light wind in the balcony flows around the light material, matching the lost, dewy look of the shoot.

She keeps on going clicking pictures. He almost would always tell her when to stop but today he doesn’t. He lets her keep doing her job as much as she can, telling him to pose, to look somewhere else and everything. She has no clue to how ask him if he is done.

The sun sets in the background. The natural light that they had depended on now turns to dark and this makes the perfect excuse for her to step back.

“Guess we are done.” She says, pulling her camera to herself to preview.

“No.” Harry ascertains, making her look up once again at his somber tone. “Try with the flash this time.”

She gulps, letting out a dry chuckle, tired with the brutal behavior of his.

“Harry, please.” Her voice is low and tired. “Let’s stop.”

His fists ball at his sides. He feels all the pent-up emotion, the remorse, the pain come back to him and he takes two long steps towards her to now stand right with just an inch of a distance between their noses.

“Stop what?” He grits through his teeth. “Stop even being friends? Even talking and being as we were? Why?”

She steps back one, shaky with the proximity. Her mouth opens to speak but he cuts her to it.

“Scratch that. I want my answer. I want to know what do you want from this and what it meant for you to be in my arms that night, kissing me, touching-“

“Harry!” She cries. Her face softens as their eyes meet – his rage and angst all making her heart pound.

She turns on her heel and scurries back inside the house, picking her camera bag from the floor.

He is trailing right behind her. “Y/N –“

“I just don’t want to hurt any one of us.” She turns around to face him again, putting a little distance between the two of them.

“And what about this? Is this not testing enough?!” He cries back at her.

“Harry-“

“Okay, no, no, wait.” He walks over to her. “You told me you love me that day. You told me you love me – didn’t you?”

She closes her eyes, nodding. “I do, I love you so, so much.”

He cracks a half grin. “Then what is it? I love you too, so much. More than you can imagine.”

“You don’t get it.” Shaking her head, she continues. “We are so much less involved in each other’s life when we are friends. You realize being together would complicate it all so, so much.”

“What is the complication for? It is all in your head.”

“Harry!” She puts him down with one raise of her voice. “Please. Understand this; you live in this bubble around all the glam and you have things to do that you are bound to – there is no way you can avoid them.” She pauses. “I am a simple girl. All I seek is small things, sought out things – simple things.”

He shuts up then. His voice holds no longer the desperate tone. He is confused, severely at that, and now all he wants is answers.

“What is it about my life? You’ve been with me for the entire tour, Y/N. I don’t think I did anything for you to feel that my life could be any complicated -“

“Harry, I was with you but always from a distance. You have your commitments, your duties as an artist that you’ve got to fill –“

“You’re going round in circles, saying the same thing over and over again, Y/N.” He cries out.

She takes a deep breath and squares up to spill the truth. “I do not understand this whole thing about going from dating one person to another.”

His eyes squint in surprise. “What-“

“Yes, you’ll have to be with multiple people at times, all through the year and you’ve done that in the past too-“

“Have you ever tried to understand this whole thing or are you just making assumptions –“

“It is the truth, Harry, and that is what gets to me every time I think –“

“Will you let me explain what this whole thing is and how it goes or –“

“No, Harry!” She shouts this time. “This is how you guys are. You go around jumping from one person to date to another – what would you do with being with a commoner? What good would she do to you? Will you get the same kind of promotions, be in the same way in the news, will remain as popular as ever?”

He opens and closes his mouth, her words hitting like spikes to his heart.

“Okay, okay.” She takes a breath out, calming. “Just give it a thought, you know – think a bit logically and realistically. You will need to think about your career at the end of the day. I get it, I get it, there is feelings and all but if we do get together, neither of us would be happy because – because our professional lives and image would keep clashing and –“

Both of them know she is blabbering like a mess now.

He takes a step back from her, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah, yeah –“

“You understand me, right? You get it too.” She tries to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah!” He says to loudly and quickly. “I get it. Absolutely. Perfectly.”

They both takes long breaths and look at one another. Their eyes blood shot red, and their faces show the tiredness and hopelessness. They both know this is in no way sought out.

Finally, with the same expressions on his face, he tells her, “Now, get out.”

She feels an invisible force push her steps back to the door. She accepts the defeat and the end and she nods.

“Trust me, this is for the best, Harry.”

---

Hope everyone’s keeping well and being safe. My wishes and love to you all.

Look forward to part:5 coming soon and show some love to this write up too!

Thank you for the love and support!

Big looove

- Shri <3

MASTERLIST O PART1 O PART2 O PART3

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fic #friends to lovers fic #fic writing #harry styles writing #angst #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #imagines #friends to lovers writing

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solli · 4 years

Text

“i sent a selfie of myself to the wrong number but you responded and you’re really hot” AU (x)

mentions of smexy pictures and suggestive imagery. also I now have a drabble spree collection on ao3

Blaine is about to die.

He would like not to, but he can see the life he yet has to live slipping right through the fingers of his cold, clammy hands.

“Fuck.” he mutters under his breath. He’s surprised he still has breath to waste.

“What’s wrong, Blainey Day?” Tina asks from the other side of the breakfast table.

“Fuck.” he says again.

He has no idea how he’ll say anything different ever again.

“Blaine?” Tina asks, more worried, looking up from her own phone.

He shuts down his phone and shoots on his feet.

“I forgot I had a capoeira lesson.”

“You have those on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Fuck Tina and her obsessive knowledge of his schedule.

“I have an extra one. It’s a seminar. That’s why I forgot.”

She doesn’t seem particularly convinced, but he doesn’t wait around to answer any question. He picks up his messanger bag and runs out of the apartment. He has no idea were to go, he just knows that he should probably avoid river banks.

He ends up holing himself away in a Starbucks, because nothing says millenial misery like crying over a missent selfie in a coffeehouse chain.

He can’t bear the thought of taking his phone out of his pocket.

His thigh buzzes. Then again.

He’s supposed to tell his mother how many of his friends he’s bringing to the housewarming of their new vacation house by the lake.

He tentitevely takes out his phone.

He’s got a text from his mother and two more for the stranger he sent a photo of himself kneeling on a bed. Thank God he had underwear on. White boxer briefs he was pulling down on one side so low that some hair that shouldn’t be seen were in fact showing, but still. At least he isn’t butt naked.

Curse the day he decided that there wasn’t much difference between a bathing suit and underwear anyway.

He’s terrified of opening that chat. How did he even think that sending Eli a selfie was a good icebreaker to go from instagram DMs to texting he has no idea.

Okay, he has a few. Thank God he didn’t send a back pic, he tends to take those naked. Tended. Past tense. He isn’t sending another risque pic in his life.

He takes a deep breath. It’s better to just rip the bandaind off. He knows it’s pics already, he’s looked at them long enough to realize it surely wasn’t Eli he texted.

All of his blood rushes to his dick. He doesn’t feel his feet anymore, nor he has enough circulation in his brain to think. He can just stare.

One of the photos is a bird’s-eye view of a lean, pale guy lying on white sheets, hips up, white skin scattered with freckles and beauty marks. He’s got a hand just above his bully button, at least six rings stacked on three fingers, and God those are abs, just defined enough that Blaine could lick through the ridges.

All of which he takes in in the corner of his eyes because nested next to it is a shot clearly taken balancing the phone of said lickable abs, framing black briefs pulled down on one side (smartass), a rather snug buldge, and very very long legs, one raised to show a lean slim thight that Blaine just bets would feel incredibly firm if he was to, say, dig his fingers into it as sucked him off.

Whomever he was.

The dick hasn’t included a face pic. Which is extremely unfair since Blaine’s is completely visible- which might have been a grave mistake but it wasn’t like his mirror selfie was that bad. He wasn’t tecnically showing nothing.

He’s aware of the extreme irony of this trail of thoughts, but he can’t help shifting on his chair and reading the texts below the pics.

It occured to me that my spontaneous photoshoot might have contribuited to the growing archive of a ring of nudes trading and not, as I originally thought, to give something back to a misguided hot guy who happened to have a wrong number.

In that case, I’d like to retire my application.

He snorts. He types back before he knows he’s doing it.

What if it is really was a misguided hot guy who typed in the wrong number because he has two brain cells to budget and he likes to waste it all on photography and stage lighting?

Well. It depends. Has the misguided hot guy enjoyed what he saw?

He might be half hard in a Starbucks

Who hasn’t been at least once.

But how can I be sure you’re not catfishing me?

Blaine bites his lips. Oh, hell. He already has a picture of his face. He snaps a selfie, cute smile with a hint of embarassed wrapped in a photogenic smize.

Fuck, you’re pretty.

Blaine blushes.

Would like to say the same but I only know you have a ring fetish :/

A pic comes in a few seconds later, and Blaine thinks he might have just fallen in love.

He’s gorgeous. Wild hair, pale skin, red thingreengreyblue eyes, even more freckles, even more beauty marks. He’s resting his cheek against his hand and he’s indeed making a :/ face.

Another pic immedietely comes through. It’s him smirking in a knowing way, and he had to have already took it before Blaine even responded.

He’s tempted to snap another fic but he’s a splotchy blusher and he would hate to ruin the surprise for him.

So, you’ve got a NY number.

I was about to ask you your whereabouts but that was profoundly unsexy.

Almost as much as your full stops

I find them very sexy, I like to finish things off properly.

Smooth

It doesn’t work like that. You either put it at the end of the sentence or you don’t.

I was planning to send you another selfie after finishing things off properly later tonight but if that’s what you think

You have to know the rules before you can break them

Blaine laughs and ignores his face burning hot on the hand he’s leaning his cheek against.

I do am in NY by the way. Tisch

Columbia.

Of course

What does that mean?

Hot, gorgeous, witty and smart. Where’s the catch?

You tell me. I’m still not convinced you’re a sleazy sixty something balding men trying to find escape from an heterosexual marriage.

Tell me your name.

Only because you put a full stop. It’s Sebastian.

He does sound like a Sebastian. Blaine writes it with a pen on the side of his coffee cup, adding an “Hi, Sebastian, I’m” over the black marker “Blaine”, and a “:)” right after.

Hi, Blaine. Hope you’re not being held hostage.

Why don’t you come and check on me?

He attaches his position. The Starbucks is crowded enough that it doesn’t feel like a complete idiocy.

Give me 20 minutes.

He ends up giving him 31 minutes and one more coffee. He’s scrolling through instagram when someone crashes with grace on the seat in front of him, coiffed hair, a deep red t-shirt and a cheeks reddened by the early summer sun.

”So?” Sebastian asks in a scruffy drawl, ”Where’s the catch?”

Blaine is way more flustered that he thought he’d be, considering he basically told Sebastian he was going to jerk off to his pictures later in the night.

Sebastian checks him out and Blaine is glad he knows how to play his cards, if the way Sebastian’s eyes linger around the height of his flushing cheekbones tells him something.

”I think we both have an entire coffee date to find that out.” he smiles leaning over to rest his temple on his hand.

Sebastian smiles back, and Blaine might have to text his mother he’s bringing one more guest to the housewarming party.

#seblaine #seblaine fic #this is way longer than it should have been #also it's 1am and i'm writing another one #editing? i don't know her

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happojin-blog · 5 years

Note

not quite a prompt - but imagining how indignant Spinner would be upon finding out Shigaraki fucked Stain is lots of fun

Anon this is a prompt and I love it.

[Ficlet] Oh No You Didn’t

Spinner finds out Shigaraki fucked Stain.

T | 700 | One-Shot

“Stain this, Stain that,” Shigaraki groaned, scratching his head through his shaggy hair. “Whythe fuck are you still so obsessed with that guy… he wasn’t even a good lay.”

Spinnerspun around.

“What thehell?!”

Shigarakiwas dragging his feet a few steps behind and came to a stop a little closer to Spinner –looking down at him, looking bored.

“What? Seriously,he wasn’t whatever kind of sex god you’re envisioning.”

“Take thatback! I mean what!” Spinner was mad with fury within seconds. “That joke isn’tfunny, Shigaraki!”

“Huh…?”Shigaraki’s already bulging eyes widened. “What? It’s the truth, he was shit inbed.”

Spinner stomped the ground, saying:

“Stainisn’t a homo!”

His greenface was red, his hands clenched into fists.

Shigarakicocked his head to the side, grimacing.

“I didn’tsay that, you think I asked how he identifies…? We just fucked.” Not hisproudest moment, admittedly.

Spinner took a deep breath through gritted teeth. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

“I knowwhat you’re doing,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “You’re trying toprovoke me.”

“Believewhat you want…? Such a pain in the ass.” Shigaraki started walking again, passingSpinner to his left.

Counting toten didn’t work for that.

“Oi! Whatthe hell do you mean-“

An hourlater, Spinner glowered at Shigaraki, who was lazing around with a newspaper he’d made them bring him.

“You didnot have sex with Stain.”

“Thisagain? How many times do I have to say it, I don’t care if you believe it ornot. Drop the fucking Stain topic already.”

He crumbled the paper in his hand, with the middle finger raised.

Spinner would not be deterred.

“It justwouldn’t make sense,” he insisted. He was sitting cross-legged andcross-armed, in a cross mood, eyes closed in protest. “Why either of you woulddo that, or any man at all for that matter, but especially him… No, it doesn’tfit at all.”

“Whatdoesn’t fit…? The penis?”

Flustered,Spinner spurted out: “You-!” only to open his eyes and seeing Shigaraki snigger at him. He clicked his tongue, collecting himself. “I knew it, you’re justmaking fun of me.”

Only thistime though. Shigaraki shrugged.

“Admit it!”

“How areyou still yelling? Fuck’s sake, Spinner. I get that you’re a virgin but do youhave to be so annoying when it comes to sex? Get over it already.” He’d put afinger in his ear and was glaring without a real threat behind it. “Is it thegay thing? Seriously, how’s two guys dicking each other any weirder than you alreadyhaving two dicks to yourself, huh?”

Spinnerstartled out of his position, scrambling backwards.

“W-w-w-what? Wait,how do you even know that? That’s private!”

Shigarakilooked him straight in the eye and said:

“I Googledit when you joined the League.”

Spinner’sscales paled. His voice was weak, stuttering:

“Shigaraki,you… why would you…?”

Dropping the crumpled paper carelessly on the ground, littering without a conscience, Shigaraki stood up. He looked down at Spinner’s wide-eyed expression.

“Do you really need me to spell it out to you, huh?”

Spinnergulped, as Shigaraki advanced on him. He couldn’t get away fast enough for his leader to suddenly be there, in his face, crouched down just so, refusing to let him look away.

“Annoying as it is,” Shigaraki drawled, while putting his hand on Spinner’s burning cheek, just barely lifting his thumb, “if you do wanna follow in your precious hero killer’s footsteps… and actually try to surpass him too… I’m up for it.”

He stared back at him, too shocked to say anything, unable to process the proposition at all. Was he for real? Was that what it sounded like? Spinner’s mind was spinning, filled with doubts and kneejerk reactions, curiosity and disgust, until Shigaraki flicked him on his beak. Harshly.

“Think about it,” he said, before Spinner had a chance to protest. “Offer stands until I change my mind. So long as you think you can make it worth my while, well…”

There was a sensuality to Shigaraki’s hoarse voice suddenly, giving Spinner pause. He swallowed - knowing that for as much as he’d wanted to deny it, he’d known from the start that Shigaraki had been telling the truth. Somehow he had fucked Stain, and for some reason, now he wanted to fuck Spinner too.

Seeing the realisation finally dawn on him, Shigaraki gave him one last, crooked grin, and said:

“No homo.”

#spinaraki #shippy #fanfiction #ficlet

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stevenbasic · 5 years

Photo

So, again, here I am, maybe a little shamefaced from the way the night ended, sitting in my boxers on my bed. But still, anyways, it was a great evening, right? So what if I spilled a little wine on our guest - it was all in fun. And I can’t believe how nice Sheryl was being, to both Melissa and to me. How warm she seemed, how great everything went. I’m sitting here expectantly waiting for her to come in to the bedr-

whoahhhhh….

“W-wowwww...Sheryl,” I remark, obvious admiration in my voice, as my wife of twelve years, corporate attorney and MBA, steps into the room, “you look great…”

“Thank youuu…” she drawls, my reaction bringing a satisfied smile and a glint to her eye as she walks over to her makeup table, begins to remove her earrings. Rather than the shapeless sweats she’d usually be wearing as pajamas, she has on a short, silk robe that exposes her bare, fit legs. It’s cinched tight around her thin waist and the feminine, floral pattern clings to her curves.

“So...Melissa,” she says, placing one earring down carefully, back turned to me, “I’m glad we had her over.”

“Y-yeah...thank you,” I respond, unable to help admire the bit of rear she’s built, fitness classes four times a week, “It was good you, uh, suggested we, uh…have her over…” Her legs are tan and shaved smooth.

Sheryl looks at me in the mirror. “She totally worships the ground you walk on, you realize?” she says with directness as she works on her second earring, “Do you see how she looks at you?”

“Oh, uh…” I stammer, suddenly caught a little off guard, “that’s just...that’s, uh…” I do, I have to admit, realize that Melissa’s opinion of me may be a bit inflated. That there’s a little bit of, uh, admiration there. “Y’know, I’m her boss…”

"You know what she said to me? When we were alone in the kitchen?” Sheryl continues, “‘You're such a lucky lady, Sheryl, to be married to someone like Dr J…’”

“R-really..?” I laugh, a nervous chuckle, “th-that’s, uh…”

“‘I admire him so much,’” she adds, placing down the earring, “‘he’s such a great man. So kind and smart and generous.’” She starts to undo the clasp of her necklace, her large, costume pearls, but then reconsiders. She leaves them on.

“Oh, man, haha,” I say, trying my best to sound surprised and embarrassed and humble despite the proud little thrill this is giving me. It’s also starting to make me anxious...what does Sheryl think of all this praise?

“‘I wish I could find a guy like him…’”

To that, I don’t know what to say. Even in my half-drunk state, I realize it’s maybe best not to say anything.

“Anyway, I like Melissa” she concludes plainly, taking a pin out of her blond hair, shaking it free. “I thinks she’s going to do fine at the office. I know you’re worried she’s young, she doesn’t have much experience, but I really think she’s going to...grow into the job.” She unties the belt of her wrap.

At that, my wife looks at me again in the mirror of her antique makeup table, makes sure I’m watching, and drops her robe.

“Oh my god, Sheryl…” I say, my eyes going wide when I see what she’s wearing, the silk pooled at her feet.

I thought she’d been taking a little more time than usual to get ready for bed...and this is why. This is lingerie she knows I love, a negligee I haven’t seen in years.

She watches me watch her in the mirror, and then turns her head, letting my eyes drift unchecked up and down her trim curves. Though she looks good from behind, my eyes focus on her front, on what I can see in the mirror. I remember this sheer, underwire teddy, how it marvelously emphasizes and accentuates her already healthy chest. The implants she had done for me, a couple years after we were married, aren’t big but lend an undeniable bustiness to her otherwise slender frame.

My heart starts to quicken. Our marriage has had its challenges, and has not been good as of late, an unspoken coolness having settled over it. The last intimacy between us, in fact, was months ago, me going down on her for her birthday.

But it looks like she may have thoughts to change that, tonight.

“Too much wine, hm honey?” she asks, as she turns and begins to approach the bed. Reaching me, where I sit, her chest is right at eye level. Her hand comes out to slide into my hair. “Too many glasses, too many...big cups, tonight?”

I look up at her with a tenuous, unsure smile. She’s joking, making fun of me. But is she talking about herself? Or Melissa? Either way...it’s fucking sexy. Arousal has already begun to rear itself inside me, my pulse quickening in my belly. I remember times like this, flirty times, mischievous times. Times before my affairs. I feel the excitement...Sheryl can be so hot, she knows how to talk to me, when she wants to. She knows how to tease...

“I'm sorry you spilled…” she continues, putting her breasts right in front of me, keeping me from looking anywhere else, “those big, big, full glasses... so top heavy, hm?”

I laugh, a little, letting myself feel relaxed, letting myself enjoy how...indulgent Sheryl is being with me. “Yes...really...top heavy.” I repeat.

“Too much to drink, you poor guy,” she coos, that gorgeous smile of her compassionate, “here, let me take care of you…”

She coaxes me down onto the bed, laying me on my back, scootching me over enough so she can climb onto the bed and lay down aside me, semi-reclined. Next to me like this, she makes sure her breasts are right there, easy for me to look at.

My breath quickens, I let out a little gasp as she starts, with tender fingers, to caressing my chest, my stomach.

“Sheryl you don’t h-”

“Shhhhhh….” she hushes me, inching her cleavage closer, “shhhhh. You have all these girls taking care of you at the office, let me take care of you here…”

And with that her hand slides under the waistband of my boxers, takes hold of my already meat-thick cock. To that I can only groan, and my head falls back onto the pillow.

“Ooo all this talk about work turning you on, hm?” she giggles, “You’re getting hard for me already…”

“Oh my god, Sheryl…” I moan, closing my eyes, half-disbelieving what’s happening here, this unforeseen affection.

“No no no..!” she scolds, playfully, as she’s moving to pull down my boxers, reposition her chest in front of my face, “Open your eyes, look at me, honey.”

Doing as I’m told, I open my eyes and turn my head to the right, towards her. Her breasts fill my vision, right there over me. Laying on her side, one falls fleshily onto the other, creating a deep, soft cleavage.

“That's right...look at my tits,” she half-whispers, quietly acknowledging my breast obsession as her feminine hand begins its work, “It's okay, I don't mind, look at them. Look at my d-cups.”

I groan, not quietly. She knows I like it when she calls them that, though we both know it’s a stretch. Implants, yes, maybe a hundred cc’s more than she wanted. A compromise for her original A-cup frame, a gift to me early in our marriage to fuel what she knew was my powerful attraction to big breasts. Aside from fun in the bedroom, I also tend to think they’ve helped her at work, help her climb a bunch of corporate ladders. The look is big on her thinness, especially in heroic lingerie such as this, but they’re actually not much larger than healthy c-cups.

“D-cups…”’ I moan despite myself, drunk on wine, whisky and women, ogling her breasts.

To that she chuckles, her hand grasped fully around me, stroking me, slowly falling into a rhythm. The skin of her hand is soft, smooth; she works with practiced ease, knowing my body.

She looks me over, as I stare into her tits. “So, honey,” she offers, “if this work stuff turns you on so much, maybe I should come to work with you, hm? Be one of your girls?”

I moan, quietly, wordlessly. Oh god she knows how to talk.

“You’d like that, huh?” she continues, working my cock with her gentle strength, keeping her cleavage perfectly positioned in front of my heavy-lidded eyes, “If I was one of your girls? One with a crush on you? One with a crush on the kind, smart, generous Dr. J?”

“Yes, oh god, Sheryl, yes…” I murmur, barely caring what I’m saying just focused on the breasts in front of me, focused on how they fill my world, focused on how big they look. ‘34H’ comes into my head. 34H...34H...34H...

“Maybe I should come to work with you? Be your ‘personal assistant’?” she presses, her hand workmanlike around my now solid, throbbing cock, “Maybe I could spend the day under your desk? Would you like that, huh? If you can spend the whole day in my mouth?”

“Oh my god, Sheryl...Sheryl…” I say, my voice becoming ragged, a sigh coming with each breath, “yes...yess…” I’m imagining it, imagining being in her mouth. In Sheryl’s big, wide, wet mouth. Deepthroating her under my desk...with Melissa sitting across from me.

“That’s right, baby, picture it, picture it,” she continues, her hand picking up speed, sliding faster and faster up and down the thick shaft of my manhood. “Your girl, your girl…”

She’s wearing that sweater, the same white sweater she wore tonight, sitting there. Dark raven hair falls softly around her shoulders, her smile crooked and knowing. Her tits are so huge, her eyes right on me, watching me watch her, watching me look at her breasts. Remember how you could see her bra through her sweater? She knows you were looking.

”Look at these tits…” Sheryl says, inching me closer and closer to my impending climax with her hand, with her cleavage, “imagine if they were bigger...imagine if they were so huge...” Faster and faster she pumps, she pumps, she pumps...

Oh god yes, yes, 34H, as she poses for me, first pulling shoulders back then squeezing them together. My eyes fall in between the twin swells of her mammoth chest, soft and bulging and huge I’m losing myself, mouth gaping. 34H. I’m so close, I’m so close….I’m going to...I’m going to...

I’m going to…

“You're thinking about her, aren't you?” she says plainly, just as I crest over the edge, just as she watches me start to come, “You’re thinking about Melissa.” My eyes go wide, startled...but I can’t help myself. I explode, I explode in her hand and I feel the first spurts of my orgasm splatt me in the chest. She pumps me once, twice, more and more and more as I groan in pain and sudden disgrace, the shock of climax abruptly bringing me shame in its pleasure. She’s milking it out of me, my hot briny juices, my humiliation, each spurt each throb another admission of my own guilt.

“n-n-nuh...n-n-no...Sh-Sherylll…” I start to groan.

“Shut up asshole,” she snaps, suddenly dropping me, dropping me into my own stickiness, even as I continue to pulse and throb. I spasm helplessly, stammering in grunts as still in climax I watch her sit, stand, reach over my twitching self to grab her pillow and storm out of the room.

#Growing Into the Job

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

the enigma [olivia nevrakis interview]

Drake’s Interview

Maxwell’s Interview

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @notoriouscs @be-still-my-aching-heart @katedrakeohd

Warnings: Mentions about sex toys. This is Olivia, after all.

**************************************************************

I am waiting for my interview subject to finish modelling for our cover shoot. We are shooting in a manor just outside of Cordonia and the room is filled with flowers, ornate chairs, glimmering chandeliers, fashion assistants, catering staff and our enthusiastic photographer.

The one person who isn’t enthusiastic is the model herself.

Olivia Nevrakis is lounging on the floor, silk and satin sheets beneath her with flowers strewn around the feet. She is wearing a pink and white gown with pink taffeta underneath the layers; she looks like she is wearing a rose.

‘I hate pink..’ Olivia grumbles in between photos. She holds an open book in her hand and flashes that famous Nevrakis stare at the camera. I look at the screenshots and can’t deny it; she may hate pink but she makes the outfit look regal.

‘You look gorgeous, darling!’ the photographer exclaims. Olivia arches an eyebrow. ‘Oh, I know..’ she purrs, before striking another pose.

Once the photographs are taken, Olivia is helped to her feet by an intern. ‘Get me a coffee,�� she orders him. The intern nods, clearly nervous. ‘Um, black? Latte? Cappuccino?’

‘Ask someone else your impertinent questions..’ Olivia drawls, before striding over to where I’m standing. She holds out a hand which I shake. ‘Let’s do this, shall we?’

I am also rendered speechless. Olivia has an air about her that is intimidating. I’m not the first journalist to feel nervous about interviewing her and I doubt I will be the last. She stalks ahead of me and I watch as she takes her hair clip out of her bun, shaking her red hair out so it falls down her back like a waterfall. We enter a private room and Olivia pulls off her pearl bracelet, tossing it onto a table. There is a Chinese screen in the room, which she goes behind and starts to undress. I stand awkwardly as I see the pink dress flung over the screen, landing heavily on the floor.

Olivia comes out from behind the screen wearing a red lace bodysuit and black stilettos. She is tall, creamy skinned and as she moves, I can see her muscles flexing under her skin. I know that she is trained in taekwondo; in clothes, her muscles aren’t obvious, it is only when she is bare that you can see the effect her training has had. She shrugs on a red silk dressing down and ties it up before settling down on the chaise lounge in front of me.

‘I feel much better now,’ she breathes, eyeing me. I clear my throat and set the dictaphone down on the table between us. The door opens and the intern comes in holding a tray with three coffee cups on it. ‘I wasn’t sure which one to get you so I thought, be safe and pick all three of our choices,’ he babbles, setting the tray down. Olivia looks down at the coffees, her nose wrinkled. She takes the black coffee and adds two sugars. She looks at me. ‘Do you want one of these?’

I take the cappuccino and smile at the intern. He leaves the tray on the table with the extra latte. The door closes behind him and I turn to Olivia, who has a Cheshire Cat grin on her face.

‘I know I may come across as a bitch to you,’ she tells me, ‘but in this world, you kind of have to be. See, extra coffee.’ She indicates the latte that is still on the tray. ‘That intern was too scared to bring me just one coffee so he brought me different kinds in case I bit his head off.’

I am immediately wanting to ask her why she views the world like this. I want to find out about her upbringing and her parents, her life as a Duchess. I bite the bullet and ask her.

‘My parents were killed,’ she tells me point blank. ‘I had nobody but servants for company.’

I tell her it sounds lonely.

She shrugs, brushing off my concern. Olivia then reaches down into her bodysuit and brings a dagger out from her cleavage. She twirls it around her fingers; I slowly edge away.

Olivia grew up alongside King Liam. He is so kind and gentle, it is hard to imagine the two of them being friends. ‘I like to think we compliment each other actually..’ she says quietly. ‘He tries to make me a little nicer, a little more understanding, while I try to get him to be less gentle, less of a pushover. More of a badass.’

I ask if Liam is a pushover.

‘Oh god, yes!’ she laughs. ‘He hates conflict. When we were growing up, say it was his birthday, if his brother asked for the biggest slice, Liam would give him the bigger slice even though it was his own birthday. If it was me, I’d have shoved the cake in Leo’s face. In fact, I think I did once.’

Leo. The King’s older brother. Leo had been the king first but then abdicated and left Cordonia to do God knows what. He is often seen as the party boy royal, kind of like Britain’s Prince Harry before he grew up. I have heard he is charming flirtatious and makes women go weak at the knees.

Olivia rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, whatever..’

I ask jokingly if she has ever gone weak at the knees when confronted by Leo. She bristles and raises her chin defiantly. ‘I’m not that kind of woman, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m not pathetic.’

I go quiet. Clearly, I’ve hit a nerve. Olivia takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes studying me from above the rim of the cup. ‘You’re a woman,’ she says to me. ‘Do you go weak at the knees over men?’

I ponder her question. I have interviewed many swoonworthy male celebrities. I tell her I met Tom Hardy and the way he called me ‘pet’ made me giggle. She looks like she has swallowed something inedible and wants to throw up.

‘The only time a woman should go weak at the knees over a man is when he leaves her alone in the bedroom with a rampant rabbit and comes back with champagne on ice,’ she tells me dryly.

I’m shocked at how quickly this conversation has turned to talk about sex. But this is a woman’s magazine, sex is a topic we cover widely, so why not? Let’s talk about sex with Olivia Nevrakis.

‘I mean, men are good for some things,’ she relents. ‘But most of the time, no. If I want something done, I do it myself and that goes for everything, not just sex. I love being independent.’

I ask if she’s ever had a boyfriend. ‘Nobody I deemed important enough to give that label,’ she says shortly.

Has she ever had a crush on anyone?

‘Sure. I’m not a total ice woman.’

I ask if she’s seeing anyone now. She stares at me, her face unreadable. ‘I’d rather not say.’

She definitely is. Whoever he is, he has got to be some guy. An alpha who can challenge her but also someone who can keep up with her. I think about her circle of friends and wonder if any of the men in that group are secretly dating her. I always thought she would be well suited to the Duke of Valtoria, Drake Walker, but he married Camille Montespan last year.

‘What the fuck? Me and Drake?’ she asks in disbelief. ‘You are aware that I’m good friends with Camille, right?’

I nod, feeling my face go red.

‘Good. Now wash your mouth out with soap. They are so well suited, anyone who says otherwise is a moron.’

I tell her it’s only because Olivia and Drake are both outspoken and Drake is often pictured looking.. well, grumpy. Pissed off. Like he doesn’t like anything.

‘Drake is actually a sweetheart,’ she tells me. ‘He only gets pissed off because of the constant paparazzi stalking him and Camille. Fuck, I get pissed off when I’ve got photographers hounding me. You would too.’

Since the King was crowned, there seems to have been a new obsession about him and his friends; this new generation of young Cordonian nobility who are making a difference to the country.

Drake Walker spreads awareness for mental health - he launched a successful campaign called Mind over Matter which aimed to get Cordonian men together, outside, trekking, abseiling, rock climbing etc., while talking about their struggles with depression and anxiety. The country could donate money to the campaign which was dispensed to various mental health charities.

Duchess Camille re-introduced Open Houses, a dormant feature from 200 years ago in which she and Drake open their doors for their citizens, who visit to discuss issues and the Duke and Duchess work with them to help.

Cordonia is becoming more modern and all the better for it. This brings me to why I am interviewing Olivia.

Because as cold and harsh as she may be, Olivia Nevrakis has a heart. She has been working with the King to make foster care more prominent in the country.

Cordonia is known for being traditional. Anything outside of the typical family dynamic of two parents and 2 children is seen as radical; this means that adoption and foster care is not prevalent in the country. As an orphan, Olivia is keen to change this.

‘As I said, I grew up surrounded by servants in an old, crumbling manor. I had no parental guidance, which forced me to grow up very, very quickly.’ I see that she is opening up more now; gone is the hard stare, the bored drawl. She is now animated and gesturing with her hands to discuss this topic.

‘When Constantine ruled, I saw orphans out on the streets, playing barefoot in dirty clothes. Most people avoided them; they would literally cross the street to stay away from them. I didn’t. I would offer them money so they could buy food or a drink.’

I did not see that coming. Olivia shrugs. ‘I don’t want children to grow up desperate. I know I brushed off your concern before, but that is just how I deal with things. I brush off people’s pity. But fine, I’ll be honest. I hated being an orphan. I hate that feeling of being helpless so I taught myself taikwondo and defence skills. My parents had already instilled in me from a young age to know it is important to fight. Lythikos is a cold, tough place; if you have no survival skills, you’re a goner. I learned how to look after myself and I’ll admit, I picked up some fucked up ways of thinking. Like, I always carry a weapon. You saw my dagger just now. I don’t trust anybody as far as I can throw them.’

I sit in silence, scared to speak in case I lose her sudden honesty. ‘So, when Liam ascended the throne, we talked and I asked him to consider the orphans of Cordonia. Now, we’re developing a programme which is open to adults who have a job but also free time to raise a child, and offering them the option to foster these orphans. By taking in a child, the King will give them a monthly income to help pay for the child’s upkeep and that way, it’s a child off the streets.’

I am sceptical. Surely, some adults might take advantage and abuse this? Foster a child so they earn extra money.

‘The adults are tested about their knowledge of raising children. They have to prove they want to help a child, not to do it for their own gain. They have to do it out of the goodness of their hearts. So more families can take in orphans, more single adults can do it too.’

I ask if she would consider launching a defence training course for children. She grins. ‘Maybe in the near future..’

The foster care programme launches next month and is named ChildKind. Olivia smiles and nods when I confirm the name and leans into the dictaphone. ‘Tell your readers that I say, ‘sign up, bitches.’

She is more humorous now, more easygoing. It seems that it takes a while for Olivia to relax in interviews but once she is over that hurdle, she is easier to talk to. We go back to different topics and she is more forthcoming now.

I ask how she deals with sudden celebrity that she has commanded since Liam came to the throne. ‘I have set up four restraining orders for four different photographers,’ she says wearily. ‘It can be exhausting. But last month, I got away from it all with Camille and Hana.’

From Hana’s Instagram feed- which I urge you to check out, it’s so pretty- photos were put up of a girls trip. The three women went on a girls break to Mykonos. ‘We rented a villa, it was so secluded. Just a week of sunshine, drinking cocktails and swimming in the pool.’

I ask if any debauchery was had. She smirks. ‘What do you think?’

I imagine Hana is the quiet, sensible one. Olivia bursts out laughing; real laughter. ‘You would think that! Oh my God, give that girl a Tequila Sunrise and she is on the table. Nah, she is the wild one when she lets go. Camille is the mom of the group; she makes sure we’re wearing suncream, have drank enough water... she still got wasted though.’

Duchess Camille is always pictured looking elegant and sophisticated with her usual uniform of pencil dresses, nude heels and chignon hairstyles. I can’t picture her wasted.

‘She is a fun girl, always,’ Olivia tells me. ‘But she does need to let loose now she’s a Duchess. Plus she’s from New York, of course she’s not going to be elegant 100% of the time.. Bertrand taught her well about etiquette and royal duties, but there is still a crazy New Yorker in there. Put her with Drake, who loves a whiskey, and they become more American as the night goes on.’

How?

‘I swear I heard Camille say y’all in all seriousness..’ she tells me, groaning. ‘Of course, she says she was joking, but I think she genuinely said it. She forgot she was talking to me.’

I ask what Drake does to be more American. ‘He has a tipsy habit of saying ‘fixin’ to. Like, ‘I’m fixin’ to get another whiskey. It means he’s about to get another whiskey. Why not just say that? He’s so Texan sometimes. His voice becomes more of a drawl when he’s been drinking.’

I wonder what Olivia is like under the influence. She smirks. ‘Am I hell telling you that.’

That is when I get it. Olivia is an enigma; she has these walls up which are hard to climb over and she won’t discuss anything too personal. She will happily make fun of her friends or talk about important causes such as ChildKind. She will talk about sex- hell, she mentioned rampant rabbits in this interview- but she has layers which she deliberately hides. I know she is kind and engaging, I can glimpse it. I just feel that she would rather show her true self to someone who is deserving of it. Someone who is prepared to deal with everything that she is. Anyone else is just lucky to see above the surface.

#olivia nevrakis #trr fanfic #the royal romance

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wolf-in-a-suit · 6 years

Text

How to feed your new teenager

Show: Teen Wolf

Summary: Coach Finstock just wanted to pop open a beer and watch the game: Loafing on his couch late into the night. Little did he know that Sheriff Stilinski would swoop in and leave him with an odd teenager to take care of, namely you! Now the question is: Will both of you make it through the weekend without killing each other?

Can be read as the second part 2 of A gift for coach or as a stand-alone.

A low growl pierced the darkening evening sky. Your head hung low, obscuring the flashing yellow eyes and fangs that your rage awoke. For the spectators of the Lacrosse game, against St Hart, you were doubled over; clutching your stomach after the heavy tackle you received. "I'm sorry little girl, but that's how the big boys play!" The player that committed the foul boasted, blocking the glow of the floodlights and casting your form in shadow. That's it! Scott's ‘no-murder-policy’ wasn't worth this; you would teach that ass a lesson! The next growl shaking your frame stopped the still grinning douche in his tracks. Here was his chance: ‘Let it go, run home to mummy!’

Human instinct was astonishing: It could warn your clueless brain from things you weren’t even aware of existed; it was the last remain of a time before our evolutionary advancement. In this case: Douche felt his hairs stand up, and he took an involuntarily step back. But then his highly developed brain, registered that his buddies were watching; and his action could be interpreted as weakness. So his advanced brain decided on the only logical approach in this situation:

"Are you gonna cry now, little one?" That's it! The beast inside you took over and you started advancing. Just a few more steps, your claws now fully extracted. You raised your hand, ready to tear through red flesh and bones. Just three more steps, two… one. Suddenly the weight of two persons crashed into your side. Tumbling down you found yourself, face in the mud, for the second time, since you had replaced Greenberg-what a heroic image you must project! The concerned faces of Scott and Stiles appeared in your vision, blocking your murderous stare to your-soon-to-be-victim. "Okay, ___ just as we practiced." Stiles voice was unusual high and rushed. "Breathe in and out. In and out!" Your unnatural eyes now focused on his pale face, irises shrinking to needles.

"Stiles if you make this sound like a pregnancy course: I'm gonna kill you instead!" But you felt the wolf receding, the glow of your eyes losing their intensity. The jittery boy raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, seems like she's back to threatening me again… so: Totally rational and normal state of mind, apparently."

Scott ignored the exchange and waved for a replacement. "You best get out of the game for now." He pulled you up and patted your back. "You did well! You'll get the hang of it soon enough." Like hell, you did! You messed up and let the impostor inside you gain control again. "What the hell are you doing? Get your butt off the field! Are your planning on having a tea party there?" Dejected you jogged of the field, Coach Finstock already hollering at the top of his lungs. "Look here: This isn't one of these ‘I'm-to-posh-to-get-my-hands-dirty-sports’, so until you can take a hit: You're not gonna make first line! Understood?" Somehow, due to his warm and nurturing personality, the man always managed to make letting the wolf loose seem like a perfectly justified action. You just gave an aggressive ruck of your head indicating you understood and put as much distance between the two of you as the bleachers allowed. Thump. With too much force you threw yourself into a seat, sporting an expression that promised a slow and painful death for anyone having the suicidal idea of talking to you.

A hand on your shoulder made you startle and turn, eyes flashing yellow for a brief moment again. That was until you saw Lydia’s sympathetic face. „ Don't blame yourself; your instincts are just a little bit harder to fight than those of Scott and the others." You crossed your arms and growled: "Yeah, but I shouldn't mess up like this. I hate that thing inside me." Lydia cocked her head and seemed to come to conclusion: "Maybe that's exactly the problem: You don't accept the wolf as part of you: … so the two of you are caught in a tug of war." "Yeah your right! I'll never accept this thing as a part of me. It's a curse! ... When did you become the werewolf therapist anyway?" You pressed through clenched teeth. "Oh honey, its kind of part of the job description, being friends with you lot." She smiled when this received a snort from you, but the worried look haunting her brown eyes never vanished.

"So what’s the new drama, that can’t wait till the weekend to kick our asses?" You’re drawled strolling into the McCall home. "Somebody is in a great mood." Stiles greeted you with thumbs up. "I love that lifting spirit of yours, it's just so… motivating."

"What can I say: Fighting supernatural monsters with you and getting yelled at by Coach just formed me into that beautiful flower I am today." A few seconds later the door opened to reveal Parrish and Mr. Stilinski. "Wow, must be worse than I thought if you two are involved as well." When your look fell to the bandaged arm of Parrish you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Which resulted in everyone starring at you like you had lost your last marbles. As usual Lydia was the first going off. "What is wrong with you? Parrish could have been seriously hurt by that monster!" You held up your hands in what hopefully resembled a nonthreatening pose: Bad enough you didn't had the beast under control- god help if they thought you were a psychopath too! Being an apologetic murder machine was simply a faux pas in this town, being a dick was what drove people away. "No I... I just thought about how that thing can't be a Marley fan."

Now that, was an awkward pause! Obviously you were good with punching people: With a punchline- you looked at the vacant stares-not so much. A throaty laugh cut through the heavy air. Sheriff Stilinski rapped his knuckles on the kitchen table. "Good one kid." The weirded out expressions now turned to him, he just said. "It's a song: 'I shot the sheriff'." From across the room you shyly sang "but I didn't shoot the deputy..."

Lydia’s expression turned from weirded out, to angry, to confused and at your singing: Yep! There was the anger again- you really knew how to calm a situation. "We have a skin changer on our hands, targeting Finstock and you are making song references?" You shrank back because no power in the world, not even a werewolf, would cross Lydia Martin when angry. "Sorry, so what’s a skin changer and what does it want from Coach?" Here Scott, grateful for the change in topic, chimed in: "It can transform into any person, if it had long enough skin to skin contact with it." Gagging sounds drifted through the living room, Stiles and your vivid imagination gracing you with disturbing pictures. Scott ignored this: "All we know is that they seem prone to obsess about a potential victim and then... well... kill it..."

"Gut it… to be precise, and you wouldn't believe the pictures you find researching that. There was this one where…" "Stiles!" A chorus of voices interrupted his rambling with urgency. "So how do we hunt this thing and protect Coach at the same time?" All eyes drifted to you. "Guys I don't like it when you do that! You still owe my car a cleanup, and it makes me nervous!" Lydia smiled "Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?" ‘She’s just sore because she didn't get the Dylan reference’, shot through your head when they started their plan of hell. Throwing you into the deep end, once more.

Robert Finstock was many things: An econ teacher, coach... well perhaps not that many things, but the point was no one would believe that he willingly accepted to put up with teens, in his free time. The call had come late into the night. The Sheriff’s department having the audacity of asking if he could house a troubled teen for a few nights. Of course, he said yes instantly, because he was just that great of a guy.

"Are you nuts? First calling so late at night and then asking me something like this? Who am I, mother Teresa?" A deep suffering sigh drifted through the receiver. Sheriff Stilinski was too old for this. "Look Mr. Finstock we don’t have any other options at our hands, at such a short notice and you have the trust building certificate for troubled teens." Damn, Bobby knew this would come to haunt him some day. Back then it seemed like a good way to skip school, for the seminar, for a week- well… that turned out great! After what felt like hours of a snarky Phone battle, Finstock caved. "Alright bring them over." The annoying shrill of his door bell tore through the divine quiet, reigning over his small house. Bobby sighed once more, putting his head in his hands he lowly chanted to himself:" You're a responsible adult! You can do this!" He taught those little sacks of hormones each day, taking care of a teen at home couldn't be that much harder, right!? He opened the door. Well, scratch the last thought: Before him stood ___, his most stubborn and defensive student. Her emotional stability was always up for debate. Perfectly civil in one moment, ‘don’t speak to me or I’ll count your intestines’ in the other. Plus he still hadn't forgotten her crying over her B, in econ for heaven’s sake! She didn't seem too happy with the arrangement either, or the glaring-making the girl from the exorcist seem cute in comparison- was just her way of saying hello. Sheriff Stilistiki watched the starring battle taking place on the front porch. Somehow he questioned if this really was a solid plan. Finstock needed protection and ___ needed a home, for Christ’s sake, the girl slept in the woods and refused help from anybody. So making her Finstocks bodyguard would kill two birds with one stone. Although seeing these two looking at each other, he was questioning if he should have brought chalk along, for the outline of one…, perhaps two bodies. ‘Just roll with it and see what happens.’ He shoved the girl over the threshold- forceful nurturing pedagogy was in vogue these days- and unloaded a stack of paperwork in Robert Finstock’s arms. "I need these signed by you and..." here he leaned in "please keep an eye on her... she's prone to wandering off." Then the Sheriff scurried off in the fastest possible way that still his dignity as law enforcer allowed. Both victims staring after him with a similar mindset: ‘My hero!’.

And that was how Bobby’s Friday night suddenly blessed him with the presence of a teenager, he was supposed to take care of. The awkward silence stretching over the unvacuumed floor was truly unnerving. ‘Come on Bobby, give her a chance, be the bigger man.’

"So I'm not actually sure what to, ..." a sudden cheering erupted from the television. Great now he missed a goal! But his newly acquired charge seemed to perk up at the sound. "You're watching the World Cup?" "Yeah I'm a coach, so not a long stretch from lacrosse to soccer." For a few seconds she regarded him with an unreadable expression and then nodded to herself, flopped down on his couch and watched the game. Bobby had the sudden feeling he had passed some kind of test... That was his freaking home! He should be the one to test her! Right!? Shrugging he entered the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"

"Yeah a whiskey would be great." When the man whipped his head around, a reprimanding speech already on his lips, the girl threw him a cocky grin over the couch. "Relax Coach, just a joke. Anything is fine." This would be one, hella long week! "Damn it, pass the ball, you bastard!" "That's what you call dribbling? My ma can do better than that!" Two voices competing with the sport reporter’s, were the only thing filling the darkened house for the next two hours. The final seconds ticked, number 21 passed to 10, who stretched his foot and... "GOAL!" Four arms flew into the air as the pair howled. The blue glow of the TV painting shadows on their excited faces. "YES! That means we're in the next round!" The excitement still lingered in ___’s voice. Bobby grinned "Damn right, these croissant lovers don't stand a chance!”

When the rush of victory ebbed away, some of the awkwardness crept back to take its place. "I suppose I should show you to your room then..." "Yeah, that would be... a good idea." The rays of the dawning of a new day illuminated Finstocks room and greeted him with a soft caress on his face. "Motha fuckin' light… „Was the only greeting grumbled back. He stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen. Everything was as it had been: Half eaten back of chips: Check; Decaying fruit- so his mother, visiting him last week, couldn't screech at his unhealthy life style: Check; Teen looking like the living dead, chewing on something: Check. Wait, what?

Ah, now that explained why he was in a worse mood than usual, and his brain already asked if 9 pm was an appropriate time to start with drinking. "What are you even eating there? I don't remember having anything remotely looking like nourishment in my freezer?" He poured himself from the already brewing coffee-at least she had a grasp on the most basic survival skills. The girl in question shrugged and answered around a mouthful of, only god knew what: "There was some toast. Most of it had mold all over it, but this one seemed alright."

"Jesus, spit that out! What is wrong with you?" The old glare was finally back, and she resumed munching aggravating slowly, making it a point to swallow audibly- and here he thought they had made progress. "Kid, I don't want the Sheriff on my ass, because you died due to some biological hazard in my fridge! So let's get dressed." ‘That,... probably wasn't the best idea.’ Bobby thought as the waitress taking their order started gushing: "It's so cute to see a father treating his daughter to a big breakfast." He watched the teen eye the sunshine of a woman with distrust in her eyes and... was she sniffing her!? What was wrong with that kid? When their orders finally arrived, ___ went at it with gusto: Almost inhaling a whole stack of pancakes, at once. "What is up with you eating everything put before you, like a vacuum cleaner?" At this, the kid faced him and said. "Well you get used to just grabbing what you can when you live outdoors." "Outdoors?" Now he was concerned. That was a reason to be concerned, right? "Yeah I mostly just crash in the woods at night. It's kind of nice there." Coach Finstock’s brain had to take a few seconds to reboot. When the system was running again he leaned in and for the first time wore something that sure felt like a ‘responsible caretaker expression’: "You can't tell me that you lived in the WOODS, since you started at the school this year? That's dangerous! And where do you shower?" "It's not that bad... campers do it all the time and I just sneak into my friends home to shower." At this she grinned "Stiles almost fell down the stairs in shock, when he finally caught me."

What was he going to do with that girl? He couldn't even handle a normal teenager, but this... he wasn't the right one for this. Bobby was sure someone was required here, who was good with that ‘touchy-feely-let's-talk-about-it-stuff’. After they left the dinner, a small mumbled thanks almost made him stop in his tracks. "What for?" "For not asking more about my family." Everyone in Beacon High would testify to their Coach not having a slither of compassion: He was the trainer of warriors, proud Spartans, but here he felt the small admission tugging at his heart strings. "Sure thing." He tried to sound nonchalant. It wasn't as bad as he initially thought it would be. It was kind of like having a German shepherd, with the kid’s demeanor: Sniffing the air, or her general protectiveness, no one could blame him for making that comparison. While buying groceries- Bobby didn’t need a repeat of the ‘toast incident’- the girl even tackled a guy to the ground, who simply bumped shoulders with him. For that he set her straight in front of the whole store. Now, if he just could get her to show such a tackle on the Lacrosse field- but it probably wouldn’t fasten his stance, mentioning it now. The poor tackled fella had run straight out of the shop.

Then there was the incident with the mail. Finstock opened the door in order to accept the package and in an instant ___ was next to him. Mustering the mail guy and doing that weird sniffing thing again. He had never seen a postman be on his way so fast. That was it! "Now look here Buster! If I wanted a freaking dog, I would have bought one! So, what's your deal with attacking random strangers and scaring away the postman?" Her eyebrows rose in question:" Buster?" Two could play that game. "Why, you prefer Lassie?" She huffed and crossed her arms. "Just looking out for you coach! There are strange people in Beacon Hills." Now that was just cute: One day with him, and she already attacked strangers. He wondered what would happen after a week. You were beat. First a guy had walked into Finstock. Not unusual but you smelled it, before you saw the long clawed hands making a grab for Coaches throat. Your body had acted, before any coherent thought could be formed. You barreled straight into the skin changer. Both of you skidding into the row of baking goods. Scrambling up, a cloud of flour wavering over the ground, you felt the wolf fight for control. ‘Not here, what if you go nuts and hurt somebody?’ The ‘skin thing’ saw his chance in your hesitation and bailed. 'Prey! Hunt it!' The beast inside growled. Before you could come to any kind of decision, Coach had moved into your line of sight and started a hollering fest, right then and there. The vein on his forehead, becoming more prominent with each shout. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Scott used exactly this moment to be flung against the store’s window, sliding down slowly, so before Finstock could turn at the sound, you had to grasp his attention anew: "I'm... eh..." Now Derek Hale joined the fight, proud and erect he stood his ground- and two seconds later he joined Scott in an undignified heap, on the sidewalk. "I'm having anger management issues! “ The man before you sported a confused look, regarding your smaller than normal frame, but than his eyes settled on the place you had barreled head first into the mountain of a guy. "Great... anything else you wanna share?" "Well..." "THAT WAS A RETHORICAL QUESTION!" So here we go again: While coach was at it, your unwanted house guest raised its head. 'Can we kill him now?' So you made it out of the grocery store with maximal embarrassment, and empty hands skin-changer wise: So that had been a productive day! Two hours later the mail showed up and something smelled fishy about the guy, so you stood behind Coach threatening. It turned out that the mail guy just forgot to use body spray... ugh. At the end of the day you were exhausted lounging on the couch. Your eyelids were getting heavier, until darkness engulfed you. The slow, almost silent creaking of a door, footsteps inching closer to the stairwell were the only harbingers of the intrusion. Your bleary eyes opened to blackness, where were you? Tap, tap. Ah, at Coach's. You felt a warm fabric tucked around you, he must have thrown a blanket over you. A rare smile graced your face. Tap, Tap. Wait what was that? You strained your ears. The creaking of the staircase. ‘Coach?’ No, far too heavy. The metallic ring of clawed hands grabbing the doorknob to Finstock's room send you barreling from the couch. In three strides you were up the staircase and grabbed the skin-changer. Both of you struggled. There was no way you could beat that thing. Strong hands crushed your arms. So in a desperate attempt to get it away from the room, you grabbed the not quite right face of the creature and plunged yourself down the stairs, pulling it along. The weight of your bodies making a hollow sound, with each stair’s stinging impact. Claws scratched at your face. You fought back with everything but the thing was gaining the upper hand easily!

"I swear to god, if this isn't super important I'm going to degrade you in school... or something!“ With a flick the lights overhead flared to live, illuminating you fighting the mountain of a guy. "What the HELL! Leave her alone!" Finstock hastily made his way downstairs. 'Let me out' the wolf screams resonated inside your very bones. 'I'll kill it!'

Deadly scratches and punches flew through the air. You felt it pushing you back into the direction of Coach. With one strong whip it sent you flying across the room like a rag doll, crashing into the TV. "You son of a bitch!" Finstock screamed and swung his fist. The skin-changer made a cackling sound that was anything but human. The not man caught the humans fist with ease and grabbed his neck. Squeezing. Waking from your stupor, to the sound of Coach gasping for air, wheezing and struggling you pleaded "Please don't hurt Coach!" The thing with a shape only mocking a human laughed at your cries for mercy. "You think pleading will deter me from killing my trophy, you foolish girl?" It mocked. Your head whipped up revealing a set of blazing yellow eyes, piercing through the darkened room. "I wasn't talking to you!" With an impossible lunge you and the monster flew into the wall. Bobby Finstock tumbled down, gasping for air. Your strikes were fast as lightning, your senses in overdrive: Smelling an incoming punch, hearing the shifting in the stance of your opponent and the increasing rustling of his lungs.

When the spinning room started to slow down Bobby startled at the crash of his front door being broken down. A brigade of teenagers as well as adults stormed in. With his hazy vision he could make out Scott McCall, Sheriff Stilinski, the Deputy-what’s-his-name and the two Hale brothers. The sounds of fighting and screaming cut through the cotton laced around his consciousness. The kid! He tried to scramble back up but two sets of hands held him down. “Let me go dammit!” The scared faces of his students, Stiles- the bane of his existence- and Lydia Martin, the smarty pants, hovered near him. “Coach, everything is going to be alright. The others are helping ___.” The girl knew how to calm someone down. “Yeah, she’s going to be alright… probably.” The curse of his teacher life: not so much.

With the splintering sound of his backdoor and the thumping of feet being swallowed by the night, the house was engulfed in a silence once again. However, for Robert Finstock it couldn’t be further from the former peaceful atmosphere. Dread clawed form his gut and grabbed his throat in a vice grip. Once more he had the feeling of being chocked to death. Shoving Lydia and Stiles to the side he scrambled to the kitchen. The kid was slumped against a counter holding her bleeding side, eyes closed in pain. The Sheriff tried to hold him back. “She’s dangerous now.” But he couldn’t care less. He rushed to the girl’s side and was taken aback when she opened one eye, acknowledging his presence. The yellow hue hadn’t been there before had it? He could have sworn her eye color was… He became aware of the Sheriff Stilinski hovering behind him with a shotgun, trained on her.

At this Bobby whirled around, unleashing all the fury of a Coach ascended from the fiery abyss: “What the hell is wrong with you!? Training that thing on a teenager?”

Sheriff Stilinski regarded the man, positioning himself between his gun and the werewolf probably ready to kill him. Every fiber of his body clenched, ready for doing the unthinkable. But he admired the other man’s bravery. “It’s alright Dad. I think we’re good for now.” Stiles piped up behind him, watching the scene unfold over the Sheriff’s shoulder. Father and son exchanged a look and the gun was lowered hesitatingly. There was a triumphant look flashing trough the coaches brown orbs. “What are you waiting for: Call an ambulance! God, you suck at your job!” And with that, the man fell in his esteem once again.

Hazy figures and shades passed around your hazy vision. When you regained some form of lucidity Lydia and Stiles sat next to you holding a makeshift bandage, consisting of Finstock’s favorite Soccer Jersey, to your wound. Deep red stains covered the soft white fabric- boy, Coach would be happy about this. “Hey.” Lydia’s soft voice was a faint, refreshing breeze on a hot summer day. “How are you holding up?” Chuckling let an intense wave of pain wash over you. “Got almost killed by a monster; Destroyed Coach’s house: You know the usual, just peachy.”

“On the bright side: …” She ignored your sarcasm. “You seem to have found your anchor.” At your questioning gaze she rummaged in her pocket and held a small mirror in front of you. Yellow eyes stared back. “I’m… still…?” The old excitement took hold of Stiles again. “One hundred percent werewolf, but still not tearing us to shreds, yes! To think that of all the people Coach would be your anchor.” He threw a look over his shoulder seeing said man approaching with urgency, paramedics in tow, all the while berating them for their ‘slow assed work ethic’. “On the other hand, the two of you are just such lovely and deeply understanding people: So, maybe that’s it.” The punch Stiles received lacked all its usual strength.

Under the sharp eyes of Finstock you were put on a stretcher and carried out. He followed, the at this point really annoyed, medics to the ambulance. “Don’t worry kid. You’ll be alright.” Straining your neck to look at him you replied: “Shame that I’ll miss the match against France.” “What the hell are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed. “No sissing out now! Once your back home, there is no way I’m letting you miss it!” Your eyes widened. “Home?!”

“Well, don’t think I’m going to let you leave, before you paid all those repairs for everything you trashed!” At your groan the scowl, normally coming so easy to his face wavered. “By the way, you irresponsible brat destroyed my TV, so I guess I’ll have to suffer you, while watching it in the hospital!”

#Teen Wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #coach finstock #coach finstock imagine #Coach Finstock x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #lydia martin #lydia x reader #scott mccall #scott x reader #derek hale #greenberg #sheriff stilinski #bobby finstock

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

They Don't Love You Like I Love You 4/? (katlaska) - kamylove

“There is absolutely no factual or metaphorical fucking going on.” Not yet, anyway. Or, Katya and Alaska take the slow train.

It helps Alaska to know she’ll be seeing Katya soon, to know she’ll be able to look into Katya’s eyes with no camera in between, to make sure sure Katya’s as okay as she claims in the days after their phone call. Not that she’s ever known Katya to lie about her mental health; Katya’s more open about it than almost anyone. It’s just that Alaska knows what it’s like to lie to herself.

And Katya hasn’t been dumping her entire psyche on the internet as often lately, so there’s less information to go on.

Alaska turns down the offer of a ride from the airport. Instead, she waits 83 minutes for Katya’s plane to arrive, and buys an iced coffee the way Katya likes it, to take to the gate.

She doesn’t get a chance to hand it over. Katya walks right up to Alaska, pulls her close, and buries her face in Alaska’s neck.

Alaska hugs back, careful not to spill the coffee. “Hey,” she says, and Katya sighs like she’s put down a heavy load.

Are you okay is such an empty question. Alaska says, “Missed you,” instead.

Katya squeezes her tighter and just breathes. Alaska rests her cheek on Katya’s head and they stay that way for a long time, just two gay boys in the sea of travelers that, for these few moments, is passing them by.

<><><>

“I really am okay,” Katya says, as they head to baggage claim. “It’s just nice to have someone who won’t judge me.”

“I judge you for all sorts of things,” Alaska says. “Like that fucking raccoon.”

Katya, waving her drink around in a way that often leads to a big mess, fakes an insulted gasp. Alaska laughs and takes the cup away from her, just in case.

“That fucking raccoon is my best friend!” Katya says. “Don’t insult her, she’ll hear!”

“Is she in your backpack? Is she listening right now?”

“No, but we share a deep, devoted, psychic link.”

“That makes it even more-”

“I lied,” Katya says. She stops without warning in the middle of the concourse, annoying the family behind them.

“What?” Alaska says. Usually she can follow Katya just fine, these days.

Katya looks her in the eye. “I’m a shitty liar. I don’t care who judges me. I just wanted it to be you.”

Alaska feels something warm and unexpected bloom in her chest. Honestly, it hadn’t crossed her mind to question why Katya had called. “I’m glad,” she says. “I’m glad you called and I’m glad I could help.”

Katya smiles at her, and they keep walking.

<><><>

They are, thankfully, not performing that night, so it’s almost the reverse of that first night in Aspen: room service, a couple movies, and Katya falling asleep sooner than either of them expects. Alaska watches her sleep longer than she thinks she should.

In the middle of the night Alaska hears a text notification on her phone, and decides to ignore it. But a few minutes later the phone actually rings and she reaches for it blindly, moving nothing but her arm.

It’s Roxxxy, who must have just arrived, and who sounds wide awake. “Where are you? I went to your room. Are you in there and being rude?”

“I’m in Katya’s,” Alaska says without thinking.

“Really?” Roxxxy says. “You and Katya? You might be skinny bitches, but that’s just hot.”

Katya stirs and throws an arm over Alaska, but Alaska, not wanting to wake her, slips out of bed and into the bathroom.

“It’s not like that,” Alaska says. “She needed a friend. I fell asleep.” It isn’t true; she’d never intended to leave. But she’s not ready to open it up to questioning.

“Okay,” Roxxxy drawls. “So, how many times have you fallen asleep in Katya’s room?”

“Oh, my God,” Alaska groans. “Leave me alone.”

Roxxxy’s still laughing when Alaska hangs up.

<><><>

It’s a short series of shows on the East Coast, just a couple weeks, with most of the All Stars 2 girls. They know each other so well by now that they can just relax and have fun and make people laugh.

Katya can’t even explain to herself what a relief it is to have Alaska there. She loves all the girls, and she’s happy to have them around, too. They keep her busy and entertained. They’re family.

But it’s so nice, and so easy, to have somebody who can keep up with her no matter what, somebody who won’t ask her to slow down or repeat. Their brains spark off each other, like fireworks. If left to their own devices, which happens more and more lately, they’ll take off down a rabbit hole and look up to find hours have passed.

All the Ru girls are smart. Many of them are brilliant. But there aren’t many who are as quick as Alaska.

They rewatch Katya’s episode of Hey Qween together, and Alaska laughs and laughs at how shell-shocked Jonny looks. “You broke him!” she says.

Katya preens. “ADD is my superpower.”

“You can leap 20 topics in a single bound,” Alaska says.

Katya preens some more, but she can’t keep it up. She laughs instead, flailing a bit for effect.

“It’s disturbing how easy it is for me to follow you now,” Alaska says.

“Agreed,” Katya says. “I worry about you.”

“When did I start liking you so much?” Alaska asks.

“I have no idea,” Katya says, “because I am a heartless, hateful bitch. And I’ve never even eaten you out, which is usually what makes me so popular.”

<><><>

Katya: dinosaur

Alaska: bat

Alaska: You are sitting three feet away from me.

Katya: spoilsport

Alaska: harmony

Katya: turnip

Alaska: cowboy

Katya: Czechoslovakian

Katya: eclair

Alaska: jerky

<><><>

Alaska colors in pages from Katya’s coloring book, making them as garish as her imagination can come up with. She likes to practice keeping a straight face when she hands them to Katya, who always pretends to be offended.

“I really question your taste level,” Katya says.

Alaska just gives her another.

<><><>

“So, Miss Alaska,” Alyssa asks her while they’re in line at Starbucks. “Tell me the truth. What is going on with you and Katya?”

“I hate her guts,” Alaska says. “Everyone knows that.”

“All right, all right, if that’s the way you want to play it. But there’s something there.” She points at Alaska’s eyes, and then her own, with two fingers. “I can see it.”

“Well, then, you need to explain to me what that is,” Alaska says, “because I don’t see it.”

Alyssa makes an Alyssa face, but it quickly shifts to something more more mischievous as she says, “She likes you, too, you know.”

Alaska groans. “Will you stop?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Alyssa says. “I can take a hint.”

“Since when?” Alaska asks.

“You shady bitch,” Alyssa says cheerfully.

“If you want drama, you’re going to have to stir it up yourself,” Alaska says. “Try Phi Phi.”

“Ooh,” Alyssa says. “Seriously shady bitch.”

<><><>

“Tell me the truth,” Ginger says quietly, as she and Katya touch up their faces in the same mirror during a show. “I already know you’re sharing rooms.”

“Friends with room sharing benefits?” Katya says.

“Is that the only benefit?”

“Is having access to her wig wardrobe a benefit?”

“You tell me,” Ginger says.

“Honey,” Katya says. “Look at this tragic thing I am wearing.” It’s intentionally ugly, to go with the rest of her look, and she twirls to show it off. “What do you think?”

“Tell me you don’t have a fetish for those long, blond locks?” Ginger asks suspiciously.

“Is not fetish,” Katya says in her Russian accent. “Is obsession. Why you cannot keep straight?”

“Ain’t nothing straight about that,” Ginger says.

<><><>

Alaska: pogo stick

Katya: You’re sitting three feet away from me.

Katya: cactus

Katya: fossil

Alaska: artichoke

Alaska: talent

Katya: Alaska

Alaska: That’s cheating.

“What the fuck are they doing now?” Detox asks.

Tatianna says, “I don’t even want to know.”

<><><>

After the tour, half of the girls, including Katya, are off to Europe for a month, and the rest, including Alaska, go their separate ways.

Alaska has a week in LA and too many things to squeeze in: meetings, interviews, a recording session, dry cleaning. But Willam talks her into going out by saying, “Support your local queens,” which Alaska can never resist.

Standing there, cranberry juice in hand, sighing the occasional autograph as Willam flirts with everyone in a twenty-foot radius, Alaska has trouble keeping her mind on the show. The drag is good, and she claps and cheers and tips, but she reluctantly admits to herself that it’s not where she wants to be.

She’s home so rarely now that she feels out of touch. But she doesn’t think that’s the real problem.

“What’s with you?” Willam asks eventually. “You’re a real downer tonight.”

Alaska just shrugs.

“It’s not right, working as much as you do. You need to say fuck it sometimes.”

“Fuck it,” Alaska says.

“Weren’t you seeing a guy?” Willam says. “The one with the glasses? He was hot. I would have done him.”

“That was months ago,” Alaska says. “I don’t know. He was nice, but he couldn’t hold my attention, you know?”

“Been there, done that,” Willam says.

(A long time later, Katya will say, “You’ve held my attention for at least .09 seconds, which is impressive considering my average is .03,” and Alaska will say, “I’m three times more interesting than average!” and Katya will look at her like she’s an idiot and say, “Duh. Everybody knows that.”)

<><><>

Alaska stays just long enough after the show to say nice things to all the performers, and to demand that Willam give her phone back. (“Be in the moment,” Willam had said. Alaska had rolled her eyes.) She’s performed here many times; she knows where all the exits are, so she sneaks out while Willam’s not looking.

When she turns the phone back on, on the way to her car, she finds just two texts from Katya, which is a surprise.

“Bored. Lonely. Bored,” says the first, and “Need constant entertainment,” says the second.

Alaska facetimes her, and finds Katya just waking up, her hair sticking out in all directions.

“You need a constant audience,” Alaska says.

“That too!” Katya says, pointing her finger at the screen like Alaska’s said something earth shattering.

“Trade?” Alaska asks.

Katya makes a face. “Not that kind of audience,” she says. “Or that kind of lonely.”

Alaska knows exactly what she means.

#alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #katlaska #fluff #slow burn #they don't love you like i love you #rpdr fanfiction #kamylove #tdlylily

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misssophiachase · 6 years

Note

Can I request KC + any cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie. Any of them.

Thank you!!! Awesomeprompt. For some reason it’s not so mini, so sorry for the delay. Okay, I’ll admit that I took some liberties, I mean there are way toomany to choose from so this is a different spin. I think I kind of morphed intoa Hallmark movie writer with all this cheese and fluff, hope you still like it!

Not Another Hallmark Movie

“I’ve worked with animalsthat are better behaved and trained than you, Mikaelson,” she hissed.

“Only because they can’ttalk. If they could I’m sure they’d have some pretty choice things to sayabout such a Princess, Forbes,” he shot back.

“Cut!”

“You are such an…”

“Well, you’re no picnicyourself sweetheart.”

“I said Cut!” TheirDirector, Enzo St John, growled. “You don’t get creative license,children. This is a bloody Hallmark movie and you will do it as I say. So, justfor your information, the lines actually were, I love you Jacob. I think Ialways have but I’ve been hurt before and Christmas is such a difficult timefor me after losing my father.”

“And then Jacob says,”Bonnie Bennet, their long suffering producer, added through grittedteeth. “I would never hurt you Grace and if you let me in, let me love youthen I can prove that to you everyday of our lives.”

“I much prefer my line,”Klaus shrugged his shoulders, unmoved by their terse interruptions.

“As I do mine,” Carolineagreed, arms crossed over her chest. Agreeing was something the two actorsnever did, just ask the rest of the cast and crew. They’d been bickering eversince their first day on set and things didn’t seem to beimproving.

“How about we take abreak,” Enzo sighed. “We’ll pick up in twenty minutes and maybe you twocan learn your bloody lines.” The crew scurried away, no doubt to enjoy somedowntime from all the drama.

Klaus made his way to hisdressing room, slamming the door shut in the process. Who was Enzo St John totell him what to do and how to do it? He remembered the second worse decisionhe’d ever made so clearly. If he could have blamed it on alcohol he would havebut this was all her doing.

“Hallmark? Ah, no Lucien.”

“You didn’t even let mefinish…”

“Because you used the Hword,” he muttered. “I thought we spoke about having that networkexorcised from any future contracts.”

“You need this role Klaus,if anything just to get you back on your feet,” he pleaded. “The roleshave dried up since…”

“I don’t need you to tellme that,” he growled, finally stopping his pacing. “But there must besomething else, something on HBO? I saw they’d green lit a pilotabout the Clash.”

“The Joe Strummer role hasalready been cast.”

“Oh don’t tell me, it’sthat talentless idiot, Tyler Lockwood?”

“No, it’s…”

“Well, don’t keep mehanging, Lucien. You know, I’m a big boy, I can handle the truth.”

“Stefan Slavatore,” hemumbled, his brown eyes now firmly focused on the floor.

“The brooding, James Deanwannabe? He’s not even English and is definitely more boy band than punk. Anddon’t even get me started on his obsession with his hair. Could that guy ownany more hair products?”

“That’s probably why hehas that lucrative endorsement deal with L’oreal.”

“I bet his mother is soproud,” he groaned. “Why do talentless and undeserving losers like thatget the good roles?”

“You’ve been out of thegame for a bit, people tend to move on after you pass on roles,” he offered,albeit weakly. “You experienced a monumental loss and it’s understandablethat you needed some time out but…”

“You’re even starting tosound like a bloody Hallmark movie now.”

“It’s your only chance totry to resurrect your career Klaus, trust me on this.” Klaus was silent,thinking about his options.

Not that Klaus liked toadmit it readily but Lucien was right. But was his career more importantthan his pride? Klaus knew the answer and prepared his response carefully. Hallmarkand their latest Christmas cheese-fest could go fuck themselves. “The female part is being played by Caroline Forbes. She’s a verytalented and versatile actress. Actually grew up in the same town as you, Imean what a coincidence.”

That Klaus wasn’texpecting and he felt his chest constrict and an immediate craving to be closerto her again, if so just to try and make things right. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

It seemed as if Klaus hadcome full circle his worst ever mistake crashing into his second worst. She was just as flawless as he remembered when they met for rehearsals amonth earlier. Even with that scowl plastered firmly on her face, Klaus didn’tthink he’d seen anyone so beautiful. Even her latest insults couldn’t deter hisadmiration. If Klaus could do things differently, he would have.

“Now, that would have tobe your best tantrum by far.”

“If I wanted an audience,little sister, I would have chosen one a lot less sarcastic and hostile.”

“You’re not going to findone, Klaus,” she insisted. “Especially if you keep acting out this way. Noone will ever hire you again.”

“Always the publicist,” hedrawled, rolling his eyes for extra effect. “Did you ever think that maybeI don’t care?”

“And what about Caroline?”His eyes flew to hers, Rebekah always had a tendency to push his buttons andtoday was no exception. Caroline had pursued a modelling career but hadrecently excelled in a few cameo roles. “This is her first leading movie role,do you want to ruin it with such childish behaviour?”

“I’m pretty sure Hallmarkwill do that all on its own,” he joked. “Look, I realise Caroline is oneof your clients but that doesn’t mean you can use our sibling status to guilttrip me into staying. I’m sure that they can recast me with some bland, kendoll type. Maybe the gods are smiling on us and Stefan Salvatore is actuallyfree?”

“No one has chemistry likeyou and Caroline, trust me we’ve all seen it.”

“That was a long timeago.”

“Really? Because from thatforeplay I just saw out there, your connection is stronger thanever.”

Klaus knew it too, notthat he was willing to admit it aloud and to his sister and publicist of allpeople. He loved her, Klaus had never stopped. Suddenly he felt like he’dstepped into some weird, Hallmark vortex.

“Yes, those insults werereally romantic.”

“I know you miss her, weall do” she implored, her hands finding his. Klaus knew they weren’t talkingabout Caroline anymore. “But that’s no reason to throw away your career orCaroline in the process.”

Klaus knew she was right, hedidn’t speak, just squeezed her hands affectionately before making his waytowards her dressing room purposefully.

“If you’re here for roundtwo, I’m not interested,” Caroline scoffed before he could get a word in. Shewas seated at her dressing table and regarding him suspiciously in thereflection of the mirror.

“I don’t know,” he smiled,thinking just how much he’d missed their lively banter. “I thought we’dclocked up at least twenty rounds by now.”

“And to be honest, I’mtired of it,” she sighed, closing those blue eyes momentarily. Klaus knewexactly what she was doing.

After making love they’dlie naked together in the moonlit filled room, their limbs entwined and Klauswould recite all the reasons he loved her. Her creamy skin, her golden waves,her melodic laugh and ability to render him completely useless were frequentmentions but his favourite, he’d say, were her eyes. They were the windows toher soul, he’d say, and Klaus used to murmur that as long as she kept her eyesopen everything would be okay.

“Open your eyes, love,” hemurmured, making his way towards her dressing table and running a hand alongher cheek slowly.

“You don’t deserve that,”she whispered, a single tear making its way down her cheek. “You don’tdeserve me.”

“I don’t,” heagreed. “I lost that right after…” Her eyes flew open as she pushed awayhis hand.

“After you walked out onme,” she sobbed, standing shakily and increasing the distance between them. Shewas wearing a thin dressing gown and Klaus could make out the lace accents ofher underwear and the way they strained against the swell of herbreast.

“I didn’t want to hurtyou..”

“Yet you did exactly that!How long have we known each other Klaus? Twenty years now? We climbed treestogether when we were eight. You took me to my prom senior year and cheered meon at my college graduation. God, we dated for three years but even after wemoved our separate ways for career opportunities we were still close. You wouldcall me whenever Lord of the Rings was on TV because you knew I hated itand recited the dialogue verbatim, then you’d berate the latest tabloid storiesabout my love life because you were the only guy that was worthy of my timeapparently. I can recall so many conversations, so many life events with you presentand that was the thanks I got for being such a loyal friend?”

“I wasn’t in the righthead space that night Caroline, my mother had just died,” he explained. “Iwas spiralling out of control and had been drinking.”

“I wanted to be there foryou the night of her funeral, to support you in your time of need.”

“And I took advantage ofthat,” he murmured, remembering it like it was yesterday.

He’d woken, unsure of hissurroundings at first but then he felt her against his chest. He would neverforget the rhythmic and even sound of her breathing or the fact the thesunlight spilling into the room was highlighting the golden flecks in her hair.She looked like an angel.

He left hurriedly,throwing on his clothes and racing from the hotel room. Klaus knew it wascowardly but having to face her and explain the previous night and hisscrambled emotions was too much after burying his mother yesterday.

As the months passed,Klaus began to miss her name on his caller ID and almost hit the call button amillion times, if only just to hear the sound of her melodic laugh telling himhe was an idiot. But he never called and it was the biggest regret afterleaving her that morning without a goodbye.

“I’d rather not revisitmemory lane,” she said, breaking Klaus from his dream-like trance. “But Iam curious, why are you doing this film? I mean you break out inhives when you even hear the word Hallmark.”

“It was all for you,love.”

“Oh, if that’s a line, I’mso not interested in hearing anything more Mikaelson…”

“It’s not,” he persisted,making his way towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders gently.

Her blue eyes were widenow and Klaus could see that the anger and hostility he’d seen for weeks hadsince been replaced by curiosity and that raw vulnerability he loved so much.He knew there was a brief window, If only he could just explain himselfarticulately. Her vanilla scent was putting him off somewhat, so too her closeproximity. “I needed to be here, I needed to make things right after Iroyally stuffed them up.”

“That’s certainly anunderstatement,” she growled.

“I was scared,” headmitted, fastening a lock of hair behind her ear. “When Esther passed away sosuddenly it knocked me around so much. She was the most important and biggestpresence in my life. That morning when I woke up and saw you lying next to me Iwas so frightened it hurt. The thought of ever losing you, like her, was toomuch to comprehend in my emotional state.” She was silent for a momentobviously processing what he was saying.

“But you walked out onme.”

“I figured that if youweren’t in my life I couldn’t lose you. I know it’s not an excuse but you arethe only woman I’ve ever loved and even if you weren’t in my life I could stillwatch you from afar and it would be okay.”

“But yet you show up onthe set of a Hallmark movie.”

“Obviously that poorlythought rationale didn’t last too long. I was desperate, I wanted you backeven if it was a long shot.” She cocked her left eyebrow curiously, a slightsmile tugging at her lips.

“Do I have this right? You signed up for a Hallmark movie for me?”

“Desperate times and allthat,” he smirked. “Please tell me my efforts haven’t been completelywasted?”

“I’ll tell you what’s beencompletely wasted,” she said, her hands finding their way to his hips andpulling him closer. “Your talents.”

“Huh?”

“Your talents are wastedin this kind of film and we both know it,” she mused. “So, what I want youto do is march out there and tell Enzo you’re quitting.” Obviously she didn’twant to see him again but Klaus couldn’t blame her.

“Do you really hate me thatmuch?”

“I don’t unfortunately,”she teased. “You need to snap out of this funk. Esther wouldn’t want this for you and we both know it. You need to get back tothe roles that made you who you are and you need to stop stalking me too.As much as I appreciate the explanation, you are sounding more like a Hallmarkmovie everyday and I can’t have that.”

“What roles? There are none.”

“I heard about the ClashHBO series, that would be a good start.”

“ApparentlyStefan Salvatore has already been cast,” he groaned, hating the fact he even had to say his name aloud.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,Mikaelson,” she grinned knowingly. “You just need to have a little faithin yourself and your craft.”

“So, if I do all of that,do you think there’s any chance you might ever forgive me for being…”

“The biggest ass in theworld? I’ll think about it,” she smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his nose.Klaus melted into her embrace, not wanting to let go but also glad she’d heardhim out and was willing to consider a future, whatever that might be.

“So, before I go and annoyEnzo, Rebekah and my manager I have one question myself.” She didn’t respondjust raised her eyebrows in preparation. “Why did you take this role? Imean it’s not really your thing either.”

“I already have amodelling career, acting is a hobby right now, but it doesn’t hurt that there’sat least a dozen scripts sitting there for my perusal.”

Klaus looked over at the table,noticing the large volumes of paper for the first time. From this distance he could seethe title Oceans Eight on one of them. He wasn’t sureif it was related to the Soderbergh box office hits but if it was CarolineForbes was going to be a big star.

“And I’ll be therewatching your career unfold from afar, love.” He was gone before she couldrespond. His spirits buoyed and his heart open for the first time in over a year, telling him they’d meet again some day.

So, their ending wasn’t aHallmark one, well not that day anyway. Fast forward two years and Klaus wasstarring in the latest Scorcese film, Caroline in Spielberg.

“So, where can a girl geta drink around here?” He’d know that melodic voice anywhere, his crimson lips curving into a smile.

“I might be able to help you with that.” She sat at the neighbouring barstool her leg grazing his briefly and causing all the familiar feelings to resurface. He said he’d wait and Klaus was hoping she was finally collecting.

“Which is exactly why I came to see you,” she smiled. “We have a lot to talk about, Mikaelson.”

Turns out they did. Exactly three months later the two childhood best friends were married and happened to live happily ever after, just like in fairytale or a really cheesy Hallmark movie.

#not another hallmark movie #klaroline drabbles #misssophiachase #thanks for the awesome prompt #lbeartakestheworld

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