#HELL EARTH HELL EARTH HELL EARTH!!!!!!! BURSTS INTO TEARS FOR A MILLION YEARS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gaoau · 2 months

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yes, you do; you're an abominable sinner

theory of the two demons warnings — none word count — 3.7k

prev. — next.

childlike, joyful cackles ring through the hallway as [Name] makes their way to the training room. they're running slightly late and dreading the moment they step into the room to find Dazai pointing a gun at them again. they raise a brow at the unfamiliar laughter, growing louder and louder as they reach the door. they doubt Dazai has it in him to laugh so joyfully. the glowing bruise hugging their spine and shoulders aches with every little move they make, from turning the handle to closing the door behind them.

there's a young child expectantly gazing up at Dazai, who's broodingly leaning against the wall as per usual and doing his best to ignore the little pesky bundle of energy asking to play. exasperated, Dazai sighs in slight relief now that [Name] is here to take this brat off his back. but when he finds their eyes, exasperation morphs into amusement at the loud rage simmering in their scowl. he figured this was an expected reaction, particularly after memorizing their entire history off their files.

it feels like a million shards of broken glass stabbing and invading [Name]'s bloodstream, smoldering as they liquify to burn them from the inside out. tinted with an ugly shade of innocence, they gawk at Q, clearly no older than ten years old, a worn doll tucked between their arms and a bright grin as they press, "i can play with them now, Dazai-san?!"

he ignores the high-pitched call of his name in favor of smirking at his mentee. [Name] stares back at a hollow, bottomless pit of pure darkness. they can hear wails echoing from its depths. and they don't care—not about how desperate Dazai is to burst into tears or how many friends Chuuya has lost or how much murder has stained their palms. "is this who you wanted me to fight today?" they question in a low snarl. the only thing they care about is the fact that Q is still bright.

Dazai's smile is as weightless and feathery as every other day, though today it dances with a faint hint of mockery. "don't underestimate them; they're a walking catastrophe," he warns, soft voice of proper advice. Q bounces over to him, standing in front of him to curiously peer up at [Name]. "i have a few theories i'd like to test out. go on, Q." he gives the kid an encouraging shove, prompting them to start playing.

giggling bubbly to themself, Q approaches their new playmate with a beaming grin. [Name] can't stand the sight of such a young mirror living in the Port Mafia's clutches. they're cautious of the fragile smile organizations like the mafia enjoy wiping clean off the face of the earth. Q knocks their balled fist gently into [Name]'s stomach and they let their guard down in confusion for a moment. they glance up at Dazai before Q pulls their arm back. from underneath their oversized sleeves, blood drips onto the floor.

[Name]'s heart sinks. "hey, what the hell?" they ignore the ache of yesterday's bruises as they drop to their knees, reaching carefully towards Q. they're holding a glass shard, willingly letting its edges dig into their palm. as they laugh gleefully, [Name] tries to pry it out of their hand.

"get ready to use your ability on them," Dazai chimes in.

"huh?"

before [Name] can even hope to register what Dazai could possibly mean, Q takes it upon themself to rip their doll and activate Dogra Magra. [Name]'s vision blurs as they freeze, a dark handprint manifesting on their wrist. Dazai stays out of sight and out of reach in case they mistake him for a hostile hallucination. but the images flashing directly into their retinas have nothing with reigning demons or little angels, the pure and the tainted floating around them, the echoes of falling creatures drowning in ink. all [Name] sees is blinding lights reflecting from their bleeding palms. the same poisoned whisper plays in their ears like a broken record.

childlike laughter bounces off the walls, but [Name] can't hear it. their hands act on their own as they dig their nails into their forearms, ripping through their sleeves and tearing through the skin and drawing blood. i want to die, i want to die, i want to die, i need to die. what hasn't been completed or who hasn't been saved doesn't matter when selfish desire is much stronger than altruism. they crawl and stumble, reaching for shadows that don't exist.

they touch Q instead. as soon as their fingers come into contact with Q's ankle, the handprint vanishes; the hallucinations cease and they regain their senses. Q frowns—they've never had anyone but Dazai counter their ability.

children so young generally take longer to kill than usual, but [Name] doesn't try to harm Q past stealing a small amount of life from them. it's not life they take; an orange glow activates and vanishes within a second. they shrivel into themself, panting and gasping for air, cradling their torn arms to their chest. with blurry vision, they glare at the drops of blood and sweat dripping onto the ground, falling from their face and crying from their eyes. they gulp thickly, wiping the bloody tears off with trembling fingers. their nerves burn under their skin at the influx of energy.

a pondering hum resonates through the room. it takes them a little too long to realize it's Dazai. he's thinking. "do it again, Q."

[Name] gasps at the order, eyes wide in panic. Q doesn't hesitate to do as told. they grasp the glass shard tightly on their unharmed hand before pressing their fist against [Name]'s shoulder. they try to move away before Q gets hurt again, but they only manage to stumble backwards. this time, however, when Q rips their doll, nothing happens.

Q blinks curiously at this rather odd development. they glance up at Dazai in case he's willing to offer an explanation. as [Name] anticipates anything unreal to attack them with bated breath, Dazai counts. he waits.

a beat later, the dark handprint to identify Dogra Magra's curse resurfaces on their bloodied wrist. the orange glow manifests around them and makes them stronger. images and whispers that make [Name] claw at their skin relentlessly, deeper into their flesh so the blinding lights on the ceiling stop flickering so tauntingly. they thrash helplessly, reaching towards Q blindly. Dazai casts a glance at the broken doll. he's already proven both of his theories. he watches in silence as [Name] takes their sweet time in leeching the energy from Q's activated ability.

finally, their fingers brush against Q's face, leaving a smudge of blood on their cheek while they snap back to reality. the handprint fades away. on their hands and knees, they try blinking the blood away from their eyes. Q's slippers come into focus.

Dazai's voice echoes, "good," and [Name] wishes Dogra Magra would make them a haunting hallucination to disappear as well. "that's all i needed. maybe i'll ask Kouyou-san just to make sure…" he scans his bored gaze over his mentee as they gasp and pant to catch their breath. they might be in excruciating pain from the rivers of blood pouring from their arms, but it doesn't keep them from glaring at him so scornfully, so hateful. he hums, "[Name], clean yourself up. give Q a hand, too, while you're at it, yeah?"

both [Name] and Q watch as Dazai exits the room without as much as a single glance at the mess he's leaving behind. once the door closes behind him, [Name] exhales a heavy sigh of relief, letting their shoulders relax while they sit up on their knees. the ache on their forearms starts to slowly settle, burning on the surface of their open wounds. there's still a tingle on their fingers from when they stole Q's lifespan, but it doesn't seem to be as strong as it was with Chuuya.

still out of breath, they lick their dry lips as they gather their bearings. then they notice Q is silently staring at them. they'd been laughing nearly maniacally before, but now they're awfully quiet. their palms are slashed open and bleeding. they're still holding onto that damned glass shard.

"hey! hey!" they start, taking a step closer to [Name], "can we play? can we?"

[Name] looks at their bright, round eyes. they're a kid. they're just a kid. a young kid who shouldn't be here or in a lab or cutting themself up for other people's gain. (they're just a young kid who shouldn't be here, [Name] thinks, but these are thoughts that don't spare Q or whatever happened in history.) fate bleeds through [Name]'s soul, no matter how resistant and resilient they might be. it turns a fragile shade of agony and helplessness.

crawling closer, they try not to scowl at the walking catastrophe, because it's not their fault at all that [Name] is so angry. "are you okay, kiddo?" they steal the glass shard from them, using Mirror Mirage to crush it into dust without leaving any more scratches on themself. gently, they grab onto Q's wrists, shifting their hands to face up and assess the damage. it makes their blood boil. "these cuts are bad, we should clean them up."

"are we gonna play after?! please?" an excited glimmer lights up Q's eyes—a child's spark lights up the night.

although panting softly, [Name] manages the kindest of simpers, huffing a chuckle. "yeah, sure," they answer and an endearing grin blooms on Q's face instantly. "let's fix this first, though." they get back on their feet, motioning the little kid to follow them. (Q thinks they'll follow [Name] anywhere.)

"okay! i'm Kyuusaku!" they cheer, bouncing excitedly on the balls of their feet. their small fingers snake their way into [Name]'s hand, holding it tightly. their open wound burns and their blood mixes with [Name]'s. "come on, let's go play!" they tug and drag [Name] towards the infirmary; the faster they both get patched up, the sooner they can play, after all.

[Name] laughs to themself, letting Q lead the way. a voice in the back of their head says they should be concerned to know Q seems to be more than familiar with the route to the infirmary in this maze of a building. they ignore it when Q's overjoyed cackles ring through the hallways as they squeeze their hand in excitement. [Name] squeezes back.

Dazai Osamu doesn't believe in anything; not in life, not in death, not in good or evil. he believes humans are so weak they cannot live without a faith to rely on. he scans his eyes over [Name]'s files and finds their faith. it's not loyalty; Mori didn't save them from the ruins of an orphanage. he'd laugh if it wasn't so bitter. when he hands the updated documents to the boss, he glares at him with a gaze that demands confirmation to all his conclusions.

with a chuckle, Mori processes the latest development in Mirror Mirage's training. there seems to be a lot more to it than what those researchers managed to put together. as detailed as the information is, if they had known better than to miss crucial bits like this, they would have tried to keep this little tricky ability under even more surveillance. it's quite the powerful tool. countless organizations around the globe would love to get their hands on it.

"i'll be adding it after this, but," Dazai starts, making Mori hum as he looks up from the papers on his desk, "the nullifying effect lasts around fifteen seconds, which can be quite dangerous if used right. the only issue is that it seems to incapacitate them."

there's always a downside, of course. Mori doesn't expect perfection from anyone, not even from the demon prodigy glowering at him across his office. "they're a better investment than i originally thought, then," is the response he chooses with optimism. it makes Dazai's glare burn a bit stronger.

"you had your eye on them for a while," he states as if it were a matter of fact. it is a matter of fact; he knows this much from what he's gathered so far. mentoring [Name] isn't limited to using them as a punching bag.

Mori stares at Dazai with blank eyes. he takes a second to consider the million results that could come from this interaction depending on his answer. "i did meet them before you. seems they were worth it." he waits for a reaction on Dazai's face. he wonders how quick he is to put two and two together. it's been a year, after all.

"i am curious about that, Mori-san."

"what is it?"

"the attack on the orphanage, the organization we eliminated, the misinformation they acted on," he starts listing off occurrences with the help of his fingers. Dazai stares at Mori with a blank eye. "you know there's no such thing as coincidences on this side of the world."

letting the silence settle for a moment, Mori hums. then he grins. "you're right, Dazai-kun."

Dazai seems surprised for a second at the confession. "what if they find out?" he asks, knowing just how easy it'd be for [Name] to write Mori down on their hitlist. he asks because he can't yet put his finger on what it is this man is scheming.

"i'm not worried about that. they won't find out unless you tell them." Mori shrugs carefreely. he looks Dazai in the eye for a little longer, finding the questions he isn't pressing on. airily, he laughs, "i'll let them be the ace up your sleeve when you put a knife to my throat."

"no way," Dazai chuckles genuinely. he shakes his head, lips curling into an amused grin. "they'd never work with me to take your head—or to do anything, really. they'd rather die."

"well, that doesn't mean much coming from them. i won't be mad if they kill themself, but try your best to avoid it, will you?"

Dazai doesn't believe in anything. Dazai knows [Name] won't slice their own wrists anytime soon. whatever belief he has for them is a lie. "so you did know. is that why you left them to me?" even when knowing this, Mori believes he can save this kid and make him live cleanly, properly.

"i'd like to see where this goes."

the discussion ends there. putting another good word in for their mentee, Dazai relinquishes his position as a mentor. he leaves [Name] to train as an assassin under the one and only King of Assassins deep in the basement. Mori doesn't argue; he trusts Dazai will oversee [Name]'s progress until either one dies and he's making this decision because it's the most profitable. if used right, Mirror Mirage can be an unstoppable weapon. promptly after his report, Dazai exits the office.

Mori watches the door close behind him. he glances at the files on his desk, humming, "i hope it works out for you, Dazai-kun."

Yumeno Kyuusaku doesn't like their name anymore. they did at first, when it was only a cute, fun play gifted to them by the mafia. now that they've gone through hell at Dazai's hand—not to mention the hell that awaits—they hate it. they don't want it anymore. it hurts and they didn't ask for this.

jarring, agonized screams echo through the destroyed training room. blood-curling and nearly deafening, [Name] has never heard anyone wail at the top of their lungs with so much pain in their voice. they want to cover their ears from the horrifying noise. they can't, though; not when Q is clinging onto their shirt with balled fists, trembling in their arms and bawling so loudly. Q buries their face in [Name]'s chest, tear-stained cheeks and bleeding wounds making a mess on their clothes. they sob and shout and hiccup until their throat is sore.

even then, they don't stop. [Name] hugs them closer, wincing at the pain shooting through their body and drilling into their eardrums. they know how painful it is to be a tool for organizations bigger than they can comprehend. Q doesn't deserve this. not the training, the desensitization, the torture, the abuse—whatever name it might have, Q deserves none of this. they cry in the only comfort they can find, and [Name] wants to cry, too. they don't, though; not when it's the last thing Q needs right now.

[Name] can't tell if the blood covering them is theirs or Q's anymore, but they know the open cuts are on Q's arms. they should get those cleaned up sooner rather than later, but when [Name] makes a move to get off the floor, Q grips their shirt tighter. they refuse to let go.

sighing, [Name] listens to them sob and shout and curse, "i'll break him…! i'll break Dazai-san…!" they go in circles. they've been going in circles ever since Dazai (waving his hand dismissively, "do whatever you want.") walked out the door earlier. "i'll break him, i swear i will! i hate him! i'll break Dazai-san, i'll break him…!"

with a tone as gentle as they can muster without shattering, [Name] shushes them, "it's okay, kyuu-chan, i know." they run their fingers through Q's hair, matted with blood and sweat.

"i'll destroy him! i'll burn him down!" Q pounds their fist against [Name]'s chest. it's not [Name] whom they want to hurt, but they know no other outlet that doesn't involve glowing bruises and bleeding out.

"i get it, kyuu-chan. i wouldn't blame you if you destroyed the whole world. i bet you could, huh?"

"i don't want to! it hurts! i don't want this…!"

"i know, kyuu-chan, it's not you—"

"don't call me that!" they snap, pulling away abruptly. the open slashes on their arms burn as the coagulated blood pulls at their skin. [Name] stares at their face. cheeks burning a fierce red, eyes quivering and filled with tears that keep flowing; the face of a child, young and angry, throwing a tantrum over a toy their parents refuse to buy. a bruise on their temple and a scratch on their nose and dried blood on their forehead; the face of a weapon (a walking catastrophe), not a person.

[Name] recognizes this face. it's forever unfading in their mind, whenever they glanced at the mirror wall before going to bed. as Q wails grievances about their cursed name, [Name] can't ignore the lonely kid out of sight, chained up and awaiting death with open arms. they can't hear them and they can't see them, but they know they're there. they don't want Q to end up like that. they don't deserve that—not that [Name] did, either. so they listen.

Q doesn't like their name. [Name] thinks kyuu-chan is a cute nickname. Q hates being called Q or anything similar. it hurts and they didn't ask for any of this. not the hospital beds, the straps, the needles, the experiments, the pain. [Name] didn't ask for any of this. they empathize. Dazai is nothing but a nightmare. it all brings pain because of an ability no one ever wanted. the saying in the Port Mafia goes, the greatest misfortune for Dazai's enemies is that they are Dazai's enemies, but what about the poor fools under his wing?

"hey, hey, it's okay." [Name] holds Q's face to stop their rambling, gently cupping their cheeks and brushing the tears away. they leave a smudge of blood on their skin. they see Q's bottom lip tremble as they bite back their sobs. "i never caught your full name, you know?" and because they're a fool under Dazai's wing, they'll behave just like one, because do whatever you want isn't lenience, but a dare. [Name] knows not to touch what burns, but Q is getting burnt, too, unless they do whatever they want.

there's no such thing as rules here, but [Name] is breaking all of them. Q furrows their brows in a frown, eyes glazed over. for a moment, they don't understand what [Name] is asking. when they let go of their face, they settle down, crumbling against [Name]'s chest once more. they mumble quietly, "…Yumeno… Yumeno Kyuusaku…"

"yu-chan?"

(Dazai tells them, "don't," but they reach for the fire again.)

Q shakes their head. they don't like that, either.

[Name] hums in thought. "yume as in dream?" Q nods this time. "okay, let's see, then. yumekyuu? yumesaku… no, that's so bad, sorry." they hear a faint giggle, bursting through Q's bloodied lips. [Name] breathes easy knowing they're calming down, they're not hurting as much anymore, they're not burning. "menokyuu? yunome…? i'll work on it," they chuckle to themself. Q laughs with them.

it's not much. Q's arms are still littered with open cuts and they're still seething with anger. but they stop crying, sniffling as they nuzzle into [Name]'s filthy shirt, letting them rub their hand up and down their back soothingly. eventually, Q dozes off.

([Name] tells him, "shut up," but they know this pain and it'll never end.)

inside the infirmary, [Name] dismisses their right-hand, "good work today, namiyo-san." namiyo bows and exits, making sure not to disturb her boss after their intensive training with Verlaine.

they open the brown envelope that namiyo came to deliver and pull out a bundle of photographs. flipping through them, [Name] can't hold back the grin tugging at their lips. four kids, each in a different home, but fortunately loved and happy. maria, shion, kentarou, and yuu. they're doing fine now.

the battle isn't over yet.

#theory of the two demons #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yumeno kyusaku #Q #q i love you q #bsd q #mori ougai

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javierpena-inatacvest · 8 months

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Hi besties!!!

So I, like our Osita, am also an elementary school teacher (self indulgent much, I know hahahah) who has to face the reality of the fact my summer vacation is over, and I need to go back to being a real person who goes into work starting tomorrow 😭

I will 100% keep up with writing Never Too Late because I love Javi and Osita more than life itself, but now that I won't be having endless free time just to write all day, every day, chapters may not be coming out as frequently as they have been. I'm still hoping to try and get one out every two-ish weeks, but the beginning of the school year is CRAZY, so if you don't see anything from me for a hot second, I promise I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, I am just out here fighting for my life from the hell of wrangling 8 and 9 year olds all day 😂😂😂

I also just wanted to say, when I first started posting this series in June, I never, ever, EVER in a million years thought that it would turn in to what it has. I had never written a fic before, and decided to post this on a whim, and the overwhelming response has truly made my heart burst at the seams. Your support and kind words have quite literally brought me to tears on numerous occasions, and I can't thank y'all enough for wanting to read my silly lil stories 😭💕🥺

OKAY sappy moment over, forehead kisses to each and every one of you, stay hydrated, support your favorite fic authors, be kind humans LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUU

Also sneak peek to tide you over, Javi and Osita are going to Chicago next chapter to meet her family EEEEKKKKKKK!!!

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jongothebongo · 1 year

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Since the dawn of man fire the oldest fire recorded on Earth has been identified from charcoal in rocks formed during the late Silurian Period, around 420 million years ago and with these discoveries we have form gods from them, but why have we decided to make gods from fore of all things?

Some beliefs from different tribes and cultures show that they would with either bring creation to such as with the first caveman discovering fire they worshiped the sky which granted them fire or destruction with more radical gods such as the greek god Ares who is the god of war in which he bursts into flame merely upon his blade.

These are just the few reasons we were so interested in fire gods as there are so many meanings behind each god of fire as some create life, others bring destruction and suffering and as a group it inspired us to research more into fire gods in which it drove us to create a performance for our very own fire god.

Creating a god:

As a group we decided to create our very own god as we all deemed it is more interesting and creative to come up with our very own god along with the inspiration from other gods

so as a group we researched multiple gods that had interesting backstories or abilities such as Ares who is the god of war he's related to fire as poems describe him as he bursts into flames merely upon is blade or Logi or also known as halogi who is the personification of fire in the norse mythology. Another reason why we decided was out f curiosity as we all have a perception of fire and it would be interesting to see what other cultures thought what fire was to them and see how we could implement that into our own version of a fire god.

Origin for Our God:

write in stone and translated throughout time shaktaan was a warrior with a family to call his own for years he would server his land of cathkaarn protecting all in which he cared for and as he rose through the ranks his wife and daughter would growingly worry for his life as he spend less and less time with the due to him leaving to war, in which one faithful battle as shaktaan led his men into a charge which led to certain doomed with his men falling step by step until he was struck by an arrow collapsing to the ground and in one final attempt he screamed to his god of war arterus wing begging, pleading in his last dying breath to help vanquish his enemies and in return Shaktaan would give him his soul Arterus wing answered Shaktaans call and gave him such power of fire to win the battle an many others to Come however it came at a price which he had paid dearly for. Since that faithful battle Aterus used Shaktaan as hi puppet for for war casting fire and destruction everywhere he stood corrupting his mind twisting his vision, which led him to his very own home filled with rage he murders all in his village under the torment of Aterus and on that faithful day as his rage clears there in his arms lays the corps of his wife and child filled with tears and anger filling Shakarrn he shouts into the sky "MARK MY WORDS ATERUS I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE" and before another word can be said flames engulf him but not a word has been said as his soul falls to hell however his hate and rage drove him to climb out of the depts of hells and journey to the land where Arterus rules the world of pure chaos. Shaktaan reaches Arterus and a grand fight takes place that leave Arterus defeated, shaktaan takes Arterus head as a reminder of his revenge but Aterus head starts to glow and his powers transfer to Shaktaan giving the powers of Aterus of a god, a god of war in which only fire and hatred can lay due to the rage Shaken feels for his actions.

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mizunetzu · 3 years

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iwaizumi finding out hes gay and having an extreme gay panic when they get their new manager in aoba johsai and the team teases him to hell and back for it (iwaizumi x male manager!)

Nice to see you again, boke saiikai~~ also look at iwa freak out in this gif AHAHAHA

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Iwaizumi x reader - Iwa-chan, Panic!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Iwaizumi lazily scratched the itch on his stomach, not caring that his shirt was slightly lifted up and people could see his stomach if they looked. Eh, it’s not like people were around anyways.

He was already running late to practice, so he might as well reserve his energy and take a detour to the gym. It’s not like anything important was happening anyways.

“Yo.” Iwaizumi yawned, pushing the door to the gymnasium open. He slipped through, only now realizing that no one answered his greeting. He also noticed everyone was gathered into a loose semi-circle, apparently looking at something Iwaizumi couldn’t quite make out.

“What's...goin’ on guys?” Iwaizumi neared the huddle of Seijoh volleyball players. Matsukawa turned around, seemingly the only one who heard Iwaizumi in the first place. Mattsun nudged his head towards the middle of the circle, the clearing, where someone was standing.

“New manager.”

Iwaizumi’s ears perked up. Oikawa was complaining about ‘having at least one manager before he graduates’ but also ‘one that’s not one of my fangirls, because they wouldn’t take good care of the team.’ As insensitive as it sounded, having a manager drool and follow Oikawa for the majority of practice instead of doing their job does sound pretty frustrating. Iwaizumi scratched his head.

“Don’t tell me Shittykawa finally found a girl who doesn’t fawn over him.”

Matsukawa shook his head.

“Not girl.” He pointed to the boy standing there awkwardly, moving out of the way slightly so Iwaizumi could see. “It’s a boy.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes trailed from his feet, up to his firm-looking torso, and trailing around his nice-looking arms and hands. He couldn’t help himself from checking this dude out. Maybe he was just curious as to why this boy joined as a manager and not a player-

Iwaizumi’s eyes finally met the boy's glass-like (e/c) ones. He realized now that as he stared at this boy's mesmerizing eyes, his own (e/c) eyes began to stare back at him. Stare with his eyes growing wide, a cute doe-like expression on his face. But all he could see was his breathtaking, iridescent eyes.

“Uh, earth-to-(L/n)-chan?” Oikawa, who was standing next to ‘(L/n)’, waved his hand in front of his deer-in-the-headlights-face. He visibly jumped, blinking a bit, and turned his head quickly, pretending he was staring at Oikawa the whole time.

However, it wasn’t the same for Iwaizumi. He continued to stare with his mouth parted slightly, absolutely mesmerized by this guy’s handsome face. It seemed so...holdable. Like he wanted to walk up to him and hold his face in his callused hands and just...stand there. Forever. Squishing his cute face in his hands.

Cute? Cute? No. No. No. Not cute. Iwaizumi Hajime was not finding a man cute. No, not in a million years.

So why was his heart pounding in his ears so much?

His heart wouldn’t calm down. His everything wouldn’t calm down. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the new manager boy in front of him, immersing himself in conversation with a blush to shake off the fact he was totally staring back. He couldn’t help but feel confused. For once, he felt jealous of Oikawa. Not because he wanted to be popular or stalked by fangirls or anything, but because this boy’s full attention would be on him, and not Shitty-Crappy-Stupidkawa.

Matsukawa snapped his fingers in front of Iwaizumi’s face, smirking when he threw his head back in surprise with the reddest face he’s ever seen him with. Iwaizumi blinked, blankly, trying to process what just happened, before somehow exploding into a deeper shade of red.

“Are you sick or something?” Matsukawa placed the back of his hand on Iwaizumi’s forehead jokingly. “Oh. Nevermind.”

“Wh...I-I...huh..?”

“You’re just gay.” Matsukawa wiped his hand on his practice shirt. “Super gay. Super highschool level gay. You were totally checking out Manager-kun there.”

Iwaizumi grabbed Matsukawa by the collar, shaking him around in hopes of shaking the truth out of him.

“I-I’m not!”

“First symptom: denial.”

“Shut up-!”

“E-excuse me…?” Iwaizumi stopped dead in his tracks. Matsukawa was one second away from bursting out into cackles at Iwaizumi’s impossibly pale face. They both slowly craned their necks towards the foreign voice. Iwaizumi suddenly forgot how to breathe.

He, ‘Manager-kun’, seemed more utterly breathtaking up close. He was standing right infront of Iwaizumi, looking directly at him with his attractive (e/c) eyes. He didn’t even realize when Matsukawa wormed out of his grasp.

“(L/n)-san, good afternoon.” Matsukawa bowed slightly. “My name’s Matsukawa Issei, by the way. Thank you again for being our manager. We look forward to working with you.”

“Ah...thank you.”

When Matsukawa looked back at Iwaizumi, expecting him to introduce himself, he caught Iwaizumi staring at him with goo-goo eyes and an equally confused, frozen-stiff expression from Manager-kun himself. They stared at each other, one from awkward silence and the other from pure, unadulterated gayness. Matsukawa rolled his eyes.

“Dude!” Matsukawa jabbed Iwaizumi in the side, making him snap out of his trance with a grunt. “Don’t be rude, introduce yourself to Manager-kun!”

Iwaizumi broke into a cold sweat. He turned back to ‘Manager-kun’, attempting to look as cool as possible.

“Y-yo...the name’s Iwaizumi HaJIMe-” Iwaizumi’s voice did not want to be on his side today. The betrayers that were his vocal cords cracked mid sentence, making Iwaizumi cough horrendously in hopes of covering it up. Mattsun looked like he was going to die holding in his laughter.

“Nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-kun,” Manager-kun grasped his hand in his own, and held it for a moment. “My name’s (L/n) (Y/n).”

He, (Y/n), flashed a small, friendly smile, and Iwaizumi was taken. With the way (Y/n) held his hand so tenderly, he could probably faint. He’d rather die than let go. It was so warm, his hands were so warm. God, he felt so soft inside.

“...Y’know, if you aren't feeling well, I can take you to the nurse’s office-”

“No-! It’s-it’s fine! I’m fine!” Iwaizumi sputtered, and he silently whined when (Y/n) pulled his hand back. He stepped back, and gave a small wave.

“That’s good, Iwaizumi-kun. Well, I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone. See you later, Matsukawa-kun. Iwaizumi-kun.” (Y/n) smiled again, and left to introduce himself to another teammate. Once (Y/n) was out of earshot, Matsukawa erupted into a fit of cackles.

“Pfft-ahahahahaha! Dude! Y-you-! Ahahahaha! You need to chill man! At this point everyone’s gonna know you went all-“ Mattsun mimicked Iwaizumi’s wide-eyed expression, bringing his hands together and pretending he was a moe schoolgirl. “Kyaaah! (L/n)-senpai is soooo handsome!”

“SHUUUUUT UPPPPPP!” Iwaizumi started kicking at Matsukawa’s shins and hitting his back, trying to silence his cackles and hope (Y/n) didn’t hear that. Or see the huge red blush on his cheeks.

Oikawa side-eyed Iwaizumi and Matsukawa from the net pole. His hands were still moving on setting up the net for practice, but his eyes were examining the two fellow third years roughhousing with each other. More specifically, the red that engulfed Iwaizumi’s face. Oikawa turned his attention back to the pole.

——

‘Just do it!’

Those three words played on repeat in Iwaizumi’s mind for the past 2 weeks. And they seemed to get louder when Iwaizumi arrived to practice.

‘Just do it, Hajime!’

‘No!’ Iwaizumi thought back to himself, watching as (Y/n) greeted everyone who came through the club room door. He was standing outside, holding a box with supplies stuffed in it. Iwaizumi dreadfully neared the club room.

‘Do it! Now!’

‘No! Fuck no!’

“Ah! Hello again, Iwaizumi-kun-“

“No!” Iwaizumi blurted out. He was quick to cover his mouth, but the look of confusion that knitted (Y/n’s) face was enough to tell he had heard Iwaizumi loud and clear.

“Uh. I mean. Good mor-uh good afternoon, (L/n). Sorry bout’ that.” Iwaizumi trudged into the club room as nonchalantly as he could. But once the door closed, he slumped down to his knees.

“Something wrong, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa mused, slipping on his blue practice shirt over his head. “You look like shit.”

“Y-you’re one to talk, Shittykawa! Go die!”

“Uuu! How mean! Mean Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah yeah.” Iwaizumi hastily slipped into his practice clothes. Oikawa watched his face closely. It was redder than usual.

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi looked up from his knee pads, halting temporarily as he threaded them through his leg. “Mm?”

Oikawa opened his mouth, then glanced to the door where (Y/n) was standing outside of. Not yet. He didn’t have enough evidence yet.

“Never mind.” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely.

——

Iwaizumi slumped down on the steps of the gym, heaving like he ran 13 miles. Well, he did. He watched as everyone came trickling back, Oikawa yelling praise as they all collapsed in front of the gym. Training runs across the block were tough. Especially after an exhausting practice match against each other.

“Good job, everyone!” Oikawa clasped his hands together. “Get some water, go rest, do whatever! We’re gonna do some serving and receiving practices, then we can take a break!”

The tuckered-out team choursed out a “Yessir!” before scattering about and doing their own things. Iwaizumi let his head loll back onto the concrete steps he was sitting on, closing his eyes and catching his unsteady breath.

“Iwaizumi-kun!”

Iwaizumi jolted up harshly, a blush adorning his features as his eyes snapped open. (Y/n) looked down at him with a small white towel in his hand and a water bottle in the other.

“I figured you needed some water or something so-I got you some stuff-!” (Y/n) promptly set the things down on Iwaizumi’s lap, though he’s not sure he noticed with the way he was staring at him so...strangely. Huh, that’s been happening for a while now.

Iwaizumi’s dazed look suddenly dissipated, his consciousness coming back to his eyes as he fumbled for the items slipping from his lap.

“Oh! Thank you...dude…! You’re…you’re...cool...f-for that…!”

Iwaizumi shot finger guns at his (Y/n). His crush. Fucking finger guns. He wouldn’t mind if he took his finger guns and shoved it so far up his a-

“It’s no problem!” (Y/n) shot finger guns back, before flexing an arm and patting his bicep. “It’s what a manager is for! Makin’ sure you boys are alright.”

“I’m gonna go fill up some more water bottles...l stopped and filled one up for you first because you looked thirsty…”

(Y/n) ran off. “See you!” He called from a distance, before disappearing from sight. Iwaizumi waved back with a blank expression on his face.

His legs felt like jelly. Not only because he ran 13 miles non-stop, but because of how whipped he became for manager-kun (Y/n) in the span of only a week or two.

Oikawa hummed to himself knowingly, watching Iwaizumi slump back onto the concrete steps with a hand in his heart.

——

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan!”

“No! No! No!”

“But why?!” Oikawa exasperatedly yelled, dramatically blocking the door leading outside the club room. It was just him, Iwa-chan, Mattsun, and Makki. Makki and Mattsun sat on the floor of the club room like they were expecting Iwaizumi to come in, and from the way they didn’t try to stop Oikawa from blocking the door, they knew the same things he did.

“Let me out shithead!” Iwaizumi clawed at Oikawa’s arms. Oikawa, as twinkish and childish as he seems, was actually stronger than he looked.

Eventually, Iwaizumi stepped back to take a breather. Matsukawa and Hanamaki took that as their chance to secure him, as Hanamaki grabbed Iwaizumi by the torso and wrapped his whole body around him.

He held him as secure as he could while he thrashed around, waiting till Matsukawa hurriedly set up a foldable chair and brought out some rope. Hanamaki dragged Iwaizumi to the chair, ignoring his pleads of “Let me go!” or “Y’all will pay for this-I swear!” As he forcefully sat him down.

He held his hands to the back of the chair as Matsukawa tied him up as quick as he could.

“Oi! What the fuck!” Iwaizumi kicked at Matsukawa as he circled him with the rope.

“It’s for your own good, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa piped up from his spot blocking the door. He didn’t want to move from the door until Iwaizumi was fully immobilized, just in case he tried to run for it.

“Like hell it is-ack!” Matsukawa tightened the rope. “Ease up, will you! God damn!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Matsukawa, in fact, did not ease up. He tied the rope into multiple tight knots, making it virtually impossible to somehow slip out of them. Iwaizumi squirmed around in his restraints as the chair was rotated facing away from the door, and towards Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

Oikawa sighed triumphantly, and backed away from the door. He clasped his hands together.

“So nice of you to finally join our discussion, Iwa-chan.”

“Literally suck my dick then go practice receives on a nearby building and fall to your death.”

Oikawa feigned offense to Iwaizumi’s words. Hanamaki chuckled, while Matsukawa shut Iwaizumi up by tugging at the rope’s end he was holding in his hands.

“Isn’t this illegal? Like-somewhere in the world?”

“It isn’t right now~” Oikawa sung, before becoming laughably serious. “Now! We need some answers!”

“More like you couldn’t contain your curiosity or ask Iwaizumi like a normal person.”

“Makki! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Oikawa blurbed, before coughing and regaining his cool integrator vibe. “Anyways!” Oikawa snapped harshly at Iwaizumi.

“You! Have a! Crush! On Manager-chan!”

Iwaizumi choked on his own spit. He turned away dumbly, with a coy look on his face.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb! We all see the looks you give him! ‘Fess up, Iwa-chan! You’re absolutely totally whipped for (Y/n)-chan!”

Iwaizumi stiffened. “Since when were you two on a first name basis-!”

“See?! You got mad when I called (L/n)-kun by his first name!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Iwaizumi barked. He was starting to sweat now. Were these restraints always so stuffy? “I was just wondering why you called him that!”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out. “Just say you like him we’ll let you go~!”

“Never! No way in hell!”

Oikawa gasped. He pointed dramatically at Iwaizumi. “So you do admit it! You’re totally in love with Manager-kun but you don’t wanna say it!”

“Wh-?!” Iwaizumi sputtered. He kicked around in his restraints, making Matsukawa tug at the rope again. He was thrashing around so much he didn’t hear the door open. “When did I-“

“When did I ever say I had a big ass fuckin’ crush on (L/n) that it made me question my whole sexuality?! But that I couldn’t care less since he’s so...so nice and cute and-fuck!”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki paled. They seemed to be looking at something behind Iwaizumi. Oikawa was still listening intently to Iwaizumi’s confession, not noticing whatever it was those two were staring at.

“Fuck! Fuck! I wanna grab his stupid face and kiss him all over! Fuck! Why is (Y/n) so cute! I wanna call him by his first name too! I wanna hug him and do things boyfriends do too! Fuck! I’m so-“

Oikawa’s eye eventually trailed up from Iwaizumi. He locked eyes with whatever was there, then immediately copied the same panicked ‘we’re dead’ look Hanamaki and Matsukawa had. He looked back at Iwaizumi with a sweaty, pale face.

“H-hey, Iwa-chan, that’s enough-you proved your point-“

“-I’M SO FUCKING GAY FOR (Y/N) IT HURTS!”

The three boys flinched, looking behind Iwaizumi with the same look you’d give when you got caught doing something bad. Iwaizumi was breathing heavily, slouched on his chair after his whole explosion of a confession. He looked at the three third years, who weren’t even looking back at him.

“...what? This is what you guys wanted right? To admit that I like (L/n-“

“I-Iwaizumi, you might wanna shut up…” Hanamaki said, his voice trembly. Matsukawa and Oikawa nodded.

“No! Why are y’all acting so weird! You guys were all up my ass about it, and now you’re telling me to shut up?!”

Matsukawa silently spun his chair around slowly, towards the door so he could see what they were all staring at.

“Honestly, if y’all weren’t expecting me to actually…confess…t-to…yooouuu…”

Iwaizumi’s voice progressively died down as he locked eyes with (Y/n), standing by the door with the reddest shocked face he’d ever seen. It was Iwaizumi’s turn to go pale.

“Uh...I-I heard...screaming...f-from the club room and...and I wanted to see if you guys were ok...um.” (Y/n) awkwardly swung his hands around, before letting them rest behind his back. “So…”

“Do you...really wanna ‘kiss me all over’ and do boyfriend-y stuff together…? With me…?”

Iwaizumi said nothing. He started squirming madly in his binds, trying to look anywhere else but (Y/n).

“Let me out let me out let me out let me out-!“

Iwaizumi only wriggled and kicked harder when (Y/n) started approaching him.

“LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETME-uu-?”

(Y/n) balled up his fists, resting them rigidly on Iwaizumi’s lap as he clumsily pressed a kiss to his lips. His eyes were clamped shut, unlike Iwaizumi’s, who were wide open. He felt (Y/n) push closer, to which he let his body give in and relax, closing his eyes and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Matsukawa wolf-whistled, while Hanamaki yelled things like ‘Get it, Iwaizumi!’. Oikawa smiled triumphantly once more, clapping quietly. “Bravo! Yay Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes were half-lidded as began to pull away. He let out a shaky sigh, watching Iwaizumi take breathless breaths in. Oikawa was still clapping in the background.

“Yay! Yaaaay Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan is happy and I fulfilled my promise! (L/n) will be Manager-kun for forever!”

Iwaizumi snapped out of his dazed trance to glare at Oikawa in confusion. “Huh?”

“Ara?” Oikawa tilted his head. (Y/n) caught on, and started violently shaking his head ‘no’, as well as flailing his arms around trying to shut him up.

“You don’t know why (L/n)-kun decided to join the club?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. (Y/n) whimpered slightly and covered his face in his hands.

“I told (L/n)-kun that if he became our manager, I’d find a way to get you to fall in looove with him. But it looks like I didn’t need to do anything~”

Oikawa chuckled. “He really only joined for you, y’know. When I went up to talk to him about being a manager, his eyes lit up and he said, and I quote: ‘I’ll do it if you set me up with your friend Iwaizumi-kun and get him to fall for me-! Kyaaa! Iwaizumi-kun is so tall dark and handsom-ow!”

Oikawa was abruptly cut off when Iwaizumi kicked him in the leg, as it was the only thing he could reach while he was still tied up. Iwaizumi turned to the side with a blushy pout.

“Y-you’re embarrassing him, idiot.”

“Aww look. He’s enjoying this.” Matsukawa snickered. Hanamaki chuckled as quietly as he could, both trying not to get kicked in the leg like Oikawa did. (Y/n) sank to the floor, defeated.

“Why did you tell Iwaizumi-kun...that’s so embarrassing…” (Y/n) groaned from the ground. He was still covering his face, so he didn’t notice when Matsukawa started untying Iwaizumi, or when Iwaizumi squatted down and placed his hand on top of (Y/n’s) head.

(Y/n) made a noise of surprise as Iwaizumi patted his head with a blushy scowl.

“S’ only fair that I know… I was pretty embarrassed too when you heard all those things I said about you... Eye for an eye and shit…”

(Y/n) said nothing as Iwaizumi continued to pat his head. They said nothing for a while, before Matsukawa silently whispered to Oikawa.

“Wait, if you knew that (L/n)-kun liked Iwaizumi, why did you look so scared when he walked in? You knew they liked each other.”

“Ah.” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head, watching as Iwaizumi and (Y/n) shyly exchanged phone numbers.

“I was scared that Iwa-chan was going to murder me.”

——————

Wanna know what makes my day? When people comment on my fics 💖 especially when they reblog and go crazy in the tags or even say something IN the reblog itself 💖💖💖 makes me feel all warm inside ✨

-Mr. Mizunetzu

#haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwazumi x male reader #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x male reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwa chan #iwa chan x male reader #iwa chan x reader #seijoh #aoba johsai #seijoh 3rd years #aoba johsai 3rd years #iwaizumi x you #hq iwaizumi #hq x male reader

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breanime · 3 years

Text

His Vows (with Bonus Boy)

Pure fluff ahead!

Billy Russo: Never in a million years did Billy ever think he’d be marrying someone--much less someone he actually loved. Affection, loyalty, vulnerability, those things that were required for love came hard to him. And yet, with you, he felt them. Looking at you made him feel incredibly strong and somehow especially weak, like he could take on the world, but only if you were by his side. The orphan in him wanted to spend thousands on your wedding, wanted to make a statement, a declaration for everyone to see. But the man in him knew better. The man in him--only recently discovered through your support--didn’t need to impress strangers, didn’t need the approval of his “betters”. He only needed you. So as Billy stood in front of the judge, Frank and Curtis at his side, your parents and best friend behind you, he knew this was right. You told him you didn’t want a big wedding, didn’t need the fanfare, and that alone was enough to make Billy, over 100 confirmed kills under his belt, fall to his knees in devotion. You only wanted him. He reached out then, taking your hand in his, and let the small audience around you fade into the background. “Despite what my guys at Anvil might say,” he began with a slight smirk, “I’m not really one for speeches,” he paused, hearing Frank’s scoff and Curtis’ chuckle, before going on, “so I’ll keep this brief. I never thought I’d have this. Growing up, my only goal was to become somebody, and even then, that was more about proving something to myself than anything else. But then I met you. And damn,” he shook his head, his smirk turning into a rare, genuine smile, “if you didn’t change everything. So thank you. Thank you for making me into the man I am today, and thank you for staying with me, working with me, being so patient with me. I love you, and I promise, from this day forward, I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re the happiest person on the planet,” he looked into your shining eyes, a sense of certainty going through him, an instinctual push that let him know that he was doing the right thing, “I love you, and I’m so happy to be your husband.”

Logan Delos: As soon as you and Logan had walked down the aisle, officially man and wife, Logan pulled you away. “Logan,” you laughed as he led you down a hall, “what are you doing?” “I’m having a private moment with my wife,” he answered, opening a door and pulling you into the spare room with him, “My wife. Mrs. Logan Delos,” he grinned down at you, “Fuck... How’d I get so lucky?” You laughed, and Logan reached over and held your face in his hands, staring down at the rest of his life. “I’m serious... How did I get so lucky? I mean... I’m a perpetual fuck up, the bane of my father’s existence and still, despite all of that... I got you,” he sighed sweetly, “I love you, princess. I’m gonna love you till the day I die, and maybe even after that too,” he smiled at your responding laugh, “Definitely after that. Fuck,” he let out a breath, laughing at the end of it, “I just... I just won at life, babe. I mean--look at you. Look at us! I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life in-between lovers, just waking up smothered in a sea of dicks and--” “--You realize we’re in a church, right?” You deadpanned. He laughed--Logan laughed a lot when he was with you--and he leaned down and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned against his lips. “Ah ah,” he teased, pulling back with a smirk, “you know we’re in a church, right? But seriously, babe... I never thought I’d be a one-woman guy. But you... You’re all that I want. You’re everything. You just... You just came into my life and changed everything. I was just running around, fucking around... and you just burst in and gave me... Purpose,” he sighed happily, “It wasn’t until I met you that I realized why I was put on this earth. I was born to be yours. I was born to marry you and love you and take care of you, and I will,” he leaned down and kissed you now, his kiss soft and slow, nothing but love in his touch, “I will.... So now, let’s go get drunk and dance so we can get out of here, and I can really show you how I feel.”

Jax Teller: “I promise to treat you as good as my leather,” Jax recited, that famous Teller smirk on his face. You laughed as the room erupted in cheers and applause, and Jax kissed you. He was smiling when he pulled back, those blue eyes of his twinkling with love for you and you alone. “I really lucked out when you agreed to be my Old Lady,” he said, his voice making the laughs die down, all eyes on him, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life... especially with love,” he admitted, “I was stubborn and ignorant and lost, but even through all that... You were there. You kept me grounded, you showed me what it meant to be a man and an outlaw, taught me how to reconcile those parts of myself, and for that... I’ll always be grateful to you, darlin’. You understand me--all the parts of me. I don’t ever have to worry about how to tell you things, or keep things from you. You get the club life. You support me. Hell,” he chuckled, “even my Mom likes you, and we all know what a tough sell she is.” The crowd laughed, and when you glanced over at Gemma, she had tears in her eyes. She gave you a small, approving nod, and that, coupled with Jax’s words, had you crying too. Jax laughed, gently reaching out and wiping your tears away with his thumb, “I love you. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life. No matter what life throws at us, I know we can handle it. You and me... we’re meant to be together, baby. We’ve been through enough to know that that’s true,” he smiled down at you, a soft, special smile on his face that was just for you, “I know everyday isn’t gonna be perfect. There’s gonna be times when we argue, but I promise you--here and now, in front of everyone we love, that I will never go to bed angry at you. I promise to always do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and protected,” he leaned a little closer to you, every inch of him devoted to you and you alone, “I promise that I will be the husband and the man you deserve. And, most importantly... I promise to ride you as much as my Harley.” The room erupted in laughter again, and you were still laughing--and crying--when your husband kissed you again. You knew, from that kiss, that he would keep his promises to you. Every single one.

Coco Cruz: “I’m not... I’m not fucking great at this,” Coco began, his hands in yours, his eyes darting around the room, “You know, public speaking and all that shit... But, uh, I think it’s important to, uh... To speak my truth, so...” He took a breath, and you squeezed his hands in yours, and that was enough to calm his raging heart. Coco looked at you, his wife, and felt a completeness that he’d never imagined he’d feel in his life. He swallowed, willing himself to speak. “Everybody knows that, when I became a Mayan, when I joined the MC, it changed my life. I was in a bad place, you know? Just came back from Iraq, my mind was all messed up. But the MC helped me get right, you know? And then there was you, and all of a sudden, I realized... I was made for you,” he leaned forward a bit, swaying as he spoke, his hair blocking everyone but you from his sight, “I used to think my life was just some sick fucking joke. Then, when I became a Mayan, I thought it was all about being a warrior, being a brother--and it is. But there’s more to it then that. I didn’t realize until I met you, but... I was born to be with you. From the second I saw you, I knew I needed you. I need you way more than you need me,” he smiled, a soft chuckle coming from his lips, “It’s true,” he turned, addressing his brothers, “You guys remember what it was like, right? When we first started dating?” He was met with low murmurs and laughter. “I was a fucking mess,” he laughed, “I kept asking Taza and Hank how to be a good boyfriend. And somehow Angel ended up giving me advice, which was basically just ‘man up’,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you, “I just... I just need to say, you’re perfect. And I know you don’t like when I say that, but it’s true. You’re perfect to me. Even when you’re a fucking raging psychopath,” he chuckled at your fake incredulous look, “you’re perfect. You help me see past the bullshit, help me see that life don’t just gotta be some fucking struggle... You make me happy, man. So happy. And I just want to make you happy, too. I want to be a good husband to you, and I’m gonna try. And even on days when shit ain’t perfect, I will still love you with all my heart, so...” He took a breath, his heart pounding as he looked down at you, his perfect person, his wife. “... Let’s fucking party!” You laughed, wiping your happy tears as the room erupted in cheers and the sounds of beer bottles clanking together. This was the first day of the rest of your life, and you couldn’t be happier for it.

Angel Reyes: Angel sighed, his eyes welling up with tears. “This,” he began, stopping when he heard the sound of his own voice breaking. He cleared his throat, “This is... This isn’t how I imagined it. Like, when I was a kid, I mean. Like, not to be soft and everything, but... I used to think about this day, you know? Me marrying some dope girl, being in love, my family here to celebrate. So I mean... I’m happy,” he nodded, “I’m so... Man, I’m so happy. I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, just... I feel like... Like I was incomplete before this, you know? Like this woman... she’s the other part of my soul. And I’m so happy, it’s crazy. It’s scary. I keep waiting to mess it up, keep waiting to say or do something to bring it all crumbling down, but... it won’t. I trust that it won’t,” he nodded again, meaning the words he spoke with all of his heart. Angel reached out, his fingers--adorned with no other ring but his wedding ring--brushing against his mother’s altar, “Watching you and Pop... I always wanted a love like yours, and now I got it, and I’m so happy, Ma... I am, but,” he blinked, the first tear falling, “...but I wish you were here to see it. I wish you could have met her; I wish she could have met you. You would have loved her, Ma. Pops loves her, EZ loves her--I tell her about you, but... But it’s not the same,” he wiped his tear, shaking his head a bit, “I know you’re looking down at us from Heaven, I know you see us, see her,” he sniffled, swallowing his tears, “And that’s good enough for me,” he chuckled lowly, “I know you saw when we first met, saw me pulling that machismo crap, trying to impress her. You saw it ain’t work, either,” he laughed again, “I bet it was you that gave me the idea to bring her lunch at work, wasn’t it? Yeah... That has you written all over it, Ma,” he tapped her urn, smiling warmly at the memories, “I love her so much... And I know you would have loved her, too. I just... I want to be a good husband to her... a good father---someday--to our kids,” he took a breath, “So, Ma, please... Be with me now like you were with me when I proposed, give me that same courage and certainty you gave me before, yeah? Cause in a minute, I’m about to go out there in front of all our family and friends, and I’m about to commit myself to this woman for the rest of my life, and I... I need you with me, Mami,” satisfied, he kissed two fingers and pressed them against his mother’s urn, “Thank you.” He straightened up, fixing his hair and wiping his eyes again. Nodding to himself, he walked off, murmuring, “Good chat...” all the way to the altar.

Miguel Galindo: “I am not a man who can easily admit he was wrong,” Miguel began, chuckling along with the rest of the church at his words, “Okay,” he admitted, shaking his head a bit, “I never admit I was wrong,” he paused, looking into your eyes, and he felt that familiar tug in his chest that he always felt when he looked at you--pure love. “But I was wrong. As many of you know, I was married once before. And I thought that I’d spend the rest of my life with that person. I was wrong,” he reached out for your hand, taking it in his, the warmth of it spreading through his entire body, all the way into his heart, “I was wrong, and I have never been happier to admit that. Because from that failure, came you. And I’m thankful for you every moment of every day,” he smiled, and your heart flipped in your chest at the sight of your soon-to-be-husband, “It isn’t easy to be with me, I know,” he nodded, giving you a silent acknowledgment, “But you... You just know me. You know how to read me, how to get me to talk when I don’t want to,” he laughed, “how to shut me up when I want to talk... I’m at your mercy. And what’s more,” he leaned forward a bit, “...I like it,” his smile widened at the sight of yours, “I remember the day that I realized that I needed you in my life for the long haul. It was when we flew to Iceland. You fell asleep against my shoulder. You were so tired... And I was too. I was frustrated and tired and irritated, but when I looked down at you... Mi amor, I felt nothing but gratefulness. Grateful to have you in my life, grateful to be able to have you by my side, to have you as mine. I’ve been blessed with many great things; a wonderful son, multiple successful businesses, a beautiful home... But it’s you, my love, you who makes me take a step back and really see how lucky I am. Because all of the money in the world would mean nothing if I didn’t have you to share it with,” he reached out and wiped your budding tears, smiling fondly at you, “I love you,” was all he said before he was kissing you, and the resulting applause blooming around you was nothing but white noise with Miguel’s lips against yours. He whispered something against your lips as the church applause your love, just a short, simple sentence that had you crying with love. “Thank you, mi amor, for proving me wrong.”

Nick Amaro: “Gil and Zara and I are so happy to welcome you into our family,” Nick said, giving a special smile to ring-bearer Gil and flower-girl Zara, both of whom grinned back at him, Zara flashing you a quick wave, “Gil keeps saying that I took too long, and Zara says I should have just married you months ago, and they’re both right,” he laughed, “But I wanted to give you this--the wedding, the reception--because I know this is important to you. It’s important to me, too,” he took a breath, looking down at your intertwined fingers before looking up again, smiling at your beautiful face, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, my career, but you...” He sighed happily, “I know I can get in my own head a lot, but somehow, with you... It just seems like everything falls into place. I mean... That’s your power. You just make everything seem so easy. I see you with the kids, with your job, with me,” he chuckled, “And it’s like you instinctively know what to do, how to handle me. You make it look easy, and you can ask Olivia, dealing with me, isn’t easy.” He looked over at Olivia, her eyes shining with approval as she watched you together. “But you do. For good or bad, better or worse,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, “I love you. Completely. Totally. And I’m going to continue on loving you until the day I die,” his smile reached his eyes, and they shimmered with love for you, “And probably even after that, to be honest. Every morning when I wake up and see your face, when I hear you and the kids laughing, when I see the joy you bring into our lives... It makes me feel so... secure,” he nodded, pleased at his choice of words, “And you know better than anyone how hard that is for me: to feel secure. You just... You make everything easier, more manageable... And everything I do from here on out is for you and the kids. I love you...Mrs. Amaro.”

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny couldn’t stop smiling. His mom was there, his Graceland family was there, and most importantly--the future Mrs. Johnny Tuturro was standing in front of him, just minutes away from becoming his wife. “Alright, alright, alright,” Johnny began, “Everybody shut up, I got somethin’ to say!” Jakes groaned in the crowd, “Jesus, Johnny, then just say it!” “Don’t rush him,” you called back, giving Jakes a friendly glare. Johnny laughed, kissing your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he stood up straight, “Look, anyone with eyes can see that my girl is fly,” he started, making everyone laugh, “But for real, the moment I saw her, I knew she was different. I mean, she’s gorgeous, yeah, but she’s also smart, brave, a certified badass--sorry for cussin’, Ma--and the love of my life,” he smiled down at you, eyes soft, “I love you, I love you, I love you. And I am so happy to be making you my wife,” he turned pointing off into the audience at Briggs, “Which by the way--ha HA! I knew she wouldn’t go for you! Best bet I ever took, seeing which one of us was gonna get your number... though I ain’t gonna lie, you had me scared for a moment there when you started getting chummy with Charlie,” he chuckled, “But I was the lucky one. That was the start of the rest of my life, and I want to make every day we have together a perfect day. No matter what life throws at us, what happens at work, what we go through as people or as a couple, we’re always gonna have each other’s backs. Me and you,” he went on, “We were meant to be, baby. Fated. And baby, I promise you, I will be the best husband I can be. Because that’s what you deserve. And as happy as I am to be here with you right now, in front of all of our friends and families... Man, I can’t wait to get out of here and just be with you,” he grinned, and you could see the dirty promise behind those sweet words, “I’m crazy about you, baby girl, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he leaned in, kissing you, his next words whispered, so only you could hear him, “can’t wait to have married sex in the limo, either...”

Rio: When you woke up, the late morning sun painting your body in its light, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Rio’s eyes. They were soft and warm, that deep brown peering down at you and making you feel like the most beloved person on the planet. Which, of course, you were. “So?” He asked, caressing the side of your face with two of those long, sinewy fingers. “So what?” You asked, already in a daze from the softness of his voice and the sweet smile on his face. “So what do you think? How’d the first night of matrimony go? You ready to give back my dowry yet? Sell me back to my father?” You laughed, cuddling closer to him. “Nah, I think I’ll keep you. I mean, you did come with a cow and two chickens, so I guess you’re worth it.” He wrapped his arms around you, and you closed your eyes, melting into his touch. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the crown of your head. “Love you, too,” you said back, rubbing his back. “Hey,” he pulled back a bit, looking down at you, “Yesterday was perfect,” he began, “The wedding, the reception... I ain’t never seen Marcus so excited to talk as he was when he gave his speech.” “Oh, don’t remind me,” you sighed, smiling at the memory, “I cried so hard; it was such a good speech.” “Yeah,” he nodded, kissing your forehead, “He was so proud to be able to tell you how much he loves you,” Rio sighed, “but, here’s the thing, mama... There was one thing about yesterday that I wish I could change.” You frowned, “What?” “I kinda wish we would’ve done vows,” he admitted. “Really?” You asked, eyes wide. You and Rio had decided early on not to have vows, you’d both agreed that it was so private, you didn’t want to make a spectacle out of your love. But hearing him say that he’d wished he’d given you his vows had your heart pounding. He nodded, “Yeah. So... I was thinkin’... Maybe I could say my vows now. I mean, I ain’t write nothing down or anything, but I just wanted to say... I love you. I love what you’ve done to me, to Marcus... I love the way you brighten up my life, how you accepted my son with open arms, how you work so well with me, the way you inspire me, the way you make me want to flip my game. I love how I can tell you everything, how I never have to hide any parts of myself with you,” he titled your chin up, smiling down at you, “I love having you as my wife. I love you, Mrs. Rivera.” He kissed you then, and you kissed him back, sighing against his lips, pressing yourself against him. “So,” he grinned, “How was that? Decent vows?” You laughed, kissing his nose, “Perfect.”

Bonus Boy

Tommy Shelby: “I have something I want to say,” Tommy announced. Everyone in the church grew silent, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Jeremiah’s face as he turned to you. Every eye was on you, and you turned to Tommy, curious as to what he was about to say. “I want it known,” he started, his voice booming through the church, “That this is the last time I’m ever getting married, because this is the woman I was always meant to be with,” he looked over at you, those brilliant blue eyes piercing right through your soul, “Me whole life, I’ve spent planning, thinking, rethinking. Every move I’ve made as a businessman has been a calculated one, but with you,” he said, his focus on you and you alone, “It’s all instinct. I don’t have to overthink or second guess with you, because I can feel that you’re what’s right. You’re what’s been missing. And now that I have you... Well, there’s peace. Peace in me head and me heart that I thought had left for good. And I have you to thank for that. So now, I want to make you a promise, and I want to make it in front of all of our family and friends, because if nothing else, I know Aunt Pol, Jeremiah, and our Ada will make sure I keep it,” he gave you a small smile, and just that one gesture was enough to have you nearly swooning, “So here it is. I promise, from this moment, till the day I die, to always love, honor, and respect you. I will never lie to you, I will never leave you. I am yours,” he promised, “Every part of me; even the parts I don’t like, belong to you. And everyone,” his voice got a bit louder, and he turned a bit, addressing the crowd, “will know that you are Mrs. Tommy Shelby, and they will treat you accordingly.” You smiled; his words were as much an announcement as a threat. “Now, Jeremiah,” he said, a friendly note coming back into his voice, “Let’s get on with this ceremony, eh? I want to take my bride to London.”

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#bre's boys preference #Bre's Boys #billy russo x reader #logan delos x reader #jax teller x reader #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #nick amaro x reader #johnny tuturro x reader #rio x reader #tommy shelby x reader

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Crimelord Boba Fett proposing to female reader and promises to protect her with his life. :)

Did someone say King of the Underworld Boba Fett? Don’t mind if we do. Goodbye Bib Fortuna, long live the King.

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; warnings: egregious use of little one

Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air is acrid and thick, feeling like it was suffocating you rather than helping to you live. Raising a hand to your face, you looked around the desolate Dune Sea, wondering why on earth you were being summoned to Maker forsaken Tatooine. And who the kriff was summoning you?

All you knew was that you had been summoned from your home on Corsucant - rather forcefully, and dragged back to this hell hole. Under any other circumstances you would have fought back or questioned what was actually going on, but something about the small but imposing woman that dragged you with her caused you to keep your mouth shut. She hadn’t given you so much as a name - hers or your mysterious summoner, and you hadn’t asked.

She’d watched you closely on the hours long ride to Tatooine, seeming to study and observe you with curiosity. At one point you had wanted to snap back at her but the weapons holstered to her side and stowed around the ship made you bite your tongue and bide your time. The woman didn’t say a single word; neither did you.

If you were being taken to your death, then that was that. You’d made that much up in your mind as soon as you’d stepped foot onto the ship. Harsh and cruel as it was too say, there wasn’t much you would be losing, nor would many people miss you. It was a quiet life you led these days, keeping to yourself and your humble abode in a small, but safe corner of Coruscant.

You’d been there, waiting, hoping, wishing ever since - no.

No, no, no. You weren’t going to let your mind back to that dark, haunted place. It was something that still managed to seep into the front of your mind, no matter how many years you tried to suppress them. It was when a man with dark hair would come into your little shop and you’d only catch a glimpse. When you heard deep, rough laughter that was all consuming. When you’d see a hint of green armor. When you’d hear a voice even remotely similar to his...

Boba Fett might have died many years ago, but he had never left your heart. He was still in everything you did, so many little things reminding you of what was and what could have been.

You hadn’t been back to this living hell since the day he’d died, lost to the sarlacc and left only to become memories that would fade away over generations. You’d wanted to stay there, to wait and see if somehow he would come back to you, but you couldn’t.

You’d left the next day and never looked back. You hated yourself for it, but you also...your heart had been broken into hundreds of millions of tiny shards of transparisteel. Ever since, you’d hoped that maybe one you’d come across your lover.

But the day never came. And while you went along with life, you still held onto the slight hope that maybe one day...maybe, maybe, maybe.

A soft sigh escaped your parched lips as you felt immediately all consumed by the sand, like it was becoming a part of you or you were destined to become a part of it. Either way, it was enough to frustrate you as you shielded your eyes from the harsh heat and blazing light of the twin suns.

“Keep up,” it was the first time she had spoken to you since she’d first called your name and instructed you to come with her. She was commanding for a figure so slight, but you had a feeling she was much deadlier than she looked - and she was already a sight. Biting back a groan you picked up the pace and trailed after her, confusion clouding your features as you began to realize where you were headed.

This was Jabba’s Palace...well no - Bib Fortuna’s. Just like Boba, Jabba, the disgusting, foul, loathsome leader of the galaxy’s biggest syndicate had been dead for some time.

What the kriff would Bib Fortuna want with you?

You’d cut off any ties you’d had with any of them long ago, before Boba was even dead. There was no way you could ever provide anything useful to him...

Autopilot had completely taken over and you were barely aware of the fact that you’d reached the palace and were headed towards its inner sanctum. Your stomach lurched as you walked through the walls you hoped would forever be a memory as you realized just how clearly you remember it all. Sure, the place had seen better days, wearing down from the harsh sandy winds and the hands of time, but it was ever the same.

Except this time - few people were milling about, no workers to be seen and it felt surprisingly...tame. Not something you thought would ever be possible for his place. Something had to have happened... something was off-

“Down,” the woman pointed at the stone staircase, her hand on the small of your back as she gently nudged you towards the top step. You were half surprised that she didn’t just completely shove you down to the bottom, but the energy you were getting from her wasn’t mean or negative...just curious.

“W-what?” you managed to stammer, your throat dry and scratchy the heat and lack of water. She quirked a dark brow and pointed at the stairs again.

“Down,” she repeated, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Kriff. You were going to die at the hands of Fortuna. He was a weak man, bolstered by those he keep around him, ego inflated beyond measure. On his own he was a pathetic little thing, but when surrounded by his goons, he was cruel and merciless at worst.

Accepting your fate, you started your slow descend down the stairs, your heartbeat screaming in your ears with each foot fall. Your chest was thumping so wildly you were sure that it would burst through your chest at any point.

But nothing met your ears, there were no sounds, no talking, no music, nothing. It was almost deafeningly silent.

When your feet hit the soft sand floor, you did a quick survey of the almost empty room. A few torches lined the wall, but that was about all. The throne was in the center of the room as it always was and -

Maker. The Throne.

As you looked at it, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked upon the singular figure in the room besides yourself.

The man was in armor from head to toe. Green armor. With red accents. You knew those colors, those colors you once considered your own, those were his colors.

But no - it couldn’t have been. No, no, no, this was an impostor, this was -

“Hello little one,” that voice. You knew it more intimately than anything else, you know that voice inside and out. That voice that had laughed at you a million times, that voice that been in your ear during the heat of passion, the one that teased you, the one that scolded you when you did something dangerous. That voice.

It was his. Boba’s.

“No,” you shook your head as you refused to move closer to the man that was surely a pretender - a great one, but still not your Boba, “y-y-you aren’t...no.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the dark T of his visor trained on your as he refused to look away. You stared right back, as if you were seeing a ghost - in some ways you were.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, stepping down from his throne, imposing as ever as he slowly walked over to you. You stilled in your actions, wondering if you should run away or fight or something. Instead you watched as he came closer and closer and closer - right until he stopped dead in front of you.

“You’re just as pretty as then,” his voice was soft as he reached a gloved hand up touch your cheek. He hesitated before making contact with your skin, stripping the worn leather gloves off and tossing them mindlessly onto the sandy floor. He watched you closely before finally touching your cheek to his see if you would stop him or flinch out of his touch.

But you didn’t; despite believing he was gone all of these years, a small bit of you still had hope.

“Boba?” it was a weak, pathetic little whimper as you keened into his touch. He stalled for just a moment, his heart almost stopping at the sound of his name from your lips. It was even sweeter than he remembered, “is it really you?”

“I told you I’d never leave you, little one,” he rasped as you worked to blink back tears that had started to well up in your eyes. You looked at him with wide doe eyes as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. As a single tear pearled up and ran down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away, “it just took me a little longer than planned to get back to you.”

And then you laughed; despite the situation and the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, you just laughed. Before you knew it, he was laughing as well, a warm, rich sound that you remembered like it had been yesterday.

“Boba,” you couldn’t believe it. This whole time, all these years, your hope wasn’t wasted after all, “you’re alive. You’re here - I’m here. I-I...I dreamed of this day so many times.”

“As have I,” he promised, “I’m just...I’m afraid that I might be a little different than you last remembered - the sarlacc was not a kind friend to me.”

“I don’t care,” you promised him, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re alive and that’s all...I...please, let me look at your face. I need to see you, Boba.”

He gave a curt nod before dropping his hand from your cheek and exhaling deeply. Slowly, he put his hands on either of the helmet - newly painted, you noted - and tugged it up and off. You swallowed nervously, anxious to see the eyes of your lover once again.

Boba let the helmet fall to the ground, the thud dulled by the pillowy sand, nervous for you to say something, anything. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this? This was nothing; scarred and more weathered than when he had been a younger man, he was still the same as always. Boba - your Boba.

“At least one of us is - “

Before he could say anything in the negative, your put your hands on either side of his face before crashing your lips onto his. He was taken aback for a moment at your sudden action, but it didn’t take more than a beat for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly against his chest. It was like no time had passed at all, and you still knew each other just as you always had.

Only when you needed a breath of air did you pull apart, staring back into his soft brown eyes.

“Boba,” it was soft - reverent - and worked to thaw the icy harshness that had settled over his heart, “I love you. I’ve always loved you so much. I never stopped. I always hoped that somehow you would make your way back to me.”

“Always, my little one,” he promised with a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I will always protect you. No harm shall ever come to you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you wrapped your arms his neck and held him, just held him, as the two of your synced your breathing and become reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

“Will you stay?” he asked quietly as you pulled back and nodded. For Boba, you would have done anything and gone anywhere in the galaxy, “w-with me?”

“Yes,” you promised him softly as you traced over his features delicately with the tip of your finger, “always. There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded, “I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Boba Fett,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you, Boba.”

“I love you too, little one,” he kissed the top of your head, “come on, we have much to talk about.”

“And now have all the time in the galaxy.”

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba is my king 😌#the Mandalorian #star wars #temeura morrison

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annabellenaughtyprincessrose · 3 years

Text

My Brothers, The Lovers ❤ (Repost: Classic fanfic)

My Brothers, The Lovers *Revised version*

By Annabelle Naughty Princess Rose

Summary:I wouldn't trade my Brothers for anything in the world. SAM/DEAN/OFC. Wincest!

Rated: MA (18+)

Author notes: Hey guys! Well, I have another classic fic of mine to share. This was a little idea I had while I wrote this story, an OFC sister of Sam and Dean Winchester, and thier growing forbidden bond. So, this is a Wincest story.

This story was recently published on my Fanfiction.net, as well as on live journal, Wattpad, and WordPress page. There may be some little changes I made because the story had bad typos. (Don't judge me.)

Please note: That this story contains Wincest. If you are uncomfortable with this nature, please DO NOT read!

Lastly, I don't own any characters. The story plot was my idea. ;)

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

(Reader's POV:)

I love my brothers. They are caring. They are protective. When you're feeling down, they turn your frown upside down. If it was over a guy, they would stop at nothing to nail his ass to a wall. Any person, whether boy or girl is lucky to have them.

I wouldn't trade my brothers for anything in the world. They are a godsend. Sam and Dean: my knights in shinning amour.

We been through a lot together. Since our father died, it has been hell on earth...literally!

But no matter, we had stuck it through till the end and now we could live our lives...

A lot has happened since we saved the world from certain doom. We had one hard challenge: to learn how to live normal lives. I mean, I know it sounds stupid to do one simple thing, but come on, In our eyes, we are hunters. We were born as hunters. I don't think the three of us couldn't shake the fact that life was over. It was the only thing we knew.

But still, we somehow mange to cope with it. We settled in Kansas with the help of our father's will. We brought a house pretty much like the one you see on those commercials with the white picket fence.

It was close to the University Sam was planning to attend to resume his studies as a attorney and close to Lisa, Dean's one last stand and his possible legitimate lovechild Ben. I, myself was planning to go to a local Community College. At first, I didn't really wanted to go to school, but Sam insisted that it was serve me well later in life.

Yeah, life was perfect... at least for the half of that year. The urge of the life of freedom were still brewing inside us. We miss the life with no worries, of bills, school, kids...

So we sold the house hop into the impala and left.

About three months after, I noticed that our bond was changing. I noticed Dean would at times, would make quick glances out from the corner of my eye. I really didn't pay to much attention to it at first because I thought it was something that brothers normally do.

But now I found at night when I take turns laying next to him or Sam, at times I could have swore I felt his eyes staring down at me while I sleep.

Sam on the other hand had a very different approach. There would be times whenever me and him are alone, he wouldn't normally act like your typical big brother. He would act as though like a boyfriend. When me and him are alone, He would be a lot closer than usual. At times when I'm in the shower, I could have swore that I heard him breathing on the other side of the curtain not to mention to very tall figure I see just standing mere inches.

I guess I'm just imagination things. That's it's all in my head. Or maybe, I have a bad case of thinking dirty. Can I help it? I am not going to lie. My brothers are absolutely drop-dead gorgeous! They could get the princess of Cambridge a heat attack! I found that comment to be quite interesting! I begin to think the times when the three of us would be out, like geoceries shopping, bars,at the park. I have women rolling their eyes, whispering words about me, thinking that I was a whore for my brothers...

Nothing could prepare me for what happened two weeks later...

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy hotel. I was writing in my journal at the same time sneaking glances at Dean as he was wiping down the impala. The way he smiles as he glazes down at his baby makes me happy but a tad jealous...but he assure me that I was his main baby.

I could hear the faint sound of water coming from the bathroom. Sam,was inside, washing his god build form in the shower.

Turning my head, I couldn't help but grin as I saw a narrow view of his ass. Even after all these years, Sam still had a nasty habit about leaving the shower curtain open.

"Hey," Dean replies getting my attention. I turn my head towards him trying to look innocent."What are you smirking at?" He asks.

At his question, I raised my eyebrows giving him a side smile.

"Nothing. just a thought I was thinking." I looked up at him and I could tell he wasn't buying it. That's the thing I love about Dean, he has the sense to know whether something was troubling me or Sam...and he would stop at nothing to find out.

"About? I curious," He replies in a singing tone making me laugh.

"It's personal. My thoughts only," I winked. Finally he give up the debate and returns to his duty wiping down his impala.

Later that night, we decided to pay a visit at local bar. That day was the worst night of my life.

To be from what seemed, the only sibling with two very handsome attractive brothers was a bitch!

From the second we walk in, there were woman, whether their were in a relationship,married, or even betrayal their same-sex partner, had cornered us.

One was a blonde, who I can tell had the personality of stupid trying to seduce Dean with her luscious but totally fake breasts. While a brunette who was staring Sam down and was the bartender of the bar didn't give a damn if she had other people waiting to be served. It disgust me how women could be so depraved for a man.

I wanted to get out of there. The room felt as through it was trying to suffocate me. It hurt my heart to see I was the only one left out. To keep myself from bursting into tears, I did just that but my attempt to leave was cut short by a hand on by wrists.

Turning my head, I came face to face to a man who was pure hillbilly. He had messy hair,oily jumper and I remember that when I was at the bar, I would turn my head and he would smile at me.

"Where do you think you're going, darling?" The man asked. I can tell that he was drunk and had the slightest clue as what he was doing.

"Going home," I replied. "And I appreciated if you remove your hand from my wrist." I tried to Jerk him away but it was a useless attempt.

"I don't think so darling, You're looking very pretty there's no need for an angel face like you to scurry away..."He tried to pull me along, but I stood my ground. Then he does the unthinkable, He roughly pulls me against him loosing his balance completely falling on one of the now broken tables.

Everyone turned their heads Including Sam and Dean who immediately lest from their social gathering to my aid.

"Hey Asshole!"Dean replies as he and Sam walked over to the scene. "What are you doing with my sister?!" He began to throw insults at the poor man, while ignoring Sam's attempt to help me up, I stood up on my feet.

"I'm fine," I replied. "The fat ass broke my fall."

"Fat ass?" The man shouted. "Who are you calling a fat ass you bitch!"

"Hey!" Dean shouted. reaching down to jerk the man up by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to my sister like that!"

"What happened?" Sam asked, taking my hand and I jerked it away.

"Oh! Like you care! he was trying to rape me!" I shouted. "Forget it! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" The last thing I remember was Dean calling that fat bastard "a Son of a Bitch" before throwing punches and Sam trying to calm him down.

At the Hotel, I stood fully nude in the shoulder letting the warm water abuse my body. I was just so relieved that I got out of there.

So what I acted like a ass. So what if I act like a jealous girlfriend. I'm not going to be held responsive. I could hear the door to the hotel room opening following the distant voices between the two.

Dean was shouted some sentence that were inseparable and Sam was speaking in a mild tone. I covered my ears, to try to block out the conversation, along with the pounding of the door, but it a useless. Finally, I finished my shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and took a deep breath. I made my way out of the bathroom with my head down before glazing at the faces of my older brothers.

Sam, who now has a sad look on his face. His green eyes sparking with concern. Whilst Dean has a pissed off expression, trying his best to remain calm. There were no words that were unable to fall out of mouth. I just walked passed them and climb into to very large king side bed we shared with saying a unexpectedly surprising, I suddenly began to cry my ear out.

Almost immediately, Sam and Dean's expressions changed. If they were confused, I could say the same thing. The reason why I was crying, I couldn't understand. I was always the second tough one when it comes from intense situations, I guess with everything that we had been through together finally had took a toll on me. I see with my watery eyes Sam turned towards Dean and he nodded his head. without hesitation, they began to walk towards me.

Dean lay on my left, Sam lay on my right. They huddled up against me trying to console me. Sam was wiping away from my tears, while Dean began to rub small circles down my back.

This warm fuzzy feeling began to grow inside me. I gaze into Sam's eyes and I can see the easiness and calm in his face. Then I did the unthinkable. I reached my hand and caress his cheek and I leaned in a kiss him passionately on the lips.

There was no feeling I can't describe other than, I felt as through I explode into a million pieces. What was more shocking is that Sam didn't pull away. He gave in and began to response with my advances. Dean was anxious to show his passion. I could feel his lips on my neck, his hands trailed down to my breast giving them a firm squeeze.

I moaned in response breaking my lips with Sam replacing them with his. I tried to show my love for the both of them. Wanting to give them all of me...

Everything happen in a flash. the removing of clothes. The hot soft lips on my heated skin. The feeling of being completely filled. Like flipping a page in a book. Like riding the biggest wave and suddenly ,you're caught in the tide.I felt so much pleasure.

It felt like Heaven. It was heaven...

That was last night...

And here we are...

Today is a new day. I stare at the ceiling with a smile on my face as I felt warm naked bodies sleeping silently against me...

Nude Dean on my left...

Nude Sam on my right.

Right now, I can't say that God is pleased. Not with the events that had happened. Now, When I said I love my brothers...I love them more than just a sibling nature. I love them, I'm madly in love with them! When I think of their eyes and their smiling faces, it makes my body want to explode in fireworks.I don't care what people would say. I don't care if our father would turn over in his grave, I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world! it always will be the three of us forever...

Sam and Dean,

My brothers, the lovers.

The End.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #wincest #winchester brothers #winchester sister #samwinterchester #sam x dean x reader smut #dean x reader #sam x reader #supernatural+smut #spn smut

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.8

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eight: Wild Love: Spencer gets something off his chest while you’re stuck in a hotel room. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this whole series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: y’all are killing me with all the love on this story so far omg. i am so appreciative of every single comment, like, reblog, all the sweet things you say in the tags etc. etc. thank you and i hope you like this chapter (this one turned out to be more conversation than descriptions of feelings/thoughts just fyi) ! x

“Since we’re stuck here for the night, how about one more drink?” Luke asked, glancing between the team. “You buying?” Matt teased making everyone else chuckle. Luke rolled his eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

All flights were grounded due to a heavy snowstorm. This meant that after solving their most recent case, the team were forced to remain on location. At a small bed and breakfast right in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ll have another drink.” Emily stated with a smile. “Sure, why the hell not. It’s not often I get a night away from my boys.” JJ added. Tara also raised her hand, indicating she'll have one more.

All heads turned to you and Spencer. The brunette doctor sat quietly in the corner. Clearly a lot on his mind. You were right by his side, gently resting your head against his shoulder.

A small yawn escaped your lips. “I think I’m gonna call it a night guys.” You said, slowly sitting up. “It’s been a heck of a day, and the bed is calling my name.” The group groaned, but didn't protest. Instead, they all looked to Spencer who seemed to be debating his options.

“What about you Reid?” Luke asked. “Care for another one?”

“Sure. Uh, I’ll walk Y/N to her room and I’ll be right back.” “It’s okay Spencer, stay. I’ll be fine.” You countered while getting up to your feet however, the handsome doctor wasn’t taking no for answer.

Unknown to you, unknown to everyone apart from Penelope, Spencer’s been trying to find the right moment to tell you how he really felt. He spent the last two months debating whether it was a good idea. The idea of telling you he was still in love with you scared the shit out of him because it could go one of two ways:

1. You feel the same way and call off the engagement. The two of you get back together and he spends the rest of his living breathing days making you the happiest woman on earth.

2. You don’t feel the same way and you end up resenting him for lying to you, his confession ruining your friendship.

Either way, someone will end up getting hurt.

“You really didn't have to come with me doctor.” You said stopping outside the door. Spencer shrugged his shoulders, his nose twitching simultaneously. “I wanted to. Plus sitting too long causes a number of health issues. Your leg muscles weaken. Your hip flexors shorten, and it can cause compression on the discs in your spine which can lead to premature degeneration, which results in chronic pain.”

You arched a brow. “So what you’re saying is that you’re really just looking out for yourself?”

“No, I-I, well...” He flustered and you couldn't help but chuckle. “We’ve been friends long enough for you to know when I’m just messing around.” Friends. The word stung. “Right. Sorry.” He glanced down at his shoes.

Sudden concern flooded through you. Gently, you placed a hand on the side of his face, and slowly lifted it back up. “Are you okay honey? You seem a little off, and I hope you don't mind me saying but it’s not just tonight.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Mind racing a million miles an hour. Of course you recognised his odd behaviour. He thought he did a good job at hiding his inner turmoil. Honestly, sometimes he forgets just how well you can read him. He forgets that you know him better than he knows himself.

“I hope you know you can talk to me.” You whispered, tenderly brushing loose strands of his hair away from his face.

The gleam in your eyes was so kindhearted. It was exactly that look that made Spencer think he truly didn't deserve you and that you were better off without him. It was also that look that made Spencer love you even more. The look that made him want to fight for you.

“Do ehm, do you think I could come in?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Of course.” You let your hand fall back to your side. “Of course you can.”

Soon enough the two of you were sat at the edge of your bed. A noticeably tense atmosphere filled the air. Your eyes were glued to the side of his head, wondering what the hell was going on in that big brain of his, while Spencer looked down at his hands. Which at this point were trembling uncontrollably.

It didn’t take you long to notice, you could practically feel them vibrating against your leg. You reached out, giving them a little squeeze before intertwining your fingers with his.

“What’s going on Spencer? You’re starting to scare me.”

The hazel-eyed man took a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze. His features broken, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“I’ve been lying to you Y/N.” He stated quietly.

You furrowed your brows confused, taken aback by his admission. “W-what? What are you talking about? You’re the most honest man I’ve ever met.” You expressed, but he shook his head. His light curls bouncing perfectly. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Spencer.” “Please Y/N, please just… I… I haven’t been honest with you and it’s eating me alive. Usually you would be the person I turn to for advice on these things, but since it involves you… I-I really don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You nodded your head slowly and swallowed your breath. “O-okay. Okay well, uhm… let me ask you this. If you don’t tell me, are you going to continue lying to me?” It was a weighted question which Spencer knew there was no right answer to. “Unfortunately.” He mumbled.

“Then I think, I think it is that simple.”

You were right. Every inch of him screamed you were right. Fuck. How the hell did it come to this? He had no trouble hiding his love for you these last few years. He couldn’t understand why was it so difficult all of a sudden.

Abruptly, Spencer got to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. A deep frustrated sigh escaping his lips as he loosened his tie. Your uneasy gaze locked onto him, following his every move. And as he closed his eyes, cracking his neck, you suddenly remembered that the last time he seemed this frazzled was the day the two of you broke up. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh no.” You whispered standing up. “Ohh Spencer.”

He turned on his heel to look at you once again. Your fingers were pressed to your chin, mouth slightly parted. You couldn’t possibly have figured it out?

“You’re breaking up with me.” It seemed like a silly statement considering you weren’t a couple. “I mean, you’re ending our friendship. That’s what this is, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore and you’ve been lying to me by pretending that you do.” There were noticeable tears in your eyes.

“What? No, no, no. It’s completely the opposite of that.”

“I don’t think I understand. The opposite of-”

“I love you.”

“Well of course, I love you too. You’re my best friend. You’re family.”

“No.” He took a step towards you and cupped your cheeks with his hands. “I’m in love with you Y/N.”

You blinked. Eyelashes fluttering as the realisation of what Spencer just declared washed over you. He saw your lips quaver and your eyes widen. The dots connecting in your mind. All the moments you spent together, the conversations you shared. Everything was running through your mind like a homemade movie, making it impossible it collect your thoughts.

“I know I said I moved on, and that’s where I lied.” Spencer continued as you stared at him, unable to move. “I never moved on Y/N. I tried, believe me I tried. But you are a part of me, a part of my soul. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Seeing you, your smile. Hearing your laughter. Being able to talk to you, and just be around you. Your aura. Everything about you is so intoxicating and I messed up big time letting you go all those years ago.”

Tears began to trail down your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. Tiny salty droplets that Spencer slowly wiped away using his thumbs.

“I never said anything because I wanted to be there for you, first and foremost, in whatever way you needed me. I wanted to remain in your life after we broke up because your friendship means the world to me. I guess I thought-t, I hoped that maybe one day we’d get back together. And I know it’s unfair for me to lay all of this on you now, I know. And I’m sorry, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You, I think you deserve to know.”

Quiet sobs filled the room. Your whole body was now shaking under his touch. Heart aching. It felt like you couldn't breathe.

All you ever wanted was for Spencer to love you. All you ever wanted was for him to tell you that he made a mistake all those years ago and that the two of you belong together.

“P-please say something.” His plea was barely a whisper.

All you ever wanted.

“I-I.. Spencer, I...”

You finally got all you ever wanted. The brunette doctor was standing in front of you professing his love, and yet it felt like he just stabbed you in the back. His declaration, those three cursed words you dreamt so long ago to hear come out of his lips again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal.

Don't know what to say to you now Standing right in front of you

A/N: FINALLY A LOVE CONFESSION ! honestly this chapter was a little hard for me to write... it took me a while to actually sit down to it and actually be happy with what i wrote idk BUT i hope you liked it and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer rid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #champagne problems series

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thewnchstrs · 3 years

Text

Scarred

Pairing: DeanXReader

Disclaimers: blood, serious injury, graphic description of injury, angst, near-death, mentions of surgery, hospitals, descriptions of scars, fluff, fluffy smut

Word Count: 3.4K

M A S T E R L I S T

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There wasn’t much time to think, ducking behind the low brush as I sank close to the ground. It was chasing me, making a game out of hunting me down. I knew it was screwing with me because If it wanted me dead, it could’ve done so nearly half an hour ago when it spotted me the first time.

I panted, clasping a hand over my mouth trying to keep quiet. I could feel every cut and bruise up and down my arms and legs. The makeshift Molotov cocktails that were once in my hands were now scattered, broken on the forest floor. I silently kicked myself for losing Sam and Dean, for not paying attention when I should’ve been.

The wendigo’s roar pulled me from my pity party, slamming me back into reality. I was running out of options, but I knew there was one last thing I could try, even if it might get me killed. I couldn’t kill it. I couldn’t outrun it. But maybe I could stay hidden long enough for Sam and Dean to find me.

I shoved the gun into the back of my jeans, watching as the wendigo quickly disappeared from one area of the forest to another so fast I hardly had time to keep up with it. My heart pounded, my palms sweating when it was no longer in my line of sight.

An unearthly screech from behind me was what signaled that I’d been found. I didn’t dare look back as I shot up from behind the bushes and began sprinting away from it.

My boots pounded into the wet ground, giving slightly under my weight. I pumped my arms, my breath coming out in short bursts as I listened for the distinct sound of the wendigo close behind me. My entire body begged me to stop. Every muscle, joint, and tendon pleading to take a break, but adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me even further forward.

It felt like I’d been running for an eternity, the entire time praying that I’d run into either Sam or Dean, but now it seemed like I’d run so far I’d never find them all the way out here. My toe struck a short root sticking from the ground, throwing me off balance. I stumbled slightly before regaining my footing but it was just enough for the wendigo to gain traction on me.

I felt the white hot pain as the wendigo sunk its claws into my side, grabbing at my left hip before sliding down all the way to my knee, blood instantly pouring out of the wound. I crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain as I scrambled away but the wendigo reached for me again, this time clawing from the middle of my left side at my waist and down to my hip, taking a large chunk from it.

“Dean!” I screamed, the only name in my head that seemed to click. I screamed his name over and over, even though I knew I was likely to far away from either of them. “Dean!”

I tried crawling faster, digging my hands into the earth, dirt clinging under my fingernails as I tried to go as far as I could, but my vision was already starting to turn black around the edges.

The wendigo’s presence behind me was unmistakable, his heavy footfalls coming from behind me. I pulled myself forward another few inches, as if it would do anything to keep this thing from tearing me apart. I glanced over my shoulder at it, the way it towered over me. Its one hand was coated in my blood and flesh, pieces of me dangling from his fingernails.

I felt my heartbeat slow down slightly, trying to kick myself across the ground now, using my good foot to propel myself forward to no avail. I tried screaming again, tried calling for Dean, but even that would take too much effort. I was dying. There was no doubt about that.

I gripped the ground ahead of me, chunks of wet dirt smooshing between my fingers, giving me absolutely no leverage to get any farther. I paused for a second, hearing the wendigo’s breathing come closer. I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to find the strength to keep going.

The hot orange and red glow of fire engulfing the wendigo was what made me turn weakly, watching it go up in flames over my shoulder. Just the sight was enough for me to fall to my side on the earth in relief, the wet grass cooling my hot cheeks. My breath came out in front of me in a harsh cloud against the cold air.

Two sets of footsteps ran toward me. They were yelling, but I could hardly tell what they were saying. Dean appeared over me first. Dean. I raised my hand up, gently holding his face in my hand, a mixture of mud and blood appearing over his stubble. Sam came next, his eyes wide as he examined my shredded side but I didn’t dare take my eyes away from Dean’s. I smiled softly.

“Sam...her out of here...” Dean said frantically, but his words came in and out. I lolled my head to the side, noticing the pool of blood in the grass that was forming under me.

“That’s a lot of blood, Dean,” I whispered, my words slurring together.

“You’re gonna...alright, okay? You’ll...just fine,” he said hurriedly as he shed his jacket, pressing it tightly against the wound. I let out a guttural scream, tilting my head so I was screaming into my arm. “...sorry...Sam’s calling...on their way.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, dark spots dancing in my vision. I gripped Dean’s arm with everything I had, even though I knew it probably didn’t feel like much.

“I was so scared, Dean,” I whispered to him, but he was so frantic trying to stop the bleeding he didn’t hear me. “You saved me.” He pressed the jacket tightly over my side again, but it didn’t hurt as bad this time.

He said something else, smoothing my hair away from my face. I was able to hold my eyes open just long enough to see Sam come into view, taking over where Dean had been.

“Stay...me, okay?” Dean’s voice filtered through. “...eyes open...okay?...do that? Can you...for me?”

I nodded slowly, hearing the distant sounds of sirens wailing, bright lights filling the edge of the forest. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between then and when a medic stood over me, shining a flashlight into my eyes. All I knew is that I must’ve dozed off because Sam and Dean were no longer at my side but standing above me. Two other medics came into my view, frantically talking between each other.

They were saying something about blood loss, something about severe damage. I couldn’t process it, my eyes becoming heavier.

“...focus...me okay?” Dean’s voice came again. I could only move my eyes now, slowly dragging them over to him. “Focus...my voice...ignore...medics, you’re fine...safe...stay with...focus on me.”

I tried, God, I tried to focus on Dean. But when the medics lifted me up onto the gurney, my vision blacked.

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

My eyes felt glued shut as I tried to pry them open, instantly regretting it once a sliver of light passed through my eyelids. I shut them again, groaning slightly. Then, I heard a shuffle, the sound of a chair being dragged over linoleum floors.

A hand slid into mine, fingers slotting perfectly against it. I tested my strength, giving an experimental squeeze that only resulted in the ever-slightest twitch of my fingers.

A quiet breath of relief was pushed out of the person next to me, the presence I’d know from anywhere. Dean squeezed lightly back, “Take your time, Y/N.”

It felt like years before I was able to fully open my eyes. I blinked against the dimmed overhead lights, even that was too much. Instead, I turned over to where Dean was sitting on the side of my bed, smiling softly.

“Hi Dean,” I whispered, trying out my voice. I winced at the way it sounded, so gravely and rough. Dean instantly reached for the water next to him, holding it so I could drink through the bendy straw.

I let my head fall back against the soft pillows, letting the water soothe my throat. For the first time, I noticed the tightness of my left side. I rested a hand over it, feeling the wrapping that covered my midsection and extended all the way down to my knee.

The events of that night slowly came back to me in short waves, and then all at once. I remembered every ounce of pain, remembered feeling the blood as it pooled out of me.

Dean seemed to sense my recognition, squeezing my hand tighter, “You’re okay. Helluva lot of stitches, but...” He paused, his façade faltering as he shook his head, averting his gaze. “You scared the hell out of me, Y/N.”

I watched him, tears filling his eyes. I knew he hated when I saw him like this, so torn up. I held back my own tears, “How many?”

Dean looked at me now, confused, “What?”

“How many stitches?” I asked. “Enough to make me look like Frankenstein?”

Dean let out a short laugh, bringing his hand over his mouth as he nodded, “Yeah...a hot Frankenstein.”

I smiled, “It’ll be a badass scar though, right?”

He nodded again, his eyes searching my face as if if he didn’t, he’d forget what I looked like. We silently watched each other, neither of us having to say a word. We knew the kinds of dangers this life dragged us through. We knew the stakes with every hunt, every monster we took on, even if we’ve faced them countless times.

However, that realization, the reality that slammed into us whenever one of us was hurt, inches from death, was a lesson that never really stuck very well with any of us. We knew it was bound to happen, but when it actually did, it flipped our lives on their heads.

Dean leaned forward, kissing me softly the way he had millions of times before, but this felt different. Desperate and relieved and terrified all in one. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, just feeling him there. We were together again, and for now, we were okay.

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I eyed the scar in the mirror, twisting every which way in an attempt to view it from every angle. My fingers danced over the still upturned skin, and even though the stitches had been taken out weeks ago, I could still see where they’d been punctured through my skin.

My eyes traveled from the bottom where the scar ended right above my left knee, following the jagged line up until it disappeared behind the material of my shorts before reappearing above the waistband and up toward the middle of my side.

Multiple tendons and ligaments had to be repaired, making for one nasty scar. Actually, nasty wasn’t a word to describe the monstrosity. It was hideous. It wasn’t clean and badass looking like I remember asking Dean. It was jagged, rugged, thicker in some spots and narrower in the rest. The skin was raised as if there was something hidden just beneath the surface.

To top it all off, I could hardly walk in a straight line. I depended on the crutch that I now had resting on the wall in front of me. I scoffed, shaking my head. A hunter who can’t even walk.

I was pulling my shirt back down when the bedroom door creaked open slightly. I glanced through the mirror where Dean poked his head in, smirking, “Whatcha doin’?”

I glanced back down at the scar, “Checking out the new addition.” Dean came deeper into the room, standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his head next to mine as we looked into the mirror together. “It’s gross, Dean.”

Dena furrowed his brow, “What?”

I huffed, sliding from between his arms before sitting carefully on the end of the bed. It’d taken days for me to even be able to sit up, even that was a chore now. He sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Never mind, it’s stupid,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

Dean scooted closer, “Hey, what’s going on? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I knew that. Of course I did. I looked over to Dean, his eyes full of concern as he watched me. I clenched my jaw, looking down at the relentless scar.

Dean followed my line of sight, his face falling before his eyes came back up to mine, “Is it about this?” I bit my inner cheek, nodding slowly. “Y/N...you know what happened wasn’t your fault, right? You didn’t see it coming, it’s okay.”

I shook my head, lacing my fingers through his, “It’s not about that, Dean, it’s...it’s the scar.”

He blinked twice, confused, “The scar?”

“It’s...it’s ugly, Dean,” I said, starting to feel silly about how much it was affecting me. “Every time I look in the mirror it’s all I see.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, using his fingers to tilt my chin up until I was looking him in the eyes. His eyes. The ones that made me melt the first time I saw him and the ones that always looked at me with so much love. They didn’t look any different now. “You really think that?”

I nodded, “It’s true.”

“It’s not true,” he said instantly.

“I just...I thought that when you saw it, you wouldn’t...” I hesitated. “It’s just, you always talk about how beautiful I am, but, now I don’t feel beautiful anymore. I was scared you wouldn’t think I was.”

His face contorted into confusion as he lightly held my arms, “Y/N...you can’t be serious. Baby, you’re beautiful. A scar ain’t gonna change that.”

I looked down at his hands, noticing now the tiny scars crossing in lines over his arms and hands and the litany of them that I knew decorated the rest of his body. I loved his, why couldn’t I love my own?

“Hey,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes momentarily before opening them again. “Forget about the scar, alright? I love you, no matter what.”

I nodded slowly, my eyes darting down to his lips. I leaned forward, my hands coming to rest on his jaw. He leaned into it, resting his hand on my lower back, bringing me closer to him.

His movements were slow as he began kissing down my jaw, moving the hair away from my shoulder. I let out a deep breath, feeling his lips travel down my skin. Between surgery and the healing process coupled with the insecurity of being naked around anyone other than myself, it’s been months since we’ve done anything.

He looked back up at me, his eyes darting down to my lips as he leaned in again, the kiss deeper this time. I moaned against him, tugging at his shirt, snaking my hands under the material and pulling it over his head.

Dean pulled away from the kiss momentarily, his pupils blown wide, “Lay down.”

He slowly guided me to lay against the pillows, careful of the still-healing wound as he situated my leg comfortably on the bed, “Is that okay?”

I hummed in approval and he smiled, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it behind him. I ran my hands over his stubbled jaw, “Missed this.”

“Me too, baby,” he said as he lowered himself down my body, keeping eye contact with me the whole way down. I watched in confusion when he stopped at my sternum, his eyes now dancing over the scar on my left side. I instantly felt embarrassed, like I wanted to crawl into myself. However, Dean laid a soft kiss to the top of the scar. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

I swallowed roughly, my anxiety peaking as he continued to kiss down the long scar before gently pulling the material of my shorts away, revealing the worst of it. It was the huge gash taken out of my hip he was staring down at now. But instead of turning away like I thought he would, he peppered it with kisses, too.

“You’ve never looked so beautiful,” he hummed, continuing all the way down to where the scar ended just above my knee before turning, his head shifting until he was kissing up my inner thighs. I held my breath as he made it closer to my folds, pushing my underwear aside. Dean smirked up at me before slowly pulling the underwear down and away. He leaned forward again, flattening his tongue against my entrance. I gasped, my hand immediately going to his hair.

“Dean,” I breathed out, shoving my head farther back into the pillows, raising my hips to meet his mouth but he slung his arms over them, keeping me still.

He hummed as he took my clit between his lips, sucking gently. The vibrations made my body tense, my breath coming out in harsh pants. Dean’s hands ran softly up my sides, holding my waist, “Relax, baby.” I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders fall and my muscles loosen.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tongue darting in and out of me slowly.

“Dean...Dean, please. Need you inside me, Dean,” I panted, knowing I wouldn’t last much longer like this.

“What’s the rush?” He asked, smirking against my thighs. His hands were wrapped around them now, pulling them gently apart. “Wanna make you feel good. Show you how beautiful you are. Wanna feel you come like this first. Come for me, baby.”

It was all I needed as Dean returned his lips to my clit. My orgasm washed over me, filling every inch of my body. Dean rode me through it, licking up every last bit of what I had to offer him.

I fell back against the bed after the high had passed, smiling lazily at Dean who slowly made his way back up toward me, his hands on either side of my head. He dipped down, kissing me gently. I could taste myself on him, mixed with the taste of him. His dick pressed against my thigh through his sweatpants. I gripped his upper arms before bringing my hand between us, palming his cock through the material of his pants.

He groaned, burying his head in my neck before kissing me again. Dean pulled away from the kiss, his green eyes so bright in the dimly lit room, “You ready?” He whispered.

I nodded quickly and he slid his pants and boxers off, his hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. I breathed picked up speed, running my hands up his face as he slowly began to enter me, inch by inch. I let my mouth fall open, Dean’s lips going to my neck until he was fully inside. His movements were slow as he thrusted, his breath ghosting over my skin before coming back up to my lips.

Our breath from our panting mixed with each other, our foreheads touching but our lips just inches from each other. It wasn’t often that the sex was like this, slow and meticulous.

It wasn’t long before my second orgasm began to build. My nails scratched up and down Dean’s back, letting out soft moans as he began to pick up the speed slightly.

“I’m close, Dean,” I moaned, choking on his name as he rolled his hips.

“Yeah, c’mon, baby. Come for me again,” he said as he kissed down the side of my neck again.

My entire body tensed around him as my orgasm washed over me. My body shook as I clutched Dean’s arms. Dean leaned forward, lightly biting the skin on my shoulder, stifling his moans as his hips stuttered. I felt him twitch before he came, exploding inside me.

We panted, not moving from our position for several seconds until Dean carefully slid out. I groaned at the loss of fullness, scooting over to the edge of the bed so Dean could lay down next to me.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. I listened to his stuttering heartbeat, fluttering against my cheek. I glanced up at him where he was already looking down at me. I pressed my lips to his one more time.

“I love you, Dean.”

“Love you, too.”

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@mccartneywinchester | @resanoona | @blackglitteroldsoul

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

Text

Demon Alya submission (starts off angsty, gets fluffy at the end) made by Anon

Alya hissed with pain and strained to get up, but the magic sigils which had been chalked around her blazed with a strange pale light and her body slammed back to the hard cement floor. Her tail lashed back and forth wildly, hard enough that it hurt when its tip smacked against the wall, and her wings beat futilely to break out of the iron bindings that bent then flat against her back. “You sure we can’t work this out?” she asked in the best ‘temptation’ voice she could muster despite her pain. “I can give you power, wealth, fame…”

“I need no fame, demon scum,” boomed the exorcist who had bound her. He was an older man whose hair was going silver and who wore what looked like a cross between a priest’s cassock and a military uniform. He had a sword at his side whose blade was carved with holy sigils, and a few other exorcist accoutrements hung off his belt. Now he raised a book high while his eyes, which seemed almost to be trying to bulge out of his head, fixated on her. “All I need is the knowledge that you shall be destroyed forever, as God intended!”

Alya bit back a curse. She was still mad at herself for letting this guy get the jump on her, but by the time she’d realized that she was being followed, he was close enough to use some kind of magic spell to make her pass out. She’d awoken in what looked like a cheap basement, with a cement floor and bare plaster on the walls, and with sigils and iron bonds preventing her from escaping. “You can’t destroy me forever,” she snapped. “You might be able to banish me back to Hell, but I’ll be back on Earth eventually.”

Of course, that wasn’t a great scenario for Alya. Not only would she get in trouble for losing a fight with an exorcist, and not only would she fall behind on her soul quota, but her classmates wouldn’t know where she’d gone. It would be just like she’d abandoned them. And Alya couldn’t bear to think of how sad Juleka would be if Alya cut and run, or the rest of her cult, or… or Marinette. Alya knew Marinette would be devastated, and she desperately wanted that not to happen, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

Then the man laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little depraved beast? You’d love to be able to turn and wreck havoc once more. But I’ve found a way around it!” He tossed a little voodoo doll next to Alya. “I will bind your spiritual essence to this doll, then burn it. As the doll crumbles in the flame your spiritual essence will be split asunder. When I’m done you’ll be little more than millions of tiny bits of demon, each tied to a tiny bit of ash, and that ash scattered to the winds.” He grinned. “It could take thousands of years for the bindings to weaken enough for you to reconstitute yourself and even begin trying to regain a corporal form. And seeing as how you’ll be in utter agony the entire time, I highly doubt you’ll be sane enough to tempt any more innocents into your clutches!”

Alya gasped. What the man proposed might actually work, and would subject her to millennia of torture. And worse than that… by the time she put herself back together, her classmates would have been dead for millennia. She’d never see them again unless they went to Hell. And she’d never see Marinette, period, because that girl was so pure she’d surely get rushed right to Heaven the moment she died.

She’d never see her best friend again.

“You can’t do this!” Alya said, almost ashamed of how terrified her voice was but not being able to help it. “Please!”

“Silence, demon scum,” said the exorcist. “All your kind deserve this.” He began to chant, and Alya cried out in pain as she felt her essence being pulled towards the doll. She tried to fight it—

And then the door to the basement smashed open.

By the time Alya realized what was happening, she saw Rose—holding a flaming sword, wings spread to their full length, halo blazing such a righteous fire above her head that Alya could barely look at it—looming over the man, whom had been knocked into the wall and slid down. “YOU DON’T DO THIS!” screamed Rose in genuine rage. “EVER!”

The man stared at Rose in terrified shock. Rose glared at him, then turned to Alya and swung her sword at the sigils. They burst into a bright flash of light and vanished as soon as her holy blade touched them, and Alya was able to scrambled out of the former circle. A couple quick, careful strokes of Rose’s sword sliced the iron bindings from Alya’s back, and she sighed with relief as she stretched her wings.

“What are you doing?“ the man demanded. “Don’t free her! You are an angel, you must support our battles against demons. They are evil beasts who tempt others, so it is right that we hurt them! That we banish them and make them suffer all the pain they have inflicted—“

“IT IS NOT YOURS TO JUDGE!” screamed Rose loud enough that the man flinched back. She took an angry breath and said, “If a demon is doing something bad, then it is permissible to oppose that demon. I have opposed demons who were about to hurt or damn someone. But Alya was doing nothing, and even if she was, ‘opposing’ does not mean ‘torturing!’” She took a step closer and raised her sword. “The job of a holy warrior is never to inflict pain for the sake of doing so! To never do more damage than necessary to fight evil, to always show mercy where possible and encourage others to repent!” The fire on her blade blazed higher. “YOU ARE NO PALADIN!” she went on, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “YOU ARE JUST A KILLER, AND—“

Alya hesitated, feeling on one hand that she really wanted to see this guy get absolutely thrashed by Rose, but knowing on the other she had an obligation to her friend. “Woah, woah, hold it,” said Alya as she quickly grabbed Rose’s hand to stop her from stabbing the exorcist. “He’s defeated, okay? You don’t need to kill him.”

“But he tried to kill you!” Rose said through teary-eyes. “You’re one of my best friends—“

“And I’m here to remind you that the stuff you said about you guys not being supposed to do more damage than needed applies to you too.” Alya bit her lip and looked at the exorcist who was now trembling with fear, his glee at his earlier successful tortures of Alya having seemingly already been forgotten. “Look, Rose, even if you can get away with killing the guy and not Fall or be stripped of your angelic status, you’ll still hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

The exorcist stared at Alya with bewildered eyes. “You are a demon!” he rasped. “You want her to Fall! I know it! All demons want angels to Fall!”

Alya frowned. “She’s my friend,” she snapped. “That’s more important the feud between our bosses.”

Rose was still standing with her blade raised. “But he hurt you,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful, and he hurt you, and I can’t just let that go.”

“Who said anything about letting it go?” Alya said. “Like, he tried to torture me to death. That’s really evil, so I’m pretty sure his soul’ll go to us when he dies, and that means we’ll have all eternity to get back at him.” Unless he repented and went to Heaven in the end, Alya thought, and if he did… well, that would be a bummer. She really wanted to get her claws at this guy. But she’d rather let this guy have that chance than have Rose kill him right there and suffer regret for it every day after for all her eternal life. “And even setting that aside, I can get the guy in jail with my Whisper powers. That way we know he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Rose was still hesitating, so Alya gently helped her lower the sword. “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Finally, still trembling with rage and sorrow, Rose let Alya escort her out of the basement.

###

It only took Alya about ten minutes to jail the guy. She was quite skilled with Whisper, the power of demons to, well, whisper evil or hurtful thoughts into the minds of unsuspecting mortals. During her training she had learned how to convince humans that everyone hated them and was only pretending to befriend them out of pity, or that their spouse was cheating on them, or that—whatever the priest at church said—they really had done something beyond forgiveness and so might as well go forth and sin some more.

Now, though, Alya used that power to Whisper into the fanatic’s head. “There are demons everywhere!” she whispered. “In that trash can! On that curb! On top of that police car! If you don’t fight them, they’ll destroy Paris!”

The fanatic raved and ran around, swinging his sword wildly at the demons his mind convinced him were all around him. That, of course, led to police officers swarming and tackling him. Alya smiled as she watched Roger Raincomprix bundle him into his police car and take him away, saying something about asylums and institutionalization. “He won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” she said. Then she turned to Rose. “How did you find me?”

“You didn’t show up for that thing you were doing with Juleka,” Rose said. Both girls were hiding their spiritual forms and looked fully human, but Alya got the sense that if Rose’s wings had been visible they would have been curling around her like a cocoon. “She got worried and used a spell from your library to track you down. I was closer so I got to your first, but she’ll probably be here soon too.”

“I should text her to let her know I’m alright,” Alya noted. She took her phone, which the fanatic had left in a corner of the basement and which Alya had reclaimed, and sent a message to Juleka. “Want to get home?”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over losing your temper,” she said. “It happens to all of us.”

“Sure.” Rose shrugged. “Uh huh.”

Alya paused. Clearly, she thought, Rose needed more help. And now that Alya was out of her bonds and was back in action, she was just the girl to help her. “Anyways, I’m going back to my place, and you’re coming too,” she announced.

Rose blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said, we’re going to my place,” Alya announced. “Come on, Rose. You saved my life and I owe you one. Let’s get going.”

Rose clearly didn’t know what was going on, but she smiled a little and let herself be dragged along.

###

When the pair got back to Alya’s apartment, they dropped their guises and Alya sighed as she flopped back in her bed. “I never thought I’d see this bed again,” she murmured. “I didn’t think I’d see you, or Juleka, or… or Marinette again either.” She shut her eyes, knowing how badly she would have been hurt to never see the adorable fashion designer, and also knowing how much pain Marinette would have been in if Alya had just vanished. “Thank you again, Rose.”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya got Rose over to the couch and settled down with her. “Why are you still sad?” she asked.

Rose hesitated, and Alya said, “If you don’t want to share it with me, that’s fine. We can just rest here; I’ll put on some cartoons or something until we both feel better. But if you’re sad, you can talk to me.”

It took a few moments for Rose to say something, during which time she slumped over and snuggled against Alya. One of her wings tickled Alya’s nose and she sneezed, which made Rose giggle. Then Rose cuddled deeper against Alya and said, “Am I a bad angel?”

“No way!” Alya said. “You’re awesome at what you do, and I’m saying that even though what you do makes it harder to me to tempt souls a lot of the time.”

Rose smiled at that. “But I almost didn’t save you,” she said. “And I almost murdered that guy after he was already defeated.”

“You did save me in the end, which is what counts,” Alya said. “You did your job. And while you got mad at the fanatic, you didn’t kill him.” She paused. “We’ve never had an all-out fight, so I can’t say for sure what would have happened if you’d tried to break my grip and kill the guy, but based on what I know of you I think you could probably have thrown me aside and killed the fanatic if you really wanted to do so. You didn’t, so you knew on some level killing him was wrong.”

“Right, but I still want him to suffer for what he did to you,” said Rose. “And I’m not supposed to. Angels aren’t supposed to hate, even when we’re fighting evil.”

“I’m not exactly an expert on what you guys believe,” Alya said slowly. “Since we demons and devils have a different system. But I think I read somewhere that your boss is really big on forgiveness and understands that everyone screws up sometimes. I don’t think He’d want you beating yourself up like this, and I think He’d be satisfied with how you saved the victim—me—and didn’t do any more damage to the guy once he wasn’t a threat anymore.”

Rose mulled that over for a few moments. “You really think so?”

“Sure,” said Alya. “Besides, any God who would get mad at you over—what, yelling a bit after stopping a torturer?—wouldn’t be a God worth worshipping.”

“Don’t say that about God,” murmured Rose, but she sounded a lot calmer. “That makes sense, though. Thanks, Alya.”

“Happy to help.” Alya gingerly scratched at the base of Rose’s wings, and she sighed in contentment.

“You know,” said Rose after a few moments of that, “You’d make a good angel.”

Alya jolted in shock at that, and Rose laughed. “Don’t say that!” Alya feebly protested. “Seriously, I—I would not want that job. I don’t like the idea that I’d have to be nice all the time because my boss demanded it. I like what I am, where I have the freedom to be how I want.” She realized she was blushing and tried to make herself stop. “Besides, I’m not that nice in general,” she went on. “You’re an exception.”

“Nah,” said Rose. “You’re nice. If you wanted to be an angel you’d be great at it.” She chuckled, and then she asked, “But I’m curious about one thing. That guy said that demons want angels to Fall, but you worked really hard to stop me from Falling today. Was that just because we’re friends, or do you oppose angels falling in general?”

Alya didn’t know why, but she was blushing again. “Uh,” she began. “Look, I’m all about freedom. That’s why I like my side of things in the first place. I think you should have freedom too, and if I thought you really, truly wanted to Fall, then I would offer my help to you—you know, finding some sin for you to commit that wouldn’t do anything too bad or hurt anyone you didn’t want to suffer—so you could live as you wished. But I know you, and I know that in your heart you don’t want to do anything so bad that you Fall. You like being a holy angel warrior for God. You love being able to spread blessings and help usher souls into eternal bliss. And if that’s your choice, I want to help you maintain it. Because we’re friends.”

The idea of friendship was still a new one to Alya, who of course came from a place where there was no such thing as friendship, where everyone was out for themselves and anyone dumb enough to admit to weakness would find that weakness mercilessly exploited by classmates, neighbors, and random strangers. But now that she was in the human world, she had friends, and she found that she liked it. (Granted, she had to keep her friendships hidden from her bosses—especially her friendship with Rose—but she was a demon and deceit came naturally to her, so that wasn’t too hard.)

Rose smiled gently. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she said.

The two stayed still for a few moments before Rose reluctantly raised herself up. “I guess I should go,” she said. “I’m sure you and Juleka need to do whatever you were planning on doing before you got abducted.”

“We were just planning on watching some fun anime and having some snacks,” said Alya. Then, as if on cue, she heard a knock on the door and grinned. “It’s open!” she called. Then she turned to Rose and said, “When I texted her earlier, I told her to get back to my place so we could resume our plans. That must be her now.”

Rose tried to get up, but Alya wrapped her tail around Rose and tugged her back down. “I don’t want to get in the way,” Rose said quickly. “I’ll leave.”

“No, you’ll join us,” corrected Alya. “Because this is my room, so I can invite who I want, and I want you here. Because this is my cult, so Juleka has to do what I say, and I say you get to stay.” Her eyes twinkled. “And because I know you and Juleka love spending time together, and so since you also had kind of a rough day, a little time with your favorite paladin and my favorite priestess is just what Dr. Alya ordered.”

Rose grinned at that.

Then Juleka entered the room carrying a bag. As soon as her gaze fell upon Rose she smiled brightly, and Rose returned that smile. “Alright,” Juleka said. “I’ve got the DVD for that anime you told me to find, ‘Kill La Kill,’ and your snacks.” She took some cups out of the bag. “Three hot chocolates—one with cinnamon, because I know that’s your favorite, Rose—some microwave popcorn, and pastries from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” She paused. “Marinette told me she’ll be free in an hour or so. Would you want me to invite her?”

“Sure!” said Alya at once. She’d have to hide her demon form once Marinette arrived, of course, but it would be worth it to hang out with the fashion designer. Marinette always seemed to brighten up any room. “And thanks for helping Rose save me with the tracking spell. I owe you one.”

Juleka waved that off. “It’s a friend thing,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Such a sentence was something Alya would never, ever have heard in the demon world. Debts there were jealously maintained. But she liked this way, she found… even if she did intend on finding some way to reward Juleka for saving her life. “Sure,” she said to change the subject. “But I still appreciate it. Anyway, what kind of pastries did you get?”

“Angel food cake for Rose, lemon cake for me, and chili-chocolate cake for you,” said Juleka as she passed out the treats. Rose sniffed her cake and sighed at how wonderful it smelled. “I’ll pop in the DVD and then we can start the show.”

Juleka did so and then sat on Rose’s other side. Rose grinned and spread her wings wide enough to give partial hugs to both Alya and Juleka, and Alya’s tail flicked a bit before running against the other two girls’ backs. Rose giggled. “That tickles!” she said.

“Sorry,” drawled Alya. She bit into the delicious cake and grinned. Chili and chocolate was a hard combination to get right, but the Dupain-Cheng family were masters, and the cake was absolutely perfect. “My bad.”

“You’re not sorry,” said Juleka lightly. “That’s a lie.”

“Well, lying’s a sin,” chirped Alya. “And as a demon, that’s kind of my thing.”

Both of the other girls laughed, and then Rose draped her arms as well as her wings around the other two. Juleka hit the button on the remote and the show started.

Alya sighed, her pains from earlier almost completely forgotten as she relaxed with her friends. The human world was good, she thought. She was very glad she hadn’t been kicked out of it. And she’d try to stay in it—and be with the people she cared about, including the wonderful angel and the amazing human currently sitting on her couch—for as long as she could.

———

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

GO ROSE

I like how its been decided that between Rose and Alya theres a bad cop and good cop dynamic going on

Alya is the good cop

#submission #demon alya au

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strangerobin · 3 years

Text

Rue: Chapter 1 (A Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Summary:

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

A chance encounter reunites two lost lovers centuries after their devastating break up. One hardened by life and providence, has forgotten what it is to love and be loved; while the other though hurt by love, has lost neither hope nor heart. When the two worlds collide once again, will it be disaster waiting to happen, or the brink of a new horizon?

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

But you know that I could never stay.

No amount of love or the ring you put on my finger will ever change that.

Save it. Save it for another that will be dearest to your heart, someone who could love you equally, unconditionally, honestly.

For I am underserving. I have much in my life that I wish I could explain to you. Yet this back has been carrying far more that it was made to shoulder already. And I cannot possibly burden you with anymore than you deserve.

So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.

To spend a lifetime with you.

Body and soul.

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying in futile to calm the anguish that was threatening to leak out of his body.

For a moment, he thought his dead heart was ready to burst anytime. But of course his heart had long since ceased its beating, and It had only left with him an equally terrible sense of emptiness.

Why had he decided to go over this again? To rip open scars that were long buried. Old memories that he should long have concealed, lost somewhere in the ocean of his long pitiful existence. He thought he’d be over this by now, after the millionth time. But clearly some things never truly die away.

With care he produced from a small velvet pouch-

A single diamond ring.

It glittered under the moon, splaying the light of a million rainbow everywhere it touched.

Just like how her eyes had shone that day.

When he got down on one knee and proposed to her.

Her mouth agape, lips quivering, staring at him in shock and disbelief. His stomach had churned then when she had simply stood there, dumbfounded; worried that he had taken a wrong move, that she did not love him enough to want to be tied down with him. That perhaps he was still too young, too poor to offer her the life that she deserved.

But then a single tear had dropped from her eyes.

And it was followed by another, and another.

He was thrown in a panic by then, unsure of the mistake he had committed but ready to make any amend just to stop the onslaught of her tears.

Except she had then tackled him to the ground, laughing amidst her tears. Murmuring into his ears, the answer that had only mattered to him.

Yes, yes, yes.

She had kissed him so ferociously that day, stealing his breath away as if she herself would be stolen away the next moment.

A thousand times yes.

And stolen she was indeed.

Left alone in the cold morning light, sheets crumpled from the night they had shared, her scent still lingering in the air. His heart had froze, left with only an emptiness that would rage within him for the next two centuries.

She had only left with him a note and her wedding ring.

Hers. Not his; because he could not tolerate the thought of it being anything else.

And an everlasting memory that would haunt him for the rest of eternity. An aching want and need, a desire left unsaid in the dead of the night.

In those terrible formative years, when he had just been turned, night after nights he would imagine the ghost of a lip, tracing up his spine. Warm breaths at his neck; the touch of a hand, cupping his face gently, as if he were made of glass. Sweet-nothings whispered, empty promises of a life that could have been, might have been. Except none of them were real and every one of which only a figment of his imagination and memory.

Some night he would go on a killing spree, desperate to escape from memories of her that had long since turned into a never-ending nightmare, his raging storm of emotions.

A century and a half later, there were still nights like these, nights where he would meticulously finger the exquisite cravings over her engagement ring. Her name a silent mantra, a prayer from his mouth to the gods he had once worshipped and forsaken.

The pain had dampen over the years but the scars had remained. And the memories still fresh. New companionship may have eased him out of his shell of sorrow. But while he may hold another in his arms now, how could he love anyone in half? When he had long since given away half of his soul to the one who had claimed as hers on that fateful day.

But that was another story for another day.

And his pitiful being could not bear the grief all at once on any given nights; it was alright to remember in portions and halves. That way he would not lose his mind to the remembrance of her then. The one he had lost but must continue to solider on without.

“Oh Adeline.”

“My sweet Adeline, why must you torture me so?”

On the run.

It seemed she was always on the run these days.

No permanent roof ever above her head; even the feeling of a soft pillow and a down quilt seemed foreign to her now. She was more familiar with green moss beneath her head and the stars as her canopy; clothes she snagged from stores, and meals of little preys here and there now. She was always careful not to leave a trace.

Stopping over at the riverbed to cleanse her dusty face; she mulled over her circumstances.

Family they- he, her father had called her.

And yet it was also him who made her life a living hell.

Always asking, always demanding for a hand, a chore to be done, her duties to him as her father, mentor, creator. And when she could not tolerate his iron fist of a control, she did the only thing she was good at.

She ran.

Companionship. Father had told her once. No one can live for long without companionship.

She would’ve proved him wrong then. Scoffed at him. Told him that creatures like them did not deserve anything but misery, and least of all a hint of humanity. Only humans crave company; they had sinned far too much to be deserving of any.

How much blood must be spilled, to satisfy his want for his so called companionships?

But even at times, she had been tempted. A short stay in a town, a job, an education, a short fling. Mindless chatters, a warm embrace to fall asleep to at night. Anything to make herself forget just for awhile how different she was, how she could never blend in with anyone. How over the years she had lost so much, she thought she might as well have lost her heart.

Except her strange family. Whom she completely despised. Mostly.

Ah how she missed those good old days. That one summer when everything was golden and life was simple; the scorching Texan sun, the swaying wheat fields, the straw thatch cottage and its warm hearth and Hettie’s hearty soups, Ralph’s incessant chatter. And those gentle brown eyes and that mop of flaxen hair, shining like golden peat in the summer sun-

She would not let her mind wander there now.

Lock the doors and throw away the key.

She needed to stay vigilant. Her family were not the only ones she was running from. There were more dangerous and mysterious beings out there, ones she did not dare cross. Every little shift in the air, whiff of smell was a signal to her instinct. Even a falling leave could be a sign of the things to come. And right now they were telling her to head north, pass the borders, and into the Canada. There would be ample food and her family would not think to look for her there. In time, she might be able to join a small community, live a life for a little while before moving on to the next.

Keep inland, you’ll be safe. Her instinct whispered.

But she wanted to see the ocean. And the Pacific Northwest coast was a marvel. She knew of a coven near the peninsula; but surely if she stayed to herself, she should be able to cross into Vancouver without a hitch?

Keep inland.

Her instinct only whispered on.

It was the scent she came across first.

The sweet invigorating smell of vanilla and washed linen, that of a babe’s. She froze unnaturally amidst her stroll; this was not the scent of a human, it was… it reminded her of her siblings. Of her kind.

Turnawayturnawayturnaway-

But curiosity got the better of her.

Surely, just surely, a glimpse would not hurt. There shouldn’t be any out there like her. None of the old kinds had the knowledge of… Father had confirmed of this. Or was he mistaken?

And as she tracked the child’s scent; she came into a large clearing of blooming heathers, yet not even the overwhelming floral scent could overpower the child’s scent.

There in the gleaming sun was a child of twelve or thirteen, bronze curls flowing in the air as she twirled around in peals of laughter. Her porcelain skin illuminated; and her heart was thrumming like a little hummingbird.

‘It cannot be.’ She whispered to herself in a daze.

Gasping, the child turned towards her at once, clearly finally discovering that she was alone no more. Initially agitated, the child was quick to drop her caution when she noted how the stranger was still in a trance, staring agape at her. Nor did she miss the equally alluring scent of the intruder, her soft glowing skin and the quick humming of her heart.

Timidly, the child shuffled towards her eyeing her with curiosity. Until the two were face to face each other, apprising the other.

“Are you perhaps…” Like me? Was the unvoiced question.

“Dear God, Child.” She finally found the strength within to muster a few shaky breaths of words, disbelief evidently dominating her countenance. “How is this possible?”

With shaking hands she cupped the child’s cheeks, tenderly stroking the smoothness of her cheeks and soaking up the warmth.

“What of your maker?” She swallowed thickly. “Is he treating you well, Child?”

“Do you mean my Mum and Dad, Miss?” The child furrowed her pretty brows. “They should be just around I think. If you would like to meet them…”

That broke her out of her trance and she immediately straightened her stance. This was dangerous, she was treading on thin ice. A child like her kind would not be left unguarded, her guardians were nearby and no doubt treasured her greatly, judging from her clean attire and priciness of her garments. Any contact would be deemed a threat. She had already overstayed her welcome. And she did not want a fight. Sure she was quick and escaping and hiding had always been a forte of hers, but should she engage in battle, there was no telling if she could even gain upper hand long enough for her to run.

“I must go.” She muttered gravely to the child.

“Wait Miss!” The child chirped in a sing-song manner, unaware of the gravity of the situation. “I’m sure Mum and Dad will be delighted to meet you! And grandpa he-“

Shit. Was this the coven Father had mentioned before?

The idea of meeting an entire coven made her stomach churn. She did not quite understand how the child had come to be, nor did she understand how the Volturi would allow such a coven to exist in plain sight. And she did not intend to find out.

“Child. Child!” She hissed, surveying her surrounding in caution now. “Listen, you must take care. There are people out there who will harm you without a thought or a blink. You must be careful, don’t be so trustworthy of any strangers now.”

She looked the child dead in the eye then.

“Not even me.”

“But you didn’t hurt me! I know you wouldn’t! And aren’t we the same?” The child pleaded imploringly.

“No, not even your kind. And certainly not me.” She smoothed the child’s hair gently and tucked them behind her ear. “Trust no one. Not even your makers.”

“That’s just sad then.” The child replied solemnly.

She stood up and straightened her jacket. “Well, it's a sad and pitiful existence that we lead, Child.” She smiled bitterly then and turned to go. “One day you’ll know.”

She was just about to run when she felt a tuck at her sleeves. Turning sharply, she eyed the child in confusion.

“My name’s Renesmee, Miss. What’s yours?”

She grimaced slightly; well so much for telling the child off, she mused.

“Adeline, my name’s Adeline, Child.”

In hindsight, Adeline really should have seen the attack coming. Her instincts had been screaming at her the whole time after all.

But in a moment of distraction, she had heeded her instincts too late. She did manage to subdue the attack at her jugular with a block, but was still hurled halfway across the clearing. Twisting her body, she managed to land in a crouch; eyes trained on her attacker. He was a strong built man- vampire, tall and handsome, the usual package. And she was surprised to find his eyes golden, not that there was much time to marvel at it. His crouching stance indicated that he was ready for battle and he bared his fangs at her, guarding his child protectively

“Stay away from my daughter.” He growled.

Adeline couldn’t help but rolled her eyes. “That, I had every intention of doing.”

“Stop! Dad! Stop!” She could hear the child- Renesmee crying in the distance. But there was no time for that now.

Leftleftleftleftleft-

Turning to her left, she kicked a pouncing werewolf right in the gut, slamming it into a nearby tree. Right. And then threw a punch at the female vampire that was ready to lunge at her right. Down. Blocked another blow. Shoulder. Landed a hit on shoulder of the she-vampire. Duck. Barely escaped from the wolf’s pouncing attack. Roll. And managed to withdraw herself from the fighting two.

With a final glance at the father and child; Adeline focused her mind in concealing herself before darting out of the clearing.

Promising to herself to avoid the Pacific Northwest at all cost from now on. Wary of the rest of the coven she would find there.

Not to mention the wolves.

And that was how Adeline came across the Cullens for the very first time.

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #angst #more angst

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH3

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 3: Resurrection Overture (III)

Qi Leren stood in front of the door that had once made him beyond salvation.

After the huge stone door, Maria’s sword was held high and the black dragon was crucified. Seven days ago, there was a former friend sitting on the throne that belonged to the Pope, smiling at him.

Now that I think about it, I still feel like I had a nightmare.

Worried that there was some unknown danger inside, Qi Leren removed "Devil Etiquette", changed it to the perception skill "Rain-Day Clothing", put his hand on the stone door, and pushed it gently. The stone door opened almost automatically before his eyes.

Maria and the black dragon were still there, but the metal sword in Maria’s hands had ceased to exist. Qi Leren's eyes fell to the blood on the ground, and the dragged blood seemed to bring back the scene before his death.

He took a step and wanted to go there, but the first step made this dead and broken church glow with incredible changes—

The statue of Maria exuded bright light, and countless cracks spread from its head. Qi Leren stared at this horrible scene and the cracks became more and more dense, spreading from Maria to the immortal body of the black dragon. The two statues with a height of more than ten meters were destroyed in an instant by time, turning into countless fragments and dust that poured down, rushing to the earth like waterfalls!

The entire site of the Vatican collapsed in a frantic tremor.

During this collapse, Qi Leren, who had been knocked down by the shock wave, looked towards the Maria.

Maria's phantom stood there, holding an object that seemed to be a scepter in both hands and coming towards him.

The ground shook so much that Qi Leren couldn't stand up at all, but Maria's phantom came to him as if on flat ground and handed the thing in her hand to him: "Please, bring this to the Prophet, you must give it to him personally."

"Who is the Prophet? Where is he?" Qi Leren asked, confused.

"He is in the judge’s seat of the Twilight Township. If you meet Ning Zhou, don't let Ning Zhou touch this thing and don't let him see it," Maria said.

Qi Leren looked down at what Maria gave him and held out his hand. The name of this item was [Scepter of Hell], which was made of metal, heavy and dangerous. There was a huge groove at the top of the scepter and the gem originally embedded in it had disappeared, leaving only this metal scepter with evil power. This was an extremely powerful and fearful demon item, which can even pollute the power of faith.

"I understand, I will give it to the Prophet." Qi Leren understood that the matter was important, so he put away this scepter and solemnly agreed.

"Thank you." Maria smiled, leaned over Qi Leren, and left a gentle kiss on his forehead.

The gentle kiss was like the blessing of God. Countless golden and silvery spots spread from Maria and she began to become blurred. However, these spots rushed into Qi Leren's body and he suddenly felt himself immersed as if in a hot spring. The warm energy soothed his stiff and tired body, injecting vitality and vigor into him again.

Indulged in this comfortable power, Qi Leren forgot where he was until an angry roar came from above: "How dare you! Maria! Again and again you have... I will not let you go!"

The Witch of Desperation, who found the body of the Devastator destroyed, roared. Storm clouds condensed with thunder and lightning and the terrible demon energy brewed the power of death. Countless bats came at them!

Maria nodded to Qi Leren languidly: "Good boy, go, remember my words."

Saying this, a bright white light rose from Qi Leren's feet, pierced through the dark clouds in the sky, and wrapped around Qi Leren to fly him towards the distant land of dusk.

In this dazzling silvery white light, Qi Leren felt his body float uncontrollably just like in the dream before, rising higher and higher, and the white world was full of magnificent and majestic vitality, solemn and quiet. Wrapped in the holy light, he flew in the sky like a gliding bird, moving forward in a pure white.

Suddenly an ethereal music sounded ahead. Qi Leren woke up from his dreamy state and looked in the direction of the music.

Countless little angels with flowers and musical instruments in their hands flew out of a magnificent gate, joyfully spreading petals and playing graceful music. That gate seemed to be the door to Eden. From the open gate, he could see a garden full of flowers. Angels holding musical instruments were playing the piano and singing songs by the fountain, singing praises to Father God.

A petite young female angel came out of the garden and her feet lightly landed on the clouds, smiling at Qi Leren.

Qi Leren tried to see her face clearly, but she seemed to be a light-year away from him.

"I am the Prophet," she said. "Give it to me."

Qi Leren's eyes were empty and that person's voice seemed to be God's will, which made him want to obey her orders involuntarily.

Give the Scepter of Hell to the Prophet, and she is the Prophet... This was firmly rooted in his mind.

Qi Leren took the Scepter of Hell in his hand without thinking.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren suddenly woke up. How could he believe that this unknown person was the Prophet?! This brainwashing power was simply terrible! He almost handed over this thing!

"Hmm?" The angel on the other side let out a confused hum as the projection of an archangel emerged behind Qi Leren, holding a rapier to cut the heavenly gate.

In a blaze of holy light, the world was silently torn apart and all the dreamy things in front of him disappeared in an instant.

Under the curious gaze of hundreds of millions of human beings and demons, this white holy light that shone in an arc across the sky paused for a moment in a cloud of black mist, then pierced the darkness and continued to fly towards the Village of Dusk on the eastern coast.

In the garden of Dawn.

"An unexpected miss. It’s not enough to use the avatar projection in front of him, I was too hasty," the petite woman sighed.

"You can't stop using the field’s power. After all, it’s the last of the Holy Nun’s power," the man taking a slow sip of wine said lightly.

"But to use ‘Utopia’, it will be weakened after being pierced by that holy light, it’ll do more harm than good. Forget it. Anyway, I already know that thing’s whereabouts, I’ll just ask others to keep it for the time being," the woman said and smiled again. "But that child you like is quite vigilant."

The red wine in the goblet was swirled gently, its thick red color like blood.

"People with secrets will always be more vigilant. I really wonder how many secrets he still hides."

The Village of Dusk on the east coast was shrouded in the afterglow of sunset all year round.

On the long coastline, Chen Baiqi was smoking on the seawall and her sister Sissi was catching crabs. Suddenly, she found a shiny stone. She screamed with surprise and took the stone to Chen Baiqi: "This is beautiful, I want to show it to Xiaozhi!"

Chen Baiqi glanced at the stone, but it was only a rare sea stone. She rubbed her sister's hair: "Okay."

"But I haven't seen Xiaozhi for a long time." Sissi was worried about her little friend. "Is it the Prophet who won't let him out?"

"Maybe," Chen Baiqi replied absently, full of melancholy. "We’ll go home in ten minutes and go to the Undead Island in the afternoon."

Sissi cocked her head and suddenly realized: "Is it Qi Leren’s seventh day?"

Chen Baiqi responded gently and let out a sigh.

The little girl who didn't know her sister's worries kicked the sand under her feet and muttered, "Why did he die?"

"People will always die," Chen Baiqi said lightly.

Sissi felt her sister's heavy heart and took her arm obediently. She was well protected by Chen Baiqi, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. She had met many of Chen Baiqi's customers. Those young men and women came to her store to buy what they needed. Some of them came very often while others came rarely, but gradually these people disappeared.

Those who had disappeared had never returned again. There would always be new faces coming and disappearing like those people.

Sissi remembered that when she was a little girl, a beautiful little sister always brought her delicious candy which was wrapped in colorful cellophane, and each one was sweet. She loved the candy brought by that little sister. Every time, she had collected these beautiful candy wrappers and put them in a small tin box until she had saved a whole box.

Then one day, when she saw the tin box, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen the little sister for a long time. She asked Chen Baiqi several times, and Chen Baiqi was silent for a long time, saying that she would help her find out.

She happily went back to her room, folded a string of paper cranes with those cellophanes, and prepared to give it to the little sister.

But in the end, she could only give the folded paper cranes to her tombstone.

On the Undead Island, which was just outside the Village of Dusk, the warm sunlight had illuminated her tombstone with her name on it and the days she had lived. There were only two simple lines that summarized a person's short life.

She had felt that she wasn’t very sad, but at the thought that she would never eat that delicious candy again, she had burst into tears.

Later, she learned where to buy this delicious candy that tasted sweet, but it wasn't from that little sister, so she didn't like it anymore.

She thought that, in fact, she didn't like that kind of candy very much, she just missed the little sister.

It was a carefree little girl who taught her the meaning of death for the first time.

"Jiejie*, you seem to have liked him very much?" Sissi asked.

*{E/N: “older sister”}

Chen Baiqi smoked a cigarette and the smoke blew away in the sea breeze: "Because a friend of mine likes him very much."

"How much did you like him?" Siss smiled and asked, "Does jiejie like me so much?"

Chen Baiqi looked at her sister's innocent face, smiled, and kissed her face: "Maybe I liked him more than jiejie likes you."

Sissi gave a "wow": "You must’ve liked him very much."

However, Sissi was a little sad again: "How sad will your friend be now that he’s dead?"

Chen Baiqi could not speak and her hand holding the cigarette was shaking. There was a little bit of sweet pain in the sour despair; even if it was just a bystander like her, she was almost suffocating.

She wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of her life. On that rainy day, Ning Zhou, who had gone to the Holy City with Qi Leren, suddenly returned to the Village of Dusk and knocked on her door. She was puzzled, but was shocked by Ning Zhou's calm dead eyes. Ning Zhou had braved the heavy rain and told her what had happened. Then, despite her dissuasion, he resolutely went to Neverland. He didn't even know whether he could survive the torture of the spiritual enchanment, or if it would leave him sleeping in the cold tundra forever.

Fortunately, Ning Zhou's tombstone had yet to appear on the Undead Island. It seemed that he had successfully arrived at his soul’s former hometown, bid farewell to it, and went to a world full of thorns and sufferings.

Thinking this, she suddenly heard Sissi let out a loud scream. Chen Baiqi raised her head and looked at the sky in astonishment—in the far west, there was a bright light streaking across the sky, magnificent, holy, and unparalleled, and all the places it passed were the projections of heaven. It stopped over the Village of Dusk and turned into a vertical beam of light.

A huge projection of an archangel appeared in the void, behind which countless wings danced slowly in the setting sun, almost covering the sunset. The wings were dying, like a white rain, and the projection of the archangel was getting weaker and weaker. He put his hands on his chest, bowed toward the distance, and disappeared into the golden red sunset.

Sissi was stunned. After being shocked, Chen Baiqi’s mind suddenly raised countless thoughts: Which of the Holy See's field-level masters had come to Dusk? The place of arrival also happened to be in the spot where the Prophet had landed at dusk... No, it should be just residual energy. If it was really a field-level master, they would not reveal such a big movement at all. And the Court’s enchantment has not been alarmed... Who was it?

"Sissi, go home, I'll check it out and I'll be right back," Chen Baiqi said, and inserted a card into her card slot. A projected book turned to a certain page in her hand. A white unicorn appeared beside her and she turned around to mount the horse. The winged unicorn flew in the air to the place where the projection of the archangel had landed.

She arrived at her destination in less than half a minute due to the short distance. On the rolling sea waves of the beach, a confused figure was looking in all directions at a loss. Seeing Chen Baiqi approach, he waved at her in surprise and ran quickly to her.

Chen Baiqi's cigarette butt fell to the ground, and shock and joy were intertwined. She couldn't wait to express her incredible mood with 10,000 swear words: "Shit Qi Leren, aren't you fucking dead?!”

-----

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Not Over You

A/N: This gif isn't mine, so if you're the owner, let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: Months after Keanu puts an end to your relationship and disappears, you bump into him, reawakening intense feelings.

You never expected to be the only human being on Earth who would go through life without an episode of a heart break. It would happen sooner or later, and you, like everyone else, would get over it. Eventually.

But you could never guess the one to give you such a painful experience would be Keanu Reeves, the one and only.

You met Keanu by mistake. An accident. In a day where your whole life was coming undone, two years ago. You had just lost your job, your parents were giving you a hell of a hard time about it, and you, seeking comfort in your boyfriend, found him half-naked with another girl. That made you drive insanely fast, through busy streets, only to stop on this bridge outside of the town. You had no intention of jumping, you just needed time to think and the wind was strong and heavenly. Maybe it could wash it all away.

It didn't. But a man decided to stop, assuming the worst, and asked you not to do anything reckless. You assured him you wouldn't, and a small, heart to heart conversation started. It took several minutes for you to finally turn and look at the man, and that almost gave you a heart attack. You couldn't believe your eyes. And you couldn't believe him, of all men, would pause his whole life just because of some random girl by the bridge.

But that was only the first day. He invited you for a coffee, and it took only a few days for you to get to the man behind the worldwide famous actor. And you fell in love with him. For a while, you thought he had fallen for you too.

But the media was restless. People soon found out about the age difference and that made them go crazy. News channel, tabloids, magazines, internet blogs, everything, they were all about Keanu's younger girlfriend. It didn't bother you though. You couldn't care less about what people think or say. But one day, it got to him.

One day, he decided to have an honest conversation with you about it. Keanu told you he felt old, so out of your league. Him. Out of your league. You remember laughing at this statement. But he didn't. He was dead serious as he pointed out all the things you couldn't share. How you belonged to different generations and never seemed to get each other's references. How you were into different things. It soon became a fight when you realized what he was doing. The yelling started and soon the crying. Keanu apologized and ended things. He wished you the best. He wished you to find someone your age, someone better than him.

That happened six months ago. It feels like years though. Since that day, you can only see him on TV. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Like he hasn't been in your life at all.

“(Y/N).” Your friend calls you, dragging you away from your thoughts. That's when you realize what made you remember him. Two men on your left, a few tables away, are talking about motorcycles. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, you look down at your cup of coffee, still untouched. Your friend made you come to this new coffee shop early in the morning, and you wish you could enjoy it. But now that Keanu is once again in your mind... You find it difficult to take in the beautiful vintage decoration. The pastel colors and all the happy people around you, chatting and smiling.

“Please tell me your not–”

“I'm not.” You cut her off, taking a deep breath. “I was just... Thinking about this office party next week. I can bring someone. Wanna come?” Lying is not your thing, but if you tell Laura you're thinking about Keanu again, she won't let it go easily.

“Sorry. Next week will be hectic, I don't think I can.” Feeling her eyes on you, you sigh. “But on the weekend we can do something nice like going to the–” She stops talking suddenly, eyes wide, staring at something behind you.

“Laura?” Raising your eyebrows, you wonder which one of her many ex-boyfriends is here. “Do you need me to go so you can talk to him?”

“No, no.” Running a hand through your hair, you notice this person approaching by how she moves in her seat. Still, you don't turn to check who it is. The only boyfriend she had that you liked had to move to someplace in Europe. The others are all idiots, so why bother to look?

“Just tell me what you want to do.” Muttering, you finally take a sip of your coffee before putting the cup down again. Too bitter for your taste. Or is it just you?

“(Y/N).” The mention of your name isn't what startles you. Or what makes your heart, ripped in half, skip a beat. It's the voice. You haven't heard it in a very long time, but you recognize it immediately. You crave for it. “Hi.”

“I'll leave you two.” Laura stands up, taking her bag, and giving you a stare. You don't know what it means though.

She doesn't even give you time to think. Perhaps you should leave as well. But you're frozen, not able to even look at him.

It takes a few seconds until he takes a seat before you, where Laura was. Seeing Keanu now is... What? Torture, certainly. Because you just realized you want to jump in his arms again, hug him, kiss him. Is painful because you know you can't do any of those things. And you shouldn't want to.

But there he is, looking as good as the day you first saw him. Dark hair hiding one of his eyes, the stubble that always looks so rough, but you know how soft it really is. He's right there, and you could just stretch your arm and touch him.

There are a lot of things you want to say, and the words fight for a chance to be spoken.

'What the hell do you want?'

'Where have you been all this time?'

'I still love you.'

'Why did you came to talk to me?'

'Do you still love me?'

“Hi.” It's stupid how this is what wins in the end.

“How are you? It's been a while.” He hesitates a little, those dark eyes never leaving you, burning. How much you missed those eyes looking at you...

“Normal.”

“Just normal?”

“Just normal.” You should lie. Tell him you're absolutely fine. Happy as hell. Maybe you should even tell him you're going out with someone. But you just can't. You love him too much, and the time you had together was good. The very best. The way it ended doesn't change how amazing it was. So you just can't bring yourself to lie to him. But you don't tell the truth either. Keanu doesn't have to know how devastated you still are after he left. “You?”

“Guess I can say I'm normal too.” There are things left unsaid. From both of you. “Is it too bitter?”

“What?” You mumble, and he gestures at your coffee. He knows you. Too well perhaps. “Yeah. Why-why are you here, Ke?” When you notice how you just called him, it's too late. Cursing yourself, you bite your tongue. “Keanu.” Or should you say, Mr. Reeves? You don't know where you stand now. Friends? It can't be since he disappeared.

“I heard of this new coffee shop and decided to come and... When I saw you, I just had to come and talk.” He nods, maybe to himself. “But I can go if that's what you want.”

“No.” How could you want him to leave? “It's... It's good to see you again.” A smile finds its way to your lips. “After what? Three, four months?” You dissimulate, not wanting to just let it show how much you missed him.

“Seven months next week, I believe.” Is he counting? Why would he do that? “Too long.”

“Too long.” You're still speaking when a young couple stops by your table, excitedly talking to Keanu. You smile to see how he excuses himself, with an apologetic look, to give his fans attention. He's always kind to them, never being rude. When he stands up for a picture, you take the chance to leave, your heart sinking a little. After leaving the money on the table, you take your bag and walk away, doing your best to hold back the tears threatening to roll down.

You had imagined this moment a million times. Seeing him again. You thought you'd yell, curse him and bravely walk away. But this? You're walking away out of fear. You're running away from the feelings, too strong for you to handle. How is it possible to love someone so intensely after all this time?

“(Y/N)!” His voice comes with the familiar noise of his motorcycle. So you stop, breathing deeply, hoping the soft shadow of the three above you will hide your teary eyes. “I'm sorry about that, I–”

“You know I don't mind, Ke... Keanu.” Damn it.

“I... I want to talk to you. So maybe somewhere more private where we won't be interrupted?”

No. You don't want to talk to him. You don't want to pour salt on the wound. “Alright.” If only you were stronger.

Keanu gives you his helmet, and you put it on before climbing on the bike behind him. There's no choice but to hug his waist, so that's what you do, trying not to enjoy it so much. It's probably nothing. He probably just wants to apologize.

You can't help but notice he still keeps the same speed as before. Not as fast as he usually goes when he's alone. As much as this gesture warms your heart, you try to keep it distant. Try to keep it cold. Cold people don't get hurt.

You're not impressed when you stop at his place. Well, his house. One of them. He moved after breaking up with you. Keanu waits patiently for you to move to the ground. The bike is too high for you, so it's always a little complicated. Taking off the helmet, you hand it over to him, making your way to the front door. But halfway there you change your mind. Being inside his house is too much. It's too familiar, too... Too much. So you walk around it, straight to the backyard.

Sitting on the wooden table, you take in the view. The morning sun turns everything into a dream. You remember that the best pictures you have with Keanu were taken here after you either decided to crash here or passed out on his couch.

Memories. The damn memories never leave you alone.

“I forgive you.” You burst out when he comes to sit before you. “If you want to apologize for... I don't know, for anything. I forgive you.”

“I wasn't planning on this.” He starts hands together above the table. “But I saw you there and... I just had to.”

You don't know what to say, so you look down, unable to sustain eye contact anymore. What are you doing? What is he doing? “You disappeared.” It just comes out, suddenly, full of... Anger? Desperation? You don't know, but it's overflowing. “After everything we've been through, you broke up with and disappeared. Not a single call. Not even a text. Nothing!”

“I had to.”

“You had to?” A humorless laugh escapes your lips and you stand up, determined to leave. On foot, if that's what it takes.

“I had to because if not I'd come back to you.” He raises his voice a little, just enough to make you stop in your tracks, hands shaking a little. “I did what I did because of you.”

“No, you did it for yourself.” Turning around again, you sustain his stare. “I didn't want to end things. I love you!” It came out wrong. Didn't it? It was supposed to be in the past. “I loved you.” You correct yourself, a hand on your forehead. “I... I'm sorry. You think I'm too young for you and that's ok. You have the right to think that but don't put words in my mouth. I never cared about age.”

“Everything I wanted was you to have the chance of making a better choice. Someone your age who could keep up with all the pop culture things you're into.” He speaks slow, his voice soft and low again. Keanu never raises his voice at you. Well, he only does it get your attention when you're too mad to listen, but he never enjoys it.

“If I wanted someone my freaking age I'd be looking for him.” Stepping forward, you slam both your hands on the table. “When I fell for you, I wasn't paying attention to the numbers. I fell for you. You. Why can't you accept that?”

“The tabloids were saying that I was–”

“Taking advantage?” You finish it for him. “Yeah, they said a lot of mean stuff but I didn't give a damn. Our relationship was between you and me. The rest of the world didn't get a say in it.”

Keanu looks down, breathing deeply. You just stand there, waiting. Begging... Begging this means something. Something good.

“Say something, please.”

“I still love you.” The words hit you like a train, and you stand up straight, not strong enough to look away from him.

“Don't say that if you don't mean it.” You beg, your voice barely a whisper.

“I mean it.”

“Don't say that if you still think we can't be together because of this or that!” You gesture at nothing in particular, tears rolling down now, all the walls you put around yourself falling to the ground. “You broke my heart once, don't do that again.”

“I can't stop thinking about you.” Keanu stands up, walking around the table and stopping before you. “Every single day I had to fight the urge to call you. Visit you. To... Have you back, but I couldn't. That's why I moved away. And I only came back because I thought I got over you but... Clearly, I didn't.” When he takes your hand, you swear you feel the world slowing down. You have been dreaming of his touch for so long now that you just don't have to strength to push him away. You want him. And... If he wants you too...

“Ke, please don't–”

“When I saw you, it came back. Everything since that day on the bridge.” Pulling up your hand, he places a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Every hug, every kiss, every date. It reminded me of how much I missed you.”

It's useless to fight it. It's useless to put any effort into trying to step away now. Your arms move from his chest up to be around his neck as you end the small distance between your bodies. Keanu is quick to hug your waist and it feels like both your bodies move out of instinct. Like you missed each other in levels you can't even understand.

“What do you mean, Ke?” Your voice is weak, barely a whisper. Involuntary, you stand on your toes, needing, wanting to kiss him again.

“I don't care what they say. Tabloids, magazines, to hell with them. All I need, all I want is you and if you really don't mind having such an old man–”

“Everything about you draws me in. Inside and out.” Cutting him short, you caress his cheek, wondering if you should allow yourself to be happy. If this is really happening.

“I know, darling.” He takes a deep breath. “I know what I did hurt you very much but... If you're willing to try again...”

“If you ever break up with me again over this whole age shit or for anything someone who doesn't even know us says... I'll be the one to disappear this time.” You mutter with your eyes closed, using whatever is left of your strength to keep from kissing him. “Promise me.”

“The plans we had... About getting married, having kids... I want it all back. I want to get things where we left them.”

Biting back a smile, you nod, finally allowing your thirsty lips to meet his. And it feels like heaven, like getting a chance to breathe after being underwear for too long. He tastes just the same, like home. Some tears roll down, giving the kiss a salty taste, but you don't mind. They're tears of joy now.

When you pull away to breathe, he lifts you up, and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. “You didn't get a chance to drink your coffee so let me make you breakfast.”

“Like before?”

“Yes. And if it's up to me, it'll be like that forever. For the rest of our lives or for as long as you want me.”

“Forever, then, Ke.” Smiling, you place a soft kiss on his lips. Yours now, once again. “Forever and always, babe.”

#keanu reeves #keanu x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #imagine keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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I can’t help myself from requesting Dick for “I need a hug.”

Me? Projecting onto Dick? more likely than you think. Warning for depression.

---

Tim finds the apartment locked with the curtains drawn and lights off. He doesn't really know why he's here... or well, he does know why he's here he just doesn't know why. He's here because Dick's gone off the radar, no signs of Nightwing at night combined with the sudden put in for a leave of absence at his work... it's enough to worry anyone even if you ignore the fact that he hasn't answered a single phonecall or text since he's disappeared a week and a half ago.

Tim knows why he's here. He just doesn't know why Dick's suddenly stopped existing within the world. Why Damian's been caught multiple times staring at his five unanswered messages, why Bruce could be seen checking Blüdhaven Vigilante Watch on twitter, why Bart came up to Tim and asked for Wally if Dick was okay.

He takes a deep breath, the cold world causing his breath to float up gently to the frozen, dirt covered spiderwebs on the single bulb above the door. Without wasting a second more, Tim knocks.

There's no reply.

And Tim should leave it there. He should leave it there and move on with his day. Honestly, it's not the first time Dick's disappeared from the radar, and it won't be the last. He's probably just on another super secret undercover mission that he hasn't told anyone about... at least this time he didn't fake his death.

However, there's something sitting in Tim's gut that doesn't feel quite right. Tim's long since learnt to trust his gut. With only a little bit of guilt, Tim brings out his bat-grade lockpicks and works Dick's front door open. It only takes a few minutes before Tim is walking into an absolute madhouse.

There's stuff everywhere. While granted... He's Dick and his apartment is always a mess; it's usually an organized chaos that only he would understand. This? Right now? It's trashed. Shattered glass on the floor, papers torn to hell, the sink overfilled and an entire box of cold, untouched pizza laying on the crooked coffee table. Tim's heart speeds up with worry as he closes the door behind him, as the longer he looks at the mess the more things he finds completely out of character for Dick's usual messiness.

His eyes land on the Nightwing suit sitting in clear view, rolled up into a ball and thrown over the TV like an old jacket.

"Dick?" Tim calls, kicking off his shoes on the mat so he doesn't get the snow sticking to the soles all over the floor. "It's Tim..."

He has no idea if Dick is even here. It looks like someone trashed his place looking for something, but there's really nothing to suggest a struggle. Maybe Dick's been robbed and he's looking for the perp? But then why would he leave his suit in the open and let so much fall apart just on the other side of his front door?

Tim carefully steps over a laptop laying open with no charge that's just been discarded onto the floor, making his way to Dick's bedroom.

And honestly? He didn't expect to see anything in Dick's bedroom.

But he did. He sees a big lump under a big quilt, still and unmoving. Tim rushes forward his his heart jumpstarting. "Dick?"

Dick's eyes are closed, the blanket tugged up to his eyelashes. It doesn't take long for Tim to notice that Dick's really let himself go in the worst way possible as he slowly pulls the blanket down. Sunken eyes, no clean shave, pale skin even in the dim light of whatever is managing to come through the closed curtains. Tim shakes Dick's shoulder.

"Dick? It's Tim?"

For a terrifying moment, Tim's almost sure he's going to have to check for breathing or a pulse, but then Dick's eyes flicker open slowly, blue eyes always so vibrant now as dull as an ocean after a terrifying storm.

It takes longer that what Tim would like for Dick's eyes to focus on him, and when they do, they widen in shock.

"Tim?"

His voice sounds so weak.

"Yeah... Dick... Are you okay? You haven't been talking to anyone and..."

Dick looks off to the side and swallows, pulling the quilt down like it's the most heavy thing in the world as he slowly works himself to lean against the headboard. He's lost weight. Enough weight that Alfred would not only have a cow, but probably stuff a whole roasted one down his throat as well.

"I'm fine... Just..." Dick pauses, then shrugs. "Winter's hard. But I'm fine."

Winter's hard? That's all that he has to say about leaving the face of the earth and making everyone he loves worried about him?! Tim almost snaps at him, but then his voice catches in his throat.

Winter's hard.

This has happened before.

And deep down, somewhere at the back of his mind, he knows Dick always talks less during the winter months. Whenever it snows, he'd rather uncharacteristically stay indoors and read a book than go out and have a snowball fight. Sometimes he won't visit the manor at all until it's the day of Christmas. Tim's always chalked it up to him just not liking the cold or the snow driving... but what if it's more than that?

"Dick..." Tim asks slowly, "you know we're here for you? And that if you need anything, you can ask us... Right?"

A twitch of a smile brushes across Dick's lips before he looks down at the pattern of his quilt as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. "I don't want to bother anyone..."

Tim bites the inside of his cheek before he lowers himself to sit on the edge of Dick's bed. "Well, I'm here now, and I'm entirely un-bothered. I want to help. Is there something I can do? To make it easier?"

And gosh, it shouldn't shock Tim so much to see Dick's eyes water suddenly. It's the second Dick lets out a pain filled laugh that Tim knows his suspicions are right. How long has Dick had major seasonal depression like this and no one has noticed?

"A hug?" Dick asks, like it's a joke, and he doesn't actually expect Tim to hug him. Usually, Dick's so open with hugging and physical actions of affection. But how he says it almost makes Tim afraid to go forward and initiate one without making sure that being touched is really what he wants.

"Do you want a hug?"

Dick's face twitches again, a tear runs down the side of his nose before he quickly lifts his arm to his face and swipes furiously. After a second, Dick nods his head. "I need a hug."

And Tim doesn't have to be told twice. He leans forward and wraps his arms around Dick's neck, and Dick wraps his own around Tim's chest like he's been waiting a million years for this hug. With a small spike of horror, Dick starts openly crying and sniffling against Tim's chest. He can feel Dick's fingers digging into the back of his hoodie.

Dick really needed this hug, Tim thinks with complete bafflement. He's never seen Dick like this, so open and vulnerable and sad, that it's all he can do from bursting into tears himself.

All he can do is hold Dick as long as Dick needs it. After, they can see about the next steps to take to make winter just a little bit easier.

For now, Tim hugs his biggest brother, and he will continue to do so until Dick feels ready to let go.

#dick grayson #tim drake #nightwing #red robin dc #drake #dc comics #batfamily #fanfiction #jin writes #depression tw

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