#I think the tone here is a bit bittersweet? but if you’d like to add additional bitterness diluc celebrates his 18th birthday 2 weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamerstreamer · 3 years

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Love Bite

Pairing: vampire!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Vampire!AU] Despite how deadly it may appear at first glance, you love your vampire boyfriend with all your heart, so when Clay goes a bit too long without a drink, you’re more than willing to help him.

Warnings: tw// mentions of blood & general vampire shenanigans

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see vampire dream! this was lots of fun to explore, and i hope you all enjoy! <3

You scroll mindlessly along your mouse, your laptop screen illuminating your dim room with a pale glow as image after image pops up on your screen. Your assignment lies long forgotten on the side of your desk, the tab still open just a single click away.

“Whatever,” you mumble quietly to yourself as you click on another link. Your gaze briefly flickers to the calendar on your wall before you shake your head. “I still have another week to work on it—it’s fine.”

Letting out a sigh, you slump over onto your desk, pressing your cheek against the cool wood as you sweep your gaze over to your balcony window. Outside, the sky is dark, the vast expanse washed with a deep, navy hue as the stars begin to peek out from the shadows and gaze down at the bustling city below. It’s a little past midnight now, and despite how late it is, the streets are just as busy as ever. You only catch a small glimpse of the crescent moon hanging among them before your gaze drops to your balcony.

Yet again, it’s empty, completely devoid of life.

The sight makes you frown, and you tear your gaze away from the sight and back to your laptop, continuing your scrolling with a sulk.

It had been a little over four days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Not that you’re counting or anything, of course. It’s just that you’ve gotten lonely without him, and you’re starting to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

Having a vampire boyfriend and being a human isn’t always the easiest, but you’re more than willing to put up with it for him. You can still remember the day he had broken the news to you, having been fully prepared to sacrifice his life right then and there for you if you chose to call for a hunter. But you hadn’t—you chose to stay, to love him.

And love him you do.

There may be times where he has to disappear for a little while that leave you cold and wanting, but the time you do spend together more than makes up for it. He’s overwhelmingly kind, honestly stubborn, and always loves to put a smile on your face, no matter how bad of a day you may have had. You can’t possibly count how many times you’ve thrown yourself into his arms with the widest grin on your face, all just to feel him laugh against you with a soft kiss behind your ear. There’s no one else in the world for you, living or undead, and you are willing to wait for him. It’s embarrassing to think about, but you really would walk to the ends of the earth just for him.

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought, and you force it down with a huff, ducking your head back down again and staring at your assignment. You distantly think of your phone sitting next to your bed and the string of messages you had sent him a few hours prior, all of which remain unopened. Kicking your legs, you whine, burying your face into your arms upon your desk.

Tonight is just not your night, it seems.

Just then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on glass.

Lifting your head, you blink, slowly turning to look over at your window. Squinting for a moment, you can barely make out the shape of a familiar silhouette standing on your balcony and leaning casually against the railing. His golden hair shines beneath the moonlight, and your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s here.

In an instant, you’re scrambling out of your desk chair and across the room. Fumbling with the balcony lock, you slide open the door with a gasp, the cool night breeze brushing against your cheeks with a soft caress. In front of you, the figure shoots you a crooked grin, his eyes flashing with delight.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

Your heart melts at the sound of his ever-soothing, familiar voice, and you return his smile with one of your own. “Good evening to you too, Clay.” Scanning him up and down once, you gesture for him to come inside as you add jokingly, “You do know you don’t always have to come in through the window, right? I do have a front door.”

His grin only widens at your words, a soft chuckle tumbling from his lips as he ducks his head to step into your room. “I have a reputation to uphold as a vampire, you know?” he hums. The glint in his eye dances with mischief. “Twilight was the one who said that windows are the way to go.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “Are you really sure you want to use Twilight as your vampire role model of all things? Why not use...” You pause for a moment, then lift a finger. “Dracula?”

A grimace skitters across his face as he pulls the balcony door shut behind him. “Dracula may have been scary, but he was also an old man and, like, super creepy. At least modern vampire fiction makes us sound less gross.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “And also hot.”

You gulp, stepping back until your hand is brushing over the soft covers of your bed. “Well,” you ask softly, “do you think they got it right? The way they portray you guys?”

His lips split into a sly grin, his teeth flashing in the starlight. “I dunno, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he dips his head closer to yours. “You tell me.”

Your breath catches for all but a second before you’re gently pushing him away from you with a giggle. “Nice try,” you say, leaping onto your bed with a teasing grin, “but I’m not feeding your ego any more. You do that enough on your own.”

He feigns a wounded look, climbing into the space next to you with a hurt pout. “Aw, bummer. At least give me a kiss, then.”

For a second, you pretend to think about it, mulling the decision over in your head just to watch something needy spring to life in his eyes. Then, you smile, leaning in close to his face with your mouth hovering over his. “Just one.”

You only manage to see a sliver of his lovestruck smile before he presses his lips to yours, your eyelids falling shut. You can just barely feel his sharp fangs brush against the skin of your lip, and the thought makes you croon into his mouth. A certain fondness blossoms behind your ribcage, and your lungs almost feel as though they’re too tight to breathe. He’s cold against you, and when he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, you shiver at the feeling of his icy skin against yours. Everything he does sends a chill rushing down your spine, but when you part just a moment later, you already feel yourself missing his touch.

Brushing his nose over yours, you feel him inhale sharply against you, and the breath he lets out is positively trembling. “God,” he whispers into the side of your face, his voice rasping ever so slightly, “you smell so good.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest at his words, and you feel warmth blossom across your collarbones. “I’m flattered,” you say gently, reaching a hand up to press against his shoulder. Instantly, he melts into your touch as you subtly shuffle back across your bed away from him. “But you’re the one who told me I’m not allowed to let you drink from me.”

His lips part for a moment, and you catch a gleam of the moonlight flashing across his fangs. Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs with longing. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, his gaze swimming with a deep, drowning sense of sorrow. “You know that I’d never, ever want to hurt you, right?”

A smile tugs on your lips, sincere and true. “Of course I do,” you murmur, “and I promise you that you won’t, even if you did drink from me.”

You pause for a moment, then slowly reach a hand up to your shoulder. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight, and you almost swear you catch an inkling of crimson swirling within his viridian gaze as you lean your neck to the side. “It’s okay if you want to, alright?” you whisper, swallowing.

His eyes are glued to your neck, and you can almost see the storm that rages just beneath his skin. Your chest aches at the thought, knowing just how conflicted he must feel right now. When he doesn’t move, you drop your hand back down to the bed, your gaze focused intently on his.

“I trust you,” you say, pouring every ounce of honesty you can into your words. “Can you trust yourself?”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his lips parted as his emerald eyes rake you up and down. They’re wide with hunger, an expression you had seen many times before over the months, but not one you had become fully acquainted with. You fidget a little under his intense gaze, and you’re just about to open your mouth again when suddenly, his hands are reaching for yours on the bed.

You gasp as he intertwines his cool fingers between your warm ones, your heart leaping for joy. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, drinking in your sweet scent as your warm breath tickles his cold skin. You love the quiet moments like this, the enamoured silences that envelop the two of you in your own little bubble as the world seems to slow down. Sucking in a breath, he shudders at your touch, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly for you and you alone to hear. “You’re too good to me.”

You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest, but something uneasy sinks into the pit of your stomach at the bittersweet tone of his voice.

He didn’t answer your question, a voice whispers from the back of your head. Why didn’t he answer?

A moment later, you push the feeling away, nudging it back into the dark crevices of your mind. Instead, you choose to focus on the feeling of his skin pressing against yours, soothing and soft as you relish in the moment. The moon’s crescent frown seems to deepen from her perch in the sky, but she remains ever silent, only watching with her patient, pallid gaze.

You’re probably just imagining things.

After that night, time passes by you at an achingly slow pace. Night after night passes without a single sign of Clay, and before you even know it, a week and a half has flown past you without so much as a call. You text him as often as you can, and more often than not, you do actually get a response. Seeing the notification of his name pop up on your phone screen makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you’re always eager to hear back from him, but you can’t help but miss him as the hours drag on.

An empty, hollow feeling sinks into your chest as you curl up in your bed, the blankets strewn around you haphazardly as you blink over at the closed curtains draped over your balcony window. You haven’t bothered to look outside for a few nights, now—you already know that he won’t be there, as much as you want him to be. Even now, you can imagine his grinning face and teasing pokes as clear as day. The loneliness gnaws away at you as you turn onto your side, facing away from the window.

You hope he’s safe no matter what he’s up to, right now. You know better than anyone that sometimes, he can be a little too reckless for his own good.

Letting your eyes close, you sink into your pillow, a galaxy of stars whirling around your head as you slowly feel yourself drift off into a murky dream. Flashes of bright grins and the sound of wheezing laughter trickles through your thoughts, and you sigh at the endearing memories that wrap around your heart. You can almost swear you feel a pair of hands wrap around your own.

All of a sudden, something prods at the back of your ear, restless and sharp. Wincing, you blink a sleepy eye open, your bleary mind sorting through the sounds in your head before landing on one.

Glass—that’s the sound of glass.

Someone is tapping at your window.

Your eyes shoot wide open, and in a whirlwind, you’re ripping the covers off your body and pushing open your bedroom curtains. On the balcony stands a hooded figure, his golden tresses just barely peeking out from beneath the low-hanging cloth. You swallow and grab onto the door lock, slamming it open just a moment later. You shiver at the night breeze nipping at your skin, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less about the cold, your focus entirely devoted to one thing and one thing alone.

“Clay!” you cry, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and instead, his hand reaches to the side to desperately grip onto the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white. Your eyebrows furrow with concern, and slowly, you take a step toward him. You haven’t even crossed the doorway separating the inside of your room to your balcony when he suddenly barks, “Stop!”

You freeze in place, your hand halfway reaching for his when he practically crumples against the railing, curling in on himself with a choked plea. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his chest with a ragged breath, “please. I’m—”

“Clay?” you breathe again, this time much quieter. You shuffle closer to the window glass, your toe just barely brushing against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, a snarl rips out of his throat, guttural and beastly. You flinch at the sound for a split second, the worry in your chest only making your heart shake even more. His grip on your balcony railing grows even tighter, and you don’t doubt that it’s going to leave a mark on the metal.

“Don’t come too close,” he pants, his thighs shaking beneath him. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You purse your lips at him, frustration and confusion digging at the sides of your stomach. “Then why did you come here?”

All is quiet, and he doesn’t respond. The only sound you can properly hear is his uneven breathing as he claws at the front of his hoodie, the fabric bunching beneath his touch. You flick your gaze over him again, and a cold realization suddenly washes over you.

“Clay,” you whisper, the tiniest hint of fear seeping into your voice, “when was the last time you had a proper drink?”

You are once again met with silence, but the way he suddenly stiffens does not go unnoticed by your watchful gaze. Something curls nervously inside your gut, and your lips curl into a frown as you dig your heel into the ground.

“Clay,” you say again, a little louder this time—a little more firmly. “How long has it been?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, he whispers so softly that it’s almost swept away by the wind, “...too long.”

A pang of sorrow shoots through you, a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. You were right. He’s thirsty. A sigh escapes your throat as you open up your arms, beckoning him toward you. “Come here,” you murmur with all the softness you can muster. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that you realize you haven’t seen his face this whole time. “Take off the hood,” you say gently. His shoulders tense at your request, and you quickly add a tender, “Please.”

His throat bobs as he gulps, and ever so slowly, his hands reach up to tug at his hood until suddenly, the moonlight is casting a glowing streak of silver across his face. Your eyes go wide.

His kind, lovely eyes, which are typically viridian green and swimming with adoration for you, are now painted a deep, scarlet red, his pupils dilated beyond belief as they lock onto yours.

In all the time you’ve known he was a vampire, you’ve never seen him like this before.

But strangely enough, you’re not afraid.

Instead, you gently reach for his hand, careful to only just lightly wrap your fingers around his. His gaze drops back to the ground again, and while you know he doesn’t have a pulse, if he did, you imagine that it would be going haywire right about now. “Oh, honey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Just as you begin to lead him inside to your room does he raise his chin once more, his jaw clenched tight as he takes in your soft, enamoured expression. As he steps inside, you reach behind him to slide the door shut before tugging him back toward your bed. Settling down on the mattress with a loose breath, you let go of his hand. His arms are still shaking at his side when he sits, and it’s then that you open your mouth again.

“Clay,” you say, your voice as clear as a bell, “you can drink from me.”

His crimson eyes widen, and the look he shoots you is one of pure, unadulterated panic. “I-I can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes,” you shoot back, reaching up for the collar of your shirt, “you can.” His eyes trace down the slope of your jaw before landing on the smooth skin of your neck, exposed and waiting for him. His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands squeezing into fists beside him. “It’ll be alright.”

“H-How do you know that?” he blurts, his nails digging into his palm. “What if—what if I lose control and hurt you?” His face blanches at the sight, and he slumps over onto his lap, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t let that happen.”

You sigh, and he clams up at the softness of the sound. “And it won’t.”

A moment passes in aching, tense silence. You resist the urge to hug him, knowing that initiating any more contact with him would only make him panic even more. “Last time I was here,” he suddenly whispers, shattering the silence with his head ducked down, “you asked me if I trust myself.”

You blink at him as he slowly raises his head, turning his gaze to look at you head-on. “I don’t, [Y/N],” he whispers. “Not one bit.”

Your eyes flash in the darkness of your room, and before you can stop yourself, your mouth opens. “But I do.”

He goes stock still before you, and suddenly, the words are flowing from your lips in a rush, unstoppable and dripping with honesty. “I know you, Clay, and I know you won’t hurt me, no matter how scared you are that you might. I believe in you, and I believe in us.” You press your hand to your chest, your fingers curling over your beating heart. “I love how much you want to make sure I’m safe, but right now, I want to make sure that you’re safe, too.”

If you were looking a little closer, you would have seen the glossy sheen in Clay’s eyes as you tip your head to the side once more, your shirt collar tugged down your shoulder. You bite on the inside of your cheek, your fingers squeezing the sheets. His crimson eyes almost look soft in the glittering starlight of the night, and you feel your chest flood with heat.

“Please,” you croon, your eyes never leaving his. “Go on.”

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then, he’s crawling across the bed toward you, his shaking hand reaching for your shoulder. Gently, he turns you toward him, his other hand cupping your cheek. Slowly, you feel his nose brush against your jaw, something cold pressing against your skin.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers.

Then, he sinks his fangs in.

A sting shoots up your neck at the feeling, just barely there and slightly sharp, but it’s most certainly nothing you can’t handle. Heat pools around your collar bones as he drinks and drinks, and you feel your eyelids flutter shut. His lips, which are usually cool and soft when they meet yours, feel oddly warm for once, and you sigh at the sensation of your blood pumping from your skin.

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes with him cradling you against him and his mouth lapping at the side of your neck, but soon enough, you can feel a slight dizziness flit around your skull. A soft whimper escapes your lips and instantly, he breaks away from you, his eyes wide with worry as you lean against him for support. You press your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before sitting upright once more, blinking away the vignette tinting the edges of your vision. In front of you, Clay’s lips are stained with a faint shade of red, but his eyes have returned to the brilliant shade of green you know and love. He grips onto your shoulders a tad tighter than before, his hands reassuringly rubbing against up and down against your arms.

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of harm. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough or anything. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but god, you taste so sweet and I—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Before he can even blink, you’re pressing your mouth to his, your tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. The uncanny warmth of his lips against yours makes your head spin more than it was before, and you feel yourself smile against him when you pull back. You can taste the slight metallic tang of your own blood on your mouth as you flash him a grin, his eyes wide with adoration as he drinks in the sight of you sitting before him.

“I’m okay, Clay,” you say with an earnest look. Tilting your head at him, your tongue darts out to swipe at the corners of your mouth. “Are you?”

His eyes never leave yours as he reaches forward to slip your hand into his, his fingers slotting between your own. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His pale skin almost seems to glow in the dim light filtering through your balcony window, and he strokes his thumb over the back of your knuckles. Something inside you suddenly unravels as he tugs you into his chest, holding you close to him as his arms wrap around your backside. You feel him rest his chin atop your shoulder, and you melt into his cool touch. Just as you let yourself let out a loving, hazy sigh against his chest, you feel him whisper into the shell of your ear.

“Would you maybe let me... have another sip?”

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novaiya · 3 years

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Simple Twist of Fate - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: In a saloon in Rhodes, you see a man with virility and vigor so strong it attracts you like a moth to the flame. You watch as he downs a shot of whiskey and licks his lips, not letting even a drop go to waste. You're gathering your courage, ready to approach him and see where it takes you. Will the fate allow the two of you to meet?

Words: 2,422

Tags: Smut, Oral (male and female receiving), F!Reader

A/N: I was brushing my teeth, and Bob Dylan’s Simple Twist of Fate came to my mind. The song made me think of a possible “missed connection” type of scenario between Arthur and you. Bittersweet. Blame it on a simple twist of fate. Link to AO3

Rhodes was the type of town to crash in, get drunk, wake up the next morning and never think of again. With just one saloon, that also operated as a bathhouse and a hotel, there wasn’t much to do except for gambling and drinking, the latter of which you were engaging in at the moment. You were leaning on the bar stock and picking on the label of your beer bottle when you saw, out of the corner of your eyes, a man join you at the other end of the bar.

“Can I get whiskey, please?” you heard him say.

The rough, yet warm sound of his voice called out to you, and you turned your head to get a look at him. With his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline and a full head of dark blonde hair, he stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of the patrons of the saloon. He was attractive, plain and simple, something that couldn’t be said about the other men in this town, with their receding hairlines or their red complexions from all the years of drinking or working out in the sun. You watched as he straightened out when the barman handed him his drink. The shot glass looked comically small in his comparatively giant hand. Your eyes never left him as you watched him bring the glass to his lips and drink the whole shot in one ago, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed the drink.

As if he could feel you staring at him, he turned his head towards you and gave you a polite smile. You smiled back before quickly turning your head back towards the beer bottle in your hand, once again digging your nails into the sticker that you have almost peeled.

He was even more handsome when you got a straight look at him. His smile seemed inviting, and you wondered if you should approach him. It’s not every day that you see men as attractive as he was and what’s the worst that could happen? If he turns you down, you could just take your beer to your room, sleep till the next morning, and leave the town the next day, along with the thoughts of the attractive stranger

The decision, however, was made for you when the object of your thoughts came to stand next to you.

“Hey there,” he said, leaning against the bar.

“Hi,” you said, instantly abandoning the beer bottle in your hand and turning your attention to the man.

He introduced himself, saying his name, and you did the same back.

“Can I get you a drink?” he said, looking at the empty beer bottle next to you.

You accepted and he called the bartender, asking for two shots of whiskey. The two of you fell into a comfortable conversation that only two people who didn’t know each other and didn’t plan on could. You asked him what he was doing here, and he said he was just passing through. By the guns on his hip and the scars across his face and hands, you could tell he was lying, but you didn’t pry. You too had secrets that you weren’t planning on sharing with strangers, even as beautiful and captivating as him.

The conversation flowed as easily as the whiskey, and you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you looked around yourself, noticing that the saloon was completely empty, save for a few drunks sleeping at the tables and a couple of working girls chatting among themselves. A slight panic shot through you. Has your time with the mystical cowboy come to an end? You weren’t ready to bid him farewell just yet, so with a boldness that you rarely showed, turned around and said, “The night is still young. I got a room upstairs, we can continue our conversation there.” Your pronunciation of the word ‘conversation’ made the man smirk and with a southern drawl that you came to love after just a few hours of conversation, he said, “I can’t see why not.”

The walk to your room was silent, and you were afraid that in it your wild heartbeat could be heard, getting quicker and quicker with each step that brought you closer to your destination.

You barely had the time to close the door before he pushed you against it. His mouth was on yours in an instant, his hands on your hips and in your hair. Your hands reached towards his shirt on their own, haphazardly undoing the buttons and pushing off his suspenders. He helped you rid himself of his shirt, pushing it off and dropping it on the ground. Breaking the kiss, you had a chance, for a brief moment, to look him over. Your imagination did not do him justice, you thought, as your eyes roamed over his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and toned chest covered in light, short hair. You couldn’t believe all of that was hidden underneath a flimsy cotton shirt.

He noticed you looking and smirked. He reached out with his hand, running it down your check before placing his thumb on your lips. You parted them without thinking, letting him push his thumb inside and sucked on it. He could feel his face grow hot as you ran your tongue over his thumb, keeping your eyes on him. With his free hand he went toward the fly of his pants, popping open the button and pulling out his cock. He started stroking it slowly, keeping his eyes on you as you sucked on his thumb.

Noticing what he was doing, you took his hand in yours and pushed his thumb out of your mouth. He groaned, but his tone quickly changed when you went down on your knees, your face inches away from his cock. You pushed his hand away, replacing it with your own and started stroking him. You couldn’t believe what you were doing, especially with a man you knew only for a couple of hours, but something about him made you unable to think about anything except the pleasure he was going to bring you.

He moaned your name at the feeling of your hand on him, one of his own holding onto the door in front of him, the other in your hair. You started leaving open mouth kisses all over his dick, lubricating him with your spit before finally taking the head of his cock in your mouth, gently sucking on it.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, “knew you’d be good with that mouth as soon as I saw you wrap them pretty lips on that beer bottle.”

The sound of his voice, twisted with desire, moaning because of what you were doing was like nothing else you’ve ever heard, and you went to work, taking him deeper, wanting, no, needing to hear him again.

He started to move his hips, pushing more of his length in your mouth. He was big, bigger than anyone you had before, and you were having a hard time fitting all of him in your mouth, though you still tried.

Suddenly, after a few moments, he pulled back, a string of salvia connecting your lips and his cock for a brief second.

You pouted at the sudden loss, already missing the weight of his cock on your tongue. He must’ve sensed your disappointment and said, “Sorry darlin’, don’t want the night to end too quickly.” He extended his hand, helping you up to your feet before crashing his lips against yours once again, not minding the taste of himself on your lips. He turned you around and started pushing you towards the bed. The mattress gave out a soft squeak as the two of you fell on it.

“Let me return the favor,” he said, licking his lips and eyeing you like a predator.

He paved his way to your center with feather light touches, kissing and nipping on your exposed skin as soon he pushed your blouse off. You helped him pull down your pants, and they, together with your soaked drawers, went flying to the floor.

“Look at you,” he said as soon as he saw how soaked you were. “All from sucking cock?”

You bit your lip, slightly embarrassed, and turned your head to the side, hiding from his intense gaze. He smirked to himself, amused by your sudden shyness.

He ran a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness, before slowly, agonizingly so, pushing in. Long and thick, his finger alone was already too much for your needy body, yet you wanted more. You gyrated your hips, trying to get him to move or add another finger.

He bit his lip as he watched you squirm under him, the sight of your body, needy and burning making him wet his lip. He added a second finger, not moving his eyes from your face, watching for every sigh that escaped your lips, for every flutter of lashes. He picked up the pace, pushing his thick fingers in and out of your wet entrance, reveling in the way you twisted and turned under him, moaning his name.

Your lids were half closed as you took in the pleasures he was giving you. Each push of his fingers was driving you closer and closer to your desired destination. You were panting and sighing until you felt the warm envelope of his lips on your clit. Your murmur turned into a long moan, spurring the man to alternate between sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue. It only took a few more moments until your hold gave out, and you let the waves of orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave of the ocean, consuming you until all you could focus on was the man between your legs.

The sight of you overcome by such passion made the man want nothing more than to feel it too, and once your orgasm subsided, he crawled up your body, seeking your mouth once again. The kiss was passionate, rough and messy, your mouths devouring each other as if each was the much needed drink of water in the hot deserted desert. He took himself in his hand, and pushed into your sensitive, overstimulated heat. You winced at first, not used to his girth, but soon enough the slight pain gave away to ways of pleasure, and you circled your legs around his waist, motioning him to let go and find his own pleasures through your body.

His pace, calculated and deliberate, was slowly making you mad. The pull and push of his cock hit all the right places within you, and you wondered how you were going to be satisfied with anyone else after this.

After a while, his pace picked up, and you could feel that he was nearing his own release. His hand found your clit, and as he circled it, he said, “Let go for me, one more time.” His lips were on your neck, kissing down your throat, and after a few seconds all you saw was white as you came with a shout of his name.

You clawed at his back, feeling the need to hold on to something or else you would float away on the pleasures you were feeling. The feeling of your walls spasming around him did it for him and not a moment later he-

“Miss, miss,” the bartender waved his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your daydream.

You shook your head, as if the reverie you engaged yourself in was a cloud you could shake off, and said, “Yes, I’m sorry?”

The bartender said, “Another beer?” and looked at the empty bottle in your hand.

“Ah,” you said and instantly went for the money in your pocket and said, “Yes, please.” The man took your change and your empty beer bottle, and came back with a new one not a minute later. You thanked him and instantly went for the beer, downing almost half of it right away, trying to calm the blazing heat inside of you. You tried to, nonchalantly, see if the man of your dreams was still there. You turned your head, looking as if you were fixing your hair, and noticed that yes, he was still here, still nursing a shot of whiskey in front of him.

You felt your face flush as you stole a glance over him; tall, handsome, strong. From his dark blonde locks to muscular ass, everything about him radiated vigor. For a moment, you felt bad for making the unsuspicious man a part of your sexual fantasy, but how could you not when just by standing there he was making you drench your drawers?

You decided, that there was no use standing around and blushing like a schoolgirl, and was about to approach the man (this time, for real), when the doors of the saloon opened and in went a man that just like the one near you, didn’t look like he belonged in this town. For a moment, he stood near the entrance and looked around the bar, as if searching for somebody, only for his gaze to settle on the blonde man at the bar.

“There you are, Arthur,” he said as he clapped his hand on the blonde man’s shoulder (Arthur, right?) “Come on, let’s get going, Bill is waiting outside.”

Without awaiting Arthur’s answer, the man with a dark black mustache went back out. Arthur didn’t follow the man right away, instead settling on finishing the drink in front of him. He placed the glass near his lips, and in one go, downed the rest of it. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, collecting a drop or two of whiskey that escaped the glass. He straightened out, and as he turned around to leave, gave you a polite smile and a nod. The act caught you by surprise, but you quickly collected yourself and shot him an equally friendly smile, nodding your head in return, trying to hide the blush that overtook your natural skin color. The whole act lasted no more than five seconds, but you found yourself replaying it in your head countless times as you leaned against the bar stock, fumbling with the beer bottle in your hand.

“Arthur,” you said under your breath, pronouncing each syllable with intention and care. You could now adjust your fantasy to include his name, you thought.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfics #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfics #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 x y/n #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption imagines

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stylistiquements · 3 years

Text

Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

#sapnap smau #smau #mcyt smau #sapnap x you #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #sapnap series #129 days #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #sapnap fluff

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reidamancy · 4 years

Text

why won’t you love me || spencer reid

summary: As Spencer’s cases continue to drive a wedge between you, you soon realize after a heartbreaking decision that the seeming demise of your relationship wasn’t caused by what you thought it was. (spencer reid x gn!reader)

Based on the song Why Won’t You Love Me by 5 Seconds of Summer.

category: angst

warnings: none

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this is my entry for @veraiconcos vicficwriterchallenge!! this also happens sometime after s13 so although there aren’t any spoilers, there are references to something that happens in the later seasons :)

MASTERLIST

Spencer leaned his head on the window of the jet as it took off, watching the ground slowly disappear beneath him. He droned out the voices of his team as they discussed the new case, staring at the diminishing lights of the city instead. He couldn’t get himself to contribute; his mind was preoccupied with how he left your relationship that morning.

He should have seen it coming. As your small, petty fights began to add up, he should have known it would have escalated to this: a screaming match with tears and yells echoing through your shared apartment, leading to the two of you going to bed with no resolution, separated by the walls of your home.

And before the sun had risen, Spencer was called on a case and he was gone once again.

He knew his absence would only fuel the fire of your frustration, but what was he supposed to do? He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring calls from work, and although all he wanted was to stay and make things right between you, he had a case to solve.

He let out a sigh, holding back his tears. He tried once again to read the file in his hands, but his mind couldn’t stop thinking about you. He let his mind wander, thinking about how you’d feel when you’d wake up to an empty apartment. How could he ever make it up to you?

Spencer shook away his thoughts once more and concentrated on the file in front of him. If he was going to do this, he had to pretend the two of you were alright. He just hoped you’d be good until he got back.

As Spencer switched his phone to airplane mode, he was met with your face on his lockscreen, smiling back at him. He subconsciously smiled back. Seeing the happiness on your face put him at ease, even if it was only temporary. He found comfort in the picture, hoping he could bring that smile back on your face when he got back.

---

When you awoke that morning, you were met with an empty apartment. You let out a scoff as you paced around your apartment, looking for a note, sign, anything he could have left behind. But all you found was an empty space where his go bag should have been. Of course. He was off on a case, with the worst possible timing.

You sighed as you sank into the couch, looking over at Spencer’s neatly folded blanket placed on the arm. You ran your fingers over the fabric as you pulled out your phone. Before your mind could even comprehend what you were doing, your fingers had already dialed his number. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, and as you held your phone up to your ear, your heart began to race in anticipation of his answer.

You didn’t know if you were mad at him for leaving again or sad that he didn’t say goodbye. Sure, there was tension between the two of you, but he could have at least said something, right?

The loud ringing on the line continued for what seemed like forever. After an eternity, his chirpy voice answered the line.

“Hi!”

“Spencer,” you started, but you were interrupted.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone at the moment, please leave a message after the beep!”

You scoffed and hung up before the beep sounded. Voicemail. Of course. You should have known better. As if you weren’t upset before, this missed call only reignited the flame that had died overnight.

You went about the rest of your day with no word from Spencer. At first, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and thought that perhaps he was still on the jet. But after hours had passed and even the longest of flights would have landed, you gave up on hearing from him.

The radio silence was bittersweet. It left you alone with your thoughts, allowing you to cool off and be more level-headed. The only problem was, it left you alone with your thoughts. And as you reflected on your feelings, for the first time, you began to question your relationship with Spencer.

As you were about to sleep that night, your ringtone sounded from your nightstand. When you rolled over to answer it, you weren’t surprised to see it was a long overdue call from Dr. Reid himself. Seeing his name brought your blood back to a boil and your frustration was evident as you curtly answered, “Spencer.”

On the other side of the line, Spencer winced at your tone. “Hey Y/N.”

Your body sank at the softness in his voice. Upon hearing it, you felt your body relax as the anger slowly dissipated. You sighed, hating the immediate effect Spencer had on you. With just two words, he had entirely changed your mood, leaving you with the yearning that had previously been masked.

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be up.” He said after a long pause.

“You caught me just in time.” You laid back on the bed. “I called you.”

He sucked in a breath. “I saw. I’m sorry Y/N, I must’ve forgotten to turn off airplane mode.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but the small smile on your lips betrayed your true feelings. You then let out a sigh, not wanting to discard your previous frustrations. “You could’ve at least left a note or something.”

“I... I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” Spencer replied, voice weak.

His words made you sit up on the bed. “You can always talk to me, you know that, right?”

On the other side, all the tension left Spencer’s body, the reassurance bringing a smile back on his face.

When you heard his sigh of relief, you collapsed back down on your bed and smiled at the ceiling. “When are you coming home?”

“Soon. Two days, maybe? This should be an open and shut case. We have a textbook definition of a sexual sadist on our hands and-” He stopped after hearing your low giggle. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about this before you sleep.” Spencer nervously laughed. He took a breath before saying, “Y/N, about last night-”

He was interrupted once again, but this time by a voice in the background, presumably Hotch’s, saying, “Reid, we need you.”

You sighed into the phone.

“Y/N-”

“No, go, they need you.” An exasperated sigh left your lips as a sad smile adorned your lips.

On the other side of the line, Spencer closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y/N,” he sighed. “I love you.”

You let out a breath as he quickly hung up.

“I love you too.” You whispered into the dead line.

You placed your phone back on your nightstand as a new wave of loneliness encompassed you. Just as quick as his voice left, so had the serene feelings he gave you. And suddenly you were surrounded by the empty feeling that you had become too accustomed to.

---

It took more than two days for Spencer to come home. Turns out the case wasn’t as textbook as he thought. And with the extra days, you were given time to process everything.

It wasn’t easy. Actually, it was the hardest decision you’ve made in your life. You had been thinking about it for a while, but actually going through with it was an entirely different story. But as you reflected on your relationship in Spencer’s absence, you knew it had to be done.

Tears streamed down your face with every article of clothing you tossed into the suitcase. Every single one of them brought back memories of your relationship with Spencer. From the shirt you wore on your first date, to the sweater you’d cry yourself to sleep in when you were alone. Spencer Reid gave you the highest of highs but when he left, it felt like the steepest crash.

As you were zipping up your case, the door opened and Spencer had walked in. You quickly wiped the tears off your face as you turned to face him.

Spencer’s go bag dropped with a thud when he saw your packed suitcase. “Y/N?”

You bit your lip as his gaze went from your suitcase to you, then back again.

“What is all this?” He asked, desperately scanning your face.

The tears returned and welled in your eyes as you croaked, “I, I can’t do this anymore Spencer.”

He was quick to rush over to you, instinctively raising his arms to hold you, but lowered them after second thought. “Y/N, please.” He begged as his eyes also welled with tears.

You shook your head, words escaping you as tears left your eyes. Your gaze shifted towards the ground as you leaned against your suitcase.

“Y/N...” Spencer started. He gulped as his mind searched for the right words. “I’m sorry it took longer than expected, I thought...” He trailed off, blinking the tears out of his eyes as you continued to avoid his gaze. “Were you really gonna leave without saying anything?” He eyed the suitcase behind you once more. “If I,” he stuttered. “If I had come home later, would you have left? Just like that?”

You immediately shook your head. “No, of course not!” You looked up at him to show your sincerity. But you couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it. It would’ve been easier to leave before he came back and avoid this confrontation. And maybe a small part of you wanted to leave him the way he left you. But he didn’t deserve that.

“Why?” Spencer’s voice came out as a cry, and he used his hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

You took a deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Spencer. The fights, the one-letter texts, it’s draining, Spence. And you’re just, you’re never here.”

Tears fell steadily from Spencer’s eyes as he said, “Y/N, we’ve talked about this. I can stay, I can sit out a few cases, I can...” His voice trailed off.

You shook your head. “You said that last time. Then you were gone again when I woke up.”

The previous argument flashed in both your minds simultaneously. You recalled Spencer’s words, dripped in venom as they screamed, “What do you want me to do, Y/N?! Stay here while people are dying?! Sit out when the team needs me?!”

“I need you too, Spencer!” You had screamed back.

Both of you blinked the tears out of your eyes, the rest of that night coming back to you. When the screaming and yelling had subsided, Spencer desperately tried to assure you he’d be home more often, but you knew they were nothing but empty promises. And the next morning proved you right.

And now as you stared at the man in front of you, you realized the same song was playing, just in a different tune. There will always be another case. And Spencer will always be on that plane instead of next to you.

“It’s just so hard to be lonely.” You sighed.

Spencer turned from you and stepped back. He shook his head and ran his fingers through this hair. “No, Y/N, it’s hard,” he stopped himself, clearing his throat. “It’s hard to leave you here alone, knowing you could be a target at any given moment.” He sighed, stepping towards you once again. “I make so many dangerous enemies because of my job and when I’m out solving cases... I’m not here to protect you.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s hard for me too, Y/N. But we both make sacrifices to make this work.”

“Every time you walk out that door, I’m scared you won’t come back.” You admitted, crossing your arms.

Spencer stepped closer to you as he whispered, “And every time I leave, I’m scared you won’t be here when I get back.”

His words made your lip quiver. You lowered your eyes in shame, realizing that you’re making his fears a reality.

“If I asked you to stay... would you?” Spencer asked.

You sighed. “It doesn’t work like that, Spence. You can’t just undo the last few weeks by asking.”

His eyes darted towards your suitcase once again then he sighed. “No, Y/N, if I, if I could change things, and make it right, would you stay?” He let out a shaky breath before whispering, “Or have I lost you forever?”

His words caused a whimper to escape your lips. “Spencer,” you cried. “When you’re gone, I miss you so much, and I worry about you all day. But when you’re here, we fight and avoid each other, and it’s like you’re gone again. It’s not healthy, Spence. I need a break.”

Spencer sniffled and quietly asked, “How long have you been thinking about this?”

You chewed your lip, thinking of ways to delicately answer his question. “Did you know Sydney got engaged last month?” You asked after a pause.

Spencer sighed. It didn’t take a profiler to know the timeline of your fights coincided with your best friend’s engagement. But he kept quiet as he looked to you to finish.

You looked down and fiddled with your thumbs as you continued, “I was happy for her, of course. But it got me thinking... and looking into my own life, and I don’t know.” You sniffled. “I always thought I’d be married by this age and well,” You looked up to see his face, but his eyes remained on the floor between your feet. “It felt like we were at a stalemate.”

Spencer brought his eyes up to look at you now, and you scanned his face but were unable to tell what he was thinking. You sighed and said, “I didn’t see us going anywhere and I can’t wait, Spence. I need to make a change.”

He visibly swallowed and nervously asked, “Do you want to?”

“Want to?”

“Did you want to go somewhere? With me?”

You let out a small laugh at his awkwardness before promptly responding, “Of course I do, Spencer. But as soon as I realized that, you started to drift away. We talked less, cuddled less, and suddenly we kept fighting... And it just wasn’t the same anymore.”

Spencer lowered his head. “So I’ve lost you?” He softly asked, so quiet you almost missed it.

You shook your head and cupped his face. “No, no Spencer. I’ll always be yours.” You let out a sigh before admitting, “Every night when I close my eyes, I imagine I’m with you on the other side.”

Spencer brought a hand up to wrap around your wrist and used his thumb to rub the back of your hand. He gazed into your eyes and said, “So why won’t you love me?”

The tears in your eyes flowed down your cheeks at his words. “I do love you.” You brought your teary eyes up to look at him. “That’s the problem, Spencer. I love you so much, it hurts. It physically hurts, Spence.”

“But you’re still leaving.” He concluded.

You bit your lip. I don’t want to, you almost said. But before you could think of the right words to say, Spencer softly asked, “Can I show you something?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, but nodded. He gently grabbed your wrist and led you to his side of the bedroom. You took a seat on the bed as he rummaged through his nightstand. He nervously fumbled through the clutter before he finally found what he was looking for, hiding it behind his back as he took a seat next to you on the bed.

Spencer took a deep breath before explaining, “I got this a little over a month ago. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I never found the right time. Then the fights started happening... and now it seems there never will be a right time.” He took his hand out from behind his back to reveal a small velvet box.

You gasped and felt your heart still in your chest. “Spencer,” you whispered. He opened the box to reveal a diamond ring, and tears streamed down your face just at the sight of it. Your hands went to cover your mouth as you silently cried.

“I don’t want you to think I’m showing you this just because I want you to stay. But I feel like I owe you an explanation for the past few weeks.” Spencer gulped before saying, “I want to marry you, Y/N.” He paused for a second, looking in your eyes to see your reaction before continuing, “But I guess I got nervous around you and I might’ve subconsciously drawn away from you.”

You slowly nodded and whispered, “Just like I did to you after Sydney.”

You smiled at each other through your tears.

Spencer sighed as he held the ring closer to you. “I still want that future with you, Y/N. Even after all of this, I still love you and I can’t see myself with anyone else.” He chewed nervously on his lip. “But if you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want the same, you can walk out that door tonight, and we can both forget this ever happened.”

Your hands left your face and wrapped around his free one, squeezing it in reassurance. “Spencer Reid, I love you with my whole heart.” You looked into his eyes and said, “And I want that future with you, too.” He smiled back at you. “But I can’t go back to missing you every night.”

Spencer was quick to respond with, “I can stay. I can request more teaching hours, or consult the team from home.”

You gave him an empty look, hearing those words countless times before.

“I mean it, Y/N.” He looked down at the ring in his hands. “I can do my job without being in the field.”

“Would you be happy with that, though?” You questioned. “Spencer, I know you love your job, I know how badly you want to be out there. This,” you lightly tapped on the ring. “This means nothing if you’re not happy.”

Spencer brought his eyes back up to you and said, “I actually really like teaching.” He smiled. “And as long as I have you, I will be happy.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you blushed at his words. The sincerity in his eyes caused you to fall into his shoulder and sigh into the crook of his neck. Spencer timidly whispered, “Please stay. I can’t see my life without you in it.”

You sat back up to look him in the eyes and nodded. “Okay.” You whispered.

He beamed at you.

You smiled at him before playfully rolling your eyes. “Why do we hold on to each other like this?”

Your faces inched closer as Spencer whispered, “I wish I could tell you, my love.”

Your lips met in a passionate kiss. The remnants of tears fell down both your faces as your lips molded into each others. Your arms went behind his neck, pulling him closer to you. One of his arms hugged your waist and rested on your lower back, the other still holding the ring in his lap. You hummed against his lips, missing the way they felt against yours after weeks of negligence. After a while, you brought a hand down to gently close the ring box, causing Spencer to pull away.

“I thought...”

You softly giggled. “Now you have to surprise me with a real proposal.”

Spencer laughed as he went in to peck your cheek. He rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” you whispered against his lips.

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Text

the love club — miya atsumu

twenty six: the spectacular now

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: thank you all so much for sticking around and watching tlc grow! this smau turned out to be more popular than i thought and i’m so glad for all the support! there were times where i was stuck on the plot and genuinely thought of putting this smau on hiatus,, but i’m glad i pushed through and didn’t. reading each and every one of your comments and reblogs made making this smau really fun. tysm 🥰

also the ‘read more’ link is making this post super glitchy and repeating paragraphs for no reason 😔😔

(continuation of the convos last chap cause i couldn’t fit it in lmao)

atsumu’s chest heavy feeling upon arriving at the last and final train station in tokyo filled him with unnecessary unease. an abundance of worry had crashed upon him in a blasting flurry that even the early onset heat of japan in the spring was the last thing on his mind to complain about.

there were many things that could go wrong with such a flawed plan birthed from suna’s spontaneity. for one, you could very well reject atsumu the moment he finally came into your reach (this was the worse case scenario for him) and it could honestly evolve into something worse knowing his parents would beat his ass if they were to find out he took this trip with nothing but his phone, wallet, his brother, and a friend.

yet at this point, he had nothing to lose.

he was already in tokyo and wasted half his day coming all this way, there was definitely no point in going back and have all his efforts go to waste. if anything, you were atsumu’s pushing force, the strong current that pulled him along with the tides just to see you. he only needed one reason and that one reason was you.

a weary sigh emitted from his lips as osamu’s patted his brother’s shoulder with his free hand whilst the other was carrying a picnic basket. call it twin telepathy or just being plain observant, but the cacophony of atsumu’s erratic thoughts were evident upon his expression for osamu to notice. hell, even a random stranger with half a brain cell would know that the setter was going through some internalized anxiety.

this was osamu’s only way of comforting him as the only thing that would completely wash away atsumu’s fear was for you to take him back.

the feeling of dread didn’t cease for atsumu as it continued in a raging downpour on the way to the convention center in shibuya. the event had already started hours ago and the boys had no idea where to find you—not even kita who was great at taking the lead—he was captain after all.

by the time the four volleyball players entered the largely crowded convention center, they had no other choice but to breathe out their hopes in finding you in the midst of chaos.

“alright, the plan is...” kita huffs as his eyes scanned the bustling crowds that messily serpentined through booths. his gaze met back to the boys who surrounded him with intent written to their faces. a bittersweet smile melted upon his lips as it reminded him of giving pep talks right before games... no doubt he was going to miss it.

“i suggest we split up and find her,” osamu adds in first.

kita shakes his head, “this place is gigantic, it’ll take ages for us to even call and find each other if we do.”

“or i could steal a mic from somewhere and pretend y/n’s a lost child or something...”

“we’re not doing that, suna.”

“damn,” he sighs as he looked down in faux defeat.

a shaky sigh left atsumu’s lips again, “let’s just stick together and try and find her.”

with that the four of them delved into the crowd.

the convention center was certainly bigger than atsumu thought, and he certainly didn't remember the walk from the entrance of the event up towards the dense middle area where he was right now. perhaps it was the simmering and leftover fervor upon entering that his mind was too clouded to even know where he was going. at this point, he wasn't even trying to find you anymore, instead, he wandered the labyrinthine array of booths in self-indulgence until each turn appeared the same and he was back to the same spot he started.

where were you?

atsumu was at the cusp of giving up. even osamu who was supporting him the entire time was starting to complain. with the aching in his arm from carrying a heavy picnic basket of all the foods he made for you and his brother was weighing him back. even suna who was carrying the picnic blanket was sweating just by holding it.

“guys,” the setter sighs in defeat. “i think we should call it a day and—”

suddenly a hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him aback and capturing his attention. atsumu whips his head around only to look down upon a familiar face. a face that filled him with constant warmth and caused his heart to immediately quicken by the millisecond.

it was sudden. too sudden for you to even comprehend that the moment you spotted atsumu’s familiar figure looming over in the crowd, it was game over for you. your legs started walking by themselves as if they were being controlled by your heart rather than your head.

it wasn’t like you to do this, anyway—this confrontation. if anything, you were the type to pretend you didn’t see atsumu’s face, to turn back around into the crowd and act as if nothing had happened. but there was this aching in your chest, an abundance of tightness until it squeezed every last bi of unspoken truths out of your lungs.

was it guilt, sadnass, or anger? love?

you weren’t entirely sure, yet its dissonance couldn’t be ignored. even if you did try and avoid atsumu, you’d end up right in front of him either way.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, the tone in your voice and even to your expression was unreadable to atsumu.

he had no idea if you were excited to see him or if you were completely shocked and wanted him to leave immediately.

atsumu hoped it was the former.

“i–um...” he tried forming the words upon his tongue, but his thoughts were moving too fast for him to even comprehend what he was going to say to you.

hell, he even rehearsed what to say for this exact moment the entire train ride here to tokyo, yet he was completely slipping up.

his usual confidence and somewhat cocky attitude was nowhere to be seen. and it’s even crazy to think that you’re the only one who can make him act this way.

your grip on his upper arm tightened by the slightest bit when atsumu didn’t answer, “i’m about to present, tsumu, i don’t have enough time...”

tsumu?

you still call him that? even after all that happened?

if only he could just melt into your arms right then and there. he was so close to finally alleviating that yearn, but your comforting warmth left his body the moment you let him go.

“i’m here to apologize.” he swiftly answers as you were about to turn your heel, “...even though i’m three weeks late.”

your eyebrows furrow slightly as you teetered your weight back in forth, your nerves building up. atsumu hadn’t seen you do that since your project presentation together. “i should be apologizing too,” you sighed with instantaneous releif coursing through atsumu’s body, “but now’s honestly not a good time.”

“i know, but matsui told me that you might be moving away this summer and i wanted to see you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, cursing to yourself as you felt the sudden influx of crimson blush swearing from your cheeks to the edges of your ears. “so you came all this way?” your voice was a bit shakey.

could he tell you were nervous?

“only because i like you... still”

yup... he could definitely tell.

maybe that slight pinch awkwardness between the two of you was more beneficial that you thought. from the sheepish smiles and stolen glances, it eased you to your surprise. “i can’t believe i have feelings for an idiot.”

atsumu hums in amusement, eyes lighting up when he saw that familiar smirk on your face. “are they good feelings?”

“of course they are,” you scoffed, “why? would you rather have me back to hating you?”

the boy before you shakes his head. “no, i like it this way,” he mutters before pulling you into his chest without a second thought.

it was overwhelming. from how his much broader and taller body embraced you in such familiar warmth to even his scent of honey and mocha. despite being miles away from hyogo, it was atsumu who reminded you of home.

this was nice considering you weren’t exactly planning on forgiving him so easily. perhaps it was the way the moment you spotted his familiar blond undercut in the crowd he towered over caused a switch in your brain to flip. perhaps you miss the way he was right beside you almost everyday.

perhaps you couldn’t keep your distance from him anymore.

pulling yourself out of the hug, your eyes flicker over to a trio of volleyball players standing a good six feet away away from you two. their shoulders basically touched as they all gave you a smile and a wave.

eventually, your eyes dropped to picnic basket in osamu’s hands and the blanket draped over suna’s shoulders.

a slight chuckle emits from you lips, “what’s up with them?” you asked atsumu.

his head turns over his shoulder before looking back down at you. his arms still lingered around your waist as he hesitated to even let you go again. “remember back when we had our date during nationals, we visited the park?”

“so it was a date?” you almost explained.

“it thought it was,” atsumu shrugs, “we saw a couple on a picnic date and you thought it was cute so i figured we could go on one.”

“and you remembered that?” you questioned as you arched a brow towards him.

“every single detail.”

atsumu didn’t have to ask you to go on this date with him. at least at this point, he’d know you would’ve said yes. like what kind of person would reject a date from the love of their life who traveled five hours just for them?

only a idiot would and you were certainly not an idiot... not right now at least.

a saccharine-sweet smile appeared upon your lips as you looked back towards atsumu, “i’m free after six o’clock. you think you guys could stick around for a few more hours?”

“if that’s a chance to meet chef suzuno and eat dessert, then yes.” cut in osamu the moment you asked.

you and atsumu weren’t exactly in the most private of places, so but it wasn’t like you two cared at this point.

suna clears his throat, “um, my parents don’t even know im in tokyo right now, so if i get murdered tonight that’s on you guys.”

“either way, i gotta get home. i have to pack before the weekend ends.” kita adds as he pats suna’s shoulders, “which means you’re coming back to hyogo with me. (y/n) and the twins can take care of themselves.”

“but—!” suna tried to retaliate but was pushed back into the crowd and disappeared to go home.

you sighed in amusement before turning your attention back to atsumu.

“i have to go, now.”

atsumu nods, “samu and i will walk around then before watching your presentation.” he explains but as he was turning over his shoulder, you captured his arm again.

you planted a kiss on his lips. it was much softer than it looked and for a second the commotion around you two seemed to slow.

it felt like it took ages for atsumu to feel your lips against his, but the wait was worth it. his entire plan that ended up failing was worth it. the five hours of his ass hurting from sitting on the train seats was worth it. finding you within this impossible crowd was worth it. you were worth it—more than anything.

osamu fake gagged as he looked at you and atsumu in disgust, “can you two not make out in front of the cupcake display?”

fun facts! —

after the event ended, atsumu and y/n went on that picnic date just in time for sunset while osamu waited awkwardly by the swings

in the end, y/n moved to tokyo after being well liked by chef suzuno

the twins helped y/n pack and osamu even had to pull atsumu off of her cause he wouldn’t let her go 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

because of the long distance, atsumu and y/n go on minecraft dates cause theyre quirky

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smau #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #atsumu fluff

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tsumtsumland · 3 years

Text

“bittersweet”| m.osamu x reader

genre: smut, enemies to lovers

warnings: public sexy time, blowjob, you know...smut... (as you can tell, I’m really bad at this lol)

author’s note: I’m so sorry that this installment is bit late, I’ve had quite a trying week and my motivation has been super low, anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

As a confectioner, high quality cocoa is an absolute must, especially around this time of year, one day until Valentine’s. The problem with that is: almost everyone is looking for high quality cocoa around this time of year. Which is how you find yourself in another part of Hyogo Prefecture, in a little-known gourmet store, which, unfortunately for you, is also full to the brim with people.

You manage to push your way through the crowd just enough to find a spot in the baking goods aisle. Your eyes frantically read through all the labels of items trying to come upon what you need. At last, when you do zero in on your precious cocoa, there’s only one left and you dash towards it.

Eyes on the prize. That’s the only thought in your head right now.

Just as you’re about to grab the tin of cocoa, another hand reaches for it. You lunge forward and grasp on at the same time. Both you and the other person’s grips are tight on the lone tin, and you refuse to budge.

“It’s mine!” you growl under your breath, not looking away from your coveted ingredient.

“I grabbed it first,” comes the low rumble of a man’s voice. Wait…a man???

That has your head snapping up, and what you don’t expect to meet is the apathetic gaze of a tall, (and you begrudgingly admit) handsome, man. He blinks at you with the same expression, as you flounder for a comeback.

“Yeah, well, well I NEED it!” you groan on the inside at your pathetic attempt at a rebuttal.

“I don’t care,” he responds, in the same tone, which only serves to rile you up more.

Both of your grips loosen on the tin, and it’s then you see it, it’s almost imperceptible, but there’s a challenging fire in his grey eyes. Not one for giving in, you match it with a glare of your own, refusing to back down even though his strangely dominant look has you wanting to retreat.

While both of you are caught up in your stare down, you completely miss the other hand that snakes behind you both and snatches the cocoa off the shelf.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this, I have chocolates to make!” you grit out at him, glancing at your watch.

“With what?” is his response as he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Wha-?” you follow his gaze as he nods toward the empty shelf behind you.

All the colour drains from your face, and an almost inaudible squeak escapes your mouth at the barren shelf.

He snorts quietly, “Looks like someone got the one up on us both,” he shrugs.

The nonchalant way he moves makes your blood pressure skyrocket, and you quite literally want to dive at him and clobber his stupidly handsome face.

“This is all your fault,” you mumble under your breath, begrudgingly, letting your shoulders drop in defeat.

“What was that?” he stops, and turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you hiss and push past him, making sure your shoulder nails him in the chest as you do.

You miss the amused smile on his face as you go.

It had been a while since Osamu met someone that piqued his interest. You had done what Suna and Atsumu like to call “the impossible.”

_____________________________________

The atmosphere in the club is hazy, and the heavy bass pounding through the speakers makes everything vibrate. You don’t want to be at this club right now, you’d rather be anywhere than here on Valentine’s in fact. Being the only single one out of all your friends, you’d somehow managed to get dragged here. Now you were stuck sitting by yourself at the bar glancing around hoping for an early escape.

The bartender places your glass of vodka cranberry on the counter, and you almost sigh in relief. At least the alcohol was making this disaster of a night, bearable. When you reach out for it, another hand does as well, gripping the glass at the same time you do.

“That’s mine,” you both say in unison.

The feeling of deja vu almost makes you choke on air. That all too familiar voice is closer to your ear this time, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It washes over your skin like velvet and makes you shiver.

Osamu doesn’t miss the way your grip on the glass tightens when he moves a little closer.

“We meet again,” he smirks, enjoying the way you bite your lip at his voice.

“I wish I could say it was a pleasure,” you snap, eyes narrowing at him, still bitter over your cocoa. You had to make do with regular, cheap, cocoa, for your Valentine’s truffles, and you hated it.

“It could be,” he mumbles into your ear, sending sparks shooting up your spine, “I’m Osamu, nice to meet you…again.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Y/n…and I wish I could say the same,” you brush your hair over your shoulder and try to turn away from him.

“Don’t tell me you’re here alone, dressed like that, on Valentine’s Day,” he adds, giving you a once over in your strappy black mini dress. He was hoping you were. It was sheer dumb luck that he ended up running into you at this club his brother dragged him to, on Valentine’s Day nonetheless.

Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden when you meet his gaze, his eyes are smouldering, and they have you clenching your thighs together.

You think maybe that’s how you ended up here...crammed into a tiny, rather fancy, bathroom stall, on your knees with his cock stuffed down your throat.

Osamu’s got one of his hands gripping on to the door of the stall, and the other is tangled in your hair guiding your head back and forth

You moan in the back of your throat and the vibration on his cock makes him grip your hair even tighter. He’s biting his lip to hold back his own noises when you take him even deeper. You pull back until only the tip is in your mouth, and swirl your tongue around it, then take him back halfway in, flattening your tongue against the sensitive underside of his meaty cock. Something akin to a growl is heard from the sinfully handsome man above you, making you look up at him from under your lashes.

The top three buttons of his fitted, black dress shirt are undone, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his exposed chest. The red lighting from the club extends to even the restrooms, and it makes him look even more delicious…like something out of a movie (what kind of movie is up to you). He’s breathing heavily and looking down at you with that dark, but fiery gaze again. You rub your thighs together, trying to give yourself some friction.

Osamu smirks devilishly when he notices your movements, “You want to cum too, baby girl?”

You can only whine with his cock stuffed in your mouth. He yanks your head back by your hair and meets your eyes.

“Answer me when I talk to you,” the tenor of his voice is low but commanding.

“Y-yes,” you gasp out, taking the time to wipe a stray tear from the side of your face.

Osamu’s thumb grazes over the tear track almost gently, before he pushes your head back towards his cock.

“I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry,” he promises.

That fuels your need to get him off even more, you want to see this calm and collected man fall apart in your mouth.

It doesn’t take long either, a few more thrusts into your mouth that have you gagging on his length, and spurts of hot cum are flowing onto your tongue, you swallow eagerly. He pulls back when you claw at his thighs when it becomes too much. He lets the rest paint your face and exposed cleavage.

When his orgasm fades, he fixes his clothes and helps you off the floor, making sure you’re steady before letting go. He grabs some of the toilet paper, cleaning up your face and chest as much as he could.

“Well, that was…” you begin awkwardly, taking the tissue from him and tossing it in the bin.

“Fucking amazing,” he finishes unabashedly, making a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks.

He tiptoes and looks over the stall to make sure the coast is clear. It isn’t, but it’s less people than there usually is. He drags you out with him despite your squeaks of protest.

You apologize to the few women scattered around the sink and quickly wash your hands and mouth and try to look presentable again. It didn’t exactly work, but hey, at least there weren’t any tell-tale signs of cum on your black dress.

He chuckles when you drag him out of the restroom quickly, trying to lose yourself in the throngs of people. You don’t get far before he pulls you back against him, pressing your ass flush against his prominent erection.

“I owe you an orgasm,” he mumbles against your ear, as if it’s the most normal thing to be saying.

One of his hands snakes over the front of your thighs and up under your dress, ghosting over your embarrassingly soaked panties.

“For me?” he hums lowly, his pointer and middle finger tracing the slit between your legs.

You can’t help the moan that falls from your lips, grateful that the room is so loud and crowded that no one notices, your head nodding involuntarily. You gasp and swat his hand away when you feel his finger dip in between your folds.

“Not here!” you hiss, regaining control of your brain momentarily.

Just as he’s about to respond, someone calls his name and he looks up, removing his hand swiftly and pulling you to his side.

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see an identical copy of the man standing next to you, in front of you, the only difference is his hair colour.

“What do you want Tsumu?” Osamu drawls.

“Ya! Where’d you go?!” Atsumu asks. “Oh hello,” he flashes you a grin and slides closer to you, only stopping when his brother puts a firm hand on his shoulder and shoves him back.

“Back off!” Osamu glowers at him.

Atsumu smirks knowingly at the both of you, though you’re nothing but confused by this entire encounter.

“Go on then,” he tells you both and turns to lose himself in the crowd of squealing girls behind him.

Osamu rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He grabs your hand and follows a different pathway to the exit.

“Where are we going?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Home, I’m hungry,” is his reply, and it makes you clench around nothing in anticipation.

Taglist: @kiyoo-omi @vs-redemption @mitzuya

#miya osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu osamu #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu valentine's #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic

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fancyfearful · 3 years

Text

(Happy International Women’s Day/Women’s History Month, y’all! Please enjoy some quality fun time with a true girlboss.)

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WARNING/DISCLAIMER: Mature/Explicit themes, and ‘potential simp behavior’ are in this fic. Celia is a queen, idc.

Word Count: 2,042

(Edit: I forgot to tag @gatobob , who owns this character, whoops!)

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You were scared at first.

After all, you had gone from being naked and terrified in a dimly lit showroom, to waking up several hours later in a rundown, abandoned office building located far away from your home. A pair of handcuffs kept your wrists bound behind your back, but whomever kidnapped you had been 'generous' enough to dress you in semi-casual office clothes, though they were a bit too loose on your body.

The only thing you knew was that the person responsible for bringing you here had the voice of a matured woman. However, the sound of sharp heels clicking against the ground warned you of their arrival, seconds before she entered the small breakroom where you were being kept.

Upon meeting the well-dressed, businesswoman for the first time, you learned a few things. Her name was Celia and she was noticeably taller than the average woman, even with her heels on. But if looks could kill, then the mocha-colored eyes that looked over your body would've ended your life in seconds. You weren't sure if she was tired, irritated or both but regardless, Celia staring at your body made you feel uncomfortable.

During her 'introduction', Celia informed you that your new purpose in life was to be her personal stress reliever, and that resistance of any kind was unacceptable, including trying to escape. She also pointed out something you had somehow missed earlier; an ankle bracelet attached to your leg. With a knowing smirk, Celia informed you that it came with a built in GPS to make sure that you wouldn't be able to leave without her knowledge. The brunette before you also mentioned something about several other 'secrets' that you'd find out about later, which did nothing to calm your nerves as she casually reached into the hidden pocket on her overshirt.

Celia pulled out a thin, bright red dog collar, dangling it between her fingers before making her way over to fasten it around your neck. She had made it a little too tight on purpose, and when she stepped back to see how it looked, the brunette couldn’t help but scoff.

“There, now you look like the dog you are. I hope for your sake you’ll be easier to train than the last one. It’d be a shame if I had to put down another pet…” Celia warned, dropping her voice to emphasize her point.

“Now, how about we teach you some new tricks?”

*****

The next few days had gone by faster than you expected, thanks to Celia’s rigorous training.

Most of your time was spent acting as living footrest or chair, while she took her sweet time reading through and answering important, work-related emails. If Celia had a good workday, you’d play games like fetch, where she’d reward you with cookies shaped like dog biscuits if you did well. But if you didn’t retrieve an item fast enough, your cruel captor would deliver punishment by whipping your back and torso with her chain flogger. And on bad workdays, you’d be subjected to a game of ‘cat and mouse’, where Celia gave you a few seconds to hide before hunting you down; if you were found in six minutes or less, she would beat you to the point of bruising with the nearest blunt object in the room. The stapler was quickly becoming one of her favourites items to carry around, and even a good workday couldn’t save you from whenever Celia felt the urge to watch you squirm. Her eyes practically lit up whenever she subjected you to several new piercings on your arms or legs, a high only the most forbidden of drugs could provide.

But today—or night, you couldn’t exactly tell what time of day it was down here—was different.

The familiar, yet haunting, sound of heels clacking along the ground was replaced by something that sounded firmer, and heavier in comparison. And for the first time since your arrival, you were worried that someone or something even worse than Celia would find you here.

However, seeing the familiar face of Celia suddenly appear in the doorway of the shabby office that had become your bedroom was bittersweet. But instead of her usual business attire, she donned a skin-tight, black body suit with thigh-high stockings, and her trademark red heels were replaced with thick, black wedges. Sure, you had noticed her figure from time to time, but the sudden style change made it even harder to look away. Instead, you tried to focus on the medium sized bag she was holding in her left hand.

“Ah, there’s my favourite dog. You look surprised to see me.” Celia says, making her way into the room before plopping herself down onto the desk nearby.

Her tone sounded lower than usual, and the end of her words were a bit slurred. If you had to guess, she had probably had a few drinks before coming here, something that wasn’t uncommon. Whenever it happened, Celia was a bit of a wildcard. She motioned for you to come closer, making you gulp nervously as she reached into her bag to retrieve a long chain with a clasp at the end. Sheepishly, you avoid eye contact while Celia attaches it to the collar around your neck, grinning proudly before she roughly tugs on your new leash.

“Now you’re really starting to look like a proper pet!” she comments, only to pat your head in a condescending manner. “And so well behaved too, isn’t that right?”

You nod slowly, feeling your cheeks burn in shame. This wasn’t right. Her backhanded compliments shouldn’t have affected you like this, but these moments with Celia were the only times you could interact with another living being. It was better than trying to keep a stray pill bug for company again, only for it to end up escaping.

“You should be grateful, you know. I turned you into something useful, something with value…” Celia adds, keeping one hand on your chain while the other tightly cupped your chin. “I saved you from being someone’s pathetic plaything. And yet I still have to tell you when to say ‘thank you’. How is that fair to me? Shouldn’t you know better by now?”

You nodded again, only to be struck across the face with a harsh slap. “Answer me!” Celia snarled, her face scrunched up in annoyance. She was losing her patience, and that was the last thing you wanted her to do.

“Y-Yes, miss Celia. I’m sorry for not knowing better.” You replied. “Thank you for giving me value.”

“Good! See, that’s what I like about you. You’re a quick learner, but there’s still something I’ve got to put to the test.” The brunette murmured, letting go of your chin before she pointed to the floor. “On your knees, pet. Let’s see if that face is as comfortable as it looks.”

You were visibly confused as you tried to process her request. Did she mean what you thought she meant, or--?

“Are you deaf? Because I’m pretty sure I just gave you a task to complete. And if you can’t do it, then I’ll replace you with someone who can...” Celia commanded, her voice booming and steady. It was the kind of tone that could melt you within seconds or break you without warning.

As quickly as you could, you dropped to your knees, trying to the ignore the dull ache that came with having them hit the floor too hard. Celia wound the excess length of your chain around her hand a few times, before yanking you towards the space between her parted legs. A muffled grunt escaped you as Celia’s legs wrapped around your neck and shoulders, keeping your face pinned against the smooth leather of her body suit while she kept an iron grip around your chain. The sweet scent of a strong smelling body spray invaded your nose, and although you wouldn’t admit it out loud, the fragrance was alluring.

“Well, pet? I’m waiting. Show me how grateful you are to be here.”

It was at that moment that you started to think she was right. Not because you didn’t miss your old life, or your freedom but because in a weird, twisted way, serving Celia gave you a purpose. And all things considered, your kidnapper could’ve been much worse; she kept you fed, clothed, and even though the building was falling apart, it still provided shelter from the elements.

And with this in mind, you started to kiss along her inner thighs, turning your face and neck as much as Celia’s grip would allow. She wiggled a little, smirking as she watched her current pet creep closer and closer towards one of her most sensitive areas, making the brunette smirk deviously.

With a shaky sigh, Celia pressed her hips forward, testing the waters of her new toy by lightly grinding her crotch against your face. The combination of your tightened collar, Celia’s thighs, and the added pressure of that damned leash was making it difficult to breathe, but Celia didn’t care about your declining oxygen supply. If anything, your struggling only made her legs clench even tighter, and you could barely make out the twisted pleasure on her face as she slowly tried to suffocate you, her eyes twinkling in delight while she leaned back a little.

Your tongue pressed itself up against the thin fabric covering over her body suit, earning an unexpected moan from your mistress before you closing any distance that remained between you two. Any other time, Celia would have punished you for touching her without permission, but in the heat of the moment, your hands wrapped themselves around her thighs, digging your nails into her stocking as your mouth worked to pleasure her as best as you could.

Paying attention to the sounds she made was paying off, making it a little easier to find her sweet spots, but you didn’t dare to move the dampened leather covering over her opening. Not without her say, at least.

But the loud moans and high pitched whines coming from your captor were enough to awaken something in you as well; a small part of Celia was at your mercy, and this was a chance you couldn’t pass up. And so, you doubled down on your efforts, licking, kissing, suckling, and nibbling on every ounce of flesh and fabric between Celia’s warm, plush thighs, using your tongue to express the gratitude that she craved.

Eventually, your efforts paid off in the form of a loud, breathy moan from Celia as she shuddered, clenching her legs around you so tight that your vision went black for a second or two. The bottom of her body suit was absolutely soaked with a mixture of her own juices, your saliva, and a bit of sweat between you both, yet the pleased chuckle Celia let out calmed your nerves. She only made that sound when something good happened.

“…Ooh…Haven’t done something like in ages…” she sighed as she relaxed her grip.

You were able to catch a glimpse of her face, her cheeks tinted bright red as she moved lose strands of hair away from her eyes. The firm, hardened expression typically worn by Celia had been temporarily replaced with a softer, more inviting expression. If it didn’t put you at risk to get kicked, you might even have kissed her. Nothing serious, as it just would have a quick peck on those plump, dark colored lips.

“Don’t look so lovestruck, dog. Just because I had a few drinks before showing up and felt like trying something new doesn’t mean that you’re walking out of here anytime soon. You’re mine for as long as I want you to be.” Celia huffed, yanking on the chain to remind you of your place. And with a sheepish smile, you nodded.

“Yes, miss Celia. Of course. Thank you.”

How you ended up in her possession was irrelevant. It didn't matter.

What did matter, was your value. Your worth. It was about what you could do for Celia, not the other way around. It was about acknowledging your rightful place under the command of a superior entity, and that entity was her.

#tpof #the price of flesh #gatobob #Celia Lede #celia tpof #Celia #Celia being a girlboss? We LOVE to see it!

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anakin-danvers · 4 years

Text

to wish upon a star

Rex x gender neutral!reader

Request: “For a fic, from prompt list #2, "Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," with any character you want to write from the Star Wars prequel trilogy? (Not entirely sure who you write for, do I'll leave it up to you.)” as requested by @valkyriesandbrokenhalos

Description: While on a mission in your home world, you take the time to enjoy the night sky. To your surprise, a certain Clone Captain decides to join you.

Word count: ~2.2 k

Warnings: Fluff. This is pure and utter all fluff. Some drinking! Tinyyyyy bit of angst if you squint to see it. Also, first time writing for our boy Rex so please be kind!

A/N: I decided to do Rex for this fic after a suggestion from @acnini (also special shoutout to her for beta reading 💖)! I hope you all like it, especially you Aro! Thank you for participating in my celebration! 🥳💗

P.S. I have another Rex request I am working on which will most likely be a part 2 for this!!

tags: @acnini , @catsnkooks , @kaminobiwan

—

Sitting in a dinner hall in a table full of tipsy clones was not what you imagined you’d be doing when General Skywalker told you to pack your bag for the mission this morning. But here you are, in your home planet, eating delicacies you’d only dreamt of as a child.

Music bounces off the walls, not loud enough to hurt your ears, but definitely loud enough to make it hard to think. You look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the setting you are in. Usually, you wouldn’t be attending these sorts of things; your position as an engineer for the 501st allowed you to stand on the sidelines, focus on your job and nothing more. But this is a special mission. The meeting General Skywalker has is with none other than the head of foreign operations of your home world Elzu.

The small planet could have been as beautiful as Naboo, were it not for the exploitation of natural resources by the government. By the time Elzu joined the Republic, it was drastically divided. Those who had been part of the group exploiting the resources are still the ones in power now. The rest are left to fend for themselves, many immigrating to other planets in search of a better livelihood. Your parents were part of the latter group, taking you and your siblings to Coruscant when you were about 9 years old. Thanks to their sacrifice and hard work, you now have the job you have.

So when General Skywalker asked if you’d be willing to join him and the 501st to the meeting as a point person for all things Elzu, you were hesitant. Elzu held many bittersweet memories, and you’d only been back a handful of times since your family had left all those years ago. General Skywalker had sensed your hesitation, and asked if instead you could help by giving him a list of the customs of the planet. However, as you were writing the list, you thought back to all the ways Skywalker and the 501st had helped you get to where you are, and knew that the least you could do was help with the trip in person. Though now that you’re here, you’re starting to wish you’d just stuck to the list.

The boisterous laugh of Fives rips you from your thoughts. You blink a few times in an attempt to refocus on the present. You turn to look at Fives, who’s sitting at your table, in an attempt to see what he’s laughing at. When your eyes travel around the other clones in your table and settle on a rather flustered looking Dogma, you have an idea of what Five’s source of entertainment currently is.

In spite of your otherwise uncomfortable feelings, you can’t help but smile. It was rare that the clones of the 501st were so at ease while on a mission. Seeing them all gathered in the main dinner hall enjoying good food made you happy, especially knowing this type of mission would be one of a kind.

The eating and socializing continues, and though you converse with the clones around you, you mostly stay quiet. After deciding you’d had enough to eat, you excuse yourself and walk out of the dinner hall.

You hate to admit it, but the palace you’re currently in is gorgeous. The large and intricate structure was built from different Elzian resources, Elzian marble being the most predominant. As you mindlessly walk down the hallway, you stay close to the wall, the smooth walls leaving a cool sensation on your fingertips. You keep walking around, not really knowing where you intend on going. That is, until you spot a sliver of the night sky.

Your feet make their way to the landing deck on its own. It isn’t until you feel the cool night breeze on your skin that you realize just how hot it is inside. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you step out onto the seemingly unused landing deck. You almost gasp at the sight; the height of the deck makes you feel as if you’re in the sky.

If there was one thing you’d always miss most about Elzu, it’s the sky. It’s easy to forget that there’s even a sky in Coruscant due to the endless bustle of traffic. But that isn’t the case here. No, here, the sky is clear, the stars densely decorating it to look like the most royal of sparkling gowns.

You take a seat directly on the landing deck, sprawling your legs out in front of you and placing your hands on the durasteel ground. Maker, you can almost reach out and touch the stars, pick them like the fruit of a tree, with how close they seem.

“Beautiful night.”

If you weren’t sitting, you would have jumped at the sudden voice behind you. However, as the initial shock leaves you, you recognize the voice, a deep honey voice you never get tired of hearing.

Footsteps approach you, and you can feel them under your palms. They stop as two white and blue armored legs appear next to you. Your eyes follow the legs up to their owner’s face, the brown skin and blonde hair of your favorite person making the feeling of a thousand pairs of wings erupt in your stomach.

“Rex.”

“How are you, nau?”

At the sound of his tone, you know he can tell you’re not feeling your best. You also know there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise.

“I’m doing okay, given the circumstances,” you say.

Lightly dropping his helmet to his side, he takes a seat next to you. You look at him as he mimics the way you’re sitting, legs spread out in front of him, hands on either side of him. And honestly, you can’t help but admire just how beautiful he looks.

Your eyes move from where you see his legs brushing your own, landing instead on his face. You find him looking at you, concern etched onto his features.

“You know how I feel about this place, Rex. It doesn’t hold the best memories,” you finally say.

“I know,” he simply says.

He knows. Of course he knows. He knows because he’s been by your side when you’ve had a few too many drinks at 79’s and spilled all about your childhood hardships. He knows because he’s been by your side when you try to discreetly get information on how the less fortunate of Elzu are holding up with the war. He knows because he’s always been there, with you.

Relief washes over you when you realize you don’t have to explain all the feelings caused by being on Elzu. Bringing up your legs to hug them to your chest, you look up at the sky again, the smile from earlier returning.

“Have you ever heard of shooting stars?”

“Shooting stars?” At his question, you nod. “I haven’t, nau.”

“Well you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His brow raises, and a faint smile paints his face. “Is that right?”

You nod again. “Elzu is known for its shooting stars, sometimes called flying stars. The people of Elzu believe they’re the souls of beings who have passed all around the galaxy as they make their way to their final resting spot. Legend has it they grant wishes.”

Rex laughs lightly, not in a mocking way, but rather in a surprised way. For someone who’s usually surrounded by so many facts, Rex doesn’t expect you to be so invested in old tales.

“Hey, I’m being serious!” you say, a laugh coming out of you as well. “I used to make a wish every night when I was a kid.”

Rex won’t ask what you wished, you know that. He doesn’t want to impose, pour salt on the wound that is already being constantly poked at while being here in Elzu. But either way, you continue, part of you needing to tell him what you wished for all those years ago.

“I’d initially wish for childish things; a new toy or the chance to taste one of those many pastries they have inside. But then the guilt would creep in, and instead I’d wish for the star to bring my family and I stability. Not riches, those weren’t necessary, just stability. Food on the table, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. And the next night I’d do the same again: wish for something childish then scrap it for a worthwhile wish.”

As you finish, you don’t know what you expect Rex to say. You don’t know if you even expect him to say anything. And initially he doesn’t, he sits there next to you in silence looking up at the same sky you’d stare at endlessly as a child.

“Ca’tra.”

You turn to look at him, the word foreign to your ears. For the most part, you knew the phrases of his native Mando’a he’d speak around you. Nau, for example, was what he called you, a nickname of sorts. He’s told you it means light, a nod to the way you two initially met during a blackout on a ship you’d been working on, a flashlight in hand as you bumped in face first to his chest. But ca’tra you didn’t know, so you waited for him to continue.

“It means ‘night sky’,” he explains, and you make a mental note to add that to the list of Mando’a words you have written on your data pad. “I often gazed up at the night sky back in Kamino growing up. It brought me calm whenever I’d feel...uneasy.”

“Ca’tra.” You test the word in your mouth, hoping you pronounced it correctly. At his smile and nod, your heart blooms with pride.

“And though we have no word for shooting star, we do have ka’ra, which means stars.”

Another word to add to the list, you think.

Your eyes go back to the sky, and almost as if on queue, you see the flash of light that filled you with hope as a child.

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish,” you say, closing your eyes to mentally make your own. You wish for progress in the war with as little casualties as possible, you wish for his safety. A whisper of a thought adds another part to the wish: I wish for Rex to stay by my side.

You open your eyes slowly, glancing over at Rex to see if he’s done with his wish. Only, you don’t find him with his eyes closed as you’d had them. He’s not even looking up at the sky. No, he’s looking at you.

For a split second, you forget how to breathe at the sight of his beautiful eyes on you. Taking a small breath, you speak.

“Did you make a wish?” You don’t intend for your voice to be a whisper, but with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t manage anything else.

Rex nods. “Yes, I did.”

You want to ask what it is, but know that the way wishes come true is by keeping them to yourself.

“Well,” you say, your hand seemingly moving on its own will as it lands on top of his. “I hope your wish comes true.”

“I hope so too,” he responds.

You turn back to look at the sky, your hand still on Rex’s. And maybe it’s the glass of Elzian wine you drank, or the fact that you’re looking up at the night sky you spent your whole childhood wishing under, or even the drunken state Rex causes you to be in regardless of the amount of alcohol in your system, but you think you know what Rex wished for. Well, you hope you know what he wished for.

As if to put your mind at ease and to confirm your thoughts all at once, Rex moves his hand so that he’s now holding yours. The cool feeling of the durasteel you both are sitting on makes for a sharp contrast to just how warm his hand feels on your own. Before you have time to process his actions, he hits you with another jolt of electricity when he softly squeezes your hand.

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, because you’re smiling too. You’re smiling the smile that only appears whenever Rex is with you, by your side, safe.

And as the two of you sit under the night sky, you don’t feel the guilt you’d expected to feel at the last addition to your wish. It’s a bit selfish, you admit, wishing for something exclusively for you. But you don’t, can’t feel guilt when all you feel is warm, kind love with Rex by your side.

When the next shooting star paints the sky, you once again wish for Rex to stay by your side, nothing more, nothing less.

#all I want is for rex to hold my hand while we look up at the night skyyyyy #hope you all enjoy!#chasity reaches 100!🥳#captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #captain rex fanfic #captain rex fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #captain rex reader insert #userkarina #usernobie #chasity's work #my work #gender neutral reader #anakin-danvers work

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murdershegoat · 5 years

Note

Eliza and Jeremiah not letting Kara try out for any school sports teams bc her powers give her an unfair advantage so she instead volunteers to become the school mascot and somehow manages to charm her way into cheerleader Lena’s heart

(also on ao3)

maybe it’s her cynical nature, but lena’s not sure how one person can contain as much school spirit as kara danvers seems to. kara who bounces around the halls between classes and has a laugh so loud that it can cut right through even the noisiest of cafeterias. kara who is the only student who can get away with calling Principal Grant ‘The Big G’ and ‘G-Money’ to her face. Kara, who is the only person willing to don a Midvale High Bears costume at every major (and minor) sporting event in which the school is involved.

it’s unnatural, lena decides. a normal person cannot hold that amount of pep. a normal person cannot be that excited by the prospect of spending two hours every other week in a heavy, sweaty bear costume. and lena’s not sure why kara just doesn’t join one of the several teams she mascots for. she’s a bit lanky, a bit uncoordinated, sure, but lena has always noticed the muscles across her body, the biceps and the sharp calves and the abs. god, the abs. and despite kara’s seeming inability to walk ten steps without tripping over something, lena’s seen her land impossible trickshots on the basketball court, seen her run one of the fastest miles as a warm up in gym, seen her throw a football the length of the damn field when she thinks nobody’s look at her.

but the joke’s on kara.

because lena’s always looking at her.

not in like, a weird way. it’s just that they always happen to be around each other. they’re in the same AP classes and have the same lunch and gym periods and they live across the road from each other which means lena regularly sees kara in her front yard doing cartwheels or climbing trees as her sister looks on, uninterested. and now that lena’s on the cheer squad, she sees more of kara than ever before and it’s starting to get on lena’s nerves.

stupid friendly gorgeous mascot.

it’s one of the first football games of the season and lena’s stretching on the sidelines as the crowd starts to arrive. she’s not used to her uniform just yet - it shows a lot more of her skin than she usually does. if she’s being completely honest, she doesn’t even like cheerleading the much. but she’s good at it and it’s good to diversify her college applications just a bit and it pisses her mother off just enough for it to be truly satisfying.

‘looking good, luthor!’ kara calls out as she jogs onto the field with her head piece tucked under her arm. lena rolls her eyes, ignoring the heat she feels rise in her cheeks. she’s not sure why kara always calls out to her specifically when there are about a dozen other girls on the team. she’s heard the rumours about kara kissing girls in bathrooms at house parties. does kara have a crush on lena? the thought alone - of kara pinning her against a bathroom sink at some jock’s house as muffled music drifts through the floors, with beer on their breath and their bodies loose and warm - the thought makes lena’s stomach feel odd and heavy.

lena finishes stretching and moves onto the field grass with the team as they do a warm-up pyramid. the stands are just more than half full and the game doesn’t start for another half hour which means the cheerleaders are going to have their work cut out for them.

‘alright ladies,’ andrea says. ‘get in the three tier formation.’

in next to no time, lena gets hoisted to the very top of the pyramid. but instead of bethany h. catching her left foot, she knocks it hard with the back of her hand and bethany s. loses her own gripping and lena goes tumbling back. she doesn’t even have time to panic as a frightened yell rings out from the crowd, she just accepts her fate of falling to the ground and getting a cheerleading career ending injury. but instead she finds herself safe and secure in kara danvers arms.

‘where the hell did you come from?’ she murmurs as andrea yells at the bethanys.

‘would you believe i fell from the sky?’ kara grins. ‘your own personal guardian angel.’

lena’s stomach flutters as she stares up into kara’s impossibly blue eyes. the moment feels intimate despite the fact a growing crowd stares at them both.

‘could you… put me down maybe?’ lena asks, even though she doesn’t mean it.

kara frowns. ‘oh. right.’ she tips lena onto her feet, her hand staying on the small of lena’s back as she gets her balance right.

‘are you sure you’re okay?’ kara asks, the jest disappearing from her tone.

‘just a bit shaken i think,’ lena says, smoothing the pleats of her skirt.

‘luthor!’ andrea calls. ‘you’re off for the game.’

lena’s mouth falls open in shock. ‘that wasn’t even my fault!’

‘i don’t care,’ andrea says. ‘it was sloppy and you’re currently shaking like a leaf. you’re sidelined for tonight.’

lena scowls as she stalks to the sidelines, pushing past andrea and collecting her bag. she’s not even halfway to her car when she hears someone calling her name.

‘luthor! lena! wait up!’

kara’s jogging towards her, barely weighed down by the ridiculous costume she’s wearing.

‘shouldn’t you be warming up the crowd right about now?’ lena asks as she gets closer.

‘i thought… you did seem pretty shaken up back there. and i know you’re tough as nails but i thought maybe i should drive you home.’

‘you’d miss the game. you haven’t missed a game in three years.’

kara shrugs. ‘some things are more important.’

lena stares at her for a moment, trying to figure out what kara could possibly get out of this situation. but kara stares back at her, that annoyingly earnest smile all over her gorgeous face. lena begrudgingly hands kara her keys and walks to the passengers’ side. she sneaks a glance at kara peeling off the mascot costume, revealing a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra. she puts the bear on the backseat before climbing into the drivers’ seat and lena fixes her stare firmly at the glove compartment in front of her, willing herself not to look at kara’s abs or arms or–

‘you be DJ,’ kara says as she starts the car. barely looking, lena puts it on her favourite radio channel and curses every god she can think of when kara starts singing along with the voice of a goddamn angel.

‘so you have everything, huh?’ lena asks. ‘you’re a genius. you’re popular. you’re genuine. you can sing. what can’t you do?’

kara laughs. ‘well i do suck at parallel parking. and you’re one to talk. on track to being valedictorian. had a paper published about the theoretical use of nanobots in healthcare. wrote an award winning essay for ms. brown’s english class. and you’re a damn cheerleader, too, top of the pyramid.’

‘it’s not as impressive as it all sounds,’ lena mumbles, before noticing that they’ve stopped and kara has (perfectly parallel) parked and is turning off the engine.

‘this isn’t my house,’ lena says.

‘and you’re skills of deduction are impeccable,’ kara adds with a laugh. ‘we’re at noonan’s diner and i’m buying you a milkshake; you almost died tonight.’

‘i did not.’

‘true, but only because i saved your life. which means you should be buying me a milkshake.’

lena smiles but only for a moment. she reaches into the backseat and rummages around in her sports bag. she pulls out a midvale high gym tshirt and hands it to kara before conceding.

‘fine. milkshakes on me.’

kara gets the most complicated milkshake lena’s ever seen, impossibly tall with a donut resting on the whipped cream at the top, and it looks even more ostentatious sitting beside lena’s order of a small vanilla milkshake, hold the whipped cream.

‘how do you do it?’ lena asks. kara raises her eyebrows in lieu of a verbal ‘what’, her mouth filled with milkshake. ‘how do you eat all the junk i see you eat and still look like… that.’ lena gestures to kara’s body.

‘wicked fast metabolism. and i work out a lot. and my foster mom makes sure i eat healthy food for breakfast and dinner. i just sneak the junk in at school and on weekends.’

‘i’ll add ‘eat anything’ to the list of ‘can do everything’.’

‘i can’t do everything,’ kara says, this time with a sad smile. ‘i can’t play the sports i want to play because my foster mother’s read too many studies on dire injuries in high school athletes. and i can’t seem to be fully myself, no matter how hard i try. i’m always just… someone else’s version of kara.’

‘i guess we’re the perfect pair,’ lena chuckles. ‘no matter what i do, it’s never enough for my family, and it’s never as big as anything my brother has achieved. and i’m so sick of being at the top of the damn pyramid and having my life in the hands of the world’s dumbest bethanys.’

‘we should stop,’ kara says, leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘you stop cheering and i’ll stop being the dumb mascot and we can just… be. we can just be. we can just be happy. or whatever.’

lena stares at kara over their milkshakes and she thinks of the rumours of kara with girls in bathrooms and she thinks of how maybe she wants to be one of those girls and how maybe even more than that she just wants kara to hold her again and how angry lillian would be if she found out about kara.

for a moment, she wonders if she could just stop trying to be everything her mother wants and instead just be lena and have fun with just kara and feel like a normal teenager with normal teenaged problems. she wonders if kara is thinking the same thing as her.

but lena knows. she knows that being a luthor means she can never be just lena. and as she looks at the expression on kara’s face - one of bittersweet longing - lena thinks maybe kara carries similar pressures on her own shoulders.

she watches with a smile as kara - with her hands firmly on the table - tries to bite into the donut that bobs atop her drink. she gets whipped cream all over her face. maybe she can’t do everything, after all.

‘here you go,’ kara says, turning the car off outside the luthor house and twisting around to face her. ‘i hope you’re feeling better.’

‘never felt better,’ lena says earnestly. ‘thank you. for driving me home and keeping me company. and making me buy us milkshakes.’ she feels transparent under kara’s stare, like she can read her every thought and feel the way her heart beats wildly in her chest. there’s something in the air that lena’s not sure she’s felt before, an energy in the silence, in the way kara looks at her.

‘i-i’ve heard the rumours about you, you know,’ lena says quietly, unsure if she’s trying to ward kara off or if she’s trying to yell god, me too, i’m the same. ‘what you do with girls at parties. what people say about you.’

kara’s eyes gleam, and her smile turns cocky. ‘weird. because i see the way you look at me, lena, the way you look at other girls. i see you watch me.’

lena remains silent. is this what it is, to be known? to have others look at you and not see what you want them to see?

‘tell me i’m wrong,’ kara whispers. ‘tell me you don’t want the same thing i want.’

‘what.’ lena swallows. ‘what do you want?’

and then kara leans over the centre console. and it’s not a bathroom and kara tastes impossibly sweet instead of like beer, but she’s kissing lena nonetheless. slow and self assured and confident. and lena’s kissing her back, every hair on her arms standing to attention, every nerve ending alight, every neuron in her brain screaming incessantly. kara danvers is kissing her. kara danvers is kissing her and it feels fucking amazing.

‘can i drive with you to school tomorrow?’ kara asks, as they pull apart. and for the first time since lena’s known her, she sounds nervous.

‘of course.’

‘goodnight, lena,’ she says, and lena can’t control herself; she kisses her once more, chaste and quick.

‘goodnight, kara.’

lena floats inside and up to her room, the weight of kara’s lips still dancing on hers. as she reaches her bed, her phone buzzes with a message from kara with nothing other than a long string of indecipherable emojis.

but lena thinks she understands what she’s trying to say; there are several red heart emojis that makes lena’s own heart flutter.

and for the first time in a very long time, lena falls asleep with a smile on her face, looking forward to what tomorrow will bring.

#Anonymous #asks #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Photo

Title: ghosts of christmases past

Theme: holiday party

Fandom / Character(s):Juice Ortiz x OFC! Hazel Morrow.

Warnings: A little bit angsty/bittersweet here. This is kind of Juice and Hazel being stuck on the side of the road together and... internally reflecting on their last christmas together, alone and earlier at the MC. One in particular. Listen, if I’m never gonna write either version of this story, just enjoy these random ass little bits as they come to me, lmaooo. Love you guys.

FYI, the bit in italics is Haze having a bit of a flashback. This ties to the theme, I promise.. It’s theme adjacent...

I made the moodboard thing. Don’t steal or repost/claim as your own.

Word Count: uhh.. 300 to 700+, roughly.

My last intention was for this to... Turn angsty and bittersweet. But alas, here we are.. But don’t fret, it ends kinda.. somewhat happily.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

@chasingeverybreakingwave @sassymox and @kyleoreillysknee are the only people on my Sons Of Anarchy taglist. If you’d like to be on there, dm my main or this blog or click that link belowa nd add yourself.

also gonna tag bb @champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“Sweetie, can you go with Juice into town? Your brother said that Tig and Chibs are sending him after some things for the party tonight and I need a few things too. I’d do it, but I’m kind of enjoying Grandma time with little bit and your nephews.”

My mom thought she was asking the harmless questions. Apparently, she’d completely forgotten how Juice and I can’t even be in the same room anymore without either a shouting match or awkward silence and heavy tension as the air around us filled to the brim with things that hadn’t been said.

And all I could think was that this time a few years ago, before I left town, we were so happy. I thought he was it for me. I thought back then that by now, we’d be settled down. That maybe Juice would be working at Teller Morrow and I’d be teaching or something.

I swallowed hard and nodded. My mom wasn’t going to let me out of this and obviously, whatever she needed was important.

She handed me a list and some money. I tried to shove the money back at her, explaining that I’d pay, but she wouldn’t hear it.

As I went to walk out the door, my mom called out to me. “Juice was a better man than Jase.”

I whirled around, gazing at my mother with my brow raised. “ If this is your way of saying you told me so, Mom… Trust me. Lesson learned.”

“No, I was just suggesting that maybe you use the time you’re out with Juice, you at least attempt to talk to him. I know things went wrong back then, but I also know that if you didn’t still feel something and feel it strongly, you wouldn’t spend so much time picking fights with the poor guy. He doesn’t really have anyone but the club, Hazelynn.”

I opened my mouth but I closed it. My mom had a point. And lately, any fool could see that Juice was really going through it.. He rarely talked to anyone, he was always so damn tense I thought he’d jump right out of his skin. If he did have to interact with me, he was even more tense. Standoffish, even, and that wasn’t like the man I’d known years before. That wasn’t the man I loved. Juice was more easy going and a bit of a joker. Not this tense and serious guy he’d apparently turned into as of late.

I was beyond worried about him. To a point where my own current situation was sort of taking a backseat. But any attempt I’d made to reconnect had been met with annoyance. Bitterness. And deep down, that cut me.

He was literally the one man I’d honestly never wanted to give up back then. But I had to at least try to follow my dreams. I had to at least try living a life free of the MC and it’s dangers and scary situations. I’d just needed a break.

“You know I’m right, Hazelynn. You look at him the way I used to look at Jax’s father. You never wanted to break it off back then. You’re home now. You’re safe. You deserve to be happy. And if Juice makes you happy, maybe you need to stop pushing that down and lean into it. Just a thought, sweetie.”

“Mom, I…”

“No buts. Go. I need everything on that list now, not four hours from now.”

I eyed my mom and after a second or two, I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, stopping to put on a light jacket. It wasn’t terribly cold, but I knew it would get cooler the later in the afternoon it got. I made my way down the hall and into the guest room where I’d put down my little girl Serena earlier after she crashed for her daily nap. I leaned over and brushed my lips against her forehead. “Mommy will be back as soon as she can, okay? Until then, Gramma’s got you. Be sweet, little angel.” I muttered, walking to the door of the bedroom and shutting it quietly behind me so the boys didn’t run in and wake her up.

I’d just walked outside when Juice’s motorcycle as well as my brother’s and Opie’s came to a stop in front of my mother’s house. They were laughing and talking and as usual, the second Juice and I locked eyes, his jaw set and the smile was gone. There was only hurt and bitterness there.

Opie and Jax shared a look and quickly retreated to the inside of our mom’s house and I shuffled my feet, trying to figure out a way to ask if he’d give me a ride to town too. Even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the last thing he wanted to do was have me riding behind him on his bike. Even something as simple as an accidental brushing of bodies lately seemed to make him overly annoyed.

And it hurt.

I knew I’d hurt him. I just wanted to make up for that. But so far, he wasn’t willing to let me.

“Are you going into town?” I asked the question tentatively. Juice stopped messing with the bike to look over at me and then he shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“My mom, uhh.. She needs some stuff from the grocery. I’d go in my car but it’s kind of sitting in Teller Morrow on a jack right now…” I gave a sheepish look and bit my lip, watching his facial expression as he seemed to take forever mulling it over.

“Fine. I’m leavin now though.”

“I’m all ready to go.” I answered, stepping a little closer. I stared up at him intently, noticing just how pronounced the deep circles seemed to be under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping.

,, Oh Juice,” I thought to myself, ,, Why do I feel like there’s something wrong but you stubbornly refuse to reach out.”

He eyed me and bit his lip. For a few seconds, I almost thought he was going to say something. He looked like he wanted to ask me something so badly that it literally almost came out, but he closed his mouth and cleared his throat, nodding to his motorcycle. “Hold on tight.”

I slipped onto the bike behind him, careful to hold on tight but leave distance. Last thing I wanted was for him to get annoyed because I was leaning against him a little.

The ride into town was quiet, only the sounds of the motor and the wind. I shivered a little, wishing I’d opted for a long sleeve beneath my thin jacket too. I’d forgotten just how chilly it got to ride a motorcycle, because I hadn’t done it in so long.

The lights of town were coming into view when things went downhill quick, fast and in a hurry.

The motorcycle got wobbly and Juice swore, pulling over on the side of the road, near one of the canyons. The wind picked up a bit and I hugged myself. Juice kicked at the motorcycle and dragged a hand over his head. A movement which I spent far too long staring at as my mind just kind of… Drifted.

To a Christmas a few years ago, back before everything went so horribly wrong between us.

XXX

“ Baby girl, wake up.”

The warmth of his breath against my ear had my eyes fluttering open and as soon as I saw the bright midmorning sun, I groaned. “Oh no. Mom is going to absolutely murder me.”

“We both crashed. Question, how dead do you think I’m about to be in Clay Morrow’s eyes, scale of ten?” Juice asked the question as he rushed around, grabbing my clothes for me so I could go and jump in the shower. My head was pounding. I knew the few drinks I had the night before at the MC Christmas party had been a very, very bad idea… Especially when you consider that of my entire family, I’m the one who never does things like this.

But last night had been magical. Cuddling in front of a bonfire with Juice, wrapped in a blanket. Stargazing as we sipped cocoa and later, whiskey… and we just kind of really talked about the future. Where we saw things going.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that after I graduated in the spring, I was heading off to UCLA. And that I intended to put distance between myself and Charming for a while. I just.. I needed the break from the rollercoaster of crazy my life had always been. I needed time to process discovering that my father wasn’t the same man as Jax’s father, but Clay Morrow, a man that I really hadn’t ever bonded with. A man that I’d always seen as merely ‘dad’s replacement’.

I didn’t want to ruin our time left together, so I hadn’t quite told him yet.

His arms wrapped around me from behind just as I went to step into the shower in his bathroom and he muttered quietly against the shell of my ear, “Want some help washing off, baby girl?”

I turned to face him, melting against him and biting my lip as I gave a soft laugh and giggled. “Your hands all over me? It’s only one of my biggest fantasies, baby.”

His mouth crashed against mine passionately, our tongues tangling, his hands all over me as he pulled me even closer somehow and mumbled into the deep and passionate kiss, “Love you so fuckin much baby girl. Can’t wait until we don’t have to deal with curfews and all this other shit. When it’s just you an’ me. Our own little family.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and smiled up at him, nodding even though I knew I wouldn’t be around for a while. But not having the heart to tell him…

XXX

“I asked you a question, Haze. You listenin to me?” Juice’s stern tone had my head snapping up and I bit my lip, surveying the blown tire. I finally managed to clear my mind from my memories enough to ask what he’d said and he grumbled, repeating himself.

He’d asked if I had any signal on my cell phone. I handed it over and he took it, unlocking it and promptly pausing.

And in that moment, I wanted to kick myself, because I forgot that I’d taken a photo of him with Serena asleep a few days ago at the MC when she got dropped off there to be watched by Jax and the guys until I finished my shift at the hospital. I’d come in to find her asleep on Juice’s chest, arms around his neck. She’d told me on the way home that she had three favorite uncles now… Apparently, she’d really bonded with Juice.

I told myself that I put the picture on my phone because my little girl was in it. But deep down I knew it was more or less because the two people I loved most in the world were in a photo together and I wanted it where I could see it every time I had a shitty day or a long double shift at the hospital.

He glanced at me, rubbing his hand over his head and held the phone back out in haste. “None. Same as mine. We’re either walkin or we’re standin here all night. Because I don’t exactly have a spare.”

“Shit… I.. I can walk up the road a little, see if maybe I can pick up service.” I offered, starting to walk away before Juice even had a chance to verbally answer. I’d gotten a few feet away from the motorcycle and Juice and I heard him running to catch up, stopping me.

“It’s getting dark. I’ll come with ya.”

“I figured you might want some space, I… you were getting annoyed.” I mumbled softly, staring up at him. His entire expression changed and he sighed quietly, shaking his head no, tilting my chin up when I decided it was better if I looked down and not directly at him.

Because I couldn’t take the pain in his eyes anymore. I also hated that I was the reason it was there to begin with.

Everything had gone so horribly wrong between us and it was all my fault. All because I’d been too afraid to do what I really wanted. Too young, too stupid, too filled with all these big plans. Plans that all went wrong and even if they did go alright, they always felt wrong. I’d never really felt like I was where I was supposed to be.

But since I’d come home?

I hadn’t felt like I was ever supposed to be anywhere else. Maybe I never should’ve left. Maybe then my daughter would have a good father and not some prick of a sperm donor who was already married and wanted no part of her, or of me.

“I wasn’t. It’s just hard bein around you… Knowin that I wasn’t enough.” Juice mumbled quietly and I gave a quiet gasp.

“Juice, you’ve always been more than I deserved.” I found the courage to actually hold his gaze, my brows knit in concern because his words weren’t like him… and somehow, I knew he meant them and that he felt them.

Had he always felt them?

“That’s not why I left…” I started, only to go silent. “I left because I had to know if there was more to life. I needed a break from the craziness and I had a lot on my mind. I was so in love with you that sometimes it scared me.” I trailed off completely, muttering the last part “I wish I never left every single day.” quietly enough that I thought maybe he wouldn’t hear it.

But he did hear it. And he tilted my chin again, leaning down a little, his mouth brushing against mine. “It’s also hard bein around you because I still love you, baby girl. I never stopped. I just thought you didn’t...”

“I didn’t what?” I asked, my mouth brushing up against his with each word that left it. His fingertips dug into my waist and I rubbed against him just a little, my breaths shaky and erratic. Everything coming at me so fast I didn’t have time to process. I waited on him to answer.

“That maybe you didn’t love me.” he finally answered, adding quickly, “I was scared back then too…” his hand caressed my cheeks and he stared into my eyes. The wind picked up and he wrapped his arms around me to try keeping me warm just a little.

“I still love you too.” I admitted it quietly, making him blink in shock when his eyes met mine. He swallowed hard and started to tenderly move his hands up and down my sides, one hand stopping to caress my cheek all over again.

“First.. We get off the side of the fuckin road.. Then, baby girl… when we get back to the MC, we’re going to have a serious talk, okay?”

I gave a soft laugh and nodded. “Okay. That’s fair enough. Let’s go try to find a spot with some service, yeah?”

“Yeah, even though I don’t wanna let you go right now.”

“You have all night to dance with me and hold me.. Like that last Christmas party we went to back then.. I’ve missed us so much.” I pointed out, making him nod.

Nothing mattered but getting back to the MC. Because I had so much I wanted to say. So much I needed to do to make things right again. To show him that I loved him and I’d missed him every single day I was away. That I made a huge mistake back then and I was so sorry.

#12daysofchristmas #12 days of christmas #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz imagines #my writing; juice ortiz #my fics; juice ortiz #my moodboards; juice ortiz #this might be a lil angsty i warn

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razieltwelve · 3 years

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Sheep Dragon Developer Notes #1 – Writing a Collection

Unlike the books in the main part of The Unconventional Heroes Series, The Sheep Dragon and The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company are collections of short stories. Writing a collection of short stories can be a very different process to writing a single full-length story. In this post, I’d like to talk about some of the things I considered while putting together The Sheep Dragon. I’ll start off with some general comments before getting into the specifics. Naturally, the latter will involve some degree of spoilers, so it’ll be hidden behind a ‘read more’ line.

Simply put, a collection of short stories generally works best when it’s not simply a group of totally unconnected stories thrown together, so you can pad out your word count. Readers have expectations, and failing to meet these expectations can result in disappointment for both the reader and the writer.

Imagine you’re a reader. You buy a book, and the first few short stories are all high fantasy. You’re feeling pretty happy… and then the rest of the book turns out to be hard science fiction. Yeah. You’re probably not going to be the happiest person in the world. If you bought the book thinking the whole thing would be high fantasy, having it suddenly become something else would be very disappointing. Likewise, imagine buying a collection of short stories where the first few stories are all happy-go-lucky light-hearted tales… and then the last few are just unrelenting tales of utter brutality and horror. Again, you’re probably not going to be very happy about it.

Many of the best collections of short stories are thus designed around themes, genres, or overarching stories. This gives the reader what they want while allowing the individual stories to each support each other. A good example of this would be humour. Getting someone to laugh can be hard, but if you’ve already gotten someone in a good mood, it’s a lot easier. Putting funny stories together can often amplify how amusing readers find them. In a similar manner, anthologies of horror short stories can work very well because reading chilling tale after chilling tale can really add another level of creepiness to each story.

However, there’s more to putting together a collection of short stories than simply ensuring they all fit together in some way (e.g., genre, themes, etc.). You also have to consider how the stories are arranged. That is, which story goes first, which story goes second, and so on. This can be more important than you think.

The first story in a collection often sets the tone of the entire collection. If you lead off with a very dour, serious story, then all of the stories are going to be judged against that standard. That story will also set the reader’s expectations. They will expect more stories in a similar vein. In contrast, leading off with a light-hearted, humorous story has the opposite effect. They are going to expect the subsequent stories to be similarly light-hearted and humorous.

Now, this doesn’t mean that all the stories in a collection have to have the same tone. In fact, you can have very serious stories in a collection of otherwise humorous tales. It’s all about placing them correctly. Let’s say you have fourteen stories in a collection. If four of them are more serious and the other ten are more humorous, then you can either try to lump all the serious stories together or spread them apart. Which approach you take depends on the sort of mood you want to establish.

Spreading the serious stories out prevents the mood from ever getting too serious. In contrast, putting them all together will establish a more serious mood overall. If you do this, you need to consider where to have the block of serious stories. At the beginning? In the middle? At the end? Most of the time, the general impression a reader has of a collection will be informed by the beginning and the end of the collection. Ending on a serious note will leave that impression with the reader. Putting the block of serious stories in the middle will allow the reader to be left with a more light-hearted impression since the collection will start and end with more humorous stories.

Neither approach is inherently superior to the other. It all depends on what impression you’re trying to give the reader.

Now, here’s where I’ll start talking in specifics. Turn back if you want to avoid possible spoilers for The Sheep Dragon.

The Sheep Dragon is a collection of short stories set in The Unconventional Heroes Series universe. As such, it makes sense for the themes, genres, and overarching story to all match the source material. This means that the general tone was always going to be fairly light-hearted and humorous with an emphasis on fantasy and telling more of the story related to the characters.

It was for this reason that I wanted to lead off with a story like The Convention. Not only does it provide more detail about Timmy and Katie but it is also a light-hearted story that focuses more on the humorous aspects of being a necromancer. I wanted to set that tone right away and reassure readers that this collection would not be departing too dramatically from the tone and feel of the main series.

That said, the second story Fairy Tale has a somewhat darker undertone. Admittedly, there is still a good deal of humour in it, but the subject matter is definitely more serious. This still works, however, because of the characters involved. Avraniel’s past has been hinted at multiple times throughout the series, and it’s been implied that it wasn’t pleasant. Therefore having a bit of unpleasantness in her recollections makes sense. However, that is also contrasted by the humour involved. She turns out, as usual, to be a better person than she thinks who ends up accidentally being a hero. Her current circumstances also lighten the overall tone of the piece since her present is a lot happier than her past.

Perhaps the archetypical story of the collection, though, is The Sheep Dragon. One of the most consistent themes in the series is the idea of family and friendship. Our heroes didn’t exactly go looking for friends and family, but they might have inadvertently found both during their adventures. Spot, the young dragon, embodies this more than anyone. Dragons are repeatedly described as harbingers of destruction who care little for the damage they wreak or the lives they ruin. They are less people than forces of nature.

Spot is a person, and he is a people person too. He wants to have friends, and he’s not particularly worried about whether those friends are humans, sheep, three-headed dogs, or ninja rats. What matters to Spot is that they are good people. This is something that the series as a whole buys into. Timmy and Katie are necromancers, sure, but they are good people too. And just because someone is a rat doesn’t mean they can’t also be a good friend and a loyal comrade. Family and friends aren’t always the people you’d imagine they would be, but that doesn’t mean they can’t make your life a far better place.

Many of the stories in the collection follow similar themes. Are heroes are all people who have, in some ways, been lost and have either found themselves or are in the process of doing so. Look at Gerald. For a man whose magic is monstrously powerful (you could make a decent argument that it might be the most powerful and versatile magic in the series), he has basically zero confidence and struggles to handle himself not only in combat but also in social situations. The Worrier tries to explain why that is, as well as showing why he doesn’t just abandon the others at the first sign of trouble. Gerald is a man who has been looking for his place for a long, long time. Now that he’s found it, he might well have found his courage too. The same could be said of the ninja rats in It Takes A Village.

You’ll notice that the more serious stories tend to be toward the middle. That’s where The Prodigy is, and it might well be the most serious story of the bunch. Old Man’s past has been hinted at before, albeit more obliquely than Avraniel’s. What has been mentioned in the past has not been pleasant. After all, what could make a man abandon his homeland and even his name? Well, The Prodigy adds some more detail without giving everything away. It’s a bittersweet story in many ways because it shows the tragedy that set him down the road that would make him a legend while also showing the happiness and friendships he had before, somehow, it all went wrong. Given how powerfully he must have been at the time, the reader is left wondering what could possibly have happened.

The later parts of the collection are more light-hearted, but there are still undertones of more serious issues. A Young Dragon’s Hoard is a fine example of this. Much of the story is humorous. After all, helping a dragon make a rock garden is likely to end in a combination of amusement and barely averted disaster. But helping Spot learn and grow must also come with discussions of topics that have the potential to be sad. In particular, his lifespan. Yet, despite knowing he will likely outlive almost all his friends, Spot remains undaunted. He accepts the possibility of pain but argues it will be worth it because of how much he cares for his friends. This might be bittersweet, but it also fits in perfectly with the general themes of the collection. Friendship and family matter, and even if things aren’t always perfect, they’re still worth fighting for. The world, for all the ugliness it can contain, is still a beautiful place for those who’re willing to stop, make friends, and enjoy the sights – a lesson that Amanda can relate to in The Coven Conundrum.

Overall, what I wanted to do with The Sheep Dragon is not only write something that helped add detail and backstories to the characters but also write something that made the reader smile. The sadder moments (e.g., Spot’s realisation about his lifespan) are also a part of that because they contrast with the more light-hearted moments. The idea is that even if life isn’t always perfect, it is, for the most part, still a happy thing, and one worth fighting for. And what matters isn’t necessarily the journey but the people who’re taking it with you. The collection itself was meant to convey that message, from the solitary tales that often have a sadder tone to the happier, brighter tales of the present where the gang are together.

As Spot might say:

Every day can be a wonderful day if you’ve got your friends with you. And if you haven’t got friends? Well, today might just be the day you find some!

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#writing #writing advice #the sheep dragon #the unconventional heroes series #short stories

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kookadoodle · 5 years

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moonchild, don’t cry (Pt. 1)

PLOT: Getting an internship at the local marine hospital gets you close to a dimpled boy and his bottlenose dolphin.

PAIRING: Namjoon x reader GENRE: fluff, angst, animalrescuer!AU WARNINGS: injured dolphin WORDCOUNT: 3k A/N: inspired by dolphin tale and joonie’s love for sea animals x

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Taking a summer intern job at the local marine hospital was not your idea. It was your uncle, who offered you the internship in front of your parents, and the three of them quickly agreed before you could even begin to decline. That is how you find yourself with an almost fully booked summer. You thought that you were going to spend the holiday lying around on the beach with your friends, but apparently, you will be feeding fishes and cleaning aquariums instead. You are not exactly thrilled about it to put it nicely.

You park your bike and lock it up before you dare truly looking at the place. The strong harbor scent is already present, and you just know that by the end of the day, you will be smelling like fish. The place is fairly big with white exterior paint and blue marine lettering. It looks clean but used and actually surprisingly vacant. You hope that you did not get the time and date wrong when you walk up to the front entrance without a face in sight. However, when you pull the door, it opens, and you can walk right in. You enter a wide and open room that stretches down two hallways on both sides with a front desk centered between them. It is quiet, and still, you are the only person around. The walls are painted white but with blue waves at the bottom part that matches the color of the floor to illustrate the ocean, and the salty scent from outside is present in here as well. There are posters up of several types of sea animals and relevant information about the hospital, among them, a few certificates that prove the legitimacy of this place despite it looking a bit rough around the edges. You are not sure of where to go, so you choose to wait around for another minute as your uncle had told you that you would be met when you arrived. Before the minute is up, you hear someone coming down the hallway on your left. A tall guy steps out, dressed in black long-sleeved swimwear and hair dripping from its light brown tips down onto the floor beneath his feet. At first, he seems a bit frazzled, but when he meets your eyes and smiles at you, he emits a comforting calmness. “Y/N?” he asks as he steps closer to you with a kind look in his eyes, gesturing that he knows who you are. You nod at that, figuring your uncle must have sent him. “Welcome, I’m Namjoon. I’m sorry I made you wait but we have had quite a busy morning,” he grins apologetically. “Oh, it’s okay,” you smile as you shake his warm yet moist hand. It is expected, considering his line of work. “Follow me,” Namjoon says and heads back the same way that he came, now with you at his heels. “Normally, I would show you around first, but right now, we kind of need all hands on deck,” Namjoon explains as he rushes through the rooms, looking back at you once in a while to make sure that you can keep up with him. You do not get to see much of the place other than the few fish tanks that you pass since you focus on what he is telling you. Luckily, he makes sure to not lose you by adjusting to your pace as well. “Sure, but why? What’s going on?” you ask interested as it seems out of the ordinary. The two of you reach a pair of glass doors that lead outside, and Namjoon opens them up, so you can pass through. He leads you out into the back of the aquarium, where the outdoor pools are. The area is closed but the only roof is the clouded blue summer sky above. “This morning, an injured dolphin was stranded on the beach, so we took it here to rescue it,” Namjoon explains, still being a bit ahead of you. “We aren’t that many working today, so we all have to help out. You can just watch, of course, don’t worry,” he adds, looking back at you with a reassuring smile. Soon the small above ground pool comes into view. The rest of the workers are there, two in the pool and two more beside it, looking down into the water. Your uncle is there too. As you get closer, you realize that the two workers in the pool are actually supporting the injured dolphin as they carry it around in the water, holding it from both sides. Your uncle notices you then and smiles. “You’re here, good,” he says calmly as he sees the two of you approach. Namjoon is quick to take off his sandals and climb into the pool to take over for one of the workers. He reaches under it carefully and they shift the dolphin’s weight onto his forearms to support it. The dolphin looks quite young, but it must still weigh too much for one person to carry it alone. You stand next to your uncle and merely watch as Namjoon and the other worker walk around in the water with the limb dolphin in their arms. “What happened to it?” you ask your uncle as you watch it with saddened eyes. Your uncle sighs. “She was lying on the beach this morning, wrapped in rope from some fishing gear that had cut into her skin. Luckily, Namjoon found her just in time for us to save her,” he explains. The fact that Namjoon did not take credit when he explained the situation to you tells you a lot about him. From the serious look on his face, you can tell that he cares more about the dolphin’s well-being. “How is she doing?” you ask. “We took good care of her, so she’s already doing better, but she is very tired and needs time to heal,” your uncle explains. “She can’t swim on her own right now, so we need to help her,” he adds to that. You nod in understanding as you watch from the bittersweet sidelines. “For how long?” you ask, looking at your uncle’s worried face. “It’s too soon to tell,” he says, frowning at the sight of the bottlenose dolphin in his pool. This was not at all what you had expected today.

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Most of your first day is spent watching the employees of the place do their jobs, seeing to the animals that are staying in their care. Originally, you have been assigned to Namjoon as your mentor, but taking the out-of-the-blue task that he is busy with, you end up following a few different workers around to see the place and get a feel of what kind of things, they do here. Some of it lives up to your expectations, and some of it does not. You had expected the cleaning and the feeding, but when you see the workers’ direct contact with the animals, you are left a bit surprised. The animals all generally seem to be thriving here, and they light up when they see their caretaker friends coming their way. It already changes your view of this place, thinking that you would like to have that impact on the animals as well. However, one thing keeps coming back to your mind. You keep thinking about Namjoon and the rescued dolphin outside by the pools. How are they doing? Is there any progress? you question in your head along with a thousand other thoughts alike them. You worry despite not even having been here for very long, and as soon as you get a break, you make your way outside to check on them and feed your own curiosity. Reaching the above ground pool, you soon have a clear view of the dolphin and its current helpers. It seems that there has just been a switch, since Namjoon is stepping out of the pool and bundling up the bottom part of his shirt to twist it, making water drip onto the ground beneath. During the act, he looks up and meets your eyes, smiling friendly at the sight of you and showing off a pair of dimples in the process. “Y/N, how are you doing so far? Did they show you around okay?” Namjoon asks concerned, and you wonder if he feels a bit guilty about neglecting you on your first day. You merely smile in return. “Yeah, everyone’s been nice, and I got to meet some of the animals, so I’m doing good,” you answer relaxed, wanting to ease his worries. He nods, seeming happy with your response. “Have you eaten anything yet? I’m heading towards the cafeteria to get something myself, so you can come with me if you’d like,” Namjoon then offers as he steps into his sandals that lay by the side of the pool. He makes his way towards you, and as he looks at you, you nod. “Sure, I could eat,” you smile and turn to walk beside him as the two of you head inside. The cafeteria is not far away, and you do not talk that much, but it is okay. The whole atmosphere here is very relaxed and comfortable. Namjoon shows you the different foods and treats you yours as a welcoming before you sit down together at one of the tables. Being a small and local business, it seems that the employees control their own schedules and breaks, so it really is just the two of you in the cafeteria right now apart from the ones cleaning around you. You sit across from each other and as you screw off the lid of your juice, you clear your throat. “So, how is she doing out there?” you ask before taking a sip. The question causes a sigh to leave him and a light frown to dust his face. “Well, considering it’s still pretty early, I think she’s doing okay. She won’t really move that much, but her breathing is steady and calm, so I think she knows that she is being taken care of,” Namjoon explains. His tone is serious, but still light in a way that welcomes your question. He is your acting mentor, so it is only appropriate that he answers these types of things. “I’ve heard that dolphins are pretty smart, so it makes sense that she would know, I guess,” you say, and Namjoon nods. “Yeah, they are intelligent creatures, so I think that she can sense it in a way,” he smiles warmly, seeming to already be attached to her. He was the one, who found her this morning, so you can understand. Saving someone only really feels good if it succeeds, so you get why he is worried for her. Yet from the look in Namjoon’s eyes and the tone of his voice, you have a feeling that she is in very good hands with him.

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

After lunch, you and Namjoon return to the pools to get back to work. There has not been much progress, but you were only gone for about half an hour, so what is there really to expect. Namjoon slips out of his sandals and enters the pool to once again take over for one of the employees. The girl smiles relieved and stretches her shoulders from the slightly uncomfortable position. “Thanks,” she says as she makes her way out. “Hi girl,” you hear him say to the dolphin in a calm voice. You can see that Namjoon does not just hold her, he embraces her to make her feel comforted as she is carried around in the blue water by him. “How are you doing?” he asks softly, making sure to not make any sudden movements or cause stress for her. It is a sweet act, indeed. Just then, he looks up and meets eyes with the guy across from him. “What about you? You should rest too,” Namjoon says to point out the hard work that his coworker has done so far. The guy sighs. “I know, but everyone is busy with something right now…,” he says. “It’s okay to take a break, go get something to eat. You are not worth much in this state, anyways,” Namjoon grins as he expresses his concern. The guy smiles at that yet seems hesitant. “Yeah, well, you can’t carry her alone, so I can’t go before someone takes over for me,” he answers, not wanting to put the whole burden onto one man. It makes Namjoon lift his gaze further to fall on you, and you can see it in his eyes that he wants to suggest you take his place, but he retracts. You figure, he feels bound by the promise that he made earlier, but he should not. You might as well do something, and this seems pretty straight forward to do. “I can take over for you if you want,” you offer, and you catch the brief smile on Namjoon’s face, when he hears you speak the words, he did not dare to say. The coworker looks up at you as he shifts to your direction, and his brows rise. “Really? That would be a big help,” the guy says, and you nod in confirmation. “I should probably change though, but I didn’t bring anything,” you then say, looking down at your regular clothes. “Your uncle is in his office, he can get you something to wear,” the guy states friendly, which makes you turn on your heels. Luckily, they do have some swimwear for you to borrow, and when you return to the guys, you are dressed more appropriately for the task. You climb into the pool carefully, mirroring the way you saw the others do it. The water is warmer than expected, and you feel it surrounding you as you step down from the small ladder into the pool. You have always enjoyed the slight weightless feel and having grown up by the seaside, it makes you feel at home. “You can talk to her a bit first, so she gets a feel of who you are,” Namjoon says to you, and with that, you gently make your way to the dolphin and look at her more closely. She is beautiful, you think. Smooth and shiny with dark kind eyes, but you know that despite the slight smile she wears, she is not nearly as joyful inside. She is worn out and hurt, and it breaks your heart to know that she cannot truly express it. “Hello, I’m Y/N,” you start off in your most gentle tone. “I want to help you, okay, so don’t be afraid,” you explain. You know that she does not understand what you say, but hopefully, she can sense your intentions. With Namjoon’s agreement, the other guy carefully let’s go and makes room for you to take his place. You then look at Namjoon, who nods in confirmation. He does not seem too troubled carrying her alone, but you bet that he would get tired out very quickly if he had to do it over a longer period of time. “Okay, so gently approach her side and place your arms beneath her, so that she can lean onto you,” Namjoon instructs, and you do as he says, moving closer in a calm motion. “Where should I hold her exactly?” you ask as you are unsure of where you can support her weight the best. “Find my hands first,” he starts softly, and you nod while carefully moving your arms underneath her. With a soft touch, you sense around until your palms land on each of Namjoon’s hands. Holding them there as you wait for him to guide you further makes a blush threaten to expose itself across your cheeks. Normally, you would not so easily be affected by a touch like this, but with Namjoon’s warm and inviting nature, it simply feels more intimate in a way. Luckily, you manage to distract yourself from your flustered thoughts. “Then place yours next to mine,” he says. You move them from his hands to her skin, and you watch her reaction to make sure that she is not startled by you. Luckily, she seems to approve. Her grey surface feels warm and smooth yet is of an almost rubbery texture that makes her both soft and robust at the same time. You have never touched a dolphin before, and when you stand here and look at her resting in your arms, you suddenly feel very fortunate to get to. You can start to understand why Namjoon seems so invested in her. “Are you okay?” he then asks, checking in on you as he worries it will be a bit overwhelming, but to his surprise, you are actually fine with it. Excited, almost, to be a part of her recovery even if it is just through a simple act like this one. “Yeah, I’m good. She really is stunning, isn’t she?” you ask, finding her breathtaking, and it puts a smile on Namjoon’s face. “She is,” he agrees, looking at her with adoration. The two of you slowly step around in the pool in a circle-like motion to give her the sensation of swimming that she is used to from being out in the ocean. “Will she make it?” you ask, though you know that he cannot possibly tell yet. “I hope so. I believe in her,” Namjoon answers warmly, and you meet his eyes with a smile that he returns. “Does she have a name yet?” You ask as well, and he sighs. “No, not yet. I haven’t really thought of anything,” he states, furrowing his brows lightly. The two of you think to yourselves to come up with something fitting. Suddenly, you notice a small mark on her tale, shaped into a half-circle, and you gesture to it with a brief nod. “What about Moon?” you ask. Namjoon looks to where you nodded and finds the mark as well, making the connection between the two. “Yeah, I like that,” he says with a soft smile, and with that, you both agree. Moon, it is.

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the-foxes-fangs · 5 years

Note

(that-otome-potato) I was thinking... from your point of view, how would your version of Mitsuhide and his mc handle a huge fight? Like one where she left his palace to go back to Azuchi and wouldn't talk to him? I need to take my mind off of how chapter X ended...

OOoh that’s a good prompt, thank you!

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Her fury was as rare as it was unyielding. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t noticed the icy distance in her eyes until it was too late to assuage it with a simple concession, a kiss, a teasing joke to remind them that even if they didn’t agree they were still on the same side.

They had just secured a fragile alliance, and she had witnessed the visiting warlord beating his page and simply refused to let it go, damn the consequences.

He couldn’t help respecting her sense of justice even when it was as irritating as the noise of a mouse gnawing at a wall, as it was now.

They had gone back and forth, he countered her every suggestion with a list of reasons why the comfort of a single page was far less vital than the peace of an entire region, treating the conversation as if he was discussing tactics and strategy, trying to talk her out of trouble with potential compromises, not paying enough attention to the hard glitter in her eye.

He had then managed to toss a lit taper into what turned out to be a powder keg, asking “little mouse, why do you care so much?”

It would stand in his memory among the most spectacular rhetorical failures of his career.

He saw the mottled red flush rise up her throat at the same time that her eyes turned as hard and sharp, her expression as distant as a snowy mountain peak, and just as cold.

It wasn’t the anger, it was the disappointment with which she looked down on him as she rose stiffly.

“Why don’t you?” She said, voice as as flat and chilly as a frozen lake.

He knew better than to let his frustration add wind to the tempest but his own chest was tight at the sight of her, hands in tight fists at her side, stubbornly refusing to listen, refusing to see the larger picture.

“Perhaps I simply have more important matters to think about than what is, whether you like it or not, a perfectly normal part of the relationship between vassal and lord.” He said, matching the cold in her tone.

“Well don’t let me distract you from such important matters, in that case.” She said, so coldly that it should have withered the flowers on the shelf with frost.

She stood perfectly still for a moment, before she curled her lip in disgust as she turned away. He had expected that she was simply leaving to cool down, had expected that he would find her in the room she had turned into a workshop upon taking residence in his manor, her usual refuge.

Until he saw a glimpse of her, bag in hand, and heard her tell a startled maid she was returning to Azuchi.

He nearly rose to follow her, to go out into the street and tell her that he was sorry, to take her hand, but he pressed his lips together into an angry line and sat drumming his fingers on his desk instead. If she wanted to turn this into a match of wills, so be it.

He tossed and turned alone in bed, alternating between anger and regret as he felt the cold space where her body should have been. They rarely fought in earnest, which made him feel even more irritated by how he had allowed something so trivial to come to this. He tried to shake off the guilt he felt at the idea of her alone and probably crying. It had been her choice.

The morning passed as he worked furiously, the entire manor pregnant with tension as the maids and his retainers practically tip-toed around with curious eyes.

Their devotion to each other and the unified front they presented to the world was unusual enough to have been the subject of gossip in its own right, and now she wasn’t even speaking to him.

He rose and took his documents in hand and headed to the castle to make his report to Nobunaga.

She was nowhere to be seen on the way to the Tenshu, which he found irritating in its own right, since it would force him to either go to her with no excuse, or leave things to fester in silence for who knew how long.

He made his report and waited to be dismissed, grumbling inwardly as Nobunaga studied him with calculating curiousity.

“Our chatelaine has returned to her residence here. I expect you can explain this turn of events?” He asked, coldly.

“We had a… minor disagreement, my lord. Too trivial for you to concern yourself with.” Mitsuhide answered glibly.

“I’ll be the judge of what is and isn’t trivial, Mitsuhide.” Nobunaga responded, adding an amused snort. “Have you taken steps to rectify the situation?”

“I feel it might be unwise to act hastily.” Mitsuhide said, keeping his smile carefully fixed in place.

“How unusual it is to see you letting your feelings interfere with your goal.” Nobunaga replied, tapping his fan in the palm of his hand thoughtfully.

“This is hardly analogous to a political negotiation.” He said, eyes narrowed at Nobunaga’s self-satisfied smile.

“Is it not? I see two former allies at odds, each waiting for the other to open negotiations. Of course, if I were you, I would simply give the other side every concession, given that you stand to lose nothing but a little face and gain that which you most want.” Nobunaga replied with a shrug.

“I would gladly do so if the concessions were wholly mine to give.” Mitsuhide countered sharply.

“Is that all?” Nobunaga asked, with a decisive snap of his fan. “I trust your diplomatic skill implicitly. Do whatever you see fit.” He finished, with a gesture of dismissal.

Mitsuhide rose to leave, and paused at the library to write a hasty note, passing it to a maid. He plodded out of the castle to wait impatiently on neutral ground.

He saw her coming at last, walking resolutely toward the tea house, dressed gorgeously for the evening’s celebratory banquet, her proud demeanor adding an unusual touch of stateliness to her beauty that set his pulse racing. She nodded at him and sat beside him.

“This isn’t right.” He said softly, turning ostensibly to adjust her hairpin, to touch her cheek lightly.

The afternoon sun was soft as it felt across her face and he watched her expression begin to thaw.

“No, it isn’t.” She said, fixing him with a penetrating gaze.

“I’d never have guessed you were such a devastating tactician.” He said, offering her an honest smile. “But you know exactly how to turn the tables on me.”

She reached out to take a strand of his hair between her fingers, with a bittersweet smile. “This wasn’t about leverage. I’ve been angry, I’m still a little angry but–” she paused with a sigh.

“I know that we have very different experiences and ideas, but I’ve always believed that we share the same principles. I can’t just stop caring. I won’t.” She finished, a quaver in her voice.

He sighed audibly and reached for her hand. “You wouldn’t be the woman I love if you did.”

She knit her fingers through his and he saw the faint beginning of the gentle smile he knew and loved. “I know it’s not unusual to you, but I just can’t accept it. What’s the use of all this struggling for power if nothing really changes?”

He draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer, kissed her forehead tenderly. “I lose sight of that sometimes and I need you by my side to remind me. Perhaps a bit less forcefully, but I’m aware that I can be…”

She cut him off with a soft laugh. “A condescending jackass?”

“You’ve made your point, my dear.” He replied, dryly.

“Well, I’m a jackass too.” She added. “There’s nothing I hate more than feeling powerless, and I took that out on you.”

She craned her face up to steal a quick kiss with apologetic eyes. He held her chin and bent to kiss her deeply, pleased with the lascivious sigh she gave.

“If you don’t stop we’re never going to make it to the banquet.” She murmured, as she ran her hand down his collar, brushing the bare skin of his chest.

“I’ll have to tease you to twice as much later to make you pay.” He whispered, mouth close to her ear, his blood heating with desire at how her breath caught and how she shivered.

She gave him a hungry glance as he forced himself to draw back, and focused on smoothing her hair and clothes into place. “That had better be a promise.” She said, heat in her lingering gaze.

“A promise, a threat, whichever you find the most distracting.” He shot back with a wink. “I’m afraid we have to part, but do me a favor and tell that page that I’d like to offer him a position.” He added, as they both rose.

“Is that a scheme I hear in your alluring voice?” She asked playfully, backing away from him, but holding on to his hand with her fingertips.

“Why, I can’t believe that you’d accuse me of such a thing!” He answered, feeling the heat rise in his face at her compliment. He strolled toward his manor, turning to wave at her one last time, and put the finishing touches on his plan as he changed into his formal clothes.

He had spoken to Nobunaga just before the banquet formally commenced, and took his place beside the lord whose alliance they were celebrating, pouring him a cup.

“That page of yours seems an unfortunate young man,” he said casually, “he looks rather out of place, and at such an important event.”

The lord scowled and tossed back his drink moodily. “He’s worthless I tell you, an absolutely hopeless idiot, but he’s my wife’s cousin’s son, and I’m stuck with him.”

Mitsuhide filled his cup again and leaned in conspiratorially. “You could leave him in my service.” He said, and offered the man a knowing smile.

“Now there’s an idea.” The lord answered with a tipsy chuckle. “He’d get he deserves, then, the little bastard.”

“But I have no one at all to offer as a replacement. How terribly unfortunate.” Mitsuhide said with exaggerated disappointment.

“You shouldn’t offer favors that you can’t deliver upon, Mitsuhide, but I take responsibility for your caprice, as always.” Nobunaga interjected with lordly disdain from the dais. “As a mark of my favor, I’ll send one of my own pages with you. I have no doubt that a man as beneficent and honorable as you will appreciate his talents.” He finished, leaving no doubt that any abuse would be taken as a direct insult.

“I– I-” the lord stammered, apparently only just realizing that he had been all but directly ordered to take a spy into his service, squirming uncomfortably under the twin smiles of Nobunaga and Mitsuhide. “Thank you, my lord.” He sputtered out at last.

“My lord is eternally wise and generous.” Mitsuhide said, showing the daggers in his smile.

She had been pouring for Hideyoshi, eavesdropping on the conversation, and she looked up to offer him a dazzlingly bright smile that seemed to set the entire world right.

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #cybird mitsuhide #you-mass-effect-my-dragon-age #thefoxesfic #ask fic #akechi mitsuhide #sfw

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bri-borg · 5 years

Text

stars of lovingness in her hair

Part Three

A/N: Heyyy chapter three is finally here! I am so sorry this took way too long. I’ve just started a job and school and I had a bad case of writer’s block these past weeks. I hope you all like this one, she’s a bit melodramatic. But then again it’s a slowburn, mutual pining friends to lovers asdfghjkl

Also please leave comments and reblog if you enjoy it! Also the stereo mentioned in this chapter is actually real! It’s Prof. H. Draper’s stereo of what I think is the full moon from the 1840s.

One line (if you squint) directly ripped from BohRap because I am unoriginal. As per usual it was edited by me, a tired person. I am sorry about the potentially many errors.

read part one here read part two here

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, some suggestive dialogue, mentions of anxiety, general repression of feelings and self-doubt

Summary: the more time you and Brian spend together as friends, the more you fear that you might want to be something more. As the both of you come to terms with how you feel about one another, a discovery leads you feeling further from him than you felt before

Winter, 1969

You sat down on the floor of Brian’s flat, legs crossed as you tried forcing yourself to read over another set of equations. Brian had invited you over to study, excited to have the new flat to himself while his roommates were out getting moth and flea riddled artefacts. It was smaller and cramped than the last flat—especially considering the fact that Brian was now living with two other men.

You’d gone over to Brian’s place around four in the afternoon, and although you felt as if it had only been a little over than an hour, the bright light of the moon seemed to prove otherwise. He’d finished all of his exams—no doubt getting perfect marks in all of them. He was kind enough to invite you over, stay with you if you’d had any questions, which you felt guilty over considering he could have been enjoying his time off. But he seemed to be enjoying himself, trying to unpack, and getting distracted every now and then by a pair of trousers on the floor, or instead finding his copy of The Hollies’ Would You Believe, which at the moment was now spinning its way happily on the record player.

Normally the music would distract you, but you weren’t actually getting much studying done. Aside from the fact that your mind was thoroughly spent, you couldn’t help but focus on Brian instead, watching as he tinkered with the contraption he’d rigged to his polaroid camera in an attempt to make stereo photographs. Noticing how animated his hands were when he explained something to you. How his sharp canines poked out from beneath his pink lips when he smiled whenever you got something right. How his warm hazel eyes lit up when he looked at you. How every now and then he’d reach over and intertwine his delicate fingers with yours, holding your hand from across the coffee table whenever you’d try your head in your books from frustration. I wouldn’t mind if he held my hand like that more often, you thought on more than one occasion before berating yourself silently, telling yourself you were here to study.

So here you were with one more exam left, trying not to lose your head over the sight of another number—or Brian.

“Y/N?” You heard Brian ask, his tone one of genuine concern. You flit your eyes off the pages of your text book and look at him, raising your eyebrows in question.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough for today? You should at least get some rest, I mean. It’s a bit late.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, glancing over to your watch. Shit. You’d overstayed. “I’m sorry, Brian. I can get out of your hair if you—“

“Oh no! No! That’s not what I meant,” Brian interrupts, holding his hands out to keep you from standing up. “Please, stay as long as you’d like, Y/N. It’s just, I’m worried you might be over-exerting yourself, you know? Overdoing the studying?”

You shake your head, at him. “That’s very kind, Brian, but I need the extra studying—I’m not like you, you know?”

“Oh, stop it, I’ve seen you read books that make my brain hurt and make me question reality. You’re one of the most clever people I’ve ever known. And you can do it—I’ve seen you. You’ve just got to trust yourself now.” He bites his lip, eyes looking up before he speaks again.”Vous avez besoin de confidence.” Brian reaches over to hold your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze as he reassures you.

“Thank you,” you say, unable to hold back the smile forming on your face. “And it’s ‘Tu as besoin de confidence’—no need for such formalities, Bri, we’re friends.” You say and he rolls his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. I’d just about die if I read another word—and Kant makes everyone’s brain hurt. You’re not special.” You smirk.

Brian just smiles before he closes your textbook, moving himself so his back is pressed against the couch. He pats the spot beside him, urging you to sit next to him.

“This coming from the man who’d much rather study than sleep,” you say as you shuffle beside Brian, who’s folded his arms over his long legs as he tucks his chin over his knee.

“Well, it’s from personal experience then.” He tells you, as he leans over close to you. You feel the warmth of his body press against yours for a brief moment as he does.

“You’re right.” You say getting up and sinking back to your seat beside him, your back against the couch, tucking your legs into yourself to copy Brian. “Well, I couldn’t have done it without your help—so thank you,” you say to him, leaning your head against his shoulders, telling yourself that you’ve always been one of those people who was overly affectionate with their friends. For a moment or two everything is silent except for Brian’s soft breaths beside you.

“Are you still thinking about it?” He asks, moving his head off of yours so he’s looking down at you.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mutter quietly.

“Don’t be. I can distract you if you want?” Brian says, and you hope he doesn’t notice how there’s a pause before you nod, and he practically leaps out of his seat to fetch his camera. He tells you to stay still and you do, though you aren’t able to keep yourself from being startled as he snaps two photographs of you in quick succession, a big smile on his face the entire time he does.

“What was that?” You giggle, in mild confusion.

“Hang on a moment—it’ll be worth it, promise,” he says as the two of you wait for the photographs to develop.

As the two of you wait there patiently, Brian pulls out a small device with two lenses attached at the end from his bag. “This,” he says, holding it up, “is used to view stereoscopic photographs—“

“Did you get that out of a Weetabix?” You ask, trying to hold back your laughter.

“…Yes.” Brian says chewing his lip, and shifting slightly in his seat.

“It’s from a cereal box!” You cackle.

“But I’ve made some alterations to it! I’ve upgraded it! Aha! Now, here, have a look,” he says, laughing along with you. Brian takes the photographs of you, your eyes wide open in confusion in both of them, setting them beside one another on the coffee table. He gives you the device, telling you to focus on the photographs, smiling as you lean in and adjust yourself to view the pictures.

“Now the photographs I took—they’re not quite the same,” he explains “so what you’ll get is the effect of the photograph being three-dimensional. Like you’re there in that moment.”

“I do! I see it! Blimey, that’s cool. Wish you’d taken a better photo of me though—I look like a deer caught in headlights!”

“You can keep it if you’d like.”

“Oh, what use am I gonna do with a picture of myself? Can you teach me, then? I’d much rather have you instead—your picture I mean!” You say, feeling a heat creep up your neck as you realize what you’d just said. Fortunately Brian is too overjoyed to notice your slip-up, ecstatic that one of his best friends is showing interest in his passions.

It takes you a couple of tries, and you apologizing to Brian for wasting his film, even though he reassures you that, ‘it will all be worth it!’ Eventually with much redirection, trial and error, you take the photos that produce the effect, which practically makes Brian giddy with enthusiasm. When you view it, you can see Brian looking up at you, a small smile on his face—a moment that you were thankful you’d be able to revisit.

“You did it! You got it faster than I did—took me ages figuring that out. My mum got cross with me for using up the film. It’s really good, Y/N.”

You stand up and do an overly dramatic curtsy as Brian claps, that wide grin still on his face. “You are far too kind,” you say rather grandly, taking Brian’s hand as you sit back down next to him.

“I can keep these, yeah?” You ask, gesturing to the trial photographs, which is just Brian staring awkwardly into the camera or blinking, and ruining your shot. He nods as you take them in your hands, giggling at how silly he looked in some of them.

“As long as I keep the stereo of you—took the definition of doe-eyed to a whole new level, didn’t you?” Brian smirks widening his eyes to mimick you. “Any relation to Bambi?” He adds quickly.

You look at him, pretending to be thoroughly unamused, your lips a hard line, and one brow raised as Brian attempts to hold back fits of laughter, unable to look at you as he does. But you can’t help it, how you wish this moment would never end, and the dread that comes with the thought that it inevitably has to.

“Oh, what am I gonna do without you next year?” You muse fondly all of a sudden. There’s a hint of bittersweet in your voice at the thought of him leaving, which Brian definitely notices.

Suddenly he’s gone quiet. Brian shifts for a moment so he’s facing you before speaking again. “Oh, erm. Well, actually I’ve been meaning to tell you—I got accepted into the P.h.D. program. So m’afraid you’re stuck with me—for a while.“

You practically lunge forward, flinging your arms around him and muttering all your congratulations while still wrapped tightly around him. “Oh I knew you’d get it! Brian I’m so proud of you!” You mumble, your voice muffled as you bury your face in his shoulder. You were happy for him—truly. He was intelligent and passionate about his studies, and it made you happy seeing him succeed. Yes, you were happy, but somewhere deep in the back of your mind you were happy knowing you’d still have Brian close by for the next few years.

When you let go of him, neither of you pull away.

Suddenly you feel just how close the two of you are, that you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your face, feel his heart beating as his chest pressed up against yours.

“My dad really wanted me to,” Brian says softly, avoidant of your gaze as the two of you were this close to one another. “I could never say no to him.”

You nod as you listen intently, neither of you refusing to pull away. He finally looks up at you, studying your gaze as they drift to observe the way his eyelashes kiss his cheekbones when his lids sit low. The proximity made you flush, and you prayed that Brian wouldn’t notice your touch lingering, the way your arms were still around him.

“You’re wearing your hair all curly—I just noticed.” You observe, all of a sudden, your eyes drifting to a defined curl that rested on his forehead. You wonder how it had escaped you, all these hours you’d spent with him and you didn’t even notice such a small little detail until now.

“Oh, erm. Yeah, I thought I’d give it a go—all that straightening can’t be good for it, I s’pose” Brian tries to let out a small laugh, his face flushed with pink as he manages to get his words out. He doesn’t pull away, or let you go, though. For a second or two he’s unconscious of his hands falling to rest upon your hips, before he quickly pulls them off of you his cheeks now kissed with a deep pink.

“I really like it.” You say, your eyes fixed on his as one finger comes up to delicately place a stray curl back into place. You think for a moment that you hear Brian’s breath hitch as you touch him, but you brush it off as your own subconscious. He was so close, you thought. His lips only a few millimetres away from yours. But it wouldn’t be right.

“Sorry,” you say, pulling away quickly. “I got too excited—I’m really glad you got in, Bri. I’m proud of you,” you say, your smile a vague attempt to hide away your anxieties, hoping Brian doesn’t notice how uneven your breath is, how the heat’s crept up your neck.

Brian blushes a bit, his head shrinking into the neck of his sweater, muttering a small ‘thank-you’ and ‘it’s alright’ when you take your place and sit back down next to him, close enough so that your sides are touching. There’s something different in the way the silence fills the room now, different to how it was mere moments ago. But it doesn’t take long before you lean your head against his shoulder again, prompting him to lean his head against yours once more. Yet you can’t help how your thoughts drift from you, wondering if there was anything more to you and Brian.

————————————————————

Friday, 1970

“We can’t bloody well sell it! It’s my fucking jacket!”

“It’s atrocious, Fred!”

“You don’t know a thing about fashion, darling—“

You felt a bit awkward, overhearing the argument—as a matter of fact the whole reason for your presence there was awkward. Suzie, had decided, she’d drag you along to Kensignton Market to go and ‘keep an eye on’—in her words, “Roger Taylor, the love of her life.” Of course, such a plan might have worked if Roger hadn’t known either of you. The only reason you’d agreed was the hope that you’d finally be able to meet Roger and Brian’s elusive third roommate, who had apparently just recently changed his name, and to maybe get Brian something as a thank-you for enduring you as his student in maths. You’d gotten the results of your statistics exam back and had passed with flying colours. You felt it would be nice to get Brian something especially considering the fact that when he aced his French exams he’d gotten you something too. It was a small plush polar bear—one that you’d mentioned was cute from a few weeks ago when you and Brian had passed by the window of the shop. It was a small gesture, but it made you smile to think he’d remember a small thing you’d said.

“Suzie, I don’t think this is a good idea—what if he sees us?’ You worry, peering over to see Roger arguing with a dark haired man from beneath the gaggle mannequins and hat boxes stacked atop one another.

“That’s exactly the point, Y/N!” Suzie exclaims, grabbing a hold of your shoulders in a manner that’s probably too harsh that your back presses against the hatstand behind you, toppling it over with a loud thud tp the floor and calling attention to the both of you. The noise must have alerted them—there wasn’t any way they didn’t hear.

“Hullo, Y/N, Suzie. How are we doing today ladies?” Called out Roger from their makeshift counter. Suddenly he turns to his friend, yanking a cigarette out of his mouth, muttering a tiny tsk tsk, as he waves a finger almost patronizingly.

“Don’t smoke in here—the coat’s will smell like shit.”

“Everything here smells like shit!”

“Hey Rog,” Suzie says rather wistfully, effectively interrupting the beginnings of another argument as she begins flipping her hair over her shoulder, practically jogging over to where Roger is. You just hold your hand up, waving hello at Roger, making a face that says “I’m really sorry about my roommate.” He seemed to understand, making a face that seemed to say, “no it’s not your fault your roommate can’t take a hint.”

As Roger attempts to entertain Suzie, the other man saunters over to where you are.

“Apologies—me and my associate were just having a bit of a dispute. I’m Freddie, this is Roger—though you already seem to have met.” He holds out an elegant hand, each finger adorned with rings and the tips with black nail varnish. His features are quite sharp and angular with an effortless elegance and a kindness, his hair, dark and messy as it frames his face—so this is the elusive Freddie.

“Freddie—yes! Well, it’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard all about you! I’m Y/N.” You say, taking his hand.

“Y/N?—are you Brian’s Y/N?—Oh, my dear, it’s so nice to finally have a pretty face for that name! All he ever does is talk about you!”

You blush, feeling heat creep up onto your cheeks, no doubt flushing them pink. Brian’s Y/N.

“That’s sweet of him,” you say biting at your lip a bit, noticing how there’s a knowing smirk lingering on the side of Freddie’s face.

“Brian can be very sweet, can’t he? You must tell me about this whole other side of Brian—I rarely get to see it. It’s always ‘don’t burn the flat down, Fred’ or ‘could you not play an entire concerto when I’m reviewing for my astronomy final!’ Why, you must know of Brian’s sweetness better than anyone else.” He says, rather slyly, his voice teasing, as you blush and go quiet. Although he hadn’t said anything particular, there isn’t any doubt of what he’s implying.

“Sorry about the mess and barging in—“ You say, trying to change the subject.

“Oh don’t worry about it. Adds character to this whole ruddy place anyway. And I much appreciated the distraction—“

Crash! A noise came suddenly from towards the counter, followed up by a small “sorry!” From Roger, now sat on the floor, who it seemed had accidentally destroyed the makeshift counter by putting the weight of his legs against it.

“Roger! What did you do?” Snapped Freddie—though he sounded more amused than irritated.

“It’s two fucking planks of wood, Fred! Help me put it back, will you?” Roger shouts, attempting to get up and reassuring Suzie that he’s not dying.

“Right. Well, I am glad to finally meet you, dear. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a busy man. Do make yourselves comfortable while you’re here darlings! I’ll just go and deal with Roger—right, Taylor don’t get your knickers in a twist!”

You look around the shop, noticing a couple of items you’re sure you’d seen back at their flat, haphazardly flung across the sofa while you and Brian attempted to study. It was a small boutique, no bigger than an alley-way. Its walls adorned with oil paintings and sketches—some of them Freddie’s, you’d noted. Canvases were stacked up against the walls, and coatracks full of beautiful clothes which you assumed were, in Brian’s terms, “bloody flea-bitten.” You glance over to look at the counter, shaking your head at the way Freddie and Roger attempted to hammer together planks of wood to form a counter. Suzie, as always, was orbiting Roger, awkwardly trying to get a word in.

A small crate of old photographs and postcards catches your eye. Some of them are dated 1890, 1880—1870—most of them featuring women in their drawers, which would have been quite scandalous for the time, the thought of which makes you laugh a bit. You wonder if there are any vintage stereos in the pile. It would be a nice surprise for Brian, he was quite fond of vintage stereos—the way he mused about the ones he saw at the auctioneers. You look through them, sorting out each photograph carefully, looking for a stereo. Gotcha.

You pick out one of what seems to be the full moon. The paper is yellowed, and fragile, with a few tears on its sides. On its borders are written the date in sprawling cursive font—1870, reprint. The moon is round and full, its craters cast in shadow, its normally silver glow a sepia in the picture. There was just something so quintessentially Brian about the whole photograph that made you smile.

You purchase it from Roger, for a threepence, who seemed unaware of the fact that he was selling you a photograph that you were certain was an antique. Freddie, gives you a knowing little smile as he wraps the photograph in parchment paper, no doubt very much certain that you were going to give it to Brian. He’s kind enough to walk you and Suzie out of the shop, his arm gallantly wrapped around yours as he does, urging you to come over for tea time when he’s around. Freddie gives you a wink as you and Suzie say your goodbye’s. You freeze, and blush a deep pink once again when Freddie calls out after you saying, “say hello to Brian for me!”

——————————————————————

Saturday night, 1970

“Hello?” You answer, after finally wringing out the telephone from your roommate’s overly tight grasp. So Roger had called. You think to yourself, as you look over at Suzie, with a smile on her face and giddy excitement that only ever comes when she hears the voice of her one and only Roger Taylor. You smirk at Suzie, sat on the couch as she gives you a guilty smile before she returns to her book.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Rog. Listen, I was wondering if you could do us a favour. We’ve got a bit of a problem.” He sounded a bit stressed, from the sound of his voice.

“Is everything alright, Roger? Did anything happen?” You inquire, your voice coloured with concern.

“Nothing’s wrong—everything’s perfect—if it weren’t for one damn thing.” He adds the last part almost as an exasperated mutter.

“I can’t tell if this is a prank or you’re going to make me do something I’ll regret“

“It’s not!” Roger almost whines from the other end. “Listen, Bri’s been an absolute numpty and left his bloody guitar at home—we’ve a gig tonight and he’s fucking forgotten all about it. I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to go over to our flat and give it to him before the gig. We kind of need a guitar, y’know. Rock and roll and everything.” Roger says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You can practically hear him take a long, dramatic drag from his cigarette on the other end.

“He’s stressed out, Rog. Give him a break—“

“Yes well, he’s always stressed, Y/N. When isn’t he? Great guy, love him to bits, but the memory of a goldfish, as you know. Give us a hand will you?” He practically pleads. Well. He had a point, you think. On more than one occasion Brian had forgotten the keys to his apartment, which had caused him to sleep over at your place, not wanting to face the wrath of his roommates whose sleep, or other activities, he would have had to interrupt. Of course, you didn’t mind. In fact you quite liked having him around.

“Yes, well I’ve got things to do too, Rog,” You begin, fingers twisting at the thick black coils of the telephone. “Why can’t you just pick it up—“

“I’m a busy man, Y/N, I’ve got things to see, people to do—“

“Christ, Rog—“

“That was a joke! It’s a bad one I know. Anyway I can’t cause I’m at rehearsal right now and Fred can’t cause he’s at his parents’. Pretty please just help us?” Suddenly Roger changes the infection of his voice, making himself sound more higher pitched and nasally as he dons a ‘baby voice’—a trick he knew from experience would either be irresistible to women (though, in honesty just probably Suzie) or annoying enough for you to cave in. “C’mon, Y/N, do it for pwetty bitty Bwian—“

“Ok! I’ll do it, just please never talk to me like that again.” You say, shaking your head, but unable to hold back a laugh at Roger’s antics. “Spare key still under the mat, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank’s Y/N—you really saved our necks. Especially Brian’s neck—from my foot that is!” Roger taunts at the end of the line before hanging up. You shake your head, and grab your bag and keys, heading out for the door.

———

It takes you a few minutes, wading through still unopened boxes, records, and flare trousers of all different sizes littered across the floor of their flat. You almost trip over a jacket, the heel of your shoe catching on the loud-patterned bell sleeves. You aren’t quite sure if it belongs to Brian or Freddie or Roger—as you’ve certainly seen all of them wear it on at least one occasion.

You finally make your way to Brian’s room, smiling a bit at how quintessentially Brian everything was. His small bookshelf was barely able to hold up as some books were laid on their side, trying to fit into any space available. His guitar rests against his wall almost precariously, threatening to fall flat on its front at the smallest touch. Your face lights up when you see the stereo of the moon you’d given him displayed proudly on his nightstand. When you had given it to him he had been speechless, his only response was to hold you in his arms and practically lift you up the ground as he murmured a thank-you into your shoulder. He’d apologized for surprising you—but you didn’t mind in the slightest. You’re left there blushing when your gaze drifts to find that the stereo photos that he took of you looking like a deer caught in headlights from last winter is displayed proudly along with it, taped together as they rested on the frame of the first photograph.

You pad around his room, looking under his bed, and behind the door, looking for his guitar case. You find it shoved atop one of his cupboards, at a height that only Brian could ever reach. You huff, waving your hands, trying to grab a hold of it. Going on your tiptoes you try and grasp at the strap of the case, only to have it fall down rather disgracefully at your feet. Just as you’re about to pick up the case, a notebook falls from the cupboard hitting over your head as it falls open to the ground, it’s pages pressed against the floor.

You pick it up, not wanting to make a mess when you see that it reads “French 100” on the side. Intrigued and hoping to reminisce on your time spent studying together for the class, you open it, hoping that you’ll find conjugation rules and notes about Baudelaire and pronunciation. Instead all you find is a song.

You catch a glimpse of about half the page before you snap it shut. You knew you probably shouldn’t intrude, that you probably shouldn’t pry and overstep Brian’s boundaries, but your mind lingers on what you’d seen. Your eyes widen, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat.

It was about a girl. The handwriting was unmistakably Brian’s, and the way he described her, talked of her, thought of her only meant that he was in love with her.

Whoever she was.

You hurriedly pick the notebook up, shoving it back into his closet, not wanting to think about just who this girl might be. You try not to think about the words sprawled in black ink as they tripped over the margins of the book, every word a silent prayer that she’d notice him too, immortalizing her smiling dark eyes in a song that he no doubt sang only for her. For a moment you think if there’s a chance Brian’s written the song about you, but you shake the thought away. She was ethereal, beautiful and enchanting. By the looks of it Brian practically worshipped the very ground she walked on. You two were just friends.

Your thoughts are interrupted when notice the quickened pace of your heart’s beating, a dry lump that seemed to be stuck in your throat, and the unmistakable feeling of jealousy at the pit of your stomach.

You try to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be upset. Why would you be? It’s not like there was anything between you and Brian. Whoever this girl was, you thought, was lucky. Your friend was in love, and you were happy for him. You and Brian were meant to be friends, nothing more.

So you carefully place his guitar in the case and leave, everything just the same as it was before.

——

You barely even make your way to the front of the stage, choosing instead to wave over to Roger to catch his attention so he jogs over to where you are by the door.

“Here,” you say, handing over Brian’s guitar, careful so that the strap of the case doesn’t catch onto your neck. Roger, as annoyed with Brian as he probably was in that moment, is a careful, if not more as he takes it from you—knowing Brian he’d probably faint at the sight of one dust particle settling on his Red Special.

“Thanks so much, Y/N, you’re the best—do you want to come to the back? Bri’s there probably studying—bloody nerd,” Roger snorts, but you shake your head, telling him that you really had to head out, and that you probably won’t even be able to make it to the show anyway. Roger looks puzzled, you and Brian had never not made time for each other.

“Oh. Well, I could call him over just so he doesn’t go looking for you later—“

“It’s fine, Rog. I’ve just got to head out.” You say rather bluntly.

“Is anything the matter, Y/N?” He asks, his brows furrowed in concern as you shrug it off, telling him you just feel a bit ill. Roger doesn’t seem convinced but he doesn’t press you. Instead he just maintains a polite demeanour as you bid him and the rest of the band a “good luck”.

As you exit the pub, the golden light of the afternoon sun seems almost too bright. A cold breeze blows by past you, strands of your hair blowing into your face as it does. You had tried not thinking about it but the more you tried the more you found she was all you could think about. And you didn’t even know who this girl was. You couldn’t help but let your mind linger on the thought of how much Brian wanted her. You take in a deep breath, looking out to lift your head towards the crowded street.

You loved Brian. You were certain now more than ever. And it was too late.

You felt a bit childish, creating this distance between yourself and Brian, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him–not right not anyway.

—————————————————

that night, 1970, Brian’s perspective

Take your chances. Brian told himself. Roger’s right. No. No. No—

Maybe i should.

He’d been thinking of telling Y/N since winter. About how he felt—about her, about them. He always seemed to find the right words when he was with her. The trouble was that he could never say them to her—could never bring himself to out of fear that she wouldn’t feel the same, or that he’d ruined their friendship. Maybe it was selfish, but then again, maybe he wasn’t wrong. Instead his confessions were written across lined pages of his notebooks, page after page professing what he feared might have been love for this girl who was his friend.

That one night in winter, Brian recalled how close her lips were, how her touches lingered, and how he felt the warmth of her breath against his skin. His touches had lingered against her skin but she didn’t pull away. But maybe that was just wishful thinking. He’d never felt that close to her. All he ever seemed to do was replay that night, think of the sond of her laughter as the two of them snapped photograph after photograph.

Although he didn’t know for certain he’d hoped from the way she’s looked at him that night that she might have felt the same way. He wanted to take her by the hand, take her some place they could be alone so he could finally tell her. In his mind when he thought of the day he somehow plucked up the courage to tell her, he’d hoped that she’d tell him she felt the same and that when his touches did linger she wouldn’t move away. All he ever did was hope for that moment, but the moment never came.

And so here he was now, his back against the cool concrete of the wall, head hanging low as he waited with his bandmates to play their set for the night, trying to take his mind off of her for once.

———

The gig had gone by with what seemed like a matter of minutes. One second they were playing together in a dimply lit pub, singing to a crowd that seemed to be as loud as they were. Then the next, they were backstage, packing up their instruments hastily before the owner would eventually come in and usher them out for staying past their time-slot. Brian had stolen glances at the crowd, his gaze shifting through the audience, trying to find Y/N.

Brian weaves his way around Roger who’s preoccupied with taking down his drum kit, excusing himself as he heads back into the pub to look for Y/N. Once inside his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights as he’s faced with a group of students telling him he played well that night. Brian exchanges his thank-yous with them, nodding as he tries to look for Y/N, weaving past through them, his neck held high as he tries looking for her.

Brian worries, thinking if anything might have happened between when Roger last saw her just a few hours ago and now. Brian was just about to make his way to the payphone when he hears Tim call his name.

“Brian? D’you mind coming to the back again? I’m calling band meeting.” Tim says. He’s stood by the doorway, his bass slung across his shoulders as he avoided leaning on the poster plastered walls of the building. He held up his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he waited for Brian.

Brian nods after a moment’s hesitation, before following Tim, who leads him out back to the lot where the van’s already loaded with all of their equipment. Everything with the exception of Tim’s bass guitar. Roger sits in the open back of the van, his feet tapping against the back of the wheels.

“Did you see Y/N tonight Rog? She said she’d come.” Brian asks worriedly as he sits down next to him.

Roger shakes his head no, a knowing look on his face as shifts away from his friend’s gaze suddenly. “She seemed a bit out of it, mate,” he adds, trying to ease his friend’s worries. “I don’t think she was feeling well—might be sick.”

Brian nods his head, although something tells him that even Roger himself wasn’t quite sure if he was telling the entire truth.

Roger leans back,trying to change the conversation as he props his feet up onto the bumper. “Right then, Timothy, why have you called us out here?”

After a few moment’s hesitation, Tim tells the both of them that he’s thinking of leaving. He tells them that he’s not sure if Smile’s going anywhere. Brian stands up and tries talking him out of it, telling him they’ve just hit a slump in their careers, though he knows he’s right. Just when Roger joins in trying to talk him out of it, Tim tells the both of them that he’d gotten an offer to play with a different band. Brian isn’t able to speak, and neither can Roger.

“Let’s face it, guys. Smile’s going nowhere—I have to take my chances. I have to.” Tim says, his voice strained by some guilt, but still unwavering as he stands his ground. “I’m sorry,” is the last thing he says before he walks away.

Despite their protests both Brian and Roger know that they can’t control their friend’s decisions. For a few minutes the two of them sit there, stunned in the parking lot, breathing in the cool air. After a few minutes the two of them begin waxing on about hypotheticals—who might work, who wouldn’t work, but the two of them eventually exhaust the conversation. The both of them, too tired to think or talk about it right now, much more willing to put it off as a problem for the morning.

Brian and Roger spend the car ride in silence, aware that they’re a step further from where the both of them wanted to be in their lives. Not much words are exchanged as the both of them make their way to their flat and into their respective rooms.

Brian sits on the edge of his bed, feeling a weight pulling at his chest. For a while he listens to the quiet, just sitting there in his room as a sliver of light from outside illuminates the photographs on his nightstand. He notices the stereo that Y/N gave her and the one of her. He smiles but quickly remembers tonight.

Something about the way Roger had avoided his gaze tells him that something was wrong with Y/N. Of course she didn’t owe him an explanation, but he couldn’t let his anxieties cloud his thoughts—thoughts that told him maybe he’d been too overbearing—too needy, maybe he let his touches lingered for too long, suffocated her by needing to be around her too much and pushed her away. He knew those kind of thoughts had little truth in them, but part of him wanted to believe them.

He felt that familiar distance between the two of them, only now it seemed as thought they were a whole universe apart, lightyears away from each other.

Brian furrows his brows and hunches over to rest his head in his hands. He lets out a small groan of frustration, trying not to think about how he couldn’t seem to do anything in his life right.

He wasn’t even good at what he thought he was good at—he feared the rest of the world might move on while he stayed still. As frustrated as Brian was with Tim he admired him for taking his chances. I could never be that brave, he thought. He was always too busy with his studies to focus on music, too scared to stand up against his dad, too scared of ruining things with Y/N to tell her how he felt.

He was going nowhere. Not with music, not with his studies, not with Y/N. What was perhaps the worst thing was that he still couldn’t admit to himself that he was in love with her. He was too scared.

Brian would sing songs about her every day if he could. He could find every other word to describe how he felt about Y/N with the exception of one.

#Brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x female reader #queen fanfiction #queen x reader #brian may x oc #y/n

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

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Kira (7)

CHAPTER 7: A Part of Me

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: fluff. Father-figure. Bossy wolf.

Warnings: nothing, really. A liiiiiiiittle blood.

Word count: Wasn’t able to eat lunch today because I had to go give my driving test today. Come back and my colleagues hand me the worst share of work. It’s not like I was skipping on work to have fun! I was out in the bloody heat getting my freaking papers authorised! *inhuman screaming*

And then people have the audacity to say it’s easy to have a healthy mind. Eat, sleep, breathe, repeat. *snarls*

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

There is a bittersweet scent of citrus floating in the air with a welcoming silence that you cannot remember of hearing since far too long. A string of sweet chirps somewhere does not allow you to open eyes. Instead, they play the right nerves inside your head to send you deeper into slumber.

And you would have, had it not been for the unknown source of heated touch on your back that wakes you up instantly to find Fenrir lounging lazily beside you on your bed.

"Really?" You look at him, the morning in your voice and eyes heavy, "ever heard of asking permission before getting into bed with someone else?"

He plainly huffs and slides his legs on your side of the bed.

"Wonder where you get that from," you softly announce into the thin air before walking out of the room and into the garden.

It has nearly been a week but you can still not get over the fact that you can feel such stunning, mellifluous silence of nature right next to the worst, most inconsiderate of places. The green expanse covered in the dense trees with birds and animals you'd never had the pleasure of seeing before in a place like this somehow fills you with a bit of irrevocable joy every day.

How was I able to survive in that heartless pit?

Without answering your own question you go back inside and turn towards the hallway leading to the kitchen to get yourself something cool and liquid to start your day with right after you've brushed your teeth.

And like always, you forget which path to go down in order to reach your destination, wandering down the corridor you think might lead you towards some honey and lemon at least.

The doors- same everywhere, frosted glass framed in oak- do not make things any simpler. Frustrated, you walk the one you are the closest to; that seems like the same direction that the kitchen door was facing last night when you went to ask Ygritte for the fifth time about the desserts and wine.

Your fingers move forward to turn it and realise a second late that it's not shut all the way, already turning halfway to reveal another person inside.

You recognize him from his hair but it is your first time seeing those black strands moved up into a bun. At that moment you are aware of the fact that you've never been a hairstyle enthusiast but watching part of those dark tresses bundled up sends an incredulous wave inside you.

And that's not all.

The strands left behind over the neck, kissing the shoulder, and covered in sweat as the muscles underneath them move when the arms- that you thought were definitely frail under all those expensive suits- take the weight of the entire body up.

Now as much as the biceps should have been distracting for your suddenly aware and observant eyes, they seem to dilute the lustre in front of what you see at the naked back exposed to you.

Lines running about, discoloured, uneven skin like dark valleys that the sweat beads take refuge in, running down their length.

What are they? Remnants of old cuts or burns . Or maybe something worse.

You don't know when that uncomfortable feeling returns in your chest because you're too engrossed in those scars. You don't even realise when Loki sees your reflection in the glass wall in front of him and turns around to question your presence. And just to add to it all, you do not even remember when your glasses fog up because the moment you're bringing yourself back to earth, Loki is already two steps close to you, his green- and somehow oceanic- eyes boring into you.

"Did you have a business here?"

He doesn't even try to hide the annoyance in his tone, neither does he acknowledges the flinch of your body at his voice like you're waking up from a trance.

"Nothing," you clear the hoarseness in your throat before whispering, "sorry. I uh...I was looking for the kitchen."

Not wasting a second standing there, you rush out to breathe and unintentionally run every possible scenario inside your head.

What the hell kind of fifty shades of fucked up is going on?

Whatever it is, you tell yourself you want no part of it, already preparing the rest of the day inside your head as you retrace your steps and get ready to give your boss the night he wants.

"This is atrocious."

"That she unintentionally walked in on you working out?"

"She saw my scars, John. This is not something I am open to sharing with people."

Loki paces inside the one place that relaxes him- his observatory and library.

"I don't even like sharing it with you but this woman is making things harder for me," his tone is one smooth line but John can sense the fumes rising up in the air around him.

"Well, if I were there I would have told you to sit down and breathe but... clearly that's not happening."

Loki stops and turns to look at the screen with John's upper half giving him a casual shrug.

"All right. Okay," the psychologist clears his throat and sits up, "let's figure this out, shall we? Why does it matter that she saw what she saw? Do you think she will talk about your scars to someone?"

An uncomfortable twist of jaw later Loki crosses his arms. "She better not."

Loki takes a short lungful, a fine line crossing between his brows. "Though she doesn't seem like she would."

"And why is that?"

Loki turns to the screens. His hands go inside his pant pockets on their own as he sighs.

"I have a particular set of... features I look for in the people who work for me."

"...You mean to be adaptive and loyal to you?"

Loki can feel the smirk sitting right at the edge of his lips when he hears John's words.

A tsk escapes his lips before he takes a step towards the screen to slide back a winged chair, rest it right in the middle of John's field of vision, and settle down in it.

"Let's just cut to the chase then, shall we? You, John, are a man of intellect. I can presume you think you have me figured out."

It is John's turn to smile. But his only reflects kindness.

Closing his notebook, he sets it down on the table by his pen before easing back into his chair, resting his hands on his legs.

"I am here to hear you out. To help you work through whatever it is that troubles you. But you have to understand that once we start looking at the scars we might find wounds under them that are old and still haven't healed from the inside. So, the real question, Loki, is how much of yourself have you dared to shine a light upon?"

"It's okay, Kira. Why don't you go? I will take care of this."

No matter how many times Robert says it, he cannot seem to get you away from the group at work, installing the final string of backyard lights.

"Yeah, just a minute," you mention as seriously as you did the other seven times.

But this time he runs out of excuses to get you inside, placing his hands on your arms before making you walk towards your side of the house.

"The guests are about to arrive in twenty minutes," he pleads softly.

"Good! Because I am saturated," you announce, letting him take most of your weight as he takes you inside. "And I think I look fine."

"Okay but please have something before the guests arrive. It's rude for the hostess to fall ill in the middle of festivities."

It's refreshing to hear when Robert doesn't force you to 'get ready' but it's a twist-of-your-stomach weird to hear him call you the hostess.

"No, I'm not-" and just as Loki's face flashes in your mind, you cannot help but consider the weight of his words- "...yeah. I guess I am the...hostess."

Fenrir does not like the idea of strangers in his house but he lets it pass once Ygritte takes him away to a place in the estate unknown to you with the bribe of his favourite delicacies.

Washing your face, you put some moisturiser on. A bit of mascara and you are good to go, hoping no one would notice the dark circles beneath your eyes, thanks to your glasses.

The first step into the hall opened to the guests and you are already feeling out of place in your maroon blouse and black Palazzo trousers.

Faces you had only seen in magazines and news are standing there with the elegance of a black swan, dressed in fabrics and cuts that you would never dare to dream of.

Most of them are admiring the artwork you took out from Loki's available inventory and diligently skimmed through their history before putting the best works up. By now you were modestly acquainted with the technique, the source of paints and the artists' inspiration behind those works; all but three of them.

"Great! I'm not the only one who has no idea why they're here."

A cheery feminine voice calls out from behind you and you have to turn at the scarcest sight of something jovial in this tight atmosphere building up around you.

The broad-rimmed glasses, dark hair and the stretched smile reflecting the perfect white lights up some part of your heart.

"Darcy Lewis?" The tide of excitement in your voice spills over the brim and you have the catch yourself and tell your lungs to breathe.

"Yup. That's me. Wait. Do I know you? Have we already met?"

You shake your head but don't bother calming down your already heating nerves. "No, we haven't. I'm Kira. I read about Jane Foster's work and your contribution to it. It's amazing. You're amazing."

Too much?

You are trying to simmer down your brain before deciding to fry it completely for the embarrassment it just put you through right when you hear Darcy snort.

"Contribute? If by that you mean moved the equipment around, slept through a desert storm, threw curse words at those lazy government guys when they took away Jane's work, and all of that when I wasn't even getting paid, then yes. I am that Darcy Lewis. And heck yeah I'm amazing," she winks and finger guns at you. "And Kira, you...how do you know Loki?"

Here comes the inevitable.

"I'm his assistant."

Darcy blinks, takes a step back, scans you from head to toe before stepping closer than normal.

"Blink twice if you need my help to escape," she whispers, making you chuckle.

"No, I'm-I'm good. I knew what I was getting into."

This time her glare is patient and observant before she passes off a shrug.

"Suddenly you seem really hot to me."

You manage to give her a slight nod after the surprise has diluted a bit. “Thank you? And if I may ask, if you're so sceptical about Loki then why come here at all?"

Now, this seems to bring back that signature smile on her face.

"Because it's Loki," she simply shrugs. "He might be an ex-madman of sorts but everyone knows he has an air about him. Me, personally am-"

"Here for the food?"

Loki's voice comes quite close behind you, freezing you right where you stand.

"You better stop sending me those emails before I act on my urge to parcel you a dead crow."

You and- unbeknownst to you- Loki furrow your brows and tilt your head in mild surprise.

Darcy's eyes go wide in surprise. "Jane. That was Jane. That's what she said when I was leaving for here."

Saying that she slowly moves away and blends into the crowd of guests to do what was here to do.

Please don't say anything. Please don't say anything. Please don't s-

"We need to talk."

Your heart wants to jump out if your chest and fall flat on the floor. Instead, you just turn and face him with a forced smile on your face.

"You have guests here-"

"Who are more interested in every distraction you've come up with."

The green in his eyes seems shallow; superficial.

"And I'm in charge of that everything tonight," you declare softly before walking away to look for an excuse to busy yourself in.

Robert's men have eyes everywhere while Ygritte has help to cater to the needs of the guests and neither of them want you to worry your mind with anything for the rest of the night no matter how hard you try.

Giving up, you try to find your way back to your side of the house to get five minutes to compose yourself and come back with some preparedness to interact with all the people that were your responsibility for the night.

The silence on the east side is welcoming as you walk through the connecting corridor, smiling at the fish in their now lit-up pond and observing the flowers sleeping all around them.

Your space, at last.

"Nice quarters you've got here."

The little jumpscare you feel at the voice is far less concerning than the clench in your gut when you turn around to see the person who has followed you here.

"VK," you address the man dressed in blue that shines under the dim lights of your living room nursing a glass of whiskey in his hand, "can I help you?"

He simply nods.

"Yes, please. I am curious. Very curious as to how-" he takes a step closer to you, making to retreat- "did a newbie like you-" he moves closer further, forcing you to step away till you hit the glass- "end up soooo close to a man like Loki?"

“I mean PA, yeah sure, whatever. But it hasn’t even been six months and you have created quite a stir since your arrival, haven’t you?”

You want to slide to the side away from him, but his arm blocks your way right as you think of doing it. With him dipping his head closer to you, you can smell the alcohol in his breath, turning off all the alarms at once.

You want to speak, tell him to get away from you but you stay frozen, your mind going white, the blaring sirens inside your head drowning every other sense of judgement.

"How did you-" his face is closer to your head now, his nostrils taking in the smell of mint from your recently shampooed hair- "manage to get his people to turn to you?"

"VK, please-" your voice withers away as he puts his glass down on the table with a loud bang.

"I see the way Robert looks at you. Even that maid. They look at you as if you're some...some delicate work of art they should protect. Is this what you really want, Kira?"

The second his fingers try to move the loose strand of your hair away from your face, your body twitches away, trying to melt into the glass behind you. "Because I'm sure I can show the world-"

"That's enough."

The voice is a long lost familiar that surprises you inside out before it turns into a tide of relief as VK backs away from you to turn and see the source of interruption.

Anthony Edward Stark stands right across you, killing VK with just his looks.

"Now, get out of here before I kick your ass to the moon and trust me when I say this your boss would not mind even for a second," Stark declares ever so blankly, throwing daggers at the excuse state of a man standing in front of him. "In fact, this would be the first time we would agree on something."

It's not a surprise to watch VK dumbfounded at the sight of the most influential man on earth and scurry off into the direction where he came from, trying to make sense all the way of what just happened.

"Thank you, Mr Stark," you finally breathe, blinking away the tears as fast as you can.

Tony still has his eyes out for the figure walking away from the corridor and does not turn back to you till he is sure that man won't be coming back here.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

His words- along with this parental anger in his eyes- catch you off guard.

"...I'm sorry?"

"Loki's assistant? Really, Kira? You were making models of renewable energy sources for the UN and writing tear-jerking poetry the last I saw you. And now you're-" he vaguely gestures at everything around him.

You try to settle down your accelerated heartbeat to come to terms with what you just heard.

"You...you remember me?"

The flinch over his face seems like you just threw an insult at him.

"Of course, I remember you. You were twelve. It's not easy to forget a peaceful kid who took care of the entire battalion that had come to visit Stark Industries. I should've given you a medal for that."

He goes on to tell you what he remembers from your visit as he pours you a glass of water and sits down on the sofa beside you.

"I thought I was invisible," you mock a laugh for your own amusement.

"Well, you suck at being invisible to the people who have their eyes out for people like you," he states matter-of-factly. "But seriously though, what are you doing working for Loki."

You smile and shrug.

"I'm...working for the one company that seems to care about the people here, Mr Stark."

"Oh, sweethe-"

"Yes, I know all about the past. I just..."

You do not have words.

Tony can see the light glisten in the corner of your eyes.

"Kira," his voice is softer than you remember, "is everything okay?"

You bite your lip to stop the upsurge of emotions swirling inside you on the thought of the man you looked up to nearly all your childhood sitting down next to you to ask you if everything was okay.

Tony is way too familiar with the look in your eyes and it doesn't take him more than two seconds to decide.

"Tell you what," he looks at his watch before turning to look at the entrance to your side, "there's still an hour before dinner. How about you spill everything out and then we make a run for everything edible your puny boss has thrown his money at tonight. And we can make fun of the paintings that I do not get. Especially that piece with just black sticks and paints sploshed like blood."

Your furrowed brows de-stress themselves all of a sudden as a light laugh leaves your lungs. "Oh thank God! I thought I was the only one."

It is a relief to be done with the greetings when he knows half the people here have shown up just for the sake of curiosity and the other half did not bother turning up.

"I told you he wouldn't come," Solaris brings Loki a glass of champagne. "T'Challa is quite obstinate when it comes to the people he does not trust."

"Standing on solid ground. I somehow like that better than him showing up here and stealing the show from Stark."

The glasses clink and the champagne is downed immediately.

"Ooh!" She exclaims, "easy there mister. I don't want the host to be running on booze while his guests look for an excuse to entertain themselves. And the world."

Loki rolls his eyes at her. "Just because you don't see me drink doesn't mean I can't hold my liquor, Solaris. I just don't like how it tastes."

Solaris cocks her brow at him and a tender smile grows on her lips. "Wow. You are the second person to say that to me tonight," she whispers, downing her own glass. "So, were you able to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Whatever's the reason you threw this party and collected these people here."

Loki questions her with just his stare.

"Oh do not give me that look, Loki. You know what I was before I started working for you. I know you don't do anything without reason. So out with it."

And just like that, the blankness morphs into a satisfactory smirk.

"I think so, yes."

The band in the garden outside lets the jazz fade away to give the stage to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

"Where's Kira?"

Solaris' smirk is hidden from Loki's view as she takes another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by and turns her features to ones who have not a clue of a single thing.

"Um...I saw her chatting with Stark a couple of minutes ago. By the way, he hugged her, I feel like they are acquaintances."

Two seconds and she is already unwrapping another layer.

"Which you already know," she states more for herself than Loki, her eyes narrowing in all the suspicious thoughts. "Didn't stay here then. I think she went out into your big grassy lawn that way."

"Leaving the guests unattended?"

"She's interacted with them tonight more than you have in your lifetime. Now go make sure she's okay out there."

The air under the open sky is cool and makes it easier for you to walk further down the stony path. Not to mention the treat that is the starry sky above, glittering with no possible end.

A small structure stands in the midst of the plain field that stretches for miles and is not as wide as it is tall- almost making you compare it to a tower.

Curiosity is one alluring creature that sings for you to get closer to the structure that has a door and two windows on either side secured with iron bars.

The door has no handles and you have to search for a way to get in till you notice the biometrics systems attached in the wall to your right.

Oh, what the hell.

I already am in some sort of trouble with this guy. Might as well make it two.

Your hand and iris are scanned and much to your surprise the screen brings up your name with the message 'welcome' with the sound of the door clicking open.

You step inside and have to catch your breath at the site of wooden shelves rising from the ground to the top with nothing but books. The smell of old pages fills your lungs and calms your nerves better than any drug. The skylight above lets the stars peep in and you wonder what this place looks like during a full moon.

A desk made purely of rosewood sits by the wall in front of you overlooking the garden outside, housing a makeshift desk, coarse blank pages and a couple of fountain pens.

You let your fingers feel every little thing over the surface as you walk in awe of the things unfolding around you.

Old books on biology, ancient texts of forgotten civilizations, planet's geography, world's history, collection of diaries of war prisoners, works of fiction from around the world- there is seemingly nothing that has been forgotten by this room.

And another one just leads to the stars.

A telescope taller than you takes up half the space in the room and you have to step up the stairs leading to the platform where it stands to admire it closely.

"Well, I'll be damned," you whisper to yourself as you walk over the netted iron flooring in your boots.

"Careful with that," Loki announces out of the blue and you find yourself losing all sense of balance in his cat-like presence.

Your one hand tries to grab onto the iron support bars while the other looks for something over the body of the telescope that just so happens to be polished to perfection. Neither things help you in time as your ankle twists and you collide with something sharp and hard on your way down.

A groan escapes you.

Well, that was graceful.

The stars seem to leave streaks behind them till your head finally clears itself and you see Loki's face right over yours, a scrunch between his brows as his green eyes are looking at you in some deep thought.

Must be thinking of how I put all the ballerinas to shame.

Even if you want to tell the sassy part of your brain to cut it, it somehow eases the blow on your ego.

Moving your arms to your side you prepare to get up only to feel Loki's fingers wound around them.

"Don't. You'll end up falling again," he speaks softly but there is an edge of 'how careless can you be' somewhere in there that leaves a papercut on your feelings.

The heat builds up and rises from your chest to your neck and gradually to your cheeks.

It's hard to keep your eyes locked with his. It's harder to look anywhere else. The tiniest grooves on his skin are the prettiest site in this light. The strands of his hair are like the darkness of this night falling down to grab you; in complete contrast to the paleness of his skin.

Were you noticing the sharpness of his cheekbones now? Was he even human?

No one is supposed to have such god-like features. Especially not a man who was once insane enough to do the things he did.

The same man now sits on his knees by your side to help you feel better.

"It's better now," you declare as you try to rise up.

Loki hands support one of your arms to get you on your feet.

"Oh dear," he breathes out.

"What?"

You turn around for an answer and feel a light sway inside your head. Fortunately, Loki is quick to grab your shoulder. Unfortunately, it's the wrong shoulder.

"That," he answers as you wince at his touch and feel pain be replaced by horror as he retrieves his stained fingers and walks you down the stairs.

"You're bleeding?"

He really has to give you the look before he even acknowledges your words.

"No, Kira. You are bleeding."

Taking you out of the observatory, he points you at the cosy couch- that even has a blanket- by the window in the room of books.

"Sit."

You do as you're told.

Loki takes off his suit jacket and puts it over the back of the winged chair before folding his sleeves up and walking towards the study table.

Were his arms always this...nice?

You watch as he loosens his tie to undo his collar button and bend down to open the drawers and take out what seems like a first aid kit and come back to you.

You do not even know when your hand tucks away your hair behind your ear as you try to hide the heat increasing up over your face, dreading that he might be reading your thoughts.

"Take off your shirt."

"Hm?"

Alarm bells should be going off throughout your existence right now but all you feel is a sudden rush of a tide of a freshwater lake all over your body.

"It's ruined."

You look at your shirt, then at Loki and back at your shirt before you shift and turn to one side on the couch to unbutton it.

What bra am I wearin- oh it's the black one. That'll do.

You feel the couch dip behind you. So does your heartbeat.

The shirt is off, resting in your hands. Your fingers move over the thread torn apart when you feel him pushing your hair aside from your shoulder. You help with that bit and place the bunch in the front.

It is hard to sit straight through the peaking tension as neither of you says a word while you mentally prepare yourself not to jump this time when you feel a foreign touch against your skin.

What you don't know is that Loki is trying to avoid the same thing.

The coldness of the wet cotton comes in tiny pecks on your back, nothing less than little wet kisses of morning dew.

"The cut's not that deep. It should heal within a week."

His voice is tender. So is his touch. So sweet that when you no longer feel the cotton on your skin, it leaves a tiny sting in some part of your soul that suddenly lights up when the surface feels a cool blow over itself. Every part of your skin feels goosebumps at his mere action. Some parts of you don't want him to stop.

One part suggests something further beyond your rationale and you have to snap out of the trance of your own imagination.

You still don't realise how tightly your fingers are wringing the deep red fabric in your hand, pressing down further when another blow of cool air lands on the burning wound.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you like that this morning."

Your voice shivers. You cannot hide it no matter how hard you try. The fieriness that is building up around your neck and someplace else is making it worse. So much worse.

"I didn't mean to."

A ripping sound goes off behind you before you feel a bandage being pressed lightly over your wound.

"You caught me off-guard this morning," he finally speaks and the words seem so alien from his mouth.

"I guess we're even now," you mutter, undoing the broken red threads.

Loki looks at your reflection in glass protecting his most treasured collection. He should not be staring at your unaware face like that and yet he cannot look away.

It is one thing to be obligated to take care of you as your employer but it is another when Tony Stark himself comes over to Loki to give him an earful about taking care of you 'ten times better than you are thinking right now'.

And why wouldn't he? You had given him everything he wanted to get out of this party tonight. You had served him Tony Stark on a platter.

"I should go before I break something else," you try to joke, bringing Loki out of his train of thought.

"Wait," he instinctively responds by disappearing up a flight of stairs you did not notice before and coming back with a crisp deep blue shirt.

"Wear this."

The colour seems to compliment you and it doesn't look borrowed once you have tucked it inside your trousers.

But as luck would have it, Stark and Solaris know the difference the moment you walk back into their field of view.

"You know, if you want I can talk to Pepper and she can take a look at your resume."

"I'm fine, Mr Stark. You've already done so much for me."

"Absolutely. I've done more than enough by giving your science project an A+. How could you possibly exploit me after that?"

You burst into giggles and Tony's face lights up on watching you like that.

Even Loki stands mesmerised as he pretends to talk to a foreign ambassador while his eyes keep going back on you.

"Here," Tony brings forward a small black velvet box, "this is for you."

He doesn't tell you the contents inside the box till you have taken it in your hands.

"No takebacks," he quickly announces and you open the lid and have to suppress an aching gasp.

"No." You are scared.

"Yes." He is excited.

"This is too much."

"I swear it's not."

"Mr Stark, it's literally a flower made of stone!"

"Semi-precious stone, mind you. Okay. I'm off now. Don't show it to your boss. He's a cat. He likes glowy things. Don't lose it either. I'm not getting you another one."

"Listen, you obnoxious diva," you begin, rubbing your eyes to wash away at least some tiredness, "I have had a very long day. I am tired. I am barely able to stand. I am hurt. So, I need to lie down and get some sleep. And for that, I need your furry ass out of here."

Fenrir looks at you blankly before rolling over to the other side.

"Son of a bitch," you growl at him before pulling the duvet from under him and plopping down in your bed.

Your breath eases and so does your heavy head.

"It won't be a bad idea to take up Mr Stark's offer, would it, Fenrir?" You whisper, your eyes looking at something beyond the ceiling above you.

"It would be nice, I guess. Working for him in New York."

Silence.

A distant command of Fenrir's name comes from the halls on the west end to which Fenrir replies with a tired irritated whine.

"Fenrir, come out here before I kick you out of the house," Loki's voice echoes from the other end of the corridor, making the wolf sit up next to you.

"Hmmm," you mutter under your breath, watching the wolf leap and rushed out of the door to follow Loki's voice, "maybe some other day."

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