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celandeline · 2 years

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Disagreements (Eddie Munson x Reader) (Part Two)

If you could go back in time and tell yourself that you would be standing on the corner down the road at eight o’clock, waiting for Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson to pick you up so you could “get fast food and drive out to the lake and stargaze and maybe make out”, as he’d said, you wouldn’t believe you.

But here you were. Listening to the crickets as you waited for Eddie to come pick you up.

Since he asked you out yesterday (told you, more like), he had been the only thing on your mind. Every time Eddie would catch you looking at him, he would send a wink in your direction, accompanied by a cocky grin. Part of you - the part of you that had noticed his big brown eyes and boyish smile - could t wait for the date.

The other part of you was apprehensive, to say the least.

If anyone found out that you were going on a date with the freaky dungeons and dragons boy, you would never hear the end of it. You weren’t even sure yourself that you wanted to go. If you just turned around and went back inside, no one would know. Eddie would just think you stood him up, you could play it off like a joke…

The rumble of a car caught your attention, and you turned to see a van rolling down the street, some rock band blaring from the windows. Eddie Munson sat in the driver’s seat, bright grin on his face as he slowed down for the corner.

Too late to turn back now.

Coming to a stop, Eddie leaned out the window, grinning down at you. “Hey sweet thing. Waiting on somebody?”

“Yeah, did you see if Steve Harrington was coming this way?”

Eddie laughed, turning the music down a tad. “Oh, ouch.” He shook his head, pressing something inside his van. A click on the other side ensued. “Shotguns all yours.”

Pushing down the mix of fear and butterflies in your stomach, you circled the van and opened the passenger side door, hefting yourself up and inside. The interior of the van was as expected - covered in broken guitar picks and empty soda cans and beer bottles. As soon as you sat down, you clicked your seatbelt into place. Just in case.

“So I was thinking we grab some burgers and fries,” Eddie said, pulling away from the curb, rings glinting in the evening light. “Maybe a milkshake to share…” He raised his eyebrows, glancing away from the road to make eyes at you. “And then we can head up to the lake and climb up to the roof of this baby and watch the stars,” He paused for dramatic effect. “Maybe a joint to share…”

“You don’t even know if I smoke.” You said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You smoke.”

“You never asked-“

“I can just tell.” He said, whipping around a corner to merge onto the highway. You found yourself gripping the edge of your seat to avoid sliding off in the turn. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” You admitted.

“That’s what I thought.” He said smugly. “If you do smoke though, how come we’ve never talked before?”

“I buy from my older sister.” You said. “Family and friends discount, and all.”

“Can’t argue with that.” He said. On the radio, one rock song faded out to be replaced with another, heavy drums and blaring guitar. Eddie squared, cranking up the volume. “Dude I love this song!”

You laughed as he started to scream along with the lyrics, and hit the gas. The van jerked forward and you grabbed onto the edge of your seat again, holding on as Eddie sped down the road, heart racing.

—

As promised Eddie took you to get burgers, and you did end up splitting a milkshake, oddly enough. Two straws and all. It felt very cliche, sitting in the diner, sipping on chocolate malt while the jukebox behind you played cheesy love songs, but strangely you could find it in you to mind. It didn’t feel all that cliche with Eddie as your date.

Stomach full of ice cream and french fries, you found yourself in the van again, listening to the tires bite into the gravel as Eddie pulled into the trail leading out to the lake.

“Anyways, the point is, it’s really about as far from satanic as you can get. Like, if D&D is satanic then Lord of the Rings is too, and people love that shit.” He said. “You ever read it?”

“Yeah.” You said. “I liked it well enough - a lot of just them walking from place to place though. I would have liked some more action, or at least better pacing.”

“It’s about the environmentalism though!” Eddie said. “Tolkien only focuses on the traveling that much so that he can really drive home his points about nature-“

“How are you still trying to graduate high school?” You asked, interrupting him.

Eddie stopped talking, glancing over at you. “What do you mean?”

“Over the last couple of hours, you haven’t said one unintelligent thing. So far, you’ve convinced me pretty well that you’re smart. So what’s the deal?”

“You think I’m smart, huh?” Eddie teased, shooting another grin at you.

“I think you’re avoiding the question.” You said.

Eddie shrugged, bringing his van to slow as you approached the lake. “I guess I just never really cared that much about school. I just figured I’d flunk out and become a rockstar, but the more time I’m spending stuck there, the more I’m realizing I need that diploma.”

His voice sounded different when he wasn’t joking and teasing or flirting, and a twinge of sympathy struck you at his words. “If you ever want help, academically, I’m usually free most nights.” You said.

“Yeah?” He asked, parking the car at the end of the lane. “You looking for another excuse to hang out?”

“Sure, Eddie.” You said, unlocking your seatbelt and opening your door. “Whatever you say.”

You stepped out into the cool summer night, gazing out over the lake as a breeze ran ripples across its surface. The sky was just dark enough that the first constellations were peeking through, twinkling down at you from above.

The sound of Eddie’s boots in the gravel made you turn. “So does this thing have a ladder?” You asked.

“Nope.” Eddie grinned getting down on one knee and lacing his hands together to make a foothold. “M’lady.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He said. “I promise I won’t drop you.”

Tentatively, you stepped into the fold of his hands, your own going to grip the top of the van. With a grunt, Eddie heaved you upwards and you pulled yourself up onto the roof, rolling away from the side.

“You make it?”

“Yeah.” You said, peeking over the edge to see him standing there. “You want me to pull you up?”

“Nah, I got it.” He said. Using the back tire as a foothold, he pushed himself upwards enough to grab the edge of the roof and pull himself on top. With a thud, he clambered next to you, grin on his face. “Pretty cool spot, right.”

“For the roof of a van, sure.” You said. You did have to admit, the view of the lake and the forest and the stars was pretty nice. It felt like you and Eddie were miles from civilization, even though the drive wasn’t even half an hour. It was peaceful.

“So…” Eddie reached into the pocket of his best, pulling out and already rolled joint and a lighter. “Care to share?”

“Sure.” You said, taking the joint as he offered it to you and placing it between your lips.

Eddie flicked the lighter on, cupping his hand against the lake breeze and bringing it to the end of the joint, lighting it. You inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs and that familiar buzz settle under your skin. It was good stuff, surprisingly. Better than what you bought off your sister.

After another hit, you handed the joint to Eddie, watching as he took a hit, held it for a moment, and began to exhale smoke rings into the air. You laughed as they drifted towards the lake, expanding until they dissipated entirely. “How do you do that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Seriously, cmon.”

Eddie just shrugged. “Honestly don’t know. It’s like blowing a bubble with gum, you just keep trying until you get it.”

“Guess I’ll have to start practicing then.” You said, taking the joint as he handed it back to you.

“Hey, if you ever want a practice buddy…” Eddie said.

“You looking for an excuse to hang out again?” You joked, throwing his earlier response right back at him.

“Yeah,” Eddie responded earnestly. “I am. I’m having a great time.”

You exhaled, watching as smoke dissipated into the air. “Me too.” You said, just as earnestly. “Surprisingly.”

“Why’s that surprising?” Eddie asked.

“You come off as the kind of guy who would think sharing a milkshake is stupid.” You said. “And like, would probably think knife throwing would be a good first date.”

“A first date?” Eddie said. “No way. Now for a second date-“

You laughed, passing the joint back to him. “No way. Nuh-uh.”

“Now hold on.” Eddie plucked the joint from your fingertips. “Who said it would be with you?”

“Weren’t you the one just saying how you were having a great time and all?” You shot back.

“Touché.” Eddie shrugged. More smoke rings hovered around his head, painting him in a hazy glow.

A silence fell over you then, like a comfortable blanket. You passed the joint back and forth a few more times as you watched the sky darken fully, the moon and the stars casting the lake in a greyish light. It could have been minutes or hours until Eddie spoke again.

“We should do this again.”

You pondered it for a moment. Against all odds, you had had fun. Eddie was still loud, of course, but you had discovered he was also smarter than he seemed, and good company. As long as word didn’t get out that you were seeing the school freak, you supposed it wouldn’t hurt to do this again.

“Yeah.” You said. “We should.”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #stranger things season four #stranger things #st4 #disagreements

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frizzle-tales · 11 months

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The door clicked shut.

You are mine.

Why was her body feeling so… mellow? Her heart was beating a tad faster as an unknown warmth took over her body, waves of joy swarm through her chest as she tried to make sense of her feelings.

.. I don’t think I could ever stop myself from saving you.

Taehyung was being so… sweet. Jiyeon found herself wishing that he could be like this all the time, he made her feel so special, wanted.

The girl flinched when the sudden sound of the front door unlocking caught her attention. Didn’t Taehyung say that he was leaving? No, it had to be him, who else would have the keys?

However as his footsteps sounded on the stairway, Jiyeon quickly hid her face into the pillow, hoping that she could fool him into believing that she had fallen asleep.

Why was he even back so soon? Did he came to check on her to see if she was asleep? Jiyeon then heard the bedroom door open, followed by his voice and a quick uncuffing of the cuff.

“Huh?” Jiyeon sat up, confused, but she did as she was told, putting her arms in the coat and then letting him help her with the coat. “But…” She didn’t need to ask where they were going, Jiyeon was smart enough to figure out that he didn’t manage to leave and return so quickly from what he was needing to do, but why was she tagging along?

He wasn’t… going to bury her too, right?

Jiyeon followed Taehyung downstairs, but before she could even put on any shoes, she was swept off the ground and carried to the vehicle, and once they were in, the vehicle drove off, to who knows where.

The silence in the car was deafening; Jiyeon was at loss of words, understanding yet not understanding all the things that happened around her in rapid tempo.

“…May I turn on the radio?” Jiyeon quietly asked, and at his confirmation, she turned on the radio, turning the volume button to low as she listened to the song that softly hummed through the speaker.

All of this felt so surreal.

However, amidst the silence, a question popped up in her mind, and Jiyeon’s eyes shifted from outside the window, back to Taehyung, before she dared to ask him the question that was on her mind.

“How did you find me?” Jiyeon started, picking at her sleeve. “I mean… Did you just tune into the radio and…” She carefully thought of her next words, her gaze now glancing outside the window. “…you thought, those stories seem… familiar.” Jiyeon was so busy with coming to terms with her kidnapping, that she never took the proper time to process how all of this came to be. Thinking about it, she was nothing but a pawn in a chase of cat and mouse. “I never would’ve guessed that any of it was real...”

— 🎙️

“Come here.” Taehyung murmured before one arm found its way snaking around Jiyeon’s waist, the other under her knees. He scooped her feet out from under her, carrying her out the front door and into the passenger seat of his vechile.

Headlights illuminated the back roads, the only way the pair could avoid the mayor’s bullshit night patrol. “Go ahead.” Really without much thought, the man gave a green light to her request, checking the scene around them before turning down an unmarked road to the river.

“More or less.” Taehyung lightly chuckled at her question. She wasn’t exactly far from the truth. He did get a tip from Namjoon through the grapevine that officers were planning something, and when the oddly familiar stories popped up on some midnight podcast, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, sweetheart. You were lied to, used as bait to catch me. Jesus—” He laughed again. “—They dished you to me on a silver platter.”

When rocks crushed beneath the tires, the killer came to a stop, shifting into park. He grabbed the bottle of water he brought along, twisting off the lid before handing it to her. “Drink.” With that, he got out.

Then, with a body stuffed with rocks thrown into the river, his exotic rug set ablaze behind them, he drove home.

Back inside, Taehyung resettled his little prisoner in the guest room, this time without the chain clamped around her ankle. It wasn’t like he needed to be too cautious given how her eyes could hardly stay open. But instead of joining her, he properly fixed up the mess in his bedroom, discarding the ruined sculpture, lifting the stain soaking into the floorboards. When he was done, he finally wandered back to his sleeping girl, plopping down on a chair that faced the bed.

5:38 a.m.

And yet, he still couldn’t sleep.

Not with all the static in his head.

He wasn’t an idiot. It was clear as day he felt something for this young woman. Something that went further than curiosity or infatuation. Why else wouldn’t she be dead already? Why else would he cave in the head of that boy just for touching her?

… Why would even the mere thought of her being looked at by someone else make his skin itch with bloodlust?

A sigh released from his chest. Leather squeaked under his weight as he leaned back, closing his eyes.

There wasn’t a single other person that made him feel this way, he knew that much.

Maybe Jiyeon was meant to be his.

… Maybe it was time to make her all the way his.

—

“What a spoiled little bird you are.” Taehyung taunted as he set a cup down on the coffee table. A soft clink of glass echoing through the room. Glancing over his shoulder, he studied the TV before returning his attention to the girl curled up on the sofa. “Are you enjoying your treat?”

She looked like such a pampered princess — although, a tired one at that.

Despite her mostly just seemingly groggy from the previous night, he still brought her some water and a cap full of vitamins.

Taehyung circled around the furniture, taking a seat in the empty spot beside her, the couch dipping under his weight. For a moment, he zoned into the scene on the TV screen, but soon enough he pull to look over at the young woman.

Her eyes.. They seemed to sparkle, shining with a warm honey glow. Maybe not to others, but to hun she looked adorable in a way, entranced by an old favourite film of hers. A grin tugged on his lips, but before they could part to speak, the doorbell chimed throughout the home.

It was here.

His special delivery.

The front door to his home opened to reveal his assistant, a box in one hand, fresh take out in the other. “Oh, Jiyeonnie.” After the brief interaction ended, and the door’s clock clicked, Taehyung called out. “Come here.” He patiently waited for her to make her way to him, and when she did, he held out the box. “Go put this on.” He nodded to upstairs. “Why not doll yourself up a little bit while you’re at it.”

His eyes followed her, and the pale blue boutique box she was carrying.

Inside of it?

A little black dress.

#🎙anon #serial killer!taehyung #yandere taehyung

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runnning-outof-time · 2 years

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All I Ever Asked | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @joossieisdabomb

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) was happy with where she was with Tommy Shelby. All was going well until one day he showed up late. True feelings quickly came to light and she found that she couldn’t be caught in his grasp anymore.

Warnings: language, arguing, angst

Word Count: 2808

A/N: I may have been just a tad bit unhinged with this one. I listened to the song a few times and while it sounds rather upbeat, the lyrics tell a different story. So I went along with the lyrics. I hope you enjoy and that I did it justice! :)

A/N 2: this fic is based off of the song All I Ever Asked by Rachel Chinouriri. It will be linked down below if you want to go check it out.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you want to be put on a taglist for future stories like this one!

Sitting with her head in her hands, (Y/N) tried to figure out just how she got herself into this position. How she came across, and fell into the trap of, the blue-eyed gangster named Tommy Shelby.

She met him on a whim while she was at the Eden Club with some friends. Word on the street was that his enterprise had taken over ownership of it. The whole city was buzzing with talk of the Peaky Blinders and the handsome man who headed the ruthless razor gang. She was almost drawn to the place, wanting to see him for herself.

What was never expected was that he would take a shine to her. It started off as glances and stares from across the room before it quickly turned into loaded conversations and him renting a suite out at the Palace Hotel so that he could see her whenever he was in the city. Which is where she was right now. Except this time, Tommy wasn't there.

(Y/N) knew that this day would come. She knew who he was, but yet she blindly followed him into the dark room again and again. Because the way she felt when she was with him was like a drug to her. No matter how hard she tried not to, she had developed feelings for him. And it wasn't just from the things they did, but it was also in the way that he talked to her; the things that he said that made her feel like she was the only woman on the planet. It was like she was a modern day goddess when she was in his presence.

So when the door to the suite finally opened some time later, (Y/N) stood up from the bed and rushed out of the room into the main living area. There, she saw Tommy in the process of shrugging off his coat so that he could set it down against the top of one of the arm chairs. "(Y/N)," he greeted her as he heard her footsteps coming closer to him.

"You're late, Tommy," she said to him, trying so hard to restrain herself from peeling the suit jacket off of his frame so that it was one less article of clothing to worry about. She knew she couldn't do that. She couldn't just let him slip back into bed with her without knowing how she felt about this. They'd been seeing each other for over seven months now, which, at least in (Y/N)'s head, counted for something. She didn't feel like someone who was just a quick fuck to him anymore.

"Yeah. I had shit to deal with," he answered her as he let out a sigh. "Come 'ere," he said then, wanting nothing more than for her to fall into his arms and help him forget about the shit he had going on in his life.

"I've been waiting here for you for over half of the day," she didn't move from her spot.

"I had shit to deal with," he repeated himself, aggravation slipping into his words. She was the last person that he needed this from now.

"That's more important than me?" she questioned, her eyebrows now raised.

"Yes, (Y/N), that's way more fucking important than you," he rasied his voice slightly at her incredulous question. Was she being serious right now?

"Then what was it then? Huh? Fucking business meetings and backroom deals? Huh?!" she raised her volume to match his, showing that she would not be pushed around.

"You wouldn't even understand the half of it," Tommy shook his head and waved her off, not having the mental capacity for any of it at the moment. He just needed to clear his mind.

"Oh I wouldn't? And why's that? Because I'm just your little whore who's supposed to wait in this hotel room for you so that you can come in and unload your fucking stresses into me?"

"No, not because of that, (Y/N)," he shook his head again, another sigh escaping his lips.

"Then why, Tommy?" she asked him to explain it to her even though he made it clear that he didn't want to. "I deserve an explanation."

"I'm not giving you one," he said in a low voice, staring at the floor as he shook his head. It was almost like he was trying to keep himself composed. Like if he'd look up at her, he'd lose it.

"Why?" she questioned, glaring at him as she dared to take a step closer, "huh? Why's that, Tommy?" She was fully egging him on at this point.

"It's because you don't fucking matter like that! You don't fucking understand what it is that I do and I can't tell you what's going on with my business and my fucking family because you'll just go spreading it in the gossip circles around London!” he went off on her, giving her the reason she so desperately wanted.

"So that's who you think I am? Someone who gossips about the things you tell me in confidence?" she asked in a hushed voice, taken back by his words even though she practically forced him to say them.

"You wanted me to tell you why...I fucking told you why," was all he said to her, still unable to face her at the moment. "It's not pleasant, (Y/N). Being with me is never fucking pleasant, but you asked, so I answered."

"Yeah, and now I'm fucking leaving," she bit back at him, forcing her tears back as she grabbed her jacket and walked passed him to the door. He didn't try to stop her as she opened it and slammed it behind her. She didn't let the tears slip down her cheeks until she was a good bit away from the hotel and on her way to her apartment. She just hoped her roommate wouldn't be in and that she could sob in peace.

She should have prepared herself for this. For the inevitable doom that always came in the relationships that she had. Why did she think that this man, that this terrible man, would be different? That he would be better for her?

"You always pick the good ones, don't ya, (Y/N)," she mumbled to herself as she shut and locked the front door to her apartment. Then she moved over to her cabinets and fished the bottle of wine she had stashed out from the back of one. She opened it and poured herself a healthy glass, not caring that it was only the early afternoon. She needed something to boost her mood and she needed it quickly.

Two glasses of red wine and her latest mystery novel did the trick to get her mind off of the heartbreak that had occurred earlier. It was the evening now, and thanks to the wine she'd consumed, (Y/N) was just about ready for bed. The only thing keeping her up was the suspense of the book she was reading. She kept telling herself 'one more page' for the past hour.

Her mind was pulled out of the imaginary world it created by a knock at the front door. She set down her book on the couch before standing from it to go see who it was that was bothering her. After unlocking it, she opened the door to the last person she wanted to see. "No," she blatantly stated before going to shut the door in his face.

"Wait," he said, shoving his arm against the door jam so that it would catch it before she could latch the lock once more. (Y/N) sighed, but she didn't make an effort to get him to move his arm. "I need to speak to you, (Y/N)."

She opened the door again, her wide eyes meeting his. "How did you know where I live?" she asked him, her arms crossing over her chest.

"I know things, love."

She scoffed at his response, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. "You know I never should have fucking entertained your bullshit when you first spoke to me all those months ago," she stated, her anger shining clearly in her words. "Because look where it's gotten me."

"Can I speak to you?" he tried asking again, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for her response.

"Go on. Speak," she bit back at him, her eyebrows raising as she looked at him expectantly. She just wanted him to say his piece and get out of her life forever.

Before he started, he stepped further inside her apartment so that the door could be closed behind him. The last thing he wanted was for them to be airing out their dirty laundry in the hallway of her apartment building for everyone to hear. That would most certainly not be good for business.

"I've got a lot of shit going on right now," he prefaced his story then, and already, (Y/N) wanted to slap him in the face. She let him continue though, "I've been asked to kill a man. The people who want me to carry this out have constructed the plan for me, and in the way they want it done, I will have no means of escape. They're going to kill me once it's done. I've just learned this yesterday, and now as I've come into London today I found out that a person from my past has come back to England and they want to...meet me again. On top of this, my cousin and my fucking brother are presently behind bars and are facing the noose if I don't get them out, and my alliances in Camden Town have been shattered," he let out a long sigh after he finished his monologue. His eyes matched (Y/N)'s then and he studied her face for a moment. She was obviously using the quiet moment to digest and think about what was just said. So he used that time to get one more statement in: "I was looking forward to seeing you today, truthfully," he told her while looking her in the eyes, showing that he meant what he was saying.

(Y/N) stood silent for a few more seconds before she gave her response, "you know, up until today, you were one of my main purposes in life. I'd get so excited when you'd be coming to London, because it meant that I'd get to see you; get to spend time with you. Today...today you showed me that what you really are in my life is a problem. You're a major problem that I need to get sorted out quickly," she paused, letting out a sigh as she shook her head and laughed slightly, more in spite of herself than anything, "and I felt bad for you because of the shit going on with your family and the amount of pressure you've got on you right now from the special operatives, or whatever the fuck they're called, but now I see that that was only you making it all about yourself. Just like right now...you're making it all about yourself," she finished her piece by staring up at him with a stony expression.

Tommy's eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to understand what she was saying, "how am I making this about myself?" he asked for her to explain it again.

"You show up here, at my apartment, and you give your spiel about all of the shit going on in your life, and you act like I'm supposed to fucking care about it. Are you even sorry for what you said to me earlier? You know, when you told me that I 'don't fucking matter like that'. Are you sorry for that? Or is what you're doing here now just you trying to justify you being late?" she asked him, hoping that her voice wouldn't waver and show how much hurt she was holding inside her at the moment. “Because, let me tell you…I really didn’t care that you were fucking late. That wasn’t the problem at all.”

"(Y/N), I..." he tried, but he didn't have the words, so he trailed off his sentence with a sigh, dropping his eyes to the ground as he scratched the back of his neck.

She let out a breath of a laugh at his pathetic response, shaking her head as she pursed her lips together. It was getting harder and harder for her to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. "For all I know, you adored me. That you enjoyed the times we spent together. And you just choose to keep that in your head and not tell me because...hell, I don't know, maybe you like that you have this pawn over me and you like that I keep coming back regardless if I know how you feel or not," she took a deep breath and swiped away a rogue tear that rolled down her cheek before she continued, "well I'm done coming back to you, Tommy," she made sure that her last sentence hurt him, spite clear in her words.

"A little more time, (Y/N). Just give me a little more time so this can all get straightened out and we can be together," he looked at her with those eyes. And with those beautiful blue irises boring into her, she almost crumbled. Almost.

"That's funny, Tommy. Really," she held her stance, letting out a dry laugh as she kept up his gaze.

She needed to show him that he wasn't fazing her. That she wasn't going to be putty in his hands for him to keep using however he pleased. She needed to show him that she was strong and that she knew her worth.

"What?" he furrowed his brows, completely confused by her response to his statement.

"It’s funny that you're asking me for more time when that's all I've ever asked of you. More time; that's all I wanted. A little more time together when you'd come to see me. A little more time for us to be out of that fucking hotel room where we don't have to act like we're hiding from the world," she gave him her stark explanation, hoping that her words were hurting him as much as his had hurt her, "but now I don't want to give you anymore of my time. Now, I want you out of my life for good."

"(Y/N)..." he tried.

"No. Go, Tommy," she wasn't having it, cutting him off by speaking and motioning to the door for him to walk back through it and out of her life. But he still stayed, standing in his spot like he was frozen to it. It was making (Y/N) more angry with each second that passed. "Maybe I didn't make it obvious enough to you in my previous statement. I'm done giving you my time. You need to leave," she tried to get him to go once more, motioning her hand towards the door again so that he also had a visual cue.

Tommy stood stagnant for a few more moments before he took a step back and spun on his heel so that he was facing the door. (Y/N) stayed where she was as he slowly took the few steps that were needed for him to get to the door. She was so close to him being gone. So close to the healing that she'd get from him being out of her life. She could almost feel it. His hand was reaching for the door knob now. But before he could turn it, he stopped and turned to look at her. All of her hope was deflated as his eyes met hers again. Just fucking leave! was what she wanted to scream at him. She settled for a defeated sigh instead.

"Bye, (Y/N)," he spoke in a soft voice, and it was almost like he knew that his tone was any louder, she'd blow up on him. He could read her like an open book. He knew that she was just barely holding herself together. He also knew that he was the very reason for that. So he didn't wait for her to say anything in response. Once he was finished speaking, he took one last look at her and turned the handle to the door.

As he stepped through the open doorway, (Y/N) felt an immense rush of sadness. She'd miss the time they spent together. She'd miss how he made her feel. But she knew that she couldn't let herself be treated like that. So she let the blue-eyed gangster walk through the door and out of her life.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21

MASTERLIST

Listen to All I Ever Asked here:

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #peakyxtommy #Spotify

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xcrystalzero · 3 years

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all the things i believed

pairing: xiao x reader

summary: you've only seen the boy who lives in the apartment one over from yours a few times, but you knew the look of someone who wanted to seem intimidating when you saw one. so, why was his music taste so adorable?

alternatively, xiao thinks that the apartment walls are a lot thicker than they actually are and accidentally exposes the fact that he's not nearly as angsty as he wants everyone to believe.

note: soft xiao makes me way too happy. also, here is xiao's playlist! i recommend listening while you read :) if you guys like it, i'll make playlists for my fics more often!

"I'll miss you!" Your roommate had her arms wound tightly around your torso and it didn't seem like she planned on letting go any time soon. She was also squeezing just a tad too hard and it was starting to hurt.

Gingerly, you patted her on the shoulder, subtly attempting to pry her off of you with your other hand. "I'll miss you too... But remember, it's only two weeks and then you're back!"

That only served to make her pout even more as she finally pulled away "Two weeks is so long though! How am I going to survive without you and your brownies?"

"Hah, so you're really only worried about not having brownies huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" she whined, causing you to giggle slightly. Honestly though, there was no way anyone watching could possibly think that she would only be gone for two weeks. Your roommate had decided that she needed three full suitcases and the world's largest carry-on purse for her little trip, and you were honestly a little worried about it.

"Ahem..." Your bonding moment was promptly interrupted by a soft but very present voice directly behind you. Whirling around, you came face to face with a vaguely familiar figure.

It was the golden eyes that caught your attention first. Even in the strange fluorescent light of the hallway, they almost seemed to have a light of their own, a hypnotizing sort of gleam that you couldn't bring yourself to look away from. Of course, the rest of him was no less than stunning either. Dressed head to toe in black with his angular features and lean build, he was striking.

His eyes widened slightly as you turned towards him though they settled fairly quickly back into what you could only assume was his trademark glare.

"Just... trying to get through." His voice was gruff, but much softer than you had anticipated. Perhaps even gentle?

Oh yeah, that was how you knew him! Your schedules must have been somewhat similar since you were sure you passed him at least a few times a week. You had never talked but you were pretty sure you had seen him going into the unit one over from yours quite a few times.

So this was your neighbor huh? He was cute, if a little intimidating.

"Oh sorry!" your roommate chimed in. "We were just leaving, we'll get out of your way!" She began to scoot her bags to the side and you quickly joined in, wheeling one of the suitcases to the side, though you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off of the guy. Every time you looked away, it was as though your gaze was drawn back towards him by some unnatural force.

It helped that he seemed just as awkward with the whole thing as you did, alternating glancing between the you and your roommate, the floor, and his phone. As soon as there was enough space for him to squeeze by, he did, mumbling a quick thanks as he made his way down the hall, unlocking his door and disappearing into his apartment in what felt like a second.

After a moment of silence, your roommate piped up again. "He's cute!"

"He can probably still hear you!" you whacked her across the shoulder, causing her to pout in your direction again, though the teasing look never left her eyes.

"He's kind of your type too isn't he?" she all-but waggled her eyebrows in your direction to which you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you already late for your flight"

"Oh shit!"

~~~

The apartment felt so strange when you were alone. Usually around this time of night, your roommate would have come banging on your door to join her for her late night rom-com marathon or to help her chose an outfit or the party she was going to. Tonight however, everything was quiet.

With a sigh, you slumped over onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone in hopes of finding some sort of entertainment.

That was when you heard it. The soft sound of an instrumental through the wall, slowly building in volume as you assumed whoever lived in that room turned up the volume.

"40 days and 40 nights... I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life..."

Aww cute, love songs! Had you been busy or doing literally anything else, you might have been annoyed, or at least a little worried about exactly how loud they had to be playing their music for you to be able to hear it. As things stood though, it was a welcome distraction.

"You were out of my league, all the things I believed, you were just the right kind yeah you were more than just a dream..."

Oh yeah, you knew this song too! There was a sort of second timbre to the sound and you wondered if the person playing the music was singing along as well.

Wait, who was playing that music. Judging by the sound, it was likely the unit one to your left where their wall joined with yours. The unit one to your left...

Multi-colored hair and golden eyes... The cute guy? Pulling yourself immediately up into a sitting position, you pressed yourself to the wall before immediately realizing how crazy you were acting.

He was just playing music, that wasn't anything weird.

"Romeo take me, somewhere we can be alone..."

Taylor Swift. He was playing Taylor Swift. At that, you started laughing. Wow, appearances really could be deceiving huh? You sighed as you leaned with your back against the wall, letting the vibrations from the music soak into your very being.

You were sure that you'd heard music coming from that unit before but he wasn't usually loud at all. Maybe something was different today? Maybe you'd ask him when you next saw him. And maybe, he'd actually want to talk to you when you did.

Or maybe not.

So for now, you let your head rest against the wall, letting the music and soft singing lull you into relaxation.

~~~

That was it, you despised public transportation. All you wanted was to get out of your apartment for one day and take your work to a nearby cafe. So of course, when you ran outside to catch the bus that came once every hour, the bus driver looked you straight in the eye as he closed the door right in front of you and drove off. And then for good measure, it started raining.

You sighed, burying your face in the backpack on your lap. If the bus app was right, which it rarely was, there was another bus you could take arriving in the next few minutes, so maybe this wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

The sound of footsteps entering the little bus stop booth got your mind off of your moping as you raised your head just enough to peer over at who it was that had just joined you.

Oh. Standing there, hood pulled up over his multi-toned hair and seemingly permanent scowl fixed on his lips, was your hot neighbor. Your hot neighbor with very interesting music taste if last night told you anything.

Since nothing could go right for you, the moment that you looked at him, he looked at you, meaning the two of you got to share a few agonizing seconds of awkward eye contact before he pointedly turned away with a soft "tsk". That being said, you were sure that you weren't imagining the slight tinge of shock you had seen in his gaze for a moment.

"You've got good timing, there's one coming in like 5 minutes." You had no idea how you had managed to get the words out without stuttering or blushing the moment he turned back to look at you.

"That's good..." Yup, that was an expected response, and yet, you really just wanted him to keep talking. So this was the end of your story with the gorgeous emo boy next door. Relegated to exchanging conversation about public transportation and nothing more. It was really the wasted potential here that was killing you. So many cute interactions that would just never happen. Ah if only the bus would come so that you wouldn't have to wallow in your despair any longer.

"I... thought you were leaving yesterday?"

Oh? You whirled around way too quickly to face the man, causing his eyes to widen as he shifted away instinctually.

"Oh, I was just helping my roommate move all of her stuff," you managed to get out, summoning what you hoped was a non-nervous smile to your lips.

"Those were all her bags?" he seemed horrified, enough so that you couldn't hold back your laughter.

"I said the same thing! She's kind of insane sometimes but I love her..." Well, it was no or never. "I'm [name] by the way!" You smiled and extended a hand out towards the boy.

He regarded you for a moment with a look you couldn't put into words. After what felt like an eternity however, he gently took your hand in his own, holding it for barely a moment before pulling back again. "Xiao."

Xiao. There was a strange sense of relief that came with this new knowledge. Know that you knew his name, was it couth to ask him what his favorite Taylor Swift song was? Probably not. But there was a chance that you might literally never be able to talk to him again... Meh, it was as you were thinking before right? Now or never.

"Hi Xiao. I liked your playlist last night by the way." The words came out more effortlessly than you had thought they would, carefree and teasing.

You were a little bit surprised though when you glanced back over at Xiao, only to find him eyes blown wide as a deep red spread quickly across his cheeks. "Y-You!"

"Honestly a pretty good curation! If a little unexpected..." You had no idea what it was about this guy but he really brought the snarky, teasing part of you out. Maybe it was the fact that while he usually looked cold and intimidating, blushing, embarrassed Xiao was strangely adorable.

"I thought you left!" Xiao blurted out. "I mean... There were so many bags... And your roommate said that you guys were leaving..."

You stared blankly at him for a moment before immediately dissolving into peals of laughter. Xiao had the gall to pretend to be offended for a moment before he looked away with a soft huff. "What..."

"You know, I kind of thought you were scary at first," you managed between giggles. "I guess not though!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable." Xiao rolled his eyes though you were sure that you saw the slightest hint of a smile as he did. "Why were you listening through the walls anyway?"

"Xiao, it was literally so loud."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"And I think I heard some singing too! Say, you in a band? Do you guys usually just write love songs?"

"I was not singing!"

There was a strange warmth in your chest as the two of you went back and forth. So things could go right for you after all?

~~~

Sadly, you and Xiao hadn't been going the same way, so when his bus came - before yours you might add - the two of you had parted ways. The sun had been going down when you made your way back home, satisfied with a productive day, though the memory of your conversation with Xiao was still taking up a lot more headspace than you would have liked.

So this is what it was like to simp for a guy? You weren't sure you liked it.

Setting down the takeout you had picked up on the counter, you crashed onto your living room couch with a low groan. Sleep would be nice right about now, but also, you had to eat and shower and clean...

"I wonder what Xiao's doing?" The thought appeared in your head suddenly and you almost smacked yourself right then and there. Why were you always thinking about him? You'd literally spoken to the guy once, and it wasn't anything special! Just some teasing and his little retorts... And his cute blush... And his little smile... And the way he pretended to be annoyed when he was clearly enjoying it... Wow, this was worse than you thought.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?"

You yelped, jumping up in your seat at the sudden noise, coming once again from the wall separating you and Xiao's units. You paused for a moment but before you could stop yourself, you were back up on your feet, making your way over and banging against the wall.

"You're not fooling anyone Xiao!" you yelled, not sure if he could even hear you. Apparently he could since the music stopped as quickly as it had started. There was a moment of silence as you pressed your ear to the wall, waiting for his next move. What you did not expect was to hear sound in the other direction. A knock on your door.

Confused, you made your way over, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal, Xiao? He was still wearing his giant black hoodie, though the glare was missing.

"Did you run out of sugar or something? Or fake angsty songs to play?" you questioned with a grin.

As expected, he let out a soft huff, turning his head away in fake exasperation. "You're a menace."

"So what I'm hearing is that you want me to send in a noise complaint!"

"You idiot... I'm just here to-" For whatever reason, he was blushing again.

"Here to?" you prompted, wondering if you should invite him in or offer him water or something. He was tugging at the collar of his hoodie too...

"J-Just here to say that if you're going to sit there listening through the walls, you might as well just come over..."

Did you hear that right? You stared at him for a moment longer, blinking slowly. This was probably a dream right? You were so tired when you got home that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to..." Or maybe not.

"You know, normal people just invite people over without pretending to be edgy right?"

"Shut it, are you coming or not?"

"Yeah yeah I'm coming. Oh yeah, I got takeout, I'll bring it. It's from that new place down the street, Wangshu Inn. Have you ever had Almond Tofu before?"

"... you're unbelievable."

note: i want a hot neighbor like xiao... i did have a hot neighbor who i did hit on, but then i found out that he had a girlfriend so i stopped... but xiao would be better.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin impact au #genshin au #modern au #xiao #xiao genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao genshin x reader #alatus

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frankiekatt · 3 years

Note

If it's not too much to ask, maybe you could write some soft moments between Bo Sinclair (house of wax) and his significant other?

Anon, of course! Of course my horse! This is the first request that I've ever written for, and I tried my absolute best! I really hope you like it!

TW: Implied death, blood, implied NSFW

Soft Moments Between Bo Sinclair And His S/O

Many people like to headcannon Bo as being a cold asshole (which he IS), but in my opinion, there is so much more to him. I headcannon Bo as being gruff, but also an unapologetic simp for his S/O!

Being with Bo means knowing everything about him, Ambrose, his brother Vincent, and The House of wax, and sticking by his side. Remaining loyal to him, no matter what.

This means that you’re around when Bo and Vincent lure their victims into Ambrose to add them to the wax figure collection. However, Bo has made it very clear that you are not to be around any of the violence whatsoever. Your job is to stay home and “sit pretty.”

On the days where Bo has to chase down new victims, he often earns a few wounds here and there, some serious, some not. When Bo staggers home, having just handed off the latest victim to Vincent, he prefers to clean his blood and patch up his wounds himself. After all the violence and blood and pain Bo endures on these days, any comforting or help you try to provide him just irritates and overwhelms him. If you sit next to him on the living room couch once he’s done cleaning himself up though, and run your fingers through his hair to relax him, he will absolutely melt in your arms.

Bo’s favorite thing in the world is your hands. He just thinks they’re so soft and dainty and small compared to his. Getting any kind of attention from your hands makes him feel like he could die happy.

His favorite place to have your hands is in his hair and on his chest. After long days of dealing with new people in Ambrose, Bo loves to lay his head in your lap while you sift your fingers through his dark locks and talk to him about anything and everything. Late at night, when neither you nor Bo could seem to fall asleep, you would lay next to him in bed, telling him stories of your childhood, and stroking his chest. On very, very rare nights, Bo can feel you trace the old scars that are imbedded on his chest and his wrists, whispering to Bo that you think he is so, so handsome, that he’s so special and he’s yours and you love him. During these rare nights, Bo holds you impossibly close to him, feeling like the luckiest bastard in the world for being able to be with someone like you.

On the days where there weren’t any strangers in Ambrose to deal with, Bo could usually be found down in his shop, working on old, rundown vehicles Lester had found on the side of the road or fiddling with his trusty truck. On these days, you could usually be found down in Bo’s shop to keep him company.

The two of you could spend hours upon hours together in that garage, flirting and conversing about anything that came to either of your minds.

Bo would be stealing glances at you every now and then while he repairs fan belts and spark plugs, hoping that the wind would blow your dress just a tad bit higher than it already was. He would find himself smiling a bit every time your giggles filled the room.

You would be sitting on a stool nearby, admiring Bo’s toned back as he worked, finding the tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead incredibly enticing, losing yourself completely in Bo’s charming southern lilt anytime he threw a flirty comment your way.

Contrary to popular belief, Bo is actually a decent cook – he just hates to do it.

So, when you come around, wielding a silver spatula proudly, Bo is more than grateful.

On night’s when Bo is home to see you cook dinner, he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

Watching you go about the kitchen, humming quietly to yourself, tending to meat sizzling or stew bubbling atop the stove makes his heart skip a couple beats. The scene before him is just so dazzling and domestic compared to every other aspect in his life. The only thing he missed about his mother was home cooked meals

After dinner is finished cooking, you and Bo sit together at the dining room table, chatting about each other’s day, poking fun at each, flirting, laughing, enjoying each other’s presence to the fullest.

The first time Bo told you he loved you was in no way a picturesque, Hollywood movie type moment, but for the two of you, it was the most memorable moment of your lives’.

It had been pretty late on that night, even Vincent had stalked up to his room to turn in for the night.

You and Bo, however, were serious night owls, often finding yourselves roaming about the house late at night together, watching tv, playing pool, or making love on any surface in Bo’s sight.

This night, you found yourself listening to the kitchen radio on a low volume while you and Bo lounged on the couch, seldom commenting on whatever the radio host was talking about.

After the host was done with his segment, the music resumed, playing an old, soft love song that you recognized.

You shot up from the couch and raced toward the kitchen. “Bo,” you said turning to him with a look of joy that twisted his insides. “I love this song! My Mama used to sing this to me every night when I was younger. Come dance with me!”

Bo wasn’t one to waltz around the house with his s/o to love songs, but the way you were looking at him with excitement and adoration in your eyes, how could he refuse? “Sure, darlin’.”

And that was how the two of you found yourselves gently swaying in the kitchen to a gentle lull that filled the small kitchen.

You head was rested against Bo’s shoulder and your arms were tangled around his neck, which meant you were flushed against his chest. Your scent was filling Bo’s nose and your love was filling his chest until he felt like he was about to burst.

Bo knew he loved you a long time before he had actually told you. Even though you had showed him time and time again that you were loyal to him and you would stick by him through thick and thin, he still had doubts in the back of his mind. He had led such a brutal and rugged life that he felt like someone as sweet and pure as you didn’t belong in his life. That one day you would up and leave and he would be left with nothing but a broken heart.

But something about this particular moment, something about how small you looked compared to him, something about this song and the pretty little night gown you were wearing and something about the way his heart was beating out of his chest made him whisper those three little words.

“I love you,” he whispered while his lips were pressed against your ear.

Bo allowed the fear of losing you to consume his body for just a split second before you lifted your head and gazed at him with a honied smile and eyes filled to the brim with love and infatuation before you rose on your tippy toes to kiss him sweetly.

“I love you too. So much.”

#asks #requests #slashers #slasher x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader

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fairestwriting · 3 years

Note

If you are interested, I would like a hc of how Vil, Idia, Azul, and Jamil would react to walking in on their s/o blasting music in their headphones and dancing like nobody’s watching. Have a lovely day. ❤️

Yes i love them i am very interested. here you go!

Vil Schoenheit

Would find it really endearing, actually.

You'd usually notice him walking into your room, high heels aren't exactly silent, after all, but because the music covered up the noise, he gets to stand near your door and watch for a bit.

It's a little strange for a second because he knows all these dancing and singing techniques, and his first instinct is to just point out what's clumsy about your moves and how to improve them -- But none of that really comes to mind now, when you look so radiant and full of energy, more beautiful than professional singer or dancer he'd ever seen.

He's smiling at you with a warmth he never shows to others once you finally notice him, the presence startling you so much you just switch off the song in a blink.

If you're embarrassed, he tells you there's no need for that, he's quite enjoyed the show.

"Of course, there are improvements to be made, but the performer was stunning." He teases with a chuckle, and kisses your forehead.

Idia Shroud

"Hey, do you-- Ahh, s-sorry!"

At first he acts like he's walked in on you naked or something lmfao. Squeals and tries to walk away, poor boy just doesn't want you to feel embarrassed because of him.

"Um, I didn't see anything! S-So, you don't have to..."

Switch off or turn the volume down, you'll have to let Idia know it's actually okay, it's not really a big deal at all.

Once he calms down from the initial shock, though, he finds the image of you dancing and singing so pretty. When he remembers your bright smile he has one of these "Oh, man, I'm in love" sort of moments.

Won't directly comment on it much, but if you two are doing something together in silence later, he might remember it and quietly bring up the fact that he loves your smile, his cheeks red.

Azul Ashengrotto

"Good afternoon, s/o, are you -- Oh?"

Stops on his tracks, blank faced for a moment. You quickly notice him and pause the song, apologizing for the moment and telling him you weren't expecting him to arrive now.

"Have I interrupted something?" He'll ask with a lightly teasing smile, but won't actually tease you about it. He loves you, he's glad you're having your fun.

Not much of a reaction otherwise, though it lifts his mood up a little bit. You'll notice him just a tad more cheerful today after this little encounter.

If you're particularly talented with singing, he might suggest you perform at Mostro Lounge one day. He'd be happy to arrange all the preparations if you do accept. Not even just to get more costumers in, but also so you can show off your skills like how you deserve to.

Jamil Viper

...is very sneaky. The sort of guy who makes no noise when he moves at all, so you won't notice him walking into your room with or without music.

Stops near the door for just a second to watch you. Seeing you act so carefree is a very refreshing to him, especially if he’s tired (And he probably is)

But he doesn’t really wait until the show is over or anything. He’ll walk up to you and casually go “Hey, I’m here.”

He’ll also think it’s sort of cute if you’re startled or embarrassed by him seeing you, he’ll assure it’s alright with a small smile.

Like Azul, he doesn’t have that much of a reaction. After this, he’ll resume with whatever you two were meant to do now.

Asks you to keep the music on if you’re just hanging out though, just turn the volume down a bit. Might ask you about the song and the artist, then some recommendations if it’s something he’s liking to listen to.

#i hope you have a lovely day too anon ^_^#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil wiper x reader #lis writing

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romiantic · 3 years

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

❛ 𝐢 𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧’ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜, 𝐢’𝐦 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭 ❜

[ 𝖪𝖠𝖹𝖴𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖠 𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖤𝖬𝖨𝖸𝖠 𝖷 𝖡𝖫𝖠𝖢𝖪!𝖥𝖤𝖬!𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖤𝖱 ]

✰ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 1.1k

✰ 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 + 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: fluff + language

✰ 𝗔/𝗡: this was supposed to be a drabble….idk how it turned into a fic-

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄? We’re so young, boy we ain’t got nothing to lose.” The R&B singer aloud on your living room TV, you sang along like you were at a concert performing with her. You’re not sure why but this song always brings a positive yet lovey-dovey feeling whenever it is played, but then again, it isn’t called “Kiss Me More” for a reason. Every time you sing this song, your mind goes straight to thinking of your handsome boyfriend Kazutora, just the thought of showering him with unlimited amounts of affection gives you this elated feeling, like a little girl with a school crush. This song always reminds you of how grateful you are to love and be loved by someone like Kazutora. He isn’t the best at love but the way he tries his best, every day at that, convinces you that he does love you covers that.

Currently the black/sandy blonde hair boy was doing some paperwork for the pet shop in the guest room. Giving blame to the song, you were definitely in need of a kiss from Kazutora but you didn’t want to disturb his peace, especially when it came to his job. Then again, one peck wouldn’t hurt him.

You left the TV on with music still playing yet turned down the volume a little bit. You took quiet steps to the room, making sure not to make a single peep, also being quiet as you twisted the knob. Entering inside, you saw the sight of your fine boyfriend with his typical look; hair tied up on a ponytail, lounge clothes on, and tapping his cheek with a pen. Even though it was an everyday look for him, just seeing him like this makes your heart louder and the lovey-mushy feeling that's swirling around your brain elevates to a higher volume. The demand of wanting to just sit on his lap and sprinkle the boy’s face with kisses was much higher.

You closed the door and approached the boy, still trying not to disturb his peace, and placed your chin on his shoulder. While there, you skimmed the messy pile of papers that laid out on his desk then looked over to Kazutora, who currently looked like he needed a break or two.

“What are you doing?” Asking him in a sing-songey tone and in a high-pitched voice.

“The shop recently got some new animals and Chifuyu left me to do all the legal signing. All this paper in front of me makes me feel like I’m popping a vein, no one told how stressful this legal shit is.”

“Someone should’ve told you when you were locked up.” You mumbled, though it was clear that you wanted him to hear it, just a joke, nothing serious. Of course, Kazutora heard and rolled his eyes at your slick comment, sarcastically replying, “Haha y/n, it’s too bad that I was busy fighting for my life in there and trying not to get stabbed by a damn chicken bone.”

You let a small snicker, “Not the chicken bone and not you trying to talk like me.”

Kazutora sucked his teeth at your repetitive response, “You always think someone is trying to be like you y/n.”

“Cause you are Kazu’,” you snaked your arms around his shoulder and moved a tad bit closer to his neck, giving him a small peck there and hoping he wouldn’t notice, “see how you sucked your teeth? Tryna be like me for real, it’s fine though, I don’t mind a y/n junior.”

He still noticed but didn’t think anything of it since you’re always trying to sneak a kiss or two, instead he continued on with his paperwork. “I think a Kazutora junior sounds better.” You scrunched your face, giving him a look that said, ‘fuck no’ to his idea

“One thing for sure and two things for certain, never in my life will I name my kid after their father, motherfuckers always end up looking like their damn father. Plus if he ends up like you, I already know I’m gonna get a headache.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m talking about before jail you, ya know ‘gang gang’ Kazu.” You threw up fake gang signs and giggled at the way your boyfriend sighed from your goofy nature. “Did you come in here for something or you just wanted to argue about our future kid?”

“Can I do both?” You smiled brightly.

“Will you name our son after me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then no.”

“Fuck you.” You removed your arms from Kazutora and pulled away from his body, leaving his desk with a fake mad face. Whilst, your boyfriend knew that you were putting up an act and grabbed you by your waist, pulling you back to him. You tried to continue the act and pretended to run away but gave up since you knew Kazutora wasn’t gonna let go till you gave up the act.

All too quickly you dropped it when he sat you on his lap and positioned his head into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses. Even though you dropped it, you kept a face and tried not to make a move, indicating that you were still “mad” and that the kisses weren't phasing you. Though, it didn’t help when his kisses started trailing upwards, leaving your neck and heading up to your chin. His lips felt warm against your brown skin, feeling soft when they brushed up and placed one kiss after another, either on the same exact spot or circling around.

Oh these moments, his sweet kisses that you always adored, his kisses that spoke for him, saying, “I love you and I know you love me.” Kisses that made it feel like he was your high school sweetheart, giving such a feeling that just resembled being at cloud nine. His hair tickling your cheek and his hands set on your stomach, giving small squeezes to your plushy body here and there.

From here, your body was starting to melt away, ready to give itself away and respond to Kazutora’s kisses. Kazutora knew that himself when you fleetly connected your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling at your demand finally being filled when Kazutora kissed you back. He pulled back and lightly laughed at your face giving a blissful look, eyes lit up and your mouth stretched a great smile.

“Happy now?”

“You knew I wanted kisses didn’t you?”

“The song might have given it away.”

“It’s catchy ain’t it?” You started humming the words and did a move or two. Kazutora gave a small smile and enjoyed the close contact of the two of you, realizing once again how much he loved and how much you loved me. Truly believed that nothing can separate the two of you, the love was too great and too strong.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @morosis-haze @loversdni @xetou @tortoise-kun @kentania @4igital @mitsumya

if you would like to be added onto the taglist, fill out the form on my navi or let me know in my inbox !!

✰ the kazutora brain rot have been real lately…..

✰ that and need to know>>>> doja didn’t have to eat like she did when making this song

bye babes, drink your water, stay hydrated, and remember that you are the baddest bitch on the planet 🥰 no matter what ANYONE says

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝟖:𝟑 💗

TOKYO REVENGERS MASTERLIST ✰ MAIN MASTERLIST

#x black reader #tokyo revengers x black!reader #tokyo revengers x black reader #tokyo revengers fluff #kazutora x black reader #kazutora x black!reader #kazutora hanemiya x black reader #kazutora hanemiya x black!reader #kazutora fluff #kazutora hanemiya #anime x black reader #anime x black!reader

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ominoose · 2 years

Note

wait… omi.,, HERES an idea… maybe… platonic slasher hcs for them playing minecraft with u 😼😼😼😼 I am so smart and love minecraft

-juvie

Characters: RZ Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Brahms Heelshire

Juvie I love you so much, this is exactly the type of asks I want on this blog !!😭😭 Worth noting I haven't played Minecraft since before the new update and since some of the slashers were in a time before video games, Im bringing them to 2022 but they're magically not aged.

𝐑𝐙 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬

☽ Michael hasn't played or kept up with video games in nearly 20 years. He hadn't owned many as a kid, all he had was Doctor Mario and Aliens on his trusty Gameboy. Despite the lack of variety, he was an avid fan of gaming, especially after a rough day at school.

☽ When you sit him down at your computer and boot up the launcher, he is transfixed to the screen. The graphics are much crisper than he remembers, he can't even count the pixels on screen but is comforted to see that things are still mostly squared.

☽ As the game loads up and a song starts softly chiming, he turns the volume up. He won't say it, but soundtracks were one of his favourite things about gaming, listening to the songs give him a small bit of comfort.

☽ He is wildly confused when he loads in. You manage to help him get the basic controls down quickly, and he's soon chopping wood down, gathering dirt, making some basic tools, making a very shabby house of half planks, dirt and cobblestone. It's standard gameplay, which he might get a bit bored with after a while.

☽ Night-time changes things. You try to encourage him to stay inside for his first night, but he'd already made his sword. Before you could hold him back, he was sprinting out of the house to the groaning outside. Michael knew well enough about zombies in video games.

☽ That's all he'll do. He's a fighter, and mostly plays in caves. God forbid he comes across a village. Surprisingly, his weapon of choice is flint and steel. If you pay enough attention, his shoulders will shake slightly in a chuckle when the mobs fizzle. Only plays to kill, and if he sees you playing it he will push you off to take over.

☽ Make sure to move him away from the computer if it seems like he's going to die. He will crush your desk and growl in frustration, even if he doesn't mean to. While you're at it, it might be worth adding a mod to remove creepers.

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭

✦ Thomas has never seen, nor heard of video games in his entire life. The entire concept sounds crazy to him. A world made of squares inside a tv looking thing where you're a miner, butcher, farmer, monster slayer and all sorts? At first, he thinks you're talking nonsense to him, pranking him maybe.

✦ Loading the game up doesn't help him much either, he's never seen a computer before. When he realises it's like a tv he can control, it helps ease him into it. The graphics are more saturated and colourful than he's used to, and the sounds and sudden pop-ups startle him a tad.

✦ He really struggles with the controls. His fingers are almost bigger than the keys, and the mouse is entirely foreign to him. He doesn't make much progress during his first day while he tries to get a basic grasp of things. You'll need to take over to make him a little dirt house before nightfall so he won't die.

✦ Thomas likes the animals, especially the pigs. He follows them around a bit to see what they're doing, a laugh huffing out of his mask when he sees them bump into things. You're likely bored at this point, but he enjoys the simple things, the concept alone is amazing him.

✦ Jumps at the first sound of a zombie. Despite having explained to him that monsters come out at night, he wasn't sure what to have expected to prep himself. He will not go out, even with a sword. His pride won't let him look scared, but the way he's leaning back and tensing until sunrise speaks volumes.

✦ Settles into the role of a traveller. He'll eventually grow used to the hostile mobs, not caring too much about running into them anymore, although he absolutely hates skeletons. You kill something by running at it and hitting it, so being hit before you can even get to the thing infuriates him. Thomas won't break your desk, but he will pound his fist on the desk if a creeper or skeleton sneaks up on him.

✦ When he finds out you can join his game too, even when you're not at the house, Thomas is excited. It's nice to be able to hang out with you when he can't find the time to finish his chores early enough and slot you into his day, which is unfortunately often. Whenever you join the world, your chests will be stocked up with food, iron and coal.

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫

☽ He is so excited to try this with you! Bubba has absolutely no idea what a video game is, but you had him at chickens. As jazzed as he is, you will need to take the time to explain how it all works to him, several times. He's so excited that he's not fully taking in what you're saying.

☽ The music delights him, especially the more upbeat songs, he'll be wiggling his shoulders and nodding his head to the beat. When he spawns in, he is practically vibrating with excitement and awe at everything.

☽ Bubba spends tons of time watching some cows on a beach when he spawns in. Having never been to a beach before, he'll be deeply amused at the idea of a little farm cow getting some tan. He'll jump in and out of the water too just to listen to the splashing noises.

☽ Knowing Bubba well enough, you encourage him to build a shelter before things get dark, but he cuts it slim when he ends up chasing chickens (it took him a while to recover when he accidentally hit one, the poor thing was nearly crying with guilt). You'll take over and build one for him, which makes him a bit whiny, but he ends up grateful when the spooky noises start.

☽ Creative mode gets turned on real quick after Bubba has a near panic attack seeing the spider scuttling around outside the door. His hands come off the keyboard and cover his mask with a horrified cry. It'll take some convincing to get him back on the game, but when you hug and reassure him enough, reminding him of the chickens that are waiting outside for him, Bubba will take it back up.

☽ Bubba is a farmer through and through. He makes a little farm all on his own, and on his farm, he doesn't need to be a butcher. The chickens and pigs are his friends now while he tends to his sizeable crop of potatoes and carrots. Next to his farm is a massive barn for all his dogs and cats that he can never pass up on taming. Flowers take up nearly every surrounding square of his house.

☽ He is almost offended when you tell him you can have a farm together and haven't been doing that in the first place! He'll be quick to get over it when you actually join and find him his first village. Every time he hears the villager noises he giggles and stomps his feet in glee. Prepared to be pestered almost constantly to play what is now his new favourite pastime and comfort, and given multiple stacks of flowers each time you log on. He even names his favourite chicken after you.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐦𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞

✦ Brahms hasn't played video games in a very long time, only being able to try them once when he went to a friend's house as a child, and even then the console was dated. Advertisements would sometimes come on the radio about new releases on a rare occasion, but otherwise, he wasn't too familiar with modern gaming.

✦ He has used a computer before, albeit rarely, as his parents kept one in a corner of the library. He wasn't sure what to do with it, but he could look at pictures if he got lonely. When you boot Minecraft onto it, he's more shocked that the old machine is capable of such a thing.

✦ Doesn't get off to a good start with the game. Brahms runs into a creeper almost immediately after spawning and is infuriated that you advertised this as a relaxing, fun, exploration and building game with minor death. He'll give it another go out of sheer stubbornness as opposed to actual enjoyment, which he will eventually get to.

✦ Finds his calling in building when he tries to recreate his entire mansion. His home is perfect as it is, why should he live somewhere else even in a game? His nemesis is still creepers after one blew up half his progress on the mansion, leading to him practically snarling the moment he hears a hiss.

✦ When you offer to do multiplayer with him, he all but demands you do every other job besides getting wood. Brahms expects you to get food, build a farm outside, mine for ores and fend off against creepers while he builds the house for you "both". Sometimes he won't even bother speaking to you, he'll just type in the chat his needs and look at you expectantly.

✦ It's not his favourite pass-time, but it's something new and lets him interact with you when you're apart. If he died on your last session, expect him to refuse anything to do with the game for a good week or two.

#rz michael myers #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer #brahms heelshire #minecraft #slashers #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #halloween #rz halloween #the boy #omiasks #omiwrites

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

Text

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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peakascum · 3 years

Text

On the Edge of Eden

@slither-in-a-half hope you like this love!

Click for song inspo! Moodboard?

His eyes traced your figure in a manner that could only be interpreted as boyish. His ears turned red, voice stammering with a little treble at the end, and his feet moved as if he were a newborn foal. He lacked confidence, his posture told you so- but could you blame the kid? You carried yourself with a graceful stance as if each wave and step were predetermined with consciousness and care. You were the talk of the gala, the name that slipped during tea time, the whispers that made it to the dirtiest corners of Small Heath. The youngest of the family, as was he. Common ground, he thought.

His feet carried him across the room, arms missing his aunt’s fingers by an inch and his brother’s angry whispers for him to stay put. They wouldn't care in a second, they would go back to their champagne and pretend that new money could buy them class and a new identity. He didn't think so or even care, not really; in fact, he didn't even try to hide his brummie accent or pretend to know which fork to use during dinner, even John struggled with that.

Your eyes had been trained on him for a while, being there to catch his missteps and the occasional excessive laugh he’d hand out before the punchline was delivered. You too were conditioned to laugh at such jokes. At the meaningless banter that resonated through parties between nobles and esteemed families who had always looked down upon new money, like the Shelbys, which set the tone for your dislike towards your kin. Your mother groomed you to be a proper lady, bred to breed the finest that England had to offer in order to purify your name and- what else? How vain.

The littlest Shelby had stammered his way through the entirety of the gala and held improper posture, which would only, and exclusively, be rectified when you tossed a wink or a silly face in his direction. It entirely went by his family’s head, but you did receive a proper kick to the shin from yours. It was just silly banter and perhaps a tad entertaining, much to his dismay, not in a way that would embarrass him completely, but just enough to taint his cheeks and further earn a glare from his siblings.

The sillines, although flustered him, spoke volumes as to who hid beneath the expensive jewels and stoic expression. A girl, just a girl, who was anything but proper in the most intriguing and tasteful way. And it was in that utter lack of propriety that ignited a fire in his new dress shoes and sent him treading in your direction.

He swiped two glasses from a nearby table and situated himself beside you. With a confident smirk he thrusted the glass in your direction, only slightly coating the floor beneath you, “A lady such as yourself shouldn't be drinking alone.”

“A lady wasn’t, you just offered me a glass.” Your brow quirked in his direction.

“Y-yes, you seemed- thirsty. Had two in hand and you, glassless, appeared- uh-“

Your grin widened and brows shot up to your hairline, “-Unsatisfied?”

“I was going to suggest bored, but unsatisfied works too.”

You giggled and took the glass from his hand, fingers grazing his smooth ones. You wondered just then how they would feel against your body and craved the touch of his fingertips, even just the the single caress of the tips, to edge across your face, to underline the blemishes that made up your young skin and maybe even leave a mark or two if they pressed hard enough against your hips.

“For someone who seems to have it all, ‘unsatisfied’ is an odd word to use.”

“How so?”

“You're dripping in diamonds and you seem to walk as if you’d ‘ave a gun to your head.” He said it mindlessly, unbothered even, by the mere thought that you would immediately leave after such a remark. That’s why he detested these things. Upper class women seemed to be put off by talks of guns and mud.

“Correct,” you hummed, “or a stick right up my arse.” His eyes darted to your face and then everywhere else to see if they heard. You just scanned the room. “My blood is blue and I shit diamonds, Mr. Shelby, doesn't mean I’m happy, or content, or-“

“-or satisfied.” He finished for you, staring intently at your profile. A small smile etched itself on your lips, “Or satisfied.”

“I’m Finn,” he said thrusting his hand in your direction, “Mr. Shelby is my brother.”

“Which one?”

“All- but really the one who does seem to have a whole tree branch up his arse.” This earned a whole hearted laugh from you, prompting a small chuckle from him. He made you laugh, genuinely. You turned in his direction and took his suspended hand in yours, and shook his hand with all the seriousness you could muster.

“Well Finnegan Shelby it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, how about we drop this act, ditch the snobs and you show me how Small Heath does it.”

You welcomed the cold slapping of the wind as you would a warm hug. For a second, stillness and crickets. For a second, wires turned in question as to where should you go from here. Glancing towards his moonlit face you let out a heavy breath and hastily took your heals off, making you a couple of inches shorter than you already were. Finn offered you his arm for balance as the other clutched a whisky bottle he managed to snatch from the bar. With heals in hand, you raced through the filled and into the night.

The skip in your step created a soothing rhythm with the howling wind, a melody you could get used to, one you prayed would come as often as life would allow it.

You lay on the ground surrounded by ramsons that had just started to bloom as Finn sat by your side, bending down ever so slightly to better view your features. Your hands nervously touched the diamond clad necklace that adorned your neck as you felt his eyes scan yours. For a girl whose entire life was spent under attentive eyes, his were the only ones to bring a jolt to your chest and an exuberant vitality to your entire being.

“Watchful eyes you’ve got there.” His gaze shifted a little, as they did whenever you caught him watching.

“I can’t help myself.”

You cocked your head to the side and eyed him steadily, “Are you staring at my diamonds, Shelby? How pretty they shine under this light?”

“Shining rocks got nothing on you, love.”

“How flattering.” You scoffed.

“You sound offended.”

“I despise lies, half truths. Men think that’s all that women want to hear. And some do, some eat it up and out of their hands as if they could never eat from their own.”

“You seem to take great interest in other’s concerns,” he said as you shook your head, “in matters and thoughts that imply your worth”

“I care not! I- I do not. It’s just a pity women are eyed like cattle and assumed to be foolish and of fallen grace!” You said, now agitated. Finn fancied the dark glow that came from your eyes, knowing he hit a nerve. You sat upright unlocking the necklace’s hatch at the back of your neck. The rocks hit the limestone floor with a small thud no louder than that of a bird’s wings, and created a shimmering glare that adorned your face like small, expensive teardrops.

“Your fit won’t change my mind if that’s what you're aiming at,” he provoked. You stood up with furrowed brows and hastily undid the back of your dress. His posture remained stoic but eyes widened in concern of your hurried movements.

“What’s the matter Finn, aren’t women more rabid than men?” You chuckled as the dress slid under the curve of your breasts, past your belly, and further pooled by your shoeless feet. Finn visibly gulped at the sight of your body in the delicate, silk slip. You stood proudly like a painting, a muse, waiting to be challenged and admired for his eyes, and only his.

His head turned towards the house, which was only a dot in the mere distance, swallowed by music and acres of field. You stepped towards him towering over his sitting frame, took his hands in yours and placed them on your thighs, just below the seam of the slip. His cheeks turned a deep crimson that reminded you of the red pygmies that swam in the pond near your feet. “Suddenly at a loss for words, Shelby?”

He got up clumsily and towered over your body. Hands blended together in a pool of questions that should not and could not be answered with words, but with the mere touch of light grazes against his skin. How did he ever muster the courage to approach such a creature full of such beauty, whose aggressive approach to life had to be masked by the authoritarian glare of wealth and class.

He knew where this was headed by your hurried kisses and the race of both hands. He halted your movements causing you to peer at him in a daze. “It’s not a race Y/N,” he said in a hushed manner.

“What’s the difference? You want me, you'll have me, and then leave,” you spat.

“I want you, I’ll have you, and I’ll be back for more of you,” he paused to kiss your swollen lips, “for this,” he traced his lips over her breasts, “for more nights,” lips trailed to your belly, “no champagne, no diamonds. Just give up control, for once.”

Your head tilted back as he nuzzled his head between your legs. His hands grazed the curves of your thighs while the wind nipped at your cheeks and flowers tickled your shins. The stars winked as the sky seemed to open up, all witnessing the spectacle that was just commencing. An exciting origin to an undoubtedly sublime love story.

His soft fingers gripped your leg as he swung it over his shoulder, just as you imagined when you first accepted the glass in your empty glassless ones.

Your sighs of pleasure mixed with his groans as he savored your juices, drinking you up like expensive cabernet. His tongue grazing the inside of your walls, kissing and nipping your bundle of pleasure, humming at your whines and muttering small praises full of lust and adoration. A garden of sinful pleasure built for the two.

*BONUS SCENE*

In the distance Tommy and Arthur stepped out into the balcony to get some air, the room suddenly seeming stuffed with snobs and meaningless conversation. They shared a cigarette and nursed their drinks, for a moment appreciating the quietness that spring brought every year. As Tommy dragged on about titles and politics, Arthur fixed his eyes in the distance, squinting and questioning if his mind was finally going mad.

“Tom?” He stuttered. His brother held a hand up, “I know it’s the same shit with Mosely. Like a fuckin’ riddle-“

“Tom,” Arthur interrupted again, eyes widening as he stared at the distance.

“No, it is! But if we ever catch-“

“Jesus fuck Tom, shut the hell up ‘bout the coppers and the bloody earls!” He said agitated. Tommy swirled his head to look at his brother’s rigid body. Arthur pointed into the distance, “There, Tom. There. By the tree, over the pond.”

Tommy followed his finger, having to squint his eyes to see the clear image.

“Fucken’ hell is that-“

“Fucken’ Finn!” Arthur cackled, choking on his own spit in the process.

Tommy’s jaw slacked in complete and utter shock, “This fuckin’ kid I swear to God,” he muttered under his breath. Brow furrowing as his eyes scanned the property, suddenly worried that his brother’s laughter would attract attention to the scene that unfolded before them in the mere distance. “All right, all right Arthur- fuck,” he said as a small smirk formed on his stoic face.

“Tom I can’t breath, I mean this is-“ Arthur howled, “this is almost fuckin’ biblical!”

“Arthur shh, okay okay just don’t-“

“Fuckin’ Adam and Eve shit Tom!”

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders tommy #finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby imagine #finn shelby x reader #peakascum #finn shelby au #finn shelby one shot #peaky blinders one shot

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onlydreamofmysoul · 3 years

Text

Cardigan (Wolfstar)

I sat down to write a teeny drabble with two lines from the song Cardigan by Taylor Swift. It quickly spiralled into this. (I really love it though).

Set in the cannon universe, cw for mentions of death, injuries and scars. (Nothing graphic though).

I knew you, dancing in your Levi’s drunk under a streetlight.

“Shh! Pads. you’re gonna get us caught!” Remus half-whispered, his own voice a tad too loud for his own liking but his slightly tipsy state didn’t allow for a lower volume. Sirius spun into him smushing his fingers right up against Remus’ lips, both of them chest to chest under James’ cloak. It was hard to believe the four of them mused to fit under this - now it only just about covered Remus and Sirius even with Remus ducking down to Sirius’ height.

“Come on Moony, you’re ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’,” He said, punctuating each word of the grand title with his index finger poking into Remus; chest. “Even if we do get caught, you can charm our way out of it.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but followed. The passage was dim and the ground was uneven and to be perfectly honest, they hadn’t yet discovered if this particular passage way had been caved in since they last explored it the previous year, but Sirius seemed sure of himself and that was enough for Remus. If Sirius was the one leading, he’d always follow.

“Alright, but I’m late on a transfiguration essay, so if Minnie catches us, you’re on your own. I need to save my charm for that.” He said, his tone stern, but all his reserve melted when Sirius smiled up at him and pressed a victorious kiss to his cheek.

“I take back your title.” Sirius said dramatically, looking at Remus with a smug righteousness. “Apparently ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’ isn’t so perfect after all.”

He pressed his mouth right up next to Remus’ ear just as they stepped out the little secret entrance, ducking under the ivy trellis that hid their little passageway. “It’s a good thing I like bad boys.” Sirius breathed, and Remus couldn’t wait any more, not caring whether the cloak revealed their ankles or not when he pulled Sirius in for a blazing kiss.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

Sirius smirked and kissed him again. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

Remus laughed and took off walking again, tugging the cloak off as soon as they were far enough away from the school, catching hands and spinning under the soft glow of the lamplights illuminating the path to Hogsmeade. Sirius tilted his head back, still spinning, their hands acting as the axis that centred the entire universe.

“I love you too.”

I knew you, hands under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better.

“Sirius, if you don’t start being more careful, I’m gonna-”

“What?” Sirius teased, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, looking far too haughty for a man sitting on a countertop, his legs dangling in the air. “What’re you gonna do Re? You gonna punish me?”

Remus pursed his lips to try hide his smile, but gave in, kissing Sirius once briefly.

“No,” He said, pulling up Sirius’ jumper to get a proper look at the gash he had acquired after climbing a tree. Then subsequently falling out of said tree. “But I will send you to Madam Pomfrey and have you try to explain to her that you thought you’d be able to pull off a levitation charm if there was a ‘more extreme sense of urgency’.” He finished, mocking Sirius’ words from earlier.

Sirius just scrunched up his face playfully in retaliation, before breathing in shakily as Remus coated the cut with a liberal amount of salve, watching in fascination as the skin knitted back together.

“There.” He said, straightening up to stand between Sirius’ legs, pulling down his jumper again. “Good as new.”

“Nah ah.” Sirius countered, shaking his head as his legs locked behind Remus’ back, binding them together. “Gotta kiss it better.”

Remus wet his lips, shaking his head in fond disbelief, but leaned in willingly, feeling the hot slide of Sirius’ mouth against his own cooler one.

“All better?” Remus asked, panting slightly as they rested their foreheads together.

Sirius shrugged, hooking his arm more firmly around Remus’ neck. “Close, but not quite better yet.”

Remus huffed a laugh through his nose, but gladly locked their lips together again, the pair fully intertwined as if they had been made for each other.

(And maybe they had. For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite.

“Sirius?” Re said softly, pushing the door to their dorm open slowly. “Are you here?”

“Yeah,” Came a muffled reply. “I’m here.”

Remus stepped into the room, looking first to Sirius’ bed to find it empty. Remus frowned, looking around to find Sirius curled up on Remus’ own bed, his favourite cardigan folded gently around him.

“Hi sweetheart,” Remus said, voice hushed as he climbed onto the bed next to the other boy, noting the red stained eyes and puffed lips. “What do you need?”

At the words, anything that seemed to be holding Sirius together until that point shattered, the raven haired boy collapsing into Sirius’ arms.

“Re,” He gasped, between his sobs as Remus just pulled him closer. “Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Isn’t love supposed to be good? If it’s so great, then why the fuck does it hurt so much?”

Remus’ heart clenched. Regulus.

“I don’t know sweetheart,” He murmured, holding Sirius close. “But it makes us who we are.” He cupped Sirius’ face so he could meet the raging stormy eyes. “It’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all.”

Sirius just blinked at him.

“But for the record,” Remus said, touching their heads together. “I don’t think you’ve lost him. He’s just lost right now. But he’ll find his way back to you.”

Sirius nodded, and slumped against Remus’ chest, no longer crying, just breathing deeply.

“You know Remus Lupin,” He whispered after a while. “I don’t care how long it takes, but I’m gonna marry you someday.”

To kiss in cars, and downtown bars, was all we needed.

“Oh Merlin, they’re snogging again.” Peter commented as he turned his head to spot James and Lily, leaning in for a kiss. Remus, currently with his tongue in Sirius’ mouth heard this, but let Peter discover the other couple in his own time.

“Christ, the pair of you are too. You’re all fuckin at it.” He grumbled. If Remus’ mouth wasn’t already a little preoccupied, he would have laughed. There it was.

“Right, I’m off to find humans capable of holding decent conversation.” Peter muttered and he might have left. He could have stayed and done a jig on the table for all Remus cared, but in this moment, he noticed none of it. What was the poem he had read somewhere? Stars and moths and rinds slanting around fruit. This moment.

You drew stars around my scars and now I’m bleeding.

“Hey, look at this.” Sirius said somewhat excitedly, rolling away from Remus momentarily and returning with a quill and a jar of ink.

Remus eyed him skeptically, his arm tucked under his head as they lounged on his bed, the curtains drawn to create the illusion of their own little oasis.

“I bet I could draw stars on your chest and then your scars could connect them, like in astronomy.”

Remus bit his lip, looking at Sirius’ appraised expression. “I feel like I should say no,” He said slowly, even as he unscrewed the ink. “But go for it.”

Sirius grinned triumphantly and studied Remus for a minute, brushing the quill over his lips as he concentrated. Remus couldn’t help but muse that if Sirius put half as much effort into his schoolwork as he was doing here, he would be top of the class. Finally, Sirius ditched the quill, dipping a finger into the ink directly.

“I don’t want the point of the quill to scratch you.” He explained, after noticing Remus’ raised eyebrow. Something warmed inside Remus’ chest while something cold trickled over the outside. Remus closed his eyes and let himself focus on the slightly ticklish, but mostly soothing sensation of Sirius tracing patterns over his skin.

“Done.” Sirius muttered after a while and Remus opened his eyes, raising his head a little to peer down at himself. He looked like some abstract piece of art, covered in black and blue and red and green, scars shining silver between it all.

“Woah,” He breathed, “That’s pretty cool.”

Sirius grinned, then pointed to a star just over Remus; appendix. “That’s Sirius right there.”

Remus hummed, pursing his lips together, then grabbed a jar of ink, tracing a star a little messily, right over his heart.

“Nah,” He countered, “Sirius is there.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but came up to press their lips together. In the morning, they both looked like works of art.

But I knew you, stepping on the last train, marked me like a blood stain.

“I can’t believe this is the last time we’ll be taking this train.” James said, the four of them standing in a row on the platform, not yet ready to get on.

“We’ll be back.” Remus said. “Someday, we’ll be back.”

Sirius linked their fingers together. As one, the marauders stepped onto the train.

Mischief Managed.

I knew you, tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.

Remus just stared at the auror.

“Mr Lupin,” The man said gently, playing his hand tenderly on Remus’ arm. Remus didn’t know what his name was. It was probable the man had said it but Remus wasn’t listening. Everything had gone dark. “I realise this must come as a shock.”

Remus wrenched his arm back, shaking his head. “A shock?” He laughed a little manically. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Mr Lupin, we have evidence that Sirius Black was the one to-”

“Well you’re wrong!” Remus yelled. Or maybe he had whispered. It was possible he hadn’t even spoken at all, but the words swirled around and around in his head. “I don’t know how, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong, this isn’t right, you have it all wrong, he would never-”

Remus gasped, pressing a hand to his cracking heart as if it would hold him together. “He would never.” He repeated, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. When they had gotten there, he didn’t know, but their presence was suddenly noticeable with the cold rush against Remus’ skin.

“I’m so sorry.” The auror said and then he was gone. And Remus was alone.

Had it always been this way? Remus alone. Remus with friends. Remus with Sirius. Remus alone.

Maybe he had made the entire thing up.

But dreams didn’t leave you feeling like the last kiss you’d ever had was from a dementor, not your true love.

It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. He had said that to Sirius once.

What a fool he had been.

I knew you, leaving like a father, running like water, when you are young they assume you know nothing.

“It is believed this was a plan Mr Black had been staging for quite some time now.” A newspaper read. Remus snorted and threw it in the fire. Sirius couldn’t even plan a week in advance. What they fuck did these people know.

But then, what did Remus know? His love was long lost, Rapunzel in a tower. Remus was no knight.

But he knew in his heart, none of this was true. He knew. He didn't care what anyone else said, they may have known his thoughts, but Remus knew his heart.

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss.

Sirius’ leather jacket still hung in the cupboard under the stairs. His hair potion, still in the shower. Remus couldn’t bear to see them. He could never throw them away.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s.

Remus should have fought harder for Harry.

He should have, he should have, he should have, he should have.

He should have known better.

What if.

A smirking smile and stormy eyes. Hair held up with a wand. Those same dark strands coiled around Remus’ fingers.

The smell of smoke would hang around this long. Cause I knew everything when I was young.

Remus woke up to James’ scream. Except it couldn’t be James. Unless… Had this all been a dream?

James opened his eyes and suddenly there was Lily. Lily and James and they didn’t know who Remus was.

(Remus had been the first one to hold baby Harry. Before even Sirius. And now he didn’t even know him)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time.

Remus hated Sirius. Not for being the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. But for leaving him alone.

Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Remus wanted to laugh. His question to Sirius now would be this; Why couldn’t he stop loving someone he should hate.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line.

The students all murmured about the Grimm. The paintings gossiped about little else. Even the staff room had a few words on the subject matter. Remus tried not to let his heart flutter.

(But his boy was free. And there was a grim on the loose).

I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.

Walking down to Hagrid's hut, Remus thought he saw something rustle in the bushes. He stepped off the path and looked closer, barely even breathing as his heart thundered, but the shadows that had lurked were gone.

And you’d be standing in my front porch light.

“Lie low at Lupins.”

For the first time in twelve years, amber met grey.

“Re,” Sirius croaked, and Remus shattered. He pulled Sirius inside the door quickly, shutting it and reinforcing all of the charms around his little cottage, drawing all the blinds shut and placing a charm around the area so he would know if anyone approached the house before he finally turned, and there he was.

And I knew you’d come back to me.

Not Mass Murderer Sirius Black.

Not even Padfoot.

But Sirius. Remus’ Sirius.

“Re,” Sirius said again, “It’s not true, it’s not true.” He said, repeating the words as he shook his head, eyes filling. “It’s not true, I would never.”

He would never.

Remus shook his head too, pulling Sirius into the tightest hug they ever might have shared.

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

You’d come back to me.

Sirius after a few weeks of good food and warmth looked a lot more like the boy Remus had once known, but there was no denying the person with his was now a man. Remus supposed they both were.

You’d come back.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered one night as they were curled under a blanket, Remus reading as Sirius lay on his chest, the position comforting and oh so familiar.

“Do you think you could ever love me again?”

Remus’ heart cracked as he set down his book and curled his fingers gently around Sirius’ jaw, tilting his head so Remus could look into that swirling sea.

“Love you again?” He said, his voice nearly cracking in disbelief. “Pads, how could I love you again when I never stopped?”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite.

“I can’t believe you still have this.” Sirius whispered, pulling the same cardigan he always stole out of the back of Remus’ drawer.

“It used to smell like you.” Remus admitted. “But I wore it too much, I missed you too much.”

Sirius smiled, shrugging it on, it curling around his shoulders the way he curled into Remus, tilting his head up and pressing his lips against Remus’.

“I can fix that.” He whispered and Remus held him close, taking his time.

(For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

#wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #wolfstar oneshot #Marauders #marauders era fanfiction #cannon compliant #wolfstar fic #James Potter #peter pettigrew #Lily Evans #harry potter #cardigan taylor swift #ao3 OpeningMyEyes #wolfstar angst

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throughtheinterstices · 3 years

Text

massive and small stars

❝ you were a massive star destined to burn for a few hundred thousand years, culminating in an inevitable explosion. kuroo tetsuro was the sun, a small star, bound to give light for several billion years. the difference between the two of you makes you ask him how he manages to keep his light. ❞

pairing. kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre. college au where you and kuroo are apartment neighbors, implied comfort

word count. 1.7k words

warnings. themes of burnout due to the pandemic

a/n. reblogs are very much appreciated. i’d be happy to hear your thoughts too.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3

You are by no means an astronomer. You are studying to become a physician. You are a hundred and ten percent certain of this fact. But as you lie limp atop your unmade bed, your mind can’t help but ponder on stars, how they are made, and how they die.

The lifetime of stars depends on their size. Massive stars exhaust their energy much faster and are only able to last for a few hundred millennia. Small stars, on the other hand, burn slowly, allowing them to exist for several billion years.

You have always been told that you were destined to be a star, to burn brighter above everyone else. You are fated for brilliance, they said. All your life, you are convinced by their words.

Entering college, you believe it is your time to shine. Your days in the dust are long gone. All the ashes and gas are finally going to pool together as the enormous celestial body everybody expected you to be. You are finally away from the drama of high school. You’re supposed to be joining organizations, getting good grades, making lots of friends, and living.

You were supposed to be doing all of that. You were finally safely moved into your one-bedroom apartment near a prestigious university in Tokyo, aching for all of it.

Then the pandemic hit. The club fairs turned into online zoom meetings. The good grades turned into just-above-the-passing-rate marks. Those friends turned into monotonous group chats about academic requirements. Living turned into surviving.

You are destined to be a star, they said. Indeed, you feel like a massive star. You expected too much, gathered too many particles from the universe, that you ended up an immense ball of burning gas about to explode in the near future. You are so close to wearing yourself out. You try everything to avoid it.

You turn up the volume of your favorite songs because maybe it will drown the negative voices in your head.

You bathe yourself in sunlight because maybe it will overpower the darkness slowly wrapping itself around you.

You soak yourself under the shower for hours because maybe it will wash away the dread and anxiety.

You laugh humorlessly.

As if.

As much as you were predetermined for greatness, you are designed for destruction as well.

You look at the time. 5:11 PM.

There’s still time before he comes. You can still take a nap. You’ve been a light sleeper for the past few months anyway. You’ll hear him knock.

The knock comes two hours later, 7:00 PM sharp.

“Good evening,” Kuroo Tetsuro says.

You mimic his greeting weakly.

Kuroo Tetsuro is your university apartment neighbor. You became friends a month into the pandemic, when he came to your rescue after you almost burned down your apartment (you left the stove on while you were in the shower). Since then, the two of you had formed an unusual partnership. He was in-charge of half of the groceries and cooking the main course. You were in-charge of the other half of the groceries and preparing dessert. You took turns with the dishes.

You’re grateful for his companionship. Somehow, being able to interact with another person face-to-face lessens the gravity of the whole situation.

Today, the weight is just a tad bit heavier for you. You barely have the energy to contribute to the dinner table conversation. You just nod along and give a few replies here and there.

After catching his fingers lingering on his phone and after noticing his sensitivity toward notification sounds, you sense that the weight is heavier for him too.

“Expecting a call?” you ask, getting a bite of tonkatsu.

“Hoping for one,” Kuroo answers, picking at his own food.

“She cut the call short again?” Whether it was his mother or his sister, you don’t bother asking. It was always between the two of them anyway.

“Didn’t even bother answering,” he says. That explains it.

You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”

He scoffs. “’S not your fault.”

You know that. Still, you wanted to help him.

There was only one thing you can think of at the moment.

“Dessert?” you offer.

His face lights up a bit. “Yes please.”

You give him a small smile and stand up to reach for the newly-bought mochi.

The days after, you still feel the looming sense of your inevitable combustion. Exams were still difficult. Readings were still extensive. Social interactions were still monotonously online. Club participation was still nonexistent.

You turn the volume of your music a little higher. You stay under the sun a little longer. You soak under the shower head a few minutes more.

Yet, you still end up on your bed, drained. Nothing’s changed.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is him.

Seven o’clock sharp, he’s there, knocking on your door (tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap—a unique pattern he uses every time). He still cooks you dinner. He still talks to you about his day. You never see the light leave his eyes.

Kuroo Tetsuro was a star by his own right. He was the sun, bright and warm. You are always sure of his presence. You sense the remnants of his radiance the night before in the early morning just as you wake up. You hear the warmth in his boisterous laughter through the thin walls of your apartment. You feel his blazing passion for the sport that he loves when the sound of rubber on skin hits your ears (or sometimes it’s the sound of things getting broken).

Kuroo was the sun, a small star. Small stars don’t go as loudly as massive stars do, and they stay around for much longer. But they still cease to burn once they exhaust their fuel.

You wonder, sometimes, how Kuroo manages to keep his light burning.

There are days that the darkness creeps into his being. You’ve seen it. On days when the knock on your door isn’t as loud and lively, when his hands aren’t as nimble in slicing onions, when his laugh doesn’t ring the right way. And you know that the sun, like massive stars, like all stars, will collapse.

But he doesn’t.

He still calls his mother and sister relentlessly, trying to rekindle what was once there. Despite the social barriers that the pandemic has built, you can hear him still laughing loudly with his friends on video calls. Despite the halt in sports activities, he keeps his love for volleyball burning.

It makes you rethink whether he is a star in the first place. Something as brilliant as he is, who manages to burn bright despite everything, is something out of this world.

You ask him one day.

On this particular day, he shows you a meme, “Are medical students who graduated online called google docs?”

You give a skeptical look at the idiot who was hysterically cackling himself to death.

“Why do you laugh at this as if it’s going to solve all of your problems?” you ask him.

The premise is anything but serious. Yet, you feel like he knows what you’re talking about.

Kuroo tries to regain some composure.

“It won’t,” he says, moving a hand across his all-time bedhead. “But hey, at least even with all my problems, I was able to laugh, right?”

Huh.

You stare at him, as if seeing the sun for the first time in a long while.

The next day is still loaded with tests and homework. You still feel dumb. You still have no friends and no clubs. You still turn up the music. You still linger under the sunlight a little while longer. Your time in the shower is still a bit lengthier.

This time, you allow these things to make you smile.

Six fifty-nine—you are by the door, waiting.

Tap, tap—

You open the door before he finishes knocking.

“Good evening,” you greet first.

“Good evening,” he says, a bit taken back.

You hum your favorite song as he cooks sanma shio yaki (which you know is his favorite) and talks about his day.

Later, when you are preparing dessert, he asks, “Did anything good happen today?”

You think about it. “Hmm… Nothing in particular. Why?”

“I just… haven’t seen that smile in a while.”

Your fingers stop cutting midway across the strawberry shortcake you bought two hours before.

“Hmm?” You glance at him in your periphery.

“Yeah. It looks pretty.”

You take a sharp breath in.

You sense him take in his words as well.

You slowly turn your head back. As you expect, Kuroo Tetsurou has his hands scratching the back of his neck, trying to avoid your gaze.

Well, I’m not going to be the uncomfortable one here.

You allow yourself to tease him. “I do look pretty, don’t I?”

He glares at you. “As if!” But you see his ears flush pink.

You return to the strawberry shortcake that you were cutting.

You feel the edges of your lips inching their way closer to your eyes.

It’s been a while since you felt this way—this light. At the back of your mind, there were still essays to write, exams to study for, professors to impress, parents to make proud, and yourself to fix. The problems will never disappear.

And it’s not as if louder music, stronger sunlight, more bath water, and cornier jokes of the guy behind you could solve all of them.

But maybe if they can make you smile despite all the problems, then maybe… maybe you’re going to be okay.

Whether you are a massive star or whether Kuroo Tetsuro was the sun, you don’t know for sure.

You are by no means an astronomer. You are studying to become a physician. Instead of concerning yourself with celestial bodies, you should be concerning yourself with the human body.

From all the things that you were taught in medical school, this is something you know by heart: humans are made of the same elements as the stars are.

They are the same, yet they are different. Stars burn bright. And borrowing Guy Consolmagno’s words, they will end “either in a bang or in a whimper.”

Humans are different. They can burn unyieldingly without ceasing. Kuroo Tetsuro has proven that to you.

At present, that is all the reassurance that you need.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3 LINK

#haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x you #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu college au #kuroo fic #kuroo #haikyuu x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro fic #massive and small stars #through the sunlight

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spices-and-cherries · 3 years

Text

Faster Than a Kitten on Parade (Benoit Blanc x Reader)

Okay, not to toot my own horn, but this is actually kind of good? Like I’m kinda proud of myself... I spent a large amount of time trying to figure out southern accents and their corresponding regions that I kinda gave up and said Mississippi. Louisiana is another safe bet? Anyway, to all Bostonians reading this, I’m sorry. I wrote what I wrote for the sake of plot.

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: brief description of near car accident and reckless driving

***This is pure fluff with not even a hint of angst***

Every day you take the bus to and from work. While it’s thankfully a straight shot from where you live, Boston’s public transportation leaves much to be desired. The buses rarely run on time, the traffic is miserable, and in the winter it’s living hell. Snowy, cold, wet... It makes you wonder what made you think of moving away from your hometown to this. Was the career move really worth it? Yes.

But that doesn’t mean that your commute lacks any perks. The bus stop you wait at in the morning is right outside a coffee shop, people keep to themselves (unless there’s a game coming up), and it provides you with the time you need to reflect on the day. Most of all, however, is the new guy.

One of the things that comes with riding the same bus everyday is that you tend to ride with the same people as well. So of course your curiosity is piqued when you first saw him. Everything about him seemed so different from the usual folk you see walking around Boston: kind, gentlemanly, smart...

That being said, you have yet to actually meet him...

Normally, that would be completely fine, but you have to admit something’s going on when a fellow commuter has continued to make your day more than several days in a row. Was it his smile? The way he holds himself? That time he gave up his seat for an older lady? Is it just because he’s so clearly not from Boston?

You’ve been trying to build up enough confidence to actually say something - literally anything - but you always chicken out. The first time it was because he was reading a book and you didn’t want to disturb him. The second was because he was standing barely a foot away from your seat and you blanked because that ass. The third and fourth (and admittedly fifth) time ended in a similar fashion.

That is until one glorious and blessed day.

It was snowing hard, but as usual, the city chugged along without a care. So, you had left your apartment with several layers of sweaters and more handwarmers than you could count (That’s a lie. You were carrying ten.). The bus was unusually full and by the time his stop came around, there weren’t a lot of seats left.

Did you forget to breath when you watched him look at the seat next to you?

Were your hands getting sweaty even though that shouldn’t be possible considering the temperature?

Was your heart running faster than a kitten on parade?

Yes, yes, and yes.

“May I take this seat?” His accent somehow prevented you from speaking so you just nodded and smiled. “Thank you kindly.” You shift slightly to give him some space and to try and get rid of sudden spike in adrenaline that his unexpected (and totally welcomed) accent caused...

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, trying really hard to not look weird or creepy. He has on this grey pea coat and a deep maroon colored scarf. His blue suit pants stretch just a tad over what looked to be some muscle. And his aftershave...is amazing to say the least. But all these fine details aren’t what really catch your eye. For what ever reason, this man has no gloves on. His finger tips are turning purple! Hurriedly, you look in your work bag for one of your spare handwarmers. You find it at the bottom, still in it’s packaging.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have gloves...” You hand it to him. He looks at you with surprise.

“Oh, no...! I couldn’t possibly...” His voice sounds like honey...

“I insist. I buy so many, I won’t miss one.” You push it into his hands.

“That’s mighty kind of you.” He smiles again. It’s very soft. Like marshmallow clouds kind of soft.

“Oh, not at all!” And in that moment, you did something very daring: you introduced yourself. “Um, I’m (Y/N) (L/N), by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. (L/N). I’m Benoit Blanc, but please, call me Blanc.” He offers to shake your hand and you take it. You can feel how cold his hands are through your gloves, but it barely even registers. You’re far too busy trying to memorize his name.

Benoit Blanc.

“Is that French?” Oh. My. God. Really?

“Yes.” He chuckled a little. One side of his mouth went up, scrunching that side of his face. It was a hella cute scrunching. “On my father’s side. Immigrated several generations back.”

“I was gonna say that you don’t really look French...”

“I take after my mother.”

“Ah. That explains it.” You smile, genuinely amused. “Sothen, where are you really from then?”

“A small town in Mississippi. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Yeah, probably not.” You nod slightly. “I bet that it’s super different than here.”

“Heh, yeah it is.” Mr. Blanc holds the handwarmer up for a second as emphasis.

“I, uh, I’m from (hometown) - (region) - so I know where you’re coming from. Boston sure is something else, isn’t it?”

“Never have I ever - and I mean ever - been in a town as - as - as unique unto itself as Boston!” A few people look up. You don’t care. You had no idea that a man of his age could look so cute. “Apologies.” He lowers the volume of his voice - not that he really needed to. “Now, comin’ from the South, I’ve had my fair share of human nature, but the drivers here are a whole ‘nother species. It’s like the jungle out there.”

“Did you ever make the mistake of taking a taxi when you first came here?”

“Much to my chagrin, yes, yes I have.” He shakes his head disapprovingly, but you can see a little twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Not too long ago, in fact. The man was speakin’ on the phone and nearly drove us off a bridge... Nearly had a conniption of the heart.”

“That is pretty bad. In my first ride I was this close-” You bring up your thumb and pointer finger, the pads barely a millimeter apart. “-to getting run over by a cement truck because the driver ran a red light. He got mad at me too ‘cause I didn’t tip him.”

“Good lord, that is quite the experience...” His brow furrowed slightly.

“I saw my life go past my eyes.” You say dramatically. “But hey, that’s Boston.” You sigh heavily. “Anyway, how long have you lived in the city?”

“Jus’ a couple of months.” Aha. Just around the time he first started taking the bus... “Yourself?”

“A couple of years. I feel more and more like a true Bostonian every day that passes.” You chuckle. “The plus side though, is that I can show you where all the good food is. I can be your personal tour guide!” It takes a couple of milliseconds for your brain to register what you had just said. “Well, if you’d like that... The offer, uh, stands?” What are you talking about?

“I think I jus’ might take you up on that, if you wouldn’t mind.” This man. Bless this beautiful man. God, that smile. “That bein’ said, I do believe this is my stop.”

“Already? Time flies when you’re having fun.” You smile.

“Yes it does. It was a pleasure meetin’ you, Mx. (L/N),” He stands up. “And thank you very much for your kindness.” He waves the handwarmer a little.

“You can call me (Y/N) and you are very welcome.”

“Then call me Benoit, if you please. Now you have yourself a good day.” He smiles, waves a little, and hurries off the bus. And just like that, your whole year has just been made.

Did you pass your stop a while ago?

Were you smiling like an absolute idiot anyway?

Was your heart running faster than a kitten on parade?

Yes, yes, and yes.

I hope you all like this! I had so much fun writing it and it just flowed out of me. Side note, the title is inspired by Trixie Mattel’s song, Gold. She’s a country singer, but it’s actually good, so check it out! If you have any constructive criticism or requests, please let me know! I am also a big fan of comments - they make my week every time! See you all in the next one! - Simpy

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