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beann-e · 3 years

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hi I was on u-tube and saw a bakugou playlist for when he can’t sleep and I thought well , since I just hit 200 followers ( tysm;3 I love everyone who even took the time out of their day to press follow ) why not bring them this idea of y/n not being able to sleep & bakubabe lending his beautifully different services

also abt the sero line I have in here— I personally think it’d be cool if he just learned Spanish because, he has an interest in other cultures and languages but I don’t really see him being actually hispanic

also I really like writing baku bc he’s so rough with everything he says & I kin him so he’s the easiest so, I hope no one thinks I write him too much

Reader with bad mental health & bakugou lends a hand in his own way

No one cares and no one ever asks. Or at least that’s how you felt while standing here in your last period class your hands balled up in fist tightly held at your chest

Your head was pounding and body was aching you couldn’t describe why you were feeling so horrible all of a sudden but

you just were

maybe it was from all the nights you couldn’t fall aleep due to overthinking

maybe it was the way you got stuck on your phone or even your head dropped low eyes trailing over words in a book just trying to find something to take your mind off the fact that you were struggling

whatever the case was

right now in this last period class this wasn’t helping

“ look shitty woman “ you heard the boy huff “ I want to get a good score on this paired project and right now your fucking this up for me “

his anger was visibly present even if his voice was low to where only you could hear the annoyance that sat in it had everyone looking around for the culprit of the sudden change in the air

“ and I don’t like fuckups so get whatever you have going on together and let’s do this —ok? “

you shook your head and let out a soft ‘ok ‘

the fight ending quickly with bakugou staring down on you his hands on his knees face made up in anger “ you keep finding a way to fuck with me “

“ I didn’t even do anything to you “ your voice was soft and tired

his eyes squinting before sighing

“ I didn’t do anything to anyone “

“ cut this shit out right now “ he pulled you up off the ground hands in fists gripping at your shirt standing you up with his muscles alone “ get to your room — sleep off whatever the fucks going on with you “

His eyes dead set on you as you walked off everyone from the class watching as you failed to gain the strength to open the big doors that led you to your shared dorms

“ sero plea— “

“ got it hermosa “

“ really dude “

“ look it’s hot — and just cause we’re in japan doesn’t mean I can’t show off my online spanish lessons “

“ whatever “ denkis voice whined as he shook his head holding the other door open for you “ gonna get some sleep y/n ? “

you ignored the two boys head hung low as you walked to your room door

the strength appearing in your body as you opened it but, quickly dispersing when you found your bed.

Your face hitting your favorite pillow hand coming up to cradle underneath it as you sat on your knees butt high in the air tears coming out pouring into your blankets “ I won’t show — I won’t show it — I won’t get bad again “ you repeated like a chant

The light from outside disappearing as the day grew into night

several footsteps heard departing from your door when you didn’t answer the knocks . Their low calls of dinner was done , lunch was in the microwave , that you’d missed movie time , that you missed denkis attempt of asking jirou out , and todorokis miss understood question of what ‘ cuddles ‘ were when denki offered her his body to do so

“ and you assholes didn’t just think to open the door? ”

your bedroom door swinging open in a crash as the knob hit the wall behind it creating a hole

“ fucking assholes bothering me with this shit “

“ we didn’t even call you out of your room “

“ you came over to her room on your ow— “

bakugous hand moved swiftly to slam the door in their faces

“ bakubro we’ve been trying to get in there all day and your just—“

“ gonna close the door on us “ denki finished in annoyance “ seriously I just know y/n needs my charm right now “

he pouted behind the door “ it always cheers her up and I like her lau— “

“ didn’t ask to hear your fucking crush story charger base “

“ ass — kiri let’s go “

“ so no sleepy boob pics?“

bakugou stiffened hearing the purples freaks voice

“ so I came with you guys because you said she was sad and usually when girls are sad they don’t dres— “

bakugous voice was guttural as he put his forehead to the door voice loud enough for the boy to hear

“ hey — hey purple nurple “

“ I-uh — yes bakugou “

“ come here “ he could hear the small shuffle of feet to the door as he smirked softly

“ put your tiny head to the door — actually press your whole body up to the door —all the way “

“ are you trying to help me get one of y/n’s bras god —- of all people to help I never thought it’d be bakugo—“

“ hey just shh ok — you don’t want to ruin it right and make her wake up right “ he groaned inside his mind

“ she’s slept this long and through all of this— I can’t get you her bra if your loud right purple zit “

“ so so smart “

“ ok so here it is “

the room grew silent as bakugou pressed his palm as low as he could placing it on the door away from his standing body breathing in to suppress his anger so , he didn’t let out a major blast due to his mood

sighing before he felt his hand grow sweaty tiny pops coming out

“ hey bakugou —is my princess ok ? sounds like popcorn in there are her tit—“

it was quick as the door had a hole in it the newly created circle having black burn scratches on it as mineta laid burnt on the floor once purple body now black and smoke wafting off it

Bakugou squatting as he put his left hand above the hole to steady himself and his right one reaching out through it as he grimaced in pain at the stretch his fingers finally wrapping around minetas short body fingers interlocking around his neck as he looked through the new hole in the door eyes piercing into the boy he held

his voice low and dominating “ you ever come back to her room on some creep shit — and I blow your fucking brains out do you hear me “

“ y-yes sir “ mineta let out dazed “ I will stick to yao-“

“ that goes for all the girls you hear me — guys included I know your a little pervy fuck you can’t get your hands on girls underwear you’ll move on to dekus shitty tidy whities”

mineta was silent as bakugou threw him back on the floor watching as he crawled off

his body relaxing as he shook his mind burning.

head in his hands before wiping his face in exhaustion and standing up and turning to you when he felt the air in the room shift , his hands out in jazz hands and a fake smile on his face.

“ ta da “ he was met with your sitting body your pillow covering him from seeing you .

your face dropping in shock moving from his tall figure that stood inching over to the now huge hole that he was trying to hide from you

“ k-katsuki “

“ I told you about that “

“ s-sorry “

“ again I told you about that shit “ his gaze was hard on you

“ do it again and i’ll tell shitty hair to harden in the next hug he gives you — since you and that crappy puppy boy are always touching “ he mumbled

“ bakugou why are you — why does my door have a hole in it “

“ don’t worry about it “

“ h- w-how can I not worry about it my doors black“ you screamed in confusion “ it used to be brown bakugou “

“ bakugou it used to be this — bakugou — katsuki oh my gosh i’m sorry — god do you ever shut the fuck up and just be thankful “ he mocked you soon converting back to his anger ridden voice

“ and whats with this pillow take it away from you — I wanna see your fucked up face “

you sighed bringing the pillow from in front of your head his eyes having a look run through them that you couldn’t figure out but you knew it had something to do with how puffy your eyes felt . Even if they weren’t puffy or couldn’t get puffy you’d never known for a fact because it still felt like they were .

You two stared at each other as the silence grew louder him shoving his hands in his pocket before taking out the packet of pills he’d gotten for you shaking them to show you it wasn’t a weapon like Mr.Aizawa thought after finding him returning to school late and shaking him down like a police officer

his hand putting them on your desk

His other one throwing the water he found in the kitchen to your bed “ not throwing you the pills — need you to move around so you gotta come get em‘ “

your face showed no emotion as he nodded understanding the new tense and uncomfortable emotions thats were present “ ... ok — well got a green headed vegetable to go bully so “

you watched as his hands gripped the door swinging it open as you dropped your head eyes moving to the water in front of you “ why can’t I do anything right “

you cried “ why can’t the world — the days — the stars fucking align for me to feel good for once huh “

you felt even more tears prickle your eyes as your voice grew louder “ why can’t I talk to people without having this voice in the back of my mind screaming — raging like its having a party — why can’t I sit in silence without having to stand up every five seconds and move around because my body screams for attention — for movement because i’ve been sitting still for 5 seconds “

you heard the faint click of the door mouth still moving as if he were still there

“ why can’t I speak what I feel when people ask me“ you laughed shortly “ not like they do — because they can’t tell I just mask so well “

you let your face start to feel heavy and tense as you continued your crying rant into the empty room “ and most importantly why was I so bad at everything “ your eyebrows furrowed

“ why am I so bad at today ? “

“ just a day really ? “ you heard the taller males voice came out questioning

“ just today that’s what your worried about “

“ well I “

“ tch “ he shook his head before turning to face away from you his face dropping into a look he didn’t want you to see.

“ I-i’m sor— “ you knew he didn’t like you saying sorry or even using his first name you two had established that when he finally accepted your friendship or in his words

‘ you can hang around —like shitty hair but one sniff of blabber mouth and your gone ‘

“ I didn’t mean to spill to you I just — I — you can go —no one gives a shit anyways “

“ I will “

your body grew sad at his quick response

“ tell me what your most upset about “

your answer came quick as you let your brain take over “ I wake up in the middle of the night and can never fall back asleep when I do “

he moved to your door for a second time opening it to leave before pausing for a second speaking something to where you couldn’t hear much less make out

“ just knock “

he shook his head before closing the door softly to rival his usual mood.

Your body shaking when you finally realized you’d spilled out your mental thoughts to bakugou letting your body calm down before you grabbed the pills and silently thanked your friend before feeling yourself at some time finally fall asleep

It’s been days since you last felt that horrible it never stopped but you were able to hide it even more and live out your life the happiest you could

until one night you found you beating yourself up surprisingly not in real life but in your dreams

a loud gasp leaving your mouth as you sat up calming down only to bring your knees to your chest arms wrapped around them in a hug

your back moving to the wall to feel comforted after only feeling your cold hands and body wrapped around yourself

“ what I would give to have something warm “

‘warm ‘

your mind raced to bakugou trying to push the thoughts out your mind of him actually being a caring boyfriend who could help you like he did nights ago with bringing you medicine, a boyfriend who would let you snuggle into him and take all his warmt—

stop the track cause that song will never play you thought as you started to think about him again face made up in determination and focus as you tried to remember what he said that night feeling stupid when you finally remembered your quirk

the quirk that brought you pain and contributed to your mental health

your quirk allowed you to take pictures of everyone’s last moments you’d spent together with your thoughts

it was good in some aspects like right now when you could finally remember where sato helped you hide your candy bars from yourself so you wouldn’t indulge in them 2weeks ago

at the same time you can see your problem with it when the last moment you had of your mother was her kissing you goodbye before shapeshifting into a fire extinguisher and landing in your fathers hands as he screamed at you to run out of your home and get more help the last image you seeing of your father was him spraying the fire extinguisher all over the stove in hopes to calm it down before it spread but he couldn’t

it didn’t help when the pictures replayed in your mind like video home movies that you didn’t want to watch

whenever your quirk was used everything spun in your head like a movie reel the downside was it made you watch every single picture you’d taken until you found the one you were looking for

it didn’t take long before you finished your mom and dads memory and got to bakugous last moment you two spent together

you zooming in reading his lips turning up the volume on the moment as he spoke “just knock “

“ just knock ? “ you sat confused in your spot on the bed shaking off your quirk taking as long as needed to process his words only to be even more confused and just knocking on the wall twice between your two shared dorm rooms.

You never paid much attention to him being your neighbor it’s not like you needed him for anything so right now you were a bit curious in why he reminded you that you two shared walls

Eyes closing while you waited for whatever was supposed to happen

“ guess he didn’t mean it like th—“

your body softened when you heard music fill his room and overflow into yours

You heard the drums kick in as the lyrics played muffled through your wall

‘I listened to the cure

I listened to the cure

and then I cried ‘

your eyes widened before you felt your body relax against the wall eyebrows made up in content

eyes watering when you heard your two soft knocks returned on the wall behind you

you let your body go tenseness leaving as the song played moving to grab your phone with shaky hands seeing his name light up on your screen

Godzilla wannab

‘ no one gives a shit about your life right ? ‘

you cried even harder when you saw the message fit the song perfectly the words you spoke a couple days ago as if your were singing the lyrics

you looked around your room before falling on the dent he left in your wall grabbing your phone and zooming in on it to take a picture and sending it to him

Godzilla wannab

sorry your room was just so ass you needed some redecorating be thankful people tend to cry when I redecorate—just ask deku

you laughed as you seen him prepare to send a new message your heart swelling when you read it

Godzilla wannab

look this is gonna sound sus as fuck but

you bit your lip at the new message

‘ if you can’t sleep come over — your rooms cold as fuck and I know that pillow your hugging’s not doing shit ‘

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cptnbvcks · 4 years

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Ok but think abt phone sex with javi (I mean it IS cannon that if you call him at work saying you want his cock in you, he'll run out of the office like it's on fire to go fuck)

dial tone (javier peña x reader)

words: 1.3k

rating: mature/explicit (18+)

summary: you decide to have some fun with javi (and murphy) after feeling a little bored while he’s at work.

warnings: phone sex, female masturbation, mild murphy tease/cuckhold-y.

a/n: its kinda short kinda hot might blueball you too i’m sorry

(gif source: @december-nimbus)

“Hey, Murph, is Javi there?”

Tucking the bulky landline receiver between his cheek and his shoulder, Murphy lifted his gaze from the growing molehill of paperwork that had slowly begun to consume the pair of crudely shoved together desks.

The Embassy was busy tonight; the hallways humming low with indistinct conversations that all seemed a little too antsy for the time of night. The white-noise drawl was loud, but not loud enough to mask the pillow-soft voice at the other end of the line. Murphy shifted the phone closer to his ear.

“He’s a little tied up right now,” Murphy offered, casting a lazy glance over to the glass paneling that separated Messina’s office from the rest of the space. He bit down the smirk that tried to work its way from his mouth to his voice as he watched Javier pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance while mutedly listening to Messina chew him out, “Pissed off Messina again.”

A hazy little laugh bubbled from the other side of the line, drawing its end on a breathless sigh. Murphy raised a brow, lowering his gaze to the phone cord as his thoughts pinwheeled around that airy amused sound.

“I think he likes her,” your voice pulls molasses slow from your throat; slow and honeyed enough that it makes him swallow and shift the phone against his ear again, “He only pisses off people he likes.”

“Then he must love me,” Murphy rallied back, winning another chimed laugh that made him feel like he’d been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar when his partner met his gaze from behind the glass walls. Murphy straightened his back and pointed to the receiver, mouthing your name as Javier began to respectfully wave Messina off.

“Oh, I think he loves you more than he loves me, Murph,” You sigh around his nickname and fight the smile that arches your lips at the pregnant pause that suspends the air with phone static.

“If I knew any better, I might be jealous,” The words come more urgently now, catching heavy in your throat and Murphy can’t help but note that it sounds like you’re laying down. Even more so when he hears the soft fabric shuffle of sheets. His brain sputters as your words curl tighter. “Should I be jealous, Murph?”

Murphy opens his mouth, bone dry and fumbling for a response as he watches Javier swing open Messina’s door. He clears his throat and tries again.

“No, ma’am,” he manages, swapping the phone from one ear to the other as Javier shakes his head at him before adding the folder in his hands to the cascading collection already pooling over the desks. Murphy follows his partner with his eyes as the man sits back heavily in the adjacent chair and makes no explicit move to take over the line of conversation.

Murphy arches a brow at the phone, and Javier shakes his head again as he drags his typewriter closer.

A quiet hum purred through the warp of the phone line, testing the softer octaves of your vocal cords as the words pulled from your throat.

“You still there, Murph?”

“We’re a little busy out here right now, sweetheart,” Murphy offers, his tone clipped and quick as he stared at Javier, who was doing a pointed job of working, “Want me to pass on a message—?”

The words abruptly staggered to a halt in his mouth.

Did he just… hear you moan?

“I don’t think you can pass on this— this message, Stevie.”

Oh.

Your words are swallowed and thick and the sudden pause in Murphy’s words draws Javier’s attention just as the man juts the receiver out across the table for him to take. Murphy tips his head and shoots him a look that says you better take this.

The next voice you hear is Javier’s. Heady and deep and razing warm from his chest with that baritone that made your cunt clench with emptiness.

“Baby—” He exasperates into the receiver, his voice laden and heavy as he pins Murphy with an irate expression that quickly falters when you wrap your lips around his name and gasp for it like you’ve been holding your breath from the minute you called in.

“Javi— Javi, baby—”

Your words are light and triumphant and they hang in the air of little quick gasps that sound far too loud and too intimate for the ugly glaring fluorescents of the unquiet Embassy. He looks away from Murphy then, who’s making a point of distracting himself by tapping out a cigarette from its carton, and hunches down in his chair to shoulder the room.

You whine again, a high and tight sound that makes his cock stir to life in his jeans. Javi casts his eyes across the room, lowering his voice when he speaks with those abrasive words masked with the thin veil of both threat and intrigue. “What do you think you’re doing, mija?”

“I just— mm, fuck— I miss you, Javi. Needed t-to hear your voice—”

The sheets shuffle again, faster this time, and Javier doesn’t need to see you to know that it’s the sound of your feet kicking off the covers. He doesn’t need to be there to know that it’s your fingers curling and twisting deep in that pretty little pussy of yours that’s already so wet and aching and weeping for him.

Fuck, maybe if the Embassy was quieter he’d be able to hear every soaked noise it made while you listened to him speak. Instead, he presses the receiver closer to his ear.

“I’m working, baby. I can’t—”

You choke out a pathetic little noise then — a simpering tone that glimmers in the bedroom air every fucking time he digs the pad of his thumb up against your soft clit. He knows the way your thighs jolt every time he does it; the way it pulls the air, gasping and empty, right from your lungs.

“Then put Murphy back on the line.”

The baseless taunt drops into the pit of Javier’s stomach and coils hot and insidious and you’ve placed the checkmate that’s gotten him moving immediately. Murphy looks up from where he’s been pretending to read a Centra Spike transcript, watching now as Javier snuffs out his cigarette and impatiently yanks out the half-typed page from the typewriter reel.

“Say that again, sweetheart. See what happens.”

Your cunt bottoms out at the warning; clenches wetly around your curled fingers until your hips instinctively roll harder into your palm. Your exhale catches clearly on the other end of the line and Javier stands up with enough suddenness that his chair skitters back across the tiled floor.

“Javi?” Murphy voices his concern but Javier’s more focused on the hasty words that begin to fall from your mouth, and he knows you’re on the edge of something devastating with enough wickedness in you to try to drag him down too.

“Do you think he’d help me?” You croon, panting quick around every syllable as you listen to Javier’s breathing hitch to match your own, “Do you think he knows that I’ve got two fingers curled up in my pussy, thinking about you, Javi? I—I think he heard me. You know how loud I get s-sometimes. How wet—”

The line goes dead before you finish the thought.

“I’m heading out,” he blurts out to Murphy, dropping the phone into its cradle before snatching up his leather jacket from the back of his seat and yanking it on, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Javi.”

There’s a note of amusement in Murphy’s voice and Javier pauses, one foot already ascending the step leading to the main exit. He stops and turns, watching as Murphy tucks his cigarette back into his mouth and pours himself a glass from the half-empty whiskey bottle.

“Did she say something to you?”

Murphy’s brow lifted as he looked from Javier’s pointed finger before meeting his half-accusing stare. He leaned back into his chair until it groaned in protest and raised his hands defensively.

“Not a word.”

—

Tag List

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#inbox #anonymous #javier pena #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #narcos fic #pedro pascal #narcos #idk tf else to tag this #myfic #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader

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alias-levi · 3 years

Text

flash fic friday #7

for @liz-pooh . in celebration of the exams you passed. i got you and i love you 💙

i also want to say that I'm not 100% happy with what I'm written but I'm quite happy with how my initial draft of this turned out in the end.

i appreciate very much every interaction with this post! 💙

fandom: twilight word count: abt. 1,500 words pairing: Felix/fem!oc topics (and warnings): teasing, fluff, domestic!Felix, i gotta admit Demetri is only mentioned like twice, dancing salsa

summary: Liza, Felix and Demetri have been sent to Galicia, Spain to find out more about an old vampire. But it’s late summer and the days are sheer endless - and so is the time that has to pass before they can leave the house. Time to learn some salsa.

[ID: They learned how to salsa on a Friday night in the dim light of the kitchen.]

source: this prompt is from @poison-prompts (it's also #66 if anyone wanted to know) and the only thing that is different, is that it's not dim haha

thank you and the text is below the cut :) enjoy!

Spain is a beautiful country - especially in late summer. The mostly dry air makes it rather easy to breathe in the heat. The seemingly endless masses of tourists are finally travelling home and there are a few quieter weeks before the first winter tourists arrive, looking for a place to stay warm and cozy while their home countries drown in rain and snow. They come to Spain to escape the depressing grey sky, the short days and long nights. In late summer, the nights are still warm enough to even go swimming in the ocean - not that the temperature would have been a big concern for three vampires anyways.

Liza, Felix and Demitri have been sent to Galicia by Aro. Their order is to find out more about a male vampire that’s supposed to be in the area. He is rumored to be several hundred years old and to have explicit information on the Spanish royals. Aro has also heard that this vampire is not too friendly towards strangers and - that’s where Liza’s power comes into picture - is said to be one of the last dozen people who still speak an old Galician dialect.

Aro is not taking any chances.

So, he sent Liza.

Because that’s what she does: Whenever Liza talks, the recipient will, without a doubt, hear her words in their mother tongue. No matter how ancient, how rare, how complicated or hard to pronounce the language is. While Liza always speaks her own first language, German, the received sound will differ. This has caused quite some surprised reactions so far and Liza loves seeing people get excited and emotional about hearing the language their mother once spoke. Especially older vampires.

Aro had provided the trio with a nice small finca near Oia, on Spain’s north-west coast. It’s not exactly a tourist hotspot like other Spanish cities, so their area is rather quiet. Just like the long days in the finca.

With a sigh Liza turns yet another page in the book she is reading. Demetri had retreated to his room just after noon, leaving Liza and Felix alone in the living area. The dining table somewhere behind Liza is cluttered with files and documents that Felix needs to examine to make sure they did not overlook anything.

Another dramatic sigh leaves the female vampire’s lips. Liza throws her book next to her onto the cushions and dramatically turns her head to look out of the window front. From the terrace, through the garden and beyond the fence a narrow path winds down just to the coast. Their own private beach.

Still, there’s hours to pass for the sun to set eventually.

Liza listens to Felix drop his file onto the table. His chair gets pushed back. Only a bit, though. She can hear it scratching over the wooden floor. He doesn’t stand up.

“Querida, have you ever danced salsa before?”

Liza snorts. “No, I can’t dance anyways.”

“You could learn it. You've got a lot of time now.”

“And who’s going to show me? You?”

There’s a challenge in her voice and Liza turns just enough to be able to look over the back of the sofa. Felix is staring at her, his elbows resting on his knees, hands together, head slightly tilted. He looks intimidating. Like a predator preparing to attack his prey.

“Querida you forget where I’m from. I’ve been dancing salsa before I could even walk.”

“How come I’ve never seen you dance before then?”

“Well, I’ve been lacking the right... partner for that. Come here, let me show you.”

“No, thank you. As I said, I can’t dance.” Liza laughs and turns back around.

“Oh come on! This is going to be fun!”

“Make me!”

Liza’s book gets ripped out of her hands and hits the wall with a thud before falling to the floor. Still sitting on the sofa, Felix is towering above her. He leans down, one hand on either side of her. Felix’ face is so close, Liza can see her reflection in his dark red eyes and ever so often she can’t help but look down onto his lips. But she doesn’t get to do anything about it.

Felix winks at Liza.

Taking her hands he pulls her up and away from the sofa. Felix doesn’t let go of her hands when he takes another step back and turns serious again.

“Basic steps, querida. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

Liza rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Good. Now mirror me. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Do it again.”

“Easy. That’s it?”

Felix smiles at her, “oh no. These are the basic steps that will stay the same all the time. Oh and you need to move your hips more.”

Liza’s eyes shoot up to look at Felix. A smug grin on his face.

“If you wanna see me shake my booty, you just had to ask, boy.”

Felix moves to stand behind his girlfriend and his sudden closure makes it surprisingly hard to concentrate. His lips are at her ear, softly touching it as he speaks quietly.

“Again, querida. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Left-”

The vampire’s hands have been sitting loosely on Liza’s hips. Guiding them, his body as close as possible but still leaving her enough space. When she missteps, Liza rests her head on her boyfriend, groaning. Felix chuckles softly into her ear.

“Am I making you nervous, querida?”

“Nervous is not what I would call it,” she turns around in his arms. There’s an expression flickering through her eyes that causes Felix to swallow hard. “Let’s just say you distract me... Anyways, what’s next?”

Felix watches Liza bat her eyelashes innocently at him and it takes clearing his throat for him to find his words again.

“Right, right. So next we do this together. Come here.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Liza. He pulls her back in, probably a bit too far, but that is not the point. Liza laughs briefly and takes Felix’ hand. After making sure she’s good with the basic steps, Felix starts rotating them. Slowly but surely they make one round, and it is really coming together.

It’s cute how concentrated Liza stares at their feet, Felix finds, so he decides to spice things up by telling her to do a double step. Though neither vampire stops in their movements, Liza looks at Felix in disbelief.

“A double step?”

“Yes,” he smiles at her encouragingly, “I’ll count you in twice then we actually do it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her answer is breathless but her eyes never leave Felix’. After a couple more minutes Liza gets the hang of it and feels safe enough to look at Felix again. He looks utterly happy and relaxed. She smiles.

Felix looks at his girlfriend with a proud face. “Close your eyes,” he tells her. “Keep the steps the same, that’s the only thing you need to concentrate on. I’ll do the rest. Trust me.”

And Liza does. Closing her eyes, she rolls her shoulders one last time and relaxes her hands. She can feel Felix move them around again, slow circles but not on the spot anymore. Felix leads them in bigger circles through the area. Once he feels sure enough that Liza will keep the steps, he starts moving faster. He watches her frown.

“You’re getting faster.”

“Correcto, querida. You’re doing great so far.”

Liza smiles and suddenly Felix’ hand leaves her hip. His other keeps holding hers and her free hand just hovers in the air. For three steps they stay like this, then Liza feels Felix’ chest under her fingertips again. She opens her eyes and takes the look in.

Smiling brightly Felix’ eyes never leave her face. His dark, usually very neat hair, looks a bit disheveled and his black silky dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned.

Quite a look, Liza thinks to herself.

But the female vampire doesn’t look less alluring. Tight black control leggings are hugging her curves and her white sheer cotton blouse has been unbuttoned a while ago. Underneath, a white crop top holds everything in place and covers about as much as it reveals.

Felix can’t take his eyes off her as they dance. Dancing salsa again after all this time brings back some memories he usually keeps locked away. But the woman in his hands keeps his brain routed in the present. By now, she is taking some initiative. Liza is putting more power into her steps and swings her hips just a bit more. When Felix’ eyes return to Liza’s face he watches her tip her head back and laugh. Freely. Happily.

In a swift motion, he brings their bodies together. He doesn’t need to tell her that they are no longer doing double steps. By now hours must have passed and their bodies are synced oh so well.

Reflexively Liza gasps for air. She raises her arms to lock her hands in his neck. Her eyes wide open as Felix’ hands cup her side firmly. She knows what’s about to come.

Then Felix kisses her.

#twilight #prompt #writeblr #felix x oc #felix volturi #oc: liza #ps i love queue #flash fic friday #levi wrote stuff #teasing #fluff #domestic!felix #demetri is only mentioned i'm sorry

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warandpussy · 3 years

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omg PLS talk more abt ur 12dole!

sure! link

fyi I barely remember writing this, all i remember is that it's super weird i suppose the point is it's about being lonely. i love s10 for the way it slows down, gives the doctor a home base, a time to breathe. but i also love how, with that, he has to deal with the demons in his head scrabbling at the door; he can't ignore them any more. like. his wife just died. so this fic was like, i want to explore that loneliness and that grief.

to be clear, it's also about the doctor getting off with a decapitated robot head.

i'll put this under a cut

The Doctor stares into the mirror on the wall.

It isn’t – it’s not something he likes to do. It’s uncomfortable, he thinks, to observe the evidence of a long life carved into a face. To confront the evidence of age and time passing, old regrets scoring delicate lines over the brow, the cheeks, beneath the eyes. He considers his reflection and swallows the lump in his throat.

It’s with a trembling hand that he reaches out to his glass counterpart, feeling that even a touch of his skin will send it shattering to the ground at his feet, that a press of his fingers against something that isn’t even him, not really, could break him apart. You’re lonely, you’re lonely, his brain cackles at him, and it sounds like –

In the end, it’s just cold, smooth. Nothing.

He runs his finger over the image of his lips, lets himself slip into memory, lets himself remember being touched there. Allows himself the indulgence of it. A wicked grin; a puff of curly hair; ‘hello, sweetie.’

so we start here. you ever been so lonely you just touch your own face to imagine someone else doing it? yeah. i guess the doctor feels like someone who never really gets to process any of this a lot of the time, because one series will end with a tragedy, and then the next one will just pick up on the next adventure. but if your wife died, you got trapped in a university with a woman who hates (?) you and a bitchy robot, you'd probably have some issues.

i wanted to start it here, on his own, because that's the thing, really. he's alone. or he feels alone. and it's a bit dramatic and over the top because when you're miserable that's what you do. the world is falling apart. i'll be alone forever.

the next scene is him and Nardole, and it's like, a drastic shift in tone

“How’s the new head working out?”

“Oh.” Nardole reaches up a hand and pats at his ample cheek. “Quite well, actually, sir.” He strokes his neck a little, tracing a light finger underneath his collar where the seam in his skin is. “Much more efficient processing power.” He gives a little self-conscious cough. “I’ve been having new ideas every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor tells him, picking up Rachael Simmerton’s essay on – faith and free will, apparently – and pretending to read the introduction. It’s not, of course. Heavens above, he doesn’t need Nardole having ideas. He’ll have to fix that in a later upgrade. “That’s – fab. Great to hear.”

none of the above is coming through. he's masking it, of course he is. the worst thing about being lonely is that you can't say you're lonely, otherwise people will know how lonely you are - and isn't that to most pitiable thing. no - best to.. uh.. snog a robot head, apparently.

i wish that was how it worked in real life

i really like this scene for the banter between him and Nardole. they're so awful together. I love them.

Nardole pushes himself up with his elbows and stomps over to the Doctor’s desk. He jabs a finger in his face. “Rude. That was rude.” The Doctor shrugs. “You’ve been in my room before, and it was fine.”

“There were pants on the floor.”

“I was in the shower!”

“Ugh.” The Doctor shudders again, deliberately meeting Nardole’s gaze as he does. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s my room, I can leave my pants on the floor if I want to.”

“My spaceship,” the Doctor reminds him. “And I don’t make you pay rent.”

Nardole rolls his eyes. “Good thing, too, given you don’t pay me at all,” he says, and trundles irritably into the TARDIS.

So yeah, the Doctor gets Nardole to bring out one of his spare heads (it's a whole thing, there's a cupboard full of heads, they have some kind of shared memory drive, the old ones go a bit insane the longer they're detached from the body).

It’s a little disconcerting, having your cyborg assistant’s decapitated head on your desk, but at this point the Doctor has seen enough of Nardole’s body, given all the upgrades he’s had to do over the past seventy years, that it doesn’t faze him. He’ll end up seeing a lot more, most likely; they’ve still got over nine hundred years still to go. This doesn’t faze him either – certainly not as much as it would have done back when they’d first been stuck here, uncomfortable in their stillness, squabbling with each other just to pass the time.

The first time he’d had his hands in Nardole’s chest, sometime in the late nineties, tinkering with the artificial heart he’d had installed, Nardole had asked him why he even bothered.

“Can’t have my manservant dying on me, can I?” he’d muttered, irritated at the question.

“Oh, is that what I am?” Nardole had bitched.

Covering his face with his welder’s mask, the Doctor let out a snort. “If you shuffle off this mortal coil, Nardole, I’ll have to hire a new assistant. I can’t be bothered.”

“Let me be clear, you're giving me eternal life so that you don't have to hold job interviews?”

“Yes.”

Nardole had looked at him for a long time after that, uncharacteristically silent. When the Doctor was done, he’d grabbed his wrist and squeezed, before standing and making two cups of horrifically sweet tea. The Doctor had drunk the lot.

i was talking about this the other day with you. i guess i tend to think there's a real power in delay, in writing. when the real scene is going on, but then the characters trip into a memory. the Doctor's nervous about what he's going to do (and, in a doylist fashion, the reader doesn't KNOW what he's going to do) so by pausing the 'real' scene and tripping into this memory, we get to hold off on that reveal for a little longer

but we also get to explore the Nardole and Doctor dynamic. which is, here, one where they bitch and squabble with each other, but they still obviously deeply care for one another. #married.

Carefully, he probes behind the left ear for the on-switch, flipping it over with a slight press of his finger. It takes a moment, but the eyes flutter open and the mouth pulls itself up into a tiny smile. The smile drops off his face when he sees who’s holding him up.

“What do you want?” Nardole snipes.

he's such a bitch i'm obsessed with him

The Doctor sighs, and buries his face in his arms. “In the past, it was always – adventure, fun, heat-of-the-moment, explosions, running, kissing,” he mumbles. Nardole grunts at the acknowledgement of it. “Now,” the Doctor goes on, “now I just sit here.”

quarantine vibes.

no, but seriously, quarantine vibes. when i wrote this in february i was working the most gruelling, horrible job i've ever had in my life, and also i was in lockdown AGAIN and i couldn't fucking go anywhere or do anything fun. my whole life just became this awful job, that i did sat at my desk at home. i'd get off work, go lie in bed and cry, and then go back to work. now i just sit here indeed.

“Main Head said he was talking to you lot daily,” the Doctor says. He gives him a look.

Nardole puffs out his cheeks. “For a few minutes, sure. But it’s not like we get on.”

“You are exactly the same person,” the Doctor says, exasperated.

me @ me

(sorry this isn't going to just be all me laughing at my own jokes)

yeah. so they make out. there's like, negotiation on what Nardole (Spare Head One) is going to get out of this deal - he wants to go outside (mood) and he wants sweets and tea (bigger mood). he also doesn't want the Doctor to fall in love with him (uhhhh biggest mood??? i feel like if the Doctor falls in love with you you're doomed to a horrible ending).

“Guh,” Nardole says, and the Doctor pulls him off, lips tingling. Nardole’s face is red, which is interesting from a technical point of view – no blood, how does that work? – but the Doctor finds he doesn’t really care to think about it at the moment. He feels suffused with life; that empty cavity in his chest at least partially filled in, something present that had been missing.

The body is made to touch, after all.

for this i really need to insist on something. this is sci fi, nominally, but i DON'T CARE about the science. i really don't. why is Nardole's face red? how does he have spit? i don't care!!!!! i don't care about worldbuilding. i think, personally, for me, the "science" part of science fiction is just about finding a way to heighten a concept to reflect back something about the real world.

also i feel like it makes it more doctor who the less i give a shit about the science but that's by the by.

i guess this is like. THE scene. the scene of the fic. the point of it.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me with you to visit her,” Nardole says, scathing. They’re wandering through the grounds, as promised, the Doctor clinging onto the ears and holding out the head in front of him.

The Doctor snorts. “You’re not coming in with me.”

“What?”

He gestures at the sports bag he’s got slung over one shoulder. “I’ll chuck you in here.”

They walk past a clump of students who are chattering among themselves. They don’t even balk at him carrying an extremely lifelike head around with him. None of them have. Nardole had said it was because he was ‘super old’ and that young people don’t even notice he exists unless he’s looking frail and delicate next to a traffic light. The Doctor had frowned but hadn’t been able to dispute it.

Still, he makes Nardole hold his expression very still whenever they’re near other people. He’s got a whole story planned out in case he does get asked.

“Professor! Professor Doctor!” some enterprising young thing would say, jogging up. “What’s with the mannequin? It looks just like your assistant!”

“Ah,” the Doctor would say, stroking his chin like he had a goatee – he’d done that once in front of Missy and she’d told him he looked very refined, and offered tips for growing one – “you see, I’m planning a lecture series on death masks in Ancient Greek culture, so I’ve been experimenting with plaster casting.”

“Oh, how fascinating!” the student would say, fluttering their hands in front of their chest. “I’ll have to sign up!”

The Doctor would nod dismissively and stride away as if he had something important to go to. Nardole would almost certainly grumble about the Doctor saying he was dead, but he’d not have a leg to stand on – ha – because he was a robot and therefore had never even been alive. (Well – maybe he had… the Doctor didn’t really remember Nardole’s backstory – River had explained it once while they’d lain together in bed, but he’d zoned out, staring instead at the fine whorls of her ear).

Anyway, no one has asked yet, but he’s prepared if they do.

again - delay, so important here. the Doctor and Nardole (Spare Head One) are walking round and about the grounds on one of Nardole's requested walks. the Doctor is Not Doing Great, but he's trying to fake it. he gets triggered into a memory where Nardole calls him "super old", and then, almost as a defence to that, imagines a world where the students (who are ignoring him) all come fluttering up to him and admiring him in that way that he likes.

that's not happening.

It’s one of those cold spring mornings where the sun casts its light over the world in a glittering array, bouncing off dewdrops, shattering through windows. The air is sharp and bright, bracing the breath, probing his lungs with its chilled fingers. Everything teetering on the verge of too much. Too bright, too cold, cutting like a knife.

I'm really proud of this paragraph. I was trying to imagine how you would describe like, beautiful weather, on a day when you felt like shit. it's "glittering" "shattering" "sharp". it "probes him with chilled fingers" - it's invasive, harsh, awful. and it triggers another memory.

The last time he’d been out, alone, on a morning like this, the Doctor remembered, he’d embraced this muchness, let it fill him up, let it consume him. He’d thought it was the only way to feel touched again. Not by a person, but by the world. Then he’d berated himself; so pathetic, so maudlin. People don’t owe you their touch. It’s enough to have felt it at all. Enough to know.

Greedy, he’d thought. Insatiable. Selfish.

He falters by the sycamore tree, dropping Nardole lower. There’d been a cat here.

There had been a cat that had rubbed up by his legs, purring. He’d been so bright, so lonely. He had it picked up, holding it upside down so he could rub gently at the soft hot fur of its belly. It had let him, for a moment, lax in his arms, blinking, squinting up at the cold sun. Then, it had wriggled and squirmed, saying let me down, let me down, and he had thought, oh, not even you?

Not even you, he had thought as he set it down again, not even you want to touch me, and it had scurried off, heading to the cafeteria where the students likely would give it scraps of bacon sandwiches and drop pieces of cheese into its pleading mouth.

“Sir?” Nardole says quietly.

"not even you want to touch me"

like, that's the whole point - what he's been circling around this whole time. he came up with this crazy coping mechanism (snog a robot head, let's not forget his solution was to snog a robot head), but it doesn't fix the root cause which is that his wife is dead and his friend/enemy is locked up and he's lonely

anyway. they go to visit Missy (Nardole zipped up in a bag the whole time).

“What’s with the bag?” she asks. “Not seen that one before. You joined a basketball team?”

“Tried that once,” he tells her. “Got kicked out.”

“You thought it was netball, didn’t you?”

He huffs a breath through his nose, smiling again. “I thought it was netball,” he admits.

Missy purses her lips, eyeing the ceiling. “Makes sense,” she says. “It’s a net, and a ball. Honestly. I would understand it if they were chucking balls into baskets.”

“Football has a net too,” the Doctor says.

“And tennis.”

“I might just start calling every human sport ‘netball’ and see how angry they all get.”

Missy frowns. “I thought I was here to learn how to be nice to the wee humans.” She raises her eyebrows, tilts back in her chair. “You’re a bad example, you are.”

This is what they do now, this talking without really talking. Lots of words that say nothing at all.

he wants to connect with her so badly, but nothing they say has any meaning. they're just talking, blandly, about what's in front of them. they're there, together, but there's no connection. you can be lonely even when you're with other people

then Missy plays the piano for him (and there's NO duet, which as I'm sure you know, means that there is NO INTIMACY)

sex joke:

When the Doctor gets back to his office, Nardole is reclined in his favourite armchair, reading a saucy magazine. The Doctor peers over his shoulder.

‘HIS SECRET SEX SPOTS’, the article screams, ‘HOW TO PLEASE YOUR MAN IN THREE EASY STEPS’.

“Why are you reading that?” he asks before he can stop himself. Nardole looks up and fixes him with a look. “Actually don’t tell me.”

“I’ve got a boyfriend.”

The Doctor blinks. “What about Sharon?”

Nardole sighs loudly. “Haven’t you heard of polyamory?”

“Your spare head hasn’t told me about a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Nardole says, narrowing his eyes. “Is that why you wanted him? To gossip about my comings and goings?”

“I definitely don’t want to know about your comings,” says the Doctor.

sorry i promised not to just laugh at my own jokes but honestly why else would i be here

they do this for a while. then Bill catches them.

“What are you doing?!” someone squawks.

Instinctively, the Doctor surges up and flings Nardole’s head clear across the room.

It’s Bill, standing in the doorframe, backlit by the light from the corridor. She’s looking at him, her face a picture of pure shock. Horrified. “Did you behead Nardole?”

oof. poor Bill, she goes through so much.

she drags Nardole to the office, and

He swings his feet back to the floor, turns to the two of them. Three of them. “You know,” he starts, “that I have been alone since my wife – left me.”

“Died,” Spare Head Nardole supplies.

Bill’s mouth drops open. “You’re married?”

Main Head Nardole elbows her. “He was.” He spins the photo of River on the Doctor’s desk around, making as if to grab it, and the Doctor is suddenly furiously, furiously angry. He slaps Nardole’s hand away.

“Do you mind!” he snaps, and clutches River’s picture close to his chest. His breaths are coming harsh and ragged, his throat tightening again. “I have been alone,” he says at last, “for seventy years. Alone in this office, in this building, in this city.” He puts the picture frame back on the desk, focusses on straightening it out, puts it perfectly in its place. “So yes,” he says, and breathing is coming easier now, “we came to an agreement. Me and him.” He gestures to Spare Head One.

“Him and me,” Spare Head One says.

“I see,” Bill says after a moment. The Doctor has hopes that that will be the end of it, that these two might piss off now, but then Bill ruins it by continuing to speak. “So you’re lonely.”

he can't even say it, that's the worst thing. he can't even say "she died" because it hurts too much. easier to say she just left. easier. better. because then maybe she'd come back.

Nardole doesn't let that happen though. he's someone that just like... says things, as they are. he just says it. she's dead. Bill's the same. you're lonely.

she's dead, you're lonely.

honestly wtf would the Doctor do without these two.

Bill goes like... you literally have a girlfriend locked up downstairs just talk to her for heaven's sake

Bill snatches up Spare Head One, who lets out a small squeak, and turns to the door. “How about we just go and get everything sorted out? Communication’s what it’s all about, you know!”

yeah Bill! comminication IS what it's all about

the problem with her plan - which is, as far as I can tell, "get the two weird Time Lords to speak to each other, maybe" is that she forgot to account for Missy being as weird as shit as well

Missy cackles. “Of course he doesn’t.” She whips the mango off the shelf and plunges her hand into the base of it. “That’s because he’s here!” And with a dramatic spin, she whips out another Spare Head from inside the mango.

“What was he doing under there?” Bill asks, baffled.

Missy rubs her nose. “Well,” she says, pointing at Spare Head One, “he offered.”

“So you fixed him,” Bill says, “and then you just shoved him under a thing on a shelf and – left him there?”

“No,” says Missy. “I bring him out from time to time.”

Bill frowns. “What for?”

Missy’s painted-red lips spread into a wicked smile. “Kissing.”

Bill blinks at her for a second, and then rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ,” she says. “You two deserve each other.”

there's like... symmetry to it, right? synergy. they were lonely, there were some spare heads floating around, why not have a snog

OBVIOUSLY their problem is that they don't TALK to each other, they don't acknowledge their pain and they just like... cope, in the worst possible ways. but also i think it's funny so that's why i did this

the mango is obviously a reference to my other missydole fic, where Nardole gets his head stuck in a mango

obviously

THEN we get to the REAL weird bit

“Doctor,” she says, voice low, and hands him the head. “Kiss him for me?” The Doctor chokes on his own spit. “I want to watch.”

The Doctor turns his eyes to Nardole, who twitches his forehead in a way that might mean might as well, or might mean get away from me. Slowly, he leans in. Nardole’s eyes get big and round, but he doesn’t say anything, and as their mouths touch he lets out a soft sigh. The Doctor pulls away again and turns his head back to Missy. He raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”

“Very much,” she says, and plucks Nardole out of his hands.

“No, sir, don’t let her!”

“Oh,” Missy says, nostrils flaring, “I fix your head but I’m not allowed a little thank you kiss?”

Nardole narrows his eyes. “Only if you fix me, too.” He sniffs, and darts his eyes over to Spare Head Two, who sits still on the piano watching them all silently. “Like you did him.”

“Done.”

“Oh fine then,” grumbles Nardole, and she presses a dry, almost chaste kiss against his lips. When she pulls back, he has the impression of her lipstick all over his mouth.

“Your turn again,” she says throatily, and passes Nardole back to him. The Doctor leans in again and licks the lipstick off his mouth, smearing the red between the two of them. Missy leans in and whispers in his ear, breath hot, while he does, “It’s almost like you’re kissing me, by proxy, isn’t it?” He grunts, and kisses Nardole harder.

They part with a slick sound, and the Doctor eyes Nardole’s mouth with satisfaction, the faint pink stains all over his lips. He runs a finger over them. Missy leans over, and as the Doctor turns his head she kisses him on the corner of his mouth, pulling back with an irritated scowl.

"You were aiming for my cheek, weren't you?" he accuses.

“Give him to me,” Missy says, and he complies. She stands, Nardole clutched close to her chest, and wanders over to the piano stool which opens to reveal a full tool set. She grabs a screwdriver, and starts fiddling around in Nardole’s neck.

“Oh, we’re done, are we?” the Doctor says, trying not to sound petulant, and not really succeeding.

She gives him a disdainful glance. “Wanted more, did you?”

look i just want things to be awful and horrible for them all. like these are literally such rancid vibes. i think it's funny.

(oh, another note - in my FIRST publishing of this fic, did the Doctor and Missy kiss? no. did you come sobbing into my DMs about it? yes. did I write an entirely new bit just for you? yes)

i think. there's probably a version of this where they talk more. they open up to each other more. but i liked this more quiet, subdued version, where Missy fixes the other head, and it's more about what's implied than what's outright stated. i mean, yes, i love a good love confession, but i think there's almost something more intimate about this quiet understanding.

they've kissed, she's fixing something.

he knows things are going to be okay.

and, last words to the Doctor and Bill:

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” she says. “I’m sorry. You can – obviously, you can do what you want.” She swallows. “I didn’t know about your wife.”

Oh. The Doctor puts the essay back on the desk, and opens his arms. Bill burrows into them, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You didn’t know.”

“How long?”

“We’re time travellers, it’s difficult,” he deflects. She doesn’t say anything, but pulls back and gives him a look. “About seventy years.”

Bill smiles sadly. “That’s a long time,” she says, “to be alone.”

The Doctor looks down at her hand, and holds it in his own. He smiles at her. “I’m not alone,” he says. “Not any more.”

YEAH

i guess that's sort of explicating what was implied in the previous scene. he's not alone. he's got friends. he's got a plethora of spare heads. and he's also got Missy.

i think OBVIOUSLY i wanted this story to be funny and silly and wild and i wanted the Doctor to have a really embarrassing time snogging a robot head, but i also was really trying to say something about what it feels like to be lonely, and i am like, genuinely proud of it. i think it's probably one of the best things I've written.

i wrote it at a really horrible time in my life, like i said, and i don't really remember writing it for the most part. reading it back was actually like.. good. which is honestly so nice.

like, i wrote this for like two people (hi), and myself, and it's very much my brand of humour, which is that it's funny but it's also sad because i think funny hits harder when it's balanced on the knife edge of tragedy.

SO. YEAH.

~~fin~~

#sorry this is so long i was going to do it with images but the image description only lets you put 200 characters #also i had a lot to say apparently!!!!!!!!!!!!!#spare hearts #writing

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baroquebucky · 5 years

Text

autumn leaves

A/N: HI GUYS IM SORRY FOR NEVER POSTING AGHHH I’ve been so caught up with school i took the SAT and lost all my brain cells,,, bUT i was listening to + by Ed Sheeran and i was so soft thinking abt Brian May talking about the stars with you ahhh so here’s me badly writing about Brian May hah pls request i promise I’ll get to them <3

After so many months your beautiful boyfriend was coming home. He’d been on tour for so long and you missed playing with his curly hair every night before bed, trying to braid it only to give up in fear of tangling his gorgeous locks. You were sitting at home calmly eating some cereal, hair messy and eyes droopy. You heard some shuffling around in the hall of your small apartment but paid no mind. Probably your new neighbors, you couldn’t wait to complain to bri about how loud they’ve been since they’ve moved in.

Too engrossed in your not so interesting cereal as some Queen songs played in the background, softly humming along. As you went through the motions of dancing and singing along, you used your spoon as a makeshift guitar to copy your boyfriends impeccable skills.

“I mean at this rate you’re gonna replace me in the band, love” you spun around dropping your spoon and choking on the milk in your mouth. “Bri! Jesus you scared me” you yelped running toward him and quickly wrapping your legs around him. Hugging him so he wouldnt leave again.

“I’ve missed you so much pretty boy” you spoke softly as you kissed his cheek, wasting no time to run your hand through his hair. “I’ve missed you too sweets” he spoke as he kissed your lips softly. He gently put you down as he grabbed his suitcases and walked into the room to set them in tie shared bedroom. As he unpacked you finished your routine, giddy to spend more time with you curly headed boy.

“Are you doing anything later?” He questioned from the bedroom as you walked in to lay on the bed. “Not that i know of, why?” You huffed as you belly flopped on the side of the bed that wasn’t being taken up by his bags. “I have a date idea is all” he gave you a quick smile before finishing putting his clothes in their rightful places.

“And what is that Mr. May?” You quipped sitting up and crossing your legs, looking up at him with a sweet smile. His heart rate picked up, god he had missed you. He missed humming to you so you could sleep, playing with your hair, trying to teach you to play guitar only for you to get frustrated and give up every five minutes.

He tackled you with a hug as he layed on top of you. “You’re gonna crush me with your lanky body Brian! Get off!” You giggles trying to push the tall man off you but failing and he kissed you all over your face- sloppy wet kisses at that. “I’ve missed you so much my angel” he spoke, adoration laced in his every word. “I’ve missed you too, more than you can imagine” just as you were about to kiss a loud bang against the wall caused you to jump and accidentally kick Brian in the stomach, he fell off the bed coughing trying to get his breath back. “holy shit I’m so sorry baby, these neighbors suck, they’re always so loud and arguing i hate them” you ranged as you quickly got off your shared bed to help your beloved boyfriend up. “‘S fine Y/N, but next time they’re loud and ruin our moment, we’re gonna have a problem” he spoke, face completely serious. You smiled and placed a kiss on his jawline humming in agreement.

After spending the rest of the day talking about all his time on tour and catching up (even though he had called every night) he went to shower and change into other clothes for your date. As Brian showered you changed into comfortable clothes since he had said to wear that for the date. When you finished changing you sat on the couch waiting for you boyfriend to finish changing and fixing his hair. “I think you take longer than i do to get ready honey” you laughed as he exited the room and grabbed his car keys. You got off the bed as he grabbed your hand placed his arm around you. “It’s hard work to look this good” he replied smiling.

You had been driving for 30 minutes and you wondered where you were going, there was nothing around. “Where are we going bri? There’s nothing here?” You questioned as he told you to wait in the car while he stopped at a grocery store. After waiting for a good 15 minutes he came back putting everything in the back seat. “No peeking!” He scolded you when you tried to see what he was doing, “fine! jeez i can’t even look anywhere now” you huffed playfully as he got back in the drivers seat, leaning over to kiss you. You leaned your head against the window slowly drifting to sleep as Brian had his hand on your thigh.

“Y/N, darling get up.” Brian’s soft voice woke you as he slightly moved you to help you out the car. “Where are we pretty boy?” You yawned seeing the blanket on the ground with some snacks in a basket. It was dark and there were no city lights. You heart rate picked up, you always loved when he talked about the stars and had always begged him to take you star gazing. He had promised to do it when he came back from tour- and always the gentleman of course he remembered. He laughed as the realization hit you and your sleepiness gone as you bounced around happily.

“What are you waiting for come here! Tell me about the stars Dr. May!” You yelled excitedly settling on the blanket and laying down waiting for Brian to sit down so you could put you head in his lap. He quickly took his spot, looking at you in adoration.

He pointed at a set as he traced the stars “that one there is Canis Major, this one over here is my personal favorite, oh! This one is Ursa Minor and over there is Ursa Major. There’s Orion..” he continued to point out all the stars, naming each of them, you couldn’t help but feel your heart ache of happiness and love for your space boy. Each one he named it’s like they lit him up with pure joy and passion. You stared at him and looked back at the stars.

You saw a shooting star, “look bri! A shooting star, make a wish!!” you said sitting up quickly and clinging to his side as a chilly breeze passed. He looked at you as he picked you up and placed you between his legs to wrap the blanket around you.

“I’ve already got everything i need with me love” He looked down at you. “I’ve always thought the stars were beautiful, but sweets you’re definitely the brightest star in my life.” Your eyes began to gloss over as you sat up and wrapped your legs around his waist. “People always say we find beauty in nature because we think it’s all for us, i never believed it. But being here with you, the stars have never shined so brightly, and it’s for you, it’s always for you” as he finished his sentence he kissed you.

It was different this time from other times, always full of love, passion, happiness but now nervousness. He shuffled around as he pulled out a small velvet box from his pants. “Y/N you’re my girl and i love you with all my heart, i never want to lose you. You play with my hair and manage to not get your hand stuck in it, you supported me ever since smile and never once lost faith in me, you love my music and everyday you surprise me with something new. It’s always an adventure despite however many miles away we are. I’m always at home with you, i can look up at sky and i can talk to you about everything for hours and you don’t get tired of it, you help me with everything and love me unconditionally. And i never want to lose you. You’re my North Star. I promise that no matter what happens I’ll always come back to you, you’re always my guiding light. The love of my life. Will you marry me?”

You sat there almost sobbing as tears flowed down your face, you could see his hands shaking slightly, you nodded you head quickly choking out a small yes as you threw yourself on him burying your face in his neck. “I love you so much Dr. Brian May” you whispered as he slid the ring on your finger, glinting in the moonlight. “And i love your Mrs. May.”

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may fluff #queen imagines #gwilym!brian #gwilym!brian x reader #70’s brian may #80’s brian may

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ollie-oxen-free · 5 years

Text

for the best

me, thinking abt an idea for angst: “oh, oh ho ho ho ho, what haves’t thou here??? OwO?”

Mapleblossom (ut papyrus/sf papyrus)

WARNINGS: violent urges, insults, suicidal thoughts

It’s quiet in the Tale brother’s house. Snowdin is always quiet, but it’s peaceful, all the sounds muffled from snow. It’s a quiet, soft sort of feeling in their home. Slim typically likes the loud, likes the energy and chaos, but he can appreciate the quiet sometimes. Especially now, thoughts running violent laps around his brain. There’s a soft shuffling sound coming from the kitchen, and he walks into the house further- kicking the snow from his shoes on the mat because he knows how much Papyrus hates it when there are little puddles of water all over their patterned carpet and even the thought of that makes his nonexistent throat clench and his breaths unsteady.

Papyrus either hears him or sees him from the corner of his socket. He’s cleaning, a rag in his hand as he wipes off the counters. There’s a stool in front of the sink that’s not normally there. He must have just cleaned it.

“Slim!” he says, loud and excited. He’s almost always loud, though.

Slim had asked him once why and Papyrus had looked away, seeming to ponder the question for a moment before he shrugged with a grin. ‘That’s just my voice,’ he had said like it was obvious fact. It was nice no matter what.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, both hands holding onto the rag in his hands. Slim stares at the cloth for a moment before he tilts his head down, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“We need to talk.” Brief. Steady. From his peripheral he sees Papyrus frown in concern, brows furrowing in worry. The hands that are holding the rag increase their grip slightly before he lets go, setting it on the counter.

“Okay?” He smiles. Slim has come to know when Papyrus is actually smiling or when he’s forcing it. The sight of a grin that is strained, the way that the lights in his sockets that are already barely there disappear entirely, it lets him know just which one it is.

He steps to the side as Papyrus moves past him going to sit on the couch. “Sans is at Grillby’s right now,” he explains with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. Underneath that is the degree of fondness that comes when he talks about his brother. It leaves a bitter twist in his soul.

Slim leaves the kitchen and sits on the other side of the couch, not missing the way that Papyrus flinches slightly at the distance. The worry becomes stronger. Slim doesn’t want to talk, hates what he’s doing. He wants to move over beside the other and wrap him in his arms, wants to joke and laugh and indulge in all kinds of stupid, romantic bullshit. Instead he folds his arms over his chest, follows the patterns woven into the carpet on the floor.

It’s quiet for a moment as he gathers his courage. “...What’s wrong?” He glances up to see Papyrus staring at him, entirely open and not judging and worried but he would never force him to talk. Slim grips tighter on his arms, pictures digging a knife into the bone, the scum of the earth.

It stays quiet. After another stiff moments Papyrus fakes a smile, shifts slightly. “We can do a puzzle, if you want.”

It’s entirely off base, something so simple in a time of uncertainty, but the words make him want to laugh, feeling magic threatening to accumulate in his eyes. Papyrus never makes him talk, glad to fill the silence or sit with him until he sorts his shit out. In the back of his mind he recalls times when he’s sat on the floor at the coffee table, Papyrus sitting across from him as they worked in piece by piece of a puzzle when he was feeling a little less than good. He wants to say yes, wants to forget all of this. Wants to slam his fist into the wall for fucking everything up.

He shakes his head. “No, I-” A swallow. Try again around the knot in his soul. “This isn’t working out.”

It’s a different kind of quiet now. One of shock. “I…” Papyrus grins and now he looks up. The other’s leg is bouncing up and down quickly. “What?”

Slim swallows. “It’s over, Papyrus. We can’t be together.”

The forced smile shifts into something genuine, but it’s not happiness. Papyrus stands and he follows the movement, trying to keep his face blank as Papyrus frowns. It’s upset, it’s almost spiteful. He hates being told what he can’t do. In that way, they’re both so similar.

“Why not?” Slim shakes his head, goes to leave, but Papyrus steps in front of him, blocking his path. “No. You’re not leaving until you can tell me why!”

He sidesteps him. The door is right there. Through the window he can see the flakes of snow gently falling to the ground. Papyrus grabs his arm, tight, refuses to let go even as he tries to tug away. He turns and sees the look of hurt in the other’s eyes. In the corner of his sockets glistens the slight magic of tears. He wants to reach out and wipe them away, apologize, do everything he can to fix it.

Push harder.

“Because,” he says, forcing his face into a snarl, “you’re just so pathetic.”

Papyrus’s sockets widen, his grip loosens, and Slim takes the opportunity to yank his arm away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Press further.

“You go around, thinking you can help, thinking that you matter, but you don’t. You can’t.” He turns because he can’t stand to look at the heartbreak in Papyrus’s eyes, at the hurt. “I’ve put up with it for long enough. I can’t deal with your shit any longer. You’re more annoying than anything.”

And then he walks away, back out the door. Papyrus doesn’t stop him, doesn’t say anything as he leaves and slams the door behind himself hard enough that the snow gathered on the top of the house is disturbed, clumps falling down to leave holes in the fresh snow. He passes the window as he walks by and he can’t help but look inside. Papyrus isn’t looking at him but staring at the floor. His face is blank, expressionless, but Slim can see a few clear tears leaving wet trails down his cheekbones. He turns away, hurries into the back to the machine and then he’s gone like it had never even happened.

Razz is standing there when he gets back, arms crossed over his chest. “Well?”

Slim rolls his head on his shoulders. He wants to scream. “I did it.”

Razz nods, satisfied. The air crackles with magic as he lifts his hand, a few bones forming in the air before he sends them flying to the machine. They embed themselves deep in the metal with a loud crunch and a crackle of electricity. It sparks for a few moments, warning signs and error messages running over the screen embedded in the side before it finally switches off. Slim stares at the machine, now just a hunk of metal and wires.

His gaze makes Razz sigh. “You know it was for the best, Papyrus.” He doesn’t respond. “You were going soft.” Repairs would be nearly impossible. Finding any parts that hadn’t already been scalvaged by Undyne was just a hopeful dream. “You could get yourself killed.”

At that he finally looks at his brother. His hands are shaking and he wants to grab something and slam it against the wall like he used to, taking a chair and swinging it over his head just for the satisfaction of having it break in his hands. He’s shaking. His magic feels unsteady and despite any progress he may have made the past couple of months he wants nothing more than to sink a needle into the bones on his arm.

Razz scoffs, but it’s less angry and more annoyed. “You’re crying.”

He reaches a hand up and wipes his cheekbone and damn, he is. That’s real fucking unfortunate. His awareness of it just makes the tears come faster. He folds his jacket over his hands and presses the sleeves into his sockets, fighting to keep the hiccup out of his breaths. “So I am,” he says. It’s shakier than he would like.

Another sigh. “You see now? You never used to cry.” He was usually too doped up to do much more than smile and just follow whatever Razz told him to do. “You’ve been too merciful because of him.”

It’s his own fault. He should have known better. Someone tried to kill him, came at him, and he beat them within an inch of their life before he thought of Papyrus and his smiles and his kindness and “It really only takes one person to make a difference!” and he let them go with a warning, watched them run away with snow kicking up behind their heels. They’d gone on a killing spree, desperate to prove their own pride after being beaten, and they managed to handle it but the moment Razz found out why-

He laughs, rubbing his sockets harder. It hurts slightly, burns with the friction. “Yeah. My bad.” He grins, drops his hands to his sides. He feels hollow and worthless. His mind keeps flicking back to the look on Papyrus’s face, at the tremble of the other’s hand he had felt when he’d gripped his sleeve.

Razz stares at him for a few more moments before he sighs and turns away, marching up the stairs. His steps are smooth and casual. Commanding. “You’ll thank me later. I’m keeping you alive.”

Slim doesn’t respond, waits for the sound of the door shutting behind him. It was for the best. He doesn’t give a fuck about himself, someone could slowly grind him to dust with a nail file against his bones until he’s just a pile that needs to be swept up and he wouldn’t give a damn about it. But he could hurt Papyrus. The very thought makes him want to vomit, but he’s not sure if it’s emotion or the fact that he hasn’t eaten anything since Razz first told him what he had to do a few days earlier. He leans against the wall, back scraping the concrete as he collapses to the ground.

It was for the best.

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shrimpcache · 3 years

Text

Journal 6/16/21

wuhwuhwuhw

hello imaginary person i talk to in my head! time for you to be a mysterious character that i talk to in my journals instead. Happy times have struck!!! great times wonderous times exciting thrilling times!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my passport came in last week!!! I get to go to italy and i dont have to worry about flying to vermont! just straight to paris and venice! Im so excited i dont even know what to expect but im ready for it despite the looming plane phobias. i cant believe ill be gone for basically 3 weeks,,i hope my mom doesnt ruin my fish tank lmao. i love all my shrimp in there. anyways thats cool stuff right im gonna go to stream of consciousness babyyyyyyyyyy oh yeah.

So! good things are happening but ive also been getting some feelings abt my friends all being in relationships besides me lmao. literally all of them. except adam but he can pull whenever he wants and hes always talkin abt how he matched with another milf on tinder (good for him). but like,,,when all of your closest friends have turned their attention to their partners i eventually end up feeling left out. how cant i? sitting in a small apartment living room in the dark, sitting solo while everyone pairs off and slowly turns their bodies away from me and gravity sucks them into whatever black hole appeared between them. Im not jealous of the relationships or anything, im actually really happy that all my friends are finding happiness in their romantic pursuits at last. Im glad that they all seemed to find what they needed in one person; they found what they were looking for, at least. But can you see where i begin to fall through the cracks? where i begin to delve? Im so happy for them and it makes me guilty to know that despite their happiness im left to think, “what about me?”

It’s not about me. and It’s okay that it’s not; my world isnt going to end because my friends have boyfriends now. It just awakens this old insecurity, i think, that has been around forever. It’s not simple to lay out either- or maybe it is and it just gets tangled up in the big ball of yarn that is my brain and emotional thoughts. For one, i’ve never experienced the happiness they have gained. Envy? is that it? when you desire that which someone else has, wanting it for yourself? I’ve never been able to kiss my partner, hold their hand, or even validate that i exist to them outside a computer screen. It’s always been state lines and homophobic parents, and im always just a friend that moved away. A friend to strangers, and assigned Girlfriend with a capital G whenever i decide my feelings could be going somewhere. I like somebody, i find them interesting, funny, they think im funny, and we both slowly fall for the way our personalities click together. So why is it that when we begin dating that I cease to be anything besides Girlfriend? Can’t i remain complex? cant we remain people? i dont want to say i love you yet, i dont want to just send memes about loving my girlfriend. Thats not why i fell for them, why does it always go that way? Why can’t i have someone who sees me, knows me, understands me face to face, and still wants me? who wants to hold my hand? who wants skinship, quality time, who i can spend long drives with singing or staring out the window. I wish i could feel it, just once. just once. id just like to know somebody wants me, thats all.

And then there’s the second half- inch by inch it feels like this false notion i have of being unwantable creeps in and puts down roots. It feels like my lungs squeeze together when i begin to think about it; i dont think im ugly, or unlikeable per se, but that must mean there’s something, right? Something about me that makes loving me that way impossible. Something wrong with me. Ive always just thought that there’s something so deep inside of me that is wrong, and everybody can see it but me. thats why they dont love me. thats why they dont think of me when im not around. thats why i can never push past this wall of ‘good person, good friend’. Maybe its just because im a lesbian in north carolina, maybe its because im right and something about me is a deal breaker. undesirable. thats how i feel. nobody wants someone like me. nobody wants to look at a body like mine. nobody wants to know what im scared of.

thats false, of course. but i mean...ive found comfort in my friends. i know they love me, and if i make space for myself to talk, they’ll let me. but they aren’t what im talking about. im talking about a romantic partner!!!! im not going to keep going in circles, but maybe its why i choke up at a few of mitski’s lyrics in class of 2013 and bag of bones. and abbey. man i feel those fucking songs. i could go on forever about the things my mind things when im by myself but i think ill end it here. this was mostly complaining but i promise my happiness about travelling with my best friend is stronger than my insecurity about romantic pursuits at the moment.

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