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mieromaestro · 1 year

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finally found pt.1

Summary: Y/n and Marshall have a fight. This time it is a serious conflict. He's almost disappointed in the relationship again, but this time it's different. He knows you're special and can't just lose you. Y/n is a celebrity too.

warning: 18+

“I can't believe it. I've trusted you for so many months and I stumbled into betrayal again!”

“You need to hear me. I didn't cheat on you yesterday or ever. It's just that…”

“…I found you making out with him in his car?”

“Marshall! That bastard got me drunk. He wanted me to sleep with him, he wanted to take advantage of me, Marshall!”

“And you're happy about that?”

You slapped him on the cheek.

“How can you say that?!” You cried out in frustration as you looked at his face. “I was insanely scared, I was afraid, but I couldn't do anything!!! I couldn't move because of the crap he gave me.”

Marshall laughed, very bitterly.

“You're really good at manipulating me. You know, I thought you were different, not like all the other whores who betrayed me and hurt me. But it turns out you're not. You're even worse. You got under my skin…”

“I didn't betray you, Marshall.” Your voice trembled, tears dripping to the floor, but you continued to speak insistently. You reached for his head but he roughly intercepted your hand.

“Don't do this to me.” You said, looking into his eyes. There was always so much pain and loneliness in them. It wasn't in the last few months when you were able to build a relationship. He was different. He was so much happier. You were glad that you were the reason why. But now everything was falling apart before your eyes.

“You'd better go.” He said in a cold tone.

You looked up into his eyes in disbelief. Was he really that angry? You couldn't move because of the chilling cold that enveloped you. With trembling hands you began to gather your things. Everything was like a fog.

Now you just couldn't contain your resentment that HE didn't believe you. Tears came flooding out of your eyes again. Grabbing your suitcase, you walked silently out of the house with one last glance at Marshall.

The incident that had happened to you had been televised and broadcast 24/7. It was the high-profile event of the week. Of course, the pop diva was caught in a car with another guy. All the media wondered if there was a breakup with Eminem and how he survived the "betrayal." Every time you threw a pillow or the first object you could find at the screen at the mention of your name.

Marshall didn't call or write. You went crazy with uncertainty, leaving numerous calls and messages until you realized it was useless to do so.

But you had to endure the embarrassment even worse. Reporters found out about the harassment. To the old footage that didn't really say anything was added a video that a fan who recognized you shot.

In the video, you could clearly see that you were almost unconscious, and the bastard was kissing you. It was painful for you to look at the recorded video, as if you'd been humiliated and shamed all over again. Tears formed in your eyes, which you wiped away.

Suddenly you heard the doorbell ring. Not knowing who could come at such a late hour, you went to the door, by which there was still an unpacked suitcase. When you opened the door, you were stunned. The one standing in front of you was Marshall.

“You forgot this at my place.” He was holding a sweatsuit. But not just any sweatsuit, of which you had many, but the one he had given you. It was too big for you because it was his original sweatsuit. You still stood there in silence, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you.” You reached out and took the sweatsuit, pulling it, but Marshall wouldn't give it back. You looked shyly into his face.

“He won't bother you again.” He said. You looked at him perplexed, and suddenly you saw a blood stain on his eyebrow. You were horrified to imagine what Marshall's words meant. A fight. You didn't even want to ask how he'd found him. With his connections and capabilities, it wasn't hard.

“You shouldn't have, I…” Suddenly you felt his hand sharply lifting your face by the chin.

“Look at me. Did he do anything to you?”

You couldn't fight the rush of feeling that came over you. He was there again, you could feel his touch. But an unpleasant realization stung your heart. He came, but only after the news broke.

“So you believed those weasel reporters, but not me?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You only came here after those videos went viral in the media.”

He suddenly looked in the direction of the TV where the sound was still coming from. There was another story on Y/n.

“I didn't know about that.”

You frowned. “Then why did you come here, Marshall?”

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you right away. Jealousy blinds me.”

“What made you change?”

He came very close, and stared intently into your eyes. That look had been familiar to you for a long time, and you could feel your breath catching.

“I knew it was crazy to leave you. I knew I would kill myself with it. But I can't take it anymore.” His eyes filled with anger. “It's like I can't control myself. Every time I see assholes stretching their arms toward you, I forget that you belong to me.”

You looked up and put your hand on his neck, gently pulling him closer. Marshall let you pull him to you.

“Nothing could ever happen between me and anyone else.” You smiled. “You know how long I've been trying to win you over. You think I'm just going to back out?”

His hands dropped to your waist and began slowly stroking your skin through the fabric.

“Picked up a lost dog and turned him into an obedient puppy?”

The corners of your lips spread apart and the sincerest smile appeared on your face. He adored your smile because it always reflected your true feelings, your happiness when you were with him. Marshall took your chin in his hands, and you closed your eyes, still smiling.

“I don't know how you do it, but you made me come back to you again.”

At first it seemed like your relationship was only for a moment. Guys like Marshall don't usually pay attention to girls like you, you thought. He was too distant and inaccessible. At times his behavior remained so. But you knew the real him, you saw a side of him that was hidden from others.

You reached forward and kissed him. He moved his hand around your neck and pulled you closer. The other hand that was still resting on your waist moved lower, and you exhaled in a kiss. You were both insatiable, you two haven't had enough of each other.

You buried your fingers in his hair and felt Marshall lead you toward the inside of the apartment. He began to run his hands over your shoulders, back, waist and hips and you heard his labored breathing.

“I fuckin’ love your body”. He said hoarsely.

You pressed your lips to his neck and left a little hickey there. You knew it was his erogenous zone. Marshall growled, and his movements became more sloppy. He took off your blouse and unhooked your bra, slowly running his palm from your neck to your cleavage and your breasts.

You tried to keep up with him and pulled off your favorite leather jacket of his, running your palms over his broad shoulders. You didn't notice how you reached the bed and Marshall pushed you onto the soft surface and threw off his shirt. You reached up and pulled him to you. Your lips met again.

Marshall deliberately seized the initiative and pressed you against the bed. It was turning him on, you knew it. He pulled away from your lips and grabbed your jams holding them in one position for a moment and hovering over you. You ran your hand over his chest and taut belly, your hand lingered on his belt and you pulled him toward you. He grabbed your hips and lifted them up. You felt how hard he was and you let out a moan.

“Honey, I want you to do something for me.”

When you looked at him, you willingly leaned forward and unbuckled his belt. Suddenly Marshall intercepted you and switched places. Now he was on the bed and you were hovering over him.

To be continued

#eminem imagine #eminem #eminem x reader #eminem x you #marshall mathers

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bitch-for-bo · 3 years

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"Worried I'll Replace You?", "No." (Ushijima Wakatoshi x chubby reader)

TAKES PLACE POST- TIMESKIP

Despite the fact that you and Ushijima have been dating for years, he still doesn't want to introduce you to the team. You find out that it isn't because he's embarrassed, it's for selfish reasons of his own.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY

When you had told Wakatoshi that you were going to be attending the Japan National team’s practice later that day, you didn’t expect him to react. Why would you? Toshi rarely reacted to anything you said in explicit ways, he was a stoic man. Sure, he was a stoic man that you happened to love, but a stoic man nonetheless.

You had been curling your hair in the bathroom mirror as Wakatoshi took his morning shower when you brought the fact that you’d be attending his practice up.

“I’m going to be there with Kuroo-san planning some advertising strategies.”

“Do you have to be with Kuroo?” Wakatoshi’s deep voice rumbled from behind the shower curtain.

“Why?” you asked, leaning against the counter and looking at the shower curtain through the mirror, seeing Toshi’s large outline through the light material.

“I don’t appreciate the way that Kuroo speaks to you. He isn’t your boyfriend, I am.” He replied before ducking his head beneath the showerhead to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Wakatoshi’s blunt statement. No matter how many times you told him that Kuroo was only kidding when he teased you, Toshi was still unnecessarily possessive of you.

Not that you minded. It was nice to feel protected by the powerful ace, even if that meant having to almost hold him back when he saw Kuroo playfully ‘flirting’ with you.

The shower turned off and the curtain was slung back, revealing a fully nude Wakatoshi. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist as your eyes followed him lustfully in the mirror, admiring how the beads of water ran down his broad, tanned back as the muscles flexed and relaxed with his movement.

“I also don’t want my teammates meeting you.” He said, walking up behind you beside you to the counter to continue his morning hygiene routine.

You scoffed lightly at that. You knew that his words held no ill intent or malice, but if Ushi would have said that sort of thing in public, and someone overheard the conversation, they would’ve thought that Ushijima was embarrassed by you. So much so that he didn’t want his team meeting you. Again, deep down you knew this wasn’t the case, but that didn’t stop the small ball of dread from making its way into your heart as you began to question if Toshi really was embarrassed by you. You knew that the only way to find out what he meant was to ask, or else you would be upset the rest of the day and lord only knows that Wakatoshi was too bad at verbal communication to ask you why you were mad at him.

“Why?” You teased, grinning at your boyfriend in the mirror despite the small pang of hurt in your chest. “Scared I’ll find someone more attractive to replace you with?”

“Why would a be scared of that? I am the most capable partner for you on the team.” He replied, turning to look at you in the eyes with an expression of slight confusion.

You couldn’t help but giggle at your big dumb boyfriend.

“Awful confident about that aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

You just laughed more, stepping towards him and craning your neck to place a small kiss on his jaw. It was mean to bully Toshi like that, especially since he took every word you said so literally, but it was too fun not to.

“How about this,” you offered, wrapping your arms around his bare hips and encouraging him to do the same to you, forming a loose hug between the two of you as you stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “I’ll go do my job with Kuroo, but you don’t have to tell the team I’m your girlfriend. We can both pretend we’re strangers.”

You weren’t gonna lie, you really wanted Wakatoshi to introduce you as his significant other to his friends, after all, you’d been dating for almost 5 years, but you understood that PDA made him uncomfortable so you could deal with your own butthurt feelings if it meant that he was more comfortable.

“Are you sure?” Wakatoshi asked, his eyes looking down at yours, seemingly into your soul.

“Yes.” You smiled, kissing his chin, “Who knows,” you added, “it might make for some hot foreplay too…”

Wakatoshi chuckled and kissed your forehead, letting his lips rest against the skin for a couple of seconds before pulling away and detaching the two of you from your ‘loose hug’.

“When do you have to go?” You asked, glancing at the bedside clock that read 5:50 AM.

“I have to be there by 6:30.” He responded. You groaned in reply, turning back to your own routine as he moved out of the bathroom to get dressed so he could go to practice.

You absolutely hated the days where Toshi had to go to practice early in the morning. He would wake up at almost 4 AM to go on his jog. And of course, being the huge oaf that he is, he’d always wake you up with him as he tried to maneuver his bulky frame out of bed. It wasn’t too much trouble though, because usually, you would just go back to sleep. The best part was when Ushijima got back from his jog and joined you in the shower for some pre-practice ‘endurance training’.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened today. You had to be a work kind of early too, so you had already taken your shower and done your makeup by the time Wakatoshi was back.

You were almost finished curling your hair when Wakatoshi came to wish you goodbye, wrapping his large arms around your waist as he pulled you into one of his kisses that never failed to take your breath away and leave you weak in the knees.

After he had gone, you finished getting ready in the bathroom and went to decide on something to wear.

You wanted to wear something nicer than usual to make a good impression on the team, even if Ushi wasn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend. It was rare for Wakatoshi to see you in your work clothes, so you also wanted to wear something that would get his attention, and if you were lucky occupy his mind all day until he could rush home and fuck you.

You settled on a black lace blouse tucked into a pair of red slacks. Kuroo had told you that the two of you would get ‘bonus points’ with the bosses if your clothes matched the team’s colors. Plus you knew that Wakatoshi loved the way that the outfit looked on you. The top displayed an appropriate yet sexy amount of skin with its black velvet bodice and long lace sleeves and the high waisted slacks hugged your curvy hips and made your ass and legs look amazing.

You looked in the mirror, admiring your ability to look professional and badass at the same time. If only your highschool self could see you now. Highschool You wouldn’t have been able to see the way that the outfit complemented your plush form. She would’ve been focused on the small yet noticeable bump of your stomach underneath the slacks, or the way that the light hit the stretch marks on your arms, making them visible despite being covered in black lace.

It had taken a long time to love yourself, you’d gone through the first twenty years of your life despising how you looked. Finally, you learned to accept who you were and with the help of your friends and family, you learned that you were worth more than what YOU saw in the mirror.

You remembered the first couple of times you went out with friends after gaining your confidence. They convinced you to accompany them to a small sports bar. You remembered that night fairly clearly, you had worn a flowy maroon blouse with a pair of high waisted black jeans and a pair of 3-inch nude heels. It was one of the first times that you had looked in the mirror and liked what you saw.

You and your friends drank and watched the games on the TVs that were situated around the bar, a different sport playing on almost every one of them. You remembered that you were attracted to a volleyball game that was one. You had played volleyball a lot with your brothers when you were young and over the years, the fondness towards the sport never died. You took a seat in front of the television, sitting next to a tall, slender red-head who was nursing what smelt like a vodka cherry limeade. Your eyes were fixed on the TV, smiling as the players volleyed back and forth, admiring the strength and power it must take to perform like that.

“It’s impressive isn’t it.” The redhead next to you spoke, looking at you with wide, analytic eyes. You nodded, your eyes barely leaving the screen to give him a quick ‘hello’ smile.

“You like volleyball?” You asked, giggling a little as the man tilted his head at you.

“I used to……” He said wistfully, taking a long sip of his limeade that he happened to be drinking through a straw. “I played in high school. I quit cuz I knew that I’d never be serious enough to play like them.” He waved towards the players on the TV before continuing, “My buddy is still obsessed with it though. He’s in the bathroom right now.”

You nodded, you weren’t sure why the stranger was telling you so much, you figured that it was kind of due to the alcohol so you let him speak, plus you were enjoying the conversation.

“That’s cool.” You smiled, bringing your own drinks up to your lips as the two of you continued to watch the game in silence for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, he looked over.

“Listen,” He said, “my friend that I mentioned, the one in the bathroom…”

You nodded.

“He’s had his eyes on you the whole night.”

As soon as he said those words, your face lit up with the biggest blush you had ever had. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ before opening and closing like a fish. No one had ever looked, let alone stared! at you (to your knowledge). You had no idea how to react seeing as this was your first time anyone was so brash with you.

“I-I’m sorry- are you sure that it’s me and not one of my friends?” You asked, still in disbelief that anyone could find you attractive enough to stare.

“Of course I’m sure!” the redhead confirmed, his eyes scrunching as he looked back at you in just as much confusion as you looked at him.

He wondered if you were completely oblivious to all of the attention you’d been getting from the inhabitants of the bar. You looked gorgeous with your long legs, your thick thighs…..hell he would’ve approached you if it hadn’t been for his best friend expressing his interest in you first.

“It’s actually kind of a miracle that you sat here.” The redhead continued, “Wakatoshi isn’t very good at talking to people. Unless it’s about volleyball, which you also like!”

The blush on your face was unrelenting at the thought of a guy approaching you. A guy that you didn’t even know if they really existed. This guy you were talking to might have been a complete crazy who had gotten a little too much to drink.

“Well, I-” You started, only to be interrupted by possibly the deepest voice you’d ever heard, coming from behind you.

“Tendou, who is this in my seat?”

That’s how it all started. In those first couple of minutes, you were terrified of Ushijima. His face was so serious. Handsome, yes, but also very serious. Tendou had acted as a buffer that first night, giving you a smooth transition and kind of teaching you how to talk to Wakatoshi.

Over the next couple of months, you and Ushijima went on dates. Every week on Friday. He would pick you up at 7 pm sharp without fail. He never talked much, he much preferred to listen to you, always watching your face closely as you spoke. He made you feel safe and listened to and before long, five years had passed and the two of you were living in domestic bliss.

The sound of the phone broke you out of your little daydream, Kuroo’s caller ID flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Where are you, Kitten? I’m at the gym. I see your super ace boyfriend here, but not you.”

“I’m coming” you replied, pulling a pair of black block heels on as you walked out the front door, “Also, I promised Wakatoshi that no one would tell the team that I’m his girlfriend so please behave!”

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

“Waaaah?? Girlfriend??” Hinata Shoyou exclaimed, leaning closer towards Bokuto who had just gathered the team while Ushijima was in the bathroom to tell them all what he had overheard from Kuroo’s phone call.

“She’ll be here today!” The owl-like hitter whisper shouted, excitement practically seeping out of his pores.

“I can’t believe Mr. Stone Solid has a girlfriend and I don’t” Miya Atsumu groaned, hiding his face in shame. As the team started to speculate about what she would look like.

“I bet she’s really pretty”

“Dumbass Hinata! Of course, she’ll be pretty! Why would Ushijima date her if she wasn’t!!” “The real question is, why would she choose Mr. no-emotion. He has the emotional range of a crayon!”

They all nodded at Atsusmu’s statement, even Iwaizumi, and Aran, who had been silent in the conversation regarding Ushiwaka’s mystery girl.

They all flinched at the sound of the gym door opening and sprang away from the huddle as they heard Ushijima coming into the gym. They all had quickly gone back to practicing as if they hadn’t just been gossiping like middle schoolers, and Ushijima being the oblivious idiot that he is, noticed nothing as he picked up a volleyball, wondering when his girlfriend would be arriving with her work partner.

Not even ten minutes later the gym doors opened again and in walked the coach, Kuroo, and you.

“Holy shit!” Atsumu whispered to Hinata, imaginary blood bursting out of his nose as he took in your figure.

The team was enraptured with you from the start, even Kageyama had stopped setting to look at you. They couldn’t stop looking at you, eyes drinking you in disbelief as to why you were with someone with Ushijima. And while you didn’t notice all of the male attention since you were currently talking to Kuroo and the coach, Wakatoshi did and a mix of possessiveness and jealousy burst into his chest.

His eyes roamed your body, fists clenching at how devilishly perfect you looked in your outfit. And even though Ushijima wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, he could figure out that you’d worn the outfit just to make him feel like this.

He looked across the faces of his teammates, even the athletic trainer’s eyes were on your body as you made your way towards the court, your heels clicking lightly on the glossy wooden floor.

No one was really listening to the coach’s words as he introduced you and Kuroo to the team. They hadn’t even heard the coach ask them to introduce themselves until Ushijima began to speak.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He said, shaking Kuroo’s outstretched hand and then yours, staring deep into your eyes.

‘Just wait till tonight’ his dark eyes read, making something in you keen in arousal.

“Well you all know me, this is my associate, Y/N,” Kuroo said, causing you to break Wakatoshi’s gaze. It jarred the others out of their dazes as well.

“Hello.” You said brightly, smiling. You and Kuroo then went down the line of them, shaking all of their hands and learning their names.

“Are you a model?” Hinata asked, his eyes wide as you towered over him in your heels. You almost looked like a goddess to the short spiker.

“No, but thank you Hinata.” You laughed, shaking his hand gently. You shook your head in amusement and moved to the man standing next to him. A dark-haired man with a blush dancing across his cheeks and his mouth turned down in an attempted frown.

“Y-you are tall,” Kageyama mumbled, holding out his hand to shake. You merely nodded and responded with an ‘it’s mostly the heels. It’s nice to meet you’

You continued to greet them one by one, feeling extremely awkward as they one by one stumbled over introducing themselves. You wondered what was wrong with them, painfully ignorant of the fact that they were all in awe of you.

‘I kind of see why he didn’t want me meeting them’ you thought.

“Aright!” Kuroo exclaimed as soon as the two of you had given all of them handshakes and introductions were finished. “Y/N and I will just be casually monitoring the practice and thinking of advertising strategies. Anything to add?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Sorry for the intrusion!” You said, smiling at all of them once again, “Please play like normal and do your best!”

Ushijima scowled, he could pretty much hear all of his teammates’ brains exploding.

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

It was a long but successful day, you thought, sliding your key into the front door of your apartment. Wakatoshi was home, the team was let out at 2:30 but you and Kuroo had headed back to the office for a couple of more hours before you came home.

“Toshi?” you called out into the seemingly empty apartment. There was no smell of dinner being cooked or sounds of the shower or sink running. You wondered where he had gone. Tendou wasn’t back in town, so unless Ushijima was out with the team you hadn’t the slightest idea where he was.

You flicked on the lights.

“AHH!” You screamed, hurling your messenger bag at the figure sitting in your living room. Your hands coming up to search for something else to protect yourself with. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you sighed. “Wakatoshi what the fuck? You scared me!”

Wakatoshi said nothing, a frown painting his face while his eyebrows were angrily scrunched towards the midline of his face.

“Toshi?”

“That is why I didn’t want you to meet my team,” he said, taking you completely by surprise.

“What?” you asked, confusion prominent on your face.

“I didn’t want them looking at you like that. You’re mine.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. Toshi, they were just being nice to me. That’s all” you replied sweetly. A small smile worming its way onto your face at your boyfriend’s childish jealousy.

“You are mine.” He repeated, a bit more assertively this time, getting up and walking towards you.

“I know Toshi.” You whispered soothingly, your arms opening up and accepting his huge form into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your perfume as he sighed in content at your affection.

“I felt jealous as they looked at you. Why did you wear those clothes?”

“I wore them for you Toshi…” You whispered in his ear.

“Oh. I see.” He said, his hands slowly beginning to draw firm circles in your lower back.

“Why were you jealous Toshi?” You whispered sweetly, you couldn’t stop the sly smile from gracing your face. As mean as it was, you loved it when Wakatoshi got all possessive like this.

“They looked at you.”

“People are allowed to look at me Toshi, how would they talk to me if they weren’t?”

“They’re not allowed to look at you the way they did. Only I can. Only I own you.”

You felt your stomach twist with arousal at Toshi’s deep voice, whispering into your neck. You knew that he didn’t realize the effect that he had on you when he talked like that, but you couldn’t help the want from building in your core as your thighs pressed together.

“Show me Toshi.” You breathed out, your arms tightly wrapping around his neck, pulling his face even closer to your body, “Show me you own me.” Wakatoshi obliged, groaning lowly as his mouth began pressing bruising kisses to your neck. You tilted your head back, giving his rough lips wider access as you let him guide you into the bedroom, pressing you up against a wall.

His hands were gripping your soft hips, pulling you closer to him as his hips rolled against you. You could feel the hard outline of his cock through the thin sweatpants he had on, making your mouth water.

“Shit Toshi…” you moaned, your arms trying desperately to pull his body against you. You reached down between the two of you to feel him through his sweats. As you pressed your palm to it, his hands came down and caught both of your wrists before bringing them above your head.

“Did I say you could touch me?” He growled, his tone changing from the usually even, calm tone, to one of domination.

“Please Toshi….” You keened, a light whine of frustration slipping out of your lips.

Wakastoshi didn’t move, his eyes roaming down your body, taking in your heaving chest practically begging to be bitten and sucked, your thighs pressed together around his muscular leg that had forced its way between your soft ones. He couldn’t’ stop the surge of incredible pride that swelled in his chest as he looked down at you, hunger evident in his eyes. Your pupils were wide and blown out, lips parted and gasping for breath.

‘All mine’ he thought, slowly and firmly taking your mouth with his, demanding that you submit to him. He loved how pliant and submissive your body was beneath him. He loved how you trusted him with your pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t disappoint.

“Fuck!” you gasped as he pulled off of you, allowing your lungs to breathe in deeply, relishing at the feeling of air. Your panties were sopping wet, and you were afraid that if you didn’t take them off soon, your slacks would be in the same boat.

“Please……” You begged, your hips bucking pitifully against Wakatoshi’s firm grip. You needed relief, your brain was beyond clouded with want and the only end in sight was Wakatoshi fucking you hard and deep against the wall.

“What do you want Love?” He asked, his baritone voice invading your brain, making you involuntarily arch your back towards him, a breathy plea slipping from your lips.

“Fuck me Toshi…”

Without a word, Wakatoshi tore your blouse down the front. A small surprised shriek leaving your mouth.

“Toshi! Yo-”

“I will buy you a new one. Their filthy eyes ruined this one.” He growled before reaching down and doing the same to your slacks. You couldn’t even be mad at the incredibly hot strength of your boyfriend. Your shredded clothing fell to the floor as the super ace yanked down your soaked panties, his fingers sliding through the wet folds as he groaned softly against your ear.

“Open your legs.” He commanded, gently yet firmly grasping your thighs as he guided them apart. His fingers glided over the outside of your pussy, dipping in and pressing against your clit while his other hand fondled your breasts, pinching at the nipples.

“Toshi….” you whimpered, yearning for the feeling of his thick fingers inside of you and his mouth on your chest. He seemingly understood your pleas as his fingers slowly thrust into you, stretching you out with two straight of the bat.

“Fuck!” you squeaked, not expecting the brutally fast pace that followed.

“I will not be gentle tonight. When you see the team tomorrow, they will know you belong to me.” He growled, mercilessly finger fucking you with two fingers, using a third to draw small circles around your clit.

You were gasping for air as your head tossed back against the wall. There were no words to express how you felt, even if there were you wouldn’t be able to say them with how Wakatoshi was fucking every breath out of your body.

He didn’t let up, not until you were almost to climax, your nails digging into the meat of his bare shoulders. One of your legs was wrapped around his waist as three of his fingers pressed in and out of your g-spot at lightning speed. You could feel both of your thighs shaking under your body weight, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold your one thigh up around him.

“Wakatoshi....please….” you cried, raking your fingers down his shoulder blades, reveling in the way that they flexed against your grip. “I’m so close!”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he asked, taking his fingers out of you and turning you around before pushing your top half down against your vanity in the corner of the room. You could feel your dripping pussy exposed at a new angle as Wakatoshi quickly kicked off his own pants, stroking his thick cock in his hand before stepping up behind you and rubbing it against your slit, wetting it with your juices.

“Yes, please!. Pleasepleaseplease!” you babbled, the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing up and down your pussy becoming too much to bear.

With a single thrust, Wakatoshi was completely inside of you, ripping a scream from your lungs as his cock split you in half. Usually, he took his time, but you could tell that tonight he wanted to show you that you truly belonged to him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, thrusting his hips into you at an intermediate pace. He wanted to teach you who you belonged to, but he didn’t want to hospitalize you by going full speed right away.

“Mmmm….” you moaned, “love the feeling of your cock baby.” you tried to bring your hips back to meet his thrusts but were immediately stopped by his big hands pressing them into the wood of the vanity.

He continued his onslaught, snapping his hips and thrusting in and out of you, quickly building up to a seemingly inhuman pace. He wove his finger through your hair and pulled your head up to look at him through the mirror of the vanity.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He demanded. You opened your mouth in a silent moan as your eyes were met with the sight of him fucking you into the piece of furniture. Your face was red with exertion, your hair sticking with sweat. It wasn’t a superficially erotic sight (at least in your opinion) but the fucked out expression on your face was a dead give-away of how badly you enjoyed Wakatoshi dominating you like this.

Wakatoshi groaned, the feeling of his cock pushing in and out of your tight hole as he brutally fucked you was glorious. His eyes never left your form in the mirror as he stared at the way your pretty tits and stomach bounced with each push of his hips.

Fucking you in the mirror was his favorite was to take you, the ability to watch your face, your tits/stomach, and your ass/thighs all at the same time was quite possibly his favorite thing in the world. He felt himself getting close as his eyes continued to watch your blissed-out face through the glass.

One of his hands reached down and his fingers began to circle your clit again, making your eyes, that you hadn’t even realized were closed, spring open and another cry slip from your lips.

“Ooooooh…. Toshi…:” you panted. “I’m close…”

“Tell me who you belong to.” He growled, his free hand coming up and wrapping around your neck as his lips pressed against your rapid pulse. You could feel yourself beginning to lose yourself, you were so close to orgasm that tears began to run down your face.

“You! Toshi- only you!”

“Are you sure?” he asked meanly, flicking his thumb out maliciously over the oversensitive bud of your clit.

“F-fuck YES! Fuck yes Toshi….. p-please....let me cum!”

“Cum.”

Your body began to practically convulse as your orgasm ripped through your body, leaving your vision white as you shook with pleasure, you could feel yourself clenching around Wakatoshi’s cock as he moaned deeply and began to cum inside of you, letting himself be milked by your walls.

You cried as you came down from your high, your legs feeling like jelly as Ushijima’s strong arms wrapped around your body, supporting you and making sure you didn’t drop to the floor from exhaustion.

He gently pulled out of you and carried you to the bathroom. He set you down on the counter as he went to turn on the shower, the sight of his broad back covered in scratch marks making you bask in the glow of your orgasm even more.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked guiltily, concerned eyes sweeping your body worriedly. You let out a half giggle/ half hiccup and shook your head.

“I love you Toshi.” You whispered, opening your arms so he could pick you up and carry you to the shower with him, which he contently did, his thick biceps flexing against your back as he held your body against him under the hot stream of water.

“I love you too. You are mine.” He said as he lathered shampoo into your hair. You smiled, shivering at the feeling of his fingers against your scalp and his words of love in your mind.

“I’m yours.” You said sweetly, before turning in his grasp to return the favor.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima

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lilacsandwhiskey · 3 years

Note

I’m currently obsessed with tiktok and tom holland so I’m obsessed with imagines about both. i think it would be cute if you do a tiktok trend with the boys but like the world doesn’t know about reader and Tom so people are shipping her with one of the guys? like from the tiktok? Tom maybe gets jealous or something ? idk i’m rambling haha

Thanks for the request anon :) I hope this was okay!

Heartbreak Anniversary

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: mentions of pandemic and COVID, cussing, maybe suggestive at points???, angst, jealous Tom, uhhh sucky writing and no proofreading so bare w ya girl n kinda longer than I anticipated but here we are :)

Notes: italics = flashback

If someone asked you how you managed to get a life as crazy as your’s, you’d simply reply “just meet Harrison and become best friends.” You almost couldn’t fathom what your life looked like right now - you sat in the kitchen with your two friends, Harry and Tuwaine, who had fallen into the pits of TikTok with you, while Harrison, Sam, and your beloved, Tom, sat in the living room, screeching at the television as they watched a game. All of this, while in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.

You didn’t officially live with the boys, but you might as well have. Your apartment was only minutes away, but with how communal your living situation was, Tom simply talked it over with his brothers and best friends, who didn’t even hesitate to scream yes when he asked if you could stay there. It was “safest,” he explained when he begged you to come stay for a while. So you did.

How did we get here? It all started with a little project, Harrison Osterfield, and him playing cupid.

——————————

“Clumsy, are we?” Harrison managed to balance you as you tripped over your own two feet, walking into the studio. “What makes you think that?” You huffed back, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Just get that vibe.” He replied, shrugging with a smile.

It didn’t take long for you and Harrison to practically become the best of friends. He soon was inviting you out to drinks with his friends, who immediately accepted you. Though you and Harrison’s friendship was strictly platonic, you found him itching to find out about your relationship status. “Should I even wonder, Harri?” “I mean, no. I’m just curious.” “I thought I told you before I’m not interested in a relationship right now.” You said, glaring at him with a smile. “I didn’t ask that, I was just curious. So anyway, are you coming to the pub tonight? I’m dying for you to meet my friend, Tom.” The excitement in his voice was too much to understand, but instead of questioning, you just replied with a yes.

There you were, walking through the doors of the pub at 8pm sharp. Your eyes finally spotted familiar faces who were calling out to you. You followed suit, inching your way to the booth at the back. “Y/N!” They called, urging into hugs. “Hi everyone!” You replied, taking a seat. Tuwaine was already scooting over your favorite drink towards you. “Told you we’d always take care of you! Anyway, we’re celebrating tonight. Tom’s back home!”

Your eyes landed on the curly-haired boy who had a gentle smile playing on his lips. “No need for anything big, I’m just glad to be surrounded by my favorite people.” Tom said. “Nice to meet you finally, Y/N. Glad to finally put a face to the name.” Tom held a hand out, gripping tight to yours as he shook it. Little did you know, Tom was well-aware of what your face looked like. He hadn’t been able to stop scrolling through your social media pages after Harrison had posted a picture of you, him, and Tuwaine on his story during a night out.

———————————

“So who’s this girl you’ve been posting?” Tom said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible during this conversation with his bestfriend. “Y/N, I thought I’d mentioned her to you.” Harrison said through the phone. “I don’t believe you have, are you like…” “No, no, dude, you know I’ve been talking to Grace.” “I know, but I was just worried my best friend had moved on without telling me!” “You know I would. No, she’s just a friend, we met during a project. Grace actually loves her, and so does everyone else - including your brothers. Have they not told you about her?”

Tom tried to think back to his conversations, only briefly hearing mentions of your names when he’d ask what they’d been doing. He couldn’t help but scroll through your pictures, soaking up every aspect of your life, well, only what you displayed. You had a dog, bingo. You seemed to be funny by the way you captioned your pictures, good. You seemed to have fun, love your family, and live a life that perfectly reflected how Harrison had described to him after he had came to the realization that Tom had already began crushing on you just by what he’d started telling him and the way you portrayed yourself.

Tom begged Harrison to be his wingman. Harrison practically scolded him the first few times. “I don’t want you to mess up this friendship.” “She’s not just a fling, Tom.” “Can’t you just be friends first?” Tom would settle for the last comment. “Fine, introduce us.”

————————————

Your conversations with Tom seemed so effortless that night. With too much alcohol in your system, you found yourself completely flustered by how pretty he was with his glazed eyes, rosy cheeks, and the constant giggles escaping his lips.

Though nothing ever happened that night, you found yourself spending more and more time with Tom in the coming weeks. Harrison didn’t mind as his relationship was truly flourishing with Grace. Weeks later, Tom had finally kissed you out of the blue and it changed everything. He was leaving for a few more weeks for filming, and instead of gaining the guts to make it official that night, he waited until he came back. It was the first thing he asked you when you reunited.

But, it wasn’t as simple as that. The logistics, the orchestrating, there was so much planning involved with what felt like should just be simple. Tom had fans, and sometimes they weren’t so nice. Tom wanted to protect you in every way possible. Though it was obvious you’d been hanging with the guys, since some of them had posted you, you had just figured that if you went out in public, you’d all go together and you couldn’t spend too much time just next to Tom. Posts were limited, it was all planned to a T. But you didn’t mind, because Tom made you happy and you knew it was for the best.

For a while, you did long distance. Your relationship had been based off of late night or early morning FaceTime calls, quick calls in between breaks, and short text messages throughout the day. It was hard but worth it. But this last time didn’t last near as long as others.

When word of COVID swept through the news, the world became frantic in all aspects. When everything began going into lockdown, Tom was sent straight back home from filming.

———————————

Laughter erupted between Harry, Tuwaine, and you. Tuwaine had showed you a both a video on TikTok he came across of a girl dancing in the midst of her friends to the song Heartbreak Anniversary. Though her coordination was obviously great, it was the reactions and how aggressive she was doing the dance that made it so funny.

As if on cue, Tom, Harrison, and Sam walked into the kitchen, Harrison mentioning that they couldn’t hear their program over their laughing. That’s when they found themselves gathered around the phone, joining in the laugher.

“I think we should recreate it. I think Y/N should learn the dance and be in the middle. It’ll be too good.” Harry said. “Me?” A nervous laugh escaping your lips. “For sure, we learn dances so fast, you’ll have it down in no time.” Harry was right - over the last few months, you’d formed certain hobbies with each of the boys. You had became just as close with them as Tom was, and one thing you and Harry found yourselves doing often was learning dances in the backyard, most likely disrupting the neighbors from your obnoxious cussing and laughter.

After protesting the dance, the guys had won and you were now practicing the dance. You felt so dumb, you couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t allow the boys to see it so that when you videod, it would be their fresh reactions. And that’s what it was -

The boys circled around you, ready to endure the dancing. Right before, Tom had pulled you aside and reiterated not focusing that much time on him, though he wanted you to. You agreed, understanding the circumstances considering the world still was unaware of your relationship. To everyone else, you were just some friend that came to hang out every now and then.

So when the music started, you kept that little rule in the back of your mind. You tried to spend enough time with each, trying to make them laugh which definitely worked. You added your own flair to the dance, leaning back towards each of them, causing them to spit out laughter. You still found a moment with Tom, because it’d be too obvious that you were not trying to be obvious if you didn’t (haha).

Afterwards, the guys laughed over your shoulder as they watched their own reactions. “You killed that!” Sam exclaimed.

Hours later, you all sat in the living room, engrossed in your own thing - television, telephone, reading, someone was doing something. That’s when Tuwaine busted out laughing. “Shit, these comments are ruthless!” “Hmm?” You said, not even thinking to go check on the video you’d posted. When you opened up the app, Tom was looking over your shoulder to look for himself.

“Yeah, Harrison and Y/N are def fucking”

“Y/N and Haz 👀👀👀”

“Look at the way Haz looks at her 😍 obvi in love”

The comments continued. You cocked your head, watching back at the video. There was nothing much different between your interactions other than he was laughing the most - but that was just Haz. You shook your head, laughing as everyone but Tom joined it.

“Dang, Y/N, didn’t know we cared so much about each other!” Harrison said, giggling. “Right, just so in love!” You jokingly fell back into the couch, but soon noticed that Tom was barely participating in the jokes. Instead, he was leaning back, barely cracking a smile, even when you tugged his arm. You tried to shake off his reaction, not expecting him to actually be upset.

—————————

“I think I’m going to shower, wanna join?” You pulled out some sweatpants from the drawer that you’d claimed. “Why don’t you go ask Harrison?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Excuse me?” Tom stayed silent. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, in hopes that his words were only joking but the straight face he was giving, along with no eye contact, made it clear that he was not joking.

“Are you being serious right now?” You asked quietly. You felt yourself beginning to get upset, considering you had never given him a reason to believe that for one, you’d ever cheat, and for two, that you and Harrison had ever had sex. He was well aware of the friendship that you had before Tom came along, and not only was it strictly platonic, but Grace had been in the picture the whole time.

Tom finallt replied with a shrug, which elicited rolling eyes from you. “You’re unbelievable.” You slammed the door to the bedroom, slamming the bathroom door across the hall. It may have been absurd, but in that moment you honestly were shocked. You and Tom had never really argued about something like this before - it just never showed itself as a problem. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been rumored dating each one of the boys before anyway, you didn’t know what was different.

Harrison had obviously heard the slamming of the doors, including the other boys who surrounded him. Sam pushed the television, looking around at the group, who was already exchanging looks. “Nose goes.” Tuwaine said, instantly pinning his finger to his nose, the rest of the boys following. Harrison was the last to reach his nose. “Aw, come on. You know this is probably about me.” Harrison whispered. “Guess you gotta find out.” Harry replied, shrugging.

Harrison slowly made his way to Tom’s room, slowly knocking before opening the door. Tom was laying on the bed on his phone, seeming that he was not phased by the events that seemed to have just occurred. “Tom?” “Hmm?” “What’s going on?” Harrison asked, inching closer to the bed.

Tom laid his phone on his chest with a smirk. “Why don’t you go find out?” “Seriously, Tom? Are we twelve right now?” Harrison huffed back, crossing his arms. When Tom didn’t reply, Harrison felt like tugging his hair out. It wasn’t very often that the two lads argued, but Harrison honestly couldn’t believe that THIS is what the argument was about this time.

Harrison made it clear time and time again before Tom and you had started dating that you two had been platonic from the beginning. Harrison loved you like a sister, but never anything more. Tom was well aware of that - so he didn’t understand why he was lashing out?

“Look, mate. I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but I can guarantee you, that if you keep on, Y/N isn’t going to like it. You have no right to take it out on her. You know she wouldn’t do that to you in a million years, hell, you know I’d never do that to you in a million years. If you want to be mad, be mad at me, though you have no true reason to be. Fans make assumptions all the time. You can’t possibly be upset when you’re the one who continues to vow her as a secret to the world. You orchestrate every plan with her to make sure that it looks like you’re not dating, so yeah, people might get skeptical. I’m sorry that you’re feeling insecure right now, but you have no right to accuse her of anything.” Harrison had no intentions of giving a speech, but he knew that it had to be said. Tom just looked at him, and for the first time, Harrison couldn’t get a read on him.

Harrison made his way out of the room, almost colliding with you as you came out of the bathroom. Harrison gave you a sympathetic smile before going back to the living room. Confused as to what had just happened in Tom’s room, you took a deep breath before opening the door. There was no doubt that you were still upset, but you also were bothered about the fact that this came so suddenly. Or had it? Had he been so skeptical before and you’d just never caught on? How could he not trust you?

As you walked in, Tom laid on his side away from you. You let out a small sigh, placing your dirty clothes in the hamper and walking over to the bed. “Tom?” No answer. “Can we talk?” Though you couldn’t see around him, Tom squeezed his eyes shut at those words. He finally turned over. “Hey.” You said. “Hey.”

You assumed an apology would come after that, but it never did. You tried to be reasonable. “I get it.” “Hm?” “I get it. I’m sorry that you’re feeling like this. I can’t say there haven’t been times I’ve gotten a little jealous or scared or insecure when you’re miles and miles away. But I’m right here. You have nothing to worry about.” “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted that way towards you.” “It’s okay, but you have to trust me. We’ve been together over a year now and this conversation has never came up. Why now?”

Tom took a minute to gather his words. He let out a slow shaky breath. “I don’t know how to put it into words. When I’m away, I long to be back home with you. It seems so simple to know that I get to home and you’re here for me. So, now that I’m home for longer than a week, I recognize that you have developed these amazing friendships with people who can be here for you more than me, and sometimes it just feels unreal that I have you - like I don’t deserve you. I just love you so much that the thought of you being with someone else ever hurts me, and I think that’s why the comments got to me so much this time. Y/N, I think I’m ready to tell the world. I’m tired of keeping you a secret. I want to show the world you’re mine, I want to be the one they make those comments about. Ridiculous, huh?” Tom let out a small chuckle and shook his head.

You grabbed his hands, shaking your head. “Babe, if it weren’t for Harrison, we wouldn’t be here. The relationships I’ve grown with everyone is over our shared love of you. We are so grateful that we can be altogether in each other’s presence and enjoy it because we all have a shared love. You’re so important to all of us, and that’s just how it works. I’m ready to tell the world if you are. I’d love nothing more than to finally call you mine publicly… and maybe go on a date outside of our backyard when this pandemic ends.” You say with a grin. He pulls you on top of him, laying a slow kiss on your lips. “You’re so important to me. Let’s show the world how much.”

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader

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itsonlystrange · 3 years

Text

Okay I’m just saying..do you guys realize what a cultural reset canon byler would be?

Like it would trend on Twitter, 100%. People who have never seen the show before would become interested in it, ESPECIALLY people who are looking for queer representation in shows.

Byler is a good slow burn that’s INTERESTING. It’s not your stereotypical gay guys who obviously like eachother and are only there for comic relief and pushed to the back so that the het ships can get the spotlight. It has DEVELOPMENT. And it’s rare you come across stuff like that.

Neither mike nor will are stereotypically “gay”. They are just regular teenage boys who happen to not be straight. Usually gay ships portrayed in TV and Film are used as comedic relief. Or the overly flamboyant gay guy and the super macho gay guy getting together in the last 10 seconds the show.

Yes, there are a TON of good shows out there that have queer representation however a LOT of them get thrown under the radar or are overshadowed by the more heterosexual ships or shows.

So imagine, a show as big as stranger things, having its two boys be in a canon relationship. Like the internet would BLOW UP. It’d be the topic of every interview. Finn and Noah would be the topic of every interview. Stranger Things would have relevancy again.

Obviously, ST is still relevant however with this whole hiatus it’s falling off the radar easily and people are becoming bored. But this...this would blow it up again.

Obviously queer ships are NOT there to make a show relevant again, at all. That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is, imagine all the lgbtq+ kids that watch ST. The lgbtq+ BOYS that watch ST.

Often, when queer relationships are portrayed in film or television, it isn’t portrayed accurately. And it’s often shown as “if you don’t come out this way then you’re invalid.” Or “if you have internalized homophobia you’re invalid” and a thousand other things. Hell, I remember being much younger absolutely hating myself or not “picking a side” and being so confused with my self and wondering why I was even bisexual in the first place.

But then you have byler, which portrays a much more accurate relationship between two closer than normal boys. It portrays the internalized homophobia, the abuse and bullying people back in the 80’s (and still now) would endure. And yeah, it’s not the most accurate depiction but it’s FAR better than some other popular show’s queer relationships.

Millions of people watch this show, an abundance of them being lgbtq+. And imagine them having a ship to look up to. A ship that doesn’t portray gay relationships as a “joke”. And even better, Mike and Will are teenagers!!

Often, in film and television, queer ships are usually based around two adults. In fact, a lot of times they portray young teenagers being in a gay relationship as “gross.” They say that it’s too “mature”. That having a partner that’s the same gender as you is wrong, and that you need to be a little bit “older” because apparently being in a queer relationship is only for adults because queer relationships are just too “inappropriate.”

But then you have Mike and Will who are two 14 year old boys. Who aren’t stereotypically “gay” as the movies portray. They’re just normal teenage boys. And that’s how it SHOULD be portrayed. We need to stop portraying Lgbtq+ ships as “inappropriate” or “weird”. They’re just two teenage boys in love.

Remember when everyone found out Robin was lesbian after being straight baited? Yeah. The internet blew up. So take that and times it by ten thousand. That would be canon byler.

It’d be a huge step for the media. Unfortunately, we haven’t come that far with queer ships. It’s gotten better but there’s still a lot of steps to take. But having a huge show like stranger things have their two man boys be in a canon relationship and have it portrayed regularly, guys!! That would be huge!!

Imagine all the little kids getting to grow up with that. Or all the teenagers that are Mike and Will’s age struggling with their sexuality seeing these two boys who aren’t stereotypically anything be canonically in love. Like, that would be huge.

I know that if I grew up with a canon byler I would definitely have felt a lot more sure of my sexuality earlier on. So many kids would have a wonderful ship to look up to that isn’t fetishized or treated like it’s “weird.”

And the fact that it’d be the topic of every interview. Noah and Finn wouldn’t see the end of it. People would talk about it non stop. It’d be advertised on social media accounts, the duffers would talk about it, the stranger writers would talk about it. I mean, it’d be big!!

And yeah, it’s sad that a gay ship becoming canon would be revolutionary, but that’s just how the world is. We still haven’t progressed past that yet. And it’ll take awhile before having a gay shop isn’t a big thing.

I often see people say “if byler became canon then everybody would stop watching” which just ISN’T true.

They’d gain so many viewers. It’d be more popular than Mileven ever had been. Yes, Mileven has their cute moments, however at the end of the day, Milevens dynamic has been done before. Thats not to say bylers hasn’t, obviously a canon byler wouldn’t be the first. But it’d be the first big canon queer ship in awhile. Straight ships with mileven’s dynamic happen all the time.

And at the end of the day, ST isn’t a romance show. If Mileven didn’t end up being end game I don’t think many people would care. It wouldn’t be as big as people say it is. I feel like the fandom likes to think that Mileven rakes in all the money but that simply isn’t true. It’s a science fiction show at its core and the core viewers don’t watch for romance. If Mileven is what raked in all their viewers then season 2 wouldn’t have been as successful as it was, considering mike and el don’t even interact until the last episode of season 2. So I really think the fandom is just overreacting on that part. Yeah, people are gonna leave the fandom. Just how people left when stancy wasn’t endgame or when their favorite chatacter died or when something happened that they didn’t like. That’s just how life works. They’re gonna lose viewers regardless of what happens because not everyone will be happy with how season four plays out. But at the end of the day, it’s hot like ST is going to lose 25 million viewers because two 14 year olds weren’t endgame. It’s often easy to forget that the fandom doesn’t reflect ST’s viewership. The fandom takes up only a small percentage OF their viewership. So yeah, some fan accounts may deactivate, just like how a lot of bylers left the fandom after season 3. But it’s not like nobody’s going to watch the show, that’s absurd. Mileven isn’t their main cash cow. It isn’t even on the leader board of st’s main cash cows. If anything, Steve dying would make st lose more viewers than Mileven not being end game. And it’s been made more clear recently that a lot of people prefer Jopper over Mileven, especially with the ending of season 3. We gotta remember that, the FANDOM is mainly teenagers however stranger things main demographic and viewership is ADULTS. And I don’t see many 21+ year olds not watching the show because a ship almost 10 years younger than them wasnt end game. Most of st’s viewers don’t care about the romance

TLDR: canon byler would be huge for stranger things and would probably blow up the internet. It’d also be good commercially and financially for stranger things. Also having byler he canon would be so helpful to all the kids and teens and even adults out their struggling with their sexuality and would make so many lgbtq+ kids, teens, and adults feel seen and feel loved and feel validated. Over all, canon byler would do more GOOD then bad.

#byler #gay mike wheeler #gay will byers #stranger things #stranger things 4 #will byers #mike wheeler

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

The First Time Part I / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

request by: @quantumlocked310 and you can find the ask here (request are open! and for more things than just Ink Drinker!)

✎ full series post is here.

author’s note: after the angst that was chapter five, we’ll take a journey on the way-back-machine to the very first time. and yes, there will be another part to this. just about 3200 words (I’m sorry).

content warning: smut, mostly [oral m&f receiving, protected sex], and Ivar being a smart mouth.

synopsis: you can finally both look, and touch.

✎

His eyes spent the greater part of the evening lingering on you; cerulean orbs tracing the hem of your clothes, and he couldn’t figure out why. There was a bite on your tongue that met back with his and by your third drink he could have sworn the eyes you were giving him belonged only in the bedroom. Maybe it was the cold bitter of the sour brew he had downed, maybe it was how the girl he was interested in suddenly stepped away when he asked her what they were. “It was fun while it lasted, but I’m not looking for anything like that, with you, Ivar.” And he hasn’t heard from her since, and he knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you for driving me home,” You say suddenly, drowning out the low music in the cabin of his mustang. “I’m really not drunk but I’m not going to argue with Mother Hen—I mean Hvitserk,” and Ivar only chuckles at that.

“Not a problem,” He says back and his voice is flat now, drowned with a hidden emotion that is foreign to his speech.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask and his eyes flash to yours. Their first glance is nearly annoyed but they soften the moment they connect to yours before your own orbs scurry away. Ivar looks sad and in his best ability to try to hide it he was showing it even more so.

“You know that’s not a good idea, princess,”

“I’m not your fucking princess,” You snip back and feel a wave of shame cross you. An unspoken boundary already breeched too far and you’re embarrassed with the sudden rejection. “Just—let me know when you make it home, alright? And when you have that design all done,” You mumble and he nods. “Drive safely.” And the door slamming echos through a quiet parking lot.

The elevator ride to your flat is lonely, locked in the metal box and you can’t stop how your mind wants to pick apart your actions. How you already have a plan formulating for the next time you see Ivar, and how you’re probably done with the outings because his mouth was two sizes too big. And then you think he’ll tell Hvitserk that you tried to invite him up—not even under the false tense that you’d spread your legs for him, even if you would. He was veiled in a sadness and the man just looked like he could use a hug. You put the television on to drown out the silence as you went about washing up, letting hair down and pulling on sleep clothes. Through the pour of another glass of wine you heard a knock.

Ivar drove around the block twice. Another right hand turn at the traffic light and pulled back into the same spot and sat there for five minutes. Turning the idea over in his head and he felt like a waste of space for declining your invite, teasing you even though you could take it. He wondered if it was the first and last one. You looked too damn beautiful for the bullshit you endured with his brothers and he wondered why you even decided to put up with the five of them. But instead he took the steps two at a time and was outside your door before his mind had a chance to catch up to what he was doing.

“I’m sorry I called you princess,” are the first words that drip from his tongue when you peel the door back. Weight against the frame and his coat is off now in the warm evening air, biceps colored with designs meeting your vision and you only offer him a small smile. But you don’t miss how the softness takes to his face when he sees you in such a raw, makeup-let appearance.

“I accept your apology, Ragnarsson,” You say back. “Why isn’t it a good idea?”

“What?”

“You said it’s not a good idea that I invited you up—why?” You ask and Ivar offers you a shrug.

“Figured it was the alcohol talking—I’m not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?”

“Someone you’d seem interested in hanging out with if there wasn’t one of my brothers in tow….” Ivar finally admits and he casts a gaze down on the hallway’s floor.

“Actually Ivar, to be perfectly blunt, I’m kind of fucking sick of them all. And you are someone I would hang out with. But, if you don’t want to that’s fine.” You say.

“No—no it’s not that—actually, you know what. You’re right,” Ivar finally says and walks into the threshold.

“I have wine, and I think there’s vodka left—I haven’t gotten anymore whiskey.” You say as he pulls his boots off, seating them parallel by the door.

“Vodka’s fine,”

“Straight?”

“I am, yeah.” Ivar quips back and you press your forehead against the fridge’s door.

“I see your smart ass mouth doesn’t stop when you’re by yourself,” You grumble back. “Want to pick a movie?” Just as the words leave your mouth there’s an obnoxious ring from your pager and you all but take the damn device and throw it into the far wall. “I swear to fucking God if Hvitserk caught his apartment on fire trying to deep fry a fucking candy bar I’m going to run him over with the ladder truck.” You grumble to yourself and Ivar can’t stop the smirk that comes to his lips as he walks through the living room. But the call isn't for you.

“Maybe one day he’ll tell you about the time he tried to put a Hershey bar through a juicer, to make drinkable chocolate. Verses you know—melting it in the microwave,” Ivar says as he flops against your couch. “Clearly his brightest moment.”

“He was making dinner for the station and we got an echo right as his oil heated to temperature and he almost started crying because he had to turn it off. Echo means we need to be there in the next five seconds, basically.” You say back and you find your seat on the other section of the sofa, handing the bottle to Ivar and the first glass you could grab. “How was your day, Ivar?”

“My day?” He asks, unscrewing the cap, unprepared to even be asked that. “My day was…..fine. I did a walk in on a sorority girl and they played truth or dare while I tattooed her.” Ivar adds and he chuckles slightly.

“I haven’t played that game since I was in high school,” You laugh, snatching the remote.

“Truth, or dare Y/N?”

“Oh fuck off what are you—twelve?”

“On a scale of one to ten, yes.” Ivar says back and there’s a bastard smirk on his face as he takes the first shot back without a grimace. You take the cup from his hand and pour your own shot and toss it back.

“Truth,” You say back and Ivar only smacks his lips together. They push forwards as he thinks, turning thoughts over in his head and his mind still comes up blank. There’s too much he wants to ask about you and in the mess of trying to decipher his mind goes silent.

“When we were all at the dinner, for my father’s company and you came with Hvitserk—remember he left for a structure fire?”

“I remember,”

“And I asked if you weren’t into the million dollar crap, so we left and went to that little diner in town?”

“I still remember, Ivar, I was there,” You sing.

“Why did you agree to go with me?” Ivar asks back and takes the bottle. His mouth goes around it and he tosses a shot back and your eyes catch his lips as they move.

“Because the dinner was quite boring and Hvitserk left so I didn’t feel invited and I wanted to leave. And that diner has damn good pancakes.”

“Fuck they do.” He moans back and you clench your thighs without even realizing it.

“Truth or dare, Ivar?” You say and he takes the hair tie from his locks as he tosses them to spin about.

“Truth,” He challenges back.

“Do you really have a bachelor’s degree in calculus?”

“Who told you that?” He rumbles suddenly and his eyes level with yours.

“Hvitserk did—was he not suppose to?” You peep back startled but then Ivar relaxes.

“I just don’t like people knowing that,” He mumbles and tosses the bottle back. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“Is being a paramedic the only thing you’ve done?”

“I wan an EMT first and then a paramedic, but yes it’s the only thing I’ve done.” You reply and Ivar hands you the bottle back like you’ve earned it for answering his question. This shot burns a bit more and your watching the man before you relax back along your sofa. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“You are no fun,” You groan.

“What are you going to dare me to do?” Ivar laughs and you bite the bottom of your lip as you look at him. Me, you dumb ass. Ivar watches you as you do, eyes flicking over him and you hand him the bottle.

“Is Sigurd fun to work with.”

“Fucking no.” Ivar groans quickly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“How…how drunk are you?” Ivar asks suddenly.

“Not drunk at all, why?”

“Just checking,”

“Truth or dare?” You hum.

“Dare,” and your eyes flicked up to his.

“If I dared you to fuck me, would you?” You ask him and Ivar sucks in a breath as his pupils widen and he nods slowly.

“In a fucking heart beat,” He moans and you set the bottle on the coffee table haphazardly. You’re across the couch then and over his lap and his eyes are stuck on yours but he’s still frozen under you.

“I’m not made of glass, Ragnarsson,” You say softly and that propels him, his hands grabbing your cheeks to pull you closer. The first kiss is rushed, heated and mixed with a tangle of teeth and tongue and too many hours of just looking at one another without the ability to touch. When you pull back suddenly Ivar freezes, thinking you’re having a second opinion on the situation but he watches you pull the top from your body and you’re suddenly standing bare chested before him. He follows suit only seconds later, standing and tearing his top and your mouth opens. There’s no spot on his torso that isn’t covered and your eyes scan the artwork as you feel the flutter in your abdomen take notice. “Oh my god, Ivar,” You say softly and your nails trace along what you see first. Ivar hums in response as his body looms closer to yours, and you’re turning, walking to your room and Ivar is on your heels.

Your back meets the bed before Ivar is crawls over you, swarming you against the sheets as you move back. Large body on display and your fingers don’t know where they want to start. When his lips dip into your jaw line, suckling on the skin over your pulse point you moan, a noise that jabs Ivar right in his crotch and he needs to hear it again.

“I won’t put any where they’re be seen over your uniform,” Ivar whispers and his lips dip lower, tracing along your collar bone before there’s a squeeze to your chest from his hand and you moan twice as loudly. You can feel him smirk as he journeys, stopping right at your shorts. You only pull away slightly to wiggle to where your top drawer is, tossing the foil packet at him and he gives you a glare. “Really?” He asks as he holds the packet in his fingers.

“Yes.” You say back. “I don’t know where your dick has been.”

“I”m clean,” He snarls back.

“You don’t have to get laid, Ivar,” You sass.

“No, I don’t,” He grumbles back.

“But you want to….” You sing.

“Uh—yeah I do. Have you seen yourself lately?”

“Then put on the fucking condom, Ivar. Don’t be a dick. Do you need me to do it for you?” You ask in a fake whine.

“Yes, I do,” Ivar challenges back and you’re moving, slipping off the bed and sinking to your knees in front of him, sight alone causing his heart to quicken with a twitch of his cock under the fabric. Pulling the band of his boxers down, his length comes free and you have to bite back your own moans at the sight of him. With the size of that man you’re not shocked with how much he packs and your chest heaves when his cock comes to your face. Flattening your tongue, to take to dragging it from his base to his tip, a throaty groan leaving his mouth as you work. You feel his hand card in through your hair as your tongue spreads over the under side of him; the veins, the ridges, and all of the skin making themselves known against your tastebuds as he moans your name. Finally pulling away, you roll the rubber over him and scurry back up along the sheets.

Ivar wastes no time to climb over your, giant towering of a man between your bent knees as he pulls them apart. Too many agonizing seconds before he finally slips your panties off, another low noise of arousal from him at the mere sight of you. Laying bare and glistening before him and he grows excited as he sees the glimmer of your arousal from him between your slit. With your legs spread, Ivar presses his chest where they’re split as you feel him drag his tongue through your folds. The sight of him between your thighs was far worth all of the back talk, all of the petty bickering and mutual death threats in the the world. Ivar lets out a hum as your nectar spreads over his lips, moistening his tongue while his fingers dig farther in your thighs.

“So sweet baby…” He moans before he lets saliva dribble from his mouth as a string lands against your slit, pushing it back through as his lips went to roaming. Your nails sneak into his hair, pulling it like reins as your spine arches.

“You’re…you’re really good at this,” You whisper, body flushed and far too warm as you feel the pleasure creep up through your skin. Ivar only hums in agreement, bastardly tone still as his tongue swirls your clit. He pulls back suddenly, crawling back up over you because he simply can’t wait any longer. His mouth is skilled, still hot and tangling with yours between tongues and teeth and you can taste your juices on him. His weight rests between you and you can feel him just past your opening as his mouth stops. “We don’t tell anyone,” You whisper as his forehead stays still along yours. Ivar pulls himself up then, kneeling between you with his cock in his fist.

“Promise,” Ivar says solidly, pushing his cock slowly as it melts into you. His chest heaving as he watches himself bottom out, wrapped snug in your wall as he lets out the most guttural moan your ears have heard to date. “Oh—fuck,” He rasps, head tipping forwards slightly. “You’re so much tighter than I imagined,” He growls as he plants arms on each side of you, eyes finding yours. A blushed face and mouth spread open with how he’s stretching you, pushing past any other lover you’ve laid with. Through a languid roll of his hips he moves again, moans singing between the both of you. Ivar only pulls back enough to where your hips try to chase him and catch him, but instead he snaps back inside. Reaching for him—trying to ground yourself as he drills such pleasure through your body—Ivar gladly meets you half way, covering you and grabbing the sheets by your head for leverage as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re so deep,” You whimper, his forehead on yours and he can only nod as a reply, slowing his hips some as the sounds of how he moves through your folds fill the room.

“Feel so fucking good,” He rasps as his mouth catches yours, hips starting to pick up their pace as his body moves yours with the bed. “God you feel so fucking good,” And one hand starts skimming the curve of your body, trying to memorize how you feel under his touch so he has that forever engrained in him.

“Ivar—Ivar—I’m—close,” You start, knees locking against his side as your nails dig into inked shoulders. Words fail you as your release comes closer, rolling towards you like a loose freight train as Ivar’s noises match yours, thrusting hard, deep presses inside of you and your body is curling against his.

“Me too baby—come all over me,” He grunts, his mouth by your ear as he deepens his thrusts. “All fucking over me,” Ivar demands and his words make you whimper as they become the single driving phrase for your orgasm to grab you. You can only nod and hold onto him as your moans rise in octaves as your walls contract around him, locking him still momentarily as he watches you finish. Tossing your head into the pillows as he slows, nails raking down his back as if they’re trying to leave lines in their wake that’ll match the tattoos. “Good girl…” Ivar purrs from above you, lips brushing the skin on your cheek before they’re slide to your mouth. You only offer him a hum in response as your body floats down, Ivar own’s end coming closer as his body presses you against the bed, his hips starting back up quickly. Skin slapping skin as Ivar crushes you against the bedding, his forehead plastering to yours before you feel him shake slightly, vibrate as a low groan grew through his chest, his own release filling the condom. His lips faltering some as the sounds float back to your mouth and you have never heard a more blissful noise. One that you already needed to hear again, dance around the walls of your room and through your body. Stilling over you with heavy breathing mixing in between, Ivar pulls up slightly, relishing in your new found freedom but immediately missing the weight over you, nearly grinding your bones. You watch him rise and look down at you with blue irises moving through yours.

“You alright?” He asks softly.

“Don’t go all soft on me now, Ivar,” You tease with a curl of your lips and you’re quite frankly shocked that that he even cared to ask. He rolled his eyes before leaning back, lips against yours once.

“I usually go soft after I come, princess,” Ivar teases, finally pulling himself from inside of you, rolling the used condom off with a tissue and tossing it. You take to finding your clothes, moving yourself solely in the motions to distract your wandering mind and leave it at the door. Climbing back under your bedding, you hear Ivar move, pulling his own boxers on and you wonder how he’s going to leave it. Instead you feel the bed dip, arms latching around you and pulling you closer. “Is this alright?” Ivar whispers as he settles with you.

“Yes,” You peep softly. “I didn’t think you snuggled,” and Ivar only clicks his tongue at that.

“I can leave, if you like!” He says back.

“No—please don’t,” You reply quickly, melting back against him and he smiles.

“Smart choice,” Ivar says as you reach to turn the light off, the sound of the ceiling fan taking over the room and he crushes you closer. “I didn’t want to leave anyways.”

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existtolaugh · 3 years

Text

Had a prompt idea and managed to find an hour or two between breaks at work and my commute to write a short little story. It is not proofread or as long as most of my other works, but I was inspired and wanted to write this after seeing the movie. This does contain some spoilers from Black Widow.

Giggles 04 - Natasha and Yelena

"I - No, Yelena, you're doing it wrong. Here, use your other arm - No, your OTHER other arm..! I.."

"I think it looks better than yours, if I'm being honest."

It was a busy few days for the Black Widows, but after all the fighting and running that they have had to endure, they forgot that it was possible to have fun every now and again. Sure, maybe they should be planning how to break Alexei out of prison, but one thing lead to another and Yelena insisted she could perform a better three point pose than Natasha herself.

"No, it doesn't. If you push up with that arm, you aren't going to have enough balance. It isn't about looking good when you land, it's about getting back up." Natasha tried to explain to the younger Widow.

"So you're telling me that you Avengers aren't constantly thinking about how you are going to look on the covers of magazines and television? Natasha, you can't fool me." Yelena retorted as she tried to keep optimal balance in her three-point pose just to defy her sister's advice and prove her wrong.

"Well, when you save the world multiple times, you don't have the energy to think about fashion all that much." Natasha tried to explain to her wobbling sister. "I can tell." Yelena spoke. "After all, I'm the one with the stylish AND practical vest." She smiled.

"It's tacky."

"Got more pockets that you." She shrugged, almost completely falling over and losing her balance at the notion. Luckily, Natasha was there to catch her sister, hands pressed against her sides to ensure she wouldn't fall on her face.

..Which caused the younger of the two to shoot up with a soft gasp.

Natasha blinked, thinking at first she just startled her sister. But no, that wasn't it.. All of a sudden, some memories began to wake up in her mind that she had forgotten about after all these years..

Memories of play fighting with Yelena in their childhood home of Ohio. While Natasha would usually win, having already been trained as a Black Widow, she would occasionally let Yelena win just to make her feel good.

But she would never, ever let Yelena win when it came to their favorite sport, which was tickle fighting..

"Yelena..?" Natasha asked, her sister turning around to face her, doing her best to keep her composure and play it cool after her reaction. "I.. Yeah? What is it?"

"Do you remember, when we were kids.. We would play a game.." Natasha smiled a little bit, Yelena's cheeks darkening and trying to avoid the topic which she knew her sister was trying to get at. "I was very young. I do not remember such.. Such trivial details!" She said, which caused Natasha to smile a little wider. "Are you sure? Because I remember your favorite game.." She took a step towards her sister..

But Yelena would not be caught off guard so easily..

Already reaching for Natasha's arm, Yelena tried to pull her sister in and drag her to the ground. Both Widows since arriving at their safe house had stripped of their jumpsuits, and were in more casual attire. Both in tank tops, socks and pajama bottoms, which had swayed in the air as Yelena tried to flip her sister onto her back, though Natasha would not be taken down so quickly and easily..

Wrapping her legs around Yelena's arm, she pulled her down with her and pinned that arm with her legs, leaving her sister with only one arm to defend herself with, though Natasha was swift and managed to pin the flailing arm above Yelena's head.. In their tussle, it caused Yelena's top to rise and expose her stomach.. And left Natasha with one free hand, wiggling her red nails above the belly of her younger sister..

"I..! You release me this instant..! I'll.. I'm not even ticklish anymore..! Those childish games don't matter..!" Yelena said, her belly sinking in as much as possible as if to defend itself from the ever approaching claw of doom.. "Uh-huh. Theeeeen this won't bother you?" Natasha smiled before her nails struck their target, the right side of Yelena's exposed tummy, causing a squeak to slip through her lips, trying to roll onto her side and keep composure before cracking..

But Natasha's hands were more dedicated than Yelena's lips.. Which began to slip into a wider and wider smile, before the unthinkable happened..

..She began to giggle..

"Cuhut.. Ihit ohohohout..!~" Yelena snorted, Natasha's nails skittering closer to the middle of her sister's belly in retaliation to her sign of resistance. "Say I win." Natasha said, wanting to retain her undefeated streak of tickle fights with her sister. "NOHO! I wihill ehEHENDUHUHURE FAHAHAR WOHohorse tohohorture behefore ahahadmiHIHITTING SUHUCH LIHIhihies!"

"That never stopped me before." Natasha teased, deciding how is the perfect opportunity to use one of her secret weapons. Leaning down, she puckered her lips and blew a massive raspberry right on Yelena's helpless belly button, and her expression said it all. Eyes closed in a howl of silent laughter, the wheezing Widow arched her back and kicked her legs before losing herself in a fit of fulfilling and adorable laughter. "NOHOHO! N-Nahahatahasha wahahAHAHAI -"

She was cut off by yet another raspberry, her lungs unable to make a sound to properly exemplify how the ticklish girl felt, but the way her stomach quivered, the way she shivered, the shaking of her legs, it told a story of a girl who has not been tickled in over twenty years and forgot how ticklish, yet in love with the sensation, she was.

For a moment she felt like a little girl back in Ohio. For a moment she looked up at her blue-haired older sister. For a moment she heard Don McLean on the radio. For a moment she even saw their mother, or as she was known to the girls as the mighty tickle momster, sneaking in to join in the pile of ticklish fun the girls were having, only to exhaust themselves and fall asleep in a cuddle puddle on the floor.

She had forgotten those wonderful memories, and it took Natasha to remind her of these things.

But she was an adult now.

And she could fight back.

Natasha had let her guard down just long enough for Yelena to shoot her legs up and wrap them around her sister's body and arms, rolling her onto her back and pinning her down. Natasha was so distracted with tickling the younger woman, she had forgotten how formidable of a fighter she had grown up to be.. "I.. Wait, Yelena..! Okay maybe we've horsed around enough..! We should get back to work an - "

"Nyet." Was all Yelena said, smiling and digging into her sister's hips, causing her to instantly enter a fit of squealing and wiggling, tugging at her arms trapped between her sister's legs, if not to fight back AT LEAST cover her face to hide her burning cheeks from the teasing smile that was looking right at her. "Come on. Fight back. The big bad Avenger can't handle a little tickling? You have beaten gods, robot armies, S.H.I.E.L.D., even. Why can't you take your younger sister tickling you?"

Yelena was loving this, and Natasha could tell, even as she struggled wildly to rescue her hips from the dreaded assault they had no option but to endure." YOHOU.. AHAH WEHEHE NEHEED TOHO FOHOCUS!" She tried to explain through her laughter, hands flapping to try and reach Yelena's hips. "We didn't need to focus when you were tickling me. Maybe you should learn to focus. What's our next move, huh?"

Natasha couldn't believe she was stuck in this situation. She couldn't believe it even more when Yelena began to squeeze right into her thighs. "AAGGHH! STAHAHAP! WAHAIT I..!" "You what? Give up?"

Natasha was willing to do a lot to get Yelena to stop, but under NO circumstances would she give up. Not to Yelena. Not to somebody she has never, ever lost a tickle fight to. Managing to barely squeeze a hand free, she went for the one spot she knew she could win..

Yelena was too distracted to notice at first, but when she felt Natasha wrap an arm around her ankles she almost panicked. Toes curled in their socks, Yelena had to act fast.. And dove for Natasha's ankles.. Both girls managing to lock each other's feet in headlocks, once more finding themselves on equal footing - no pun intended.

Natasha peeled off the socks before her, trying to act quickly, knowing that she had to get Yelena to surrender first before her own soles were attacked. Feeling the cool breeze brush against her toes was warning enough that Yelena had ripped those socks off and it was all or nothing now..

Natasha went right for the arches, scratching her nails in which elicited a shriek from Yelena's lips, which was almost as loud as the squeal that crawled out of Natasha's throat when Yelena skittered her nails into that bare heel, both girls rolling around on the ground, refusing to release each other, both girls wanting nothing more than to prove the superior fighter in the art of tickling. Both were so equally matched, but both had their own unique ways to fight back..

Natasha was so skilled, her nails sharper and more precise, as if every wrinkle was forced to be stimulated in the most ticklish ways possible. Yelena, however, was more frantic. Unpredictable. Darting back and forth between different spots on Natasha's feet, the older Widow unable to keep up with the frantic nature that she had to endure, even moreso when Yelena tried to press her own feet into Natasha's face to both hide her soles and to annoy the Avenger into surrender more quickly..

"YOHOU.. LEHET GOHOHO!"

"YOHOHOU FIHIRST! AAGGHH STAHAP!"

"YOHOU FIHIRST!"

"NOHO YOHOU FIHIRST!!"

One had to give, but neither one was willing to lose. Yelena couldn't lose, she had to prove herself to her sister. Natasha had to defend her streak. But only one was willing to go the extra mile to drive her sister crazy.

"N-NOHOHO! AAHHAHAH ST-STAHAP THAHAT! W-WAHAHAIT!!"

Once Yelena began to nibble into Natasha's toes, she had no idea how to react to this situation. She had been tortured, broken, and endured horrors beyond what she was capable of knowing how to cope with, yet still walked forward and tried to be the best person she could be.

But what she learned on this night was toe nibbling was something she had no idea how to handle.

"AAGGHHAHAHAH I GIHIVE I GIHIHIVE!! YOHOHOU WIHIHIN!~"

Yelena stopped, Natasha tapping out on the floor as the younger sister pulled her feet free.. Finally.. She had won.. Catching her breath and laying across the calves of her fallen foe.. Smiling and turning her head to look at her..

Both girls were tired, their hair stuck to their face.. But they smiled at each other.. "Who's.. Ahah.. Who's the winner now..?~" Yelena asked, panting as Natasha chuckled.. "Fine.. Yohou are the behetter tickle master.. I hehereby grant you the rank of Master Tickler.." Natasha said with a smile, for the first time in a while just feeling happy to be with somebody who she could consider family..

"Good.. Now say my vest is cool.." Yelena added, Natasha shaking her head before laying it back down on the floor.. "Yeah, no.." She said..

She was then laughing her head off when Yelena went back to nibbling and scratching those sensitive soles of the Avenger.. "OKAHAY OKAHAHAY IHIT'S COHOOL!!~"

It wouldn't be too long after this that they would fall asleep in each other's arms on the floor, very much like they did when they were little girls..

Little did the Widows know, they would once again enter combat with the mighty Tickle Momster in the not too distant future..

#tickle #tickling #Black Widow #Natasha Romanoff #Yelena Belova

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Dolphin Watching

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, Gordon

So this is a response to @flashfictionfridayofficial and their weekly prompt “sunny delight”. This one clocks in at 994 words, according to MSWord.

I skipped last week, I know, but I’m back - and for once, my FFF entry seems to actually be fluffy! When’s the last time I wrote some pure fluff..? Been a little while. Still, here’s some wee!Military Bros.

“Scotty!”

The teenager had all of half a second’s warning before a dripping blond head barrelled into his bare chest, getting his skin wet in the process. Arms wrapped around him tightly enough to force the breath from his lungs as he took a steadying step backwards.

“Easy,” he laughed, putting his unoccupied hand on a small shoulder and coaxing his younger brother to let go. “What’s the rush?”

Amber eyes peaked out from underneath water-mussed hair, glittering with excitement as Gordon stepped back. He was bouncing where he stood, too much energy to possibly be contained within his tiny body.

“You’ve been gone ages,” his brother accused him, but any attempts at a pout were ruined by the wide grin he couldn’t contain.

“I was gone half an hour,” Scott corrected, ruffling the wet hair fondly. “I thought that was only ‘ages’ in Alan-speak these days.”

Gordon shrugged off the tease, bouncing even higher. “There are dolphins, Scotty!” Small, also-wet hands, grabbed his empty one and yanked at him impatiently. Smiling fondly, Scott let his younger brother drag him across the sandy beach towards the water’s edge, only putting his heels in when they reached the rest of the family.

“Give me a moment,” he told Gordon, towing the blond over to where John was sheltering under a parasol with a book. “Save some for me,” he warned, passing over the reason he’d left the beach in the first place.

“You’d better be quick, then,” John commented, but dutifully stashed them with him in the shade. The ice pops had been Dad’s idea, but Alan had demanded all of their father’s attention, leaving Scott to make the run. The youngest three hadn’t been told about the planned treat, but where Virgil or Alan would have dived straight in, it seemed that Gordon was still more interested in a more literal diving so spoiling the surprise for him wasn’t much of a problem.

Well aware that he was about to be dragged into the ocean himself, Scott also dropped his wallet into John’s care and kicked off his sandals before giving in to the demands of the blond still holding his hand captive.

“They’ll be gone, Scott!” Gordon insisted. “Come on!”

“I’m coming, fish,” Scott promised. “Lead the way.”

He was almost pulled over by the energetic child, and narrowly avoided a face-full of sand by utilising forwards momentum and enough speed to keep his feet underneath him. The water’s edge wasn’t far from where John was sat, and they sped past both Virgil, perched on a protruding rock with sketchbook in hand, and then Alan and Dad, who were splashing around in the shallows.

“Don’t go too deep, boys!” Dad called out as they passed, and Scott made a noise of acknowledgement even as he was yanked into the waves by his brother.

Gordon might be eight years younger than him, but he was already at least as strong a swimmer as Scott. There was no hesitation in his strokes as he quickly left his depth and struck out, leaving Scott to follow on behind. The water was calm, waves barely higher than the natural swell of the shimmering ocean, but he kept half an eye on it anyway, just in case.

There was a reason Gordon wasn’t allowed to go far by himself, even if he was a powerful swimmer.

“There!” His brother stopped, treading water with such ease he might as well have been standing still on land. Scott pulled up next to him and followed the pointing finger just in time to see the promised dolphin leap out of the water.

Promised dolphins, that should have been, because it was quickly followed by another, and then another, and then what had to be an entire pod of them playing around, just out of reach of swimmers from the shore.

“Dolphins!” his brother repeated, breathlessly. Scott understood his awe – Gordon had only ever seen dolphins on television or in aquariums. He’d never seen them in the wild.

Nor had Scott.

“Dolphins,” he agreed, watching with wide eyes as one leaped higher than the others, before seamlessly darting back under the surface. Beside him, Gordon gasped.

“They’re beautiful,” his brother whispered. “Aren’t they, Scotty?”

“They are, fish,” he murmured, glancing across at his captivated brother for a split second before finding his own attention caught by the creatures as well.

Together, they watched the pod race through the waves, up and down and around playfully. Silver-blue bodies flickered in the sunlight, a sunny delight to behold.

Scott could have watched them for hours. Gordon wanted to, if he knew his brother at all. Unfortunately, treading water was tiring, even for a nine year old with seemingly unlimited energy, let alone his less-water-inclined big brother, and after a few minutes Scott began to feel the early warning burn in his legs.

“Say bye to the dolphins, Gordon,” he coaxed. “We’ve got to get back to the shallows.” If he said shore, he’d never get his brother away.

“Just a little longer?” his brother wheedled, eyes never leaving the playing dolphins. “Please, Scotty?”

“I’d love to,” Scott admitted, “but I can’t tread water much longer and we’re too far out for me if I cramp.”

Gordon whined, but water safety had been well and truly drummed into his little brother by his swimming coaches.

“You need to practice more,” he complained. Still, he obediently waved at the dolphins. “Bye, dolphins! I’ll see you again, I promise!” The creatures didn’t respond, had never appeared to notice them at all, but it seemed to satisfy Gordon, who turned away and headed back to shore.

Scott followed, feeling a little bad that he’d had to cut Gordon’s fun short and already prepared to be dragged swimming once they got home to up his endurance.

In the meantime, he had an ice pop or few waiting for him – as long as John hadn’t let the vultures in already.

#flashfictionfriday #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #thunderfluff

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Text

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Two, Crook/Aftermath

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: As the aftermath of choosing to attend Lee & Mary-Lee's wedding over Thomas' big acting break approaches, Janus extends Logan an unprecedented olive branch that results in the pair inadvertently working together.

CW: Drinking mention, very brief religion mention, philosophy Word Count: 3703 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Slowburn Loceit, pre-established Dukeceit, pre-established Intrulogical, slowburn intruloceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @anxiousbean4404 @vexelore @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody @poptartsaysurloved @robertdownerjr @dangitsbrightinhere @iamuncomffy @sanderdarksides @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn @dragonfander @virgilstarantula @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626 @cosplayhanna @edupunkn00b @wouldntyou-liketoknow @awesomerandomgirl1 @rizzyluke @loceitweek2021

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April 13th was rapidly approaching and with each passing hour, Thomas sank deeper into denial. Indecision welled as he went back and forth on the subject matter; callback or wedding, callback or wedding, the opportunity of a lifetime or a petty social engagement -- ugh. There was nothing resolute about his choice, about Roman’s choice. It was impulsive, fueled by the short lived desire to be seen as a good person. The kicker was that, even though Thomas was beginning to see this much, it didn’t matter. He would continue burying the realization under mounds of repression while justifying his discontent every way he could manage, grasping at every straw and still coming up short.

And Janus was supposed to help him, obviously. Repression may have been Patton’s speciality at times, but lying was his jurisdiction; even and especially when those lies were told to himself -- Thomas’ self. He was expected to disregard the resentment in his heart and perform his function. Well, if Thomas could make questionable decisions, then so could Janus, and he decided that they would all find it very difficult to cope when Thomas suddenly found himself incapable of lying on the wretched day. Maybe then Janus’ argument would be taken seriously -- but that was assuming Thomas would even notice.

Stewing in these thoughts, Janus shifted in his seat. Remus, used to his malcontented fidgeting, never spared a glance, however Logan seemed to finally have had enough.

“Are you alright, Janus?” Logan asked from his position, diagonal from the other. His tone was more annoyed and straightforward than concerned. He had genuinely been interested in the show Remus had put on but found it impossible to concentrate with Janus’ excessive sighing and movement.

“I suppose,” Janus lamented, resuming his contemplative silence. Perturbed, Logan adjusted his glasses and resigned himself to sitting back.

“Well, if there’s anything to be done,” Logan offered mindlessly, allowing his sentence to trail off as his focus resumed on the television.

“Well there is one thing,” Janus seized the opportunity after a brief pause, leaning forward with a hushed tone. Logan blinked at the sudden intensity of Janus’ charm.

“And that would be?” He responded dubiously, glancing almost nervously at Remus who seemed utterly absorbed by the show, sparing no attention to either of them. Similarly, Janus opened his mouth to begin speaking, but then inhaled as he registered the fact of Remus in the room still.

“Join me in the kitchen for a moment?” Janus stood fluidly, “I think we could use a drink,” he excused the thinly veiled shift before turning and exiting for the kitchen.

Confused, Logan sat up, only then realizing how much he had leaned towards Janus in the moment. The back of his neck itched with a familiar heat and he cleared his throat.

“I guess I’ll be--” Logan started to explain but Remus quickly waved a hand and shhhh’d him aggressively. With a small smile, Logan pressed a brief kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, earning a soft sound of appreciation before standing and following after Janus.

Logan entered as Janus finished pouring a second glass of wine. Assuming the other already filled was for him, Logan accepted and rested a hip against the counter. He crossed an arm under his elbow and watched Janus cap the wine with expectation in his raised chin, but Janus didn’t start speaking until he brought the glass to his lips.

“Something’s coming, you do realize,” he said while meeting Logan’s eyes carefully, his voice low and smooth like a secret. Janus followed his sentence with a slow sip. Logan took the pause to formulate his answer.

“That depends entirely on what you mean by ‘something,’” Logan replied hesitantly, but with a loosely concealed air of knowing.

The date of Lee and Mary-Lee’s wedding was of little importance to him, though the ramifications on Thomas’ stress levels were vexing. The two were connected, obviously, Logan wasn’t so ignorant as to pretend otherwise; however, he couldn’t empathize nor sympathize with Thomas’ decision -- or Roman’s decision, rather. If providing support for his friends was truly paramount, then why was Thomas stressed? He was unable to sleep soundly despite understanding Remus’ behavior now. Similarly unable to concentrate on work, thoughtlessly picking at his food, distracted by persistent and troubling thoughts of guilt, remorse, and failure.

“But yes,” Logan shook his head, conceding. “Something is coming and we’re all bound to talk in circles again.” He sighed and took a sip that quickly turned into a gulp from his glass.

“They never do listen to you,” Janus pointed out sympathetically and Logan frowned, looking away. “That isn’t your fault, of course,” he quickly soothed the burning truth but Logan remained silent for several long moments. Before he spoke again, he brought his glass up for another long drink.

“It is true though,” Logan admitted with a sigh. It was Janus’ turn to frown. They were all so ignorant to ignore Logic of all sides. How Logan had kept his patience for this long was beyond him.

“I don’t know how to make them listen,” Logan whispered, stare unfocused across the room. “Sometimes they do but,” his shoulders deflated and he rolled his eyes back up to Janus’ face, his lips lined in resigned disappointment. “More frequently they take my lessons in the opposite direction and come up with some alternative and pointless meaning,” Exasperation leaked into his tone. Janus exhaled in the following silence.

“Well, my favor,” he started after a moment and Logan blinked up, suddenly remembering what this conversation was supposed to be about, “with that in mind, is less for me than it is for you.”

Logan’s brows creased as his eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in confusion. He opened his mouth, intending to ask how that could possibly be, but his breath was quickly stolen by Janus’ delicate hand on his shoulder as he began to leave.

“When the time comes,” Janus whispered almost directly into Logan’s ear as he leaned in. Goosebumps raised along his arms and his stomach knotted in a way he was beginning to associate with Janus specifically. “Rely on me.”

- - - - -

Another debate spent as an observer, reduced to an annoying popup ad not even most of the audience bothered to pause for; too enthralled with the meaningless, cyclical conversation enduring above. At least Logan could console himself with the idea that some people were reading what he had to say. Thomas, at the very least, already knew everything he was saying. Logic wasn’t a feeling after all but something deeply embedded. A fact that only added fuel to the fire of frustration but that wasn’t something he was concentrating on currently.

Then Patton finally asked for his input directly. Logan already knew that Patton wouldn’t like what he had to say, but it was what Thomas needed to hear; the reality that’s been lying underneath every decision they’ve ever made. It was something Patton actively avoided thinking about. The fact was that his view and use of empathy was far more akin to pity, a feeling that only thinly veiled the nihilistic complex Morality had gotten entangled with in Thomas’ youth. “God,” “fate,” and “nothingness;” were all just terms for relinquishing control of one’s life. A habit that was clearly getting Thomas into situations that weighed on him heavily.

Logan began with reciting the source material: pity runs counter to the instincts that preserve and enhance the value of life. Friedrich Nietzche’s The Anti-Christ. A fantastic read about Nietzsche's claim that Christianity is a poisoner of western culture with its inherent apathy central to westernization. That wasn’t the first sentence nor was it the opening statement of the section he was referring to, but it was a perfectly adequate summary. However Logan didn’t even finish half of his following sentence explaining Nietzche’s philosophy before a yellow and black button appeared on his textbox. Skip all -- click. No hesitation.

No second thought.

Well, Logan did say that he was making his facts optional this time.

Something hard suddenly wrapped around his throat and the next thing Logan knew, he was being violently torn away from the scene.

Upright on his feet, he landed in a familiar place. Blinking around the shadowy corners of the Dark Side living room, Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with tense hands. How unnecessarily brutal, he thought.

“Oh hey, Lolo!” Remus greeted from the couch, suddenly realizing his forced entrance. “De -- I mean Jan just left!” A pause. “Wait,” he said slowly like he suspected them of something, but when he continued, he sounded humored again. “Did he send you to babysit me while he went and fucked with the Light Sides?”

Logan sighed, shoulders deflating. “It seems that way,” He conceded, piecing different puzzle pieces together but still getting the same result as Remus. “What are you doing, then,” Logan asked in a rather flat and tired tone as he sat down next to his boyfriend, who proceeded to gush about the diagram he had been sketching for a new building in his Duchy.

Logan guessed Janus had sent him here, in proximity and obligation to Remus, rather than stewing by himself in his room in case he found himself disagreeing with how this had been handled. Which he did, but only with the execution, and not enough to stop Janus at this point. Rely on me, Janus had said a few days ago now and at the time Logan had clammed up from the situation. Janus’ lips pressed against his ear, a hand on his shoulder, wine coursing through his blood; his mind had raced with possibilities and it wasn’t until now that Logan realized what a brilliant set up it had been.

Hopefully Janus got through to the others easier than him. Historically that hadn’t been the case yet but there was a severe lack of data to infer from. Logan had many chances to convince the others of various rationale at this point. Janus had only the opportunity twice. It was only fair that Logan would rely on him then, and try not to be bitter about it. They had been getting nowhere when he was involved and the only Side Logan could blame was Patton.

Minutes ticked by before Logan detected an opening for further input. Janus struggled with his metaphor, faltered and Logic appeared. Not that any of you care, he began speaking only really to Patton and Roman, but I am unharmed. Janus reacted negatively, perhaps assuming Logan was upset with him for the intrusion -- And I don’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t upset. At least not with Janus.

His explanation ensued and in a rare occurrence, everyone listened. Whether that was due to Janus having gotten their attention focused on the issue at hand or Logan finally having a convincing argument, in the moment he wasn’t sure. However nothing really spoke to the fact that Janus was an emotionally inclined Side more than the way he reacted to Logan putting a legitimate name to his stance; Effective Altruism. His expression was full of clear fascination at being taught something, intrigue to know more, attentive listening; it was Janus’ debut discussion on the stage all over again. The first time Logan had been so explicitly asked for frequent contributions in what had felt like forever. Logan easily fell back into the comforting feeling of being heard -- before sinking out and preventing himself from witnessing anymore absurd contradictions.

After leaving of his own volition to his room, Logan fell back on his bed with a sigh and removed his glasses. Everything was very difficult, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose; and it would always be difficult as long as Patton continued to be so frustratingly obtuse. Well, at least Janus got it, but seeing that he had an easier time getting through to the others felt bitter. It really did boil down to some … fallacy of Logic, didn’t it.

Logan lost track of time in the mire of his thoughts, at some point having opened his eyes to stare blindly at the ceiling. Everything had calmed down in the living room it seemed. Thomas was now preoccupied with his friends and the Sides were released to continue with their day. Only Logan wasn’t sure what it was he should be doing. A familiar question floated through his mind like an astringently sweet memory; was he even necessary?

“Well don’t you look comfy.”

“Janus,” Logan sat up and rushed to shove his glasses on.

“Oh sorry,” Janus whispered, gesturing with a limp wrist. “Was I interrupting? Were you experiencing an emotion? Should I leave?” Janus teased with drama in his soft voice. Logan cleared his throat.

“Considering you’re already here, no,” He stood and adjusted his tie. “Why are you here? I thought everything was taken care of.”

“It is,” Janus reassured smugly but then slowly crossed the room towards Logan, his eyes and fingertips indulgently dragging along the books lining the wall. “Are you saying I can’t visit?” He paused in front of Logan with pouting lips and a hurt expression. Standing a few inches too close, he reached a gloved hand to smooth the back of Logan’s mussed bed hair. “Check up on you?”

“I didn’t say that.” Heat overtook his face as he quickly looked away, dislodging the hand in his hair with the movement. “You can. I just wasn’t expecting you.” Janus frowned.

“I don’t know why,” he replied, quietly astounded. Didn’t they have an agreement? Why wouldn’t he come to...debrief or whatever after all that? Janus’ lips pursed in a wounded expression as he watched Logan take steps away, looking everywhere but up at him. “That’s beside the point however.” He huffed a soft sigh and tilted his head, attempting to meet Logan’s eyes. “You’re very angry, aren’t you?” He guessed. For once Logan wasn’t denying any of his emotions which was both progress and rather troublesome. The misguided assumption prompted Logan to finally acknowledge his gaze again at least. Janus thought his face was rather unreadable.

“No,” Logan shook his head, giving his own heavy sigh. “Frustrated,” he admitted like Janus was pulling his teeth.

Janus hummed with understanding, raising his chin with a nod. “Well I apologize,” He offered seriously, lifting half of his mouth in a genuine expression. “Perhaps I should’ve been a tad more explicit beforehand,” Janus shrugged shallowly, willing to admit his fault. “It did work however, so I thank you for relying on me. As ... difficult as that may have been.” Janus finished, all too aware of how manipulated Logan might feel; how artificial the moments of closeness they had together lately must suddenly seem -- and while Janus wouldn’t put that sort of thing past himself, it wasn’t true in this case.

“No,” Logan shook his head, blinking at Janus’ seriousness. “I’m not frustrated with you,” he explained slowly, diverted from his frustration for a moment in the misunderstanding.

“You’re not?” Confusion mixed with intrigue on Janus’ face. “Well, what are you frustrated with then?”

Logan rapped knuckles against his desk in thought, looking away from Janus again and down at the action. It was with pride that he regarded himself as Thomas’ language center. Words came easily to him, most of the time. Struggling to phrase things wasn’t an obstacle he faced frequently. However, more often than not, Janus made this part of his job difficult. At the same time, it wasn’t something he’d blame Janus for. It wasn’t Janus’ fault Logan thought he was captivating, distracting. Beautiful.

Logan’s knuckles went still on the desk. “As usual, I find myself frustrated with emotions.” Janus’ brow twitched; was it not just frustration he was feeling? Was there something more he couldn’t articulate? “More specifically,” Logan continued and rolled his eyes back up at Janus, “I’m frustrated with Patton, which is nothing new.”

“Ahh,” Janus breathed, the sound turning into a gentle chuckle. If he had been worried, the concern began to melt away. “Yes,” he nodded slowly, “I can easily imagine that.” Janus thought on their own interaction before his arrival here, in Logan’s room. It was ... very awkward. Patton seemed unwilling to discuss the matter further, or perhaps Janus had just been trying to beat a dead horse. “He’s very naive and difficult to communicate with.” Janus scrunched his nose.

Historically, he had an easy enough time understanding Patton. He was soft, liked to see the best in people even when he had very clear evidence not to. Patton was emotional and stubborn. There wasn’t anything too complicated about him that Janus didn’t get. It was when he attempted to employ the reverse of Patton understanding him where tragedy struck. For someone who boasted about empathy, Morality had an awful time seeing where Janus came from.

“Yes, precisely. He’s so stubborn,” Logan agreed enthusiastically. As he continued, he began to gesture wildly, speaking with his hands as much as his words to convey his growing level of frustration. “It’s incredible that you’re able to get through to him so effectively when I have been trying to do the same for years now. I mean, stubborn is a kind word for him at this point and he continues to prove that at every moral junction we come to. No, not even just moral junctions; daily undertakings and productivity suffer constantly because of his unreliability! It’s just,” Logan sputtered a humorless laugh, his hands falling hard against his thighs. “Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

Janus paused after Logan’s rant came to an end, cocking his head thoughtfully. In the silence Logan caught his breath with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, I … didn’t mean to blow up on you like that,” Logan apologized, dismissively shaking his head as embarrassment knotted his stomach.

“Oh no, it’s quite alright. Actually I appreciate it,” Janus quickly snuffed out Logan’s self consciousness. The words felt genuine enough and Logan took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the rising self resentment that predictably followed his emotional expression. “I was just contemplating your words, is all,” Janus continued reassuringly, and the sentiment took Logan by surprise. Why had he assumed Janus’ silence meant dismissal of his admission? “I suppose it simply comes down to a matter of communication methods,” Janus glanced to the side in a reflective pause. “You’re a teacher,” He continued after a moment, a gentle smile on his lips as he met Logan’s eyes again. “But Patton doesn’t take very well to being told things.” Logan snorted a knowing and arid laugh, but then thought on how Janus had communicated with Patton in the past.

“You also tell him things,” Logan’s brows furrowed. “He just seems to readily listen to you.”

“Ah, there’s a difference though,” Janus wagged a flimsy finger. “I don’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know at that point in the conversation. Patton’s like … a horse that desperately needs to drink, but refuses to, even when you bring the water to him directly. In such a case, you need to lead the horse to the water. But how do you get him there? Well, in Patton’s case, asking him questions that in turn make him question his own motives tends to work.”

“Ah, the Socratic method,” Logan interrupted as Janus paused.

“Exactly,” He nodded before continuing, “But more importantly, I hear his justifications. I try to see where he’s coming from so I can...clear a path, so to say, from his point A to wherever my point is.” Logan hummed thoughtfully and marveled at the amount of consideration Janus put into his communication with Patton.

It was admirable and Logan found himself agreeing, once again, with the many flattering adjectives Remus has used for his partner in the past. Graceful, patient, and ridiculously smart. His current explanation made a lot of sense, and Logan felt a bit stupid. He chuckled dryly and looked down, adjusting his glasses. Janus cocked his head, expression perplexed with raised brows.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No,” Logan sighed, “The opposite. You made a great point and I was wondering how I had never thought of that myself.” He admitted with an impressive amount of vulnerability. While the compliment felt nice, mostly Janus was now smiling with pride in Logan’s new found understanding and the handful of walls he had dropped in the process.

“Sometimes,” Janus sighed with a smile, approaching Logan as he had earlier; with steps that placed him just a little too close. “You just need some perspective.” He reached up with both hands and flattened Logan’s collar affectionately, the unexpected gesture making him inhale briskly. “I mean, we all do,” Janus continued, resting his fingers gently against Logan’s collar bones. “Not just you, of course.”

“Of course,” Logan repeated in a whisper that was more breath than words. Having Janus this close, he suddenly felt whatever intelligible response he may have had evaporate on his tongue as a heat quickly consumed his neck all the way to his cheeks.

Janus’ smile twitched wider as he lingered, mischievous amusement sparkling in his eyes. Logan was so easy to rile up; even with a foot between them right now, Janus could feel the attraction rolling off him like heat off concrete in the summer. If he continued to stand here, what would Logan do?

“How are you feeling now?” Janus asked after a silent moment. Under his hands, he could feel Logan’s heart rate pick up.

“Fine,” Logan answered automatically, the word cracking indecently. He cleared his throat which marginally brought his senses back. “Fine,” He repeated, shaking his head with a small smile. Janus thought the expression seemed a little forced.

“Good,” Janus nodded shallowly and paused for another beat before turning away, leaving the air around Logan significantly easier to breathe. “Well, if you need anything else,” Janus’ voice trailed off as he twisted the doorknob with one hand and raised another to delicately wave his fingers goodbye.

When his door clicked shut, Logan fell heavily back on his bed again with a groan that ended in a sigh.

Chapter One || Chapter Three

#loceit appreciation week #loceit week #loceitweek2021 #loceit #janus x logan #sanders sides fanfiction

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tedesquire · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I please add another request to my list? :D it's based off a Hey Arnold episode in which Bill and the reader are on a week long school vacation and they run into each other at the beach and Bill develops a crush on a pretty girl who befriends him but the reader finds out the girl's only using Bill to win a sandcastle contest in order to be on the show Baywatch. The reader tries to tell Bill but he won't listen and he eventually overhears the girl talking with her boyfriend and tells her off only to win the contest with the reader and they confess their feelings? 💕💕

Summer Lovin’

Words: 2554

Warnings: cursing, female pronouns (but no genitalia mentioned and no skin color specified) a bit of angst (fluffy ending though)

Author’s Note: first of all, I fucking love Hey, Arnold! and definitely love Helga G. Pataki with all my heart. She’s a weirdo and I love it. I knew exactly what episode you were talking about. I can't believe you got me to write 13 pages of fanfic for such a specific and niche fandom, but hey, I don’t do this for the fame. I do this for the little bit of serotonin my brain gets when I imagine myself in scenarios with fictional characters because real men are disappointing. (Mod Olivia)

You hated Bill. You hated the stupid way his stupid blonde ringlets caught the California sun, the stupid vacant look in his stupid sapphire eyes at almost all times, the stupid fucking sliver of tan skin he exposed with his crop tops that he somehow got away with at school. Not to mention you loathed the stupid fucking grin that he gave to his best friend Ted, the one that proceeded the ridiculous laugh the stupid boy had.

All these things you despised, detested, and loathed with every fiber of your being. Simple annoyances beginning since kindergarten snowballed into a big, white burning ball of hatred for the boy. Hatred that made your cheeks heat up and stomach churn, just as it was doing now.

You had been so excited for Spring Break, your family deciding to travel 5 and a half hours to a beach house in Half Moon Bay. A week of the sun, sea, shopping, seashells, boardwalks, and salt-water taffy, with no Bill to bother you.

So, naturally, when you had reached the beach after a long day of travel, the sight of Bill sitting on the sand in nothing but a swimsuit, skin glowing with tanning oil, made your heart stutter. Okay, perhaps you didn’t hate him… despise him, detest him, or loathe him entirely. From an outside perspective… some might even say that you were… in love with him.

Oh God, it was true. You couldn't stop thinking about Bill. He looked like he was sculpted after an angel. A prince charming on a white horse. And what he lacked in academic intelligence he more than made up for with kindness. He always treated you with the utmost respect, while you paid him back in nothing but sarcasm and insults.

You didn’t know exactly why you were so mean to him. Perhaps it was your nerves trying to stop you from getting overeager and admitting your crush. One day you were going to have to either man up and confess your feelings or get over him but that day didn’t seem to be approaching anytime soon.

You were intent on pretending he wasn’t here, setting up your own place to sunbathe until you heard your name fall from his lips.

“Y/n!?” Bill walked up behind you, prompting you to turn around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“Bill.” You stated dryly, “My family and I are staying nearby.”

“No way! My family’s right over there!” He pointed at a nearby beach house, a young woman who you recognized as recently-graduated and newfound wife, Missy Preston making out with Bill’s father on the porch. Ugh.

“Yes way.” You responded dryly. “We’re over there.” You pointed over your shoulder. “Isn’t this a coincidence, my ideal vacation ruined by the one person I didn’t want to see.” You noticed a flicker of disappointment flash in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. “Don’t get any weird ideas about getting all chummy with me, trying to hang out or anything. Just because we’re staying at the same beach and all.” You scoffed, causing him to flinch.

“Uh, yeah. Fine with me, y/n.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly before walking off. You eyed him, sighing softly.

“What is the matter with me?” You mumble, setting yourself down on the sand. This would have been the perfect moment to get closer to him if only you didn’t have to open your stupid mouth.

[Bill’s POV]

As Bill walked off, he felt most confused. He could never remember what he did to make you dislike him so much, but tried to get back on your good side. Thankfully, with the sun, sand, and waves surrounding him, Bill couldn’t stay too upset for too long.

He had decided to finally get in the water, heading towards the crashing shore when he had stepped on something.

Huh. Bill was met with the sight of a brightly colored bucket and shovel. Excellent! There was nothing more resplendent than a nice sand castle. Ted was going to be so jealous when he heard. All he was doing for the week was staying at home watching Deacon.

Too caught up in his new activity, Bill barely noticed someone approaching him.

“That’s a stellar sandcastle you have there.” Bill’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. Growing up in California he had seen his fair share of tan beach babes, but this one took the cake. A total babe. Talking to me.... Say something, dude!

“Thanks.” Bogus. Thank God Ted wasn’t here to see him blow his shot so odiously.

She pushed her sunglasses down her nose to look over the lenses, her bright eyes meeting his. “My name’s Summer.”

“Bill S. Preston, Esquire.” He puffed up his chest, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well, Bill S. Preston, Esquire, you seem to be a pretty great artist. That’s the best sandcastle I’ve ever seen.” His dark brows knitted in confusion, looking over her to see if she was teasing him. “I bet you’ll walk away with first prize from the sandcastle competition at the festival thing later this week.”

“Sandcastle competition?”

“Yeah! Whoever wins first place will get a guest appearance on Baywatch! But that’s not until the end of the week. How about, in the meantime, you can show me around the beach? It’s my first time visiting the bay.” Baywatch? That’s only the most triumphant show on television! Ted was going to be so jealous.

“Sounds most excellent! However, It is also my first time visiting the bay. Perhaps… we could explore the area together?”

“I like the way you think, Bill.” She winked, sitting on the sand next to him, the pair getting comfortable.

“What the hell?” You mumbled, looking over your book to watch Bill cozying up with a stranger. Your heart twisted painfully, swallowing thickly, You had no right to be jealous, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not to mention you were cruel to him in every interaction, but that didn’t stop a bitter taste from forming on your tongue.

You stood, collecting your things and trekking back to your beach house, the beach having lost its luster.

You were so over this vacation. You would have given anything to stay at home. It seemed everywhere you went, Bill and that girl seemed to be infecting the air with their infatuation.

For the past two days you’ve had to suffer watching the pair on the beach splash each other with sea water, build sand castles, and sunbathe with each other; However, that was nothing compared to today.

You and your family had decided to spend the afternoon on the boardwalk. There you had to endure the couple on the carousel holding hands, feeding each other saltwater taffy, and watching the sunset by the wharf. Most fucking heinous.

It was early evening, and thankfully, Bill and whatever her name was were nowhere to be seen. You didn’t know if you would vomit or cry every time Bill had given her that award-winning smile, the one you so badly wanted to be the recipient of.

You didn’t think it could get any worse, until you had leaned against the pier, ears picking up a familiar voice, Bill’s. Your heart fluttered, only to sink back down when you realized he was still with her under the boardwalk, back on the beach.

“Isn’t this amazing?”

“You are.” You scoffed at Bill’s attempt at flirting, ignoring the tightening of your throat.

“I’m so glad I met you.” She giggled. “I’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone.”

If it had been any other couple, you might have enjoyed such a romantic conversation. This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been such a bitch to Bill on the first day, perhaps it would have been you and him hanging out at the boardwalk.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here!”

“Excellent!” You heard him scat in that ridiculous, high-pitched way he did with Ted when they mimicked a guitar. As he walked off, you smiled, not noticing you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek.

You were such an idiot. If only you were able to act normal for a fucking minute and effectively communicate with Bill about your feelings. You had fucked up, it was too late.

“Hey!” You had heard her speak again, wondering if Bill had returned.

“Hey, babe.” That was definitely not Bill.

“It’s all going according to plan. I do believe Bill is falling head over heels for me.”

“Well who wouldn’t?” You rolled your eyes, angrily wiping the tears off your cheeks.

“He thinks I really like him. What a moron.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What the hell was she talking about?

“If he’s as good as you think he is, we’ll for sure win the contest and end up on Baywatch.” It only took you a second to connect all the dots. This jabroni was clearly her boyfriend, and she was only flirting with Bill to win the stupid castle contest.

You had heard enough, running back to the beach in hopes of finding Bill.

Fuck, all these beach houses looked the same. If Bill hadn’t pointed out which house he was staying at you would have no idea how you would find him.

You knocked on the door, praying you remembered the right house, and that Bill would answer instead of his hormonal parents.

“Y/n?” Thankfully Bill did answer the door, hair wet from what you assumed to be a recent shower. “How’s it...hanging?” He stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey. I’m sorry about being a dickweed earlier.” He seemed as equally surprised as you were by your apology. “Um, I guess I was just thrown off at your presence… that’s not really an excuse… anyways, the whole reason I’m here is about that girl you were with earlier.”

“Summer? What about her, dude?” Oh my gosh, of course her name was something as pretentious as Summer.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure how to tell you this, but… She’s using you. I was on the boardwalk, and I had overheard you leaving, and I guess her boyfriend came up to her.. Long story short, she’s going to try and get you to build her a sandcastle to win that festival thing at the end of the week and take the credit so they can win the roles on Baywatch.” You met his eyes, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

He stayed quiet, your eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s heavy. I mean, I’m not stupid. You’re usually most cruel around me, and now you’re acting all...nice? I do not think I’m falling for this one.”

“You don’t believe me?” You couldn’t believe it. “I know I could be less of a bitch to you, but I’ve never lied to you in all the years I’ve known you. You just met her three days ago!”

“Y/n…” He spoke carefully. “I think you were correct when you said we shouldn’t try to hang out just because we’re staying at the same beach.” Your throat tightened, that sour taste returning to your tongue.

“Fine!” You hissed. “I don’t even know why I wasted my breath and time trying to warn you. God, I wish we had never come to this stupid fucking beach!” You ran off his porch into the sand, face burning with shame.

Bill couldn’t stop thinking about your interaction yesterday. He was barely paying attention to anything Summer was saying to him. He wished Ted was here. He always knew what to say.

He walked beside her on the boardwalk, eyes glued to the crashing waves, mind replaying the scene over and over again.

“Bill, are you listening?” Bill blinked, turning to face her, cheeks flushing.

“Sorry.”

“I said I’m going to get more sunblock, you’re looking a little pink.”

“Oh, thanks, babe.” He heard her walk off, zoning out again. You had looked so betrayed when he didn’t believe you, but, it couldn't be you were telling the truth. Why would you do something like that? All you seemed to do was glare at him, brush him off, and scoff at his jokes. It was clear he wasn’t your favorite person.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts once more, looking around to see if Summer had come back yet. His eyes caught her figure walking up the beach and he raised his hand to wave, stopping when he saw her wrap her arms around some unknown guy. He was too far away to hear what they were saying but knew what it meant when she had kissed him. Y/n was right. And I was so non-non-non excellent to her.

Sweat was dripping from Bill’s brow, his chest heaving as he panted. He could not remember where your house was, even if it was supposedly close to his own. It was the third time he had run up and down the coastline, trying to remember where you had pointed four days ago.

This was ridiculous, he was never going to find you… until Monday, when you both would be at school. But that was days from now!

“Y/n!” He fell to his knees in the sand, trying to catch his breath.

“Bill?”

“Y/n!” It was a miracle. He noticed the basket in your hands, having collected odd rocks, seashells and glass while walking along the shore. You had been trying to explore away from your house, hoping not to run into the very man who was looking for you.

“How’s it… hanging?” You asked awkwardly, scanning the area for the female that was usually seen by his side. “Where’s Summer?” He scrambled to stand in front of you.

“Y/n, you were most veracious last evening. Summer had been pursuing me with malicious intent. I caught sight of her embracing her boyfriend and I knew you were speaking the truth. I regret the way I treated you. I should have trusted you.”

“I mean… You had reason to doubt me. It’s not all your fault. Besides, it seemed as if she really liked you. I probably wouldn’t have believed me either.” You coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly. “Um, to be honest, I really only acted so bogus because I… like you.”

“No way…” He breathed, trying to recall any instance where it seemed you had a crush on him.

“Uh.. yeah. Yes way.” Your cheeks pinked. “But I obviously don’t expect you to return the feeling. I just get really nervous around you so I guess I figured I should treat you like dirt instead of trying to talk to you like a normal person. But I was worried you would think I was too weird, or that I talk too much, or-” You were cut off by a pair of lips. It was so foolish… and so Bill.

“What about Summer?” You asked once he had pulled away.

“What about her?” It was just like Bill to not stay too upset for too long.

His gaze was burning, his lips curling into that perfect, knee-melting, pearly smile. That smile you couldn’t stand. That smile that you couldn’t believe was finally directed at you.

#bill s preston esquire #bill/reader #bill x reader #bill s preston/reader #bill s preston x reader #Bill and Ted #reader insert #Bill and Ted/Reader #Bill and Ted x reader #Bill and Ted imagine #Bill and Ted Imagines #Bill imagine #Bill S Preston imagine #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and ted's bogus journey #bill and ted fanfic #bill and ted face the music

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arpmemething2 · 3 years

Text

The Master/Missy Sentence starters

Quotes from the Master/Missy from the Doctor who used as sentence starters. Send one for my muse’s reaction. A few have been edited slightly to take out names and/or make them more generic.

"He keeps trying to kill me. Sort of our texting. Been at it for ages."

"Listen, listen, listen, listen. Every minute, every second... every beat of my hearts. There it is. Calling to me. Please listen."

"I've just been executed. Show a little respect."

“ You're about to have much bigger things to think about. I told you before that everything you knew was a lie. Well, now you get to face the truth, with me at your side. “

"Give us a kiss."

"What the hell are you up to, man?"

"Now then, I've got a planet to run."

“ Wake up. I know you're broken, but it's all over now. “

"This is not an exodus, is it? More of a beginning, really, isn't it?"

"You did this to me! All of my life! You made me! One! Two! Three! Four!"

“ When I said "someone" did that, obviously I meant... I did. “

"Without hope. Without witness. Without reward... I am your friend."

"I've got some requests. I want some new boots. Some toys, like a particle accelerator. A 3d printer and a pony."

"I'll scratch his eye out."

“ I do believe you're appealing to my better nature. And we both know I don't have one. “

"You do not understand hatred as I understand it. Only hate keeps me alive. Why else should I endure this pain?"

"I need my friend back."

"Never, never, never, never. Never dying. Never dying! Never dying, never dying, never dying!"

“Give a good man firepower, and he'll never run out of people to kill.“

"This country has been sick, this country needs healing, this country needs medicine – in fact I’d go so far as to say that, what this country really needs, right now, is a Doctor.”

"When I arrange for your death, I expect you to stay dead. "

"You could take the usual precautions...sticky tape on the windows, that sort of thing."

"Envy is the beginning of all true greatness!"

"You can't do this! You can't do...IT'S NOT FAIR!"

"Sorry sorry, I have this effect, people just get obsessed. Is it the smile? Is it the aftershave? Is it the capacity to laugh at myself? I dunno, it's crazy!"

“The human race… Greatest monsters of them all.”

"How sanctimonious is that?"

“Have you seen these things? This planet is amazing! Televisions in their stomachs, now that’s evolution.”

“Oh my giddy aunt. The quiet ones are the worst. “

“Oh, don’t be disgusting. We are not animals. Try, Nano-brain, to rise above the reproductive frenzy of your noisy little food chain and contemplate friendship. Friendship older than your civilization, and infinitely more complex.”

"Want more. I want cheese and chips, and meat and gravy, and cream and beer, and pork and beef, and fat, great big chunks of hot, wet red!"

"Believe it or not, we were at the academy together."

"Armies are for people who think they're right"

"Though, didn't you used to be a woman? I'm gonna be a woman, fairly soon. Any tips? Or maybe... I don't know, old bras?"

"Nobody could be more devoted to the cause of peace than I!"

"You know, I should shoot you in a jealous rage. Now wouldn't that be sexy?"

“ Please, try to keep up. Short for "Mistress" “

"How many times have you died?"

"Would it help you focus if I extracted some of your vital organs and made a lovely soup?"

“You don’t smell half as bad as you think you do. “

"Oh my giddy aunt. The quiet ones are the worse."

"You can't miss him. He's wearing yellow trousers and a vulgarly coloured coat."

"Did you never think, all those years standing beside me, to ask about that watch? Never?! Did you never once think, not ever, that you could set me free?!"

"I only need two things. Your submission and your obedience to MY WILL!"

"You make it sound like an invasion."

"Oh, the way you burned like a sun, like a whole screaming world on fire. I remember that feeling, and I always will... and I will always miss it."

"It's where we've always been going, and it's happening, now, today"

"Life is wasted on the living! "

“ Ooo, you look rough. Or is that a choice? Don't mean to conversion-shame you. “

“You know the best part about knowing? Not telling you! “

"Before we start all that, I just wanted to say: thank you. Thank you, one and all, you ugly, fat-faced bunch of wet, snivelling traitors."

"What's that in your pocket."

“ And spend... the rest of my life, imprisoned, with you? “

“Let the work of government begin “

"You remember all the people I've killed? Every day, I think of them all. Being bad... being bad. I didn't know I even knew their names. You didn't tell me about this bit."

“I’m in no hurry, I’ve got all day. And I’m not going to kill you until you say..something…nice.”

"Everything we were told was a lie."

"I'm going to kill you in a minute."

In 24 hours, the human race as you know it will cease to exist.

"You know the key strategic weakness of the human race? The dead outnumber the living."

"I always dress for the occasion."

“Take my hand or I turn them into tiny human dolls right here. “

"You see, you're my intellectual equal. Almost. I have too few worthy opponents. When they've gone I always miss them."

"Won't you show mercy to your own ... ?"

"You made it. I hope my boyfriend wasn't too mean to you."

“It’s a gas mask.”

"Ooh, nice little game of hide and seek, I love that! But I'll find you"

"That's because I locked it, idiot!"

"I have suffered long enough from your stupid, stubborn interference in my designs! Now we are coming to the end of our conflict"

"All or nothing, literally! What a glorious alternative!"

"This body was born out of death; all it can do is die."

"Okay, cutting to the chase. Not dead. Back. Big surprise. Never mind."

“This should be SPECTACULAR!”

“Have you seen these things? This planet is amazing! Televisions in their stomachs, now that's evolution. “

"No! No! You can't destroy me! I am too strong for you! I am too strong for you!"

"To do my will shall be the whole of the law!"

"No! You must be mad! Why with this, we could control every galaxy in the cosmos! We could be Gods!"

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rebelliouslala · 3 years

Text

4 Something

warnings- character death, language, cult like behavior, angst

word count- 1.7k

You had been introduced to everyone, but to be honest, you felt as if you could not memorize the men you had just met.

To be fair, there were 16 other men.

Selen was the eldest, and therefore the elder brother figure of the entire Pound. Mouse was the youngest. He was an “intern” at the Dream Gems. He sat next to Chenle, and whispered to him quietly in Korean. He looked so small in this gang. You assumed he had to join when he was possibly younger than you became a member in the Ripple.

Selen had made you meet the others, and even repeat their names. Victory sighed as he endured everyone hugging him and strangely calling him Orpheus. Selen, surprisingly, went quick. With each snap of his fingers, as if it were the 1920’s, he pointed and named.

Your head spun with the names; You only went by small descriptions to memorize each man. And even then, you had no idea. Osaka, or Herac was sitting next to a lean man, Zeus. This man was lanky, but smiled widely and laughed as he sang.

The one that Johnny sat next to, with his statuesque face was Aphrodite. He was breathtaking. Gogo- Hermes, was faced away from a very energetic boy, with feathery hair, Helios. You looked at another man, with a pinched nose, named Athene. Selen sat next to him. You stared at him, and he nodded at you silently.

And in this room, Johnny was not even referred to his name, his English nor Korean, but as Ares. You held his hand under the table.

“So, Eos has made this, Psy is their name, as a new spy. Now, Athene will make the plan.” Selen said loudly.

The man mentioned nodded, before he did a double take. “What? Hyung—?”

“Eos orders.”

Athene blinked, and he stood up, quietly kicking you.

“OW.” You stated with disgust, glaring up.

“Oh! Pardon me, would you mind punching Selen?” Athene said like a gent.

There was an ahem. The man who made the noise placed his hands under his chin. “Continue, Athene.” Aphrodite said with a coolness.

The other man sighed quietly, but he got out a scroll. It was curled, but he laid it out so everyone can see. Yuta -you didn’t even want to try to remember his name-, helped it keep it open with his elbow, and another boy who was introduced as Songbird, who smiled up at Athene.

Athene now read loudly, “My fellow Gods, demigods and mortals; we invite a new, fellow mortal by the name of Psy. They have a chance to take down our enemy. Because of this, all business is now closed. We will be quiet and we will,” Athene leaned closer, muttering to himself in Korean, “We will now not be active. Herac, Dolphin, Psy and Ares, shall all go to the West Side and take the corrupt Ripple down. Any news from our spies will be delivered by Songbird and Orpheus.” Athene sighed as he pulled away, “With Godspeed, Eos.”

You hid your smirk at his flat tone. Perhaps Eos was too much of a narcissist to even realize his team was much too sick of his dramatics.

Athene pulled the scroll back, and he blinked. “Any questions?”

“Yeah.” You crossed your arms, “Is Eos okay?”

Aphrodite scoffed and he looked at you through his lashes. The other men, including Selen, scoffed and harrumphed at your response.

“Well don’t look at me like I’m some sort of goon.” You stood up. “You all might’ve thought the same.”

“Eos,” said the young man you saw training earlier, you believe his name was Achilles, “Is a God among us. I am lucky to be seen as a demigod—,”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed Johnny’s shoulder, and whispered loudly, “What a cult, am I right?”

“Psy,” he whispered with guilt.

You turned, and sighed, holding the bridge of your nose as you looked upon everything. The shining waxed table. The white suits everyone wore. Their stares. How they all looked down.

“I’m going to take down the Ripple my way. Chenle—,”

“He is known as Dolphin!” Orpheus, started.

“Not another word out of your mouth.” You glared at him, before turning away, gently tapping Johnny.

He sounded worried. You’re already in enough shit. You should be dead. More than ever in this situation. With Eos. This is the worst scenario and your best friend didn’t know how to act. You held his hand tightly above the table and smiled.

“Let’s go. I will contact Ch- Dolphin, with updates. And or, Victory- Orpehus.” You giggled as Johnny stood up with you.

“Then Godspeed,” Helios said to you calmly.

“God damn,” you replied with a smirk, and pull your friend out as the others daggered your back with judgement.

And another, foreign dagger stared above the table, witnessing every single move you had just made.

The funeral was that. A funeral.

Nothing prepared you for the pain you felt staring at Yangyang’s body. His face was still, no smile, and he was so, so pale. Unlike the photo that was next to him. It was only from a few days ago. He was grinning. Laughing. It was with Mr. Money and Sushi, but they were edited out.

His real name was read out in multiple languages. From German, Chinese, Korean, English. It read the same. Liu “Dreamer” Yangyang. Friend. Son. Brother.

You gripped onto Johnny, and looked up at his eyes, trying to find his warmth. It had to be. It was supposed to be. Impossible. It had to be.

Johnny sighed quietly as his lips contorted, before he finally grabbed onto the words. “D-Do you remember how Dreamer always knew what you wanted for your birthday? And how he always shared with us the photos of Louis and Leon?”

A hot tear escaped your eye, as you hid in his huge chest and nodded. You nodded frantically as you began to sob. Johnny’s big hands held you, and he placed his chin on you, sighing quietly again.

The plan was ruined. You lost the man who should be here and hugging you and Johnny before you both went on a cruise to Korea, and then after that, the world.

You let go to breathe, biting the inside of your cheeks with anger. Your gaze turned to Victory’s tears, and Sushi looking at the youngest member’s body

His face reminded you, strongly of how you were young once. Running away and living with Johnny out on the streets of Baise. You had only one television, the news, and that broadcast that evening was of a grown woman crying, over and over in Taiwanese, “WHERE IS MY SON? WHO TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME?”

His eyes shared the same pain.

“Psy.” You turned as Mr. Money hugged you. Embraced you. He hid in you. “I-I can’t we could’ve lost you too. And John, we- fuck.”

Osaka was in the corner, looking down as he stared at the Ripple mourn.

Once Mr. Money had released himself, you stared at Jewel letting Smalls and Henry hug him tightly. Jewel despised any touching.

The fierce, cunning man, couldn’t even look what is inside the coffin. He only held the two now youngest members close to his heart.

Your hands gripped, nails digging to your palms. Now this was something you couldn’t take. The Pound may have you and Johnny’s lives on a string. But nothing could describe your frustration, to Sicheng. Victory. Whatever his name was.

To Yuta himself.

Osaka got up from his place on the wall, and he strutted himself to the coffin. He peaked over.

Today, the man wore not the white cult suit from the Pound, but a simple, and dull outfit. He took off his grey jacket, his white shirt bulging out oddly, as his black shoes, matching his black suit pants, had rubbed against the table that Dreamer was placed upon.

“He knew.”

Everyone turned to the man. Osaka took a katana from inside his shirt, and now the cloth hugged him. The weapon had a sky blue diamond handle. The blade itself was an opaque diamond. Osaka placed it in Dreamer’s hands.

Jewel stopped him, gripping it and he glared at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I thought perhaps—,”

Jewel grabbed it with both hands, and he threw back into Osaka’s chest, stepping forward. “You don’t touch his body. You don’t look at it. What the fuck happened there.”

“John already explained,” Smalls tried to explain.

“No, bullshit. John is a nice guy. We don’t even fuckin’ know Osaka- in fact. It seems his Japanese is a little shaky.” Jewel pushed Osaka now, speaking in Japanese quickly, with poison. Your ears weren’t the best in the language, but he did say something along the lines of, “Speak now or hold your peace, bitch.”

Osaka took the blows from Jewel. But he looked up. “We were all ambushed by Dream Gems. You know that they work under the Pound. We believe Chenle—,”

“BBall.” Mr. Money held his cane and separated the men.

“Listen. I’m sorry. I wanted to pay my respects—,” Osaka tried to reason.

“YOU DONT DO SHIT HERE!” Jewel roared, his eyes glowing with anguish. “YOU GOT HIM KILLED!”

“He’s not dead.” You said.

Everyone turned.

“Really? He’s okay? Di-,” Sushi started.

“He’s in a very deep, deep coma.” You slowly take your hand back, and put it in your pockets.

Henry teared up, hugging Smalls, “G-Good.”

“That doesn’t mean shit. Yuta needs to be investigated. On our last and final mission all of the sudden it goes wrong?” Jewel said as he glared at Osaka from the side of his eye.

“Then let’s attack The Pound.”

Johnny held your arm and gently pressed four times.

What.

Are.

You.

Doing.

“We need to make the Pound pay for what they did. And if Osaka isn’t bad, he’ll help.” You look at Osaka. “Won’t you?”

Osaka’s cold face suddenly melted to the side as he leans on a hip and he raised a brow, his smirk curving out as he said, almost naturally, “Perhaps I will for ya, doll.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Who should go with us?”

“Gogo. He’s reliable, after all he’s known Sushi for a long time too, hasn’t he?”

The big man nodded. “Yeah.”

You look at everyone. You planned for a bigger plan. A bigger dramatic. But that’s the Pound’s job. Right now, a plan, quite without common sense, was forming.

And the goal is was for you, and Johnny to be safe.

“For the Dreamer.” You said firmly.

“For the end.” The Ripple echoed back.

#nct #nct 127 angst #nct imagines #nct 127 #yuta angst #johnny angst #wayv angst #dee writes #4 Something

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Note

All of these pregnancy imagines really make me want one with a birth. Can you do one where the reader goes into labor and niall panics and they get to the hospital. He's freaking out about here pain and not being able to do anything and then in the end the happy moment seeing their child for the first time. I hope this isn't to specific.

NOTE: sorry i switched on my “hella activist” mode last night but thank you for your overwhelming patience anon and to everybody in need of a dad!niall imagine, here it is!

Code Word - N. Horan Imagine

“We should have a code word.” Niall deduces one night, with his arms wound around your middle and slowly rubbing the slight protrusion of your five-month-pregnant belly through your—his—soft, cotton shirt. While maternity clothes were a relaxing option to wear, nothing could compare to the comfort one of Niall’s shirts brought you. You sunk further into the couch’s back cushion and turned your head to study his profile. Niall already had the ‘dad’ look perfect, even before the big news was confirmed to both of you. His bearded chin and chest always appeared properly groomed, even on the days where he did nothing to them. His polo shirts and golf shorts told you exactly how he spent his Sunday mornings and took his burger at every barbeque he hosted. And if that was not enough evidence for how eager he was for his little girl to enter the world, the expansive list of pastel pink items in your amazon cart was definite proof.

“A code word?” You repeated. Niall hummed and continued the soothing motions against your stomach, not taking his eyes away from the television screen. “For what?” This was when his crystal blue eyes flicked away from the show you two had become most recently invested in and focused their attention on your confused features.

“For the lil’ one. When…ya know…” Niall’s tone made the answer seem obvious, but the awkward presentation and gesticulations of his free hand told you enough. He did not know how to say it, and you feared his struggle would worsen if you let him continue.

“Yeah, I know.” You bring your hand up to connect with his spastic one, still, mid-air, while he grins at the action, grateful.

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

“What about red?” Niall suggests, eyeing your figure from across the small kitchen table. Two months had passed since Niall brought up the brilliant idea of having a codeword for when your baby came. But choosing one that fit was easier said than done, both of you concluded.

“Niall, we’re looking for a codeword. Not a safe word.” You remarked, a bit more bite to your tone than pre-pregnant Y/N would have justified. But, at this moment in time, you were not bothering to bottle the hormones flying inside of you like hornets in a shrinking nest.

“Right,” he mutters. “Why don’t we just use her name?”

“Great idea,” the bitter chuckle stings Niall’s insides more than they should have. He knows you do not mean any of the harsh words you were directed at him so suddenly, but it was hard to remind himself of it from time to time. “If only we could decide on one of those, too!” You exclaim, falling back against the chair and crossing your arms. Tilting your head back, you suck in a deep breath and try to control the oncoming migraine tapping at your temples.

“Maybe we should leave the name thing for later.” This statement from Niall concludes the conversation.

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

Eight months in, and it became clear that the stress from an impending newborn was all too heavy on your and Niall’s shoulders. Both of you could only remain serious for so long, which could have been a factor in your tense conversations. Another reason would be that neither of you had left the house much for things other than work or grocery runs. Especially you, who felt like you had not seen the light of day for years. Niall would leave for the studio to record for three hours maximum a day, before coming back home to attend to his new top priority: you.

When the two of your first heard the news, a small disappointment settled over you at the fact that you would need to stay sober the following nine months from alcohol, caffeine, and anything high in sugars. It surprised you when Niall opted to join the boycott against drinks, especially alcohol. Niall spoke drunken slurs like his second language, so it took multiple times of asking him if he was sure he wanted to give what he described as “sweet nectar” for almost a year.

This took much correcting on Niall’s part. Anytime he was invited to the pub with his friends, he kindly declined and predicted he would not be able to control himself. Tonight, though, you and Niall decided to make your own drinking game. To liven up the activity of scouring through baby name websites, the two of you ordered from your local Thai restaurant and made up your own drinking game to complement the night’s festivities.

“Anytime we find a name we hate,” you explain, lifting the bottle of orange juice and nodding to another you set in front of Niall, “we take a sip. Then, by the end of the night, we’ll have a good spectrum of what names we like.”

“Good idea, petal.” He smiles proudly in your direction, before furrowing his brows at the vibrantly colored drink. “But why orange juice?”

“It was the closest we had to screwdrivers.” You shrug with a giggle.

And the game ensued, both of you taking turns reading down the list of baby names on various websites from Niall’s computer and sipping sparingly at the bottled juice. There were a few names the two of you reacted differently towards. Niall would not his head in approval at how nice Brooklyn sounded, while you nearly choked on your juice beside him. Before you could argue your disposal towards the name Vivian, Niall was shushing you and emphasizing how much he did not want his daughter named that with a large gulp of juice.

Two and a half hours later, empty take-out containers and hollow orange juice bottles sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, along with a list of names you and Niall were agreeable with. You were splayed back against his chest, body fitting cozily between his thighs.

“That was really good orange juice,” you murmur amidst the comfortable silence. At this point in your nine-month-long journey, Niall learned not to question what your baby brain thought necessary to say aloud. Rather, he hums in agreement and sets a soft kiss against the crown of your head.

“It was.” He approves, leaning forward to rest his chin atop your head. “We should by just oranges next time and try making some. My mum has this recipe for some I’ve been wanting to try out.” You let out an enthusiastic hum and close your eyes, fully relaxing against your husband’s torso.

“Clementines are better.” You counter. It was silent for a moment until the noise of Niall shifting from underneath you enter your ears. His eyes land on yours with a triumphant grin when you tilt your head back against him.

“What?” You demand, unable to hide your smile by the sight of his contagious one. ‘

“Clementine…s’ a pretty good codeword. Don’t you think?” When the energy of Niall’s mental lightbulb is transferred to yours, the grin on your face stretches to match his.

“Clementine…I love it.” Impending tears blur your vision before you could even realize the hormones invading your system yet again. Niall pulls you back into his chest immediately, rocking your body back and forth as he laughs boisterously in celebration.

“It’s happening, baby. We’re going to have a lil’ clementine!”

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

“Niall, baby, it’s happening.” Your shattered breaths made it difficult for the announcement to leave your mouth as more than a whisper. “Niall!” Your voice croaks as the wet feeling in between your legs intensifies, and you are hitting the man beside you only seconds later in a desperate cry for help. He groans and stirs before his silhouette is rising beside yours on the bed.

“What is it, petal?” He inquires, knuckling at his eyes through a deep yawn. Not only seconds later were they as swollen as your nine-month stomach when you cried out hysterically.

“Clementine! Clementine!” Your husband was up in an instant, shuffling the opposite side of the bed where you lay in a panic.

“Shit!” He hisses. “Alright, come on let’s get you to the car.” His outstretched hand felt like putty in your painful grip as he led you to the car which held the baby bag and changes of clothes for the two of you when the fateful day had arrived. Niall was grateful for the extra shirts he thought to pack and hastily snatched one from the back seat, tossing it over his frame and scurrying into the driver’s side. He continued enduring your teeth-grinding squeezes through the fifteen-minute car ride, wanting nothing but to smother your whimpers and pleas to drive faster with one of his famous hugs or back massages.

Walking you out of the car and into the hospital proved to be even more of a difficult task. The pain lighting flames in your insides and the prominent ache in your feet left you stubborn to move from your spot in the car seat. Niall caved into your arguments of not moving and sped into the hospital, almost ramming his middle into the receptionist’s desk from his run.

“Hi, um—I need help. M-my wife, she’s in the car and c-can’t move. She’s…she just…” Niall was trying to find the right words. Damn, if only the bewildered woman at the desk knew his mind as well as you did. “I can’t…c-clementine.” Niall sputtered out desperately. The woman raises her hands and stands herself up from her chair.

“Sir calm down. You said your wife needs medical attention?”

“Yes.” Niall breathes out, bloodshot eyes desperate and pleading.

“I am going to call the doctors on staff right away. Would you give me the patient's name and a description of the vehicle?” After following all instructions, the nurse recommends Niall too wait outside with her until the doctors to show up. The entire time, Niall waits by her side and kisses her clammy hands, mumbling small words of encouragement to you. A gurney and group of doctors are at your side moments later and situating you atop it. Niall chases you down the hallway, never taking his eyes of your bloated stomach bouncing up and down through breaths.

Everything calmed down for the most part when the midwife taking care of you introduced herself.

“So, is it a boy or a girl?” She questions you and Niall.

“Girl.” The two of you harmonize.

“Awe, and what’s the cutie’s name?” She coos, adjusting some of the machinery surrounding you. The way you and Niall’s panicked expressions turned to each other was instantaneous. Both of you sat there in the room, picturing the yellow, legal pad scrawled with names for your daughter never decided on.

“We never chose,” Niall whispers, wide-eyed. The doctor catches his comment, though.

“Oh, that’s alright. You still have plenty of time to discuss and choose. Most parents don’t know until they see their child.” She points. “I am going to gather a few more things…did you want that yoga ball still?” The hospital gown you were now donning was clenched in your fist and you whimpered, now being reminded of the insufferable pain your clementine was causing. You managed a weak nod and turned to peek at Niall, who was lost in thought.

“Okay, what names do you remember writing down?” You ask upon the sound of the door clicking shut.

“Uh…” he scratches the back of his head, “let’s see, there was Cynthia, Naomi, Harper—”

“Harper! Yes, I liked that one a lot.” The name was always taunting the back of Niall’s mind, in every daydream of his where the two of you would be gazing down at the small girl, cradling her in his arms and welcoming her to the world with tearful eyes.

“Okay, so it’s decided. Harper Jamie Horan.” The name rolled off of his tongue, and for some reason, you nodded your head to confirm your future daughter’s name. But the longer you waited, and the more contractions which rolled through your body like steep hills, it was not sitting well in your mind. Both of you decided earlier on that the middle name should take after Niall’s simply due to the fact that you adored it so much. If you were having a boy, the alternative would have been James.

Maybe it was the middle name idea or that Harper just did not have the right ring to it. There was not too much time for you to relax and ponder over what exactly you just agreed to, because you were too focused on getting the small child out of you first.

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

“Alright, Y/N. It’s time.” The doctor instructs. “Start pushing for me.” Not too long after obeying her words, your blood-curdling screams were reverberating against the walls. That epidural you had been given only half an hour prior was surely defective, you thought as you gave another hard push. The doctor gasps.

“I see it! I see the head! Keep going, Y/N!” She encourages with a few beckoning nods. A sob racks through your chest as you keep your tight grip on Niall’s hand. By this point, his fingers were numb, but he was not about to disrupt this moment of distress to complain about a mild concern.

“Y/N, you’re losing strength. Take a deep breath for me, just a few more pushes I promise.” The midwife advises, staring at the small fetus’s head beneath your gown. You follow her guidance, chest heaving up and down before a groan rattled your frame as you pushed once more.

“I-I can’t push anymore.” You refuse, shaking your head. The sight of tears streaming down your face was not a pretty one to Niall.

“Yes, you can, honey. You know you can. I believe in you okay. You can do this.” You whimper and gaze down at your lap, sniffling back the tsunami of tears pooling behind your eyes. Niall’s fingers were beneath your chin in an instant, lifting your face to meet his hopeful eyes. “Y/N Horan, you are the strongest woman I know. And you’re going to push for me and Clementine, okay?” Niall asks. The nickname he still finds himself using pulls at the seams in your heart as no other thing could. You shake your head furiously in a nod, before turning your head back to the nurse.

“Ready, Y/N?” Niall’s lips connect to your pulsing temple. “Push!”

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

The smell of sweat and disinfectant intoxicate your nose. A heart-wrenching cry of something shrill enters your ears and you find yourself laying back against the hospital bed, panting and sticky from sweat and your congested nose.

“Mrs. Horan, I’d like you to meet your new daughter.” Your mouth drops at the sight of a bundled cotton blanket approaching you. Only a small thumb could be seen poking out of it until one of the nurses crouched down to hand her to you. Her eyes were drooped shut as nonsensical whines left her mouth, and all you could manage was a small coo.

“Hi…I’m your mommy.” You giggle through snuffles of your nose. The tears you thought had left built back up all too soon. “Ni, look at her.” You whisper, but he was all too entranced by the sight of his daughter before you had even spoken. He wonders what color lie behind her pale, pink eyelids, and what the first word would be out of her small, crying mouth.

“Nice to meet ya, little one.” Niall’s large hand approached her smaller one and the feeling his calloused thumb bumping against her smooth skin has her small fingers wrapping around it and quieting her cries. “You look just as gorgeous as your mother.”

“So what’s her name?” One of the nurses inquired. You opened your mouth and stared craters into Niall’s profile. The feeling was all too familiar to him this far in with you that it was instinct to face your wondering gaze.

“I actually had a different idea.” You mumble, before leaning closer to whisper the name into his ear. After you do, a grin like no other stretches across his face. His heart was wrapped in accomplishment, proudness, and overall love for the two females seated beside him. It was astounding how one of them was changing her name for him only years ago, and now they are naming one of their own together. But you’d be damned if it was not worth it. After all, Harper Clementine Horan was a pretty sweet name.

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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

As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

Not Your Hero. chapter 5.

Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four,

AN: Let The Games Begin.

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Mags Flanagan

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation, sexual harassment

Prompt/Inspiration: Cringe - Matt Maeson

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

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

By the time you made it back to the tribute center, you’d stopped crying and had instead gone numb. You’d taken your shoes off at some point. Your feet were cold. You sniffed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand and remembered, too late, the make up you’d been wearing.

“Fuck,” you said, without any real emotion as you took in the black smudge-marks on your hand, “that’s annoying.”

You weren’t surprised to find Finnick in your living room when you opened the door to your suite. When your client had first started to pull you away, you’d panicked and searched for Finnick with your eyes, but you never found him. Now, some part of you was grateful for that.

He looked a mess. His blazer was flung haphazardly over one end of the couch, his bowtie was loose, the sleeves of his shirt were dirty and rolled up past his elbows and his auburn locks were sticking up in all directions, like he’d been carding his fingers through his hair. He was watching a recap of the tribute parade on television but, when the door clicked into place, he whipped around. His eyes met yours and, as soon as they did, as soon as you saw the care there, the fear and tenderness all swirling together in the eyes of someone you trusted so much, you broke.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, tears spilling over your cheeks in a rush as sobs threatened to tear themselves free from your throat. In a second Finnick had leapt over the back of the couch and was in front of you, his arms half outstretched, like he wasn’t sure whether or not he could-

You launched yourself into his arms, collapsing against his body and letting him engulf you in a firm embrace. He smelled like vanilla and bourbon, and something cool and wild, like the ocean and you clung to that like a life raft, letting it flood your senses and block out everything else. Finnick held you like you were something precious, letting you cry into his shoulder while he stroked your hair and whispered comforting words into your ear. It was so gentle, so loving and tender that it made you feel painfully fragile, like you might shatter into a million little pieces at any second. Part of you wanted to pull away and hide, to push Finnick out and never let anyone touch you ever again. The other part thought that, if Finnick ever stopped touching you, you might die.

“I’m okay,” you eventually sniffed, your voice thick with tears and muffled by Finnick’s shirt.

“No you’re not,” he replied, squeezing you tighter, “I know you’re not.”

“I am,” you insisted, pulling away slightly to look Finnick in the eye, “I mean, I’m not but, the worst is over now, right? It’s done, I don’t have to be afraid of it happening anymore because it’s already happened.”

Finnick looked concerned, like he was fighting the urge to argue, but eventually he nodded.

He reached out and brushed your hair out of your face, making you shiver, “Come on, you should get cleaned up.”

For a moment you panicked. The thought of being alone with your thoughts suddenly so overwhelming that your heart froze but, as Finnick gently took your hand and led you down the hall, you realised what he’d meant. Finnick Odair had no intention of leaving you on your own, he wanted to take care of you. Without so much as a word, he washed your face, combed out your hair and put your shoes back in your closet. He waited outside while you showered, scrubbing yourself clean more times than you needed to because you couldn’t escape the feeling that you’d missed a spot. When you were clean and wrapped in a bathrobe, he helped you pick some pyjamas, three sizes too big with long sleeves and long pants and, while you changed, picked up the dress you’d stepped out of and took it away, putting it somewhere where you’d never have to look at it again.

By the time he got back, you felt almost like yourself again, or more accurately, like someone who could be you, given time. You’d slipped into bed and were sitting up against the headboard, staring into space and trying to convince yourself that it was time to sleep. Finnick, still without speaking, clambered in on the other side and shifted so that his side was pressed against yours. You snuggled into him, resting your head on his shoulder and letting him wrap an arm around your waist. It was comforting and warm and safe with Finnick, the kind of safe you couldn’t remember feeling since the games and you thanked your lucky stars that you’d met him when you did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Finnick asked.

You shook your head, “Not really. I think you can probably imagine what happened.”

“Thadius?”

“No, some banker’s son named Proculos. He said he liked my hair.” you explained.

Finnick nodded, “I’ve met him. He’s a prat.”

“He is a bit,” you agreed, “but at least he’s too stupid to be mean.”

Finnick chuckled, even though nothing about the situation was funny, and gave you a gentle squeeze as you lapsed into comfortable silence.

“Thank you, by the way,” you eventually said, “for being here.”

Finnick smiled to himself, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

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

From there, life took on a strange kind of normalcy. Most of your time was spent coming up with strategies for your tributes or watching past games and taking notes. You hung out with the other victors in the sponsor rooms, made connections, charmed people, did interviews. You never talked about what happened with your clients and Finnick never asked you to, but he did watch you a little more intently than before, searching for any signs of distress. On his part, Finnick felt like he was being ripped in half. Every second spent worrying about you was a second he wasn’t spending on Annie and, every second he spent with Annie was a second not looking out for you.

How had this happened? How had Finnick Odair, king of the capitol, known bachelor and playboy, become so deeply entangled in the lives of the people around him?

“Hey, you,” you greeted, breathing heavily as you took a seat next to Finnick, “why the long face?”

You looked incredible, Finnick noticed with his usual pang of annoyance, with your hair pulled off your face and tight fitting training gear on. You’d taken Gloss up on his offer to train you in your free time, building up your strength and endurance with the fiery determination that Finnick had always admired in you so much. It was working too. In the few days it’d been happening, Finnick could already see the beginnings of real improvement. It made him absurdly proud.

“Annie.” He explained, “She’s not getting the buzz she needs from sponsors.”

“There’s still time,” you assured him, “and maybe when the training scores come out-”

Finnick cut you off, shaking his head sadly, “She won’t get higher than an eight.”

“An eight is good!”

“An eight is standard,” Finnick corrected, “at least for us it is.”

“I’d pay someone to give Adam an eight,” you sighed, “right now I’m expecting a five or six.”

Finnick cursed his own insensitivity, “Sorry, Y/N. No one really cares about the training score anyway, unless it’s super high or unreasonably low. They’re not really an indication of how well he’ll do.”

You shrugged, drinking deep from the water bottle you were holding, “I know,” you replied, “I only got a five on my year and look at me now.”

“Exactly,” Finnick smiled, “but for careers…”

“You’ve got to be better than good to stand out,” you commiserated.

“Yup.”

You opened your mouth to say something but, before you could, Gloss called you over. You shot Finnick one last sympathetic look and stood to leave.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” you called.

Finnick nodded, pushing down his disappointment, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” you smiled.

And, just like that, you were gone, leaving Finnick with his thoughts. He knew he was moping, that there were surely better ways for him to be spending his time than sitting around feeling sorry for himself but, as he watched you and Gloss training in the distance, he couldn’t muster up the energy to do any of it. Without meaning to, he let his mind drift back to that first, horrible night when you’d broken down in his arms.

Never in his life had Finnick been so filled with rage. Not when he was reaped, not when his parents had died, never. That night, for the first time, Finnick had understood the desire to cause pain and fear in another human being. He hadn’t wanted to kill the person who’d touched you, he’d wanted to destroy them, to slowly cut away little pieces of them, one by one, until nothing was left but the raw, ugly, corrupted heart of them. He wanted to make them so afraid, wanted them to feel the pain they’d caused so acutely that they begged for death. Only then did he want to kill them.

It was a terrifying feeling, knowing that that monster lay inside of him somewhere, that it could come out at any time and do something terrible to the people he loved. How could a man be capable of such thoughts, such passionate hatred and such tender care? How could a man be both, without the two sides tearing one another apart?

Despite popular belief, Finnick wasn’t actually an idiot, he knew it was because of you. He knew he cared about you more than he should and his feelings were just a reflection of that but, nevertheless, it made him deeply uncomfortable. That’s why he’d decided to keep his distance a little, put some space between the two of you, redraw those lines separating friendship from more that had become so blurry. It was harder than he’d thought it would be. You were just so...you all the time, and he wanted to be around that every single day. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. For both of your sakes, it would be better if he wasn’t. He had other obligations after all, other responsibilities. Annie needed him focussed.

He remembered the look on her face when she stepped on the train like it was yesterday, all wide eyes and abject terror.

“This is insane,” she muttered, “Fin, what’s going on? How is this happening?”

He shook his head, still reeling from the shock himself, and pulled her into a rough hug. His ears were ringing, his fingers were numb, everything around him felt like it was happening in slow motion. Annie? Why Annie? She’d never taken out tesserae, she wasn’t a star pupil at the academy... It didn’t make sense. Why had no one volunteered? Why had she ended up alone on that stage?

It’s because of you, the voice in his head whispered, it’s because of you. You did this, you doomed her. Because of course it had been rigged. There was no way that, in all of district four, Annie Cresta, known associate of Finnick Odair, could be picked randomly for the Hunger Games. It couldn’t happen. This had to be some sort of message from Snow.

Which meant, Finnick realised with growing horror and dread, that it was his fault. She was here, sentenced to die, because of him. Shame wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt.

He pushed himself up and made his way back to the elevator, determined to get some work done before the event that evening. Finnick could hear your voice echoing against the walls and, for a second, he considered just staying for a little longer. He’d almost decided that he would stay when the elevator door closed behind him and Finnick was reminded, once again, that he was alone. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the fourth floor. He felt like he was making the right decision, but why did it have to be so hard?

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

When the big day came you felt woefully unprepared. Ever since the victory tour you’d spent every free second trying to make sense of this moment. The start of the games. The first day. Everyone told you that the first one was the worst that, as the years went by, it would get easier. It was meant to be comforting but, to you, it had always sounded more like a threat.

You took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly through your mouth as the hands of the clock ticked on, bringing you closer and closer to the moment of truth. You were vaguely aware of the other mentors flitting around the large viewing room but they were like flies or little birds; pretty, but ultimately distant and unimportant when compared to the screen in front of you. You cracked your knuckles. It should be starting soon. Where was Adam right now? You wondered. Was he in the loading bay? Did he have his tracker in? Had his stylist helped him into his clothes already? Surely she must have. Your eyes flicked to the clock. Yes, by now he would be dressed and ready, maybe even already in the tube. What did they have in store for him?

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you swallowed hard past the lump in your throat. Arketia was explaining what to expect and you were trying to listen, you really were, but your eyes kept being pulled towards the glass ascension tube in the corner of the room. It was like a magnet, pulling you closer and closer to death with every passing second and there was nothing you could do but stare.

A rough hand under your chin pulled you back to the present.

“Focus!” Arketia insisted forcefully, “I’m trying to save your life here you silly girl.”

You winced as her grip dug into your chin, but nodded, recognising the sincerity in your stylist’s eyes.

“Sorry.”

Her gaze softened and she let go, gesturing to the outfit in front of you again, “Like I was saying; this is all cotton or some other lightweight fabric designed to breathe,” she explained, “except for the jacket. That means hot days and cold nights, you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered, looking over the beige and khaki outfit with a growing sense of dread.

“I would bet on it being some sort of desert,” she continued, “like a savannah or veld land.”

Your bottom lip trembled with the effort to stop yourself from crying, and you could feel the tube pulling your gaze, but you resisted. Arketia was trying to help. And, some part of you pointed out, this might be the last friendly interaction you would ever have.

“If it is, you have to find water, and soon,” she told you, a sort of desperation in her eyes, like she was trying to burn the information into your brain with only her gaze, “you’ll lose a lot in those high temperatures, more than you expect. And it’ll get extremely cold as soon as the sun goes down, so try to find somewhere sheltered to sleep, alright?”

You nodded, biting back a comment about how that was fairly general advice and letting her help you strip out of your fancy capitol clothes. All too soon you were dressed, and all you could do was wait together, sipping on bottles of water like they were a lifeline and letting your anxiety creep up and up and up and up.

“Jesus Christ, you’re really not listening to me, are you?” A voice questioned, snapping you out of your reverie with a jump.

Finnick collapsed onto the couch next to you, his perfectly sculpted face the picture of calm. You could see the tension he was holding in his body though, in the way he held his shoulders and fists. As you examined him further you could see the signs of sleepless nights in his face too. You smiled weakly.

“You look wrecked,” you teased, “your stylist didn’t have something to cover up those designer eye bags?” You asked, poking his cheek with your finger.

He laughed, moving his head away from your prodding, “Hey! Who asked you, kid? It’s rude to pick on me in these trying times.”

You scrunched up your nose, “Oh come on, you know you look perfect as usual. I pick on you purely out of jealousy.”

The banter was light hearted and joking but you both knew that it was nothing more than a smokescreen, a comforting exchange that kept you both from spiralling into uncontrollable panic and fear.

“Aww, Y/N/N,” he replied, the smile not quite reaching his eyes, “you’ve got nothing to be jealous of, kid.”

You flushed but, before you could answer, the anthem rang through the crowded room, silencing everyone and drawing their eyes towards the screens. You felt Finnick tense up beside you but you were frozen in place. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the cold hand of dread gripped your heart. For a moment, as the screens came to life, all you saw was the savannah, the miles and miles of brush and sand and the blistering sun, and the cornucopia; blindingly bright in the sun. And you were right back in it. Only the faint brushing of Finnick’s knee against yours pulled you back. You took another deep breath.

“I can do this,” you promised yourself, “I can do this.”

And with that, you pushed your panic deep down into the recesses of your mind and focused on the scene before you. You heard Finnick sigh with relief, and a few quiet sounds of celebration from the other mentors and you couldn’t help but agree, feeling the knot of worry in your chest loosen slightly. The arena was green, with sloping hills creating a sort of river basin and a towering wall of concrete and cement in the distance that looked like a dam. That fact, in particular, made you smile. Your district was full of dams, they were how you generated power and, even if the dam in the arena was unhelpful, you knew the sight of it would give your tributes some comfort the same way the river would for the tributes of district four. James caught your eye and gave you a brisk nod.

You heard the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith as he announced the start of the games, and the roaring cheer and excitement of the crowds of thousands of Capitol citizens who had gathered in the outside viewing areas. It made a rush of bile rise up in your throat.

The countdown began and, instinctively, you reached out and grabbed Finnick’s hand, squeezing tight as your eyes finally found Adam.

“3….2….1,” the robotic voice called.

“And so it begins,” Finnick said softly.

You nodded, “And so it begins.”

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

@i-love-you-green , @heatherhollowayst

123 notes · View notes

asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ not alone ❞, l.ty

synopsis → “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

word count → 2.5k

warnings → angsty!!! the plot may not make sense since it’s literally 1 in the morning oops

a/n → i hope this concept makes sense and it isn’t too confusing or messy!! if it is just shoot me an ask i would be more than happy to clarify :] anyway i actually like the outcome of this but i am too tired to go back and reread it all for any mistakes so i just hope google docs has my back lol gn everyone

7:00 A.M.

the alarm you set for every year at the exact hour goes off at its appointed time, much to your dismay. the mere sound of your phone beeping has a knot forming in your stomach. you wished it would stop, that everything would just stop but that was beyond unrealistic. in fact, you felt foolish for even letting yourself think like that. no matter how badly you wanted things to change, they never would. you would have to endure the same things every year.

you had struggled to fall asleep the night before, that exact thought on your mind and the dread of facing the following day eating away at you. you had only managed to get some rest because of taeyong, who held onto you tightly and caressed your hair as he whispered sweet words to ease you into much needed sleep.

but the day was here now and there was no amount of romantic words or tender touches that would change that. there was absolutely nothing either of you could do about it.

you lean over towards your nightstand to turn off the alarm and taeyong stirs when he feels you begin to shift around in his arms. you lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling as he slowly begins to wake up. he yawns and stretches his limbs out on the mattress which was routinely for him. this would usually be followed by him trying to give you a smooch only for you to squirm away, giggling as you complained about his morning breath.

it is not one of those mornings.

8:09 A.M.

you end up having cereal for breakfast, another big switch up from your routine. normally, you two would browse the internet in search of a recipe that looked promising and try your best to recreate it. you would end up with flour, sugar and dirty dishes all over the place but you never cared. then you would sit at the couch, happily enjoying the finished product and chatting with the tv playing softly in the background.

that morning you sit at the dinner table silently, the cereal in your bowls going soggy before either of you had made a dent in it. you had lost any appetite and from the looks of it so has taeyong.

“you should eat.”

you glance up at your boyfriend. he isn’t eating either, instead he focuses on dipping his spoon into his cereal, bringing it above the bowl only to let it fall back in again. you put your silverware down. “i don’t think i can.”

he hums softly, agreeing with you. “are you nervous?”

it went without saying that you were both terrified. but you know he’s just trying to make conversation. you just nod your head anyway.

10:31 A.M.

you and taeyong move to sit on the couch, turning on the tv so you don’t have to bear anymore uncomfortable silences.

even the newscaster looks down in the dumps, as expected. her voice lacks emotion as she speaks about the forecast, knowing nobody would be taking genuine interest unless it was to get their mind off of the current situation.

what did she expect? the world was restarting, people weren’t going to care about the weather.

“now, for the ongoing events,” says another news anchor. “as we are all well aware of, today is the annual reset. businesses worldwide have closed, most people opting to spend the day with their friends and family and we advise any viewers to do the same. talk to your loved ones about the memories you’ve made in the past year and write down the things and people you do not want to forget.”

you turn to taeyong only to find his gaze is already focused on you. you don’t hesitate to grab the hand that rests in his lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. neither of you say a word as you go back to watching the television, taeyong giving your hand a reassuring squeeze every so often.

12:46 P.M.

by noon, you and taeyong had begun cleaning your apartment, making sure it was well organized so that the next day you could focus only on getting settled in to your, essentially, new lives. you do the standard dusting and vacuuming along with similar around-the-house chores. while going through the closet, taeyong finds a shoe box full of polaroids you two had taken throughout the years. there are dates and other additional notes scribbled in sharpie on every single picture so your post-reset selves could read about the details of each photo since you would not be able to remember it. he calls out your name, smiling brightly when he sees your face light up as you fondly look over your shared moments.

“i’m so glad we got that camera,” you say, shifting through a stack of the photographs.

he nods. “probably your best idea yet.”

you find a picture of him giving you a piggyback ride and coo. it’s quite blurry but you can clearly see the huge grins on your faces. “look at us.” you hand him the photo. “we look so happy.”

he makes a noise of agreement, staring lovingly at the image. “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

“quit it.” you shove his shoulder, smiling sadly as you attempt to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. “i don’t want to cry right now, there’s still so much work to do.”

“it can wait.” he opens his arms and that’s all it takes for you to break. you crawl into his embrace, sobbing softly into his chest. it tugs at his heart strings. he tucks his chin above your head but you still notice how his shoulders shake and quiet hiccups escape his lips.

3:28 P.M.

once you and taeyong get tired of being confined to your apartment, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air. you walk around aimlessly and your final destination turns out to be olympic park. as expected, it’s quite empty since as you had heard on the news, everyone was spending their last couple hours with those they loved in private.

you take in the beautiful scenery and if either you catch sight of a pretty rock or blooming flower, you will stop to pick it up and carefully place it in your pockets for safe keeping. you had found that they served as good reminders of all the time you spent together. in fact, there are many more of these mini souvenirs in your home, decorating your shelves.

“hold up,” says taeyong suddenly.

when you look at him his eyes have zeroed in on something on the ground. he kneels down and picks up a smooth rock. you can’t help but notice the familiarity of it’s color.

“pretty, right?” he says, dropping the item in the palm of your hand. “it matches your eyes.”

you smile at him, finding his attention to detail incredibly endearing. you hold on to the rock, feeling its curves with your fingers until a cluster of chrysanthemums catches your attention and you have to free up your hands to pick one. you decide on a yellow one and present it to your boyfriend.

“here,” you say. “for you.”

“hey, aren’t i supposed to be the one giving you flowers?” taeyong asks but he takes it from you anyway.

“you’re supposed to give flowers to people you like,” you say. “and i like you.”

“you like me?” he asks, gasping softly. “how embarrassing.”

you go along with his joke. “don’t you like me too?”

he shakes his head and makes a face. “no way... i love you.”

you shove his shoulder. “so cheesy.”

he can’t argue with that so he just nods and chuckles as he tucks the chrysanthemum into his dark locks of hair. at seeing this, you raise the polaroid camera round your neck toward taeyong and he, already used to it, automatically poses for you. he puts his arms over his head, curving them into a kind of crooked heart. he gives an open mouthed smile only resuming to his normal position when he hears the click of the camera. you and him share a laugh once the polaroid picture develops completely.

“oh god, i look ridiculous,” he comments. “please get rid of that.”

you only give him a sarcastic, “yeah sure” and continue walking.

you two never got rid of pictures, no matter how ridiculous or unflattering they were. you agreed that every moment you shared counted and deserved to be remembered.

although, they never would be.

5:45 P.M.

you chew on the cap of your pen, massaging your aching hand. you had been writing for almost an hour and you had your cramping fingers to prove it. despite the discomfort, you aren’t one to break tradition. the ‘things i love about you’ list was an ongoing thing you and taeyong had been doing for... ever. they definitely came in handy if either if you wanted to read about what the other was like in past years.

“everything good over there?” taeyong asks, from the other side of the couch.

you shake your head. “this is too hard. i have no idea how i’ve kept this up for four years.”

he puts a hand over his heart. “wow, i’m that hard to love, huh?”

“you know that’s not what i meant,” you say, glaring. “i just have so much stuff to say about you, so much stuff i want future me to know.”

he nods, solemnly. “i get it. i don’t want to leave out a thing but it’s kinda hard to fit a year’s worth of feelings and emotions into a couple pages.”

your let your head fall onto the couch. “why do you have to be so lovable?”

taeyong points an accusing finger at you. “i could ask you the same thing! you’re the most wonderful human being on the planet, if i try to write everything i love about you my hand will fall off!”

you sit up to stare at him. he looks genuinely offended by your ‘wonderfulness’. you pick up your pen and paper.

adorably dramatic, you write.

he scoots closer to you, exclaiming, “hey, what did you just put!”

you hug your notepad tightly to your chest. “no peeking!”

7:12 P.M.

your boyfriend hands you his letter with hopeful eyes. unlike the lists that had been made hours earlier, these writings had been in the works for quite some time. there are letters you and taeyong had written for each other dated all the way from 2016. that was also the year the first polaroids you owned were from so you both assumed it was when you had begun dating. if you ever want to have a good cry, all you have to do is find those letters.

in them, there are heartfelt words for the other person’s eyes only describing how they felt around them, why they were so special, among other sentiments. most importantly, though, you always included why you would never forget the other person. of course, one could say how ironic this was considering that forgetting was what the reset was all about but nevertheless, it was reassuring to read. it made your love seem unbreakable; something so strong it defied the impossible.

you give taeyong your letter, feeling somewhat nervous. he doesn’t hesitate to open the envelope carefully. he slowly removes your letter from inside and you mirror his delicacy. the pair of you sit in absolute silence as you read the words off the pages.

my y/n,

what an amazing year it’s been with you. i know i say that in every letter i write but it’s really true. i never wrote things like this before you came along. only the basics—my name, who my parents were, my birthday, etc. you know, things like that. frankly, i had nothing else worth remembering. but now i do. you’re my whole world, the only thing i truly know and i am convinced i could not be any happier or luckier.

i don’t know what a life without you is like literally but i wouldn’t have it any other way. the situation the world faces with this whole reset mess isn’t ideal and i’ll oftentimes think of what a normal life would be like. even then, in this perfect universe, you’re still by my side.

i still wake up next to you.

i still spend every waking moment with you.

i still fall asleep with you in my arms.

you are still my everything. i am convinced you always will be.

many people avoid love or close relationships nowadays knowing that at the end of the year it’ll all be erased no matter what. how dumb is that? they don’t know what they’re missing out on. having a partner is nothing short of a blessing and you’ve taught me that by being with me every step of the way. sure, forgetting our past together doesn’t get any easier and neither does writing these letters but i’d write a million of them if that’s what it took to have you by my side.

i can only hope you’ll continue being there for me and give me something worth remembering in future years.

you are the light of my life and i can’t wait to fall in love with you again.

yours truly,

taeyong

the tears stroll down your cheeks and drip down on to the paper in your shaky hands. you use your sleeve to try and wipe them away to the best of your ability without smudging the ink. taeyong finishes reading your letter moments later, placing on the coffee table and only staring at you with a distant look in his eyes.

your voice comes out in a whisper. “are you okay?”

he nods, sniffling but his shiny eyes say otherwise. “can you maybe just... hold me?” his voice cracks along with your heart.

he ends up with his head in your lap, your fingers pulling and tugging at his soft hair. you have a couple hours left but you wouldn’t be opposed to leaving the year in this exact position.

11:59 P.M.

taeyong has made it clear he wants you to be the first thing he sees when you enter the new year. so, you spend your last minute getting into a position that will allow that.

you end up sitting sit cross-legged across from him. he’s in the same position and in the small distance between you, your fingers meet. the hold he has on your hands is so tight his knuckles have turned white. his eyes bore into yours and although he doesn’t say a word, his hazel orbs let you know it’s all going to be okay. you repeat those words to yourself.

it’s going to be okay.

“i love you,” you blurt.

he only has a couple seconds to respond.

“i love you, too. if you’re going to remember one thing, let it be that.”

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