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icewindandboringhorror · 3 years

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Okay, here’s a final answer, just for clarification -

Firstly, please understand that I’m not angry, and I’m not upset. I just tend to speak very matter of factly, I guess? If I seem cold or something when typing this response, it's not a personal attack towards you or some display of aggression, that's just how I word things sometimes, I don't mean for them to be misinterpreted or want you to think I’m like getting mad with you or etc. Me disagreeing does not inherently equal me being mad about something, it merely means that I disagree, which is an emotion neutral action. If someone said 2+2 = 6, I would disagree, and openly so, but that doesn’t mean I’d also be like, crying about it or upset with them or something lol.

I actually even stated so at the end of my tags last time -

So, I apologize if you interpreted my tone as being mean, but I was simply trying to be firm and direct in how I said things so you understand that it's a very serious matter, and I didn't want to be light about it.

There was a bit of jokiness/sarcasm/exaggeration as well I suppose, but again, that’s not an inherent indicator of upset, just the way I speak - especially when your question can be seen as rude to begin with (which usually leads people to care less about faking positive emotions or seeming polite to others. If a person is not polite to you, you’re not likely to watch how you communicate as much or attempt to display high politeness back). My default state is a neutral flatness as I have a very shallow emotional range (shout out to schizophrenia spectrum negative symptoms and other various issues lol), any excessive positivity or “perkiness” or something that I display is just an attempt to be polite and communicate with others in a simple and kindly manner (in real life I’m often seen as too stoic, blunt, detached, cold, etc. lmao, so in general communication with strangers I tend to overcompensate to being excessively polite instead) - but that also means I can accidentally drop that sometimes if I’m being “real” or whatever.

Anyway, now that concerns over my tone have hopefully been explained, I’ll address this issue about your previous ask in a numbered list. Please read ALL of this, if you are actually taking this seriously. If you don’t actually read, in detail (no skimming), this entire response, then this is not even a discussion since you’re not willing to genuinely engage in the first place. -

Firstly, here is the original ask, for reference ----

As for how your question can be rude:

(1.) In my initial response (in the tags of your answer), I asserted various things, mostly that the question was rude, and that it’s not appropriate to ask people, for a variety of reasons. I’ll explain those in more length here.

My main point is that even asking the question in the first place is rude. It doesn’t matter how specifically you word it, it’s not appropriate. Just like any personal issue. At least in my culture, it’s typically thought of as inconsiderate and inappropriate to ask random strangers personal questions. for example, it would be rude to approach a random stranger on the bus that you’ve never even seen before and ask them why the have the haircut they do, who their sexual partners are, if they’ve just had a death in the family, how well their marriage is going, what their gender is, etc. etc.

(2.) On top of this personal boundary issue, another concern would be that the nature of the question itself is baseless --

Would you ask a cis woman why they're a woman? Or a cis man why he chose to be a man? Would you ask a straight person why they chose to be straight?

Would you find it acceptable and polite if a random stranger approached you on the street and asked you for an explanation as to why you're the gender you are? Imagine that exact scenario happening to you, and if you would find it odd or overstepping boundaries at all.

I doubt you ask this same gender identity question to everyone in your life, to your parents, friends, the cashier at your grocery store. Why is it only certain groups that need to explain or justify their identities to you? Only certain groups that you feel the inherent need to question? It's a double standard which further serves to prove the question itself is unnecessary.

(3.) Additionally, in case you're genuinely unsure of tone (maybe you have difficulty reading social cues or something, that’s understandable) I will explain - the way in which the question was asked has certain implications.

The statement “Why are you nonbinary? You seem like a pretty girl to me”, implies that - due to your beliefs about me/how you see me, you find it confusing that I could have a certain identity that you see as not matching your perception of me, or that you see as an invalid label, and are asking for me to justify or explain myself/my identity to you because of that.

Even if this implied meaning was not intentional, it is what most people will interpret upon reading the question, and would be a commonly held understanding. There are other ways you could have asked the question which would be less condescending, yes, but again, the other points still stand (like that the question in itself is impolite to ask to strangers, etc.)

Again, revisit the imaginary scenario of a stranger approaching you on the street and asking you why you’re the gender you are - would there not be some of this implication present? For example, say you’re a man - would it not feel as if someone were questioning your manhood, or implying you weren’t truly a man, or must not be a man ‘correctly’, or that ‘man’ is not a valid label for how they see you? Why else would they approach you and ask you in confusion for you to justify your identity to them? The implication is that they don’t see you as a valid man, or at least not how they see a man, and thus are having a hard time accepting that someone like YOU could ever be a real man - that it’s hard for them to believe you are what you say you are, because they see you differently.

(3.a) As an additional sidenote (one which I addressed in the tags replying to you initially), your ask (as well as this more recent one) also made certain assumptions. There are plenty of people who ''look like girls'' or 'look like boys' but aren't as they “seem”, even if you're someone who only believes in a “binary biological sex model” (I’ll include some links at the end about this). It's strange to assume someone's body parts or identity just based off of pictures you see on the internet (which often have specific lighting, angles, or in the case of many people are even edited and etc. I don't do this but it's really common nowadays with phone editing apps and stuff). Just because I appear a certain way to you, in no way implies that I have the physical form and traits you assume I have Consider how you may feel invalidated or uncomfortable if people sent you messages assuming personal things about you that are incorrect or that they have no way to possibly know.

Your standards and perception are also not universal, various cultures and groups have different ideas about what outward traits would make someone considered a “man” or a “woman”, so making your judgement of someone else’s identity based only on your own (extremely shallow, since it’s only from online pictures) perception of them, is also inherently a bit flawed.

(3.b-ish side tangent) In extension to this, your ideas and how you view me are likely incorrect. Just as it is similarly true that, from afar, any assumptions I make about you would likely be inaccurate as well. We are strangers.

For example, if you really knew me, you would know that I don’t pride myself in costumes and makeup - It’s a fun creative activity for me definitely, but I feel no pride over it, I don’t do it to look good or seem a certain way, and actually I resent it in a way, because often it feels like people mostly only pay attention to blurry pictures of me looking silly in cheap wigs, but don’t give that same level of engagement to the other more important things I do that I personally care about 100x more, like my worldbuilding and other projects lol. Absolutely nothing against the people who like my costumes, I appreciate them of course!!, and I still love doing costumes - BUT, to imply that it’s a primary source of pride in my life or a characteristic that defines me over other things, would be a mischaracterization.

Anyone who knows me in real life would certainly list a million other stand-out traits to define me, rather than ‘pretty make up woman’ (most people I know in real life would also not describe me as ‘pretty’ or as a ‘woman’, just for reference lol).

Your one sided perception of me (which I’ll address in the next section) may allow you to have a shallow idea of me as some sweet pretty costume girl or something, but just know that the reality is more like: I haven’t had much time lately to do costumes because I’m working on a game and other art which I see as much more important, I haven’t bathed or brushed my hair in weeks because of mental illness/functioning issues, 99% of the time I’m not ‘’dressed up’’ - I wear the same pajamas and cardigan that I’ve worn for the past 3 years and barely wash to the point that it’s disintegrating and leaves fabric scraps around the house lol, I have a little moustache right now and a unibrow and other “””non-womanly”””” traits (at least by common media western standards, which is what I assume you go by), I’m excessively analytical, detached, and in real life you would probably see me as blunt and cold and cynical (also commonly missing social cues) - as well as being hugely asocial/ a hermit and mostly lacking the ability to form attachments to others (So definitely not ~pretty and cute and approachable~ ghgg), I have obsessive compulsive disorder and am regularly so anxious that I’m throwing up and have various other issues - I’m also not Fun or Cool or Spontaneous because I’m too busy being rigid and high strung lol (even before the pandemic, I don’t like to leave the house or interact much at all with others, I’d rather be in my little controlled environment where I don’t have overwhelming sensory information and distractions raising my anxiety constantly),, and my favorite activities are literally all just stuff like pacing around my home alone talking to myself in different voices creating gods and fake religions for my fantasy worldbuilding while I eat boiled cabbage and light little pieces of paper on fire over a candle to help me think - not doing makeup and other Pretty Woman Things.

Which I don’t want to be too harsh or focus on this tangent too much, since obviously as you don’t know me in real life, these are all things you couldn’t possibly be aware of, and it simply comes with the territory of posting publicly online - so I absolutely don’t blame you for perceiving me incorrectly. If “pretty” pictures are all you see, then that may very well be the only impression that you have. I just personally dislike this certain interpretation some people have seemed to have of me (you’re not the first person to think of me as a Pretty Makeup Girl or whatever lol), since it’s so completely opposite from the truth of who I am, I feel the need to explain it like this sometimes. Just accepting the false perception some people have of me without any argument feels disingenuous and like supporting a version of myself that doesn’t exist.

So anyway, no issue with you personally, but just trying to set the perception of me straight a little more accurately lol.. now, back on topic --

(4.) Lastly, and here’s the main thing I’d like to stress, there's the issue of personal boundaries. Again, you're a complete stranger to me, I don't know who you are, and you have no idea who I am. Even if you've followed me online for years and read every post I've ever made, you still have no idea who I truly deeply am, only a vague scattering of snapshots over time.

Here are some definitions for Parasocial Relationships:

“Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other's existence. Parasocial relationships are most common with celebrities, organizations (such as sports teams) or television stars.”

“Parasocial interaction (PSI) refers to a kind of psychological relationship experienced by an audience in their mediated encounters with performers in the mass media, particularly on television.[1] PSI is described as an illusionary experience, such that media audiences interact with personas (e.g., talk show host, celebrities, fictional characters, social media influencers) as if they are engaged in a reciprocal relationship with them. The term was coined by Donald Horton and Richard Wohl in 1956. “

This is all anyone can ever have with people they follow online. You can perceive them, but you cannot know them or truly understand them. I think this is very important to remain cognizant of in such a massive social media age, as often times people are fostering one sided concepts that are inaccurate or unhealthy (no so much with just you sending me a simple ask, but in a broader sense, how people act towards celebrities, other bloggers, etc. etc. seems to have little boundaries, and often results in a similar manner with people forgetting to maintain acceptable boundaries with those they follow or know about from afar).

-- This next part is very important, I think it’s a super valuable way of thinking about this sort of stuff, so if you take away nothing else from this, at least remember this next portion --

A very good way to think about online boundaries that I heard someone mention in a post once (though I can no longer find the post), is to take whatever you're going to say to someone online, and imagine saying it in person, in real life, to a barista. Before you send an ask or make a comment, think about if it’s something you would really genuinely say face to face to a stranger.

Would you walk into a random Starbucks and ask the dude at the counter a bunch questions about their gender identity? Or about his personal life in general? You probably recognize that that would be strange and socially inappropriate. It's similarly inappropriate in a case like this.

Even though you may feel a sense of familiarity with someone online from reading their social media posts, or even speaking to them once or twice through asks and etc. etc., at the end of the day you don’t really know each other much more than you’d know a random stranger.

Unless someone is inviting personal questions (like by reblogging those ‘ask me anything’ posts or etc.), or has the sort of blog where they are commonly asking people about/discussing their own intimate personal experiences or etc. (mine is not this way), then questions like this are very out of the blue and similar to asking a random person working at a store things like that. It can be seen as rude and inappropriate in general to give those sorts of questions to people who are complete strangers, and typically comes off as crossing personal boundaries. Again, think about a random stranger asking you these questions, and how you may perceive it.

In summary:

1. The question itself is borne from an double standard and isn't very good to ask in the first place. 2. The way you asked the question was worded with certain implications. 3. Your ask is also assuming certain things that you don't know are true, which can be uncomfortable for some people. 4. Even were it not for the three other things, it's commonly considered rude in many cultures to ask serious questions about the personal details of complete strangers, even if it's online. It could prove useful to utilize the ‘barista test’ to better determine this in the future.

Final Thoughts:

Anyway, I wasn't mad and I have no beef with you or whatever lol. Hopefully you can understand what I mean. I've also explained myself as well as I think I can though, so I don't feel like discussing it any more and won't respond to further asks about this. I have a lot of things going on in my life right now (as I'm sure everyone does given the pandemic and everything, you probably do too, so hopefully you can empathize with that), so I’d like to limit my time spent online, especially discussing topics I already don’t like to discuss or am not open to accepting questions about (I just want to talk about cats and elves and stuff lol).

If you still can't at least kind of get where I'm coming from then it's perfectly fine to just agree to disagree. If aspects of myself upset you or cause you discomfort, then there's no harm in just unfollowing me or something! Or if you don't even follow me, I would encourage you to block me so my posts no longer come across your dash (or block/unfollow me on whatever other social media you may be seeing my posts on ,etc)., etc. That way you don't have to see content or hear from someone who makes you uncomfortable that way, and there also won't be any need for this to come up in the future. Part of using the internet in a healthy and productive manner is to know when to disengage with certain content and just cut it off/unfollow/block people/etc. if it’s causing you unnecessary conflict or distress, or makes you uncomfortable or etc. to look at. Thank you for the question! Hopefully this response explained things a little better.

Links and Further Info:

On the off chance that you were genuinely curious, here are some resources where you can learn more about people of different gender identities and also hear them explain their experiences, etc. Since these people are actually openly discussing their experiences/making educational content and are obviously actually open to talking about it, that would be a better place to field any further questions or learn about things. :3

Here’s some reading -

Understanding Nonbinary People (link)

Gender Variance Around the World (link)

12 Questions About Nonbinary Gender Answered (link)

About the Sex Binary (link)

Ask LGBT subreddit (link)

one ‘ask a nonbinary person’ blog i found (I don’t know if they’re still active, it’s one of the first ones that came up for me lol, but I guess could be helpful) (link)

And here’s some videos with people talking about their experience, or being educational -

(NOTE: I just did a quick google search and did not deeply research these people and their entire histories and etc., so I can’t say I stand by literally everything they say or know what type of people they are, but it’s just a general place to start~!)

A video examining the idea of gender in general and how it even exists and nonbinary people (definitely interesting to watch) (link)

video about nonbinary gender/explanations (probably at least watch this one too) (link)

What is a nonbinary gender? (shorter general info) (link)

answering all your nonbinary questions q&a (link)

Video about binary sex/gender/etc. (link)

5 nonbinary people explain what nonbinary means to them (link)

another video about similar stuff (link)

#Please stop sending me asks about this now. I just want to talk about elves and cats and fantasy writing and stuff #No personal questions unless I specifically comment on something/initiate the discussion or they're about my art or something else I'm doing #lol... especially with everything going on this year #just a big Let Me Relax I Will Deal With Anything Even Remotely Stressful Later mood #ANd anon if you're still here - go listen to 'And the beat goes on' by The Whispers #no real reason gjhgjhg it's just a good song and I had it playing while I was proofreading #(also for context - it hasn't just been two asks - I'm pretty sure this person sent me others. If that's not true then I apologize anon -#but I definitely got multiple asks that were mentioning similar things/of a similar tone (intentionally referring to me as a 'girl' 'woman'#consistently and in a kind of agressive way or etc. (which you can block asks even if they're on anon (i think it's just an IP block) so if #it was indeed this anon sending them then they may be blocked from sending any more asks already because I blocked all those weird ones #I got lol. if it wasn't them then they should still be fine though- but anyway. there were other messages being sent #etc. consistently - which only happened after the first initial ask and would happen regualrly so. etc. etc. Just wanted to mention it since #the 'stop sending me asks about this now' comment doesn't make much sense if you think there was only two asks lol. I'm preetty sure #there were more - though of course they're all anon so I can't confirm. ANYWAY - again.. i have no beef with you but if we don't agree then #please just disengage and stop following my content/sending me asks - and maybe watch some of the videos and stuff or go to #other reasources if you really want to know about this stuff because I'm just not the right person/in the correct mindset to explain it to #you. I can barely do basic daily functions like making sure I eat 3 times a day lol.. I don't have the mental energy to write educational #essays and etc. but SOME people do - which is why pursuing other resources is important. ALSO - listen to The Whispers. that is my #final advice.. put on some good music and just dance and eat some cheddar cheese or something. this will soothe every issue )

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yeahimaloser · 3 years

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Hi lovely! I adore your writing style and noticed you were taking requests. This is my first request ever so if it comes off a little awkward please forgive me! 👉👈

I was hoping for a scenario where Hawks has been wondering why y/n has been skipping out on get-togethers with him for the past week or two. He gets curious enough one day that he just-so-happens to patrol the area where you run off to after you reject another date with him.

He finds out that you have been going to an outdoor avian clinic and taking classes on how to pamper/massage or preen bird wings in order to surprise Hawks for your anniversary coming up.

But not like totally before Hawks confronts you and blurting out “Have you been cheating on me with a parrot?” 😂

Thank you! I hope this all makes sense. Hugs and kisses!

Hello there!! You are so sweet! and you didn’t come off awkward at all! <3

I am so sorry I didn’t actually mean for this to become an angst fic in the beginning ;-;

but it is fluffy don’t worry!

warnings: avian Keigo (Keigo having bird like tendencies)

Also I schedule this to be a bit later than I normally post, I’ll most likely be asleep when this goes up so I just wanted to say to everyone thank you for reading!!

word count: 3.3k

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He tapped his foot against the floor of the restaurant, his patience deteriorating every second as he stared at the door.

As the fastest hero, Keigo never really had any patients for just about anything. One thing he hated more than anything was people being late, he moved fast, he wanted people to move fast with him.

All he wanted to do was go on a nice date night, have some dinner, and go home and watch a movie or something. He just wanted to spend time with you.

You normally never skipped out on dates, so why now?

He had noticed your absence in the last few weeks, more and more you would skip out on him.

The anxiety bubbling in his heart was starting to spill over, seeping into his attitude in daily life. In his head, he wondered if maybe you were trying to signal to him that you weren’t interested in dating anymore, that maybe you were just silently drifting from him. But he loved the 11 months he got to spend with you, he’d never experienced anything like it. It was fresh, new, loving, he didn’t want it to end. Those thoughts had made him feel miserable for the last week or so, but he was still confused by you. Although you skipped out on dates and such, you still acted so lovingly towards him. You would still come home and snuggle up to him, you would still run your fingers through his hair at night, you would still talk mindlessly about your day, as though nothing was remotely bothering you.

So, maybe you really were busy, perhaps he was just looking too much into the issue.

But still, getting stood up for the 4th time in a row would make anyone a bit upset.

He left the restaurant, paying for the drink he had ordered, and went on his way home.

Maybe it was a side effect of his quirk, but when he had these sorts of thoughts his wings would get all twitchy. He had done the research and found that when birds were in a high-stress situation they plucked at their feathers. The article also said that when a person that said a bird was attached to someone that abandons them, they get even more stressed and irritated. Which he supposed made sense. He would never admit it to very many people, (and if the press got a hold of it he would honestly shoot himself) but he had some bird tendencies.

Not big ones, just small ones.

He would bob his head in time with music sometimes, his pupils would dilate and contract when he was concentrating on something, he would mindlessly coo and cluck randomly as well.

Luckily, the commission taught him to control his bird-like tendencies, they told him that some of his bird traits were “off-putting”. But he really wasn’t sure what they were talking about, animal quirks weren’t uncommon, but he didn’t complain, he didn’t mind the help.

But since he’s been dating you, he found himself getting more and more of these tendencies.

A few times, he would find random shiny objects and give them to you, he acted all excited about it too, saying, “I saw it and thought that you could keep it! It’s super pretty so, I don’t know, I thought you’d think it was cool.” After he said that, you just took the objects and told him he was so adorable.

Another time, when you two were just out and about, he had seen you talk to someone with a similar bird quirk to his. He didn’t even know what came over him, but he squawked at the man, effectively freaking him and you out.

He apologized profusely after that.

There was one bird-like quality he didn’t mind all that much, and that was the preening of his feathers. It was honestly so relaxing, the dirt and dust from flying seeped into his feathers, so he always found himself soaking his wings in water and then rubbing them with a special kind of oil.

There were some days, however, were all he could do (or all he had time to do) was take a warm towel and gently rub off his feathers.

And lately, he had found himself going overboard with his preening, pulling more aggressively at his feathers, sometimes even hurting himself. He suspected that it was due to the stress of worrying about what was wrong with you (or him).

He hated all of it, loathed it even. Worse was how hard it was for him to broach the subject with you, whenever he got close he always wussed out. In his mind, even though it bothered him, he didn’t want to lose you. He was so scared that if he brought it up he would hear something he dreaded, and you two would fall apart.

He loved you so much, he wanted you to stay with him. Another bird trait he learned, some birds mated for life, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel that way about you. He just...he didn’t want to lose you.

There was one possibility that was the worst, and yet the most likely. You had been cheating on him.

He really didn’t want to admit it, but it all sort of added up.

You skipped out on dates so you could go out with this other person. When you would become affectionate with him could be a sign of guilt, he read about that online. And the way you wouldn’t see his texts or missed calls when he knew you were on a lunch break, maybe you were seeing someone else.

Was he a bad boyfriend? He thought that he had become better at this whole relationship stuff, maybe not perfect, but he was getting there. He knew he was hard to deal with, he wished he could be better for you, he really did. He knew he was busy a lot, tired from work, he knew he wasn't the most affectionate guy, but he wanted you, he wanted you so much it hurt. Keigo thought that you loved him because he really loved you.

The thought of having to let you go crushed his heart crushed his spirit too. He really did care for you, he knew that you were the one for him, so the thought of you not returning that feeling hurt him.

He flew through the night sky, looking down at the lights of the city. Normally, a sight like this would have made him smile, made him feel like he was on top of the world.

But his wings just felt uncomfortable, the wind blowing through them just increased the feeling.

He just felt… done. Like the whole world felt heavy to him. Maybe he really was overthinking everything, but he couldn’t help it, he was made to be observant.

He knew he had a strange habit of over-complicating things, but it was just his nature he supposed. A trained government agent always has to look into the fine details, at least, that's what he was taught. So, with your absence, he found himself becoming more and more paranoid.

He brought it up to his side-kicks and hero friends, and they all said the same thing; he was just being paranoid. They told him that, “sometimes in relationships, things get a little rough, it happens.” But Keigo couldn’t help but hate the whole ordeal.

He sighed, flying faster to his home.

One time, he had tried to follow you on your lunch break. He supposed it was pretty stalkerish, but he was getting desperate. All he needed was reassurance, just to know if you were actually busy or if that had been a bullshit excuse. He told himself it wasn’t a huge deal, he was just making sure you were doing ok.

...ok maybe it was a bit of a breach of privacy.

He had perched himself on top of a building near your workplace. Keigo had made sure that you wouldn’t be able to see him as he followed you, keeping out of sight as best he could.

His initial thought was you would go to a coffee shop, maybe some sort of expensive restaurant if you were meeting someone.

Yet, to his surprise, he saw you scarf down a sandwich as you entered an animal clinch.

Were you cheating on him with an animal clinch employee?

He wanted to confront you then and there, but from where he was, he didn’t have any reason to.

It looked innocent enough, you were just going to an animal clinch.

He immediately felt guilty. There was no reason for him not to trust you, you had done nothing wrong in this situation. Maybe you really were working overtime and he was just overthinking everything.

He shook his head, sighing, he unfolded his wings and flew off the building he was perched on.

That was a week ago, it was after the third time you stood him up. And now, although he didn’t have any proof of you cheating, he still felt like he had a reason to confront you. He just felt sick of worrying and overthinking everything, and in all honesty, you weren’t helping the situation. Every time he asked you about it, you always came up with some sort of excuse.

He landed on his balcony with a loud thump, not caring all that much about the noise.

As he entered his home, he lifted the hem of his shirt off his head, throwing it on the floor unceremoniously. Walking over to the bathroom, he filled a special bowl full of water and made his way back over to the bed.

It was probably a bad idea to preen himself when he was so aggravated like this, but he wanted to do it, his wings felt so uncomfortable.

His right-wing raised a bit as he sat down, pulling the feathered stump closer to him.

But before he could even graze the feathers with a damp cloth he had, he heard the front door open and close.

Before he had even realized it, he was already zooming down the staircase of his luscious penthouse, knowing full well you were already inside of his home.

“Hi honey,” you slipped your shoes off, not looking at him yet. “How was your day- Oh,” he crossed his arms over his chest, he was sure his expression was one of utmost anger.

“Where were you,” his tone was irritated, his wings twitched behind him.

“I was working. Baby what's wrong,” he nearly rolled his eyes at your concerned tone.

“Don’t baby me, you stood me up,” he huffed, “again.”

He didn’t miss the sorry expression that flashed on your face, “Kei, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve just been so busy lately. I know I haven’t been fair to you, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow! Look I’ll even make dinner for you, ok? Really, Kei, I’m ”

“Y/N,” here it came, “if your gonna break up with me, just do it already

Well, that certainly shocked you (and him if he was being honest). Your whole expression fell into one of confusion, your eyes looked up at him with genuine hurt.

“What? Keigo what are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, why would I want to break up with you?”

“I don’t know Y/N?! Why have you been avoiding me for so long!?”

You sighed, “Is that what this is all about? Well,” you pulled out some sort of form, reaching it out to him, “here, I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary, but I don’t want you to think that I’m doing something dishonest.”

He snatched the piece of paper out of your hand, maybe a bit too harshly. He looked at it and was immediately confused.

It was information on a class about… how to preen birds?

He gave you a confused look, to which you gave him a light smile, “I see how frustrating it is for you to preen them, so I wanted to help out. I saw that I could learn how and thought it would be a cute thing for us to do together.”

He stood in shock for a few moments, letting the guilt wash over him.

“I-I’m so sorry.”

You chuckled a bit, “Don’t be, it was wrong of me to leave you high and dry on dates, I just had to work overtime in order to get these classes in.”

Now, he felt twice as guilty.

This whole time he had thought you were drifting away from him, and worse, he thought you were cheating on him. He felt sick. His friends were right, he really was overthinking the whole situation. And worst of all, you were working overtime to do something so nice for him, and here he was, yelling at you.

“I-I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jesus,” he shook his head, “I’m an idiot. You were off doing something so thoughtful for me, and I was being a prick, yelling at you. I’m sorry honey. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”

But you just chuckled, “Keigo, really, it’s ok. I should have at least done something to convince you, or rescheduled our dates. It’s ok honey, don’t feel bad.”

You moved in to give him a hug, which just happened to be the moment you realized his shirt was missing.

“Uh,” he saw your body straighten up, and your face makes a flustered expression, “why is your shirt…”

“Oh, well,” he scratched his feathers nervously, “it’s kinda funny, I was just about to preen my wings. So I have to take off my shirt in order to get the water to the back. Kind of a weird coincidence, huh.”

“Well,” you looked at him, eyes softening, “can I help?”

Keigo was sure his heart had frozen, after a moment or two, he answered, “S-sure.”

-----

You pulled a stool for him to sit on as you sat down on the bed.

Keigo wasn’t sure why, but he felt so anxious. To tell the truth, he never really had someone preen his wings before. He would always do it himself, it was an annoying effort sometimes, but the commission was very big on him looking good for the public eye.

His wings weren’t super sensitive, but the light touches of your fingers running through them felt like pure heaven to him. The sensation was like having someone giving a message, but… different. It felt nicer, more loving, more slow and nice.

The whole sensation made him shutter.

“Is this ok,” he didn’t miss the anxiety in your tone.

“Yeah,” he said, breathlessly. “Perfect, keep...keep doing that babe.”

The little pulls of his feathers relaxed him more and more, making him seep into the back of the stool he was sitting on.

When you had started to add water to the mix, he didn’t notice his cooing.

“Kei?”

“Hmm,” his mind was so far gone in the relaxation of your hands that he barely registered your voice.

“Are you cooing,” you had to suppress your smirk as his body went rigid, as well as his wings.

“I,” his face was almost as deep red as his wings, “s-sorry.”

You giggled, “Don’t apologize,” you pressed softly into the apex of some of his feathers, “if it feels good, it’s fine if you coo. I won't judge you.”

Softly, he let out a few coos, but he didn’t want to freak you out.

But soon, he realized he couldn’t keep them in, you were just doing so well.

You moved softly to grab his feather oil, “Uh, so how does this even work? Do I take a few drops and run them through each individual feather or something?”

You’ve seen him preen his wings before, but until recently you had just started to pay attention to how he exactly did them. You had noticed that the oil he used on his feathers gave a shine to the red plumage, but you had noticed he was a bit cautious with the serum.

“O-oh,” you didn’t miss the light stutter and the soft up-take of his voice, “Um, if you want you can just put a few drops in your hand and rake them through. You don’t have to do each one if you don’t want to.”

You thought for a moment, “Alright, I think I’ll just do each feather. I wanna get this right after all.”

And, honest to god, Keigo gulped.

You’ve never seen him this relaxed and yet so tense, you would have thought he was drugged. You would be lying if you didn’t enjoy it though, the way Keigo melted into you, it was weirdly adorable.

“Yeah,” he let out, “yeah ok.”

After that, it was like Keigo could barely talk.

For a moment, you considered something. When you and Keigo had started to date, you had noticed how he was a bit touch-starved. He craved affection, whether he was aware of this or not, you weren’t sure.

But it made sense, his childhood past, and plus, this was his first real relationship. You wondered if Keigo had ever been shown so decent, honest love before.

Perhaps his bird instincts also played a part in how affectionate he could be. You read once, that when male birds became attached to their mates they tended to get affectionate as well as loving. Plus, some birds preened their mates as a show of love, you wondered if what Keigo was doing was just his way of showing how happy he was with you preening him.

After you were done, Keigo’s head was light and tired. The whole experience for him felt magical, he wasn’t sure why though. He preened himself a bunch of times, why was this the first time he felt this way?

But Keigo’s head couldn’t really process the question at the moment.

“You wanna go to sleep,” you asked, bringing your hands lightly over his shoulders, kissing his forehead.

He let out a small, “Mhm,” as he stood up. You had to help him to his bed because of how wobbly he was.

After you carefully helped him into bed, you turned to go to the bathroom to wash your hands, but Keigo dragged you down.

“No,” he whined softly as you tried to get out of his grip, “cuddles.”

(You couldn’t lie, this had to be the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen him do)

He nuzzled into you, his body flushed against yours.

That’s when you heard it, the little chips. You didn’t say anything, scared that if you did he would stop. You played with his hair as he chirped into your neck, his wings shivered a bit.

You decided to ask him, “Hey, Kei.”

He hummed lightly.

“I’ve never seen you like this, does it have something to do with your bird instincts?”

Keigo thought for a moment, “Maybe,” his voice was light you noticed, “it could be. Kinda just something I experience because that’s what birds do with their...mates.”

You chuckled, running your hands through his wings again, “Maybe it’s because you're also, like, really touch starved.”

“Oh yeah, maybe. I mean,” he looked at you, like a lovesick puppy, “you are my first time in a real relationship.”

You laughed lightly, going back to lightly stroking his hair and feathers.

“Hey Y/N,” Keigo’s voice was tired, and yet, it was soft.

“Yeah honey,” you asked in an equally gooey voice.

He nuzzled in closer to you, giving you a soft, yet deep kiss, “I love you.”

#bnha hawks #hawks x reader #mha keigo takami #hawks x y/n #keigo takami #mha keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha fanfiction #keigo x reader #hawks imagine #hawks headcanons #hawks reader insert #keigo x y/n

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spookysmujer · 3 years

Text

All the Stars, O. Diaz

Summary: After having a stressful week dealing with the Santos, you try to make Oscar feel relaxed enough to get him to open up.

word count: 1.3K

warnings: cute s h e t, fluff, vulnerability

a/n: Hello babes, I am putting in some weRk over these next few days! Also who has been super excited after hearing it’s official: ON MY BLOCK SEASON 4 IS HAPPENING. Our papichulo returns! Don’t worry, angst coming up next, some smut and the whole spiel, hehe. As always please: follow the blog, heart/comment/reblog my work and turn on notifications for when I post new content!

requested by @justatiredfool

(gif belongs to unknown 🥺)

You were told you were silly to move in with Oscar during senior year of high school. That you had to be knocked up. Even though your parents gave you the OK, they always made it their mission to remind you that there are more important things in life than having a boyfriend. But no one understood just how deeply you connected with him. And to those who claimed it wouldn’t last, here you are 5 years later.

And with living at the Santo trap house came with its occasional inconveniences. Such as Oscar having the stress of ‘work’ follow him home all the time. And mostly, there was no problem in solving them. He did his best to separate business and pleasure. But there were days where he couldn’t and it would take a toll on your relationship. Days like today, so you want to help him relax and relinquish any stress.

When he gets home, he stops in the kitchen to press a kiss to the top of your head. He goes to the bedroom and strips down to his white tank and basketball shorts. You take the liberty to get him a beer, he thanks you with a touch when you hand it to him, “Long day?”

He hums in response as you run your hand over his head, he loves the feeling of you touching him. Touch for him is his love language rather than speaking. Which no doubt was hard for you in the beginning considering that for you, you were heavy in verbal communication. You need lots of reassurance and it was a big adjustment to learn that he likes to reassure you in a different way.

After mindlessly thinking, you reach over and take the remote to turn off the tv. He scrunches his eyebrows together and looks at you, “Com’n, let’s go.”

“Go where? I just got home, com’n.” You gather your purse and go stand by the doorway, looking back at Oscar who is still laying back on the bed. He looks at you, trying to tell you I ain’t going nowhere with his eyes. But your eyes tend to be more deadly than his. He groans before getting up and grabbing his wallet, “You don’t need it, let’s go tortuga.”

He pinches your behind as he approaches you, you squeal a little as you get away. Though he didn’t want to, Oscar knows there are days where you don’t see him much except for when he climbs into bed next to you. So instead of complaining, he just follows in pursuit.

You snatch the keys from his hand and jump into the driver’s seat. He won’t admit it but he loves to see you drive his car, it wasn’t always that way but to see you leant back, wind in your hair and head bopping to music, it’s a sight for sore eyes. Oscar keeps quiet as co-pilot and lets you take him to wherever you have planned.

Oscar doesn’t think anything when you pull up at a taco truck, you tell him to wait in the car that you phone ordered food for the two of you. When you get back to the car, he half expects for the two of you to eat in the car. However, you place the bag of food in the back seat and take off again. You drive for a bit more, taking a turn pass the sign that says “Hollywood Sign Ahead”. Most tourists have a designated area to part and hike near it. You know a way to drive up to it. Call it your rebel memory of high school. “Where are you taking me, hm?”

You look over at Oscar and smile, continuing the drive in silence. Oscar quirks his eyebrows when pulled up near a cliffside. He looks to you then tries to look over the ledge, “Com’n.” And when you walk over to his side to pull him closer to the edge, he feels a certain weight leave his shoulders. The sight is literally breathtaking. Los Angeles in a whole view makes everything that has been happening seem so miniscule. He lefts out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“That’s why I brought you here. That release of breath you just let out that you have been holding in for God knows how long. Up here it’s different from the beach, down there you can release it but still gotta be cautious. Here, there is literally no one to see you be… you.” He keeps looking at the bustling city below. A small smile forms on his lips before looking at you. His hand cups your cheek, thumb gently gliding across the warm skin. You melt into his touch and smile.

So you both get comfy of the hood of his car and get to grubbing on the tacos. It’s nothing but silence as you eat first. You want Oscar to feel comfortable in this safe space. You have learned that the best way some people release all the pent up frustration is in silence while in the presence of others. It seemed out to you when you learnt this but sometimes it’s just another's presence that can be a tremendous help.

He finishes first and you offer your other taco, he denies it and chugs the rest of his drink. “Cuchillos put me second in command. Lots of new territories to cover. More business to handle and it’s been a fucking rough trip so far. Turning against long time allies. Taking fathers from little ones. I knew what I was getting when taking on the job but…” He shrugs, clearing his throat.

You watch him closely and quietly sighed. Not pushing him to talk more, you wait it out patiently. “I just need to know you can stick it out with me during times like this.” He says and you stop chewing your food, taken back a bit.

Oscar finally looks at you and you swallow. You set your food down to slide off the hood to stand in front of him. He watches as you step between his legs, he looks at your lips as you rest your hand on his thighs. “Remember when we had that pregnancy scare half way into senior year? Or when Cesar ran off from us at the fair? We didn’t know what to expect to have next then, just like you don’t know right now. But we always did something that no matter the outcome we knew we’d be okay, we always stuck together and did our best. I am here. I am not going anywhere, I won’t run when the going gets rough. When every single day life tries to throw us a curveball, I’m gonna be right next to you. I promise you that.”

Those special moments in life that automatically engrain themselves into your brain, the times where it becomes such a significant moment that you can later anchor yourself to. And right now is one of those moments. Oscar knew from the get go that you would remain a faithful companion in his life the moment you took a leap and moved in with him. Unknown where the future could lead the two of you. Here you are in the moment that you never saw coming all those years ago.

“Thank you.” He grabs your hand and presses a kiss on the back of it. You blush as he pulls your arm around him to get a hug. Oscar inhales your scent which has always consisted of vanilla and brown sugar. The feeling of your embrace keeps him at bay with the uncontrolled thoughts. The two of you share a few kisses, “Despite all this shit, it’s not a bad thought you know.” He tells you and you look at him quizzically.

He chuckles, “A baby, you pregnant. Doesn’t sound bad at all.”

The warmth in your cheeks makes you look away shyly. But the condensation that spread across the windows later showed no signs of shyness.

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @princesstiffxoxo @firebenderwolf @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @roury66 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3 @starrynite7114 @spookysbabymama @aneitii @b3mybunnybaby @angelxfics @kkim120 @ladylj @vayagrxce @irenne-stans @boujee-bitches @blessedboo @lidumiw @morenokatt @gltrpzy (please let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist!)

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chuckbass-love · 4 years

Note

Omg so hear me out! But I have an idea

What if just after a steamy moment between Chris and y/n he tells her that he has to do a sex scene with his co-star for defending Jacob and y/n instantly gets jealous and upset. So she decides to go sleep on the couch cause she doesn’t wanna see Chris right now due to the fact that he’d chosen the worse time to tell her about the fact that he had to pretend to fuck someone else.

And then the day he comes back after the sex scene he does to talk to her and he kissed her but she pulls away instantly and just says something like “How was she? Was she better then me?” And Chris is so baffled that he follows her up to their bedroom trying to get her to talk to him since he’s worried he’s upset her. Below could be his reaction to her question 🙈

Jealous

Hey love!! I love this idea so much! I really hope you love this because i always get a bit iffy wondering if people actually enjoy what i write for their requests. I’m sticking with the gif in the request. I’ve also changed a couple things with this though so yeah.

Also to the other people that sent in requests, i am working through them. They will be published throughout the next 2 weeks. i promise, sorry for slacking😬

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Smut, angst, fluff. Basically the works. Oral (female receiving), fingering, language, insecurities and jealous behaviour.

Word Count: 2,373

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @capsgrantrogers go check them out ❣️

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

“God i’m so glad that i’m shooting close to home so i get to do that with you every night” he pants as he turns on his side, his eyes meeting yours.

“Me too” you smile, softly at him. Your hand rests on his face, cupping it slightly as you lean in to kiss him quickly “talking of actually, there’s something i wanted to run by you” you raise a brow and motion for him to continue.

“See, there’s an intimate scene that i’m shooting tomorrow, i wanted to let you know beforehand so you’re not shocked when you see it on tv. It’s just a bit of kissing, we’ll both be shirtless and-” you don’t even give him the time to finish, you’ve heard enough for now.

“Wait, what? When did you find out about this Chris?” your annoyance is abundantly clear at this point, he sits up, letting you finish before he responds. “I only found out the other day. It’s not a long one, it’s a 10-15 second long scene and it’ll be over faster than it starts” you shake your head, getting off of the bed and heading into the bathroom to run yourself a bubble bath.

“But, why now? Why do you choose now of all times to tell me, Chris? It’s hardly the right time. You just finish screwing me and you decide to tell me that tomorrow you have to fake fuck another woman”

“It’s just Michelle, we need to, it’s for my job honey, i can’t exactly say no”

“Whatever, have fun i guess” you scoff, slamming the door in his face and locking it to stop him coming in. You need some time alone right now and a bubble bath should help to calm your angered state.

You know it’s all just part of his job, it’s his career. Kissing other women is just what it entails but it doesn’t make it any easier. He has to do sex scenes and intimacy with other actresses. You’ve always been jealous but this time it’s the way he chose to tell you more than anything.

You get into the bath, lying down and trying your hardest to relax your shoulders and your entire body but it’s no use, nothing works.

On one hand you feel bad for kicking off and getting mad, but on the other hand you don’t care.

All of these insecurities and fears are all just about you being wary of him leaving you one day. Like what if... actually no. NO. You refuse to put yourself in that mind set. You’ve been going strong with Chris for 2 years now. He loves you and you love him. But right now you need to allow yourself time to be mad.

Once you get out of the bath, you wrap a towel around your body and open the door. No sign of Chris until you start changing. That’s when he appears in the doorway, a look of worry and cautiousness. Like he’s not sure if you’re okay or if you’re still mad at him.

“I’m sorry” he finally speaks up after what feels like minutes of silence and tension “Chris, i’m tired okay” you feel so exasperated and exhausted. It’s not even just because of what happened, you’ve been working hard lately with your own career and maybe all the added stress has caused you to over react but even so, it doesn’t matter. You’re still upset.

You finish changing before walking out of the room, he follows closely behind, wondering where you are going since It’s late.

“I’m gonna sleep on the sofa”

“Please, can we just talk about it”

“Chris, seriously, let’s just leave it”

“But you’re avoiding me like the plague all because i have a sex scene to film. Like christ Y/N what do you expect me to do? Make a big deal and refuse, it’s my career” you jump at the way he raises his voice at you, he almost never raises it and what’s worse, he never does it to you.

You take a step back before responding “it’s not just about that Chris. How would you feel if the roles were reversed? Huh? If i had just finished having sex with you and then blurted out ‘oh by the way babe, i’m going to be fake screwing another man tomorrow, no biggie, love you’” you mock. Not having a single care for how petty you must sound.

“Y/N i love you, i only love you. What is it about this scene? I’ve filmed plenty of them before and you choose now to suddenly say you’re not okay with me doing them. It makes no sense”

“Of course it’s going to make no sense to you, you’re not the one that’s sat back for years and watched it. You’re not the one that’s been insecure for so long and pushed away worries of-”

“Of what? Of me leaving you? You really think some fake sex scene is going to change how i feel about you Y/N? Do you really think that low of me?” you pause for a second, looking down to the floor and spotting Dodger. He looks from you then to Chris then back to you.

You feel tears brimming in your eyes, Chris spots it instantly as he steps closer, closing the space between the two of you. He leads you over to the sofa, sitting you down on it. He kneels in between your legs, holding your hands.

“Chris, i know you love me but i just worry sometimes that with me being what famous people call a ‘regular person’ that you’d be better off with someone in the same career as you, that’s all”

He just sighs, turning away before turning back to you “I love you and that’s all there is to it Y/N. I don’t care about you not being famous, i hate that word anyway” your eyes meet his as your tears fall. He wipes them away, stroking his thumb across your cheek, in an attempt to soothe you.

“I hate fighting with you, please come to bed with me. I just want to cuddle with my girl before a long day tomorrow” you let out a small giggle, trust Chris to make you smile so easily even after an argument. It’s one of the reasons why you love him so much.

You just nod, not saying another word as he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and pressing kisses to your head.

He lays you down on the bed before getting in himself, he pulls the cover over the two of you “I’m glad we spoke about that” you rest your head on his chest as he throws his arm around you “me too” another forehead kiss and you’re out like a light. He listens to your light snores as you cuddle him more in your sleep and he just smiles.

Chris gets your frustrations and your worries to a certain extent. He understands how his life can get in the way, it can make you insecure. He’s an actor, you’re not. You’re not famous at all. It’s a hard thing to accept but he’ll make sure that from now on, he does everything that he can to make you feel good enough.

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

As soon as you wake and look over to Chris’s side of the bed, you realise that he’s no longer there. He had an early start with filming for Defending Jacob. So it’s not a surprise to you. Instead of feeling shit about the scene he has to do today, you pull yourself out of the funk, reminding yourself of the words he spoke to you just last night.

“I love you and that’s all there is to it”

He does love you. He won’t stray, you’re the only one for him.

You decide to shower, to take your mind off of it for now.

Once you’ve showered, you change and dry your hair before doing your makeup, maybe dolling yourself up will help? Baking is also on the agenda. He’s not back until 5pm today, an earlier finish than normal. The schedule isn’t as hectic.

So you decide that you’re going to make some dinner later, ready for when he gets back. Some chicken and pasta should do, along with a cold beer, his favourite drink. You flop down onto the couch, picking the remote up to turn Netflix on, you have some time to kill before your business meeting over Zoom. Might as well watch more Vampire Diaries.

Your laptop starts making a noise, signalling that the call is ready, you gather your notes before joining the meeting. Your face pops up as well as your colleagues. This can be your distraction for the next hour or so.

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

You finish up with dinner, putting the lid on the pot and making your way to the table with cutlery and drinks, ready for when Chris gets home. He texted that he was leaving the set, that was 10 minutes ago. He’s at least 20 minutes away. So he won’t be long.

Whilst you wait, you sit on the sofa again and you pick your book up and decide to continue reading.

“Honey” he calls out before entering the room.

Chris’s eyes fix on you, a soft smile and a look of adoration in his eyes as he walks over to give you a kiss. You pull away before he can though. His eyes scan your face for a clue as to what’s got you acting off.

“So, how was she then?”

He sighs, loudly as he gives you a look that screams ‘really Y/N’ you mean it in a sarcastic way though, just like when you ask “was she better than me?”

All of a sudden you’re being tugged further down the sofa by your legs, your book is pulled from your hands and he’s lifting up your dress, exposing your brand new laced panties. You can’t help but feel embarrassed slightly at his unsubtle and rather seductive behaviour. You don’t think twice about letting him get on with it though.

“Does daddy need to prove to you that you’re the only one for him?” a pool starts to develop, you shiver at this words and the freezing cold temperature of his hands on your bare thighs. He lifts the dress up a little more until it’s up by your chest.

He pulls you down further before his fingers hook into the panties, sliding them down and off so he can really examine you. You hear a low growl erupt from him as he licks his lips before then taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

You whimper a little, the anticipation is all too much for you, watching him moan and groan at the sight of your soaked pussy.

Just as you try to buck your hips up, his cold hand causes you to jolt as it pushes you back down.

“Down baby, let daddy make you feel good”

And just like that, his tongue starts to lick you all over, his fingers circle your tight and needy hole, desperate for you to beg him before he plunges them deep inside of you. But words aren’t possible right now, you can’t even bring yourself to talk as he continues his assault on your sex. Licking, sucking and slurping. Even spitting on it before rubbing at your clit with his thumb, stretching it down as the rest of his hand holds you down on your stomach.

“Fuck, Chris” you moan, realising what you said after. He prefers daddy, you know this.

“Now now honey. You know that’s not my name right now, don’t you? I’ll let it go this time but i expect you to correct yourself”

“Sorry daddy”

“Good girl. Now, do you want my fingers baby?” you nod frantically, tugging at your bottom lip “yes. I do, please daddy” he shoves them into your mouth, letting you suck them until he decides that your poor cunt has suffered enough.

You hum against them before he finally removes them, wasting no time in sliding them into you, two to start off with and then a third is added.

Your back arches at the extra addition and eventually that along with his mouth wrapped around your clit is far too much for you to handle. You’re so sensitive already, you can tell the climax is nearing.

“Like this baby? Like my fingers filling you up huh?” he starts “daddy only has eyes for you princess, you should know that by now but i’ll tell you what. When we’re in bed later, i’ll prove it to you even more when i’m screaming your name as you make me cum” your walls flutter around his digits, making him smile even more, he enjoys watching you like this.

He gets a thrill out of making your world spin. When your eyes roll back, when your back arches and your toes curl. Especially when you struggle to speak. They are the best times for him. He loves knowing that he’s the only one that can get you into that state.

His fingers get faster, dragging along your walls deliciously. His tongue flicks over your clit too, sucking occasionally and now your peak is just around the corner.

“Chris. Oh god Chris. I’m gonna cum” you yell, gripping onto his hand on your tummy, which he removes as he holds it above your head. Your hips start to buck like crazy.

“That’s it baby, cum for daddy”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps, thanks to his dirty words of encouragement.

You don’t move, just lay there panting. Your heart beat is through the roof as you calm down after that intense orgasm. You’ve definitely needed that all day.

“I think we need dinner now” you say, sitting up and adjusting your dress but he just pulls you down so that you’re straddling him.

“There’s plenty more proof where that came from baby, so don’t think that was all” you feel your cheeks heat up as you suddenly go all shy.

He’s most definitely proved himself but you can’t wait for round 2.

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

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#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #smut #defending jacob #angst #fluff #cevans #fanfic #fic #one shot #request

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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years

Text

[Whitty x Boyfriend]

Chapter 5 - Let's just chill!

Boyfriend awoke with a bit of an issue in the.. south region..

He groaned, putting a hand on his head before sitting up. It hurt too. He was about to handle it when he felt a presence to the side of him.

Whitty was just standing there..

Staring..

The blue haired male screamed and threw himself off the other side of the bed, which only made Whitty blink and lean over to look. "Sorry I startled you." He called to him. Boyfriend could only see the swirls in his vision. He eventually got up, pulling himself back onto his bed, also bringing his comforter back up as well. "Whitty, how long have you been standing there?"

"Mmh... Most of the night."

"Wh-MOST-"

Boyfriend threw his hands up in exasperation. "Did you SLEEP??" In response to his question, Whitty shook his head. "I told you I don't really need to." Boyfriend grimaced in his direction, making a small sound of discomfort to himself, then sighed heavily. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought you were having a nightmare." Whitty admitted softly. Boyfriend's cheeks began to heat up as he spoke. "It sounded like you were calling my name.. Was I.. doing something bad to you?" Whitty seemed hesitant to ask, gently pulling on the large shirt he was given.

"No no no! You didn't do anything bad! I uh.. It was uh.." Boyfriend bit his knuckle. Well he certainly couldn't say what was actually happening, but he was such a bad liar. "It was a recap of our day out.. yesterday!" He blurted out. Whitty blinked. He did something bad yesterday. Bee says it wasn't directed towards him, but he was still weary of him thinking about it. "How about you go wait in the living room? I'll make us some breakfast, yeah?" Boyfriend offered, and Whitty nodded, turning around to leave the room, of course, obliviously leaving the door open. Boyfriend let out a gentle sigh and got up to close it, then deal with his issue. Shouldn't take too long..

___________________________________________

Whitty sat down on the couch, nervously fiddling with his fingers as he stared at the blank tv. He couldn't have left a bad impression right? Of course not, if he didn't like him, he certainly wouldn't invite him over, and cuddle with him. Cuddling.. was nice. It would be nice to do that right now. He decided to figure out the tv, picking up the remote and mashing a random button. He pressed damn there every button on the device before actually getting to the power button, and he couldn't help but jump when he heard the tv turn on.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to meet Dearest's daughter today. At least it was only her, and from what he knew, she knew nothing about him other than when they first met. Does she even know she's meeting the same guy? She looked pretty scared of him. Whitty squirmed in discomfort at the thought. What if she knew about him and her dad? What if she didn't like him? What if she rats him out? His head swirled with worst case scenarios, and he couldn't help but stress about it. Boyfriend exited his room about five minutes later. Whitty could hear the bare feet slap against the wooden hallway floor. "Whitty? Whitty, what's wrong?" The blue haired male rushed to the couch. Whitty hadn't realized he had started crying, clutching his head in his hands like he felt a pain too great to bare.

Boyfriend hopped onto the furniture beside him, gently hugging his head against his chest. "I'm sorry, did I upset you? I promise you didn't do anything bad." He mumbled softly. Whitty shook his head. "I'm just.. nervous." Boyfriend parted a bit, looking down at the bomb with a slightly confused expression. "Nervous? About what?"

"Meeting her."

Boyfriend understood. She did talk about how scary and dangerous he seemed. He didn't exactly specify that it was Whitty he was talking to. There is a chance she could freak out when she sees him. Maybe Boyfriend hadn't thought this all the way through..

"How about we eat breakfast? It's hard to think on an empty stomach." He hugged onto Whitty again, gently rubbing his back. Whitty quickly began to relax. No one had ever done this with him before, and it was really affective. He really liked it. "Can we do that thing first? The cuddle?" Whitty asked softly, and Boyfriend grinned. "Of course we can, Whits." He got down, then climbed into Whitty's lap, but he faced him this time, wiping away his tears, just like he did under the tree. Whitty couldn't help but smile a little, wrapping his arms around Boyfriend in a slightly tighter squeeze than the first time. He felt warm..

___________________________________________

Boyfriend had decided to make waffles, oatmeal, grits, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, anything he could honestly find in his kitchen to make a big enough meal for someone who eats so much so fast. He himself was contempt with eating two waffles and some eggs, while Whitty, of course, ate everything else. "Dude, where does it all go?" Bee then asked, receiving a simple "hm?" from Whitty across from him. "Like.. You eat so much, but it's like it literally melts right off of you." Whitty shrugged. "It kinda does.. I digest food faster than normal humans." He explained softly. He picked up his dirty dishes and put them in the sink, with instruction, and did the same with Boyfriend's dishware. "Aww you don't have to clean up after us every time." Boyfriend laughed, sitting up and stretching before standing out of his seat. "I like to. I like to think it shows.. my appreciation for you feeding me." Whitty responded in a soft tone. Of course he didn't really know how to DO dishes, just put them in the sink. Boyfriend would deal with that pile later.

"Come on, let's get ready to go. I have a whole day planned for us." Boyfriend bounced on his toes before rushing back to his room to change. Whitty sighed softly. He didn't know how to use the dryer..

Boyfriend was quick to throw on his usual baggy jeans, white shirt, and his cap. He could barely contain his excitement, he was running back and forth in the hall, of course grabbing his mic and pocketing it for good measure. Whitty had crouched down in front of the dryer, staring intensely at it. "My clothes are trapped." He whined softly. Boyfriend came out from behind him, and couldn't help but laugh. "This is the handle to pull it open." He pulled it, and Whitty let out a sound of relief. His clothes were free!!

___________________________________________

"I'm gonna miss this carpet."

"We're gonna come back dummy."

Whitty blinked. He hadn't thought of returning to his house, he thought he was only letting him stay one night..

Boyfriend was sneaky in managing to get him to stay. He secretly applauded himself. He then smiled up at Whitty, gently grabbing his hand. "Let's get going!"

He decided to take Whitty to all his favorite spots. There was a burger joint he and Pico occasionally hung out at, and Whitty was totally down to eat again, so they went.

"Yeah, all the good stuff happens at night, so that's when we go see Gigi." Boyfriend explained with his mouth full, and Whitty nodded to show he was listening. "Oh crap, I forgot! I'm battling her mom tonight! I don't really know where though, they were gonna come pick me up." Boyfriend put a hand on his head and threw it back in distress. "Does this mean I won't meet.. Gigi?" Whitty questioned him. Boyfriend shook his head. "I guess we'll just have to wait until after. Her mom is sneaky as hell, who knows where she is at any time." He shuddered. That lady genuinely scares him.

Next up was the mall.

Whitty was hesitant to go into such a crowded area, but Boyfriend led him through the door in the back way. There were way less people coming through there, so he wouldn't have to worry about being spotted. As they entered, though, Whitty got this weird feeling.. Like they were being watched. He looked around the clothing section they were in. It was quiet back there too, save for the gentle music playing from the speakers in the ceiling. "Ooh! We should shop clothes for you!" Boyfriend then suggested. "But.. I won't be able to carry them with me everywhere.." Whitty objected, holding his hands up nervously. "You won't carry them everywhere. They'll be at my place." Boyfriend pointed his thumb at his own chest proudly.

He really did trick him into moving in, didn't he?

"The only money I get is from the collabs I've been doing so far, so until I get rich and famous, you can get one more outfit and a pair of shoes." Whitty hummed uncomfortably. Now he was taking more money from him, great. "Hey, I'm offering. Now go pick out what you like." Boyfriend smacked Whitty's leg at the knee cap gently, and Whitty quickly held it, puffing his cheeks. "Fineeee, I'll go pick out something.." He huffed reluctantly, but proceeded to look at some shirts and pants and such.

___________________________________________

The two walked out of the mall with one bag, and Boyfriend was holding a box, which had his new shoes in it. "Thanks.. for getting me new clothes. I'm sorry to spend your money." Whitty mumbled shamefully, and Boyfriend huffed at him. "I told you, I don't mind. I want you to be comfortable since it's obvious you've never relaxed a day in your life." Bee grunted in response, nudging his leg as they walked. Whitty laughed nervously, looking behind them. He swore up and down he felt like someone was following them..

"Where to next?" Boyfriend thought out loud, mostly to himself. It was already one in the afternoon, they only had about three hours left until they were coming to pick him up. They decided to go back to the house. Whitty felt uncomfortable being out in the open for so long. "You're sure you didn't tell anyone you were talking to me?" The bomb asked, taking his shoes off inside the house. "Yes, Whitty. I haven't mentioned your name to anyone. If anything I addressed you as 'the guy I battled last week' to Pico. Why?" Whitty shook his head, stepping onto the carpet, then relaxing all over again. It was just so soft-

"Whitty?" Boyfriend turned to look at him. Whitty sighed under his breath, then sat up. "I.. felt like someone was following us. All day. It just feels ironic that I'm supposedly meeting someone-a friend of yours-today." He muttered. Boyfriend stared at him for a moment. "You don't think.. You're not thinking I set you up, are you?" He asked hesitantly, putting a hand to his own chest. Whitty didn't answer right away. He curled up into a ball in his spot, the possibilities beginning to race through his mind all over again. Suddenly he didn't feel as safe as he wanted to. Suddenly he couldn't trust Boyfriend as much as he wanted to. Bee could see him breaking down into an anxious wreck, staring intently at one spot on the floor.

He was a little hurt, yes, but this guy had so many people out for him, it wasn't even funny. He couldn't be mad at him for being cautious. That's why he's still alive today. "Whitty.." Boyfriend approached him, and his heart broke when he saw how Whitty coiled away a bit. He didn't stop though. He crouched down, putting a hand on his head. Whitty slowly looked up at him, his black, inky tears trailing down his cheeks once again today. "When I told you I would be there for you, I meant it." He told him. "I wouldn't throw you in the gutter. Remember that? I would never set up my friend. If you don't feel safe going outside, you can stay in here, okay?" Boyfriend gently leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Whitty had no idea what that was, but he liked how it felt. It was like his worries melted away with the feeling. Like he was.. safe. He took a breath, then nodded at Boyfriend's words. "Wait.. do that again?" Whitty's eyes held a less somber expression, and he gently held onto Boyfriend's head. This caused him to blush heavily. Whitty could feel his face heating in his hands. "W-What? A-A kiss?" Boyfriend was a little surprised as Whitty nodded. He tried to calm his heart beat. He could feel it beating out of his chest, so hard he would have thought he was having a heart attack. He leaned down and gave Whitty another peck on the forehead, and the taller couldn't help but close his eyes at the warmth it gave him.

"Thank you, BB." Whitty responded softly, letting his face go, then standing back up. "Y-Y-Yeah! N-No p-problem!" Boyfriend's hands were shaking, and he was laughing awkwardly. His face was so red, and Whitty remembered what that meant. He smiled, then picked Boyfriend up, a high pitched "beep!" coming from him. "Whitty!!" He exclaimed nervously, hiding his face in his hands. Whitty tilted his head. That must be an even more positive reaction! He sat down on the couch, still holding Bee in his arms. He was determined they would cuddle until Girlfriend came to get him.

___________________________________________

Boyfriend jolted awake to Whitty staring down at him. Again. He yelped out, but quickly exhaled, putting a hand on his own chest. "You don't wanna be late for your battle." Whitty noted softly. He was still holding Boyfriend. No wonder he fell asleep so fast. He sat up, and Whitty allowed him to, setting him on the floor in front of the couch. Boyfriend stretched his arms up, groaning at the good stretch. "Thanks Whits.." He mumbled softly, his face quickly beginning to redden again just by looking at him. "I'll protect the house while you're gone, don't worry." Whitty told him, and Bee laughed. "I'm sure you will." He made his way over to the door, slipping his shoes back on. "You sure you'll be okay?" He turned around, and watched as Whitty curled up on the couch. He nodded in response, turning the tv on. Bee smiled, then made his way out.

Whitty really wanted to see Boyfriend's little rap battle, to of course be emotional support, but he couldn't be seen. It sucked. He felt lonely all over again, sitting in the living room, sitting on a small couch in front of a tv playing something he wasn't interested in, and he had no knowledge of how to change the channel. He hugged his knees to his chest, puffing one of his cheeks in thought. Boyfriend seemed to genuinely care for him. He.. really did care for him.. Hopefully his friends are similar to that. Even if they weren't, Boyfriend was enough for him. He was all he needed..

___________________________________________

Whitty looked away from the cats on the screen about an hour later to the sound of the front door opening. His insides fluttered, like.. weirdly. He put a hand on his chest as the door opened, and Boyfriend walked in, talking to someone and laughing. He turned to look at Whitty, then winked. "Gigi, here's the guy I wanted you to meet!" Girlfriend walked past him, and looked directly into Whitty's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, and Whitty began to sweat nervously. "H.. Hi-"

"I'm very sorry!"

Whitty's eyes widened, and his cheeks began to glow orange. "I also participated in pushing you to that point, and I wanted to apologise for doing that." She took her shoes off, making her way into the living room. Whitty and Boyfriend let out a breath of relief, the latter quickly following after her. "I-It's okay.. really.. it happens.." Whitty stammered awkwardly, shrinking against the couch as she smiled up at him.

"I'm Girlfriend, but just call me Gigi. I hope we can get to know each other better. And don't worry, I'll keep you a secret from my parents." Whitty's eyes brightened as she spoke those words. She seemed kind already. "See!! I told you it would go well!" Boyfriend hugged Girlfriend from behind, making her giggle. "Yeah.." Whitty mumbled to himself.

Maybe it won't be that bad making friends..

#fnfboyfriend #whitty #friday night funkin #fnf whitty #fnfwhitmore #whitty x bf #bf x whitty

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mamaspresley · 4 years

Text

a price to pay | rc

request: ‘I’m not sure if you’ll feel comfortable writing this but could you do one where the reader is dating Pope but cheats on him with Rafe at a party? And his always been sensitive when it comes to rafe because he always thought something would happen between them because of how close they were. Hope that makes sense’

a/n: oh my god… this is a phenomenal request… but at the same time how could you do this… how could EYE do this… i’m so sorry in advance. jd if you’re reading this—

word count: 4.9k+ (whew)

pairing(s): rafe x kook best friend but she’s dating a pogue even though she loves rafe but she won’t come to terms with it!reader

warning(s): underage drinking, pope being kinda mean, smut, choking, cheating, violence

***

pope was always insecure, whether it be about his physical appearance, his relationship with you, or about his entire being as a whole. he wasn’t the most confident person and you knew this. hell, you embraced it about him. you loved that about pope, how human he was. the two of you were imperfect and you always made sure to tell the other how much you admired that about each other. your relationship with pope was healthy and one of envy, many people admired the two of you.

one of those people was not rafe cameron.

you’d grown up with rafe, your families were friends and although you didn’t condone his unpredictable behaviour or ongoing attempts to ruin the pogues’ entire being, he was still a close friend of yours. your boyfriend had his opinion on rafe—everyone had their opinions on rafe—but ultimately he didn’t love you any less for being friends with him. rafe, despite what everyone thought, could actually be a good guy when he wasn’t driven by hatred or anger. you’d spent enough time with him to know.

the biggest flaw in your friendship with rafe was, ironically, your relationship with pope. when you began dating pope, your friend made sure his opinion was heard. he hated the pogues more than anything on the earth, and made it known across the island. you weren’t technically a pogue yourself, having lived in figure eight for so long, but like your close friend kiara, you chose to live the pogue lifestyle. kooks were unnecessarily rude and stuck up and overall not good people, so you chose the people you actually enjoyed the company of. like your boyfriend, pope.

“wait, i thought he was dead? didn’t he die in the last episode?”

“he came back to life,” pope explained, not very helpfully, while the two of you sat in your living room, your eyes glued to the flat screen television ahead that played pope’s favourite netflix show that you had agreed to watch. you were a little confused, and pope was doing an awful job at explaining.

“this show is whack,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. pope chuckled, his chest vibrating with laughter as your head was resting against it, his fingers twirling in your hair. you tilted your head back, making the dark skinned boy look down. “what time is it? should we go?”

pope checked the time on his phone, a curse falling from his lips as he realized how late you were. “we should’ve left twenty minutes ago.”

“babe! i told you to remind me,” you groaned, sitting up while the boy grabbed the remote to shut off the tv. grabbing his hand, you pulled pope off the couch and out of the living room, making your way through the kitchen where your mom was. “we’re leaving now. i’ll be home later.”

“bye, you two! have fun!”

“bye, mrs. y/l/n,” pope said sweetly before you dragged him out of the house. the two of you climbed into your car, and you backed out of your driveway before getting onto the main road and heading to the boneyard—the pogues were throwing a kegger, a usual saturday night for you, and you promised you’d be there about ten minutes ago.

oops.

“are you still good to dd tonight?” pope had made sure to ask on the way over. you’d appointed yourself as designated driver for the night, seeing as drinking wasn’t really your favourite thing, and since pope had mentioned wanting to let loose tonight, you figured it made sense. pope rarely drank, so you wanted him to have fun.

“yeah. you know i don’t really like drinking anyway,” you answered as you pulled into the lot off to the side of the beach. glancing over at your boyfriend who looked a little stressed, you smiled sweetly. “relax, babe. the whole point of tonight is for you to have fun, right?”

the boy nodded. pope wasn’t usually one to let loose. he was always worried about his parents or about school—somehow, you and jj had convinced him to take a break from all that tonight. how you got through to him, you had no idea.

you and pope made your way to the party, setting off to find your friends. even for the slightly late arrival, you were surprised how packed the beach was already. pogues, kooks, and tourons alike scattered across the sand, most of which had drinks in their hands as they mingled. you smiled when you laid eyes on kiara, and you pulled pope towards the group.

“hey!” john b greeted as the two of you approached. jj immediately offered pope his drink, a red solo cup full of some unknown beer, and the boy with the darker skin grimaced before downing the liquid.

“did you see rafe when you came in?” kiara asked, pulling you away from the sight of your boyfriend nearly gagging at the alcohol he’d just drank. at the mention of the kook’s name, you frowned and shook your head. rafe was at a boneyard party? “i saw him with kelce a couple minutes ago. who invited him?”

“it’s rafe cameron,” jj stated. “he doesn’t need an invite.”

the night went on, a bit boring from your perspective as everyone around you was drunk. even pope had gotten hammered, the boy being a total lightweight and getting tipsy off two beers. you had a hard time holding pope up as he stumbled around, while also trying your hardest not to laugh at the boy. you’d only seen pope drunk a couple times, but it would never fail to make you laugh at his stupid demeanour.

you don’t know when, but at some point in the night your amusement of pope’s drunken stupor had morphed into annoyance. he was acting bitchier than usual, and the alcohol (which he was downing left and right) had him turning into another person. one that you didn’t necessarily like.

“i don’t need you to parent me right now, y/n,” the boy slurred, his eyebrows downturned as he raised a weak finger at you. “you’re my bitch, not my mom.”

you scoffed—what did he just call you? “did you just call me your bitch?” you moved your arms to fold over your chest as you watched him try to find his balance with his sneakers sinking into the sand below him.

“i did! and you’re definitely acting like one!” pope shouted, a little louder than you were sure he meant. he was really getting on your last nerve.

“you know what? i’ve been standing here all night not having any fun because i promised you i wouldn’t drink,” you said. “but right now i don’t think i could even look at you without some alcohol in my system.”

“okay, fine! go get wasted, y/n,” pope said with a pout, stumbling a little as the liquid in his cup sloshed over the rim. he raised his hand again to point at you, a scowl on his lips. “go be with your kook friends! you… you kook!”

scoffing, you shook your head incredulously. you couldn’t believe how childish he was acting right now. “i can’t even with you.”

“i’ll find my own way home, y/n.” pope went off to find his friends, and you turned on your heel, practically fuming. all you wanted was a drink—thankfully, there was free beer being supplied.

just as you were working the keg, filling up a plastic cup full of the god awful, but free, beer, you felt a hand grasp your shoulder. you jumped, dropping your half full cup to the ground before turning around, seeing a familiar face. you cursed.

“rafe! ugh, don’t do that.” you bent down to pick up your cup, wiping the sand off on your shirt while rafe let out a low laugh, moving around to stand in front of you. you looked up, starting to fill your cup up again as you looked at rafe. “i heard you were lingering around. why are you at a kegger? you hate boneyard parties.”

“got nothing better to do on a saturday night,” rafe said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against a large branch nearby. he raised an eyebrow at you, smirking boyishly. “figured i’d run into my favourite pogue here, anyways.”

smiling small, you looked back down at your drink that was nearly full. well at least if you didn’t have your boyfriend to keep you company, you had rafe. basically the next best thing.

“saw you and heyward getting into it. what happened?” rafe wasn’t looked at as a nice person, per se, but you usually got special treatment. he’d been one of your closest friends since birth, after all.

“oh, nothing. he’s just acting like a dick,” you mumbled, shutting the keg off and looking back up at rafe as he watched you intently, his eyes showing that he was listening, that he was interested. “when he drinks he gets kinda mean. it’s not really a big deal.”

“well if he’s treating you like a dick, then i feel like it is a big deal.” rafe moved to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before tapping the side of his cup with yours. “let’s get fucked up, yeah?”

you smiled up at him.

the alcohol had hit you a lot quicker than you expected, and soon enough you were stumbling around the beach with your hand clasped in rafe’s and the two of you laughing about everything and nothing. you loved rafe, the two of you had a special connection, and there was never a dull moment with him. like tonight, for example. unfortunately, you’d had a little too much to drink and were feeling a bit sick. you weren’t anywhere near sober, but rafe was so he offered to drive you home.

“if you crash sheila, i’m going to be so mad at you,” you mumbled, pointing a shaky finger at the older boy in reference to your car. rafe laughed, shaking his head as he held you up with his arm slung underneath yours. “seriously. like, so mad. wait, should i tell pope? that i’m going home? what if he’s worried or something?”

“i’m sure it’s fine,” rafe assured you, but his eyes caught sight of the pogue standing over by the trees with kiara, and rafe figured he’d do you a solid and give you the satisfaction. so rafe whistled sharply, waving the boy over. he wasn’t nearly as under the influence as he was before.

“what do you—woah, y/n, you okay?” pope placed a hand on your arm to steady you, watching as your head lolled back and forth as you giggled. you reached out, booping his nose. pope looked up at rafe. “how much has she had to drink?”

“quite a bit. i was about to take her home,” rafe explained, adjusting his arm under you. you looked completely out of it, and you felt it too as pope’s gaze darted between the two of you. he knew you were friends, obviously, but that didn’t mean he trusted rafe.

“you’re taking her home?”

“rafe is driving,” you remarked, doing your best to explain but not doing a very good job as your words slurred together. “i’m letting him drive sheila. but if he crashes her, i’m going to be sooo pissed.”

pope knew that you were not in any state to be driving, and he was still a little intoxicated himself so despite his better interest, he agreed to let rafe take you home. even if he didn’t trust the guy, he knew that rafe would never intentionally hurt you. “okay,” pope finally said with a firm nod. “can you make sure she texts me when she gets in safe though?”

rafe nodded, and the three of you said goodbye before rafe found the car and helped you into the passenger seat. he drove so smoothly that you didn’t even realize you were parked in your driveway until he was helping you inside. simply just helping you walk wasn’t doing the trick, so rafe resorted to carrying you over his shoulder as he brought you into your house. thankfully everyone was asleep so he carried you upstairs no problem, already knowing his way around your house from the many times he’d come over.

rafe set you down on your bed, the door already shut from when you kicked it closed seconds before with a giggle, and moved to dig through your dresser. rafe turned around with a t-shirt and pajama shorts in his hands, throwing them at you, who lay still on the bed, giggling wickedly.

“y/n, come on. you need to change into your pajamas because you can’t sleep in your clothes,” rafe instructed. you giggled some more, looking over at him before holding your arms out.

“you do it.”

sighing, rafe walked over to you. first he started with your pants, slipping the jeans off quite easily and helping you get into your satin shorts. then came your top. he leaned forward, one knee on the bed to stabilize himself as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

“woah there, big guy. at least take me to dinner first,” you giggled, and rafe rolled his eyes as he helped take your shirt off. you laid on the bed in your black bra and pajama shorts, looking up at him through your somehow still intact fake eyelashes, smiling innocently. “stop staring at me, creep.”

“i’m not staring.”

“you are too staring!” you pointed up at him, giggling some more before you tilted your head. “and you’re blushing.”

“i am not.” rafe grabbed the clean shirt, rolling it up to make it easier for him to put it on you, before you pouted and grabbed the shirt from him, throwing it across the room. rafe sighed, looking down at you. “y/n, seriously.”

“y/n, seriously,” you mimicked him, breaking character as you laughed again. “you’re so funny, rafe. way funnier than pope.”

“don’t say that,” he mumbled, moving across the room to grab the shirt again.

“say what? that i like you better than pope? it’s true.” you weren’t even hearing the words in your mouth, completely blacked out now from all the alcohol consumption that your little body had a hard time handling. rafe bent down to pick the shirt up off the floor, walking back over to you and throwing the article of clothing at you.

“put it on,” he said grouchily, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“no,” you said, adding a little too much sass in your tone but you could care less. the look rafe was giving you only fueled your attitude. “who says i sleep with clothes on? hmm?”

“just put the shirt on, y/n.”

sitting up slightly, you blinked up at him flirtatiously, giving him a wicked smile. “you’re hot when you’re bossy.”

you could see his determination flicker before he quickly caught himself. scoffing, rafe shook his head and went over to switch the light off, cascading the room into a darkness that wasn’t entirely pitch black, as the lights from outside still shone in from your window. you got to your feet, a little wobbly but rafe caught you before you could fall on your face.

“you need to go to sleep, y/n.”

“why?”

“because you’re drunk and you’re gonna wish you’d slept for longer tomorrow morning.” rafe’s hands were on the curves of your waist, steadying you as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, smiling small. rafe began looking around, seemingly trying to avoid eye contact as he rambled. “you need to text pope, too. where’s your phone? i’ll do it.”

“don’t.” your words caused rafe to look back at you, meeting your eyes. the look you held wasn’t good and both of you knew it, but that didn’t stop you from blurting, “kiss me.”

it was incredible how quick rafe responded to the request you’d just made. “y/n, no.”

“come on,” you groaned, pulling him closer by tightening your hold on him. “i don’t even like pope anyway. i like you, rafe. i always have, and i just never wanted to tell you because i was scared but i’m not scared anymore so kiss me, rafe. please.”

rafe paused for a moment, like he was processing your words. kissing you was morally wrong -- yeah, he’d been in love with you since the day you met when you were, like, two years old, but that didn’t make it justifiable for him to kiss you. not when you had a boyfriend, and not when you were this drunk.

but if you kissed him first?

“fine,” you finally mumbled after realizing he wasn’t gonna answer. “i’ll do it.” so you did, and rafe did not hesitate to kiss you back.

it was an instinct to deepen the kiss, his lips parting as your hands moved to his hair, tugging at the strands before he began walking you backwards. you found the bed, where rafe laid down and let you climb over him, your legs on either side of him as you bent down to connect your lips again. he tasted of mint and the slightest bit of alcohol, but that might’ve been you. your mind was too fuzzy to recall.

you readjusted so rafe was directly over you, one arm holding him up as the other found yours, lacing your fingers together as he pushed you down against the mattress. he was a fantastic kisser, which you had no doubt about, and knew how to move in a way that was so smooth and careful that you didn’t even realize he was grinding down on you until you felt his hard on against your clothed heat. your lips fell parted, a moan escaping as he took the opportunity to pull away and kiss down your jaw and your neck, sucking sweetly and making sure to leave a few marks. he released your hand to bring his down to your hip, lifting your leg to wrap around his torso and he squeezed the back of your thigh sensually as you felt his tongue dart out to wet the spot he’d just marked near your collarbone.

“rafe,” you breathed, your hands finding his hair, and it was then that rafe pulled away. his eyes fell down to meet yours.

“is this okay?”

“yeah.” you nodded. rafe leaned down to find your lips on his again, and you curled your fingers through his hair before he sat up. with your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched as rafe lifted his arms, one hand going to the back of his shirt and tugging it over his head. your gaze fell to his abs as he discarded the shirt, leaning forward to capture your lips over his once again. every thought or doubt of yours flew out the window when he kissed you, and you swore the rest of the night happened in a blur.

he was kissing down your body, his lips working wonders on you. one moment his tongue was inside you, working you towards the edge and the next moment it was his dick rocking inside you at a steady pace. rafe did a good job of keeping you quiet, his hand wrapped around your throat, restricting your airways just enough as he buried himself inside you time and time again. you’d never been fucked like this, this good, and it was all overwhelming that this was rafe making you feel this good. he didn’t let you forget it as he constantly made you moan his name over and over.

“feel so good around my cock, love.” the way he spoke to you made you moan even louder, the sound coming out weak as he choked you relentlessly, one hand on your throat and the other on your thigh, rubbing up and down. with your leg wrapped loosely around his hips rafe sunk into you at a different angle, hitting the spot each time before he could feel you clench around him, a knowing grunt leaving his lips as he moaned, “so fucking tight, princess. you like it when i fuck your cunt like this? you wanna cum?” you had no choice but to whine in response, the hand around your throat making it impossible to speak. “cum for me, angel. tell me how good i make you feel.”

this was far from any of the other guys you’d slept with. sure, the list wasn’t long, but it felt like nothing when you were with rafe. the way he made you cum, praising you all night long, and not to mention how he took care of you afterwards? he pulled the sheets over your body, leaving kisses across your stomach all the way up to your neck before he gave you the sweetest goodnight kiss. he rubbed your back until you fell asleep.

the next thing you knew, you were waking up in your bed with the sun shining way too bright, a frequent knocking sounding from your door. a bit confused and with a major headache pounding at your skull, you sat up, rubbing your eyes before they fell to the shirtless body in your bed next to you. his face was buried into the white pillow case as his back muscles were flexed, his arms hugging the pillow under him. fucking shit.

“y/n? honey?”

grimacing, you scrambled out of your bed, finding rafe’s shirt on the floor and slipping it over your head before turning the doorknob and opening the door slightly. “hi,” you whispered, smiling awkwardly at your mother.

“just wanted to make sure you were up,” your mom said, eyeing the way you held onto the door handle. “what, you got a boy in there?” she moved to peer around the corner but you stepped in front of her.

“no.”

“is pope here?”

“of course not,” you scoffed, gripping the handle so tight your knuckles were turning white. “i need to get changed. so, um--”

your mom got the hint, and after eyeing you again, she walked away. sighing out in relief, you went back into your room and locked the door, looking at rafe with a grimace. shit, shit, shit. shit.

“rafe,” you whisper-shouted, kneeling on the bed and crawling over to him. you sat back on your heels, placing a hand on his warm back before shaking him slightly. the boy let out a groan, mumbling something as he rolled his head to the side. “rafe, you need to leave before my mom sees you.”

“‘m fine, y/n.”

“i don’t care if you’re fine. i’m not and you need to leave.” you shook him again, and rafe rolled over fully, opening his eyes slowly before reaching a hand up to rub his eyes. quite adorably, might you add, but that was beside the point. “rafe, please.”

“i’ve spent the night before,” rafe mumbled, yawning as he stretched out his arms. “it’s fine, y/n. don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“i wouldn’t if i could find them,” you snapped, and your words had rafe sitting up in an instant. you raised your eyebrows at him, nodding. “yeah. that’s why you need to leave. and, like, now, please.”

“is he here?” rafe asked, his hand finding his hair before he peeled the sheets back and stepped out of bed, looking around for his boxers. you looked the other way out of courtesy.

“is who here?”

“your boyfriend.” you grimaced at the term, even though that’s exactly what pope was. what the fuck was wrong with you?

“no.”

“then why do i need to leave?” he questioned. scoffing, you looked back at the boy and shot him a look. was he being serious right now?

“really, rafe?”

“well i’m just saying--” rafe was interrupted by the sound of buzzing that both of you seemed to hear as you froze. slowly you stood up, following the sound to where your phone was on the ground underneath your jeans. hesitantly, you picked it up and flipped it over, reading the display name. shit. “who is it?”

“it’s pope.”

“let it ring,” rafe instructed. you shot him a look but ultimately followed his orders, watching as the call went to voicemail. then you looked back up at rafe, who had a look of guilt washed across his face. he met your eyes, licking his lips. “y/n--”

you shook your head and he fell silent.

you waited for rafe to get dressed, doing the same yourself, before you both headed downstairs rather quietly. you tried to sneak him out the back, considering he could just go across your lawn to get to his house, but by the time you opened the patio door you realized it was a shit idea. your mom was out in the backyard, thankfully with her back turned, so you ushered rafe back inside and you hurried to the front door.

“text me when you talk to pope, okay?” rafe said, looking up at you as he slipped on his sneakers. you nodded, your hand gripping the doorknob with such intensity your knuckles began to ache. rafe seemed to be the cure, though, as everything went numb when he looked at you with a certain look in his eyes while asking, “is it completely wrong that i wanna kiss you right now?”

“yes,” you said, but your hands found the sides of his neck as you pulled him down to meet your lips anyways. the kiss was quick, a bit messy but neither of you cared as you pulled away, your hearts racing. “bye.”

“mm, hold on.” rafe leaned in for another kiss, and you giggled as he pulled you close before filling the gap, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face. against your lips he whispered, “my girl,” and you thought you would melt right then and there.

“i’m gonna kill you soon, cameron,” you whispered, and rafe pulled away with a smirk while you opened the door. you leaned against the doorframe and watched as rafe made his way down the steps of your house, but something felt wrong. his pace slowed to a stop and you frowned, peering around the corner. kiara’s car was in the driveway, but it was not kie -- it was pope. and he was pissed.

“seriously? rafe cameron?” the boy shouted as he walked around the front of the car.

“my favourite pogue. how’s life on the cut, dude?” rafe was egging him on at this point, but pope was not laughing with him -- in fact, he threw the first punch.

“pope! stop it!” you cried, running down the steps at the sight of rafe falling back from the force behind the punch. rafe laughed, standing up as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“that the best you can do, heyward?”

the dark skinned boy clenched his jaw, moving to attack rafe against but the kook was too fast and pope landed a punch to the hard brick wall of your house, and you winced in pain as you watched it. rafe laughed again, shaking his head. “i’m over here, buddy.”

“rafe, stop it!” you snapped, and the boy’s blue eyes flickered over to you. his expression softened, and in the single second he took to look at you, pope was back to defense mode. he was wailing on him, blood spewing from rafe’s lips as he fell to the pavement. you grabbed pope’s arm, spinning the boy around. “stop it, pope!”

“you didn’t fucking text me, y/n!” pope shouted, and the intensity of his voice made you take a step back. “i knew i shouldn’t have fucking let him take you home last night! i knew this would happen!”

“what, pope?” you asked, for whatever reason deciding to play dumb. “what did you know would happen?”

“you’re both kooks,” pope said, his voice a bit calmer now but the expression on his face saying otherwise. “i should have fucking known. i never trusted him. why else would he be leaving your house at nine in the morning? it’s fucking obvious, y/n. you’re even wearing his fucking shirt. you’re supposed to be wearing my shirt--you’re my girlfriend. not this prick’s.”

“he’s not a prick,” you mumbled, and pope only laughed in incredulity.

“you’re seriously defending him? holy fuck. why am i not surprised?” pope looked over at rafe, who was collecting himself from the rough encounter before. “from you, i expect this shit. but you,” pope turned to you, his eyes blazing with anger. “i thought you were better than this. but you’re just another fucking kook. i don’t know how i ever fell for your fucking lies.”

“don’t talk to her that way, man.”

“what, like she just cheated on me?” pope fired, and rafe immediately fell silent. pope scoffed, pointing with the hand he held his keys in between the two of you. “just a couple of fucking kooks. don’t even think about coming on the cut ever again. rafe, you know better than anyone i could fuck you up if i wanted.”

“would you like to prove it to me, princess?” rafe retorted snarkily, and you put a hand on his arm to ease him a bit as pope got back in his car. the pogue drove away seconds later, leaving you and rafe alone, standing in your driveway. you turned to the boy, your heart beating a million miles a minute.

rafe glanced down at you. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have--”

“no, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “i don’t care.” the crack in your voice said otherwise and rafe caught you in his arms before you even started crying. your sobs were muffled by the fabric of his shirt, your hands gripping onto the material as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“it’s okay, baby. shh, it’s okay.” as rafe held you, his fingers running through your hair soothingly, you heard the front door open and immediately your mom came running out. you gripped onto rafe tighter, burying your face in his chest.

“oh, y/n -- rafe sweetie, what happened?”

“pope came and, um...” rafe hesitated a bit, you felt his chin rest atop your head as he dropped his voice to a whisper, like he was trying to protect you from hearing. “he broke up with her. said she was just like the rest of the kooks. i saw it happen and came over.”

“oh, and he hit you? you poor things.” your mother was completely oblivious to what really happened, and you made a mental note to thank rafe later. “come on, let’s get you two inside and let me take a look at those wounds, rafe.”

as your mother walked back inside, rafe followed with his arm still around your shoulders, your hand coming up to wipe your tears. he stopped in the doorway, looking down the hall before glancing down at you. lifting both of his hands to your face, rafe wiped away your tears, his eyes soft as he met yours. “it’s okay, sweetheart.”

“thank you.”

rafe pressed the gentlest kiss to your lips before smiling small, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. you did the same with yours around his torso, burying your face in your chest. lying to pope and lying to your mom, all within the last 12 hours, was a new experience for you. but for whatever reason, when rafe was there to back you up and even take a couple punches for the sake of it, a strange feeling came with it. like... pride?

maybe that was just a part of being a kook.

***

tags: @katie-avery @anonymous0writer @drew-starkey @thelocalpogue @ijustreallylovethem @jjmaebank @ceruleanjj @outrbank @rafecamerondeservesbetter @starkeymarkey @everydayimfangirling @maaybanks @dontjinx-it @rudys-pankow @decap-quadrant @jayjaymaebank @ilovejjmaybank @popcsheyward @heimdoodle @yelyahryan @trashmouthpogues @hopelesswritingxd @beckester @teenwaywardasgardian @vindictive-hearts @write-from-the-heart @majoroof

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hoshiwhxre · 4 years

Text

I’ll Look After You. (kjk)

Kim Junkyu : I’ll Look After You

description : junkyu becomes worried for you when he witnesses one of your dad’s angry outbursts and offers you a place to stay for a while at his - soon you both recognise and give in to your fast developing feelings for each other and things quickly become...hot.

typ : smut / bit of fluff

pairing : softdom!junkyu x female!reader

rated : NSFW

warnings : praise!kink , slight size!kink , unprotected sex , smut smut smut smut

word count : 3.5k

"Y/N, would you get the door? I'm busy," your father's abrupt yell brought your fingers straight to your headphones, tearing them off with a sigh. You rose to your feet and with a rushed stumble padded down the stairs towards your front door. Upon a second knock, you twisted the key to tug the heavy plastic open - revealing a tall young man stood patiently before you.

"Junkyu?" you blinked, slight surprise in your tone.

He laughed, rubbing his neck with a shy grin.

"Sorry to be annoying, but I left my phone here earlier."

"Oh? Come on in, I'll see if I can find it," you offered him a polite smile as you stepped to the side, allowing him through, "wait here, do you remember where you left it?"

"The living room," Junkyu pushed his hands into his pockets, his eyes flickering down to hover momentarily over your material shorts. Mouth dry, he swallowed, watching you move away with a nod, leaving him to stand alone in the small hallway. For a few minutes he gazed around at the picture cladded walls, dragging his gaze over your smiling face from a baby up until now. His lips twitched, one particular picture of your friends huddled together catching his attention. He could practically hear the screaming laughter, remembering how you'd pushed each other into the pool, how you'd warmed up around a fire pit, how you'd all cuddled together long into the night. It was the first and only time you two had been so intimate, just the two of you, sharing a blanket and dozing beside each other while your friends spoke softly between themselves. Out of the group, you'd never been that close - there were so many of you, after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by the angry yell of an older man's voice, forcing Junkyu's body to jump in shock. Head shooting up, he stared at the slightly ajar living room door, flinching with every frustrated grunt of what could only be your father. You emerged a few moments later looking drained and weary, but holding out Junkyu's phone in your hand.

"Sorry about that," you said quietly.

Brow furrowing, Junkyu shook his head.

"It's fine---"

"I'm so fucking sick of this," again, your father's shout made Junkyu's limbs tense, and his teeth sank anxiously into his lower lip.

"What's happened? Is it because I'm here?" Junkyu asked, carefully.

"No, no," you sighed, "he's just like that. Nothing new."

You spoke quietly, as if desperately trying not to be heard, and it left Junkyu with a worried, messy feeling.

"It doesn't bother you?" he murmured.

Glancing up, you met his eyes, hovering over his soft gaze for a few seconds before forcing a small smile.

"You get used to it," you paused, "I'll see you tomorrow? At Mia's?"

Junkyu's head inclined slightly, his response dithering as his mind twisted with nerves. He didn't like the idea of you being on your own like this.

"Will you be okay?" his voice was low, "he doesn't...hurt you...does me?"

"Junkyu, please, it's nothing," you insisted, weakly.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," he spoke sharply, "tell me, y/n, he doesn't does he?"

Taking a deep breath, you allowed yourself to internalise his concerned features, his taller figure standing protectively close. You didn't realise he cared so much.

"Not any more," you said softly.

Junkyu's muscles twitched, his fingers tapping impatiently against his thighs.

"Where's your mum?"

"Away with my brother."

"I'm not letting you stay here alone, y/n."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing---"

"If he hurts you, and I didn't do anything to stop it, I couldn't live with myself. Look, I'll call Mia---"

You suddenly snatched up his wrist, holding it close to prevent him from reaching towards his back pocket.

"No," you said quickly, "she'll tell her parents and make it into something it's not - this just happens every now and then, he gets frustrated, he's coming down from a high..." breaking off, you avoided his eyes.

"Drugs?" he choked, "you can't seriously think I'm letting you stay here."

"Letting me?" your eyebrow cocked, "you're not letting me do anything, I don't belong to you."

You attempted to release his wrist, but instead his fingers curled through yours, holding onto them tightly.

"If you won't tell Mia, or the others, then stay at mine. Even if it's just for a few nights until he calms down, it's better than you having to deal with this atmosphere."

Your cheeks went warm, heart stammering in shocked response to his kindness. The way he gazed at you so intently made your stomach twist with butterflies, completely overwhelmed by his insistence to keep you safe.

"Junkyu..."

"Please," tone softening, he squeezed your hand, "if not for yourself, then for me - to put my mind at ease."

Chewing your lip, you could feel yourself drawing closer to him, suddenly wanting nothing else but his arms around you. You didn't think before you were slowly nodding your head, fingertips sinking into the back of his hand. He was right - it would be better than living in that atmosphere. Used to it or not, it was getting to you more and more every day.

"Let me just go get some things," you whispered.

----

�� Junkyu threw his set of keys into a pot positioned to the right of his front door, nodding towards the living room and then gesturing to the house.

"It's just me and you for a while," he said, "my parents are in America."

Looking around, you took in the attractive decor, getting used to the new surroundings. After 2 years of knowing each other, you'd never once been to his home.

"It's nice," you breathed, "it's got this feel about it, kind of..."

"Calming?" Junkyu finished for you.

Your eyes met, his grin sending shivers down your spine.

"Calming," you repeated with a murmur, "like you."

He laughed, approaching the living room and falling down into the heavily pillowed sofa. Following suit, you lowered down beside him, bowing your head in sudden silence.

"Thank you," you said quietly, "it's nice to be out of there."

Junkyu gazed at you, before scooching close to lightly nudge your arm. Even sat down, his figure was taller than yours, and it allowed for you to feel comforted in his presence.

"Why didn't you tell any of us?" he asked, gently, "we care about you."

With a quiet, sad laugh, your head turned towards him.

"What am I supposed to say? The stress I struggle with every day is worsened by my dad's rollercoaster emotions? He smokes weed so often his paranoia sends him into fits of anger, screaming accusations fueled by absolutely insane thought patterns? I'm constantly on edge, unsure how he'll behave today - the outbursts make me feel anxious, and they make me depressed but there's nothing I can do to..." you broke off, your voice gradually increasing in pitch until it finally cracked with a breathless gasp.

As soon as the tears filled your eyes, your throat closing far enough to make your words strained and quiet, Junkyu wrapped an arm around your shaking shoulders. He tugged you close, guiding your head against your chest before meeting his hands behind your back. Murmuring gentle soothings down your ear, he rose one hand to begin running his fingers comfortingly through your hair. For a few moments they remained in that embrace, your tears soaking his t-shirt, your grasp tight around the white material, before Junkyu began to slowly lower both of you down against the sofa. He tugged his legs up, resting your body between them so he could wind his arms further around your waist. While your cheek pressed into the crook of his neck, he ran his fingers in delicate circles along the small of your back, and within moments your breath was steadying and limbs were relaxing into him.

"Stay here for a bit," Junkyu breathed, "it's okay."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "for this. It's so embarrassing I---"

"Don't be stupid," he nuzzled his cheek into your soft hair, "we're friends, aren't we?"

Slowly, you head tilted up, gazing up into his dark eyes.

"We've never been that close," you murmured, aware of his firm hands resting against your lower back, confused by the butterflies it was sending through your body.

With a gentle smile, Junkyu reached up to brush the remininsce of tears from your cheeks. He bowed his head slightly, your lips hovering close - and he swallowed.

"We can be close now," he purred, the sensation of your warm breath tickling his skin and keeping his body tensed. For a few moments you held each other's gaze, only centimetres away from deepening the intimate moment. A flustered rush overcame his body, and Junkyu swallowed, "do you want to do something? To take your mind off it?"

Your palms against his chest, you nodded, allowing both yourself and him to rise. As he slipped from the sofa, you felt a wave of emptiness rush through your veins.

"You like dancing, right? I know you and Doyoung spend a lot of time together," Junkyu spoke, turning on the TV screen, "want to play Just Dance? I bet I'll beat you."

You laughed, drawing a rose brow from the other boy.

"What?" he faked indignance, "you don't believe me?"

"Whatever you say," you smiled, eyes suddenly sparkling, "but I have a little brother who's obsessed with this game, I'm telling you right now I've had more practice than you."

Throwing a remote to you, Junkyu motioned for you to step out onto the floor.

"It's cute how confident you are," he drawled, "but I'm better than you."

His cockiness was sending waves of weakness through your body, and you could feel your heart stammering each time your eyes met.

"Game on."

For the next 20 minutes your laughter echoed loud throughout the house, squeals and shouts merging with teasing remarks. Your breath was heavy and sweat dripped from your foreheads, snatching at each other's arms to tug them to match the positions of the on-screen dancers.

"I need a drink," you panted, pushing hair from your face. With a grin, Junkyu nodded, breathlessly leading you into his kitchen. He filled up two glasses of water, passing one into your smaller hand and gulping down his own drink.

"I'm winning," you teased, laughing, "I told you."

"We've still got round 2 yet," Junkyu winked, "don't get too cocky."

You reached out, plucking at his shirt lightly.

"Let's get back to it, then."

As if entranced by you, Junkyu's head lowered, allowing you to guide him slowly back to the living room. The song that flooded the room next was a warm up, slow-paced and sensual, allowing Junkyu's eyes to study your careful body. Copying the moves, your hands clasped, pulling close to press your chests together. For a few seconds you remained still, heart pumping, your gaze on his lips, his eyes on your neck - before coming to the embarrassed realisation that the song had finished. The next dances were a lot faster, drawing more laughter and playful giggles from your throats. It wasn't long before you both collapsed weakly down onto the sofa, again panting breathlessly. You'd fallen close to each other, pressed together as you caught your breath before turning your heads with a smile. Breath heavy on the other's face, your noses were so close to touching.

"Okay, I admit," Junkyu murmured, "you're better than me."

You gazed up at him through long lashes, releasing a tired giggle at your success.

"I told you."

Within seconds, Junkyu's expression had grown serious, stopping your fast beating heart in an instant. You could feel his fingers twitch against yours, his eyes flickering to your lips.

"I know one thing I can do better than you," he whispered.

And suddenly his hand was shooting up, taking your jawline in his palm with a thumb pressed to your cheek and fingers curling around the back of your neck. In one smooth movement he pressed his lips to yours, lids fluttering shut to taste the delicate cherry dawning your tongue. Without hesitation you pushed into the kiss with just as much passion, your tongue slipping between his lips as your fingers curled around his arm. As the seconds passed, both yours and his hands began to wander, Junkyu pushing you back to the leather so his firm palms could guide your thighs against his waist. Your body was growing hot, his tall, broad figure dominating you so easily you gave in to him without resistance. Slowly, his lips dropped to press open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin of your neck, every now and then sinking his teeth in deep to leave dark marks in his place. A soft whimper fluttered from your mouth, fingers entwining through his hair as you felt a hot pool begin to grow at you core.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbled, his mouth reaching the low hem of your t-shirt. As his hands strayed to the thin material, he glanced up, asking silent permission to take it off. Upon your nod, your desperate "y-yes", he slowly tugged the t-shirt over your head, throwing it to the floor. With surprising ease he unclipped your bra next, allowing it to join your top before attaching his lips once again to your skin. His tongue swirled in a light circle against your breast, teeth leaving another dark purple mark. Head rolling back, you watched through hooded eyes as one hand squeezed your left breast, while his mouth remained concentrated on the right. Once he finally sat up, his tongue sliding across his lip as he gazed down at you lay helpless beneath him, he smiled - a small, slight smile that erupted your chest in excited butterflies. Chest heaving, you watched him pull of his shirt, dropping it to the floor before lowering himself to mould his lips once more against yours. While you kissed, his large hands strayed to your shorts, fingers curling beneath the hem to guide them slowly down your legs. You kicked them off, carefully, before your back arched with a high moan in response to his middle finger dragging lightly against your soaked panties.

"You're already so wet," he murmured in your ear, "for me?"

Your nod made his eyes roll up in pleasure, beginning to tease your clit through the lace in a desperate attempt to drawn more moans from your lips. Becoming slightly impatient, he dragged your panties past your hips to your ankles - again urging you to kick them to the floor. You obliged immediately, desperate for him to go further. Reaching up to cup his cheeks in your palms, you willed him to go on - just as you felt him unzip his jeans, fumbling with the denim. Lips pressing together, he reached down to guide his tip to your entrance. Slowly, steadily, he pushed a few inches in, stilling for a moment to allow you to adjust to his size. You hummed against his mouth, a soft gasp creating smooth vibrations, not expecting him to be that hard or that thick. Pushing all the way in, causing you to catch your breath as you felt his cock seem to press against your guts, Junkyu stilled once again. As you pressed your lips harder against his, your palms against the back of his neck, he drove his hips into you with one slow, hard movement. He continued with that pace, enjoying the taste of your tongue against his, his hips offering you deep, steady thrusts. Your bodies pushed and pulled against the leather, already so sensitive your lips were growing weaker and messier against each other.

"You're doing so well," Junkyu praised, softly.

His words made your body shiver with pleasure, nodding with a light whimper to your praise. Recognising your enjoyment to his words, he continued with low, gentle phrases of praise, "you're such a good girl", "you're taking it so well", "you're doing great, princess", "so pretty, seeing you so weak for me", "I'm so proud of you, angel".

Soon, his words, mixed with his deep thrusts, were making your core knot up completely. You were becoming desperate, your breath catching, and your nails sinking into his hair until he could feel you tighten around his cock.

"Are you going to cum for me?" he mumbled against your lips, "let me hear you say it, baby."

"I-I'm going to cum," you whimpered.

"Say my name," his dark eyes met yours, "say my name while I make you cum."

His soft demands were making you come undone, finding yourself putty in his hands. Your moans were loud, unable to stop your eyes from closing in ecstasy.

"Look at me," he breathed.

You obliged, and almost immediately your limbs tensed against him, your body shaking as you came undone - a rush of pleasure shooting through your veins. Collapsing back, breathless, you gazed into his satisfied smirk, before reaching up to begin weakly peppering light kisses against his jaw, trailing to his neck, to his ear. Your soft touch against his skin erupted him in goosebumps, swallowing as you began to push at his chest. He rose, back pressing against the sofa, and you rose one leg over his - straddling him delicately. His calm eyes watched as you reached down, sliding your fingers along his hard shaft before beginning to lower yourself - slowly - onto it. Lips twitching, he rested his hands firmly against your waist, guiding you as your teeth sank into your lip with a light gasp.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Allowing his head to roll back, Junkyu's throat released low grunts as you began to slide up and down his cock carefully. You were still so wet, the warmth almost seemed to make him bigger inside of you.

"Slowly," he urged, "take it easy, I don't want you to be sore...not just yet."

His words made you whimper, your arms winding around his neck to feather kisses against his ear. Teeth sinking into his lobe, you bounced a little faster, drawing deep moans from his mouth just as he had done to you.

It wasn't long against before you could feel his cock twitch slightly inside of you, his grip on your waist tightening with every ride. His head turned, pushing his lips to yours to muffle his groans, before his limbs began to abruptly tense. Thighs flexing beneath you, fingers sinking into your skin, his teeth suddenly sank into your lip - drawing enough blood for it to drip once onto his tongue.

He grunted, one last time, before stilling your body against his chest as he felt himself collapsing undone. Breathless, you fell forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck, while his warm hands began to slide along your back. His pants were heavy against you, quietening himself by lightly kissing shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" Junkyu mumbled.

Upon your nod, he guided you from his lap and tugged his underpants up to his hips before rising from the sofa. He glanced down at you, smiling slightly at the sight of you lying contently on his sofa - lids closed, cheeks pink.

Sensing he'd left for the kitchen, you forced yourself up, plucking his t-shirt from the floor and tugging it's large frame over your body. You slipped your panties on and rose to your feet, entire body tingling from the minutes before. Quietly, you began to pad in Junkyu's direction, sneaking up on his taller figure to wind your arms around his waist while he cooked.

"Eggs?" he breathed, tapping at the pan of boiling noodles. He felt you nod against his back, laughing at your clingy embrace, "come here, sit here..."

Turning, he bent down to haul your body up onto the side next to him, pressing his lips to your cheek before addressing his concentration back on the food.

"Was it okay?" Junkyu asked, softly.

Tilting your head, you surpressed a smile.

"More than," you murmured.

"Really?" Junkyu grinned, eyes sparkling with a renewed cockiness, "how so?"

"I felt taken care of,” you admitted, blushing at the mere memory.

Glancing up, Junkyu carefully studied your features.

"I've always thought you were beautiful," he breathed, resting his palms either side of you, slightly leaning in, "especially that night after the pool."

"I think about that every now and then," you reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, "cuddled up with such a handsome guy, I was surprised you couldn't hear my heart."

"I can hear it now," Junkyu teased, pulling off to stir the pan, "you think I'm handsome?"

His voice was careful, as if he didn't quite believe you.

"Of course I do," you murmured.

#junkyu smut #treasure smut #junkyu #treasure imagine #kim junkyu smut #treasure #treasure junkyu #yg treasure box imagines

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kookicat · 3 years

Text

To Bid Goodbye to the Past - Part Two

The magnitude of what he's done doesn't hit him until he's stepping into the first class cabin for the plane journey home. He pauses, ignoring the annoyed huff from the passenger behind him, and takes a second to just breathe, because he's pretty sure if he doesn't, he's going to throw up. His legs feel like they don't want to hold him and he braces one hand against the seat beside him while he gets the reaction under control, feeling the shake in his hands.

The gun is warm from his body, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to wrap his fingers around the grip, to bring it up-

"Move it, pal," the jerk behind him says, and nudges Eliot hard with his laptop bag.

It takes an act of will for Eliot not to turn around and rearrange the man's teeth. "Shut the fuck up," he rasps instead, hearing just how on edge he is in his own voice.

He moves forwards, dropping into his seat, pressing his head back against the cushion, counting breaths until his heart doesn't feel like it's going to explode right out of his chest. Until he can control the shake in his hands. The seat is in its own enclosure, hiding him from the other passengers, and he's damn grateful for that.

The bastard is dead, he thinks. He can't hurt us again. He can't hurt me again. It hits him again, the relief, and it's so profound he doesn't know if he wants to laugh or sob under the weight of it. In the end, he does neither, just scrubs a hand over his face and pinches his eyes closed while he tucks all of it away in a mental box, to deal with later, when he's somewhere secure.

Soft footsteps make him open his eyes. A red headed flight attendant is making her way down the aisle towards him.

"Nervous?" she says, "Don't worry, sir. Flying is really very safe now. Can I get you a drink?"

He blinks at her, because out of all the things that are likely to kill him, a plane crash is damn low on that list. "Whiskey, on the rocks," he says and forces a smile that feels sickly. The travel and the stress and just the sheer physical effect of seeing Damien Moreau again are starting to bite. His hands ache, a phantom throb that has more to do with his history with guns than any real physical ailment. A naggy headache spreads across his temples, a warning that he needs to sleep and eat. "Do you have any crackers? Something bland?" he asks, because his stomach is a bit unsettled.

"Sure thing, hon," she says with a smile and heads off.

He's exhausted but he's too wired to even think about sleeping. The cabin is quiet, just three passengers, and he silently thanks Hardison's genius, because if he'd been in economy, he's pretty sure he'd have lost it by now. The peaceful atmosphere is soothing and he runs through his breathing exercises again, nodding thanks as the flight attendant returns with his drink and a package of peanut butter crackers.

"There you go, hun," she says and pats him on the arm.

He almost jumps at the unexpected contact, and feels the shake start in his fingers again. "Thank you," he manages to say, and swallows a generous mouthful of the liquor. It burns on the way down, and he relishes the feeling, because it's something he can use to ground himself.

"Press the button there if you need anything," she says and leaves him.

He leans back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the engines as they taxi. Despite his best intentions, he's asleep before the big plane makes it into the air.

----

He knows he's not alone as soon as he steps into his apartment. It's quiet, but the place has a disturbed feel that sets his nerves on edge for a long second before he sniffs and catches the scent of tangerine shampoo and gummy frogs. It's the scent of home to him, lets him relax enough to unclench his fingers from the duffle bag, before the implications hit and he tenses up all over again, just for a very different reason. He scrubs a hand over his face and heads towards the flicker of the TV, because he's never hidden from confrontation and he's not about to start now.

They're sprawled on the big leather couch, covered in a beautiful cashmere throw gifted to him by Sophie. Just the sight makes fondness bloom in his chest, brings a contented smile to his lips, even if he is worried about how they're going to react to what he did. It's too late to change it, and he wouldn't, even if he had the option, because for the first time in a long time, he can't feel the eyes on the back of his neck, doesn't feel hunted, and that's worth more than he can put into words. He doesn't think they'll hate him, but he's not sure and if they do, he knows it'll break something inside of him that he'll never be able to fix.

The credits roll on the TV- it's one of the Star Wars movies, though he's too damn tired to remember which one- and he picks up the remote quietly, switching the TV off.

Parker shifts, eyes opening slowly. "You're back," she says, "Did you kill him?"

He thinks about lying, denying it, but he's always been truthful with her- apart from the single moment when he let the pain of his past show and begged her for mercy, and that was as much for her benefit as his.

"Yes," he says and meets her eyes squarely, straightening his shoulders in unconscious reflex.

A beat passes and he feels his heart rate pick up, feels the prickle as sweat breaks out along the curve of his lower back, because she's studying him like he's a new and particularly perplexing safe.

"Good," Hardison says, voice heavy with sleep, but clear. "I hope that motherfucker rots in hell."

"What he said," Parker says, and shifts over, so there's space on the couch for Eliot.

He sits, because the relief in their simple and straightforward acceptance has gone straight to his knees and it's a choice between sitting and falling down. There's a hundred things he wants to say, defending his actions, explaining them, but there's also a part of him that never wants to think or speak about Damien Moreau ever again and he surrenders to that part, shuddering as the tension leaves him.

"He was a very bad man," Parker says, and flips the blanket back over them. "Even with him in jail, we weren't safe, were we?"

"No," Eliot says, tipping his head back against the couch, so he's looking at the ceiling. "It was just a matter of time, before he found a way out and came looking for revenge." He shudders again, for a very different reason, and licks his lips. "And believe me, it wouldn't have been pretty."

"I'm glad, man," Hardison says. "But-" he pauses, glancing at Eliot, seeing just how much this one cost him. "But I'm sorry it had to be you."

"I'm not," Eliot says, letting his eyes close. "It was always going to be me. Just a matter of when."

"I'm disappointed," Parker says, and Eliot peels an eye open to look at her, feeling the sleepy contentment vanish at her serious tone.

"Why, mama?" Hardison asks, before Eliot can.

"I didn't get to taze him," she says, and sets them all off laughing.

#leverage #eliot spencer #fanfic #fanfiction #Parker #alec hardison

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callumsmitchells · 4 years

Text

i can’t get over the way (you love me like you do) (ao3)

it’s finally here! the fake dating au has been birthed! enjoy the first chapter x

Music crackles out from the radio as raindrops race one another down the kitchen windows, creating patterns of connected lines against the glass. There's a faint aroma of spice lingering in the air, and Callum's stomach rumbles as he leans against the kitchen counter top. He's been living in Walford for just shy of six months, and this is the first time his newfound friendship group will see the inside of his house for more than just a few moments. It's a stressful thought, though he's somehow relaxed, thankfully completely in his element cooking food. He's been somewhat excited for this night since it was first brought up in conversation, what seems like months ago now.

Callum's stood behind the bar, confined to one area, in the corner of the Queen Victoria. He's been working there for months now, ever since he moved to Walford to be closer to his childhood family friends. He found a house, going for cheap for the area, a complete bargain, and without really even thinking, he was soon moving in, despite only knowing a few people in the area. Of course, it was a terrifying prospect initially, but he's been in worse situations throughout his life, so he was quite okay with that. The fear of the initial decision was nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

Jay slams his pint glass down onto the pint mat he's placed on the bar, the corners of it fraying and bent, curling upwards. "Anyway when are we getting to taste your food then mate?" He asks, and there’s a slight slur to his words. It's been a long day, a long week really, and all three of them are letting their hair down in their local pub - Jay, Lola and Ben.

The latter winces, the noise of the pint glass brash, close to his ear.

Callum laughs awkwardly, his hands gripping on tightly to the edge of the bar, his body pulling away from them. His knuckles are white. "I'm barely moved in yet!" He explains. "I spend most of my time working here, so my house is still a mess. When I've got everything in place, you can all come around. We can make a dinner party of it."

Lola quickly agrees to it, and starts to talk about what she could wear for such an occasion, even though it's only a meal around at a friend's house.

Ben smirks over his lager, eyes wide and light, but stays silent, watching Callum as he walks off to do his job, taking drinks orders off of people none of them have ever seen before.

There's a tapping knock at the front door, and Callum's heart sinks below his stomach. It's too early for them to come. He looks at the clock, bolted onto the wall in the centre of the kitchen, and notices that it's only seven in the early evening, when he knows he previously arranged for them to arrive around eight. The table isn't even set yet, and that's suddenly a huge cause of anxiety for Callum. He pads over to the door, hoping that when he opens it he isn't bombarded with his friends because as much as he does love spending time with them, he really can't deal with them showing up before he's even remotely prepared. He exhales a shaky breath with closed eyes, before he pushes the handle down, pulling the door open. When he opens his eyes, Ben is smiling back at him, holding up a bottle of red wine in anticipation.

"I knew you'd be stressing, so I thought I'd come over to help you." He announces, walking through the door and past Callum. "Now, I can't cook - but I can lay a table, and calm you down."

Callum smiles, breathing a sigh of relief as he closes the door behind Ben. He's grateful for him, the closest of his new friendship group, and the only one who knows about the anxiety that plagues him. "Thank you." Callum says, sincerely. "Everything for the table is in that cupboard over there, I just need to sort the sauce out."

"Smells good, whatever it is." Ben grins, placing the wine bottle down on the table with a dull thud, before walking over to the cupboard.

Still stirring the sauce, Callum looks back at Ben, watching him carrying four plates in one hand, glass bottles in the other. "It's Mexican barbeque sauce. Thought we could just have something basic."

Ben raises his eyebrows. "Basic for us is smiley faces and chicken dippers." He laughs. "This is proper restaurant material."

Anxiety courses through Callum. "Is it too much?" He asks, desperation in his voice.

"Absolutely not!" Ben shakes his head. "We will eat anything. Plus, Lola's still getting ready, so she's treating this as a big thing. Trust me. It will be perfect."

Callum smiles, a feeling floating around his chest that he just can’t explain. It’s like a mix of anxiousness, happiness and gratefulness all at once, an overwhelming swirl of emotions spreading through him. “You look good, by the way.” Callum points out, looking at Ben as he sets the table, placing knives and forks against the woodwork with a metallic clanging. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a white button up shirt. Callum’s definitely seen it before, it’s a common outfit for Ben to wear if he’s going out, but it’s somewhat calming to see that he dresses up for a meal at a friends house - though knowing Lola, she more than likely didn't let him leave the house until he was dressed nicely.

“Thanks.” Ben grins, and Callum’s almost certain he can see a blush creeping its way onto, and across, Ben’s cheeks. “You too.” He says, looking up at Callum through hooded eyes and fluttering lashes.

Callum flushes, and looks back at the food, quickly attempting to hide any visible blushing from Ben. Time ticks by, music still remaining on the radio crackling through old, slow songs which add to the relaxation of the evening. Ben opens a bottle of wine, and pours himself and Callum a glass each, both of them waiting in anticipation of Jay and Lola arriving.

It's not long waiting, wine glasses only a quarter of the way empty, when there's a tap at the door and Callum puts his glass down on the kitchen counter, inwardly cringing at himself for not using a coaster. He stretches out his fingers and he can hear them crack, right before he opens the door and his friends come bounding their way in, Lola pressing a kiss to Callum's cheek, chatting away. "We've got no idea where Ben's got to, he said he would come over to ours but didn't show up."

And then she sees him, sitting at the table, red wine in hand, left leg crossing over his right loosely. "Oh, you're here already!" She grins. "Glad to see you can get yourself dressed."

"Yes, thank you mother." Ben teases. "I don't need any help to choose what I look good in - I look good in anything."

Jay rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table. "As modest as ever, I see."

"You know me Jay, ever the modest one." Ben grins, taking a sip of his wine, allowing himself to relax as they all sit at the dining table. Callum looks at ease too, thankfully. Ben knows that by being there prior to Jay and Lola announcing themselves, he allowed Callum to relax.

They're all sitting around the dining table; Callum with Ben to his right, Lola on the opposite side to him, Jay next to her. It's nice, relaxing. They're on their third bottle of wine, the empty two sitting on the side of the sink. The main course is long gone, plates having been scraped empty, compliments entirely to the chef, which caused Callum to shyly blush, and thank them all. They're all laughing and telling stories, tipsy and happy. Callum's hand is reaching across and resting against the top of Ben's chair, and if he stretches his fingers out just the tiniest amount, they would be threading through his hair. Ben knocks his head back, laughing at a story Jay has just been telling, and Callum chuckles along too, though he was barely following the story, more focusing on Ben's side profile. He quickly jerks his hand away, and if anyone was watching him, they didn't make it obvious. He stands up, towering over the three of them.

"I made some brownies." He explains. "Thought we could have some of those for dessert."

If there's one thing that makes everyone happy, it's chocolate.

The rest of the evening runs smoothly, all of them finishing a fourth bottle of wine, words slurring and only crumbs of broken up brownies remaining in sight. Lola looks around the house, and admires how it's all open plan, something unique to a house in Walford. There's an exposed brick wall, with a television hooked onto it. The house itself is small, but for just Callum, it seems perfect, and he's really made it homely in the months he's been living there.

"You've done a great job here though, to say you've been working a full time job since you moved here." She comments.

"I only really finished it all the other day." Callum explains. "But the house was in good condition when I bought it so it wasn't a big job or anything - I just had to get a few bits to turn it into a home."

They're about to leave, Jay helping Lola put her coat on but struggling, probably something to do with the amount of alcohol they've both consumed. "It looks better than our place anyway." Jay jokingly comments, and Ben's eyes nearly pop out of his head in shock, trying desperately not to laugh.

Lola throws her hand out, slapping it against Jay's chest in horror, and looks over at Ben, who is still sitting at the dinner table. "Are you coming?" She asks.

"No." Ben shakes his head. "I'll help Callum tidy up, it'll be easier if we both do it."

Lola nods. "I'll see you tomorrow then." She says, yawning, before she looks up at the clock that is hooked onto the wall, noticing that it's now past the midnight hour, somehow. "Or, later on today."

Callum smiles, and presses a kiss to her cheek, and pulls Jay in for a hug, before he waves them away, watching as they leave his house. Ben's now standing at the sink, letting warm water run over plates, cleaning them.

"You don't have to do that." Callum says, walking over to him. "You being here early was enough."

"I want to." Ben smiles up to Callum, handing him a clean, wet plate. "I wash and you dry?"

Callum huffs out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief, but he takes the plate anyway, and holds up a clean tea towel as he dries it. Every so often, their fingertips touch as they pass cutlery between them, but it just feels normal to share something so domesticated between each other, even if the clock is ticking away into the early hours of the morning.

"Do you fancy a cup of tea?" Callum asks softly when they reach their last object to wash and dry. His eyes feel heavy, but he's not willing to let sleep overtake him, not willing to let Ben walk away and have this moment lost in the abyss of foreverness.

"Sounds perfect." Ben smiles softly, even though his whole body is screaming out for him to sleep.

Callum flicks the switch on the kettle, and a blue light appears. Ben sits on the sofa, sinking into the material, feeling his aching bones relax with the relief of sitting down somewhere comfortable. Callum follows him moments later, and sits down next to him, handing a mug to Ben.

"I didn't realise how late it was, sorry." Callum winces, taking a sip of his tea.

Ben shakes his head, a smile on his face. "It's fine. Neither of us have to be anywhere tomorrow."

"It's still late." Callum said. "Early? I don't even know, I'm that tired."

Ben chuckles out a laugh, thoughts swirling around in his brain. "Do you want me to go?" He asks, lightness spreading through his voice.

"No!" Callum grins, but makes an attempt at hiding his smile behind his mug, holding it up to his face. "You can stay here tonight if you want? Kip on the sofa - it'll save you walking home alone."

"Yeah?" Ben asks, suddenly shy, for some stupid reason. "Yeah, I will do." He finishes his tea, and places it down on the coffee table in front of him.

Callum follows, though there's the tiniest bit of his drink still remaining in the bottom of the mug, swirling around as he puts it down. "I'll get you a blanket." He says, standing up. "Don't want you freezing to death in the middle of the night." His bones ache, and there's a knot that's suddenly appeared in his neck, but he fights through the tiredness and the aching, and grabs the fluffy blanket that usually perches at the edge of his own bed, and carries it back to Ben.

"Here you go." He announces, expecting to see Ben sitting up on the sofa, anticipating Calllum coming back into view - but he's laying down, his head pushing against a cushion, arm underneath it, sleeping. A faint whistle of a snore escapes Ben's mouth and Callum can't help but smile. He looks so at peace, even though it must be uncomfortable, sleeping in his clothes. Callum places in the blanket around Ben, and grabs the two mugs that they have previously been drinking from, and places them in the skin, ready to be cleaned tomorrow. He doesn't want to risk running the water through the taps and potentially waking Ben up. Callum turns, and attempts to walk back past Ben, straight into his bedroom, but something stops him, as though a magnetic force is pulling him to Ben, and before he can even help himself, he's crouching down over him, and pressing a gentle - but quick - kiss to his hairline, before he manages to drag himself away, finally retiring to his bedroom.

#ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell #callum highway #ben mitchell x callum highway #myfic

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part One)

Previous Chapter Here

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Warnings: Some mild language

Notes: This is the first of a 3-part chapter. It moves the story along quite a bit (finally) and I am about 80% complete on the second and third parts, too. Shouldn’t be too long ‘til they get posted, fingers crossed. Thanks again for stopping by. Let me know if you have any comments or advice; all greatly appreciated, good and bad!

Chapter Fifteen: Part One

“So, what you’re saying is if I don’t put out a statement, they’re going to roll this all over me? And there is nothing we can do to stop this?” Chris yelled into his phone, his hand coming down hard on the white marble counter in front of him. “What do I even pay you for?!”

“Listen to me, will you?!” Matt was on the end of the line attempting to diffuse his client’s growing anger from 3,000 miles away. “There isn’t anything in this that harms you, OK? I’ve read the copy and honestly, you come across as a really sweet guy. She paints you out to be a lovely person, someone who was helping her come to terms with the end of her marriage.”

Matt was getting no response from the other end of the phone but could picture the look on Chris’ face as it he was standing in front of him. “I know it’s not ideal. It’s not great timing but it could be so much worse. You’re not being painted as a homewrecker. We can absolutely deal with this when it happens, put out a couple of cute pictures of you and your nephews or something and all will be forgotten.”

Chris sighed in exasperation. Or was it desperation? He didn’t even know. “...who the fuck ever writes this trash? None of it is remotely true.”

“I know, I know, we’ve pushed back on a lot of the smaller details, dates and things like that, but I honestly think if we put out this statement it’ll clear up a lot of the ambiguity they’ve left in theirs. They’re just trying to get some clicks, that’s all.”

“It’s not ambiguous, Matt, it’s downright bullshit. I mean, the whole thing about the hotel is not even close to being true. I booked it ‘cos I was feeling unwell and needed a break. She just turned up. I didn’t invite her.” He was losing his cool again and becoming more upset. “And what have they said about my mom?”

“Ummm...” Matt scanned the pages scattered over his desk. He quickly located the offending quotes and just as quickly sugar-coated it to avoid one of his biggest stars passing out from stress. “Just that they’d met and got along. I actually don’t think that’s a problem for us. If anything, it shows you are close to your family and they visit you on set from time to time.”

It had been a long morning and Chris was already feeling like he wad done for the day. No, the entire week. He needed a beer. He needed beers plural and he needed to get wasted for a night and forget everything arising around him again. Better yet, he needed Sarah. She’d know what to say and when she’d finished saying it, she’d help his mind feel quieter again.

Oh fuck. Sarah.

She’ll think he’s a dickhead when she reads this. It almost goes against everything he’d explained to her and his family so far.

“When is it coming out?” Chris asked after a few moments had passed.

“They’re pushing for late August and I actually think that is out best chance. September is a busy time for magazines across the board and everyone will be talking about the big ones, Vogue and Vanity Fair etcetera. There’s no competition.” Matt was talking in a calmer tone mirroring Chris’ own change of pace. “We can slip out a quiet rebuttal and end it before it’s even began.”

“Yeh, yeh, OK. I understand.” Chris took a deep breath wearily and leaned his whole body onto the counter. He ran his free hand down his face and rested it on the beard underneath his chin, tugging slightly on the hairs in a bid to feel something else that would hopefully bring him back into the room.

“You need to trust me, Chris. That’s what you pay me for.” Matt reassured him. They exchanged as polite a goodbye as possible before hanging up. Matt threw himself back onto his desk chair, swinging it around to take in the view of a bustling downtown Los Angeles outside his office window. stuff like this was child’s play for a pro like him but Chris wasn’t a typical client. He was normal for one thing, whatever “normal” meant these days. He’d been representing him for close to nine years, one of his longest relationships now he thought about it, and one that meant a great deal to him.

Professionally, the work helped pay for his mother’s retirement home and his own holiday apartment in Aspen, Colorado, but it ran deeper than that. Chris was also a very good friend. If Chris had stuck to low-budget Indie dramas like he originally planned, Matt wouldn’t have minded even though he had worked with and had experience of dealing with mega-studios like Marvel and stars who actively sought to cover themselves in PR glory any chance they got. That sort of thing was strangely easier to handle but Chris remained quiet and adamant about sticking to his guns when it came to his private life and Matt held a very high respect for that. So, when stuff like this came along, well, Matt knew exactly what to do and was all too happy to hold a light up to the hypocrisy of the Hollywood press machine.

Thousands of miles away in a small kitchen in Boston, Chris remained holding on to the edge of the countertop as he brought his breathing back under control. Lisa, had ventured in and out at times only to fall back when she felt Chris’ bristling, nervous energy. It was rare that he got angry at Matt so something was clearly going on to cause him to lose his cool but she knew now wasn’t the right time to ask him.

“Shall I make us some lunch, sweetheart?” she finally plucked up the courage to take a few steps into her kitchen. She ran her hand lightly across his broad shoulders causing Chris to look up and take stock of his surroundings again.

“Yeh, that’d be nice, thanks.” He pulled a stool out and sat down. “Sorry if you could hear me shouting. It’s just some stuff with work but it’s fine now.” it was sweet that he was trying to make her feel better as though he himself had done something wrong.

“I didn’t hear you so don’t worry. Glad it’s fine now, though. Ham and cheese OK?” she asked, a broad smile now painted across her face that only grew wider when he nodded back at her. “Also, Scott and Shanna were going to cook some dinner later on tonight so we could pop over if you like? Save us cooking here again.”

He would very much like to head over to his sister’s apartment. That way lied harmony and he could relax in calmer surroundings and spend time with the people he loved the most. This press nonsense could wait another day. If it was going to happen regardless of his intervention, why even bother stressing about it in the first place?

It wasn’t much of a surprise to find Shanna’s kitchen a total mess when they arrived later that afternoon. Despite the comforting smell of fried onions and garlic that greeted them from the hallway, the physical view of her kitchen provided an altogether different experience. A stack of unwashed pans and remnants of chopped tomatoes and leeks spread out across the counter surface and what Scott had actually meant when he said he was also going to be helping with the cooking was that he would stir the bolognese for half an hour and check the garlic bread hadn’t burned. Other than that, Shanna appeared to have built some kind of living art installation.

The four were seated around the table, a second bottle of wine down, and gabbing about sport and nothing in particular. Chris’ quietness had not gone completely unnoticed with Scott and his mother sharing a few glances as the evening wore on.

“Is Sarah staying at work for a while, then?” asked Lisa, picking at the final slice of garlic bread after her children had decimated the rest of it.

“Yeh, I think so. It’s been a bit up and down lately after the crash and I know she’s keen to muck in as much as she can now before she goes away.” offered Shanna.

Chris’s ears perked up. “Away? What do you mean?”

“Oh crap.” Shanna banged her hand on her forehead. “Um, OK, this isn’t common knowledge and I didn’t tell you guys this but she’s possibly heading back to college to train to become a doctor.”

“Really?” Scott dropped his fork on his plate causing a loud clang that reverberated around the kitchen. “Well, good for her. She’d be an ace doctor. She looks great in scrubs and I know for a fact she handles drunk people exceptionally well.”

Shanna rolled her eyes at Scott. “She actually has the exam in New York next week and if she passes that, who knows? I can’t really tell if she’s excited or not but her parents don’t know so please don’t mention anything to them...” Shanna looked across the table at her mother whose eyes widened in response to the insinuation.

“If she gets back into college, will she stay here to train or move or what?” asked Chris trying his hardest to keep a rising level of confusion at this new information to a minimum.

Shanna merely shrugged non-committedly and he felt his frustration with his sister boil close to the surface. “I can’t see her moving or if she does then it’d be more of a commute. Like, a couple of days there and here or whatever.”

“She likes living in Boston, doesn’t she? And I imagine it would be harder for her folks to visit if she lived in New York full time.” Scott offered, some logic that Chris was grateful for. “Jocelyn hates busy cities. She would hate New York for sure.”

“Lincoln is a teach hospital, right?” Chris asked, his tone more urgent than he’d intended. “I mean, she could train here? There’d be no problem with that. I’m sure they wouldn’t wanna lose her.”

“Well, selfishly I hope she doesn’t move ‘cos who’s gonna look after your sorry ass?” Scott needled his sister with his elbow and was rewarded with a slap on his shoulder. “Or if she does move full time it means we have a party base in the city again!”

“Oh yeh I’m sure she would love you rocking up at her home at all hours of the goddamn morning.” Lisa remarked. “When is her exam, honey?”

“Thursday. She’s staying at a hotel in town a few days before to swot up on some notes Greg lent her. He rocked up with a frickin’ suitcase the other night. Just books and books of the stuff.”

“What’s he getting out of this?” Chris asked. It was not the first time talk of Greg had ruined his day and now on top of that he was starting to feel distrusting of the interest he appeared to show in her future. He especially didn’t like the knowing look he caught his family give to each other either. “Oh c’mon. He’s not her type, really. She’s said as much herself.”

“Yehhh but he’s super cute and have you seen his car?” Scott asked, pouring another glass of wine for himself. “He reminds me of, fuck, what’s that actor’s name again? The guy from Sons of Anarchy but with darker hair...”

Chris threw him a puzzled look before dismissing his comments with a wave of his hand. “Sarah’s not like that. She’s not into trivial stuff.”

“No, I know, but he’s also stable. I mean, he’s ambitious to a fault, sure, but he knows exactly what he wants and where he’s going.” Scott reasoned. “That could be good for her. I think we can all agree that this stuff with Charlotte left its mark and maybe she’s wanting to try something different? Find a bit of stability? Y’know, settle down a bit or whatever.”

“Since when did you become an expert?” Shanna spoke up. Chris was glad somebody else said it but was less glad when she laughed a second later. She nodded, evidently in agreement with his rationale.

The room fell quiet again as they finished what was left of their dinner. Chris was feeling the dread borne from this morning’s conversations now manifesting itself in the very bottom of his stomach. He regretted coming now. He should have stayed at home and gotten drunk by himself. It would have felt a whole lot nicer than what he was experiencing now.

He swirled what was left of his wine around his glass before downing it and reaching for the bottle. Just as he poured, the front door went and in and walked Sarah surprisingly fresh-faced and smiling upon catching the clan sat peacefully around the kitchen table.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, happy to see them all. She walked over to the hob to smell what was left in the pan before catching sight of them staring at her. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Nothing honey. Ignore them. How was your day?” Lisa started, breaking the silence.

“The usual. I did, however, manage to separate a grown man from a Tonka truck he had glued to his hand.”

“The fuck?” Scott quizzed almost choking on his food and turning around in his chair to face her. “I swear, you have the best job I have ever heard of.”

“Hmm true story. He was making some kind of art display and held on to it for too long. Took us an hour and a tonne of olive oil from the cafeteria to free him.”

Sarah glanced between Scott and his mother laughing before clocking Chris, stony-faced and not quite making eye-contact. She left her eyes on him a little longer than she was usually comfortable with in these settings but he didn’t budge. Shanna eventually grabbed her attention by handing her a bowl of pasta that she gratefully accepted with a “yummy” and grabbed a seat at the table.

Lisa left a little over an hour later but Chris and Scott remained loitering around the kitchen and the lounge. Scott was helping to wash up alongside Sarah when she excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she emerged, she nearly ran full-on into Chris.

“Sorry.” he said, shifting to the side so she could move by him.

“It’s OK.” she moved further out of the way so he could walk in behind her. “Are you OK? You’ve barely said a word all evening.”

He glanced back to her, trying to play down his obvious discomfort. “Yeh, fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him leaving her in the hallway at a loss as to the reason for his agitation. She could hear Shanna and Scott making a mess of what was left of the washing up, the TV volume a little louder now in anticipation for Drag Race, and she retreated into her bedroom to fold away some of her clothes that Shanna had left on her bed from their washing that day.

Chris lingered in the hallway wanting to avoid the loud shrieking now coming from the kitchen before heading towards Sarah’s bedroom. She hadn’t noticed he was there so he allowed himself to watch her, smiling to himself when he heard her hum a tune under her breath. It sounded like ‘Beat It’ only slower. He never figured her as a Michael Jackson fan. Truth be told, he didn’t know all that much about her musical tastes other than making fun of the fact that she cried at a Pixies concert some years earlier.

He viewed the couple of photographs adorning the wall, one of a family gathering, one of her Shanna graduating, before resting on the Steve McCurry print she’d bought at the exhibition. That felt like a lifetime ago now. So much had happened since but he still clearly remembered the shit he had given her at the time. All she was trying to do, he now realised, was get some answers for herself. She wanted to put to bed all of the questions she had had since she was young, questions that might offer answers for who she was as a person. Isn’t that what everyone wants?

He liked Jocelyn and Noah, they all did, they were great people. but she wasn’t a part of them physically. There was something growing somewhere in the back of her mind and as she grew older and wiser, as time moved on, she increasingly felt the differences between them. She had once tried explaining it to him, that it was like a tree and an acorn; no matter what beautiful and wonderful branches and leaves grow from it, it always comes from something small at the very beginning. The acorn directs everything that follows. He couldn’t properly understand it at the time - why would he, he had had an easy life thus far - but as he watched her shuffled around in the closet, humming to herself quietly and in her own little world, he understood that what she longed for, that all anyone ever longer for, was to feel like she belonged somewhere.

He could hear Scott and Shanna joking around in the kitchen, no cares in the world, and knew he had it lucky. Despite the crap this morning still ruminating in the back of his mind, a slight unease at what might find its way into the press over the next few weeks, it was small-fry compared to the real, honest problems normal people experience in their lives. You never know what goes on behind closed doors. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe she just wanted some stability after all, and that realisation was stirring something uncomfortable that he couldn’t name inside him.

“Hey, you OK?” she asked and he realised she had been staring at him for god knows how long. All sorts of thoughts flew through his mind in quick succession but he didn’t immediately know how to respond to such an apparently straight-forward question.

“Yeh,” he responded, clocking how unsure he sounded. “I mean, I’m good. You?”

“Yeh, I’m OK.” She smiled at him and he instantly felt better, waves of stress just ebbing away. He wanted to reach out to her and give her a hug but he knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable with his family so close by and liable to walk in at any moment so he settled instead for smiling warmly back at her and handing over some folded towels from off her bed.

A couple of moments dragged by before she decided to break the awkward silence. “I know I said I would make it up to you but work’s been busier than usual and I’ve had to cover shifts for a couple of guys as well. Michael’s ill so Audrey’s been playing nurse at home.”

He leaned back on the side of her chest of drawers and nodded slowly. He was biting the inside of his cheek and she recognised his face from when he’d shown irritation towards Shanna. He was clearly contemplating something.

“Well, you can make it up to me now if you want?” He offered, arms folded, posing an interesting predicament. He noticed the confusion cross her face and chuckled to himself. “No, not that, not with... I just meant you could do me a favour now. If you wanted to.”

Sarah looked perplexed but Chris didn’t move. He didn’t immediately offer any answer to his question so she didn’t know what he was aiming for. She left the closet and re-entered her bedroom, taking up a stance a couple of feet in front of him. Even leaning back against her cabinet, he remained a good couple of inches taller than her.

“Shanna said something earlier and we promised not to bring it up with you ‘cos apparently it’s supposed to be some big secret,” he started, noting the hint of verbal aggression and thinking better of it, “but are you leaving Boston?”

“What?” She asked, stunned. She never anticipated that this was where he was going.

“She said you’re heading back to the college and that you might consider starting up your doctoral training again, and...I don’t know.” He was losing confidence with every passing word. “It just sounded like it was a done deal is all.”

She oscillated between feeling annoyed that Shanna had revealed her plan to re-take her MD exam, and concern that they all assumed she was suddenly wanting to leave town. As if it would be that easy to do so.

“No, I’m not leaving Boston. My God.” she rubbed her hand across her forehead in frustration. “I am taking the exam, yes, but I haven’t figured anything else out beyond that. Honest.”

He didn’t seem altogether convinced of her response but time was passing by and the noise had died down from the kitchen so it looked like it he would just have to accept whatever she was giving him. He had hundreds of questions, many far away from being appropriate, but the sincere look on her face did some of the work for him.

“It was only an idea. I tried it before and maybe, if it works out again, it could be something different for me to focus on.” she continued. Scott has been right about one thing at least.

“If you pass, you could always train at Lincoln, though, right?” he asked quietly. He sounded like a child asking his parents if they were still going to be friends once they divorced and he hated himself for it.

She shrugged, not having immediate answers that might make him relax a little more. He was clearly struggled with something. “I guess. I mean, I honestly have not thought about it beyond the exam. I have a lot of studying to do as well so I might not even pass it.”

“Yeh, she said Greg gave you some magazines or something.”

“Oh, good, so you’ve got the whole story, then.” Her tone validated the sarcasm behind her words. “Look, this is all so far into the future now and really, who the fuck knows what’s going to happen? But I promise that I will tell you guys everything once I know whatever the fuck it is I am thinking about.”

Selfishly, he wasn’t thinking of his family, or her family, or even her colleagues for that matter. He just wanted to know where she was going to be one month from now. Or, hell, even a year, and whether or not she would be open to him visiting her. Visiting her new apartment in Brooklyn. Or Greenwich. He could imagine her in Greenwich. It was greener and she could go for a run in the park every morning and they could grab a coffee on their way back home. He could walk her to work and wave her off and then spend all day lounging around her apartment reading the newspapers, waiting for her to come home again. One thing he had gotten used to was enjoying his quiet time a lot more when she was around. He wasn’t quite ready to give that up.

“Guys?” shouted Scott from the lounge. “It’s starting!”

“What’s starting?” he asked Sarah.

“Drag Race, I think.” she responded biting her lower lip and knowing exactly how he was going to feel about that.

“Oh fucking hell.” He threw his head back and laughed before resting his eyes back on her. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

#chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #chris fic #fan fiction #Clear The Area #Sarah Bernette #chris evans x original female character

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zankivich · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 10

*y/n’s point of view*

The VMAs are important. Important because it’s the launching pad for the rest of awards season. Important because, despite the lack of legitimacy of the show anymore, the general public still tuned in. It was a valuable opportunity to get your artist where they wanted to go. And the VMAs was Normani’s night to make it or break it, which meant it was your night to make it or break it. Everyone was tuning in to see what would happen. Which meant it was a stressful time in your life, one that needed care and precision. So you thought that maybe...maybe there was a way you could take the edge off a little bit.

It’s a Saturday, the week before the show, and Shawn and you had somehow managed to not leave the bed all day. Not even just for sex, though there had been that too, but really just to cuddle and enjoy each other’s company. And so in the time when your head is on his chest and his fingers are drawing shapes in the small of your back, you figure now is as good a time as any.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” you mumble interrupting whatever movie you were watching at the time.

He hummed in agreement. “‘Course.”

“Do you wanna go to the VMAs together?”

“Who, me?”

He leaned up in bed enough to nearly dislodge you from his chest while he went to reach for the remote to pause your movie. Rude.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just figured, we’d both be going anyway. Might as well save the planet a little gas.”

He peered down at you with gentle eyes that had you feeling much softer than you should in that moment. Damn him.

“Yea, you just asked me to be your date to a televised award show. Where everyone would see, but no big deal.”

“Well...it’s not like people don’t know right?” You mumbled not making eye contact.

Shawn reached for your chin, tugging your face close so that your eye met again.

“Who, sweetheart? Tiana knows. Brian knows. But we spend most of our time in your apartment or mine. When we do go out, we’re not exactly going where the industry folks go now are we? I don’t mind. There’s nothing I’d love more than to be with you in the public eye, but I--I gotta admit this is a little surprising coming from you.”

“How come?” You asked stubbornly.

“Well...maybe because you seem to think about my dad more than I do?” He admitted softly. “And maybe because--and I’m just guessing here--I think you might be a bit afraid to be seen with me in public.”

That locks you up.

Shawn had a way of knowing you that didn’t quite seem fair. All of your life you had very specific, intentional relationships with people. They knew what you wanted them to know. Nothing more, nothing less. It had never worked that way with him. He seemed to find meaning in every silence that you shared. And that was good! It was good that he could see you and that he cared enough to want to see you. But, it was also incredibly scary. Because it meant you no longer got to hide.

“I...I--I’m not afraid to be seen with you in public, Shawn.”

He smiled sheepishly and tapped your cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. I--I get it. I understand. You’re important, y/n. Your career is everything to you. I know what it would like to be paired with me.”

It was like reverse psychology or something. Every time he voiced the very things that you had thought before, they sounded ridiculous. What kind of a grown woman wouldn’t be caught in public with her significant other. What kind of bullshit was that? Goddammit.

“This is stupid! We can go to the other fucking awards in the same car, Shawn. It’s no big deal. Why are you making it something bigger than it is?”

Shawn could tell that you were getting annoyed and fidgety so he reached for your hands and placed them against his chest. It seemed to calm you when you could feel his heartbeat beneath your palms. So sappy.

“I’m not. If you want me to be your date, I’m happy to. You just tell me what you need and I’ll do it. Okay?”

He’s so soft and so kind that the anger just leaves you immediately. It’s incredible. And annoying.

You poke at his cheek. “You annoy me when you’re kind.”

“I annoy you?” He chuckled. “How come?”

“Cause I can’t be angry at you with your dumb doe eyes and this chin and your big ass head. I’m gonna be stressed out of my ass that night. And I--I want to be able to find you when I need you. And I’m gonna need you.” You admitted.

His eyes somehow get even softer. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you even closer than before.

“Then I’ll be there.” He said. “It’s that simple.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

She’s beautiful even when she’s scary. Sometimes because she’s scary. That night is the night where the two come together at their strongest points. They’ve got her in a dress that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a black, skin-tight, velvet number and her braids are in again. Jesus. But she’s also been screaming into her phone for the past twenty minutes, and she’s definitely threatened to take some really important body parts at least three times now. He grips his dick in his slacks a little bit just in sympathy alone.

It was just him and Tiana waiting with her, so when she got off the phone and started rubbing at her temples, someone had to make a move. At this point it was second nature to him. To support her. To be there for her. To ease her mind a little bit. So, when he marches over and cups her face in his hands, holds her close, and kisses her, it doesn’t even register that it’s the quietest the room has been all day. He just waits to feel her shoulders unlock, and waits for that sigh that lets her mouth open enough for his tongue to slip inside. It’s when her body is soft and pliant in his hands, that he knows she’ll be okay. And that’s all that matters to him.

“Okay?” He whispered after pulling away, his thumb still easing at the tension in her neck.

She nodded softly. “O--Okay.”

“Good. We ready to go?” He smiled.

There was a moment when Tiana and y/n make eye contact, and it must be a sort of mind reading of best friends, because he certainly had no idea what either of them was talking about. Or not talking about for that matter. But that didn’t stop Tiana from laughing and it didn’t stop y/n from throwing her hands up and swatting at her best friend.

“Leave me alone, Ti!” She muttered marching for the door.

What a night it was sure to be.

They drove to the awards together. Tiana was in the front seat managing all of the artists that were meant to be on the carpet. Y/n was in the back beside him making sure that every performance was set and ready to go. And unfortunately there he was, also on the phone, making sure that his father’s latest PR stunt went off without a hitch. It meant there was no time to kiss her, or whisper in her ear how pretty she looked in that dress, or all the things he planned to do when he got her out of it later. What he did get? Was to hold her hand. And honestly having her squeeze around his fingers every time she was anxious or stressed or pissed? Was the best part of the ride.

The car pulled to a final stop in front of the venue, and Tiana was already out of the car. Y/n finally stopped to put her phone away and turned to him. For a moment, it was just the two of them. Nothing else. No one else.

“So uh...I’ll go with Normani and my people and you’ll go with your people but we’ll sit together. Both Normani and Sarah will be in the front row anyway so it shouldn’t be weird that we’re near each other. We--We obviously can’t…”

He reached for her palm, threading their fingers together so that she might relax for just a moment.

“Hey. You don’t need to explain to me okay? I understand. I’ll be on my best behavior. I know I might not look like it, but I can be professional.” He smiled playfully. “What I do backstage might just be a different story.”

It gets her to smile and to breathe, and thus it’s worth it immediately. She leans her forehead against his and sighs.

“I just wanna be with you. I don’t wanna do anything else.” She mumbled.

“Same.”

“I hate that it matters. That us being together would upset people.”

“I know, honey.” He sighed and tucked a loose braid behind her ear. “If is makes you feel any better, I think it would give my dad a heart attack. It might actually put him in the grave.”

“Hmmm...good to know. Guess we should get going then huh?”

“Hey, hey. Not quite. Gotta get my goodbye kiss first, right?”

The taste of her smile is enough to get him through the red carpet.

Sarah Leone and Ty Summers have a staged run in on the red carpet. Someone had decided that them arriving separately would only heighten excitement. So, here he was following a teenager around while she got a crack at the dream he’d never know. It was really like his own personal hell on earth.

They meet up and don’t kiss. But they do hug and they do whisper in each other’s ear. It’s word for word from the write up sitting in a binder on his office desk. They’re the most talked about couple there that night, and they’re not even confirmed yet. Jesus.

He’s on the cusp of gagging when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

y/n: try to smile tonight.I know it hurts more than you let on, but you’ll get through it. And I’ll be there too.

He paused in the middle of the carpet, no longer following the herd of people trying to keep his father’s new artist relevant. He read it again. And then again. And then one more time. He could imagine that she was somewhere running around like a chicken with its head cut off. He knew that there had to be a million things on her mind that night, and surely he shouldn’t be at the top of the list. That was natural and understandable. Yet, somehow she found a way to make him feel like he mattered. That the bullshit in front of him was indeed that, even if the public was eating it up, even if it was making everyone around him more money by the second. It did hurt. But he never had to say it, or even allude to it, because she already knew. Of course she already knew. And he loved that about her. He loved her...

Shawn: Thank you. That means more than you could know.

Shawn: I need to see you. When can I see you?

Y/n: I’m backstage already. Not until showtime. Are you okay?

Shawn: Yes. Just miss you. I’ll see you soon.

He was a bit of an impulsive person. It usually worked out for him in the end. When he saw something that he wanted, he never stopped to let himself get in his own head. Instead, he went after it, whatever it was. It was usually the best for song writing too. When he felt something, he felt it so much. And with her? Everything felt like the most important thing. Especially the realization that he was in love with her. Especially that. So once he knew, he wanted her to know; it only seemed right.

And so he floated through the rest of the carpet. Nothing mattered when she was on his mind. He might as well have been back at her apartment playing guitar while she cooked some incredible thing that he couldn’t even dream of creating. It was his happy place and there he stayed until he got to see her again.

***

*Y/n’s point of view*

“You’re fucking stunning. You are incredible. You are an icon. You are Black and beautiful and bold. Let them know okay? And I’ll be out there repping regardless!”

Normani nodded, eyes wet but not willing to let any tears fall that might fuck up her makeup. This was her moment more than it was yours. You’d done all the work in the world to let this moment matter for her. And now she just had to go out there and do it. There was nothing else you could do. You hugged her and let Tiana lead you from the back and towards the crowd. The lights are hot and there’s cameras everywhere and everyone looks like they’re uncomfortable in whatever outfits they’re in. You stop to kiss Lady Gaga on the cheek, shake hands with one of the Migos, and give little Nas X a kiss cause that was your baby.

At the row where your seat was located, he was sitting there. His suit that night was a deep green and it looked so good on him that you couldn't wait to get him out of it. His thighs were spread wide with no one sitting around him and he was jittering his knees up and down. He went to run his fingers through his hair causing him to finally look up and see you, and he was out of his seat before you could even blink.

“Hi.” He murmured reaching for you without thought.

His eyes widened and he went to pull away as he realized how public it was, but you couldn’t handle another second of being away from him, so you reached to pull him closer in the hopes that a huge might not be too much.

“Hi.” You leaned up on your heels to whisper in his ear. “Missed you.”

“Yea. Same. Look I uh--I need to tell you something.”

“Are y’all gone stand here all night blocking the way, or can I sit down sometime soon?” Tiana interrupted.

You rolled your eyes at her but moved to let her slip into her seat. Shawn and you quickly took your seats, his arm coming to rest naturally behind your chair as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“I’ve got something I need to say.”

You turned to him.

“Well, okay. What is it? Is everything alright?”

“Yea. Yea, everything’s fine I just… I think that I--”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, COMMERCIAL BREAK IS OVER IN TEN PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO YOUR SEATS!”

“Oh shit, babe Normani is up next!” You squealed turning to face the stage again.

“Y/n I have to--”

“After the performance okay? I promise!”

She fucking KILLS. She locks in and she leaves it all out on the floor. Her early 2000 era pop/r&b vibe connects with the crowd immediately. And it’s your job to make sure as much. You notice the way they engage. The clapping. The dancing. The way the cameras follow her, but also the way that they follow the crowd. It’s everything you had expected. It’s flawless.

And at the end of the performance the banner goes up on the screen announcing her solo album dropping that night. It’s the only album drop of the evening, you’d made sure of that as well. It’s perfect. Tiana is already beside you watching engagement. Normani shoots to the top of the twitter trend list. Before the camera even moves to capture the next award, Normani is the most talked about thing of the VMAs. It was all worth it. Just like that. The win for best R&B is simply the icing on top.

You hug Tiana and let her wipe at the tears that had begun to rim at your eyes, so that it didn’t fuck up your makeup. Each of you know that it means something different. She wasn’t just performing for herself that night. She was performing for the world to “get it” in a way that Black women often have to fight for. Normani and her music and her hue and her femininity and her sexuality. All of it would always require a justification that her counterparts, even her former bandmates, would never be asked to give. This was the reason you had fought to sign her after all. Who better to navigate the racist bullshit of the world and the industry, then another black woman? Only you could have given her that.

When you turn back to Shawn his arms are already open for you to step into. He wraps himself around you and you, him. Maybe another tear finds its way into the fabric of his suit, but who’s to say?

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered in your ear squeezing at your hips.

“It was her. Did you see her?! That was all her.”

He shook his head. “It was you too. You’re just amazing.”

“Thank you. Shit. Wow. Oh my god, what was it you were gonna say to me earlier?”

“It can wait. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

He reached and gripped your chin softly before pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was so soft you nearly died.

“Positive. Go celebrate.”

***

The afterparty was in full swing when he tugged you towards the dance floor. Daniel Cesar was performing and Shawn’s hands were on your hips. You were high on life and on the feeling of his touch and Blackness. Always Blackness. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head on his chest, cheek soaking up the heat of his body. It was less public then the award show and more intimate, so you didn’t mind when his fingers dipped down to your ass a little bit, don’t mind when his nose skims your neck and his fingers dig life into you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked twirling you gently.

“I’m feeling happy. Like the happiest I’ve ever felt I think? Is that weird?”

He smiled and ran his hands soothingly up and down your back.

“I don’t think so. I love that you’re happy. I’m happy too.”

“You are?” You asked leaning off of his chest to peer up at him. “That whole pr thing didn’t get you down?”

“It was starting to and then this really beautiful woman texted me that I should calm the hell down. And so I did.” He grinned.

“Beautiful? I heard stunning was more like it.” You laughed

“You’re right. Stunning is much more accurate.”

His eyes followed you intensely with every move that you made. Intense wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was fondness. Like looking at you was enough to make him happy. How wild was that?

“I wanna tell you something.” He murmured. “I’ve been meaning to tell you all night actually.”

“Yea? What’s that?”

He sent your body around for another spin and then pulled you close so that your chests touched.

“I love you.” He whispered in your ear.

Your heels froze pulling your body to a grinding halt. He peered down at you inquisitively again, hands still holding you close.

“Is that okay? Can I...Can I say that? Shit should I not have said that? I shouldn’t have said that.”

He pulled his hands from around you and swept nervously through his curls. His eyes were still kind even when they were frantic. For a second you couldn’t believe that this was the same person you’d met that night all those months ago. You couldn’t believe he, of all people, was standing here telling you that he loves you. But he was. And he did. And somehow, somehow you did too.

“Y/n, I--I’m so sorry. I’ve just never done this before and I thought that--that I should tell you how I feel about you. That you deserve to know that you know? You don’t have to say it back at all I just...I wanted you to know. Cause I felt it, and that means something ya know?” He rambled.

“I love you too.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“Well don’t sound so fucking shocked about it. What’s not to love?”

He burst out into a grin and reached for you again, lifting your toes just barely off of the ground as he swept you around the room again. His lips found yours and he smiled even there. How dare he be so sweet.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day you know that?” He sighed.

You kissed gently at his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“That makes me so happy.I love you.”

“I love you!”

You dance for the rest of the night and you kiss and you make each other laugh and you get way too drunk at the open bar. But it’s good. You’re not thinking about the next thing on your plate. He’s not thinking about his job, or his dad. It’s just the two of you against the world. And you were really starting to like those odds.

***

“What did they fucking super glue you into this thing?!”

After three minutes of hot and heavy kissing, you’d finally begun to notice that Shawn was not making as quick work of your dress as he usually did. He flipped you over onto his bed and begun to work on your zipper in hopes of sometime that night actually having sex with you.

“I believe in you, sweetheart. You can get it.” You encouraged.

It was in the middle of Shawn fingers trying to undo said dress that you spotted the book on his bedside table. You didn’t think anything of it at first, just let your eyes skim the spine of the book in interest. When it clicked, it clicked, and your heart sort of stopped just as he accidently ripped your givenchy dress.

“Holy shit I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new dress. Like tomorrow. First thing, I promise!”

Your mind; however, was focused on other things.

“Are you...Are you reading White Fragility?” You mumbled.

“Yea. I did some digging on white people for black live matters? They have like a book club or something, and this one was at the top of the list along with The New Jim Crow by uh Michelle Alexander I think her name was?”

You rolled over onto your back to see your curly hair doe-eyed boyfriend who had somehow found the time to start reading about white supremacy behind your back.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, you thought you would just mention white people for black lives matter, and we would, what? Continue with the night? I would let you cum in me or something?”

Shawn shrugged. “Well...I don’t necessarily need to cum inside you, though it’s kind of my favorite way to end the night. But...Yes? No? I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for.”

“You’re learning.” You mumbled in confusion. “W--Why?”

He leaned up so that his body was no longer poised over yours, hands dipping awkwardly into his pockets.

“Because it matters to you. So, it matters to me. Also I’m learning that it’s supposed to matter to everyone. White people just suck”

You followed him unconsciously body leaning up off the bed to reach for him. Your hands skim his thighs and settle around his waist. You’re at a loss for words, and that is completely and utterly new. The softness in his eyes tells you that he’s nervous, that he’s so much more concerned with making you happy than you even thought imaginable.

He cups your cheek gently peering down at you from above.

“Is that okay? Did I--did I fuck it up somehow?” He whispered.

You smiled. You beamed. You practically cried.

“No. Not at all. You did good.” You assured him.

He reached down gently to taste the smile on your lips. Your broken zipper left the thin straps of your dress falling off your shoulders as he led you gently back against the sheets. It’s a lot long of just kissing. Of just touching. Of just loving. It’s perhaps the first time in your life where you don’t feel the need to give so much, because he’s right there to take care of you already. You’re not alone anymore. He wouldn’t dream of having you be alone.

“Wanna take care of you.” He hummed against your throat, lips gentle and soft.

You sighed softly, thighs bracketing his hips as he pushed down searchingly against your heat.

“Please.” You begged. “Take care of me.”

“Always.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

She invited him to the studio. Something about working late, and if he wanted to “maybe spend some time together” he was welcome to come. But even he wasn’t that naive. She’s inviting him to the studio where Khalid is recording, and it’s definitely going to blow his mind. But, he packs up from work and nearly bolts his way to her. It’s a super famous studio in the heart of the city. Everyone from Gaga to Elton John to Prince had recorded there at some point. It’s a beautiful place of beautiful, rich history. He’d been there once before with his dad, but never had he gotten the chance to sit on an actual session before. When she meets him outside so that security doesn’t turn him away, he’s perhaps a little too excited if her eyes are anything to go off.

“Hi!” He exclaimed, wrapping her up in his arms immediately.

She chuckled. “Someone is happy to see me. Or is the studio you’re happy to see?”

He rolled his eyes and tugged playfully at one of her curls which were down for once in a blue moon.

“It’s you. Always you...I’m just happy to see you in the studio.” He grinned.

“Yea, yea, yea. Just be cool white boy, we do things a little differently then Mendes industries.”

She surely wasn’t fucking joking.

The room is completely dark except for blue lights and candles. It’s not full to the brim of people, like some other sessions he’d sat it on in the past. In fact it seems like it’s just the producer and Khalid. When she pulls him into the room there’s a thin veil of weed smoke that gets thicker where Khalid and the producer were passing a blunt back and forth. When y/n walks into the room the affection and the respect is clear. He wraps his arms around her waist from where he’s sitting in the chair and smiles up at her and she pats lovingly at his hair. They look more like siblings then they do client and manager. It’s unlike anything he’d ever seen at his dad’s company.

“Stop smoking and come say hi to Shawn, big head.” She smirked hugging him back.

Needless to say he felt a bit out of his element, until he met him of course.

Khalid was kind of like a teddy bear. A big, soft, shy teddy bear. His voice was just as soothing when he spoke as when he sang and he didn’t seem to care about how you viewed him at all. He’d never met anyone that was just so effortlessly cool, immediately.

“You must be something special. She never brings nobody to the studio.” Khalid smirked at y/n who immediately flicked him upside the head.

“And I never will again if you don’t behave. I thought you wanted to get the track finished today? The only thing finished around here is that blunt and my patience. Come on.”

He laughed and made a quick bowing motion with his hands towards her before making his way back into the booth. She lead him to the couch and the producer set him up to record the next verse. One second he’s just sitting there holding his girlfriend’s hand watching her do her job, and the next he’s immediately transfixed. Khalid sang with his eyes closed and you could just feel the way that he felt the music. Every note was this beautiful little soundwave and it drove him absolutely crazy to watch the perfection happen.

The verse ends and his heart just sort of deflates the second no more singing is happening. His fingers immediately began to tingle and his feet wouldn’t sit still. He was just aching to create.

“You like?” She hummed running her fingers through the curls at the back of his head.

He just sort of beamed at her softly and cuddled himself deeper against her side.

“So much. This is my favorite part of it all, ya know?” He sighed. “The making something out of nothing. I love it.”

“Yea? You wanna get in the booth?”

His eyebrows shot up on his forehead as he froze in front of her.

“What? Like in front of Khalid? No! Are you kidding?”

She snickered. “Shawn look at you blushing like a school girl!”

“It’s not funny, y/n. Stop.” He hissed.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” She giggled. “This is comical.”

“Stop it.” He whined. “I’m delicate.”

“You sure are, my love.”

Khalid comes back out again to listen to the playback. There’s a note in the second half of the verse that doesn’t fit right. The producer recommends that Khalid does some falsetto work. He squirms in his seat at the suggestion. It’s not that it’s the worst idea in the world. It’s just that it’s the worst idea in the world. His girlfriend watches him for a few more seconds before pressing a kiss to his cheek and standing up.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You try not to explode there, big guy.” She giggled.

*15 minutes later*

*y/n’s point of view*

You open the door and it is almost comical how much weed smoke pours out in front of you. It only takes one look toward the mixing console to see that your plan had worked ridiculously well. Your boyfriend was leaning with his long ass legs crossed over one another with a blunt in one hand and the other making wild gestures in the air as he spoke to Khalid and the producer, Mike, like some hippie professor in the classroom.

“I’m serious. The whole thing is a build right? You’ve got these beautiful ebbs and flows that are sitting in the soundwaves. If you look at the actual wave of the vocal and the instrumental you’ll see what I’m talking about.” He pauses to take another hit of the blunt and then points to the screen. “See. Do you see that? If you put a falsetto there? It ruins all of that magic you just spent two minutes creating. If you really want to follow this pattern that you already created, which is already beautiful, sing it down the octave. Jus trust me, bro.”

Bro. Your boyfriend had turned into a pot smoking vocal production expert bro in the time it took you to walk a block around the studio and pretend to pee. Who the fuck would’ve thought.

“Fuck it. Let’s see if the white boy’s right.” Khalid murmured already heading back for the booth.

You paused just inside the door and watched closely just to see what would happen. Before Mike hit playback, Khalid sang randomly a couple of times. He tried it on various notes to get a feel for what it might sound like. He lands on one and pauses to look towards Shawn.

“What about that one?”

Shawn nodded but looked up into the air like he was visualizing the notes or something.

“Try…”

And it happens. He sings is this effortless sort of way, but with the breath support of someone who knew what the hell they were doing. If you would have sat in a meeting, as you had hundreds of times, and he sang even that note, your spine would have straightened. It’s something immediate about him. It’s that thing you look for in every artist, and you’re lucky as hell if you ever find it. No wonder Manny wouldn’t let his work see the light of day. He’d be huge. Bigger than anything Mendes Industries had yet to accomplish. And Manny would have to live the rest of his life knowing that the best thing that ever happened to him, the best thing to ever come from him, had nothing to do with him at all. It was all Shawn.

Khalid stares at him. Mike stares at him. He takes another hit of the blunt and coughs his way through it, like he couldn’t sing his ass off. It’s rude for sure.

“Try now.” Shawn suggested.

Khalid looked around him to finally land his eyes on you. You’d never mentioned Shawn sang, or did anything beyond the scope of his job at his dad’s company. You knew that you didn’t need to. It was effortless for him. The pieces were all there, and they fit together seamlessly. When Shawn turns to look at you his cheeks get red, and he has the audacity to hide the blunt behind his back like you might not be able to see the smoke wafting up from behind him. But the light and the happiness in his eyes isn’t drug related in the slightest. He just loves to create music. And you kind of love to watch him do it.

You finally closed the door and walked delicately up to your boyfriend. You reached your arms around him until your fingers touched the blunt and you happily took it from him to set between your own lips.

“You heard the man.” You breathed on an exhale. “Try it now.”

*later that night*

You push him onto the bed face down in the hopes it’ll keep him quiet long enough for you to change. He was a chatty one when he was high, which knowing him you probably could have guessed. Less philosophical though, and more happy big ass puppy. By the time you got into bed he was already forcing himself into your space, head on your chest and arms around you. He liked to be held and he liked to hold. Physical touch was a big thing for him. So you gave it to him as much as you could.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your shirt. “I didn’t mean to intervene in the session. The producer was just...so wrong.”

You chuckled and squeezed at his shoulders.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you and Khalid hit it off. He’s young and still relatively untainted by the industry. I’d like to keep him that way if I could. It’s good for him to be around people without ulterior motives.”

“Okay.” He whispered. “It was also just so much fun.”

“Yea? You’re a very talented little thing aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about all that. I just know I love it. More than anything. Besides you of course. I love you a whole lot. The things you do to me, woman? Sheesh. It’s too much to handle.”

This made you laugh beyond belief. His eyes were closed and his lips frowned rumpled against your shirt. But he was just as chatty as could be.

“Is that so? And just what do I do to you?”

You expected vulgarity, something about your ass or your tits or the sounds that you made. Honestly that would have been more than fine. You loved the way he seemed to find endless sensuality in everything that you were. But the answer he offers instead is different.

“You just make me feel warm. All the time. When you hold me and when you kiss me and when you take my hand when we’re walking down the street. Everything about you is the sun. I can’t even tell that it’s cold outside cause when I’m with you it might as well be summer. I’ve never felt anything like it before. God, I love you.” He sighed. “Shit. We like just said that shit to each other. I said too much didn’t I? I shouldn’t have said all that. I’m sorry. I’m really baked right now.”

You bit your lip peering down at this man with the ability to make you feel everything, and with the heart and the emotional intelligence to share just how you did the same for him. And it felt really good. It felt like love and warmth and home. All wrapped up in a person. It was perfect.

“Don’t apologize. That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I love you. Go to sleep.” You whispered.

“Okay.”

He nuzzled deeper into your tummy and definitely pressed a kissed against your belly button the adorable bastard.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I love you too. You’re my sun, babe.”

You hold him extra tight that night.

****

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @justbeingoceana @loveylangdon @iloveshawnieboi @september-lace @valedictorian65 @dimestorebieber22 @MixerMani @lifeoftheparty74 @sinplisticshawn @kamahriii @disaster-rose @justbeingoceana

Arrangement Taglist:

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

Death

Chapter One of “Secrets, Secrets”

Pairing: OC!Pedro Pascal x OC

Warnings: Dark elements (in later chapters), explicit!

Summary: Katherine ‘Kate’ Grey starts to spiral into the supernatural world after the death of a friend and a new neighbor next door.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Okay this is purely because I got bored and wanted to try this out. I’m still working with it but this is a good start.

(First one is not my pic!)

The moon was shining over the city. Though it did not need the moon to light the way – the city lights took care of that – it still hung in the dark sky, bright and full.

It was still just as eerie and chilly. The wind whispering against skin, left over trash breezing by.

The man, Andy, was walking home, having to stay late to look after a patient. Knowing it was dangerous to walk alone on the streets, he debated on whether he should take the turn into the alleyway. It was one of the shortest ways to get to his apartment, but an uncomfortable feeling overcame him when he looked into the darkness that surrounded the area.

He didn’t have enough time to start walking the other way before he was pulled into the alley, mouth covered and slammed into the wall before he could comprehend what was happening. He only got one brief look at his attacker before he felt a deep pain in his neck. It was useless to struggle, the attacker was too strong.

The last thing Andy saw was a smirk, blood curling around it before darkness overtook him.

…

Kate gasped as she bolted up, clutching her chest. It was another restless night, and she could not remember what the dream (or dreams) were about. All’s she knew is that it terrified her. It seized her body with a tight coil, squeezing and squeezing until she felt like she couldn’t breathe… She didn’t realize her alarm was still blaring until her ears stopped ringing.

Turning the alarm off her phone, Kate groaned as she stretched. Reveling in the cracks of her bones and feeling more alert now, she checked her phones for any messages as she made her way to her bathroom.

Kate grimaced at the reflection she found staring back at her. The dark circles under her light green eyes were more prominent today and her long, strawberry-blondish hair were sticking out like a crow’s nest. Pale ivory skin, slender curves hugged beneath oversized pajamas, and looking just about half dead. Sighing at herself, she quickly settled and changed into a simple t-shirt and black sweatpants. Today was one of her days off and she had every intention of taking full advantage of this rare opportunity; staying inside and doing practically nothing all day was a good way to go.

It was raining anyway, which wasn’t a surprise at all. Summer in the city was hot, but Kate didn’t mind it. She’d rather have the heat along with the storms than the harsh cold of winter. Going into her kitchen to brew some coffee – or what little of it she had left – she grabbed her tv remote from the coffee table and turned on the tv in her small but cozy living room. Flipping through the channels, she smiled as she saw there was nothing but old reruns of shows she barely had the luxury to sit through and enjoy. It was a good start.

Wrapping herself in a small blanket on the couch, Kate sipped her coffee as her eyes stayed glued to the tv. Being a young receptionist at the nearest hospital in New York City had its perks, but there were also those cons. As a child she never really had the ambitions to become a nurse or a receptionist of any kind, but as she got older Kate started to find herself leaning towards a medical profession rather than a writers. It didn’t mean Kate ever stopped writing though, she kept all her pieces in a binder on her nightstand by her bed.

Sometimes they would be poetry, other times documentaries of sorts; what happened in the world that day, what she did, felt, etc. It made her feel better at the end of the day, made her forget the horrors she saw at the hospital, even it was for a little while.

But there were other moments where Kate found herself awake in the middle of the night, pencil in hand and nothing but scribbles and nonsense on the pages sitting in her lap. Kate would be covered in sweat, feeling as though she had just ran a marathon, hair sticking to every inch of her body it could reach, and her heart would be beating straight out of her chest. It worried her, and she would always debate on throwing them away after.

It was not always like this. Growing up, Katherine Elizabeth Grey was a very happy and free-spirited child who always received A’s and B’s in school and was quick to make friends. Her parents were always accepting and encouraging, even when she moved out from her small country – surrounded more by towering mountains than cornfields and cows – to the big city.

The nightmares and dreams, however, were a completely different story. When she was younger she wasn’t afraid of them, they were simply harmless in her naïve eyes. But when the most recurring one became more prominent in making her feel as if she had no control over her self and would leave her visibly frightened, Kate began to realize that maybe the dreams actually had a message to them that bled into her reality; not in the way that came from stress or memories, but in a way that it was completely new and a warning, or a summoning she wanted no parts of.

Never once did it ever change. It would start out in a pale, gray forest. It vaguely reminded her of home. The trees would be curled and curved, dead but somehow still thriving with life (Kate often felt that she was the one giving them life). Leaves would crunch silently under her feet on top the gravel that looked too smooth to her. No wind, no signs of life (life that Kate was familiar with at least), just nothing. There’d only be one trail through the forest, and she knew better than to tread off; everything behind her would turn to utter darkness, and she wasn’t ready to see what lurked in the shadows.

It would end with her standing in front of an arch way. Vines twirled and entwined along the loop of it, surrounding what remained of the gray light. There’s nothing but endless darkness inside.

Shuddering at the thoughts of it, Kate drew herself closer. A chill ran through the room, but she was quick to ignore it.

Her quiet and relaxing morning was suddenly shattered by a loud bang from next door. Kate frowned. Her neighbors had moved out of her apartment complex about a month ago. They were nice, but Kate loved having to deal with less people. She contemplated just tuning it out until there was another, a little louder than before.

With a huff and a string of grumbles, Kate decided to investigate. Besides, if she was to have new neighbors, she wanted to catch a good look at them. Opening her door, she peered to her left where all the commotion was coming from. There were a few small and big boxes laid out in front of the open door, not labeled but looking quite full and heavy. She was about to just step back inside her apartment when a man came out, eyes immediately finding hers.

He was quite handsome. Dark brown eyes that were immediately captivating – Kate was positive photos did not do them the justice they deserved – with wavy dark hair that ended just below his ears. His skin was a beautiful tan color, pale in some areas but still beautiful. He was wearing a black, long sleeve shirt that hugged his biceps – he wasn’t quite built but there were still muscles protruding – with simple blue jeans and plain sneakers. The smile he sent her made her knees weak and her heart flutter; she refused to let him see the effect he was having on her by just one smile.

“I apologize if I was being too loud,” he said.

His voice was rich and smooth as honey. She detected a small sign of an accent as he spoke but couldn’t place where it came from. There was also a hint of teasing in his apology, but Kate could tell it was all in good fun.

Kate cleared her throat once she realized he was still waiting for a response. “N-no you’re fine. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” she explained, suddenly shy now. “Sorry I bothered you!”

“You’re not a bother,” he called out, making her freeze mid turn. “So how do you like the city? I just moved out here for the first time so…”

Kate smiled politely at him, searching for words to say. She was too caught off guard.

“It’s not too bad,” she shrugged, leaning against the wall of her doorway. “I didn’t grow up here or anything, just moved here a few years ago actually.”

He hummed, crossing his arms. “Well maybe you could give me a tour one of these days? Show me the ropes.”

Kate felt her face flush. “Y-yeah maybe. I’m not sure I’m the best for tours but I’ll give it a shot.”

He grinned, showing perfect pearly teeth. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. I’m Damien by the way. Rhodes.”

Damien Rhodes. It sounded odd to Kate as she played it back in her head, but she grinned back nevertheless.

“Katherine, but I go by Kate.”

“Kate,” he tasted on his tongue. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.

Before she could say something – Kate wasn’t sure what she was going to say after her awestruck – the ringtone of her phone started to blare from her living room.

Damien chuckled at Kate’s face; it was a mixture of daze and shock. “Well I’ll let you get that. It was nice meeting you, Kate. And, if you don’t mind me saying, I look forward to many more.”

Kate huffed out a breath with a playful smile. “Sure. We’ll see. Nice meeting you too, Damien!”

She heard him chuckle as she bounced back into her apartment, shutting the door behind her. Kate shook her head as she tried to clear her thoughts, running to her phone before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” She gasped out.

“Hey, did you hear about Andy?”

It was one of her friends and coworkers, Abby. She was a quiet woman, dark blonde locks matched with a pair of wide hazel eyes. Kate had put in time to make her come out of her shell, and Abby had grown more comfortable and confident with herself since. She was also one of the first friends she made after moving.

“No, what happened?”

Andy was another coworker of theirs, a doctor beloved by many who knew of him. He wasn’t a bad man or anything, but Kate didn’t really pay much attention to him despite knowing of his attraction towards her. She had let him down as gently as she could and he surprisingly took it well, and they’ve been civil coworkers ever since. She had to stay late and help him with a patient – a child who was still recovering from a devasting car crash – last night, and he seemed like normal Andy to her, which she suspected is why her heart starting pounding in her chest; it felt like she was in another dream, and wondered if she would remember this moment come the next time she opened her eyes.

“He’s -.” Abby’s voice trembled.

“Abby, what happened?” Kate asked sternly.

“They found him. In an alley on the way to his apartment. Just left there, like… like he was just tossed away with the trash.”

Kate froze. Her chest tightened, short of oxygen as she tried to comprehend what she had just been told.

“No that’s not -.” Kate croaked, licking her dry lips. “I was with him last night. There’s just… do they know h-how?”

Abby let out a heavy sigh into the phone. “Well they’re kinda puzzled by it actually,” her voice was still trembling, but it seemed to calm the more she talked. “He was completely drained of blood, and there were no other signs of a struggle or any other injuries.”

Kate furrowed her brows in confusion, sitting down on the arm of her couch before her legs gave out from her.

“Drained of blood?” She said shockingly. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. Listen I gotta go. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Kate stared at the screen of her phone. Dead. And she was one of the last people to see him. A new set of panic washed over her, palms growing sweaty.

Kate knew in the back of her head that there was no logical reason behind her panic; she knew she didn’t kill him and she had an alibi that would pass with cooperating witnesses and tapes.

So why did she feel like as if she did? Should she have walked home with him? Make him stay an extra hour? Make sure he was prepared for attacks?

There was nothing Kate could have done, and yet the responsibility of his death was still crushing her with its weight.

…

Kate felt dead on her feet as she trudged behind Andy, babbling away about a movie he was interested in seeing in theaters; she barely paid attention to the title of it.

“Anyways,” Andy continued mindlessly. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kate mumbled. “Have a good night.”

“You too!” He called back as they went their separate ways.

Both Kate and Andy travelled either by cab, bus, or feet until they could afford a decent vehicle that would actually get them from point A to B; Kate especially had the worst of luck when it came to vehicles of all kinds.

Kate didn’t mind walking though, she had done plenty of hikes with her family before moving away. This night was a night like any other, streetlamps flickering as she walked by (upon remembering this Kate started to gape), barely a soul in sight on the streets.

It took only about twenty – thirty minutes for Kate to reach her apartment. She remembered getting out her keys to unlock the door and then…

…

Nothing. Kate didn’t even remember changing let alone managing to pass out in her bed. She closed her eyes tightly with a groan, feeling the developments of an unforgiving headache.

This was too much. What was supposed to be a relaxing day off turned into one of the worst days of her life, and more were to come.

Almost as if everything was working at clockwork, big, heavy knocks banged on her door, causing Kate to jump.

“C-coming.”

Kate cursed herself as she ran her fingers through her hair. She needed to calm down. Taking a shaky inhale, Kate opened the door to find two police officers.

“Katherine Grey?” The male asked.

“Yes,” Kate croaked.

“You’re not under arrest, but we need to ask you a few questions. About one of your coworkers, Andy Crumb.”

“I heard,” Kate had to clear her throat. “I’m more than happy to answer any of your questions. Please.”

Kate opened the door wider for the officers, who offered her polite smiles as they checked out her apartment.

Kate doesn’t know how or why the feeling suddenly came to her, but she suspected that Damien was standing at his door, smirking as he watched and listened as her life started to descend into madness.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @outlawers, @hejahockey, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @our-mrlangdon, @snokesthrussy, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird

#i'm trying #pedro pascal #oc!pedropascal x oc #pedro pascal x oc #darkoc!pedropascal x oc #original characters #original story #secrets secrets #vampires #werewolves #demons #angels #witches #magic #spells #mine #new #the supernatural #dark

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deathvalleyqueen · 4 years

Text

OC Mannerisms (part 2)

because...well now I have more OCs... and @nightwingshero has specifically requested the boys... Here we go...

Mary Jane’s are here BTW

Michael “Mac” MacKenna -

How they smile

Mac doesn’t smile often, it has to be something either that makes him genuinely happy (which is rare) or something that is actually highly amusing to him. But on said rare and mythical occasion that Mac smiles it’s a very broad and infectious smile, sometimes accompanied by a laugh or snarky chuckle. He has kind of a crooked smirk that he does as well when he finds something slightly amusing but it doesn’t warrant an actual full on smile.

What their “tell” is for lying

The MacKenna family moto should be “We lie often and well” , Mac has no real obvious tell for lying because at any given time he is trying to maintain at least three to four different lies all at once...even with his own family. The only time there is anything remotely close to a tell when he does lie is when he is found out or someone is close to the truth he is trying to hide (usually Mary Jane) he will shift his weight and look away, almost like a young child would, and quickly try to change the subject which only rarely actually works.

Posture

For the most part he appears to be mostly a relaxed type of guy in spite of his stint in the military. Very confident and sure of the fact that he could physically take just about anyone if he had to so he worries very little about trying to prove what a big man he is. He is a big guy, standing just over six foot and a pretty fit guy, he is an imposing figure and knows it. There is a certain amount of arrogance in the way he carries himself, shoulders back, head high. Little makes him afraid. When he sits, he man spreads a bit, usually draping his arm over the back of couch and taking a good amount of space because he really only lets few people close to him.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Mac is not a loud guy as a rule, actually fairly soft spoken... though he swears just about every other word out of his mouth. His tone is tone is usually pretty even in conversation, if you start to even hear that change you need to just run and hide. If he yells, it is a startling thing to witness because if he has to raise his voice that loud, it’s a serious situation. Overall Mac is not a huge talker, one of the few people who can get anything out of him is Mary Jane because she will just poke at him till he finally tells her what she wants to know.

Nervous tics

Cracks his knuckles... this is habit he has had since childhood. It drove his mother up a wall and he started doing it more to purposefully annoy her but it became something that became second nature. He is starting to have problems with his hands as he is getting older because of this and had tried to stop himself but it’s something he can’t seem to shake. He is also a bit of a chain smoker, particularly if he is stressed out and he often uses going out for a smoke as a way to avoid a situation that he wants to avoid.

How much eye contact do they make

Not as much as you would think, he tends to watch the room. Even when he talking to someone. It’s only when is speaking on something he considers important that he will look someone in the eye. He finds it very difficult to look people in the eye as it feels like they will see all his secrets so he avoids it when he can.

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Mac is always the one off watching the group and rarely adding things to the conversation unless someone specifically addresses him by name. He likes to be more of the watch, assess the situation and listen person because eventually in most of the situation he finds himself in these type of group conversations, Mary Jane will come to him after and ask his opinion on what he saw. He watches body langue and listens to peoples tones to be able to get a good read on them and their intentions.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Almost always stands with is his arms crossed in front of him in a defensive stance. Though he will lean on the wall on occasion if he is having a causal conversation with one of his siblings. He tries to appear very much a “presence” when standing, because a lot of of the time he will be standing behind MJ at events, almost like her body guard so he wants really put on the “don’t mess with” me vibe.

The sound of their footsteps

Mac is a big dude, who usually is wearing combat boots or work boots so he isn’t what you call “light on his feet” you can you usually hear him coming, which is usually his aim. He is not the sneak up on you and get you type of guy, Mac wants you to know he is coming and he wants you to be afraid.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Mac is a head nod guy, like he isn’t the type to shout across the room to greet anyone, even his siblings. For the people he is closest with occasionally he will hug them, mostly MJ, but he does the “bro shoulder clasp” with Sean, John and Bobby. If he doesn’t like you there is a strong chance, he will greet you a with a fist to the face, ask Colin in the later part of the story...

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

A single look, it’s not something that even needs a sound, but the Mac stare is legendary and known and you do not ignore that icy glare from those baby blues. Nope, you pay attention to what probably 4 words are going to come out of Mac’s mouth.

How they smile

Sean is a cheeky little shit, good natured, but cheeky little shit nonetheless. So his smile is mischievous, bright but sincere. He is actually a really nice guy, wants to help people and such so his smile appears often and is always warm and welcoming. It’s a very disarming smile as well, kind of like MJ, you wouldn’t expect a guy with as much inner turmoil to have such a cheerful, almost jokester personality... but he does.

What their “tell” is for lying

Sean is the lone member of the MacKenna’s who is horrible at lying. He just can’t keep a straight face and acts like a child caught by their mother trying to piece together something that could be a lie. Sean was originally pre-Law, this is how he met John, but quickly realized he could never be a good lawyer because he can’t lie to save his life. As Sean says he leaves the spinning of twisted webs to John and Mary Jane, he just handles the money.

Posture

Sean is a very loose guy, he is never rigid in his posture unless he is worried or getting ready to fight. Most of the time he is the most laid back of the brothers, save Bobby, he tends to slouch a bit too. Something he honestly picked up as a kid when he brothers would big on him for being a skinny little bean pole of a kid, it really messed with his confidence so he began slouching. When he sits he tends to sit in the corner of the couch, leaning against the arm, trying to get the best view of what’s going on in the room.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Sean is a pretty loud guy when he wants to be, not like his sister, but he knows how to make his opinion heard. In general conversation, he always has this air of sarcasm with everything he says, to the point most people who just meet him think nothing he says is serious at all. Though this often backfires on him when he is trying to be serious.

Nervous tics

He grids his teeth and locks his jaw, mostly because Sean is only ever truly nervous when he is about to fight. If he is worried, he tends to just be more attentive to whatever situation is causing him concern. Like when he was worried about John and MJ being able to handle having an infant, he pretty much lived with them for a month so he could help out and keep an eye on things. Sean tries so hard to hide his true emotions.

How much eye contact do they make

Sean makes a good deal of eye contact, he knows in importance of making it appear as if you are an honest and genuine person in business dealings so he has perfected the are of causal not creepy eye contact. He likes to look people in the eyes when he speaking with them as he feels it’s the only way he can get a good read on if they are lying or not. If he is uncomfortable in a situation his eyes will tend to dart around the room during conversation but if he is comfortable he will make full eye contact.

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Sean is almost always in the middle of the conversation, he is a charming and funny guy that can get along with most people on surface. So he always interjects himself into the center of the conversation in a group setting. Often trying to carry the conversation for those who may be uncomfortable in such a setting. He isn’t not the type of guy to talk your ear off for no reason, he will add what he feels is relevant to what is being discussed and the occasional joke but he will not try and dominate the conversation.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Sean tends to stand with his hands in his pockets, playing with change in his pockets or his keys. He is usually standing near whom ever he is talking to occasionally leaning against the door frame or wall just being his chill causal self.

The sound of their footsteps

Sean is not a guy who is naturally light on his feet, he can be if he wants to be but not without conscious effort. For the most part his footsteps are quick, he is always the one who moves quickly, but not like a cat. Think excited dog with the energy in in the way he moves. He isn’t graceful, nor is he clumsy... honestly... Sean is pretty average.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

A cheesy grin is almost always his go to greeting with friends and family. He is a pretty friendly guy. With MJ a lot of the time it’s a hug. With his brother’s he could playfully hit them like they did when they would roughhouse when they kids. With John it’s just... the guy nod... you know what I am talking about. The silent greeting guy friends give each other.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Like MJ, he hates to be ignored, so he will clap his hands, clear his throat honestly even get up in people’s faces if he has to if he really thinks someone isn’t listening to him. It’s one of the few times he will willingly come off more aggressive than he does naturally because dude does not like to be ignored. At all.

#tag games with friends #my fc5 ocs #sean mackenna #michael 'mac' mackenna #mac'a'doodles #god I feel so bad for giving him that nickname considering he is seriously tough dude #also apparently I have three peggie ocs #this is just the way of the world now

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years

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We’ll Carry On - Chapter Three

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

December 2nd, 2017

Roman stood at attention as the woman opened the door to his room. With her was a young boy, who couldn’t be more than six years old. “This will be your room,” she said dismissively. “The boy in here is Roman. I’m sure he’ll be willing to give you his bed.”

The boy looked around with a frown on his face after the woman left. Then he focused on Roman and scowled. “I don’t wanna share my room,” he said simply.

“I didn’t know that you would be coming, or else I might have seen if I could have made stuff for a second bed,” Roman said apologetically. “As it is, you can have mine until we figure out how to get an extra blanket in here...”

“I don’t wanna share my room,” the boy repeated. “Get out of my room.”

“I can’t, yet,” Roman said. “I need to finish my work, and I need somewhere to sleep...”

The boy shrieked and Roman stiffened. Someone was going to be in trouble for causing a ruckus, and as much as he didn’t want the boy to be in trouble, he didn’t want to be the recipient of the woman’s ire either.

“Roman?! What did you do now?!”

December 21st, 2018

Roman was shaken free from his thoughts by a knock at his new bedroom door. “Hey, Roman, whenever you’re up, Emile was hoping we could have a talk just the two of us,” Mister Remy’s voice said through the wood.

“All right,” Roman said. He walked to the door and opened it up. He was still in a pair of pajamas, but seeing as they weren’t going to meet with the school board until at least the second about getting Roman into classes, and they weren’t planning on going anywhere, Roman didn’t see much of a reason to change. “What do we need to talk about?”

“House rules,” Remy said, taking a step back. “Come to the kitchen, I’ll make us both some lunch.”

Roman nodded and followed Mister Remy out. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t see the talk about rules coming. After all, the places he had been before all had rules. He just hoped that these rules were actually reasonable.

Once they were seated in the kitchen, Mister Remy sighed. “Now, I don’t know how many rules there were where you came from, but I figure we can start with basic rules, like a curfew, when you should work on your homework, that sort of thing, and work our way inwards as needed. Sound good?”

Roman wasn’t quite sure he understood what “working inwards” was, but he figured Mister Remy would probably do some explaining as they talked more, so he simply nodded.

“All right. First things first: curfews,” Mister Remy said.

Roman, again, only nodded. He figured it would be something early, but hopefully not too early. He could only get so much done when he had to be in his room, asleep, by nine.

“Emile and I talked, and we figured that eleven o’clock should be the final cut-off. That’s when, unless you’re up sick with something, we want the light in your room off and you attempting to sleep. You can get ready for bed as soon as it’s eight thirty, but we don’t want you going to bed too early. Ideally, getting ready for bed around ten and being in bed by eleven should work, if you’re a night owl,” Mister Remy explained.

Roman blinked. That was not what he had expected. At all. “You’d let me stay up that late?”

“Well, Emile seemed to think it was fine,” Mister Remy said. “I probably would have made you go to bed at ten or ten-thirty rather than eleven, but he seems confident that giving you that flexibility means you won’t try and stay up later, because if you need to stay up for whatever reason, you can.”

Roman had to keep himself from gaping. “That...that works. Definitely. Yeah,” he agreed.

“Okay. Now, about homework,” Remy said. “When you go to school, homework will be your responsibility. We won’t insist you do it as soon as you get home, and you won’t have to do that before we give you food, or before you can relax, or watch TV. However, you have to have it done before the morning it’s due. And we won’t let you stay up later because you have homework. If any homework in any subject takes more than an hour for you, then come to us and we can work out a plan together for how to tackle it. If you have any difficulties with homework, you can come to us, whether it’s an issue with budgeting time or you don’t understand a concept. Emile and I will help to the best of our abilities.”

Roman got a pang of sadness in his chest when he remembered how his mom would help him with homework before...before he was alone. But he pushed it down and nodded to show Remy he was listening. “That will help a lot, thank you,” he said gratefully.

Mister Remy shrugged off his thanks. "It's really not a big deal, Roman. Both Emile and I know what it’s like to struggle with different aspects of school. We don't want you to be left struggling for whatever reason simply because you're afraid of asking for help. There are much more serious reasons for struggling, and you shouldn't be held back just because you need a little support."

Roman grinned slightly, letting just a little bit of his happiness at this shine through. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. Food and drink stuff, mostly," Mister Remy said. Roman's stomach sank, until Mister Remy spoke again. "You're welcome to eat whatever you want in the house, so long as you can prepare it safely. So if you know how to cook ramen, help yourself. If you're unfamiliar with skinning a potato, wait for someone to teach you. All we ask is that if we're running low on a certain food, you let us know, so we don't reach for something that isn't there."

Roman was unable to hide his shock at that. "Seriously?" he asked. "You don't mind if I need a snack in the afternoon?"

"You're twelve, Roman. You're still growing. If you need more food than whatever you get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we won't be offended if you ask for a snack. That's better than going hungry," Mister Remy said, leaning forward. "Didn't your guardians before tell you to not worry about food?"

Roman turned crimson and looked away. "Uh, not...not really," he managed. “Money was kind of tight...and we had to ration out what we would spend it on, so I couldn’t always just eat when I was hungry.”

Mister Remy looked concerned. Roman bit his tongue, trying to avoid the urge to spill his guts. What had happened to him since his mom. The foster homes he had been moved through. How the one he had run away from always seemed to have money for beer, but never for a second bed in any given room. How they took in small children, but relied on the older kids to watch the toddlers. How he couldn’t go to school because he was too busy making sure the house was pristine.

But he couldn’t say any of that. If Mister Emile and Mister Remy found out about that, they’d tell the foster system, and he might be sent back, or worse, those kids might be scattered to other homes. Other homes that might be abusive, not just neglectful. He couldn’t let that happen to any of them, not even the boy who hated Roman’s guts for sharing a room with him, or the girl who always pulled on Roman’s hair whenever he picked her up and moved her away from danger. No. That had to be a secret he carried to his grave.

“Well, rest assured, Roman, we have the money for food, okay?” Mister Remy said. “If you need to eat, you need to eat. We won’t stop you.”

Roman nodded and tried not to show how emotional he was getting at that small gesture. He knew that most people would consider that the right thing to do, and most kids wouldn’t be fazed by being able to eat whatever they wanted. But he was shaken to his core over this. This was something he never thought he’d be able to have again, and two strangers were just...giving him a home that he felt welcome in. It was a stroke of luck he honestly wasn’t expecting to find. Finding his dad in the first place seemed like a pipe dream. And yet. He was here.

“You okay, Roman?” Mister Remy asked.

Roman cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” he managed to say. “All of this is a little overwhelming.”

“Maybe we should save the rest of the rules for later, then,” Mister Remy said softly. “After all, any other rules we put in place would need your input.”

“You would...want my input?” Roman asked.

“Yeah,” Mister Remy said. “These rules affect you, after all. Those ones were just general guidelines. Anything else that we need to go over will be specifically for you and your needs.”

Roman tried to absorb that, but he was so used to being...used that he couldn’t figure out how someone wouldn’t want something from him in return.

“Yeah, I think we need a break from the rules talk,” Mister Remy said with a laugh. “Do you like football?”

“Uh...yeah, sometimes,” Roman said. “I’m not the best at playing, but I’m always willing to watch a game or two.”

“Cool. Emile doesn’t always enjoy watching a game with me, but I have a couple saved on the DVR, if you want to watch it for a bit?” Mister Remy offered.

“Sure,” Roman said easily, moving to the living room with Mister Remy.

They got settled on the couch and Mister Remy worked with the remote until the game was on the screen. Roman burrowed into the couch and let his mind wander. Running away hadn’t been his first choice, but it was looking like the right one. He was getting adopted. By people who respected his needs and were more considerate than anyone else he had met for a long time.

What really blew him away, though, was the fact that the people taking him in had known him all of two days. Obviously, they trusted him for some reason, but he couldn’t figure out why. He was very fortunate, whatever that reason was, but the reason itself was just something that he couldn’t figure out.

Mister Remy looked over at him. “You good, Roman?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Roman said. “I’m just thinking, I guess.”

“What are you thinking about?” Mister Remy asked.

“Well...you and Mister Emile...you guys just took me in, for no other reason than I showed up with nothing to my name and asked for help,” Roman said with a shrug. “I don’t know, that just sort of...shocks me, I guess?”

“Yeah, I suppose that could shock anyone who isn’t familiar with myself and Emile,” Mister Remy said with a chuckle. “But Emile has always been a kind soul at heart. He would never hurt anyone intentionally if he could help it. And I...well, I admire his spirit. I like the way he wants to help others, and I work to be as accepting and helpful as he is. He would have taken you in whether or not you’re his biological son, because you needed help. You needed to get out of a bad situation, and if he could help you with that, he wouldn’t understand why anyone in his position would refuse to help you.”

“Because they don’t know me?” Roman said. “I could just be someone trying to rob you blind, or someone here to try and trick you for whatever reason. Get free food, a place to stay, whatever.”

“But in any of those cases, you would need whatever you stole, or whatever you ate, or wherever you stayed,” Mister Remy countered. “Even if you stole something for the money, you would need that money for something. Most kids don’t rob people just because they’re bored. You understand what I'm getting at?”

“I guess,” Roman said skeptically. “But that still doesn’t explain why the both of you would take me in.”

Mister Remy smiled and shrugged. “Well, I guess it just might be one of life’s greatest mysteries,” he said, wiggling his fingers and making ghost noises.

Roman laughed. “You’re funny,” he said. “I may not understand why you and Mister Emile are so willing to help me, but I’m very happy that both of you are, regardless of your intentions behind it.”

“Thank you, I think,” Mister Remy said with a laugh. “Now, I assume you know how football works?”

“The basics,” Roman agreed. “I would sometimes see it when I was cleaning around the house and my foster parents would watch it.”

“You were in foster care?” Mister Remy asked.

Roman nodded. “For a bit, after my mom left,” he said carefully. “But they didn’t exactly...help me.”

Mister Remy frowned and Roman prayed that he wouldn't pry further. “All right,” Mister Remy dismissed. “If you want, we can talk about this later.”

Roman knew that couldn’t ever happen, much as he wanted it to.

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #remy sanders #our creations #danger gays

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tryintheirbest · 5 years

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I’ll Always Be Here

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a little angst?, mostly just fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Reader has had a rough week at work, but doesn’t want her roommate, Joe, to worry about her. No matter how hard she tries, he always knows how to help her.

A/N: Welcome to my first fic! I have written some fanfics before, but have been too nervous to post them until now. I hope you enjoy this little fluff piece. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

You let out a sigh as you turn your car off, settling into the new silence surrounding you. The warm leather of the steering wheel hits your forehead as you lean forward, your eyes closing as you let out another sigh. You were tired, exhausted even. Work had been kicking your ass all week and today was just the cherry on top. A heavier workload than usual, not having time to even take a five minute break, and the new guy. Your head raised from the steering wheel at that thought, face contorting into a scowl. The new guy...Brad.

He started working with you a week ago and was nice at first. He had asked you out on his third day and you declined as politely as you could, but Brad didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He was basically stuck to your side for the past few days, never leaving you alone for more than 5 minutes at a time. He would buy you coffee in the morning, offer to take you out to lunch, and would be constantly telling you how he would “prove himself to you”.

The enormous workload and the constant distraction by the name of Brad made this one of the worst weeks you’d ever had. You took a deep breath before opening your door and stepping out into the cool, fresh air. You shivered a bit, walking quickly to your apartment. Pulling your keys out of your bag as you approach your front door. I really hope Joe isn’t home, you think as you test the doorknob, seeing if it’s unlocked. When you open your front door, you let out a quiet sigh, knowing that Joe would want to know about your day and how you were doing.

Your roommate, Joe, was one of the nicest guys you’d ever met. The two of you met through a mutual friend and quickly became close. Moving in together was a no-brainer for the both of you, both looking for a roommate and both wanting to skip that awkward new roommate phase. You’d lived with Joe for a couple months and it had been amazing. He was the best roommate you’d ever had. The only problem you had was that Joe wouldn’t leave you alone if he thinks you were in a bad mood. He would do everything he could to make you feel better, or at least try to make you feel better. It had never been a problem before, but after the week you had, you just wanted to be left alone.

As soon as you closed the door behind you, you made a beeline to your room. Maybe if I make it to my room before he sees me, he’ll leave me alone. You had a hand reaching out to open your door when you heard from the living room, “Y/n, is that you?” Your eyes closed as you considered just ignoring Joe and going to your room, but you knew that would just worry him, so you replied, “Yeah, it’s me.” You heard him get up and his footsteps closer. You turned towards him just as he leaned up against the wall opposite your room.

“How was work today, shorty?” You roll your eyes as the nickname. “I’m only a few inches shorter than you Joe”. He smiled at your comment, but his smile quickly faltered when you didn’t return the gesture. He looked at you, waiting for you to break the silence. You cleared your throat, “Work was fine. I’m just tired.” He nodded his head, moving to make his way back to the living room. He stopped at the end of the hallway and turned back to face you, “I ordered pizza and it should be here in a few minutes.” You nodded your head before turning and going into your room, closing your door behind you.

Something’s not right with Y/n Joe thought to himself as he sat back on the couch, waiting for the pizza to arrive. Meanwhile, you were in your room, happy to finally be out of your work clothes. You changed into a pair of navy blue sweats and a t-shirt that Joe had bought you for your birthday. You felt the corners of your lips form into a small smile as you put the shirt on. It was a little too big for you, which Joe apologized for over and over for. You had always told him it was not a big deal because you could just use it to sleep in.

You sat on the edge of your bed, resting your head in your hands, closing your eyes, and taking a deep breath. You could feel tears begin to form in your eyes as you thought about your stressful week. You were finally home, you could finally relax, but you could’t. The amount of stress you were under the whole week hadn’t gone away like you hoped it would. You couldn’t stop the tears as they started running down your cheeks. You just sat there, hoping that having a good cry would help you feel at least a little better.

Your head shot up as you heard the front door open and Joe talking to who you assumed to be the pizza delivery man. It wasn’t even a minute later you heard the door close and Joe made his way to the kitchen. As he passed by the hallway, he called out “Pizza’s here!”. You shakily took a breath, wiping your eyes. You stood up, glancing at yourself in the mirror, deciding you didn’t look too much like you’d just been crying. You made your way out of your room and to the end of the hallway, seeing Joe had already put the pizza on two plates. “Do you want something to drink, shorty?” Joe asked as he got two glasses down from the cupboard. He had a small smile on his face when he turned around, his eyes meeting yours.

Worry took over his features as he took in your pink, slightly puffy eyes. Setting down the glasses, he walked over to you, “Y/n...what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” His hands were on your arms, searching your face for answers. You shook your head, not wanting to start crying in front of one of your best friends. Joe stepped forward, slowly pulling you into a hug. His hands were running up and down your back as he whispered, “Please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you.” That’s when you let the tears flow freely.

The two of you were standing in your kitchen as you cried onto Joe’s shoulder, tear-staining his shirt. He didn’t say anything, just kept rubbing your back and holding you. After a few minutes, you pulled away and took a breath. You met Joe’s eyes and you could see that he was genuinely concerned. You started telling him about your week. Joe stood there, listening intently as you ranted on about the huge workload you had, how you barely had time to eat your lunch at work. When you started talking about Brad, you could see that Joe was getting annoyed with the new guy too. You stood there when you finished, both not wanting to break the silence. Joe was the first to speak, taking a deep breath before saying “I’m so sorry you had a shitty week Y/n. Why didn’t you say anything though?” You shrugged your shoulders, weekly saying “I didn’t want to bother you with my stupid problem”.

He looked at you like you just told him you killed a man “Y/n, you could never bother me. You’re one of my best friends. I want to help you with any problem you have.” You gave him a small smile, pulling him back into a hug. You stayed there for a few moments, before you pulled away, grabbed your pizza, and made your way to the living room. Joe followed suit, setting his plate on the coffee table and taking a seat next to you on the couch. He grabbed the remote, mumbling something about finding something to watch while you got back up to get drinks. When you returned with two beers in hand, you saw that Joe had pulled up your favorite movie. You smiled at him as you handed him his drink. You both sat on the couch, side by side, legs brushing against each other as you started the movie. As the first scene started, you glanced over at Joe and whispered “Thank you”. He looked at you and gave you a warm smile. “Of course, shorty. Anytime you need help, I’ll always be here.”

#joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello fluff #reader insert #my writing #joe mazzello #borhap #borhap boys #text post

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Fifty: Far From Home ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

The worst part about his job? The business trips.

It doesn’t matter how fancy the hotel, how grand the destination, how appealing the attractions of the local area while he’s there.

Because all Sasuke can think about while he’s gone is what he left behind.

He’s only been married for six months now. But that doesn’t mean he misses Hinata any less ardently whenever his father sends him out on these escapades. At least Fugaku gave him some leeway when they were first married: two months without a single excursion from his new wife.

But...work is work, and he couldn’t avoid them forever.

Itachi, of course, is much in the same boat. Fugaku keeps him just as busy, if not more so given his lined up future role as CEO after their father. Add in the fact he’s already got a child, and he’s run ragged...and just as homesick whenever he’s far from home.

This time, they have a rare duo outing. From their home city of Nagoya, they’re to fly to Los Angeles for a new trade deal Fugaku’s got planned. It must be a massive one if he’s sending both brothers.

Packing up his suitcase the day before, Sasuke does his best to look at the bright side. If this deal goes through, both he and his brother have been promised a rather sizeable bonus. Something Sasuke can’t really say no to. After all, the pair are doing their best to save up to leave their (admittedly very nice) apartment for something a bit more…homey. An actual house, to be exact.

Because eventually, they’d like to have a kid or two. Granted, not for a couple of years yet (or so they plan), but it’s never a bad thing to put some money away in the rainy day fund.

...not that either Uchiha brother is underpaid by any means. But, semantics.

Happening to be home from work herself, Hinata’s been helping out with preparations: mostly in regards to making sure all the laundry was done that morning for him to cram into the space he’s allotted in his suitcase. Also helping to round up all his tech he’ll need: laptops, thumb drives, cell phones, and a ridiculous amount of cables and cords. He’s got a rather important presentation to give, after all.

Hence having five copies of it.

Hey, he’s a guy that likes to be prepared.

He even gave one to Itachi to hang onto.

“Okay, here’s the last of it.”

Turning from his position alongside the bed where he’s perched his gear, Sasuke sees Hinata haul in the laundry basket full of newly-folded clothes. “Thanks.”

“I think I might make some lunch - anything sound good?”

“Just something light - I don’t want to risk having an upset stomach on a flight that long.”

Smiling behind a hand, Hinata nods, retreating to do just that.

As she goes, Sasuke’s movements slow, watching her go. He’s going to be gone for nearly two weeks. Granted, most overseas trips are on the longer side. They try to cover more during their opportunity to meet in person, after all. But that means even longer without being home. Without home-cooked meals, a warm body to sleep next to, company to relax with.

Sure, he loves his brother...but his brother’s not a wife. Besides, Fugaku went overboard and got them each their own room.

He’s the type to flaunt.

Mood a bit melancholy, Sasuke finishes up the clothes portion of his packing and decides to save all his gadgets for later. For now, he wants to soak up some wife time before they call it a night. His flight is in the morning, so this is really his last chance until he gets back.

Juggling a few things in the apartment’s kitchen, Hinata glances up at the movement, giving a soft smile. “Taking a break?”

“More like procrastinating.”

Sympathy tinges her expression. “I’m sure it will go quickly.”

“They never go quickly.”

Hinata’s expression then falls to a flat pout. “...I’m trying to be optimistic!”

“I know. And I love that about you.” Coming up behind her, Sasuke just...plunks his chin atop the crown of her head, leaning ever so slightly as she works at the stove. “You’re the sunshine to my clouds.”

That earns him a soft snort. “And you’re the cheese to my crackers - w-what was that line?”

“Me being out of sorts because I’m going to miss you so badly.”

“At least you get to see your brother for a while, right? You two never have any time, since you’re both so busy…”

“...I guess.” In truth, they’ll likely have little downtime to enjoy that time together. But he’s already being a sourpuss, so...he’ll leave that part out. For Hinata’s sake.

They indulge in lunch before Sasuke gets back to packing, making sure he’s got every doodad and thingamabob he’ll need to make this trip work in the tech department. By early afternoon he’s pretty sure he’s got everything stuffed into the case, and he leaves it by the door for a quick exit tomorrow morning.

But for now...it’s lounging time.

They pop in a movie to waste a bit of time, snuggled up on the couch and mostly just zoning out. Or...Sasuke is. Hinata actually looks pretty invested. But she’s always been rather easy to entertain. Which is good. Because Sasuke often lacks a sense of humor that’s not flat and dry, so even he can still make her laugh.

A miracle, really.

By the time the movie ends, it’s time for dinner, which they prepare together now that Sasuke isn’t otherwise preoccupied. Instead, he handles the more mundane parts (the ones Hinata trusts him with) while she does...pretty much everything else.

It’s not that he’s a bad cook, he just...has an aptitude for fire. Even when...there shouldn’t be any fire. Which is why he’s not allowed near anything remotely warm.

Even the microwave is an iffy subject.

From there, Sasuke decides to double check his stuff. Because he will not be happy if he gets all the way to Los Angeles and realizes something is missing. A cord, sure - he can buy a new one. Same with clothes. But some things are rather irreplaceable.

Watching from the couch, curled up with a mug of tea, Hinata lets herself be amused. “Got it all?” she calls once he zips the bag closed for what probably won’t be the last time.

“Think so.”

“It’s a wonder you ever manage to leave for these t-trips with all your fussing,” she can’t help but tease, leaning her head on his shoulder innocently as he plops beside her.

“Not sure my father would consider that an acceptable excuse for missing a flight.”

“Probably not.”

Hinata then starts up knitting, Sasuke leafing through a magazine. He hates how...idle they get when they’re just waiting for him to leave. It feels like they should be doing...more. But what more is there to do?

Besides, well...the obvious. But he’s a little stressed for that. At least, he tells himself, they’re spending time together. Besides, neither of them are particularly...active. In the sense they don’t need to be doing something to enjoy themselves. Companionable quiet is their specialty.

So maybe this is the best way to spend his evening.

“...think we should get to bed? Don’t want to be groggy at the airport.”

“Yeah...I guess so.” He doesn’t want to sleep - sleeping will bring tomorrow all the faster! But in the end he has little choice - there’s no way in hell he’s pulling an all nighter.

Once they’re tucked into bed, he latches onto her with a sigh. “...I hate this.”

A hand brushes his hair consolingly. “I know...me too.” But this is what his job entails. It’s either suck it up, or probably lose speaking privileges with his father if he quits. “You can call me any time.”

“Time zones, Hinata.”

“I don’t care. Any time means any time. If I don’t answer, just...text me instead. I’ll write back when I can, o-okay?”

A nod against her hair.

“...I’m turning out the light now.”

“Okay.”

“You need to sleep now.”

Silence. And then, “...okay.”

Once it’s dark, she shimmies in his grip to give his brow a kiss. “...wake me before you go. I want to see you off.”

“Will do.” Returning the gesture, he holds it a long moment, as though to make it easier to recall once he’s alone. “...night, ‘nata.”

“Goodnight, Sasuke.”

.oOo.

An entry this early? What witchcraft is this?! xD ("early" being a very relative term, given it's still after midnight lol) Admittedly, I've been feeling rather burnt out lately...but that's probably mostly because I have another big project going on: I'm hosting a ship week here on Tumblr! One focusing on OCs paired with canons, lol - and I'm not only hosting, but also participating, so I've been TRYING to get mine done in advanced. It starts Saturday, and I have 3/7 entries done...whoops. But at least 4 is halfway done. Might poke at it a bit more tonight. BUT ANYWAY, if you notice things are a bit...shorter or seem a bit more rushed for the next ten days or so, that's probably why! Sorry ;;; As for this piece, it's Sauce being a lil prematurely homesick in modern. Not connected to any other pieces, just...random fluff, lol - I think he's the sort to be lowkey clingy. At least Hinata doesn't mind x3 Anywho, that's all from me tonight! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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