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heli0s-writes · 4 years

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pagan poetry*

A/N: Hey-o! After nearly 3 months of being a complete disaster, I ... did a thing. Very much my usual brand of filth. Thanks for sticking around as I continue to navigate this impending sense of oblivion!! 1.6k words of bangin’ Bucky Barnes. Yeeeeeeahhh.

Title is from this song, by Bjork. 🖤

Warnings: Smutty smut and heathen shit, what else is new with Helios?

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Steve asked if you were religious once.

It was an off the cuff kind of question, prompted by something you can’t remember now—silly banter over drinks and a background party, perhaps. Both grown weary of entertaining a crowd of strangers, etiquette spent nearing the night’s end. You’d shrugged lazily and prefaced that it’s hard to shake an entire childhood of indoctrination but now, by resolute choice, you aren’t.

You lied. You’ve never been more devout.

It was easier than getting into all the semantics, anyway. Where would you start explaining that you now spend more time than ever at worship? Not in the middle of Tony’s so-called “small” get-together of “only” seventy-five people. Certainly not a place to admit to Steve that your knees supplicate more earnestly than the most pious of priests, your throat constantly pouring the sweetest profession of faith—the name of the most divine.

Even if the two of you were somewhere more private, and he was at least half as drunk as you were, it’s a bit blasphemous, Steve, that you fuck Bucky six ways to Sunday and call it religion.

It’s a hard desire to curb when he looks like that. Bucky’s built like a god— his arm the kind of weapon you’d happily split your tongue polishing. Strong, powerful legs. Broad shoulders like lovingly carved marble, worked between the hands of a Renaissance master, tapered sharply down to his wasp’s waist.

His hips. Lord, you could dedicate eternity naming every last inch of his hips.

Such a pretty boy. How he makes you hungry to sin.

“Bucky,” you whisper, enthralled again when he steps out from a quick shower. Smoldering and glorious, and you’re Joan of Arc constantly being descended upon by a burning archangel. Some random night, like any other night, and you’re overtaken again. Hazy with orange glow, the billowing mist makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then, you feel… hm.

Wet.

He cautions the way you chew on your lip, eyes twinkling brightly because what else is new. You? Turned on? Bucky could be brushing his teeth and you’d start climbing him like your personal jungle gym.

“Sweetheart,” he begins warily, adjusting the towel on his hips—those beautiful, beautiful hips. “One more dinner with us swinging in late and they’re gonna stop inviting us.”

You nod along dumbly, deaf now and set on a singular mission. Crawling on your knees, you reach Bucky halfway as he tries to put an end to your pilgrimage. Tries because your palms are fast over the damp fabric, fingers threading through warm fibers before landing flat against his abs, feeling up to his chest, murmuring stupidly, always so shocked at his everything. You graze up his wrists, his forearms, making paths of taut muscle.

“How bout after dinner?” His thumbs gently brush the swell of your breasts before he holds you back, straightening your spine when you arch into him. “Promise I’ll give it to you good later.”

“Give it to me now?”

He laughs. “You really gotta work on your negotiation skills…”

“Huh… Lemme try again: give it to me… right now?”

Bucky groans in equal measures of exasperation and exhilaration when you fall back on your knees. A few more half-hearted baby, quit it, ‘m serious, and then he gives up completely.

“Steve’s gonna get himself in a mood.”

“Steve’s always in a mood.”

Wilted protests quickly disappear into the hollow of your cheeks, licked away by your clever tongue. He grips the back of your neck firmly, tilting your head the way he likes best, eyes flicking down to meet yours before they close. He keeps you there a little longer, his toes curling into the carpet with each bob of your head.

“Yeah, you’re—always in a mood, too—uhhm—“

And you hum in agreeance, but the sound only vibrates into his skin, making him groan louder.

Bucky’s voice is slurred, as if half drunk. “Can’t hear— mm— you, sweetheart…”

So you make something up to give him what he wants, that buzzing of your throat on his cock, and his thighs tighten in response, the hand on the back of your neck reflexively scrabbling to your shoulder with a hard grip.

It’s a bit counterproductive of you to be so sloppy, considering that Bucky’s freshly showered and cleaned up— the scent of his brisk body wash strong and harsh in your nose— but fucking him like it’s your job allows some insight to what he likes, and it’s easily this:

Dirty, filthy, drooling wet blowjobs. The messier the better and the faster it gets him there. Your radiant Right Hand of God, but goddamn is he a little devil himself.

Bucky’s growling by the time he hauls you toward the bed, depositing your thrilled skin on the mattress firmly. Red lips meet yours with force, plush and full, nipping at the corners of your wet mouth like he’s kissing back every trace of him. He presses on across your jaw, up and down your neck. His voice is husky sweet and breathy in your ear.

“You bad, bad girl.” And you start curling yourself into him, nodding for more. One of his hands is working himself, the sound of your spit slippery in his fist. “You got me all messy again.”

Your skin feels blistering and freezing at the same time, chills racing to your fingertips tightly hooked around his biceps. The outfit you put on for a nice, quaint dinner at Steve and Sharon’s too heavy now, too constricting, but he doesn’t let you take it off.

“Every morning and night not enough dick for you, is it?” Bucky brushes your hands away, taking hold of your chin and peeling your head back until you’re looking at him. His pupils are blown wide, the only thing left of his irises are two thin rings of barely there blue as he scans your face. Your brain is short-circuiting, hanging onto every syllable, every purse of his cherry lips.

He switches on and off like a light. Beautiful, soft, thoughtful one minute, all force and darkness the next. You faithfully take it all, every facet of him. Your angel boy. Your wicked soldier.

Joan of Arc was only hallucinating, but she wasn’t half as lucky as you to have conjured something half as astonishing as Bucky. Gorgeous strong jaw, bristles along his chin and cheek scrubbing noisily against your lips as he kisses you. His mouth— open and wet, sloppy against yours— hardly landing right and you’re toeing delirium by the time his fingers slide up your shirt.

Bucky pushes you down into the sheets, rucking up your skirt until it bunches around your waist. “We’re in a rush, remember?” He tucks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and yanks them to one side. Just enough. In a rush. Your thighs meet with a determined shimmy of his hips— those incredible hips— and then you’re full, so full of him.

The blood in your ears crashes against reality and bends it all sideways. Not religious like that, but since the first time you’d touched him, you’ve been cocksure if heaven were real, it’d be this. It’d be him.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Bucky promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your addled brain, the tell-tale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of where he’s connected— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time to it like a trained toy.

“Bucky,” you mewl, “Buck.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

He takes the back of your neck again, lowering his body over yours, faster now. Deliberately reckless and the entire bed is rocking, springs squealing under his pace.

“Oh my god,” you smash your brow into the junction of his shoulder, hanging on by a thread as he drives into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

His grip is tourniquet tight, thumb moving to the middle of your throat, pressing ever so slightly until your breath feels trapped under the swirl of his fingerprint. The curtain of his hair hangs over your face, blocking out the room going blindingly white. Your eyes shut tightly, opening only for a second to catch him panting over you, burning hot, his features flickering from utter control to trembling pleasure to something akin to frenzy.

Your vision shuffles like a deck of cards. His hands are everywhere. Eyes devouring every inch of your skin. There’s a million of him taking a million of you to a million more pieces. You shatter then, clawing his back and arms, singing like a fucking choir the infinity of his name.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. He makes your days holy. The altar of his body. The sacrament of his sweat. He breaks you apart into something luminous.

Religion. Not religion. Your heathen soul—whatever tiny fracture you may have—all his, forever. Now, tomorrow, at the end of the world.

So, when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished dinner, as predicted, over an hour late and in terrible disarray, Steve crosses himself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Sam clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.”

All you can do is duck your head and grin.

#buck barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction #smut

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queenie-the-writer · 2 years

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so, you want to start a writing account?

HI ROYALS. in this post i’ll just be giving some basic tips i wish i’d had before making my account! this is the second post of my series abt running a writing account :). what else do i even say in intros?? (don’t mind me just having a mini crisis while writing this) IM FINEEEEE

what should i post?

i think starting off with a “meet the writer” or some sort of intro to who you are is a great idea. that way people will feel like they know the person behind the account, which in turn could lead to people with similar interests reaching out and becoming friends.

after your first post, it’s really up to you. not every writing account posts tips, but you could post about your writing and wip if you have one, memes if you’re so inclined, book reviews, aesthetics like lookbooks or anything else you can come up with!! we love seeing creativity in this community and seeing smth new is always refreshing :)

finding a place in the community

the simplest thing is that this takes time. the more consistent you are with your activity, the sooner it will happen i’m sure. but don’t burn yourself out so quick!

one of the best things you can do is find a bunch of other writing accounts to follow. this will simultaneously help you make friends and increase your reach!

don’t be afraid to reach out in dms. plenty of us are ready to help and can understand where you’re coming from—so if you ever have a question or just want to talk, go for it!!

engagement

again, this will probably be slow going. and there’s nothing wrong with that! here’s a few quick tips when it comes to reach and engagement:

— aesthetic / theme: see next slide

— understand the algorithm: the insta algorithm is a fickle thing and we can never seem to grasp the concept for long, but as far as i’m aware the most valuable interaction is shares, the least being likes. feel free to research this! (and lemme know what you find)

— engage with others: more often than not, creators will notice your activity on their account if you’re consistent and wander over to your account to repay the favour!

— question of the day (qotd): often a simple question in the caption that gives followers the chance to leave a comment.

— hashtags: using tags that relate to you post helps your content reach other people! try to use big and small hashtags, and between 12-15 a post.

a short guide to acc aesthetics / themes

a specific theme isn’t obligatory when you make an account, but a certain vibe or aesthetic can definitely help in the growth department because let’s be real. we all like looking at pretty things, as much as we might say “don’t judge a book by its cover”. (a horrible mindset, rlly)

when it comes down to designating an aesthetic for your account, here’s some aesthetics to inspire:

— dark / light academia

— royalcore

— ethereal / fairycore

— indie

— minimalist

— black and white

THERE ARE SO MANY POSSIBILITIES LIKE THE CREATIVITY IS ENDLESS.

in my experience, the more specific and unique your theme is, the better people will like it—taking my reign theme as an example!

but, when it comes down to what’s really important, it’s that you love the way your account looks. it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. it’s your space, so pour your heart and soul into it and make it your very own.

apps to download

— instagram: oh wait you prob already have this one huh

— canva: really useful for making posts, i use it for all of mine. user-friendly and there’s a lot to discover, i could spend hours on this app!!

— video star: a great tool for making end cards or adding music to a slide.

— feed preview for instagram: functions very simply, allows you to plan out what your account will look like before you post!

— picsart: good for editing photos and creating aesthetics!

— pinterest: the b e s t source for aesthetic photos and super easy to organize :)

final word

there is no right or wrong way to go about making a writing account. it should be a space for you and your writing and your characters, and a chance to find other writers like you. my best piece of advice would be to have patience and to persevere. do it because you love it, and if it starts to feel like a chore, stop. take a break. YOU GOT THIS <3

#writergram #writersofinstagram #writers on instagram #writers #writing therapy #writing account #writing again #world domination

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

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Basic Instincts Part 23- Deal

18+ Hawks x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: Hawks was your first friend, your first kiss, and your first love. You were the same for him. But you’re not little commission trainees anymore, you’re full fledged pro-heroes now with all the baggage and sacrifice that entails. Things are different now, and when the two of you end up accidentally mated, well… they’re about to get even more different.

Warnings for unprotected sex, handjob, oral (male receiving), light nipple play, light dom/sub themes, light overstimulation, wing kink, and praise kink

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

"You ok Dove?" Keigo asks as he comes up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. You quickly turn off your phone's screen and toss it aside before spinning in Keigo's arms to look at him properly. You can feel your heart starting to break already but you swallow it down. "I'm fine, just still recovering from worrying about your stupid ass," you lie with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he replies as he nuzzles his nose against yours. "I know... I love you so much Kei," you whisper into the small sliver of air between the two of you. "I love you too," he breathes back and your grips on each other get impossibly tighter. God he'd be so angry if he knew what you'd just agreed to. You hope he'll forgive you eventually.

“Can I preen your wings?” you ask suddenly.

Keigo pulls back surprised to search your eyes as if in disbelief that you’d offer. His wings puff and flutter at the notion before wrapping around you protectively. “I’d love that,” he admits breathlessly. You give him a bright smile, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you instruct him to sit on the bed. He does as asked, pulling his shirt off carefully as he does so, leaving him in just a pair of sweats. You carefully sit down behind him, legs straddled on either side of him, and can’t help but appreciate the sight before you. Keigo is all lithe muscle, everywhere from his shoulders to his lower back toned from years and years of hard training and hero work. Scars litter his body and you can’t help but to reach out and trace the burn marks still left from his infamous run-in with Dabi. He shudders at your gentle touch, as if merely brushing along the scars is enough to send him back into those memories, so you carefully lean forward and place a delicate kiss to the scarred skin. He sighs into it and you watch the muscles slowly lose their tension as he starts to relax.

You reach one hand forward to start at the base of his right wing, gently kneading the taut muscle connecting it to his back before slipping your fingers through the soft downy feathers there. A groan of relief tumbles from his lips unbidden at the feeling and it makes something warm curl up next to the cold dread that’s taken up residence in your heart. Gradually you progress further and further down his wings, the feathers reacting to your every touch. The loose ones fall away under your careful ministrations and soon you hear a gentle coo rumbling through Keigo’s chest as you continue to carefully remove the excess feathers. You’ve always found his wings majestic and although they may be smaller than their usual size, they’re no less awe-inspiring now and you treasure being trusted enough to touch them so intimately. When you finally reach the tip of his right wing you shift your focus to the left, giving it the same delicate attention. “Shit (y/n),” he sighs, his eyes drifting shut as his head falls back against your collar and you continue to carefully stroke through his wing. Once you finish the left wing you press a gentle kiss to the top of his head and wrap your arms around his torso, his abs jumping beneath your touch and his wings twitching and fluttering on either side of you. “You’re so sensitive Kei,” you whisper as one of your hands wanders to one of his already hardened nipples. He hisses slightly as you pinch the sensitive nub and you can see his cock twitch through his sweats.

“(Y/n) I-“

“Shhh, lemme take care of you.”

One hand returns to his wings, gliding through the feathers with care and occasionally raking your nails along them. Keigo shudders against you as you let your other hand slip down his torso and past the waistband of his pants to wrap around his hardened length. Your thumb swipes over the sensitive head of his cock, causing his hips to buck slightly. You use the precum gathered there to ease the gentle glide of your hand around his dick as you start to pump him slowly. You sync the hand stroking his cock with the one stroking his wings and soon Keigo is swearing under his breath, both hands fisting in the sheets as his hips thrust up into your hand. The whole time you whisper sweet nothings and praises into his ear. “You look so pretty like this Kei. My pretty bird. So perfect for me. I love you, I love you so much.” It’s the last night you’ll be able to tell him these things so you’re determined to etch them into his memory so that they remain long after you’re gone. His wings start to spasm as you drive him closer and closer to climax so you speed up both your hands’ motions to drive him there even faster, taking pride in the way he shudders against you and moans your name. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum,” he keens, hips thrusting up into your fist eagerly eyes squeezed tightly shut in pleasure. “Open your eyes, I wanna watch you fall apart for me,” you command and Keigo is quick to obey. His eyes immediately find yours once he opens them again and the eye contact you make is searing as he cums with a shout, painting his own chest white with sticky ropes of his seed.

You tilt your head to kiss him in reward as you milk him through his orgasm until he’s spent. If you had any intention of ending the night there though Keigo quickly squashes it as he turns in your arms to press a hungry kiss to your lips. It’s intense and all consuming, the bond flaring up in response to the heated exchange to further enhance every sensation. He carefully strips you both down until your naked bodies can press against each other, your arms loop around his neck to pull him closer, grinding up against him. He winces slightly, his dick still sensitive, but you’re determined to show him the best possible last night. You roll over so you’re on top pressing him into the mattress as his hands grasp hold of your hips and immediately you once again reach for his sensitive wings. “You tryna kill me there Dove?” he groans breathlessly as his hips jerk up, dick starting to harden again already. “Maybe a little,” you tease as you continue to run your hands through his feathers. “Careful (y/n), st-still sensitive,” he warns but you only shush him as you start to fist his cock back to full hardness. “Gonna make you feel so good,” you promise, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving down to his neck to suck bruises there.

Each mark you leave stands in stark contrast to the rest of his pale skin as you make a trail down his chest and torso. No matter what happens in the morning Keigo is and always will be yours. If this is your one chance to show the world that then you’ll take it. Only once his neck and chest are covered in your marks do you drop lower, licking a long strip up his cock and drawing a moan from your mate. You’re merciless in your attention, sucking him into your mouth even when he’s still only half hard. He curses and whines above you as you sink down lower and let him gradually harden within the damp cavern of your mouth. Only once he’s fully hard again do you start to bob your head up and down the shaft. Each strangled cry and broken moan you wring from his throat goes straight to your aching core, your own wetness collecting between your legs and threatening to drip down your thighs. But tonight isn’t about you, so you ignore the twitching of your eager pussy in favor of sucking Keigo down as if your very life depends on it. “Gonna cum again,” he warns but that only spurs you on more as you try your hardest to take in even more of his long, thick length. You feel the head of his cock kissing the back of your throat and shortly afterwards you feel his seed pouring down it. You swallow every drop without hesitation, greedy to taste him and savoring every moment.

Again you give him no time to recover, your own neglected sex now aching to be stuffed with your lover’s cock and filled with his seed. He whimpers as you start stroking his dick again. “Fuck Dove, ‘s real sensitive, be careful,” he moans. “Do you want me to stop?” you ask but he shakes his head. “No baby, it’s ok keep going, fuck keep going. I can go again for you,” he practically mumbles and you can’t help but lean down and press the sloppiest kiss to his lips in response. You waste no time lining yourself up and then sinking down on his cock until he’s fully inside you, both of you moaning at the sensation. You experimentally give a little roll of your hips, clenching down around him as you do so, and Keigo’s reaction is immediate, hips thrusting up and curses falling from his lips. “Not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he huffs. “Don’t care, want you to fill me up,” you reply and he can only look up at you in wonder as you start to slowly lift yourself up and then sink back down on his aching cock. Your velvety walls feel like heaven around him as he moves his hands to your waist to help you along. Your eyes never leave his and the ecstasy burns through your emotional connection just as much as it does your physical one. It’s a slow, sensual grind but it still drives you both mad. When Keigo murmurs to you that he’s already getting close again, his over sensitive cock twitching inside you with every move, you just nod and clench around him, emotion swelling within you until tears roll down your cheeks. One of his hands slips from your hip to press circles into your clit. “‘M so close, can’t much longer. G’nna cum baby,” Keigo admits. “Hold out a little longer let’s cum together,” you reply and Keigo nods frantically, his finger lavishing more attention on your puffy bundle of nerves to drive you closer to the brink. The most sinful noises start to drop from your lips as you find the perfect angle to have his cock head brushing along that one spongy spot inside you. By sheer force of will, Keigo manages to hold out long enough to send you tumbling into climax first, but he swiftly follows behind you. As you sob out his name, your vaginal walls clamping and fluttering around his cock, you send him straight into his third orgasm of the night, his balls drawing up tight before releasing their load, painting your insides white with his cum and marking you as his and his alone. He’s not sure when he started crying but his cheeks are certainly wet as you lean down, both your tears and his mingling on your cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much Kei you have no idea,” you sob as you press your forehead to his. You sound so heartbroken as you say it, as if scared he’s about to slip away, so he pulls you closer and whispers reassurances in your ear that only seem to make you sob harder. “(Y/n) baby, what’s wrong? It’s ok I’m right here, I’ll always be right here,” he promises as your arms wrap tightly around him. “I don’t want to lose you,” you confess. “You won’t,” he promises.

You wish that were true.

Keigo holds you until your sobbing subsides and with final whispered “I love you”s you let him think you’ve slipped into sleep. Between the exertion from his mission and the after effects of Recovery Girl’s quirk, you’re not surprised that his breathing evens out shortly after you’ve supposedly passed out. You still don’t move at first, making absolutely certain that Keigo is asleep before you slip out of his arms. You quickly get redressed before finding a duffel bag to pack up some of your stuff. At the last minute you grab one of the feathers that had fallen off when you were preening him and add it to your bag. You zip it up and heft it onto your shoulder, leaving your apartment keys on the nightstand next to Keigo. You slip out of your bedroom and into the living room, guilt and heartache crawling up your throat as you make your way to the front door. Just before you can leave a figure suddenly looms large in the doorway causing you to jump.

“Jesus Akaguro you scared the shit out of me!” you hiss once you realize who exactly is stood before you.

“You’re making a mistake,” Stain growls. “Reading other people’s messages over their shoulder is rude,” you huff. “He’s not worth it,” Stain insists and at that you tense. “I know you’ve always thought he was one of the fake heroes you despise so much, but you’re wrong. He is the best hero I’ve ever met and if anyone can fix the bullshit with hero society and the HPSC It’s him,” you insist, eyes burning with determination as you stare down your friend. Your conviction seems to stun him. He narrows his eyes as if analyzing your sincerity before finally sighing.

“Nothing I say will change your mind will it?”

“No...”

“What can I do?”

“Hug me goodbye?”

Stain nods and your hands glow red as you materialize him, tears already starting to fall from your eyes again as the reality of your situation fully sinks in. It’s not just Keigo you’re losing, it’s everyone, and that hurts even more than you expected it to. You pull Stain into you and bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound of your tears so as not to wake up Keigo. Akaguro is awkward at first but eventually he returns the hug. “Watch over him for me,” you plead. “I will,” Stain swears. You know he’ll keep his word and you can’t afford to stay much longer or you may lose your conviction so you pull away and give one final nod of goodbye before stepping around your friend and walking out of the door. Each step makes you feel heavier as you walk away from everything, but at no point do you regret your decision. Keigo will be safe. Or at least the safest a hero can ever be. That’s enough.

It hurts but it’s enough.

A/N: (Y/n) was always going to be taken by the HPSC but her having to make this choice was inspired by Banana fish. I warned y’all you should be worried 🤭

Taglist: @oliviasslut @theycallme-becky @vibesdontlie @superhermit @thechroniclesofawriter

#hopelessbi #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks smau #hawks x y/n #hawks x fem!reader

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

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I’m Taeking Over You

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— SMUT, boyfriend au, clubbing au

Warnings— Dom!Taehyung, brat!reader, fingering, choking, some booty spanking, explicit rough and unprotected sex, basically pwp

Word Count— ~2.8k

Summary— You convince your boyfriend to go out clubbing with you, but the night heats up after he sees you dancing with another man.

A/N—I hope you enjoy this! Also I thought the name was cute :/ I love puns

“Let’s go out tonight,” you suggest with a bored tone.

“You wanna go out? But it’s late and we’re so comfy here,” your boyfriend, Taehyung, responds without taking his eyes off his laptop screen.

“Yeah, YOU are comfy. I’m bored,” you huff as you stretch out on the bed, “You’re paying me NO attention.”

You hear a deep sigh followed by the closing of a laptop. You’re laid out like a star in the middle of the bed with your eyes closed. Your cheeks are puffed out in protest. The weight of the bed starts to shift as Taehyung crawls over you. You finally open your eyes to see Taehyung smiling over you.

“I’m here now, you brat. Where do you want to go?” he asks sweetly.

“Mina’s club downtown finally opened up. She told me that the drinks are cheap but still pretty good,” you cheer up.

“Alright, go get ready then,” Taehyung leans down to kiss your forehead before rolling off the bed.

You go through your closet in search of the perfect outfit. You settle on pairing a flashy off the shoulder crop top with a cute skirt. You lean over your vanity so get a closer look in the mirror as you apply your makeup.

Taehyung walks into view. He also changed into clubbing appropriate attire. He leans against the doorway as he watches you apply your lipstick. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself anymore when he walks up to hug you from behind.

“You look beautiful, baby. You sure we can’t stay home tonight?” Taehyung kisses your neck as his hands start to travel down your sides. You stop his hands at your hips.

“And waste this outfit? I don’t think so. You’ll have plenty of time to appreciate all of this after the club,” you tease him, grinding your ass into his crotch.

He lets out a low groan in response, “You love being a tease don’t you? Let’s go then, before I fuck you here on the counter.”

The drive to downtown was pleasant. Taehyung was blasting music that both of you were singing along to. After a while, Taehyung bobbed his head with the music as you continued to sing your heart out.

“Is that the line for the club?” Taehyung nodded towards a line that wrapped around the block.

“Yikes, I think so. Lemme call Mina real quick,” you whip out your phone.

“What is she gonna do--”

“MINA! Hey girl, how are ya? Yeah! I’m right in front of it right now, but the line is HUGE. Do you think you could--oh? Oh it is? Mine and Tae’s? That’s perfect! Thanks babe, I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how it went! Mwah!” you hung up.

“Babe, you sound so fake when you talk to her,” Taehyung shook his head.

“Flattery goes a long way. How else would our names already be on the VIP list?” you wink.

Taehyung gives you a surprised but impressed look as you lead him to the front of the line. The beefy bouncer found your names on the list and apathetically let you both inside.

The music was deafeningly loud as soon as you guys walked in. You couldn’t even really make out the words. All you could feel was the heavy bass. Of course, it was only this loud because for some reason, the speakers were super close to the entrance.

Taehyung led you to a booth furthest away from the speakers. The music was still loud, but what else do you expect at a club? At least now you could hear yourself think. Taehyung examined the drink menu as soon as he sat down.

“Wow, the drinks really aren’t that expensive! Still pricey, but cheaper than most clubs,” he yelled to you.

He ordered a round of drinks when the waitress came by. His hand rested on your thigh as you people watched together. The dance floor was bustling with life. There was grinding and dirty dancing as far as the eye could see. There were multiple couples making out on the floor. Few were even as close as putting on an exhibitionism act. You were thoroughly entertained as you finished your first drink.

“Want another?” Taehyung asked.

“Of course, darling,” you nodded.

Your waitress was nowhere in sight. Taehyung was about to get up and search for her when you spotted her out of the corner of your eye. She was making a beeline for your booth with a tray of shots in hand.

“Shots on the house,” she said curtly as placed the tray on the table.

Both of you shared a bewildered look. There were six shots on the tray, with 3 pairs of brightly colored drinks. You smiled, realizing Mina must have been behind this. She poured her life savings into establishing this club, and you were always there to support her. This was a small gesture of her appreciation.

You give Taehyung a devious smile as you hand him a yellow shot. He takes it, and you down your drinks together. It went down surprisingly smooth, despite the sour lemony tang.

Taehyung returns your devious smile with one of his own as he hands you another shot; this time it’s a blue one. This drink was on the sweeter side. You could barely taste the alcohol (which is always pleasant but dangerous).

You felt your cheeks warming up, and soon you were swaying to the music without even realizing it. You know you’re tipsy when you find yourself randomly swaying. You rest your head on Taehyung’s shoulder and plant a small kiss on his jawline.

“Come dance with me,” you whisper in his seductively in his ear.

“There’s a lot of people out there, babe. Let’s just drink here and watch,” Taehyung replied.

“But I wanna dance,” you whine, tugging at his shirt.

“We can dance when we get home,” Taehyung responded, gently taking hold of your hands.

“I wanna dance here! Fine, I’ll go dance by myself,” you say with disdain. You maintain eye contact with him as you drink your last shot. You give him one last frown before making your way to the dance floor.

You wandered into the middle of the crowd, getting lost in a sea of people. Once you found your own little space, your hips began to sway with the music. Your eyes were closed as you let your body lose itself to the music. You weren’t sure how you looked, but at this moment you couldn’t care less.

Dancing by yourself was fun, but also lonely. Your eyes opened as a pair of strong hands gripped your waist. You let the hands guide you as you were slowly being pulled into the person behind you. You looked across the dance floor to see Taehyung still in the booth, his eyes fixated on you.

You turned your head to see a man whose features rivaled those of Taehyung’s, a feat you didn’t think was possible. You look back at Taehyung, who is now leaning back in the booth as he waits for you to make your next move.

You smirk and stick your tongue out at him before taking the stranger’s hands in yours. You guide his hands up and down your body as you grind back against him. From what you could tell, the length in his pants was no joke. All the while, you never broke eye contact with Taehyung.

Taehyung licked his lips in amusement. His babygirl likes to play games huh? He couldn’t wait to teach you a lesson once you got home. He couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy you were dancing with, knowing that he was never going to have a chance with you.

As you were dirty dancing against this stranger, he began to kiss your neck. This was one of your most sensitive areas. You let out a gasp as you leaned into his kisses.

This brought Taehyung to his limit. The dancing and somewhat inappropriate touching was tolerable. But this? Hell no. No one could touch his baby like that except for him.

When your eyes met again, Taehyung pointed at his watch and mouthed “let’s go”. That triggered a sly smirk on your face. As an act of defiance, you turned around to face the stranger, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hi gorgeous, I’m Jungkook,” he yells into your ear.

“Hi Jungkook! I’m y/n. Nice to meet you,” you yell back.

You look back at the booth to find that Taehyung is out of sight. Panic starts to set in. Did he leave without you? Did you make him that mad?

Almost a second later, a strong grip clutches your wrist and pulls you off of Jungkook.

“Hey man what the fu--”

“We’re leaving. Now,” Taehyung says sternly, completely ignoring Jungkook.

He drags you across the dance floor, keeping you close to him. Your ears were ringing by the time you were outside of the club. Taehyung silently guides you back to the car, helping you get in before slamming the door shut. The drive back was silent until you spoke up.

“Did you have fun, darling?” you ask innocently.

Taehyung didn’t respond.

“Are you mad at me?” you pout, “It’s not my fault that you didn’t want to dance. Jungkook was nice enough to join me.”

“Oh so you’re on a first name basis with him? I’ll take you to your next date with him then,” Taehyung replied in an unamused tone.

“Aw don’t get pouty with me, darling,” you try to stroke his cheek, but he swats your hand away.

Taehyung pulls into the driveway. He helps you out of the car, not saying a word. He remains stoic until you get to the bedroom. You’re about to flop onto the bed when he grabs you by the wrist, spins you around, and pins you against the wall.

“Did you enjoy playing your little game, babygirl?” Taehyung places his leg between your thighs, “Did you enjoy teasing me like that?”

“Of course I did. You were finally paying attention to me,” you bat your eyes at him.

Taehyung tsked as he pinned your wrists above your head. He licks a hot stripe up your neck, causing you to moan.

“You see this? This is all mine. This neck. This body. This pussy. All of this. You’re all mine. And I’m never sharing,” Taehyung growls lowly as he peppers kisses all over you, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll have all of my attention tonight,” his hand slips under your skirt, pulling your panties aside.

Taehyung continues to kiss on your neck as he slowly teases your clit. He starts to rub it faster, applying more pressure. You started to grind against his hand, begging him for more. Taehyung roughly pushes you back against the wall, gripping your throat.

“You want more, babygirl? You’re gonna have to earn it after playing your little games today,” he growls in your ear, increasing his pace on your clit.

“Please, Tae. Please give me something. Anything. I just want you inside me,” you whimper against his neck.

Taehyung complies by slipping a finger inside you, simultaneously locking his lips with yours. He easily added another finger, causing you to moan against his mouth. He wouldn’t let you pull away to moan, as he interrupted you by dipping his tongue inside your open mouth.

Your legs started to tremble and it was getting harder to stand up. As soon as Taehyung realized that you were about to cum, he abruptly pulled out his fingers. You couldn’t help but angrily gasp when the feeling quickly slipped away. You were so close. Just a second longer and you would’ve orgasmed.

“Does my little baby not like being teased?” Tae cooed.

“Why are you being so mean?” you pout.

“You know why, you fucking brat. I could be really mean and not touch you for the rest of the night,” Taehyung licks his lips.

“No, please baby I need you,” you beg, desperation showing in your eyes, “I’ll be a good girl, I promise!”

“Strip and get on the bed,” Tae caved, smacking your ass when he released his grip on your wrists.

You quickly abandon your clothes, throwing them off in a careless manner. You eagerly watch Taehyung slowly undo his belt and untuck his shirt. He takes his time unbuttoning his shirt. He’s relishing the how needy you look as you patiently wait for him. He knows you love undressing him. But for tonight, as an added punishment, he undresses himself agonizingly slowly. His shirt is still on but fully unbuttoned and you started to whine.

You sit on the side of the bed with your legs hanging off. Your patience wears thin when you lift up your arms towards him and make grabbing motions with your hands. Tae’s prolonged teasing coupled with the denial of your orgasm has left you needier than usual. Taehyung couldn’t help but be amused by your subdued state. The brattiness has worn away for the night (but it’s sure to be back by the next day).

He finally makes his way towards you and leans in for a kiss. He cups your face with one hand and pulls you closer with the other. You legs wrap around him as the kiss deepens. Your hands palm at the bulge in his pants and start to unzip them, only to be slapped away.

“Nuh uh. I’m in charge tonight,” Taehyung breaks the kiss to say with a deep, lust filled voice.

He sucks on your neck as his hands play with your chest, his fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You arch your back in pleasure. Soft moans fill the air. Taehyung goes back to making out with you when you hear his zipper being undone. You slip off his shirt and now he’s almost as naked as you.

Taehyung slips a hand between your thighs to discover how wet you are. He wears a satisfied smirk on his face as he finally tugs off his underwear.

He rubs his length along your slick pussy, coating himself with your juices. You lock eyes and you can see the triumph in his eyes. As much as he loves pounding you into oblivion, teasing you is its own special reward. He loves the way you squirm under him, begging him for more.

“Being a good girl isn’t so hard, huh?” he says as he slowly pushed himself into you.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in pure bliss. You let out a low moan when he finally bottomed out. He took his time pulling out of you, only to shock you when he slammed back into you. You yelped at the sudden but welcomed change of pace. He continued this new form of teasing for a bit. He would harshly slam into you, only to slowly remove himself. It left you wanting more. You started to whine in protest.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Taehyung cooed.

“Please stop teasing me. I need you to fuck me Tae. Fuck me hard,” you begged.

Taehyung complied. His pace quickened as he forcefully bucked into you. You couldn’t help but squeal out in pure bliss. One of Taehyung’s hands snaked its way up to your neck, placing a firm grip on it. The other hand started toying with your clit.

Taehyung loved seeing you like this. His precious baby looking so naughty under him. He knew how much you loved it when he choked you. You were moaning so sweetly for him. You could barely keep your eyes open as he drilled into you.

Taehyung slipped out of you and roughly flipped you over onto your knees. You sank onto your chest, propping your ass out for him. This was yet another sight that Taehyung relished. He harshly slapped your ass before pounding into you.

You were crying out even louder now. Even Taehyung had a hard time controlling his groans. Usually he was a silent but strong type because he loved listening to you. But you heard his low grunts and groans mix with your lewd moans. You reached between your thighs to rub your clit as Taehyung took you closer to the edge.

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whimper as your legs start to shake.

“Cum for me, y/n,” Taehyung huffed, you could tell he was close too.

You let yourself go, feeling the sweet release overtake your body. It wasn’t long after that when Taehyung came inside you. His hot liquids filled you up, causing you to moan out.

Taehyung left to get a rag to clean you up with. He returned to find you curled up into a ball, nearly asleep. You felt a warm damp cloth wipe away the mess you created together. You reached out for Taehyung, pulling him towards you.

“Was that enough attention for you, babygirl?” Taehyung asked, stroking your hair.

“Mmhm, I’m hap,” you snuggled him.

“Good. You’re such a brat. But I love you anyway,” he kisses your forehead.

“I love you too, Taehyung,” you reach up to kiss him sweetly before resting your head on his chest as you both succumb to slumber.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #btswritingcafe #bts pwp #kim taehyung pwp #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #taehyung x reader

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fablesrose · 3 years

Text

Drunk on the Memories

Summary: Eliot gets drunk with an old friend, before he even joined the military, they insist on singing to each other

Word count: 1805

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Fem!Reader

Square filled: Drunken Confession

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

Warnings: Talk of war, drinking (obv)

Songs: I Wanna be in the Cavalry by Corb Lund, I Wanna be in the Cavalry Reprise by Corb Lund, Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd

A/n: this is for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo, I did cut out a verse or two on the first too songs to keep it shorter and less graphic but I really enjoyed writing this, so enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you drunk enough yet?”

I shook my head and knocked back another drink, “Now I am, you?”

Eliot took a large swig of whiskey right from the bottle, “Hand me the guitar.”

I passed it to him with a smile. He grunted and strummed it a couple of times, grumbling that it was out of tune. He started turning the knobs to change the pitch of the strings and my mind drifted to the last time I had heard him sing.

It was years ago, we were both young, broke, and stupid as hell. His one brain cell was telling him to join the military, so that’s what he did. He was being deployed the next morning, so all of our friends and family gathered round a fire, passed the booze around, and insisted on having a swell time. It got to the point where we were drunk enough to do anything, so someone shoved a guitar into Eliot’s hands and told him to put on one last show.

He laughed but started to sing all the same.

“I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

I wanna good steed under me like my forefathers before

I wanna good mount when the bugle sounds and I hear the cannons' roar

I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war.”

Everybody quieted down to listen to him. It was an upbeat song, but it settled in that he was going to war. And with a voice like his, how could you not listen?

“I wanna horse in the volunteer force that's riding forth at dawn

Please save for me some gallantry that will echo when I'm gone

I beg of you sarge let me lead the charge when the battle lines are drawn

Lemme at least leave a good hoof beat they'll remember loud and long”

Wolf whistles rose from our group as the energy picked back up again. His face was smiling, young, and full of joy.

“I'd not a good foot soldier make, I'd be sour and slow at march

And I'd be sick on a navy ship, and the sea would leave me parched

But I'll be first in line if they'll let me ride, by god, you'll see my starch

Lope back o'er the heath with the laurel wreath underneath that vict'ry arch”

We laughed. He stood and we cheered him on as he danced around the fire and wove through us. I became mesmerized by him as his voice seemed to light up the area as much as the fire, and warmed me the same amount. Before I knew it he was singing the last verse.

“Let 'em play their flutes and stirrup my boots and place them back to front

For I won't be back on the rider-less black (jack) and I'm finished in my hunt

I wanna be in the cavalry if I must go off to war

I wanna be in the cavalry, but I won't ride home no more”

I was pulled out of my trance as the Eliot before me started to sing, similarly drunk, but different in every other way.

“I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

I wanna good steed under me like my forefathers before

“Courageous at first we took their worst, our positions we held stout

We clung to belief and we hung on the speech from our trusted leaders' mouths

Overwhelming odds and a hopeless cause and our cities overrun

There were them that said we was badly led and God were we outgunned”

When we met earlier he seemed okay, happy even, but with the alcohol came a weariness that only someone who had seen too much could hold. His hands were precise and aged, far from the man I knew that was young and quick, but they still held the same grace with the music.

“I lost count of the worthy mounts that from under me were cut

My favourite mare with her head in the air took the cannons in her gut

In the first two weeks on that bloody creek my brother lost his arm

Was only sixty days till all we prayed was get us home unharmed”

My heart ached as I remembered similar prayers that left my lips, prayers for peace, for safety, for an end of the pain, anyway necessary at points. I could tell that more feeling was in this version of the song then the one I remembered so long ago. That every word that flowed from his mouth was a more of a memory.

“O for the day that we signed our names and the well that we were wished

The men's congrats and the pats on the backs and the ladies that we kissed

The band that played and the grande parade and the patriotic shouts

All faded fast, didn't even last till the uniforms wore out

“We were finally forced to feed on horse and carcass we could scrounge

When the wagons stopped and we'd burnt their crops to charred and barren ground

With morale in doubt and our pride run out no honour did I see

All I seen were a thousand dreams piled dead in front of me

“I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

I wanna be in the cavalry, but I won’t ride home no more.”

The apartment echoed the reverberations of the strings. I felt myself sway a little before I grabbed onto the counter with a clap. The alcohol was stirring up some unwelcome feelings in the silence.

“Come on little filly, I believe it’s your turn.”

I chuckled, shaking away the previous emotions, “Fine.”

I grabbed the ukulele that was laid on the floor by the counter.

He laughed, “You still play that thing? What are you gonna sing? Somewhere Over the Rainbow?”

I shook my head, “Yes, as a matter of fact I do still play this thing, and no I won’t be singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

I did think about it. I will admit that, though only to myself. Instead, I chose something that I remembered. Something familiar. Maybe the alcohol had something to do with it.

I strummed the strings, making sure it sounded right before plucking out a tune.

“So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from hell?

Blue skies from pain?

Can you tell a green field

From a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?”

I felt my eyes water. I kept telling myself I drank too much. It was the alcohol making me emotional, but I knew that was only part of it. It’s been years since I last saw Eliot. We had led different lives, but somehow we still ended up here, more similar than we would have thought.

“Did they get you to trade

Your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

Did you exchange

A walk-on part in the war

For a leading role in a cage?”

Eliot’s face was blank, cold. Maybe he was lost in some memories of his own this time. I blinked away the wet eyes and focused back on the strings under my fingertips.

“How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

What have we found?

The same old fears

Wish you were here.”

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut.

“That was real pretty.”

I smiled bitterly, “Why thank you, you aren’t so bad yourself.”

“What made you pick that song?”

I poured myself another drink, “What made you pick yours?”

He paused, not expecting the question.

“Memories.”

I smiled and nodded, “Me too.” I moved to take a sip, when I hesitated and placed it back down, anymore and I would be sick. “You know, I sang that song to myself every time I missed you.”

“So once every couple of years?”

“Everyday sometimes.”

There was a pause between us.

“It almost hurt worse when I saw you afterwards, because I would still sing it. Because you still weren’t here with us, not really. Now here we are, both drunk as hell, both got dirt, probably more on our hands, and I’m singing it to you.”

I touched my face to find the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Now what does that say about me?” I wiped my face and sniffed, trying to compose myself again.

Eliot slid off his stool and stood between my knees, “It means that you’re still that same girl I left in that small and dusty town.”

I scoffed, “We both know that’s not entirely true.”

His hands came up to my face, “Sure it is, you’re still strong, beautiful, caring, and the best friend I could barely hope for.”

His hands were warm on my jaw, rough, but soothing. I couldn’t help but whisper, “What if I told you I wanted to be more than friends?”

He took a step closer to the point where I could feel his breath on my face. I looked up at him, still a little taller than me even on the stool.

“What if I told you I wanted to kiss you?”

“I’d tell you I feel the same.”

“Me too.”

He dipped his head to my lips. He tasted of the whiskey we’d been drinking, but maybe the taste of my last shot was just lingering on my tongue. His hands drifted to the back of my neck, his fingertips caressing my scalp. I found myself gripping his shoulder and forearm, trying to keep myself anchored. Eliot took another step that pushed my stool backwards. Now my back was against the counter and Eliot’s chest was pressed against mine.

We paused for a moment with our eyes closed and foreheads pressed together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” I could feel the vibrations in his chest as he spoke, and I let out a sigh.

“Yeah.”

Eliot’s hands softly untangled from my hair and drifted over my shoulders, down my back and traced my waist. He slipped them under my thighs and lifted me up onto the counter, pushing the stool underneath and out of the way. He didn’t make a sound as he wrapped is arms around me, burying his face in my neck.

I ran my hands through his long hair, holding him close. Eventually he left soft kisses on my neck, leading up to my jaw, before leaving one more on my lips.

“You don’t have to sing that song alone anymore, I’m here.”

“Yeah, you are. You rode home. You rode home to me.”

Best Buds: @snarky--starky @kitkatd7 @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

#Eliot Spencer x reader #leverage #eliot spencer #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #make me feel bingo #fluff #angst #drunken confession #drinking #fluffy ending

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slashersins · 4 years

Text

how you met thomas . . .

part two

( part one ) ( part three ) ( part four ) ( part five ) ( part six )

you tried not to stare . tried being the key word . but it was hard when he was so close . you’d never seen such a perfect example of a home grown country boy . the boys back home , the farm hands and ranchers . . . they all tried to act like they were big and strong . as big and strong as the man who knelled next to you just a few feet away . but not one of those boys could compare . so you couldn’t stop staring .

thomas was completely and utterly aware that you were watching him . he knew the feeling . he knew that he was too large . too scary . too . . . he knew . but knowing what he was didn’t make it okay to stare . and the more you did the more nervous he felt . he tensed , hunched over , as he shot a glance to you , a slight glare in his eyes . but instead of looking away like he’d thought you would , you just smiled and waved slightly . acknowledging him . acknowledging that you were watching him . and then you looked away . it was . . . it seemed so shy . and then you glanced back at him from under your lashes , a small smile on your face and a small puff of laughter . laughter that wasn’t harmful at all . it made thomas flush . and it made him drop the jar of preserves he’d been attempting to put on the shelf .

the sound startled thomas out of his stupor and he grunted in aggravation at the mess of glass and sticky jam on the floor . with a huff of embarrassment , not daring to look in your direction in fear of seeing you laugh at his mistake , thomas reached for the broken shards . he’d toss it in the trash and clean up the mess and then leave . but lost in his thoughts as he was , he gripped a shard too tight and hissed at it cut into the flesh of his palm .

“ oh tommy ! you done went and hurt yourself ! you stay there i’ll fetch some bandages . don’t worry about the mess , tommy . ” thomas grunted and nodded , head still down as he tried to wipe the stinging , bleeding cut on his dirty pants . he didn’t hear you come over . he didn’t realize you were so close , and the jerked when he felt small hands take his injured one .

“ that looks like it hurts . sorry , i didn’t mean to startle you . um , let’s try and get this cleaned up . i don’t think jam is good for fresh cuts . ” the soft smile on your face had thomas stop breathing for a moment . you were close . so close , and holding his hand . soft and warm against his rough scarred and calloused hand . “ here . lemme just . . . ”

thomas stayed there . stuck in place . eyes wide as you moved to get the water you’d been drinking . as you took his hand back in your own and poured the cool liquid over his hand . “ might need to wipe some off . . . well , my shirt’s kinda clean . . . ” you gave a small laugh , pouring water over the bottom half of your shirt and using it to wipe at thomas’ hand . “ this might sting a little , but if i put pressure it should stop bleeding so much . i’m sorry if it hurts . ”

thomas nodded , giving a small grunt when you applied pressure . but he really wasn’t feeling much pain . no , he was too consumed with how you were treating him . his head swam with unknown emotions at what was happening . no one save his family treated him gently . and even then he hand’t been treated this gently since he was a child . yet here you were , a stranger , kneeling next to him , tending a small insignificant wound . dirtying your own clean shirt with his blood . using your drinking water to clean the cut . he was in shock at it . and so was luda

she’d come back just as you wet your shirt and cleaned off tommy’s hand . and bless her heart she nearly gave out right there from the sight . she stayed watching , the wheels turning in her mind . you were definitely not going to be made into dinner . not if she had anything to say about it and she had plenty to say . and from the way tommy was looking at you , luda knew that her son wouldn’t have the heart to put you on the butchering table . coming back to her senses she cleared her throat .

“ thank you for tendin’ to tommy , darlin’ . now tommy get over here and let your momma look at your hand . i wanna make sure the cut’s not too deep . ”

you both looked up , you smiling and nodding to luda giving a soft , “it’s no problem miss luda mae . just wanted to make sure he’s okay . ” luda gave you a smile back before gesturing to tommy to come closer .

feeling a bit guilty for the whole situation , after all if you hand’t been staring and distracting thomas then he might not have dropped that jar and hurt himself in the first place , you started cleaning up the mess , careful not to cut yourself as you placed the broken glass and sticky jam in a small trash can you found near where you’d been sitting .

“ thomas . ” her voice was a whisper , serious in tone and firm . “ you ain’t gonna let hoyt or monty do nothing to them , you understand . they’re a good nice folk . kind too . so you’re gonna make sure they’re kept safe , ya hear . ” thomas nodded , brows furrowed as he listened to his momma’s instructions . he glanced back at you , blinking and jerking his head for luda to see that you were cleaning up the mess on the floor . “ you see , tommy ? precious thing . gotta keep that little darlin’ safe . ” luda sighed , a happy look on her face that turned mischievous as she glanced down at her son’s cut hand and the first aid supplies near her .

“ darlin’ ? you mind coming over here and tending to tommy’s hand again ? i’m getting shaky in my old age and i don’t wanna go hurtin’ my boy any more than i have to . ”

“ yes , ma’am . i don’t mind . lemme just rinse my hands off real quick . ”

“ now , honey , you ain’t need to do all that . ” luda huffed playfully , as she leaned back from the counter . she hummed when you got closer , pretending to busy herself with something else behind the counter as you took hold of tommy’s hand again .

it was easy to bandage his hand , putting antibiotic ointment on the cut and blowing on it in hopes to get it to clot faster . there almost wasn’t enough wrapping to cover his hand , just barely enough and it made you smile . “ you’re hand’s so big . i might’ve had to use my shirt to get you all wrapped up . ” you laughed some , smiling up in such a sweet way that thomas knew there was no malice in your joke . he only nodded , too lightheaded from the entire interaction to do more than that .

“ well , you’re all set , thomas . if i can call you that . is - is it okay ? or do you like tommy better ? or should i call you mr thomas ? ” he blinked at you , raising a brow when you offered to call him mr thomas , and shook his head .

“ so thomas or tommy ? ” he nodded , and you flashed him a goofy smile . “ all right then thomas , you’re all patched up now . so i uh , i guess i should probably be headed out . . . sorry about . . . distracting you and you cutting your hand i . . . um, and thank you miss luda mae , for the drinks and jerky . i think i’ll have be stopping by on my way back . ”

luda looked up at that , thomas tensed . his fingers twitching and ready to reach out to keep you in the shop if his momma gave a signal .

“ that’d be nice , you stopping by on your way back . but i don’t think i got the heart to let you go an run off with your shirt all filthy like that . you said your truck ain’t got no coolin’ right ? how about you come over for dinner tonight ? i’ll get that shirt cleaned up for you and my brother can take a look at your truck . he’s was a mechanic back in the day . plus i’m sure tommy wouldn’t mind a short drive home . a little break from walkin. ” she smiled , motherly and sweet . it was her hope you’d be too polite to turn her offer down .

“ i wouldn’t want to impose ! it’s - i - um . okay . yes . yes , ma’am . i’d really appreciate that miss luda . as long as it’s not a hassle . ”

“ nonsense . ain’t nothing feeding another mouth . be kind to your neighbor and such . now tommy’ll tell you how to get to the house , just be careful on the road now . i’ll be there a little bit ‘fore dark to get dinner cookin’ . you just make yourself at home . ”

with a flustered look , you nodded . it almost felt like luda was mothering you , which you suppose she was . you smiled over at thomas , shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh at the mess you’d gotten yourself into . “ well , i guess i’m staying for dinner . you ready to - wait . you didn’t finish stocking the shelves . here , i’ll help and - ”

“ none of that now . you two get off and head on to the house . shoo . i might be old but i’m not useless , i can stock it myself . go on . ”

you couldn’t hold back your laughter at her stern tone , bumping your shoulder into thomas’ arm playfully . “ you’re momma is one of a kind , thomas . and bossy . ” there’s a glint of playfulness in your eyes . thomas only lifts a brow and shakes his head . huffing , even if he did agree with you .

“ oh , and darlin’ don’t mind it if tommy don’t talk . he ain’t much of a speaker , but he’ll listen to you well enough . y’all go on now , don’t make me chase you outta here with a broom . ”

“ yes ma’am , miss luda ! ” you laugh again , gently tugging on thomas’ arm to get him towards the outside and your truck . he follows in a half stupor , not exactly knowing what to do as everything just happened so fast . he doesn’t even remember getting into the truck , almost jumping out of his seat when the engine roars to life .

“ oh ! i haven’t even told you my name yet ! i’m sorry ! i’m y/n . it’s nice to meet you thomas . ” you offer a hand and a smile . and he takes in both before wrapping his larger , uninjured , hand around yours for a quick shake . “ so . . . which way is home ? ”

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt imagine #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #slasher #slashers #slashers x reader #how you met thomas

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slashersins-abandoned · 3 years

Text

how you met thomas

part two .

part one . part three . part four . part five . part six .

you tried not to stare . tried being the key word . but it was hard when he was so close . you’d never seen such a perfect example of a home grown country boy . the boys back home , the farm hands and ranchers … they all tried to act like they were big and strong . as big and strong as the man who knelled next to you just a few feet away . but not one of those boys could compare . so you couldn’t stop staring .

thomas was completely and utterly aware that you were watching him . he knew the feeling . he knew that he was too large . too scary . too … he knew . but knowing what he was didn’t make it okay to stare . and the more you did the more nervous he felt . he tensed , hunched over , as he shot a glance to you , a slight glare in his eyes . but instead of looking away like he’d thought you would , you just smiled and waved slightly . acknowledging him . acknowledging that you were watching him . and then you looked away . it was … it seemed so shy . and then you glanced back at him from under your lashes , a small smile on your face and a small puff of laughter . laughter that wasn’t harmful at all . it made thomas flush . and it made him drop the jar of preserves he’d been attempting to put on the shelf .

thomas stayed there . stuck in place . eyes wide as you moved to get the water you’d been drinking . as you took his hand back in your own and poured the cool liquid over his hand . “ might need to wipe some off … well , my shirt’s kinda clean … ” you gave a small laugh , pouring water over the bottom half of your shirt and using it to wipe at thomas’ hand . “ this might sting a little , but if i put pressure it should stop bleeding so much . i’m sorry if it hurts . ”

“ thank you for tendin’ to tommy , darlin’ . now tommy get over here and let your momma look at your hand . i wanna make sure the cut’s not too deep . ”

“ darlin’ ? you mind coming over here and tending to tommy’s hand again ? i’m getting shaky in my old age and i don’t wanna go hurtin’ my boy any more than i have to . ”

“ yes , ma’am . i don’t mind . lemme just rinse my hands off real quick . ”

“ so thomas or tommy ? ” he nodded , and you flashed him a goofy smile . “ all right then thomas , you’re all patched up now . so i uh , i guess i should probably be headed out … sorry about … distracting you and you cutting your hand i … um, and thank you miss luda mae , for the drinks and jerky . i think i’ll have be stopping by on my way back . ”

luda looked up at that , thomas tensed . his fingers twitching and ready to reach out to keep you in the shop if his momma gave a signal .

“ i wouldn’t want to impose ! it’s - i - um . okay . yes . yes , ma’am . i’d really appreciate that miss luda . as long as it’s not a hassle . ”

“ none of that now . you two get off and head on to the house . shoo . i might be old but i’m not useless , i can stock it myself . go on . ”

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt imagine #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher imagine #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

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bakugous-bbygirl · 4 years

Text

~Social media boyfriend~

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

There needs to be more quarantine stories. Like come onnn we’re all stuck together anyway. That’s why I’m doing the public justice of giving us more fan fiction that’s current to the times. Please enjoy!

Warning: swearing. That’s it really.

Being stuck at home was really getting to everyone and it was pretty clear. From almost finishing your second year to having to do your third year at home. You didn’t even want to know how your hero course was gonna go. But now everyone is online all the time posting things they never would have if they got to go outside more.

You of course followed almost all your classmates on social media. Mostly twitter and Instagram, everything else was a little too much. You had your fair share of classmate followers so your posts were mostly pictures of everyone hanging out or weird selfies you took while half awake.

After reading one too many fanfics you opened Twitter to see a certain profile you liked scrolling through.

You have no clue why Bakugou had followed you one day but you figured it’s the poilte thing to follow back. After scrolling for an hour though you had pretty much summed up all of his account into a few words

Self centered music guy.

A lot of his tweets were just pictures of himself flexing in his mirror or screenshots of whatever his playlist consisted of with aggressive captions telling people to fuck off or listen to the song. Those pictures of his arms though. Ahh those hit differently.

You had a crush on the blonde since you started your first year however you didn’t think it shift into you calling him your online boyfriend and making constant tweets about him.

Nothing super obvious just the simple like “why can’t he love me back” or “when he learns I’m real it’s a wrap.” And on Instagram if it’s a cute photo of yourself your caption would consist of something like: “once my online boyfriend learns I’m desperate maybe we could cuddle” you know nothing weird or anything.

After scrolling through his twitter you found a old tweet that actually made you laugh. Like it was something actually funny. You figured kiri got ahold of his phone and posted it before Bakugou blew him up. It was a picture of Bakugou on his floor fixing his Grenade bracers with the tweet “he looks so cute all focused!”

You accidentally tapped the like button and didn’t even realize how weird that would’ve looked as you swiped out of the app. You went to your messages to text Mina since she always kept you busy durning these lonely days. “Hey crackhead you up yet? It’s almost 3 in the afternoon”

she replied pretty quick asking how you were and if you wanted her to FaceTime you. And who were you to turn down a chance to talk to your best friend?

After answering the call mina’s goofy pink face appeared on your screen while it looked like she was laying on her couch. “Hello!!” “Hey Mina.” You couldn’t help at smile how bubbly she is while talking to you. You figured her extroverted personality was put through the ringer being forced to stay at home. “Soooo how have you been? I see your keeping your social media pretty up to date with your creepy obsession with your online boyfriend?” You hold up your middle finger as you see her laugh “it’s not creepy. It’s the same as liking a famous person. You guys just don’t get to know who he is.” “Ooooo so he’s famous? That makes it totally normal.” You rubbed at your neck moving the phone from your face so she can’t see the Blush. “Well, kinda, not really, sorta..” you then noticed your phone vibrating that you got a new notification. “Oh hold up, I wanna check this.” “Oh no just ignore me as I try to find out who it is you love so much. I would really like to know someday” you waved her off with your hand going to your home screen, “you will one day. Hush up now.” You scrolled to the top of your screen to see your notifications and saw it was from twitter and it was someone wanted to message you, you played it off as Mina or one of your friends wanted to mess with you about a tweet you made early in the day or something. “What’s the point of messaging me when we’re on the phone?” You went back to the call to see Mina tilting her head like a bird “what do you mean? I didn’t message you?” “Oh, I figured it was you sending me something stupid on twitter. Lemme see who it is then.”

You opened twitter while half way listening to whatever story Mina felt like telling at that moment and noticed the message was actually Bakugou saying “what the fuck” “Oh it’s just Bakugou. Weird he normally doesn’t send me anything” you opened the message just as Mina said “maybe it’s him telling you what you tweeted was dumb or pointless? That’s normally what he does to me.” You laughed and saw he had sent a screenshot of a notification he got from you like a tweet from legit a year ago. You almost died. “Ahhhhhhh shit I gotta go minathanksforcallingbye!” And flat out hung up in her face. You couldn’t believe you were dumb enough to like the tweet. Why didn’t you notice? God you were stupid.

And what’s even worse you already opened the message and he could see you already read it so In a panick you just typed out some half ass reply acting as if you were confused “what? I didn’t do anything to you” you then texted Mina explaining how weird he probably thinks you are. “sooo Bakugou is mystery your online boyfriend and you got caught totally creepin?” You face turned red as you replied “I never said he was my crush!” “you posted on Instagram yesterday that sometimes you scroll through his account and read his old tweets. Get busted y/n.” You threw you phone away from you on the table and layed Your head into your pillows.

You were so caught. Almost all your tweets and posts from the last few months were you thirsting over this boy and showing how lonely you are durning this quarantine. You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if it was someone you were closer too, Like kirishima or denki. The fact Bakugou barely spoke with you durning your time in classes made it feel even weirder. How could you be so dumb to forget your one rule of being a simp. No liking old posts or tweets. Just saving the photo depending on what it is. That rule just got tossed out the window as you pushed your face tighter into the pillow. No way was he gotta think your cute or whatever after this.

The sound of your phone going off got your attention and you reached for it slightly hoping it was Mina with a way to get you out of this. However it was the dreaded online boyfriend messaging you again. “Don’t play dumber than you are dumbass. The fuck is with you liking my old tweets” You really didn’t have the best response so you came up with the best you could. “Mina had my phone. Sorry she was being weird.”

That was so dumb. You both knew good and well that no one was allowed to be around each other since this whole virus came out. Could this day get any worse? Yes. Yes it could shut up.

“Try again.” Was all he replied with but you could hear the smug in his voice. Like no way was he gonna not call you out for this. The only times he did speak to you was when he was being an ass and making fun of you. Or when he grabbed your hips and moved you out of his way. You always loved that because his hands trapped your figure so perfectly but decided it was better to keep that to yourself. You were fully ready to admit defeat. There were no more lies you could come up with on the spot. “alright look, I’m sorry if it’s weird. Honest mistake.” This was your last shot to keep your dignity after such a embarrassing day.

It actually took him a while to reply. You figured he was too busy to entertain your contuinus lies until you got a notification from Instagram saying Ground_Zer0 liked your post. You opened the app to see he liked the picture where your caption was you basically admitted you scrolled through his old tweets because he was your online boyfriend. Before your brain could kick you for posting that bold statement in the first place you got two more messages from him. He had screenshotted the picture and caption. “So gonna keep lying like I don’t follow your accounts” Yep. Mina was so right. You were busted. Nothing much was left to be said. You were caught simping on one of your classmates who was aiming to be the number one hero. Just great.

“You gonna reply or what dumbass” Here goes everything. No reason to keep your lies, nothing much to lose.

“Alright so yeah I’ve liked you for a while now, I don’t know what about you makes me like you so much but I always found you really cool. Your so passionate about wanting to do good it’s almost silly how mean you are to everyone. Your not all that ugly either so that helps or whatever.” You confidence found half way through texting him. Not like he could make fun of you to all your friends and school. He doesn’t seem like the guy. Right?

“Oh.” Oh. That’s all he has to say. What the shit. What type of reply is that! Here you are pouring your heart out and that’s all he says back! This was kinda worse than him laughing! You barely got a reaction at all! “So how long have you liked Me” you took a second to think of the least creepy answer, “I mean since the beginning of our second year, why?”

It wasn’t a whole lie. Like since you had liked him the beginning of last year too. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your emotions were clearly a wreck. From anger to slight confusion and embarrassment. What if he used this against you for real? Like you could never live down how much you really thought about him and wanted to be around him. It was pretty clear since you layed eyes on him you really cared about him.

“Well, I’ve liked you longer so I guess it’s my job to ask your dumbass out”

“Wanna be my girlfriend you weird stalker?”

You legit couldn’t believe it. You rubbed at your eyes for a good five minutes. Was he being serious? Was it a joke? You couldn’t think straight your head was so fuzzy “OI DONT LEAVE ME ON READ DUMBASS!” “If this is a way to make fun of me it isn’t very funny Bakugou.”

It seriously wasn’t funny. You knew for a while he felt nothing back for you, he never liked any of your posts or made much of an effort to even talk to you when you guys did attend school. He was clearly better friends with Mina since she even got messages from him, even if they were insults you would’ve taken what you could get. No way were you setting yourself up any more to get laughed at.

At that moment you got a FaceTime call from a number you didn’t have saved. You had no clue who it was. Against your better judgement you answered figuring that telemarketers don’t make FaceTime calls. What you got was a grumpy looking Bakugou staring at his screen. You could feel his eyes staring through you. You wanted to throw your phone so far it wasn’t even a joke. “Bout time dumbass.” He was layed out on his bed with a black wife beater hanging loosely on his body. You could tell he hasn’t moved from the bed in a while since the sheets and blankets were slightly messed up. “Now tell me. You see anyone else in my fucking room?” You shook your head in a confused manner, what was that question for? “Okay then. So it’s clear this isn’t a fucking joke. I like your dumb ass. Now will you please be my real girlfriend?” You stared at his face for any sort of sign it was still a joke.

But all you got was Bakugou blushing. Wait blushing? Seriously. That’s screenshot worthy. “I..well..w-wait we can’t even see each other?” You heard him grunt as a smirk appeared on his lips “if that’s your way of saying yes ain’t no stupid virus keeping me from kissing you like I’ve wanted to forever now.” “N-no way! You’ll get in trouble! Or sick!” Your face filled with heat as his words flowed so confidently. Like he knew all this time this is everything he’s ever wanted to say to you. “Did you not hear me? No virus is keeping me from you or getting me sick. Just let me say your mine stupid! I won’t fucking ask again.” “Y-yeah! O-okay I’ll be your girlfriend!” Another smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn straight. Alright get ready I’ll be there soon.” After that he hung up.

“Wait what?! Don’t come! Hello? Ah shit.” You still couldn’t really believe that all this really happened. You just got a boyfriend. After accidentally liking his post. From a year ago. Wow. What luck! You opened Instagram to congratulate yourself by posting the screenshot you had snagged but saw that a certain someone had posted a screenshot of you looking all confused durning a FaceTime call.

The ass screenshotted you looking confused after he asked you if anyone else was in his room. You looked at the caption and it absolutely made you turn red

“Thanks for giving me her number pinky.”

P1nky commented “anytime! Get you some!”

You hate your friends. You do love them. But you seriously can’t stand them.

Thank you all for reading so much! Also thank you for the 100 followers! I appciate it a lot and it gives me more reason to keep writing!

#my hero academia #mha #boko no hero academia #bnha bakugou #bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #coronavirus #covidquarantine #covidー19 #x reader #mina ashido

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

our love will (never) end

pairing: dogma / reader

word count: 3414

summary: all you wanted was for dogma to come back home but you don’t recognize the broken man that comes off the ship coming straight from umbara.the next time he sees you, he doesn’t recognize you either.

warnings: implied canon typical violence, angst af, umbara happened, lemme know if smth was missed

a/n: don’t say i didn’t warn y’all. no beta just me drinkin’ my dumb bitch juice

you’d spent more than half your life around the clones, had become used to their presence since your mother was recruited to train them in combat. had even helped with the youngest ones when they were fresh from their tubes, washing the fluids from them before wrapping them in their first set of clothes. the clones had become your brothers and friends, and they were much better company than the longnecks that occupied tipoca city.

once you were old enough, you joined them in their training. you learned their battle techniques, the subtle languages they spoke without uttering a word, you were one of them.

that’s why the losses sustained at the battle of geonosis, the first true test on the training they spent their lives surrounded by, wounded you so deeply.

days after the battle you were able to weasel your way into the records kept by the longnecks. it took you nearly hours to finish scanning the holo list of numbers, and only seconds for the grief to thrum through your veins, to settle into your bones. so many of your friends were lost that day, many that you had given names to, and your shoulders were aching under the weight of a loss that substantial.

then they were assigned to generals, jedi that probably wouldn’t care about who they were as men, as living beings with hearts and minds and souls that were far more different than the origins of their creation led people to believe. kamino had never been so empty as it had been once battalions were formed and assignments given, thousands of soldiers being sent to war.

the solemn emptiness took some getting used to, as did the togruta jedi sent to kamino to oversee the functioning of the cloning facility. she was kind though, and none of the clones appeared afraid of her so she was okay in your book. the one thing that you had yet to get used to was the fear you’d see in the eyes of a clone before their first assignment.

even though this is what they were raised to do, was what they were told by the longnecks was their only purpose (it was banthashit and you never hesitated to express as much), there was still a residual fear because they had seen brothers come back from the battlefield. they also knew that not all of them returned to their battalions once they left the front lines.

this knowledge was common, and there were many secrets told to you by long dead men about things that would have gotten them into trouble with immeasurable consequences. things they did to pass the time, things that made them happy like singing or writing poetry. it didn’t take you long after bonding with the clones as a young child that you realized that you were different than them, that you were lucky to be able to play and smile and be a child.

you lamented this discovery to your mother once. all she said was that the soldiers were dealt a shit hand by the galaxy and that they were lucky to have you to make it better for them. then she would tell you bedtime stories and fairy tales she knew good and well that you would relay to your identical brothers young and old.

but these days, you weren’t allowed to show the clones that kindness, that silliness that you were able to have with your brothers all those years ago. you were an adult now, and as such you would soon be expected to aid in the training of the republic’s soldiers despite a lack of actual outside world experience. you hadn’t left kamino since you arrived here as a child and had never used your training in a real-life situation.

what if you failed them? what if you taught something wrong and it resulted in their CT number being the next to show up on the lists of casualties? you were quaking with fear at the trust being placed in you.

which is why you were sitting outside during the kind of downpour kamino was known for, each raindrop heavier than your heart. no bother was given to your sopping wet state nor to the fact you’d get sick from this.

then you were joined in the rain by a familiar form.

“your immune system isn’t made to withstand this weather for very long.” some would have thought him to be uncaring, even callous and dickish with his words, but not you. this was the way he showed he cared about you — very seldom with those exact words, and never in a way where someone he didn’t want to know could see that he cared.

your eyes flitted up to his before returning their focus on the crashing waves around you. “my heart wasn’t made to withstand you leaving me.”

he sank to the ground beside you, the sound of his breathing being heard once he removes his helmet and lays it down beside his sitting form. an arm finds itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, a gentle kiss being placed against your rain-slick temple.

his touch warms you from your nose to the tips of your toes in spite of the cold rain pouring down. it was something he was able to do effortlessly and it never failed to bring a smile to your face. “i’m never truly gone, cyare. you’ll always be able to find me no matter where i am in the galaxy.”

a gloved hand found your shaking ones, his thumb smoothing over the top of your hand in an attempt to quell the shaking. you squeeze it in thanks and let yourself be pulled into his lap by it, your face quick to nuzzle into his neck.

“promise me you’ll be safe, dogma.”

“of course, my love.”

when he joined the five-oh-first comms were as frequent as possible, and when you weren’t able to talk to him, your eyes would be glued to the casualty reports that made their way to kamino. his number was never among the most of the dead, thank the stars, and that knowledge would sustain you until he would finally have the chance to talk to you again.

it was late into the night cycle when your private channel beeped, signifying an incoming call from dogma.

“that last mission… it was rough, cyare. i’m sorry i couldn’t comm you sooner.”

“never apologize, i know it’s not easy out there.”

dogma could never grow tired of the way you were so patient for him, for the things he did day in and day out. it made what he was about to say even harder for him.

“this next mission isn’t going to have any free time, we’re being sent planetside on umbara within two rotations. i don’t know how long the planetary takeover will last, but there won’t be a moment where we’re not unconscious or fighting. i won’t be able to talk for a while, my light. please understand.” he sounded almost in tears, like there was a lump in his throat trying to keep the words from escaping, to keep from hurting you.

you didn’t like to hear him like that. your strong and brave dogma crippled by emotion was never a comforting experience, especially when you couldn’t hold him and guide him out of the dark spaces his mind crawled into.

“never feel guilty for doing your duty, for keeping your brothers safe. just be sure you come home to me when your duty is done.”

“i’ll always come home to you, i swear it.”

the longnecks were in a tizzy three days later, rambling about a defect on the front lines. the sounds of a panicked kaminiise was not a sound you thought you’d ever hear again after what happened on christophsis. you eavesdropped plenty but you could never catch a CT number or a planet or a battalion name which infuriated you to no end. it was time to check the most recent records to see if you could find something there.

the morning cycle was minutes from beginning when you made your way to an unrestricted holoscreen where several reports were pulled up. your eyes scanned the writing; there was the familiar list of the dead, several more numbers sending waves of grief to crash against your soul.

information about how three members of the five-oh-first defied orders and flew umbaran ships in a successful attempt to destroy the separatist ship giving supplies to the enemy, and the death of one of the troopers involved in the unsanctioned air raid, one ct-6969 — hardcase. another wave crashed against your weary heart and was beginning to turn your insides into a hurricane that kamino’s oceans could only dream of rivaling.

there were details about the botched execution of two clones who defied the aforementioned direct orders from a general pong krell, ct-27-5555 and ct-5597 — fives and jesse.

pong krell wasn’t dogma’s general, wasn’t the general of the boys in blue. that was anakin skywalker and dogma spoke highly of his jedi general the few times he was brought up in conversations. pong krell, even though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the besalisk in person, knew of his reputation.

he was cruel and vicious, using the lives of those under his command as rungs on his own ladder of wartime success. many of the brothers you loved perished under his commands and his name was an eyesore.

most jarring was the depiction of how a clone shot general pong krell in the back, and how the clone’s sentence was to be decided upon once they arrived on kamino.

that meant one of three things: euthanization, reconditioning, and experimentation followed by one of the former options. none of them are by any means pleasant, but you hoped for that trooper’s sake that they were allowed peace no matter their offenses.

but now one question remained: who killed the jedi general? why was his CT number not mentioned in the files? you had to talk to dogma, to make sure he was safe, that he was finding healthy ways to grieve the loss of hardcase, to cope with everything this report says occurred on the shadow planet.

“i know you said you wouldn’t be able to talk while on umbara but i just read the reports sent to the longnecks. i’m scared and i need to hear your voice for a second, just a second, please.”

“i heard about hardcase,” you sniffled and swallowed your grief for one of your dearest friends in the name of supporting your beloved. “what him and jesse and fives did… the death of the jedi. please answer me, i need to know you’re okay.”

“you know i wouldn’t ask this of you any other time, but please give me something, tell me you’re alive! tell me you survived the carnage of pong krell!”

“dogma, answer me please! you’re scaring me!”

“ner kar’ta, please don’t make me add you to my remembrances. please, dogma, don’t make me do it…”

“dogma… ni kart’ayl darasuum.”

fitful sleep came with you clutching your commlink against your heart, tears falling like rain. there was a good chance that maybe he was mangled beyond recognition, or maybe they haven’t noticed he was missing yet. there had to be a reason dogma wasn’t on the list of the lost and why he hadn’t answered you.

then your commlink crackled you life. “who is this and how do you know dogma?”

did fate exist only to torment you? that’s what it felt like in this moment.

“i’m not answering any questions until you tell me where he is and how you found that commlink.”

logic told you that the person on the other end was indeed a clone, but your mind was too jumbled for you to recognize who it was. you had to clean up the mess your love left behind you and dogma, anything to keep him from punishment.

“the name’s fives, the comm was confiscated when we… when we had to court martial him for disobedience.”

disobedience? dogma? those words may start with the same letter but they couldn’t be more juxtaposed if the words themselves put effort into it. then your mind reminds you of details from that karking report and you suddenly feel like you had been tossed into the roaring waves below you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

the arc trooper grew enraged in his grief, in the horrors of what he saw on umbara and the audacity you had to accuse him of hurting his brother. “he did it to himself! he did it to protect us all from that demagolka even though no one ordered him to! when no one had the courage to do it, not even rex!”

what did your cyare do? your heart was in denial of the ideas your brain supplied because now they were leading to the same place.

“was he the one that killed krell?”

silence.

“fives! was he the one to-“

“yes! kriff, it was him! he’s the one who did it!”

dogma remembers the besalik’s traitorous admission and the way he manipulated dogma for his own benefit, to divide his brothers enough to keep them from revealing his plan. the way he and the five-oh-first fired on their own brothers, how their own brothers fired on them. naive death caused by what dogma discovered was the blind loyalty he heard others talk about when it came to following orders.

he remembers the feeling of the bracers around his wrist as he was escorted to the laat, the nods from his brothers as they give him respect he isn’t sure he earned for killing the man who caused them so much suffering.

the only thing that his mind doesn’t bring to his attention is the commlink that was stripped from him when taken into the umbaran cell, the only means of communicating with you without taking immeasurable risk.

he’s halfway to kamino by the time his mind registers that it isn’t with him and it’s the first true fear he’s felt since he was led into the cell by his own brothers and krell revealing how he manipulated every last one of them.

his thoughts drifted to what would become of him once he returned to the planet he was born on, the planet where he met the only sunshine he had to speak of on the shadow planet that sealed his fate. he hopes to see you before he’s punished for his actions but that’s uncertain. there’s no guarantee that you’re going to know he was returning, even more so under the circumstances that he’s coming back under.

there’s one certainty dogma has through all of this: he’s going to die on kamino. but if he’s able to see you in person and hold you in his arms one last time, then he’d accept death with open arms.

the last thoughts that run through his head as he’s being pulled from the ship and into longneck custody are of talking to you only days before, when things were still okay, when there wasn’t friendly fire instigated by a traitor, when dogma hadn’t killed a jedi.

his duty was in fact done, and he was coming home, but there was no guarantee that you would be part of that home, not after what he’s done.

you fail. despite the strength of your love and determination to find him, you don’t.

in all your years of finding longneck secrets and reading their reports, there was nothing on dogma. there was no record of his presence here and it was chilling. you knew the sorts of things that could be found in reports (and they were by no means pleasant), but if even these assholes weren’t going to keep digital record of it, it must be bad.

no one even saw the arrival of the ship dogma was carried in and there was no footage from any of the docks’ security cameras. your lover was a ghost, a wisp, a memory. even the cadets that dogma had known before he deployed (slightly older now, almost ready to be sent to the front lines) seemed to forget about their ori’vod.

it was as if dogma didn’t exist outside of your own head. like he was a figment of your imagination that you would conjure when the nights got lonely. you frequently drew his v tattoo in hopes of you keeping its pattern fresh in your mind because dogma deserved to be remembered. for his sacrifice, for his loyalty, for how deep his love ran not just for his brothers and the republic, but for you.

months flew by with endless searching, digging through files and scouring the base when no one was around. it was all in vain. dogma was no more; at least, not the dogma you knew.

you had found a new normal in your life on kamino. taking up the torch of training young cadets that your mother carried before you, doing your best to ensure their survival in a war built to destroy. dogma was carried with you always, but you stopped asking others about him, resigned to keeping him in your heart like a deep secret. what little hobbies one could find on the rainy planet were indulged as you tried to refill the time you allotted to talk to your cyare before he faded from the memories of his brothers.

since obtaining your new training role, many of the clones looked to you as an authority figure and not an equal. you were a superior now, and they treated you as such. there were no words in any language that you could find that could convey how uncomfortable you were with that, not when you had grown up with so many of them, had swaddled them when they emerged from their growth tanks.

although, there was one clone whom you called a friend these days that didn’t treat you with the same rigid respect his batchmates treated you with. his name was novak; he was kind and loyal and attentive, and if you squinted under the bright fluorescent lights you could see the faintest outline of a geometric v on his face.

that had to be your imagination playing tricks, you reasoned. you’re mostly sure you had seen that same shadow on the face of every clone in the days after dogma’s supposed return to kamino. then again, nowadays you only had this thought around him and no one else.

“got my assignment,” he told you one day over breakfast. “the 327th, under general secura and commander bly.”

“i hear she’s a great jedi, novak. you’ll be in good hands.”

he nods and hums in acknowledgement around a bite of food. there’s a look on his face that tells you he’s deep in thought and for a moment you think you’re looking at a ghost, but then his eyebrow ticks up and the illusion fades.

“my squad and i, we’ll be headed to felucia. and i, uh, wanted to ask you something before you left.” his demeanor changes. before he was casual, relaxed, and you had no idea what switch flipped that now had him fidgety and with the beginnings of a stutter. “could i… could i possibly comm you while i’m there? my batchmates are gone, and i don’t really have anyone else i want to talk to. but if that’s something you’re not comfortable with then you don’t have to do anything i wouldn’t want to cross any bound-”

a finger pressed to his lips ends his rambling. “novak, i would like that a lot.”

it took two weeks.

novak spent two weeks on felucia before he and most of his squad were either killed by droids or devoured by the various flora and fauna of the jungle planet.

the trooper’s last thoughts were of you.

he had been having dreams about you for months. they were of late night conversations through holo about things he had no memory of. time spent in the kamino rains holding each other tight as if letting go would be the end of life as you knew it. the love for you that seemed to have appeared overnight. you would never know these things, and novak regretted that until his last breath.

#dogma x reader #clone trooper dogma #dogma #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #swtcw #star wars angst #this is so sad #angst #wow this is painful #y'all thought 'homesick song' was bad #just you wait #i'm prepared to be fought

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff.

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget.

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement.

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier.

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs.

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child.

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands.

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother.

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement.

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment.

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd.

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over.

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.”

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie.

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors.

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper.

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous.

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls.

“ Millennium Falcon playset.”

“ You and a million other little boys. “

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face.

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street. “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity.

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #frankie morales x you #francisco morales imagine #frankie morales imagines #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier imagines #catfish imagine #catfish x reader #catfish x you #jos2020xmasspecial

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eyitsroseau · 3 years

Text

Across the World Part 3 (Dr. Xeno dad! x Reader) Dr. Stone fanfic | A mini-series

In which you found out you were pregnant pre-petrification to your long time boyfriend NASA scientist, Xeno. However, when you told him the news, he wanted nothing to do with it because his top priority is his research. Hurt, you decided to find refuge and start anew in the country you have always wanted to live in, Japan. Post-petrification and Senku announced they'll be traveling to America. As you have lived there before, they took you and your one-year-old daughter along. Now, thousands of years later, you'll find yourself face to face with the man who had hurt you the most across the world.

Part 1

Part 2

Two years have passed ever since your family has reunited. To say that things are finally in peace is a long stretch. What with your daughter trying to outsmart her father and your husband not backing down.

You sighed as you caught- once again- the now almost four-years-old Xenka arguing with Xeno who has a grin on his face.

"I'm telling you, kid. It has to be 0.80% of NaCl otherwise, it won't react," he tells his daughter who is already sporting a scowl.

"No, papa. My calculations say 0.85%," she insisted.

Xeno stepped back and laughed at his daughter's stubbornness, "Alright, princess. Why don't you try it then?"

And without hesitations, she poured the chemical just as she said and stepped back. It was silent for a few seconds until a loud explosion rang through the air.

Xeno's laughter soon followed which made Xenka glare at him, "whatever, papa," she says stubbornly.

"You may have outsmarted Senku but you can never be more intelligent than me." He further aggravated his child.

Before Xenka can retort and start an unnecessary fight, you stepped into the laboratory. Upon seeing you, the two acted in synch together towards you. The two of them are already pulling you out.

"Mama! We told you not to enter, right?" you sighed as your daughter scolded you.

"Xenka's right babe. Some fumes are harmful to you," he says then reached his hand to your protruding abdomen, "especially our little one."

You instantly feel guilty, "I'm so sorry, Xeno, Xenka-chan. My pregnancy brain makes me the dumbest human on earth," you shyly muttered not looking at them.

You felt someone hug your knees as well as hands snaking in your waist. You revel in the warmth your family gave you. Ah, I am home.

You stayed in that position until you heard Xenka scream.

"Ew! Ew! What is that?"

Alarmed, Xeno crouched down to check on his daughter. Only to find out that your water broke. In an instant, he had you in his arms and the three of you are marching to the medical wing.

You laughed as your husband looks panicked no matter how hard he tried to look calm and collected. After all, this is the first time he'll be present in your child's birth. You squeezed his shoulder and nuzzle his neck as a means of providing some comfort.

You have been feeling the contractions since the break of dawn earlier. You have kept quiet because you know that you're still in the latent phase of labor. You don't want to torture your two scientists on waiting for the new member of your family.

Now that you suspect that you're in the transition phase of labor and your bag is broken, it is now a matter of time before you'll be able to push this baby out of you.

When you arrived at the wing, the doctor who has acted as your ob-gyn moved quickly to prepare the room for your birth. Sterile instruments were put in the makeshift mayo table. He also scrubbed his hands and don the sterile gloves that your husband has made just for this occasion.

While all of those are happening, the contractions became stronger and unbearably painful. You performed breathing techniques to calm yourself and make it through the pain. Your husband, however, has been gripping your hand tightly and is sweating bullets. Who the heck is giving birth now?

"Okay, Mrs. I'll just check your cervix real qui- Oh! Nevermind, I can see the head," the doctor announced which makes Xeno's head snap to the doctor.

"That's quick. Is it normal? Is everything okay?" your husband asked, nervousness evident on his face.

"Don't worry, it's supposed to be faster since this is her second baby," the doctor reassures your husband.

The conversation hasn't even reached your ears as you focused on the feeling of your contraction. When the contraction hit its most painful part, you pushed without making a sound.

"That's good, mrs! Give me one more," the doctor put his hands on your perineum to prevent tearing.

"Good?! She's not even screaming or gripping my hand! How is that good?! Is she okay?!" Xeno has been feeling useless ever since they entered the medical wing. For the first time in his life, he doesn't know what to do. All he did was hold your hand and compliment you when the doctor does.

"She's reserving her energy for the birth. Nothing to worry about," the medical professional reassured him once again.

A few minutes later and the shill cry of your baby covered the entire wing. Shouts of victory are heard from the outside of the room. You exhaled from exhaustion as you relaxed and feel the contractions that still wracked your body.

The doctor held your baby up so the two of you can see the new member of your family.

Tears pricked both you and Xeno's eyes when the two of you gazed at the wailing baby in front of you. A big grin broke out on Xeno's face as he stared at his baby. He's finally able to witness the birth of his child. He couldn't feel more proud and in love with you to have gifted him two precious children.

"Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Wingfield! It's another girl,"

The doctor carried the baby to your awaiting naked chest for the first skin to skin contact with your daughter.

A daughter, once again, Xeno thought. He is suddenly filled with a sense of overprotectiveness and intense love for this little human being.

You caressed your little girl's cheek as the doctor worked on clamping your baby's cord and removing your placenta. The little girl sighed into your chest as Xeno covered the two of you with a blanket and putting his hand above yours. The two of you marveled at your perfect little baby- vernix and all.

"Mama! Papa! Lemme see!" the demanding voice of your daughter made you snap your attention to your firstborn. She has been dragged by Stanley when you were prepped in the delivery room.

Xeno immediately held up Xenka and crouched for the girl to see her little sister.

"Greet your sister, Xenka," your husband said.

The girl frowned and looked at the both of you, "bummer. I wanted a little brother," she said lifelessly.

This alarmed Xeno but you only smiled when the baby reached out to grasp the thumb of Xenka. The latter's eyes lit up and a grin has finally plastered on her face.

"Well, I guess you're not that bad Shina," her hand went to pat her sister's head gently followed by whispering the formula of the revival fluid.

You and your husband only laughed at the scene. Not even minding that she just named her sister. Xeno looked at your eyes.

"Shina, huh? It has a nice ring to it," he says as he put Xenka on the bed. The girl immediately lay beside you to play with her sister more comfortably.

"Shina Wingfield," you nodded, liking the sound of her name, "even her name sounds beautiful,"

"You're beautiful," Xeno breathed out without thinking.

"I love you, Xeno," you expressed.

"I love you too, love," he took your hand and kissed it which made you feel giddy. Gosh, you just gave birth!

"I love you three, and four for Shina," Xenka added which made you and your husband burst out in laughter.

You smiled at your husband reaching a hand to his cheek. Xeno on the other hand feels his heart squeeze in elation as he gazed at his family.

The emotions that he feels are overflowing and he doesn't mind if it hurts his image. All that matters is his family in front of him.

I'm such a lucky bastard, he thought.

Finally, he is complete with the three women in his life.

Annnd done! Thank you to those who liked and reblogged this mini-series. I actually love Xeno even if he tried to kill Senku. The next one-shot will be about Senku. Kukuku, see you there!

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septicbro1005 · 4 years

Text

Paint Me How You See Me

A/N: Okay, you have no idea how excited I was to see that I had permission to write this. I literally am so happy I could scream. Will I? Not out loud. This actually made me so excited that I got up and started walking around my room and smiling holy shit. Alright. Enough of that. I was inspired to write this story by a comic made by the fantastic @venadorosas and I just am so damn excited to write this! I am not an art student myself, but I will do my best to replicate it with what I know. I hope I do the comic justice! Just a few more things before this thing starts: I'm gonna do myself and make this a Quirkless AU as well as make Yuuei a university instead of a high school. This is unedited, so if there are sentences or misspellings, that is why, and I apologize. Anyway, let's get rolling!

Kirishima's POV

One stroke after the other.

Small, swift.

One stroke makes a world of a difference.

So don't… mess… up.

I only have one canvas left after this one, but I'm saving it for something important. Something special. Just need to figure out what.

I mean, yeah, I have others on back order, and Mr. Miyoshi is usually pretty cool with giving me some, but I still need to think about what to do with the 106 cm by 106 cm canvas.

A canvas that big needs something worth being put on there.

"Psst, Kiri--" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhut," I hissed out through clenched teeth.

"You nee--" "I said shut,"

"B--" "No. Shut. Lemme finish,"

The person who proceeded to pester me, even after I told him to be quiet, was none other than Hanta Sero.

He was an art student, along with myself and several others I know by name.

One of which was Katsuki Bakugou.

And damn, was he confusing.

He was this aloof dude who talked to maybe two people by his own volition.

Some random girl who I see him talk to ever now and again. I think we've spoken twice? All I remember is she told me to call her Tsu.

And then me.

Sure, he'd talk to the professors and people like that, but if he didn't have to speak, he wouldn't.

Yet, he spoke to me.

Not only did he barely talk to people, but he also is probably one of the best looking people on campus.

I kid you not, the first time I saw this dude, I was totally sure I'd met Adonis in human form.

His ash blond hair was styled into a fluffy undercut that I would pay money for to be able to run my hands through, even once. His gauges and helix piercings gave him a bit of an edge, but that's what made him more alluring. He came into class one day, wearing a wife beater, which put a tattoo on full display, resting on his right shoulder.

It isn't just his looks that are attractive either. The way he holds himself, presents himself, just his whole aura is indescribable, to keep it brief.

And he was the person I was painting this for.

This wasn't his first commission. Not by a long shot. And this one was fairly simple as well. Still, I poured my heart and soul into it, just like every piece.

But with his commissions, I feel the need to work that much harder. To push myself that much farther. To make it perfect, in a word.

Now, I know that perfection is impossible, but I still want to achieve it.

I mean, if Bakugou could, I could too, right?

"Kirishima, I've been talking to you for the past couple of seconds and you haven't shushed me. Don't zone out on me right now, man,"

Sero's voice managed to pull me out of this trance, but only a bit.

The ash blond with the scarlet glare was still in the back of my mind.

"What?"

"You need lunch, man," Sero said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen, I thank you for your concern, but I had a protein shake maybe six hours ago. I'm dandy," I mumbled, doing a few more soft strokes before standing up. "Plus, I'm not even hungry,"

"Dunno what kind of protein shake you're drinking, but you still need sustenance. C'mon," Sero attempted to persuade me as I walked to the sink to clean the small brush.

"I'm cool, dude. I have a granola bar or two in my bag. I'll eat when I'm hungry," I chuckled lightly, turning on the water and cleaning the brush.

Sero sighed in defeat, as this marked the second week in a row where I substituted breakfast with a protein drink and lunch with a granola bar.

"Alright, fine. Make sure you eat dinner tonight, or Mr. Miyoshi is gonna kick you out again," Sero said, beginning to walk to the door.

"I know, I know,"

"I'll be off, then,"

"Peace out, dude,"

I heard the door to the studio shut, and it was just me in here.

Just me and the paint.

"Hey, Siri,"

My phone lit up, hearing its name.

"Play Rex Orange County on Spotify,"

As I began to finish up some touches on the snow covered forests surrounding a bright red cardinal, the song Uno filled my ears.

The song had no real relevance, but I love that song so much. I dunno if its just because it sounds so simple and sweet, but I just think the song's pretty great.

I'd say after maybe forty-five minutes of doing seemingly pointless touch-ups, I stood back, admiring my work.

Not much needed to be done, but I needed this to be phenomenal.

"I'll just use a simple varnish once everything is dry, then I can move it into the back," I muttered to myself, as if someone was there and I had to be quiet. "Can I finish it today? I could tell him where it is, and wait for the money to come in, I guess,"

A few seconds pause later, and I continued.

"Wow, great job, Eijirou. You sound like a dickwad who just wants money,"

A short sigh, a granola bar and maybe a half an hour or so later, everything seemed dry.

"Let's varnish this motherfucker, and I'll text him when that's done," I mumbled, going into the cabinets, looking for the varnish.

No other assignments at the moment… okay! Cool! I can probably head back to my dorm, chill there, and text Bakugou when it's done!

When I finally found it, I got to work on the varnish.

***

"And sent," I whispered as I approached the dormitories.

I just sent Bakugou a short text, telling him where to find it, how to send me the money (although he probably knows the process by heart at this point) and all that jazz.

My dorm building was in sight when my phone buzzed once.

It was a different buzzing pattern than all the others.

"Oh, Bakugou responded this quickly?" I thought aloud.

Opening my phone, I checked the message.

Sent the ¥321.7K

My eyes widened at the number.

"I sure as hell didn't tell him to send me that much, what the hell?"

What!? The commission was only ¥48.2K?!

His response was immediate.

Left a tip.

Get yourself something nice.

"Whoa," I murmured.

Now, I knew Bakugou was on the higher end of the economic spectrum, but hot damn!

He did usually give me more money than I told him to, but that fact that he gave me that much more this time just seemed to solidify the thought of him being rich.

So manly.

Heading into my dorm building, I looked to the elevators, only to see an out of order sign on them both.

"Are you kidding me?" I whispered. "Fine, guess I'm just gonna take the damn stairs,"

I got a notification, seeing the ¥321.7K was successfully put into my account, and I knew this commission was over.

But at this point, I knew what to expect from Bakugou. Next time I see him, he's gonna ask me about another one.

Not that I mind, not one damn bit. I'm cool with any excuse to talk to him, and I'm happy to please him with my art.

I just gotta brace myself for the next time I see him.

Trudging up the stairs, I began pondering what he would want next.

He seems to really like requesting animals, mainly birds such as crows and cardinals, but will he do something different? Ooh, maybe a peacock! Or maybe he'd want some other winged creature… like maybe an insect? Or possibly he'll switch it up on me.

As I ended up on the next staircase, I heard someone else's footsteps approaching.

Looking up, my eyes were met with a familiar scarlet pair of eyes.

"Oh, hey, Bakugou!" I said with a wave.

"Hey," he replied with a simple nod.

Fuck, he was just as gorgeous as always.

A grey turtleneck hugged his torso, with a black and white pinstripe button up on over it. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black jeans, a wallet chain dangling on his right side. A pair of black converse and a dog tag finished his look, alongside my composure.

"Thanks again for the great work," he said, his husky voice hypnotizing me further.

"You haven't already picked it up, have you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. "I don't think I saw you walk past me to get to the parking lot,"

"Nah, but I know it's gonna look good," his compliment was accompanied by a smirk.

Short-lived, yes. But a smirk nonetheless.

"Aw, thanks dude! Always happy to make something for my best customer!" I felt myself beam at him.

"See you around, Red," he said, continuing down the stairs.

"Bye," I waved with a small smile on my face as he disappeared down the stairs.

I quickly hauled ass up to my floor, speed walked to my door and slammed the keys in.

Gay panic in private, dude.

Opening the door, I pulled my key out and shut the door.

"I'm back, Omi!" I shouted into the apartment to see if my roommate was here.

"Hey," my roommate responded from his bed.

"Is it cool if I hop in the shower real quick?" I asked, jerking a thumb toward the bathroom.

"Sure thing. Keep it brief," Omi said, making me roll my eyes.

"Okay, dad," I sighed, but I gave a smile to show it was all in jest.

After locking myself in the bathroom and stripping myself down to absolutely nothing, I got in the shower and had a gay crisis.

Because that's the only place you can have those, y'know?

But a good ol' Panic! In The Shower was enough to calm my nerves.

As I stepped out of the bathroom to grab clothing, I heard Omi laughing.

"What?"

"That Bakugou guy really messes you up, huh?" his laughter was thrown in between words, but I knew exactly what he was referencing.

"If I'm being too loud, just knock on the door, dude! Tell me to shut it, I don't care," I flushed, looking at the ground, my hand tightening around the towel that hung on my waist.

Omi just kept laughing at me as I grabbed my clothes; a simple crimson riot shirt, boxers, black shorts and my wave socks.

It isn't like I'm going anywhere tonight, right?

…

Is what I originally thought until I was dressed and realized I left my motherfucking cardigan at the studio.

"Ugh, fuck," I groaned, rubbing a towel on my head.

"Left your cardigan again?"

"Perhaps,"

"You might as well just wrap it around your waist," Omi suggested.

"And risk getting paint on it?" I looked at Omi like he was a motherfucking psychopath. "Hell no. The cardigan was my grandmother's, so I ain't doing shit to it,"

"Clearly, if you're leaving it in the studio again," Omi mumbled.

"Shush!" I whined, grabbing my keys and slipping on my red sneakers. "I'll be back,"

"Okay,"

Leaving my dorm, I began going down the stairs when I ran into someone.

It was Bakugou, again.

And just when I thought my gay panic was over for the day.

"Oh, hey," I said as casually as possible.

Which probably sounded forces as fuck, because it felt like my heart was just about ready to implode.

"Red," Bakugou was looking me up and down.

I don't think I've ever felt more self-conscious about my appearance in my life.

"I've got another request, if it isn't too much,"

"O-oh, okay!"

Why did I stutter?! That was so unmanly!

"So, what is it?"

I looked into his gorgeous eyes, trying to see further into him, but I was only met with his right hand slamming into the wall next to my head.

Oh shit, oh fuck. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna collapse, right here. Right now. I can't handle this.

"Uh, dude? You--" "Paint me how you see me, Kirishima,"

Uh, what?

I was stuck between saying "Got it," and "What?" so my dumbass just responded with this:

"Gweh?"

We sat there, in silence, staring at each other.

My face was flushing bright red, and I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I couldn't. His eyes just drew me in.

He moved his arm to his side, and began to head up the stairs.

Quick, say something coherent!

"O-on it!"

I swear, I saw him smile a bit before he was completely gone.

What was I doing again?

***

It's been around three weeks.

It's been three weeks of planning, sketching, and small, swift strokes.

And plenty of panic, but that's irrelevant. There was a bit of disco, so it balances out anyway.

Mr. Miyoshi did end up setting a curfew on me, to make sure I didn't pass out at the studio, but it wasn't set until it had already happened.

But, since I wanted to work on it after the curfew, I brought it to the dorm, keeping it on newspaper and buying the paint I needed.

I had the picture in my mind, which I did my best to replicate without him genuinely modelling for me.

It was a ¾ shot of his shirtless back, with him looking over his right shoulder, giving a perfect view of his side profile. I also made sure I replicated his tattoo to the best of my abilities, and I think it came out okay.

But that isn't all!

Monarch butterflies lined his back, as a fiery looking echo was placed slightly to the left.

Those warm colors contrasted like hell, compared to the blues and navy of the background.

Just to fuck around with more color, flecks of brighter colors adorned the background, giving it sort of galaxy look.

I thought it looked gorgeous.

And not just because it's Bakugou.

You know how when you make something, and you worked so damn hard on it, and when it's done, you're just filled with pride?

This is one of those works for me.

"Omi!" I yelled about before cringing.

It's 01:35.

"Yeah?"

Why the fuck does he sound like he's been awake?

"First of all, have you been awake this whole time? Second of all, could you grab me my phone?" I said a little quieter.

"It's done?" Omi asked, coming over with my phone.

"I'm happy with it," I said with a huge grin.

"Looks fantastic," Omi pat my shoulder before walking off.

Using my nose, I unlocked my phone and took a picture before putting my phone down.

I just looked at the painting, with Bakugou's slight pout catching my eyes.

I have absolutely zero clue what came over me, but I lifted my forefinger to my mouth, and pressed a small peck to it.

My forefinger rested against the painting's lips, and I just felt warm.

And that was probably the best feeling ever.

I gotta give this to him in person. It's about time I told him.

***

What floor are you on again?

Number two. Room 204.

Okay, I'm coming over.

I let out a shuddery breath, looking at the canvas, which I covered with a blanket.

I need to tell him.

It's time.

I kept opening my phone, making sure I had the song ready to play at the click of a button.

He needs to know.

A loud knock landed on my door, and I jumped.

I walked over to the door, playing the song as I opened it.

"Hey, Bakugou! Come in!"

The ash blond entered, wearing a button up and jeans again, just no turtleneck this time.

"So, I wanted to give this one to you in person… because I…" I was stumbling over my words.

Calm down, Eijirou. You got this.

"Because this could very well be the last commission you want from me,"

This made Bakugou's usual deadpan change ever so slightly. His left brow rose up as his head tilted to the side.

"And why might that be?"

"I…"

Fucking say it.

Spit it out.

"I like you," I barely got out before throwing my gaze at the ground. "I like you a lot. You're just so cool and collected, and from what I know about you, I like it. And I want to know more. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I just had to get that out,"

Before I even looked at him, I walked over to the painting, still looking at the ground, and pulled the blanket off.

Everything was silent, except for the music in the background. But even the song was at a quieter part than the rest of it.

I felt Bakugou's eyes on me and not the painting, which terrified me to no end.

Should I have even said anything?

"You don't have to pay if you don't want to or if you don't like it. And…" I took in a shaky breath, looking at the ground, lazily gesturing to the painting and then myself. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, if you even thought of us as friends, then you can ignore me,"

His footsteps were soft, but I knew they were coming. So when his black converse appeared in my vision, I looked off to the side as my vision blurred with tears that threatened to spill.

A finger went under my chin, turning my face to him.

His eyes met mine, and he was smiling.

"You really are oblivious, huh?"

"Gweh?"

Fucking, again?

Bakugou laughed before leaning in a bit, his head turning to the left.

"Can I kiss you as a tip?"

My whole brain has short-circuited, but I turned my head to the right and leaned in closer.

My eyes slowly closed, and when his lips met mine, I was immediately thrown into a state of euphoria.

Holy shit, this is happening.

This is actually happening!

I couldn't help the smile that bloomed on my face as I draped my arms over his shoulders, and I couldn't stop laughing either.

It was so fucking amazing.

Small blazes of tears made tracks down my cheeks, but I didn't care. Unless my nose starts running, I'm not gonna let some tears mess up this kiss.

But, all good things must come to an end, as Bakugou pulled back.

His eyes were on mine, and for once, they were soft. A small grin was pasted on his features, his hands on my face.

"Why are you crying?" he asked as his thumb rubbed at my dampened cheek.

I just felt myself giggle in response.

"Well, I was originally gonna cry because I thought you wouldn't be cool with my confession, but these tears quickly turned sweet," I just couldn't stop laughing. "Shit, I'm so happy,"

We just stood there for a few moments of content silence before Bakugou spoke up.

"So, how the hell am I supposed to bring this painting to my dorm?"

"I can help you bring it up there!" I offered.

"I get to bring two masterpieces to my dorm? Great!" Bakugou oozed confidence as he said that.

"Dear christ," I began giggling again, since that was unexpected.

We grabbed the painting, and I made sure Bakugou was careful with it, but was also holding it properly.

"Hey, Omi! Could you get the door?"

"Sure,"

"Your roommate was here?" Bakugou asked.

"Well, it's his dorm too." I pointed out as Omi got the door for me. "Plus, it isn't like I wasn't so obviously crushing on you,"

"It really wasn't," Omi said, patting my back carefully. "But congratulations to the both of you,"

"Thanks, Omi,"

Bakugou just gave a small murmur to thank Omi.

"Alright, Bakugou, you go through the door first, then we can keep walking," I said, turning us so Bakugou could walk out the door properly.

"Okay,"

After a quick minute of maneuvering, we managed to get the painting up the stairs without damaging it.

"So you're which dorm?"

"302," Bakugou said as we got to his door.

"Coolio!" I grinned.

"Dork," Bakugou snickered at me. "How d'you want this to be put down?"

"We can just rest it against the wall," I said, propping the painting up on the wall.

"Give me a quick sec," Bakugou mumbled, unlocking the door.

He swung the door open and made sure it stayed open.

"Alright,"

"At this point, I'm gonna follow you. You know where you wanna put this?" I asked him.

"Uhm… I think Misumi wouldn't mind if I placed this on his side of the room until I know exactly where to hang it," Bakugou said as we walked into the room.

***

My paintings were all on the wall. The snow surrounded cardinal, the murder of crows, all of them.

Except one.

The other paintings sort of made a frame, with a 106 cm x 106 cm square in the middle.

"Hey, honey?" I called out.

"What's up, Rourou?" Katsuki asked from the other room.

"Could you grab me the step ladder?"

"Shorty," I heard Katsuki laugh.

"I heard that, Katsu! You aren't as quiet as you think!"

"Says you, of all people!" Katsuki chuckled, coming on with the step ladder.

"Thank you, baby," I said, pecking his cheek.

"Of course. Putting up the last one?" He asked.

"Yep!" I said, grabbing the painting I made all those years back.

The monarch butterflies dotting his spine, his scarlet glare, gorgeous fluffy hair, all of it brought together, and hung up on our wall.

I got off the step ladder, and looked at the paintings. Every single one of them.

A hand snaked around my waist and pulled me in close.

"I love you so much, baby," Katsuki whispered, kissing my forehead.

"I love you too,"

His hand rubbed against my waist, but I could feel one thing that was inconsistent with the feeling of the rest of his hand.

A golden band sat on his left ring finger, practically identical to the one that sat on my left ring finger.

A/N: And that's all! Honestly, I'm very pleased with this, and think this came out well! I hope that those of you who see this like it too! I want to thank @venadorosas for allowing me to write a story based off of their comic and for making such fantastic art. If you like my writing, I'm also on Wattpad, so check me out there, if you're up for it. Same username and profile picture. I do believe that this is it! I apologize for the ending, as it feels a little odd to me, I just don't have any idea how to end it properly. I sincerely hope that I did the comic justice. Love y'all! Stay safe and healthy! - Septic

#kiribaku #bakushima #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #fluff #fanficition #seriously when i saw i could do this i was so excited #holy shit #okay #inspired by a comic #gay #college au #art student au #i also threw in references to the game a3!#because why the fuck not #septic #unedited #so it's messy and i apologize for any misspellings

130 notes · View notes

superpaperclip · 4 years

Text

Worlds Collide

Woo, a new RWRB fic! Thank you to @handsomeroyalheretic for letting me use her OC Sophia. | Read on AO3 here.

As soon as Alex woke up, he grabbed his phone, scrolling to find a particular notification.

@Jane-Hoesten: Good morning, hon!

He smiled and tapped on Discord, opening to the conversation with Henry from last night.

@certified-texmex: morning sunshine @certified-texmex: sleep well?

@Jane-Hoesten: I know for a fact we were both awake at 3 AM, and I know for a fact we’re in the same time zone. @Jane-Hoesten: I’m sure you can use that brain of yours to make an inference

@certified-texmex: touche @certified-texmex: is that how you spell that? @certified-texmex: eh idc @certified-texmex: anyway whatre you doing today

@Jane-Hoesten: The usual. Class, volunteering, and writing. You?

@certified-texmex: same @certified-texmex: class, work, n volunteering

Smiling, Alex put his phone down before finally rolling out of bed. Texting Henry had become a daily routine months ago, one that Alex greatly enjoyed. They had been following each other for years before Alex finally sent him a message one day. Since then, they talked at least once a day, their friendship quickly growing and flourishing. It was always a nice reprieve from his absolute ass of an upstairs neighbor.

Alex and his neighbor hadn’t had more than a few interactions, Alex didn’t even know his real name- just a nickname, Fox, that one of his friends called him- but that was more than enough for him to have shown his true colors. The first day the guy had moved in three years ago, Alex had gone to his apartment to welcome him to the building. But as soon as Fox opened the door, he had slammed it on Alex’s face, leaving him in the hallway with a plate of slightly burnt cookies in his hands. Since then, they had been verifiable adversaries, going out of their way to avoid each other.

It was a shame- Alex had wanted to get to know him. The rest of the residents in the apartment building were elderly men and women, and while Alex didn’t have anything against him, he had been excited when a guy his age moved in. And, ok, maybe the fact that he was very handsome didn’t hurt. Besides, June and Nora were always bugging him to make more friends. But that had gone completely out the window that first day. Alex wasn’t going to try to force friendship with someone who didn’t want it.

***

When Alex stopped to grab his mail that afternoon, he noticed Fox through the window standing outside of the building, talking on his phone. Lingering at the mailboxes right inside the doorway, Alex couldn’t help but overhear.

“-total arsehole! I don’t understand why. I never did anything to him, he just hates me! Yeah, in my building.” Alex didn’t hear any more than that- he was too angry. Who the fuck did Fox think he was? Did he not remember? Alex huffed back to his apartment, tossing his mail on the couch and heading right to his room. After sending a flurry of ranting texts to June, he opened Discord and went to his conversation with Henry.

@certified-texmex: ugh @certified-texmex: why did i have to get stuck with an asshole neighbor :/ @certified-texmex: f is such a dick @certified-texmex: i did nothing to him but he insists on hating me

@Jane-Hoesten: I’m sorry you have a shitty neighbor😕 @Jane-Hoesten: At least you don’t have to interact with him much. @Jane-Hoesten: Is there anything I can do to help you? @Jane-Hoesten: Do you want to talk about it?

@certified-texmex: nah i already ranted to June @certified-texmex: … @certified-texmex: can i get a sneak peek of what ill see next week? @certified-texmex: if youre comfy w it ofc

Henry was silent for a few minutes, and Alex started to wonder if he messed up. Sure, they’d been flirty, and had sent faceless pictures, but maybe Alex had unknowingly crossed a boundary. Just as he was about to ask if he went too far, a message popped up on his phone.

@Jane-Hoesten: [image0.png] @Jane-Hoesten: Is this what you wanted?

Fuck. Alex was going to die. The picture was a mirror selfie of Henry, his face cropped out. He was wearing a cropped white tank top showing off his pale torso and arms. Fuck. How was he going to survive meeting Henry in person?

***

@certified-texmex: today’s the day sweetheart :) @certified-texmex: you excited?

@Jane-Hoesten: Of course @Jane-Hoesten: I’m looking forward to finally meeting you in real life. @Jane-Hoesten: Are you excited?

@certified-texmex: duh! @certified-texmex: can’t wait to see you!

Today was the day Alex was going to meet Henry. They had agreed to meet at noon at the chess table in Washington Square Park, a popular hangout for NYU students. Alex was almost too excited, and, admittedly, nervous, to eat breakfast. What if Henry wasn’t who Alex thought he was? What if he wasn’t who Henry thought he was? What if they didn’t get along face to face?

Shaking his head, Alex forced himself to ignore his worries and focus on eating some eggs. He managed to make it through his morning class, though his leg was bouncing with nervous energy the whole time and he hardly retained any information. Making a mental note to get a copy of the notes from a classmate, Alex practically sprinted out of the building once class was over. He slowed to a speedwalk as he exited, and then to a leisurely pace as he entered Washington Square Park.

Alex’s stomach was in knots with a mix of excitement, nerves, anticipation, and an unsatisfying breakfast. He found himself scanning the park, though he didn’t know who he was looking for. However, he did see someone that made his shoulders stiffen and his jaw tense.

Heat curled in Alex’s gut as he caught sight of his neighbor sitting nonchalantly at a table. Specifically, the chess table he was supposed to meet Henry at. No. No asshole neighbor, no matter how annoyingly attractive, was going to ruin his first meeting with Henry. Forcing himself to relax, he approached the bench and sat next to Fox.

“What are you doing here?” Internally, Alex cringed at the venom in his voice as he took a seat, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He saw his neighbor’s back stiffen.

“Waiting for someone, not that it’s any of your business.”

Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen, and still no Henry. Alex knew he always liked to be on time, early if possible, and he started to worry. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick message.

@certified-texmex: eta? i dont see you

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his neighbor pull out his own phone. Copier.

@Jane-Hoesten: I’m here. The bench on NYU campus, right? I don’t see you.

@certified-texmex: im sitting on the bench next to the asshole neighbor i told you about @certified-texmex: im the handsome mexican one not the obnoxious blond one

Not 30 seconds after he sent it, Asshole Neighbor gasped and almost dropped his phone, looking wildly from Alex to the rest of the square and back.

“I- you- but I- we-“ The neighbor just gasped at Alex, holding his own phone in his hand. Alex was getting progressively annoyed, both with his neighbor and with Henry for not rescuing him.

“What? What about us?”

“I- I’m @Jane-Hoesten. And you’re @certified-texmex. Aren’t you?” Alex couldn’t believe it. It had to be some kind of trick. His asshole neighbor is his best friend, the person he poured his heart out to, the person he was finally going to meet in person, his Henry? No. No way.

“You’re @Jane-Hoesten? You’re Henry? No way. Lemme see that.” Alex grabbed at his neighbor’s- Henry’s- phone, and in his shock, he let Alex take it. Sure enough, there on the screen was their messages. All of them. Alex and Henry had been living next to each other the whole time, completely oblivious.

“Did- did you know?”

“What? No! Of course not! If I had known, I wouldn’t‘ve complained about you to… you. Although, that wasn’t exactly one-sided.” Alex felt the need to point that out, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Hold on. Your neighbor, F- was that me? I’m the one you’ve been complaining about all this time?” Henry’s voice was incredulous, as if he didn’t know. Alex said as much.

“As if you don’t know. You’ve been an asshole to me since you moved in! I’m not the one who started that.”

“What are you talking about?” At Henry’s baffled expression, Alex sighed and elaborated. “A couple days after you moved in, I baked cookies for you as a ‘welcome to the building’ present. As soon as you opened the door, you slammed it on my face. And then you never acknowledged it or apologized for it.” Henry had the decency to look ashamed, a blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“You’re right. I was a prick. Not that I can make up for it, but my father had died fourteen months before. I was always a prick at that point, and you happened to catch me on a bad day. I am, truely, sorry.” Alex’s heart leapt into his throat. He didn’t know- how could he- but he still felt horrible.

“I’m sorry, I-” Henry waved a hand, interrupting Alex.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve at least apologized.”

Yeah, you should’ve.” Alex says, but there was no real ire behind it. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to say or do. Eventually, Henry broke the silence.

“Okay, I know I’m not who you were expecting, and you’re not who I was expecting, but we have been talking for months now, even though we didn’t know it. Do you… maybe still want to go to lunch?” Henry’s voice is tentative, lifting at the end in a hopeful question. Alex considers Henry’s offer. On one hand, he hates the version of Henry from the apartment building. On the other hand, he’s also @Jane-Hoesten. How does Alex reconcile the two versions of the other man? He decides lunch would be a good place to start.

“Sure.”

***

“Daddy, can you tell me again how you and Papa met?” 5-year-old Sophia was burrowed under the covers of her bed, looking up at Alex with her big green eyes. Alex smiled, affection filling his chest.

“Of course, conejita. Do you want Daddy and Papa to tell you, or just Daddy?” She scrunches up her face in thought, before proclaiming that she wants both Daddy and Papa. Alex ruffles her hair, then stands up from his seat on her bed and sticks his head out of the doorway. Down the hall, he can see Henry on the couch, reading a book and waiting for him. More warth spreads through his chest at the sight. Henry looks up and smiles when he hears his name, closing the book and walking down the hall.

“Yes, love?” Henry kisses Alex’s cheek, and Alex smiles.

“The princess would like us to tell the story of how we met.” Sophia giggles from the bed, and amusement is twinkling in Henry’s eyes. They step back into the room and sit on opposite sides of the bed.

“Well, it started in an apartment building. Your dad had already been living there for a few years when I moved in.” Henry starts the story with a smile.

“And you instantly fell in love!” Sophia exclaims, giggling some more. Alex and Henry exchange knowing looks, almost laughing themselves.

“Not quite, conejita. When we first met… we didn’t exactly get along.”

“That’s right, Soph. We lived next to each other for three years until we started talking. Do you remember what happened next?” Sophia scrunches her face in thought at Henry’s question, then gasps.

“You didn’t know you were talking to each other! Cuz it was online!” She exclaims, a look of pride on her face. Alex and Henry both beam at her.

“That’s right, princess .When we met in person after talking for months, we were very surprised to see each other.”

“But then you fell in love!”

“Yes, we did.” Henry shifts his gaze to Alex, eyes full of affection and warmth and love. Alex loves those eyes. He loves the piercing blue, loves their expressiveness, loves how they look at him. He loves Henry.

#rwrb #rwarb #red white and royal blue #meg writes #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox

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