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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

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At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.

He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.

And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.

He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.

She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.

And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.

God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.

Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.

But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.

Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.

It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.

On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.

Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-

And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.

To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.

Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.

It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.

She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.

But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.

Never like this, though.

Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.

“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.

She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.

As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.

She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.

“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.

Bingo.

“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.

Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.

But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.

She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.

“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.

He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.

Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.

Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.

Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.

“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.

Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.

Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.

She was right.

“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”

She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.

Ah yes, the dreaded feather.

When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.

On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-

She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.

Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.

“Something wrong hummingbird?”

She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:

“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”

“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.

Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.

“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”

Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.

“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”

Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.

“But you have to wear the feather.”

She immediately blanched.

A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.

They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.

Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.

She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.

And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.

Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.

She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.

“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.

Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.

Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.

She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.

“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”

She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.

“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.

She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.

It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.

“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.

She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.

“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”

She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.

He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.

She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.

The feather stayed on.

Which brought her back to the present.

Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.

She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.

He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.

Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.

Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.

For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.

Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.

It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.

On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.

And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.

Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.

“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.

“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”

The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.

“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.

“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.

Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.

“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”

All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.

“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.

Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.

Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-

But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.

He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.

The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.

“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.

“Hawks I-”

“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”

She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-

Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!

But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.

She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.

“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.

“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.

She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.

Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.

Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.

“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.

Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.

They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.

The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.

After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”

It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.

He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.

Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.

He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.

What he saw was beautiful.

A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.

Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.

Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.

“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.

“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.

“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”

“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”

“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.

“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.

I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.

He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.

She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.

As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.

Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.

Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.

True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.

Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.

#yandere hawks #yandere x y/n #bnha yandere #mha x reader #bnha #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks #mha hawks #kidnapping #tw dubcon #mha #yandere #yandere hawks x reader

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tempestsreach-blog · 3 years

Text

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long. It’s going to be rambly. It’s going to be sad. It’s going to be angry. There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though.

Fuck diet culture. Let me say that again. Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life. I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back. The only way to heal is to go through. I can’t go back. I have to move forward. But I can’t do it quietly. I can’t hide. I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in. Literally. 40 years of my life wasted to this. I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way. What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me. That’s okay. Truly. This is about ME. This is to help ME heal. You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot. I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore. Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain. One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad. I should go to the doctor. I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it. Want to know why I didn’t? My weight. I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me. I don’t feel this way irrationally. This shit happens. I am in pain. I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work. Not long term. I am excellent at losing weight! I’ve done it over and over and over. Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself. Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not. I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much. Did you count those calories? How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that? Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time. Every meal. Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder. Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun. Cabbage soup. Phen Fen. Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting, and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results. I’ve purchased fancy scales. I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app. Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death. I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself. I am the failure. So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids. My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard. Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings. It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable? We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat. Or skinny if we’re really being honest. How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny. Feed her a damn cheeseburger! She looks anorexic.” I know I have. I know I’ve said those words. I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.

Every body is different. We are supposed to be. Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing. Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended. My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man. He’s just a big man. He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man. My mother was not tall, but was always large. I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way. Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large. That was the way her body was. I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated. How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work” I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.” NO.

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing. Suffering in silence. Hiding food. Restricting. Binging. Over exercising to compensate. Spending money on one last diet. Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly. I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time. One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty. My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me. It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin” Pretty on other people. Other people are pretty. Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming. In big ways and little ways. I’m 5 ft 9. I’m not a tiny person at any weight. I’ve always been told I’m too big. Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive. This is subconscious. I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets. “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.” or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then. Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure. Why bother? Fuck it. I’ll try again tomorrow.” That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality. If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life. The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet. So much life wasted. The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies. I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment. I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been. I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies. The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures. True story. This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me. IT’s what my brain said to me. It’s how I de-valued myself. There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food. I daydream about food. Food I “shouldn’t” eat. Food I “should” eat. When to eat. When not to eat. Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food. I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food. If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it. This is going to take me a long time to break free from. Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body. Food is not good or bad. Food is food. I have to say these things. I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again. None of this is work anyone can do for me. I have to live it. I have to work through it. I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands. If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it. This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind. I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment. I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them. Airing this out is one of those things for me. It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion. I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this. I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives. Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are. I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject. They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

#intuitive eating #anti diet #mental health #fuck diet culture

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jaeminscoffee · 4 years

Text

6:45 PM

Pairing- Lee Jeno x reader.

Genre- Angst, Fluff.

Word count- 1.91k

Warning- False accusation, Jeno seems a little thick headed but he was just caught up in the heat, mention of breaking up but not really :))

Summary- Not the ideal off day with your loved ones that you were looking for.

"You need to tell me what's wrong, Jeno." you demand with a stern voice, having had enough of the way your boyfriend was acting.

Earlier today Jaemin, a good friend of yours, a best friend of Jeno's had come over, reason being missing his two best hype mates and not getting much time to spend with you after having a hectic schedule.

Jeno was fine the first two hours, interacting well, cracking stupid tacky jokes, sometimes even ganging up with Jaemin to make fun of you. But you noticed the gradual strip out of his patience, furrowing his eyebrows or gripping the pillow in a death grip. His subtle glares towards his friend was not given a blind eye, you noticed it all. Typical Jeno. He's always been a little jealous over your slightly curved affection for others.

It was only when he did something he's never done throughout the years of one, your relationship, two Jaemins friendship that had you completely shocked.

"I have nothing to tell you, Y/n" He replied with the same tone he held an hour ago after the guest left the house. You weren't going to buy his bullshit.

"You screamed at Jaemin asking him to get out. Do you still have nothing to tell me?" you ask, walking up to where he sat by the edge of the bed.

"I said i have nothing to tell you." Voice hoarse, the veins on his neck protruding prominently from how strained his jaws were. "Well you do." You spit out as soon as you stood in front of him, his gaze still fixated on the floor.

"I. Don't." he repeated the words through gritted teeth. For a normal person, he'd be extremely intimidating and would've had the other weak in their knees from how threatening he sounded. Fights are normal for any couple but the last you'd heard him use this tone was when someone tried to touch you at a club you went to for the weekend.

"Then I do. Jaemin's your best friend for god's sake! He came in here, wanting to spend some quality time with us and he was an absolute sweetheart throughout even! And what do you do? Scream at him? For what? He seemed so hurt! What must he be thinking right no-!"

"Enough!" Jeno stood up, towering over your much smaller figure with his as he narrowed his eyes down at you, nose flaring. You wouldn't be shocked if he started breathing out flames.

You jump from the sudden raise of his voice, having to crane your neck to look up at him, hands shaking the slightest from the flinch you just experienced.

"Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Who's your boyfriend, huh?" He started walking forward, almost stepping on your toes if you hadn't moved back, "Actually, he might as well be! You're always on about him and now you even want to go defend him" he poked at your right shoulder, pushing you back as you gaped at his words, completely taken aback by his assumption.

"All i wanted was one fucking day to spend with you but nope! You want your dearest Jaemin with you. All the fucking time! Do you not love me anymore, Y/n?" Jeno let out an exhale, pushing you back with a single finger still on your shoulder, making you step back, "Jen-" "No you wanted me to tell you what's wrong right? Hear me out then!"

"Is Jaemin all you think about, Y/n? Is that why you're getting so worked up over me shouting at my best friend?? Emphasize the word, my. My best friend, why is it affecting you? Huh?" He raised his voice once again, you turn your head to the side, crunching up the facials trying to make out why he's making this a big deal. It was his fault to begin with.

"You want him that much then just go to him right! Or you want both of us because i won't be shocked at that, you're a sucker for anything remotely good looking anyways you won't hesitate to run your mouth all over town-!" Jeno stopped midway to completing his sentence, now noticing your glazed eyes and the heavy puffs of air you took.

"are you done?" you ask with trembling voice, Jeno opened his mouth to speak but you held your hands up, stopping him, "If this is about Jaemin-" Jeno took in a sharp breathe, hands going from poking at your shoulder to holding your shoulder in a tight grip at the mention of his best friends name. Though the grip was bruising, you muster up all the strength you had, removing his hands from you, quickly stepping back to create some space between the two of you.

"Then he's my friend too." you step back once again as Jeno stood his ground. "But if you heard yourself and actually think of me that way. You're more than welcome to just break things off." you grab the door knob as a tear slipped out, turning away to shield the weakness from your boyfriend who's head is stuck up his butt at the moment, and dashed out the room.

"Y/n wait-" you hear him call out for you, footsteps shuffling close behind but you grabbed the car keys, wanting away from him to clear your mind the least. One of you should stay sane.

Driving away to your safe space, the old library that took a journey of around 25 minutes, which is most likely to be 'anything living and breathing'-free as not many knew of that place, which made you love it even more.

Whiffs of old bookcases are calming.

You were pleased to find out your assumptions were correct, not a single soul other than a tired out cashier who seemed long passed out, given he failed to hear the ringing of the entrance opening.

You make your way to the extreme back, not particularly wanting to read anything with your thoughts clouded, allowing yourself a seat you found at a secluded corner.

You take your phone out, that had been vibrating since you left home after Jeno's sudden outburst, ignoring them, wanting him to feel bad for what he's done throughout the day, you scroll through your phone searching for Jaemin's contact, opening up messages to type in a quick apology for your boyfriend's behavior, explaining it must've been the the fatigue that got to him, but made sure to tell him not to wave off this behavior and screw him when they meet later.

Getting a reply almost immediately, you were shocked to find out Jaemin was still as bubbly as ever, saying it's fine and that he didn't take anything to heart which just made you feel even guiltier than you already felt.

Texting back and forth, Jaemin being more than ready to keep you company after you narrated what had happened back home, cracking jokes to make you feel better when you wantedly missed out on a few parts to tell him, you jolt when you feel a hand tear you away from the screen and the table in front of you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Warmth being familiar, you resist the urge to hug him back, not even bothering to ask him how he'd known where you'd be at as this is known to be the place you go to calm your mind, rather all those cliché places like the bridge or a cliff, or the beach, or taking a stroll in the twilight whatsoever.

"Y/n I'm so so sorry, please don't run off like that again" he spoke, Jeno mimicked your voice from before, this time quivering with guilt. "Let go, Jen" you spoke with a voice void of all emotions, tables turning as you mirrored his voice from the time of the argument.

"No, I won't, I'm so sorry, I meant nothing of what I said! Trust me, I was just being unreasonable and petty, i would never want to let go of you. I'd be an idiot if i did so" he spoke against your hair, grip around you tight, yet delicate, soft enough for you to step out if you'd wished.

"Yes you were." you reply, slowly raising your hands to feather over his elbows as he pressed you further against his chest, "I know. I'm really sorry, love. I was just jealous is all. And it had been a rough week at work and all that got to me but trust me when I say I'll do anything to repent just, please don't let my words get to you" he caressed your back.

"Those were all words of spiked up anger, and i really want to throw myself off a cliff, I'm really sorry, i am" he pulled away enough to place a peck on your forehead.

"you'll do anything?" you repeat his words for confirmation, finally allowing yourself to throw your hands around his torso. You look up at him, seeing a faint crimson at the white of his eye, the hue being really pale that you'd not make out if you stood a couple yards away. He must've shed some tears, just like you.

"Anything." with a nod, he hesitantly placed a delicate kiss on your lips, scared you'd shatter if he'd pressed any harder.

"house chores for a week." you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to drag the fight for long as it'd only take a negative toll on your relationship.

"Okay!" Jeno's face evidently lightened up, quick to think he's forgiven, "thank you for forgivin-"

"Don't be so sure on that, boy. You still have one thing left to do until I completely forgive you" you step back, turning to walk back towards the exit, fishing for the car keys from the back pocket of your jean, turning around and throwing the keys at him swiftly, his reflexes allow him to catch it.

"You're driving to Jaemin's house and begging for an apology, right now." it was only the right thing to do even after the lad insisting on not being hurt. Jeno is his best friend, it's always sucky when you have your friend mad at you without knowing what you did. Worse if you didn't actually do anything.

"You have it." Jeno exclaimed, walking towards you as the two of you made your way to the exit. "you're doing it the way i want you to, though", you turn your body towards him after both of you stood by the door of the passengers side.

"And how do you want me to do it?" He inquired, leaning against the car. "First tell him exactly what you said to me" Jeno nodded, agreeing to do that, "Then give him a tight hug and repeat sorry until he swats you away" he contemplated for a moment, but eventually ended up agreeing to it too. "And then.. Give him a kiss on the cheek." Your boyfriend let out a sound of protest, leaning back further onto the surface.

"Do i really have to??" he asked, whining.

"Yes."

"Like, really? really?"

"Mhm"

"for real? Real? Is it that important?" you let out a sigh at his constant poking at your side as he pushed further with the question.

"Do you want me to forgive you or not?" you ask, voice demanding, a hint of teasing evident. "Yes!" he was fast to reply.

"Then give him a kiss. "

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i-call-me-clarence · 3 years

Text

Life’s a Cemetery (Dig It)

Kevin and Jack get their hands dirty on grave duty.

Rated G

Suptober Day 6: Cemetery Boys

Fic below the cut

----

“You sure you’re good?” Dean asks for the third time.

“Kevin is here, and if anything happens we have angel blades and silver bullets,” Jack answers, making a little wave motion at Kevin who’s silently asking him how much longer he’s going to be on the phone. Kevin rolls his eyes and goes back to leaning on his shovel, refusing to start digging until Jack joins him. Jack doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer, “Dean, I’m sorry, but I have to--”

“And you’ve got the iron poker, right? And the holy water?”

“We still have everything in the pack you left us.”

“But did you double-check? A real hunter always double checks, triple even--”

Before Jack can respond Kevin is taking the phone from Jack’s hands, “Believe it or not the ex-god and current prophet know what they’re doing. Bye.” and he hangs up the phone.

Jack gives Kevin an apologetic shrug of his mouth as Kevin hands back the phone, slapping it into Jack’s hand. “He’s protective.”

“He’s turned into a helicopter parent. If I wanted that I’d just go back home.”

“But that would put your mother at risk.” Jack tilts his head in confusion.

Kevin rolls his eyes and tosses Jack a shovel, “Come on. Let’s get this done before the sun goes down.”

---

Three hours after sunset and they’re still digging. Jack started feeling lightheaded thirty minutes ago, and it’s gotten to the point where he needs to sit down.

“I’m sorry, I have to--” Jack ends up thunking down on his butt before he can finish.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kevin asks warily, stopping his digging and leaning against his shovel, “Is the talisman wearing off or something?”

“I--I don’t have a talisman,” Jack’s body is shaking and he’s starting to feel nauseous. Perhaps he should have listened to his body hours ago when it screamed at him to rest. But Kevin had kept going and he’d said he wouldn’t dig alone so…

“You don’t have an energy talisman?!” Kevin gaps at him and drops his shovel, “Are you kidding me?! You do realize you’re basically human now?”

How could Jack forget? Being human was so difficult that it was impossible not to be reminded of it constantly. Even when he slept. He didn’t use to sleep as a Nephilim...or as God. But Amara’s taking care of that now. Letting Jack have a ‘normal childhood’ as she’d said. Something she was envious of and didn’t want Jack to miss. ‘Even Chuck let himself have one. After he invented the concept.’ when she’d told him that it was clear she was hiding a deep sadness. Jack had decided after his childhood was over, he’d take over as God again so she could have one too.

“How are you even standing?!”

“I’m...not.”

Kevin looks at Jack, taking notice of the way he was starting to sway a little. Before cursing and getting down on his knees next to Jack.

He grabs a hold of both sides of the necklace his talisman was supposedly attached to, “I’m going to regret this,” Kevin groans, before taking off the necklace and holding it out to Jack. A green light pulses from Kevin’s chest, swirling around his arm, before being sucked into the little medallion hanging from the golden chain in Kevin’s outstretched hand.

Jack quickly takes the necklace, seeing the sudden strain in Kevin. As soon as he has it, Kevin lays back with a dull thud as his body hits the earth.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, suddenly breathing very heavily. “Worst part about that talisman,” he pants, “After you take it off, you feel every bit of exertion. All at once. Oh, I’m gonna die.”

Jack puts on the talisman and instantly feels better. Better than he’d felt since turning human. He wonders what would happen if you kept the necklace on all the time--

“And if you’re tingling from the charm and wondering ‘why can’t I wear this all the time,’” Kevin says in a deep mocking voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean, “Just look at me after five hours. Imagine a week, or even just a whole day.”

“It kills you?”

“It kills you.”

“I can finish this alone.”

“Yeah, but first,” Kevin tried to sit up, grunting in pain, “Help me out of this damn hole.”

---

It had been an hour since Jack started digging by himself, making a grand total of eight hours. Just a constant monotony of stab scrape shovel. At least Jack felt pretty good with this talisman, and at least they were almost done.

Stab, scrape, shovel. Stab scrape shovel. Stab--THUD!

Jack gasps in surprise, and Kevin leans over the opening of the hole to look down at Jack equally surprised, and elated.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, falling back on the grass, “We finally did it,” Jack hears him say. And then he groans, “But now I have to move.”

“If I were still God I could read this. Or create new eyes that could,” Jack notes, scrapes the remaining dirt off the coffin with his hands.

“If you were still God we probably wouldn’t even need this spell. And if we did, you could just teleport the tome out without all this bullshit.”

A reneged sector of angels, lead by the angel Inias, had decided to declare war on all remaining prophets. They thought they could use them to find a way to spy on Amara and overthrow her from, well, Goddesshood. This was the grave of a prophet, and inside was a tome they were buried with that held a spell to make prophets invisible to angels and demons. Probably how she lived long enough to die of old age. At first Jack had been sad, thinking this would mean he wouldn’t get to see Kevin anymore. But Sam said he was pretty sure that he could rework the spell so any angels or demons that gave of their blood in the ceremony would be able to still see prophets.

Jack hopes so.

Kevin leans his head over the grave again, wincing. “Wow, now that you’ve uncovered it, those sigils are really bright.”

Jack agrees, though what seemed like blue glowing sigils to them wouldn’t appear at all to normal humans.

Jack opens his mouth to say so but is cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Is that Dean again?” Kevin asks tersely.

Jack checks the caller ID and nods.

“Hand it here,” Kevin says, lunging his arm forward and down.

Jack hands over the phone and Kevin rolls back over with it, out of sight.

“Dean?” Jack hears him say. “Bring burgers and water.” A pause where Kevin must have been about to hang up because he says, “Oh, and get your asses over here.” and Jack hears a beep from the call ending.

“Here you go,” Kevin dangles his arm over into the grave, phone in hand.

-----

They eat inside the impala--Kevin mostly chugs water at first--with the engine idling and cabin lights on. Kevin and Jack are both filthy, but Dean doesn’t mind. ‘Part of bein’ a Hunter’ he’d said. Back in the old times, Cas or Jack would clean everybody up. But seeing as they were both human now, he and Kevin were doomed to be dirt-covered.

“How did it go?” Castiel asks from the front seat, mouth half full of burger, “You didn’t run into any problems?” Castiel had been wearing his regular suit before he’d left but was now wearing a space cats hoodie he’d gotten for himself when he took Jack to Hot Topic. He must have brought it with him in the car.

Kevin stops chugging water to answer, “No ghouls, no cops, no cemetery keepers or grieving loved ones, though that last one would be unlikely seeing as she was buried three hundred years ago. Where’s my burger?”

“Got you four,” Dean grins and waggles his eyebrows.

“I may just be able to eat that many.”

“Yeah and I’ll finish whatever you don’t. That goes for everybody.” Dean continues.

“Didn’t you just get back from a dinner date?” Kevin asks suspiciously, “Actually, if you didn’t, don’t answer, I don’t wanna know.”

“We did just get back from dinner…” Cas starts slowly. “It was, uh...fancy.”

“Too fancy,” Dean grumbles.

“Ah. Small portion sizes.” Kevin nods, but then pauses, “Aren’t you supposed to have fifteen courses or something?”

“Yeah well, we got a call three courses in to deliver some emergency burgers.” Dean shrugs, “Prefer the burgers anyway.”

“Jack, are you wearing an amulet?”

Jack jerks as he realizes he forgot to take it off, “Uh oh,” he says, setting down his burger. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What’s happening?” Dean asks looking around the cabin, panicked.

“Jack left an energy talisman on too long.” Cas sighs, looking sorry.

“Ohoho buddy,” Dean says into the air, smiling but also looking kind of sorry too, and even more so when he meets Jack’s eyes. He pauses. “Yeah bud, uh, that’s gonna be a bitch to take off.” He frowns.

Jack grabs the golden chain--

“Woah, man, what are you doing?” Kevin gasps after having grabbed Jack’s arm and stopping him from taking off the talisman.

“Will it kill me?” Jack asks everybody, suddenly nervous.

“Well, no,” Dean begins, winces, “It’s just gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Then shouldn’t I get it over with?” Jack asks, confused.

“You might pass out,” Castiel warns gently.

“You’re probably gonna wanna go with the passing out,” Kevin says, putting a bracing arm on Jack’s shoulder “It’ll suck less.”

Kevin nods at him and Jack takes that as a sign it’s time to take the talisman off. He lifts the chain up and off, and then something strange happens.

A green light swirls from both Jack and Kevin’s chests and swirls into the amulet.

Both of them double over.

“Woah! You kids alright?” Dean asks, lunging a hand over the backseat to touch Jack’s back, as Castiel quickly spins out of the car and back in at Kevin’s door, holding him up, checking his eyes and tongue, he goes to stick his finger in Kevin’s ear to take his temperature before remembering he can’t do that anymore.

“Kevin? Are you okay? Jack! Jack, are you okay?” Castiel asks urgently.

“Goddammit,” Kevin sighs, “Twice in one night, oh man I’m really gonna die.” then he looks at Castiel before reassuring, “Really, it wasn’t that bad.” Kevin turns to Jack, “How do you feel?”

“...Not that bad,” he answers truthfully.

“Hot damn.” Dean is smiling, leaning back into his seat, “Well now we know that’s a thing!”

“It could potentially save lives,” Castiel agreed. “I’ll have Sam tell the other hunters...though this may just be a situational occurrence between a prophet and a Nephilim. Who knows really.”

“It was still pretty cool,” Dean defends.

Castiel gets back into the car.

“And I’m not denying that. Why do you always jump to conclusions?”

“What are you talking about ‘always?’” Dean grunts back and starts up the car, pulling out of the cemetery parking lot.

Kevin and Jack tune Dean and Cas out.

“That was pretty cool,” Kevin says.

“Yeah,” Jack frowns, looking at his friend. “We’re going to perform the ceremony when we get back.” This may be one of the last times he ever sees or hears him again.

Kevin puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “It’s going to be okay. Even if we have to do it by proxy for a little while, I won’t stop being your friend. Okay?”

Jack smiled, putting a hand on Kevin’s shoulder too, which may have been weird or awkward but seemed like the thing to do.

Kevin smiles at Jack before patting his shoulder and saying “I’m going to pass out now.”

Jack nods and Kevin immediately drops his head back onto his seat and starts snoring.

Jack leans back in his own seat, feeling exhausted as well. Dean and Cas have stopped arguing and put the radio on low, laughing at j=okes here and there as they talk softly.

The running engine and metronome light of street lamps going by, and the familiar classic rock playing all seemed to be in some sort of competition with who could lull Jack to sleep first. The sound of the impala won.

The End

#suptober21 #spn fic #kevin tran and jack kline #suptober day 6

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

One Chance (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era

Request: hey so i was thinking could you might do a regulus x reader where the reader is like sassy or maybe all cold hearted? i honestly love ur page but i cant never relate with the reader bc she is always too soft 😭 maybe like if they understood each others depression and then end up falling in love? idk how to explain

To the annon who requested this: I hope that you enjoy

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M

_____________

“Y/n, Regulus Black has been looking at you for the past 10 minutes.”

You didn’t bother looking up from your potions book when your friend Anastasia spoke. The last thing that you wanted to deal with was Regulus Black and his stupid good looks.

“He needs to look somewhere else.”

You commented. Regulus Black had been staring at you a lot lately and it was beginning to get under your skin. Before a few weeks ago Regulus had nothing to do with you. It didn’t matter that the two of you had always been in the same house for the past 6 years or that the two of you had friends in the same circle. In fact, he took extra measure to not speak to you.

The best that you could come up with was he was uncomfortable with you going on a date with his old brother. Your heart hurt thinking about that particular time in your life. That was when you were an innocent sweet 4th year. Sirius dated you for all of a week before dumping you for some pretty Ravenclaw with blond hair and big boobs.

This was also the time that your depression really started kicking in. You weren't quite sure how to deal with all of the feelings swirling through your head. From dealing with your first break up to all of these dark and intrusive thoughts...you didn’t know how to cope. None of your friends seemed to understand either. A few of them chose to ignore what you were going through. The rest didn’t know how to deal with constant sarcastic comments. Now you had a few that stuck with you because it was in their best interest. If someone bothered them, you would chew the miserable fuckers ass out that caused them grief. This was a healthier outlet than sinking a knife into your arm.

Being at home was no better. Your mum tried to constantly get you off of the couch to do things but she didn’t seem to understand that you wanted nothing to do with whatever she was doing. Her words of…

“Stop lying on the couch like a giant hairball and do something. Go enjoy the day.”

Apparently you mother didn’t understand that you definition of “enjoying the day” meant being left the fuck alone.

That is one of the reasons that you preferred being at school. You could find peaceful places to be left alone.

Anastasia spoke again, pulling you from your thoughts.

“He probably thinks that you are pretty, Y/n. You really are a lovely girl.”

“Go get your eyes checked. Anna, I have as much luck with boys as a turtle does crossing the road.”

You muttered as the bell rang.

Not a moment too soon.

You thought as you stood to gather up your things. You were getting away from Anastasia and her mind numbing questions. Walking to the door you ran into a hard body.

Looking up, Regulus Black had turned around to just who the fuck ran into him. He blinked a few times the moment that your eyes met.

“Watch where you are going, Black.”

You hissed. Regulus automatically frowned.

“You ran into me.”

“So, you aren’t moving fast enough?”

You replied, not missing a beat. Regulus seemed a bit surprised by your comment. He wasn’t for sure why you were hostile toward him. In all of the years that he had known you, with the exception of year 1 and 2, you acted like he had personally fucked you over.

Regulus couldn’t help admitting that you were a lovely girl but your sarcastic hostile nature was a bit off putting. He had decided the year before just to avoid you at all costs. This year, however, he understood more about you. You were as depressed as he was. Regulus never understood it until this year.

Over the summer, Sirius ran off to James Potter’s abandoning his family. Regulus didn’t know how to put into words how he felt about it either. There was sinking in the middle of his stomach that never seemed to go away. It was there when he went to sleep at night and was waiting when he awoke the next morning. Regulus honestly never thought that he would be happy again.

He figured that returning to school would soothe those feelings. Regulus would be back with his best friends and would have no reason to think of Sirius. Unfortunately, the moment that he stepped into the great hall and saw his brother sitting at the Gryffindor table smiling and laughing. There was clearly no sadness in Sirius over the events of the summer. This sent Regulus into a deeper depression. His brother didn’t miss him and never would.

“You know most people just say excuse me and go on about their business.”

Regulus replied.

“Just get out of my way.”

You hissed and moved to get around him. Regulus honestly didn’t deserve your venom. He, after all, had done absolutely nothing to you.

He hasn’t done anything to you but you have no reason to trust him. Regulus will probably be just like his brother. You’ll get attached and have your heart broken.

You thought. It wasn’t fair to compare Regulus to Sirius when they were obviously such different people but you couldn’t help it. Most guys, no matter the house, was the same.

As you walked down the hall, you wanted nothing more than to have some time alone. You decided to walk down to the lake. A free period was just what you needed!

Sitting down, you took out a book and quietly began to read. It wasn’t until you were on paragraph two did you realize that someone was standing in front of you. Looking up, again your eyes met Regulus Black’s.

“What now, Black?”

You questioned. He put his hands on his hips feeling a bit annoyed. After the exchange in the potions, he decided that it was time for both of you to have a little chat.

“You and I need to talk.”

“Whatever about?”

You questioned as he sat down.

“I want to know why you hate me so bad?”

“I never said that I hated you.”

Regulus chuckled.

“Sure could have fooled me. You are always glaring at me like I personally offended you.”

You put your book down.

“I just don't like being oogled by some guy who is going to screw me over.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know me.”

“Yeah, I know your brother. All guys are the same so it doesn’t matter who you are.”

The response came out a little snipper than you planned. Standing up, you turned to storm back to the castle. Just who the fuck did Regulus think that he was? So what if he was a member of the Black family?

Woo-freaking-who.

“First, off you don’t know anything about me. I am nothing like my brother. If you would give me a bloody chance you would see that. I see what you are doing Y/n. I get it you use sarcasm and cold humor to cope. I do it too. As much as you want to come across as this tough girl who doesn’t need anyone, you're actually quite lonely…again I get it.”

You stopped before turning to face Regulus. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest. Dark eyes looked up at you with an intensity that you had never seen on his face before.

“I don’t like this, Regulus.”

He smirked.

“You don’t like someone figuring out who you are, Y/n. You don’t want people seeing that inside you are actually in pain. Again, I can relate.”

Regulus stood and walked down closer to the lake.

“My brother, who I know that you dated and I know he did you wrong, he abandoned our family over the summer. Now...everything is up to me. I am the only heir to the Black family. I have to do everything and I don’t fucking want to. I want to do whatever it is I want and there not be repercussions for my actions. However, that won’t be able to happen now.”

You frowned and watched him curiously.

“And why is that? Why can’t you just walk away? You’ll be an adult soon. Tell them to fuck off.”

Regulus laughed.

“If only it were that easy. You see my mother, she depends on me and I can’t let her down. If you knew my family, you would understand.”

You had heard plenty of rumors about the Black family. Regulus’ mother sounded like the typical pureblood mother. Maybe a bit darker than what your mother was but a pureblood mother all the same.

“I’m sure our families are very similar. Lovely bunch, purebloods.”

Regulus laughed bitterly at that. There wasn’t much that was lovely about being a pureblood when your mother was Walburga Black.

“Then you will understand why we have to do things that we don’t want to do. For example, being a death eater.”

“Regulus…”

He automatically pulled up his sleeve to show you the dark mark on his arm. Regulus wasn’t surprised when you made no facial expression. He had a feeling that you had seen your fair share of dark marks lately.

“My mother and father were okay with me doing it. Actually, they were quite proud that their son was doing the right thing...the just thing. I think I am too...at points. There are other times that I am not for sure. I see your face. You have the same expression. I bet you about 10 galleons, if you pull up your sleeves there are going to very similar cut marks...sometimes it gets too much.”

You looked down. For the first time, your tough exterior faded.

“You do it too...cut your wrists?”

Regulus nodded.

“Physical pain is better than mental pain, at times. Maybe we understand each other more than we thought?”

Your crossed arms slowly dropped to your sides.

“Maybe. We could also really hurt each other.”

Regulus’ hopeful smile fell.

“Or help each other. I don’t know what my brother did to you but I’m not him. Sirius and I have nothing in common except our last names. I mean, our last name is literally all that we have in common. You’ll get stupid bullshit with him. I’m on my A game. You wouldn’t have to guess what you were to me. All that you have to do is give me a chance. If it makes you feel better...I know where my brother is about this time of day and...well...sometimes Sirius isn’t so bright.”

You snorted.

“You could say that again. Fine, you have a chance. Don’t mess it up Regulus.”

Regulus held out his hand with a small smile. Something told you to be wary. The depressive side said, no but something deep inside of you said yes.

You reached out and wrapped your hand around Regulus’. He gave you a small smile before tugging in you with him.

“This is going to be funny.”

You slipped through quiet corridors behind Regulus as he checked for any “little eyes” that would get into his way. He finally stopped the moment that he saw Sirius and James standing in an empty hallway playing “exploding snap.”

Regulus lightly elbowed you in the side before grinning. He had his wand out and muttered something low. You weren’t able to make out what he said but it didn’t matter. It looked as if someone had a bucket of water and dumped it all over Sirius and James. Both boys jumped back looking around wildly as another explosion of water knocked them off of their feet. James hit the ground first. Sirius reached out to help his best friend only to get hit in the face with water for the third time. He was knocked off his feet and directly on top of James. His elbow crashing into James’ crotch. James howled in pain as Sirius started rubbing his head where he hit the stone floor.

“Pads, stop. You're killing me!”

James shrieked. Sirius was yelling about how truly sorry he was over and over.

You, meanwhile, had to hold back a fit of rare laughter. Regulus, himself, was grinning as he turned the floor to ice. Both James and Sirius were sliding all over the place all the while screaming curse words after curse words.

“Whoever you are! We are going to fuck you up!”

Sirius yelled as Regulus reached down and squeezed your hand.

“This is where we make our exit. They are going to be sliding around for a while.”

You ran after Regulus, until he pulled you into an empty classroom

“That was fun.”

He commented.

“Fucking brilliant. Watching them slide all over the place while looking like drowned ferrets was the best fun that I have had in awhile.”

Regulus smiled, giving you a cocky smile.

“That’s only the beginning. I have a lot better material...if you want to watch.”

You reached up and pulled the taller boy down by his tie. Regulus was clearly a bit surprised but leaned right into the kiss. When he pulled away, you tossed your hair over his shoulder.

“Watching is for babies. I want to help.”

______

@amelie-black

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#Regulus Black #Regulus Black x Reader #Sirius Black #James Potter #marauders au #annon request #timothee chalamet as regulus black #ben barnes as sirius black #aaron johnson as james potter #young marauders #regulus x r eader #reader x regulus #regulus arcturus black #sirius orion black #harry potter fan fiction #One Chance #Once Chance one shot #update

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

Why do I not have the option to copy and paste formatting? Why is that an option I am not given? Who thought that I wouldn’t need that when I’m on my phone? Screw that guy, who I am arbitrarily calling Adam. If anyone knows how to do that, please tell me.

Chapter 6 Pt 2

“There is no fucking way you got a date with her.” Raphael does not even look it up. “No way in hell.”

“And yet the flow chart worked.” He laughs from his lab, shutting off any excess equipment as to not overwork it. “It worked like a charm and she asked me to go to her place so ha.”

”You didn’t show her the chart, did you?”

“I did not.”

“Well, there you go.” Leo looks back at him from his seat on the couch. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.” He slides the door closed. “But I’m planning on being there at six fifty-five so that she knows I value her time.”

“Does the sun set that early?”

“Why do you even ask?” Raph turns a page in his once periodical periodical. “You know he looked it up.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Forgive me for also valuing preparedness.”

“Nobody likes a know it all.”

He grins smugly. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, I,” he gestured to himself, “have a date with a gorgeous girl tonight, one where she has already invited me into her home, and you,” he gestured to Raphael, “are reading a magazine from a company that went out of business two years ago alone.”

“Donnie, don’t be a jerk.” Leonardo looked back at the television. “Raphael brings up a valid point; you tend to act like you know everything, and the actual request wasn’t for a date.”

“How else can I interpret one on one time with her?”

“Well,” he counters, “how do you interpret one on one time with us?”

He blinks. “Wait, so you’re saying she’s… how do you put it?”

“Nah, I don’t think she’s friendzonin ‘im.” Mickey looks up from his drawing. “Think she’s sending signals she doesn’t mean to.” He sets his half-shaded piece aside. “Think about it; she said she’s been all stressed out, right? She died like two weeks ago.” He shrugs. “She’s probably just lonely and needs the company.”

“That’s… actually really insightful of you.”

He grins. “What can I say? I’m a modern McPherson.”

Raph snickers at that. “Donnie is more of a McPher—how old is that movie, anyway? A hundred?

“Hey!” He shoots a glare at his brother. “Respect the classics.”

“Not to interrupt your riveting intro to film class,” Donnie interjects, losing his shit, “but I really need to know what this is before I go, and it’s already fifteen ‘till.”

“Look, maybe she’s interested, maybe she’s not.” Leonardo’s eyes are back on the screen. “Just try to tread carefully and you’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?”

“Again, Raph had a point.”

He groans, walking to the entrance and exit of their home. “You guys aren’t helping.”

“Not our job.”

Leo calls after him. “Be home before six!”

He turns the corner, cradling his head in his hands. ‘I am totally and thoroughly fucked.’

GoodFellas.

Of all the movies in the world, that is the movie you have decided to use to explain these concepts. This is the example piece that you are going to show to the vigilante. All you know is that you had started watching the Phantom Menace and had decided against explaining the concept of racial coding and this is the only other movie that you can think of right now. You have decided to commit, and you are already regretting it, but you decide to figure it out as you go.

You set the pizza on the coffee table, throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave to pop. You do not expect Donatello to be late, so you decided to start now so that they could get started right away. You start walking to the window, stopping at the mouth of the hallway. You look yourself over one more time in the bathroom mirror despite yourself. You do not exactly know why you care so much; this was not a date, and you had not advertised it as one. Still, impressions are important, and the last thing you need is for him to not listen to you because of it. That is what you are telling yourself, anyhow.

You hear knocking against the glass. You check your phone for the time. ‘Five minutes early.’ You smile softly. ‘How responsible.’ You open it up, smiling at your guest. “Welcome, Donatello.” You take a step back. “Please, make yourself at home.”

He barely makes a sound as he steps off the windowsill, looking around your apartment, fully illuminated, for the first time.

After about thirty seconds of his investigation, you clear your throat. “Donnie?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

You smile gently. “You wanna sit down? I bought pizza.”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, sitting down and facing the television screen. “I like your place.”

“Thanks.” You sit down next to him, tucking your feet under you as you flip on the television. “How do you feel about gangster movies?”

“Gangster movies?”

“Yeah.” You list a couple on your fingers. “Scarface, Godfather, all that jazz.”

He shakes his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you make gangster movies legally?”

“That is a long answer. The short version?” You lean forward, taking a slice from the box. “The police are kind to those who cooperate, and people think their stories are fascinating.”

“So they’re documentaries?” He mimics you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. You want something to drink?” You hear the microwave beep as you stand up.

“Water?”

You nod, walking over to pull the popcorn out of the microwave and grab your drinks. “I trust the walk wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all.” The small talk is torture. “Getting to your window was a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t anything too bad.”

“That’s good.” You pour him a glass. “I’ll have to get something for that; maybe a planter or something, so you have a bigger ledge.”

“It’s alright.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “It’s wide enough to stand.”

“Still.” You place his cup on the counter, dumping the kernels into a large plastic bowl. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if one of you guys got hurt trying to come in through the window.” You grab a can of soda out of the refrigerator, sitting down and handing him the glass.

He smiles slightly. “You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that?”

You grin. “I try,” you hum, starting to pull up the movie. “I think you’re pretty cool too, Hamato.”

He chuckles. “You make me sound like I’m fifty.”

“Oh, totally.” You nod in agreement. “You’re an old soul.”

He blinks. “Old soul?”

“Mature, I mean.” You shrug. “I mean, handling the stuff you do with any degree of tact, to me, displays a great maturity you don’t see in most teenagers, myself included.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You get back up for napkins and plates. “Not at all.” You hand him one of each. “It’s an admirable quality, though not one I particularly envy.”

“You think?” His hands linger for a moment longer than typical as he took them.

“Yeah. You want me to turn down the lights for the movie while I’m up?”

His face goes red. “I-I mean,” he stutters, “if you want to.”

“Then I will; shows the image better when it’s dark.” You walk to the wall, flicking off the lights and sitting down next to him, setting your slice on your plate as you turn on the movie.

Your reactions to it are different.

He does not seem what you would call disturbed, but he gets grossly invested in the story extremely quickly. He is noticeably more interested in watching you watch the movie, but he studies the plot intently, noting the more domestic plotline between the lead and his wife in particular. His reaction to the violence is strange to you; he is not aloof, so to speak, but he does not flinch much until the fighting is between Henry and Karen.

You have seen this movie what feels like a thousand times. Whenever you think it applicable, you lean over and whisper to him about the directing, the script, the plot—it is supposed to be a lesson, after all. But you realize that your attention, every so often, shifts to the bed, to your pillow with the knife underneath it. The violence of the movie makes you edgier than you are used to.

About halfway through the movie, you move closer to the boy sitting beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you listen for cues for comments. You don’t notice his reaction, but you do notice how his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You do not object; you were the one who initiated, after all.

“Here’s a psychology relationship thingy you can tell your family about.” You cringe at that poor little girl standing in the hallway. “’That’s all in your head’ is classic gaslighting. I dunno if that’s really your area or not.”

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” He fiddles with the cloth of your jacket absentmindedly. “It’s kinda hard for me to wrap my head around, people staying like that. I mean,” he clarifies, “I get why, but—”

You both tense up as a young man on screen is shot dead by Joe Pesci’s character.

You exhale. “Yeah, I get what you mean.” You shrug. “But folks get scared, ya know? In her case, she doesn’t want to break the family apart, and she’s really into him.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way.” You look up at him. “What can I say? We fall into infatuation so fast with bad people who say what we want to hear.”

“Don’t you mean fall in love?”

You watch as Lorraine Bracco holds a gun to her husband’s face. “Nope. Love is entirely different.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at you.

“Apples and oranges.” You gesture to the television. “Love is supplementary, a beautifully imperfect connection between people.” Your voice becomes smoother, airier. “It’s a bond built on trust and respect. Infatuation is more of an addiction than anything.” You sigh as Liota meets to discuss his relationship with Sorvino. “At least I think so. That’s why love at first sight is a bunch of bullshit; you can’t have that kind of profound trust with someone you just met.” You shrug, looking back up at him. “Then again, what do I know? I’m an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old girl.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He looks back down at you. “I get what familial love is, but whenever Master Splinter talks about his wife, he has a hard time putting what he means into words.”

You hear their guilty verdict. “Totally get that. Articulation is not easy to do.”

A few minutes go by.

“May I be frank?”

“Please.”

You watch as a man drags his wife out of a Christmas party. “This movie is exactly why I don’t ever want to learn how to do the stuff you do. It changes you, all that violence; desensitizes you.” You bring your knees to your chest. “Especially Raphael. I swear, that shift was as dramatic as his, at least at this point in the flick.”

He pauses. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

You close your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’m going to try my best,” you swear, “do everything in my power, to see to it that you guys don’t experience more than you have to.”

You mean it. He can tell.

You two are quiet for the rest of the movie. You explain why certain directing choices were made, connect the beginning with the end, talk about the theme, all while you two watched their fall from grace. When the movie ends, you realize how tangled up in him you are; your head on his chest, legs draped over his with his arms around your waist. You feel the icy air against you, as if his skin attracted it to you. You push the hair out of your face. “So,” you stretch, turning the light back on, “do you wanna see another movie, or do you have a curfew?”

He pauses. “I should honestly probably get home,” he sighs. “If I’m not home early they’ll start getting ideas.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod, completely understanding the reasoning. “You can take the leftover pizza home if you want; the guys’ll probably eat it before I do.”

“Mikey’ll be on cloud nine.” He picks the box off the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You stand at the window, opening it for him.

He climbs onto the windowsill, looking down at you from his perch. “I had a good time.” His face flushed. “We should do this again.”

You nod in agreement. “Definitely.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’ll pick a lighter movie next time.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.” He gives you a thumbs up.

You steal yourself, cupping one side of his face and kissing him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight, Donnie.” You smile. “See ya tomorrow.”

You are a bit concerned he’s going to fall off the windowsill. “Y-Yeah,” he grinned, words slurred. “See ya later, Y/N.” He waved, climbing up and out of your window.

You smile softly, sigh. You flop back on the bed, rolling over. You have not been this at ease since you died.

‘I really like that guy.’ You close your eyes. ‘I really, honestly do.’

You drift off to sleep, dreamless for the first time in too long.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 6 Part 1

Chapter 7

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 6

Day 6 - When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area

Pairing(s): Analoceitmus [ambiguous, can be read romantic or platonic, or a mix], QPR Royality

TWs: Injury mention, swearing, Remus being Remus near the end

–

“I’m going to sue him.”, Logan hissed, attempting to sit up in his hospital bed, “Soulmate or not, how can one man possibly be so irresponsible?! I’m definitely going to sue him.”

He winced as he tried to get comfy, but the tough mattress and uncomfortable bunching of the sheets said suffer.

And boy, was he.

Logan Sanders was an immaculate, careful man. Had been since he was a child. A neat and tidy lad who - upon learning of the rules of fate - made it his utmost mission to spare his soulmate any pain or anguish for as long as he could manage.

His soulmate, however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

From childhood, Logan found himself with sudden knee pains from scrapes he never fell for, abrasions he had caused no friction to gain, and the occasional shoulder or back pain as if he’d been pushed over when he was standing perfectly upright. At least the universe had decided to spare humanity the anguish of leaving soulmates with the physical injuries that came with the pain, but it was only a minor comfort.

Logan couldn’t say he hadn’t expected a lot of rough and tumble from his soulmate after his elementary school years, but really; a broken leg, facial burns, and a splintered forearm? “This is absolute bullshit.”, he bitterly muttered, “Barely hours apart! How is that even possible?!”

His ranting went ignored by the nurse who came to administer his medication; thankfully science had worked out a wonderful little clear pill that could banish the pain from particularly debilitating soulmate pains. The little bastards were expensive - the true pain is always capitalism within the medical world - but Logan’s job paid handsomely. Say what you will about computer nerds and whatnot, but programming for the right people lets you make some seriously high end bread. None of that homemade farmer’s market shit.

Unfortunately, he’d have to wait about a week for his pains to ebb gently into nothingness until the klutz of a man fate paired him with got into MORE trouble. Thus Logan couldn’t get back to his work. His leg was, for all intents and purposes, broken so the staff couldn’t let him go home. He couldn’t simply drive home himself either, his splintered forearm saw to that. And Logan couldn’t even ask his roommate Emile to bring him his work laptop to try and keep his workload at bay, his left eye was too cloudy and painful to concentrate on a screen.

Yes; his soulmate BETTER be paying his hospital bills.

Realisation struck Logan; his soulmate is obviously just as injured, ergo it’s a high probability that he could be somewhere within the hospital too. Using his good hand to reach for a pen, and absolutely dreading adding to his pain, Logan poked the tip into his good arm, wincing as he first attempted to contact them with simple morse code, “My/ Name/ Is/ Logan. Who/ Are/ You?”

He waited for a response, fearing he would have to start scratching his name onto his arm when he felt the little jabs in response, “Janus.” Great. He FINALLY had a name to put on the lawsuit. Logan, already wincing at the bee-sting pain from the pen, he jabbed out another message,

“Are/ You/ Currently/ Staying/ At/ Stokes/ General/ Hospital?”

The reply came cryptically,

“Yes / I / -”

Logan wasn’t sure why his soulmate had suddenly stopped replying. Had a nurse confiscated whatever his soulmate was using to poke himself? Either way, Logan would have to be content with the knowledge his soulmate was at least close by. He truly had no idea how close until two very disgruntled voices were within earshot of his room door,

“Brilliant, I just adore being ousted from my comfortable bed so I could spend even longer looking at your delightful face.”

“Oh, like you’re the victim here, asshole! You’re the one stabbing yourself and fucking up my unbroken arm!”

Logan watched them both argue outside of his room door. Both men were sporting similar injuries to his own; the first one that had spoken, refined looking gentleman with sharp features and neat blonde hair, had the left side of his face bandaged heavily. Meanwhile the other man, sporting raven hair and eye bags that could carry a month’s worth of groceries, was fitted with a cast on his left forearm. Both of them were on crutches, though Logan couldn’t see if either had a genuine cast.

“Ahem. Gentlemen?”

Logan called to them, watching as both turned to meet his gaze. He lifted the pen in his hand and asked, “I take it one of you is Janus?”

The man with the bandages over his eye, Janus, nodded, “That would be me.”

The man with the broken arm looked confused, “Wait, so, you’re the one who was ramming a pen into their arm? Damn.”, he turned, begrudgingly to the first man, “I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“Really you needn’t-”

“Then I shan’t.”

Janus glared at the other man’s snark, but Logan found it rather delightful. Clearing his throat once more, he breached the topic, “I take it that means we three are soulmates?”

“Four.”

Logan and Janus looked to the third man as he explained, “Your leg doesn’t have a proper cast on it, this asshole doesn’t have one either,”, Janus gifted the man a half glare and a middle finger before he continued, “And since I don’t have one, it’s pretty obvious there’s a fourth musketeer.”

Fair to say, Logan was impressed, even Janus was hiding the tiniest hint of admiration as he retorted, “And are we to call you Sherlock or D’artagnan?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, fuck you. My name’s-”

“VIRGIL!!”

The man, Virgil, nearly lept out of his skin, jerking his arm and giving the three of them a jolt of pain. Logan felt relieved he’d only have to put up with it for a few more days once the medicine took effect.

In the doorway stood a man who could only be described as unnecessarily handsome, clad in a burgundy bomber jacket and a Nightmare Before Christmas shirt that seemed out of place on someone who stood poised like the protagonist of a romance anime. Logan noted he and Janus both checked to see if his leg was broken; good to know they had similar tastes even if the man’s lack of a cast dashed their hopes. Said handsome man made a beeline for Virgil, only to receive a swat and a motion to back off,

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!!!”, Virgil hissed and took a deep breath. ‘Princey’ let out a fond huff, “You should be so lucky, Bring Me The Depression, do you know how worried Pat and I were when we couldn’t find you!? This, dearest Emo Nightmare, is karma at its finest-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Roman. Where’s Pat? He’s gonna wanna meet my soulmates.”

Roman blinked, finally registering Logan and Janus just watching the two of them reunite. Clearing his throat, Logan made the introductions, “I’m Logan Sanders, this gentleman is-”

“Janus Delgado. Charmed I’m sure.”, Janus butt in, “Really, Logan, I can introduce myself. Unlike some people.”

Virgil flipped him off just in time for Roman to frown in confusion, “And…. you’re all sure you’re soulmates? I mean, no offense but you don’t...”, he picked his words carefully, his face contorting at the effort, “....act like soulmates?”

The three of them looked between one another and shrugged, “To be perfectly fair - Roman, yes? - we have all literally just met today under…. Less than optimal circumstances. I doubt you and your soulmate, assuming you’ve found them, hit it off instantly.”

Roman blinked, “Kind of, we didn’t have any problems like this, quite honestly...”, he almost sounded guilty at that notion, “The worst we have to deal with is his cat allergies-”

Out in the hallway, a couple of nurses hurriedly walked past and allowed another man into the room who immediately lit up at the sight of Roman and Virgil, “There you both are!!! I got held up at the vending machine, but when I came back you were both gone!”

“Patton! How glad I am to see you once more!”, Roman beamed, pulling the taller man into a hug and planting a dramatic kiss upon his cheek, to which Logan, Janus, and Virgil simultaneously met with an ‘ugh’. Perhaps they were more alike than they first assumed.

Patton turned to meet Janus and Logan’s gaze, looking back to Virgil who explained, “They’re two of my soulmates, Pat.”

For a moment, the tall excitable ball of sunshine looked like he was about to pop with joy when Roman held up a hand to interject, “Pardon me, but ‘two of’?”, and cast his confusion towards Virgil who explained, “Our last soulmate has a broken leg, it’s the only injury we can’t account for.”

Patton and Roman shared a momentary look, drawing Logan’s attention, “Roman? Patton? Are you both alright?”. The two seemed to play eye contact rock-paper-scissors to decide who would answer, with Roman losing apparently.

“When exactly did you feel the pain in your leg?”

“Couple hours ago” “Around three?” “Precisely 3:27 pm.”

Came the chorus of answers. Janus and Virgil both shot Logan a look, to which he quietly murmured, “It never hurts to provide a little extra clarity.”

“Apparently so,”, Janus began, before shifting his partial gaze to the couple, “So, are you lovebirds-”

“Qpp’s.”, Patton corrected quietly, to which, Janus did apologise, “Pardon me. So, are you queer platonic saps going to clue us in to why exactly you asked us such a specific question?”

Roman sighed, “I ask because my brother, Remus, broke his leg at that exact same time today. Pat and I were going to visit him right after we’d checked in with Virgil.”

The three soulmates shared a collective look, but the first one to pipe up was Virgil, “You have a brother?! Why am I only finding this out now, I’ve known you for 12 fucking years, Roman! What the fuck!?”

Logan exasperatedly ran a hand down his face as he tried to maneuver himself out of his bed and into one of the hospital’s wheelchairs, Janus offering a hand to him, “Virgil, as much as I would love to listen to you and Roman bicker back and forth, could we possibly save such trivialities for after we meet our fourth soulmate?”

This time Patton piped up, “Oh, um, you may not want to do that just yet-”

As if on cue, roughly six or seven medical staff rushed by, causing Patton and Roman to quickly look around the doorway, only to turn back to the others, “Well, no time like the present. Patton, if you help Virgil, I’ll help Janus once Logan can shimmy into that wheelchair.”, Roman assigned as he offered an arm for Logan to hold onto while he got himself in the chair. Noting the context clues, Logan was rightfully worried, especially as he felt a new pain in his hand, only to note that while Roman and Patton helped them move, Virgil and Janus seemed to be experiencing more pain in their legs than before. In the moment, Logan did feel a little bad that the pill he’d taken hours earlier was saving him from too much additional pain. Approaching the hospital room the medical staff had gathered within, the group were greeted with a wild scene.

A scruffy man strikingly similar in looks to Roman - albeit sporting a thin moustache and silver hair streak - wearing a leg cast was holding a crutch in one hand and an honest to god butterfly knife in the other, standing atop his hospital bed, raving like a lunatic and gesturing frantically to an empty space in the room,

“NOW WILL SOMEBODY FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE?! ME AND THIS BEAR WANNA GO CATCH HORNY FISH AND SHIT IN THE WOODS!!”

Charming.

Logan glanced over at Patton and Roman, the question clear on his face just like their answer. That was Remus alright. He watched Roman talk with a nurse trying to calm Remus, “We gave him some painkillers to ease his leg pains, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this much!”

“Oh, Remus has always been like this with medication, I should’ve warned the nursing staff.”, he groaned, “But that doesn’t explain-”

“He must’ve pushed the blue button behind his bed,”, Logan sighed, already anticipating Roman’s question, “The medical staff likely assumed Remus was coding and thus went into action. That’s why they’re here right now.”

Roman’s expression confirmed that was indeed going to be his question. As Roman went to help the nurses tranquilise Remus’ wild flailing, and while his other two soulmates stood by to watch the chaos - in varying degrees of worry and strange admiration bordering on attraction for his disregard for social norms - Logan tried to come to terms with the facts.

He had three very different soulmates, and by the looks of it? He’d have to get used to frequent hospital stays….

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

This one’s probably on the weirder side, but uh, yeah, I hope it’s still a good read! [Also sorry these have been a little late lately TTvTT] @tsshipmonth2020 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#analoceitmus #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #royality #qpr!royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #my fics #fanfics #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #this one just went wild #i dunno what to tell you #reads a little more like analogical and demus if i think about it #but whatever it was fun

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

KEEPING UP WITH THE ARIZAS

Michael “Riz” Ariza x Reader

Chapter 6: “The first date: first attempt”

Word Count: 2.3k

Author comments: Warning of some angst, and I'm not even sorry. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, more or less 'cause I cut it to keep Antonio's part, but credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @leaalfred ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“I can't believe you're gonna actually do'et”.

Your father appeared from nowhere, resting a shoulder on the door frame, cross-armed. He looked at you from top to bottom, rolling his eyes with a snort, while you put your makeup on point with a red lipstick. The rest was somewhat light, but you needed to highlight your lips, one of your best attributes.

“Do what, dad?”

“Trying to ask Riz out”.

“Why?” You inquired turning at him, with both hands supported on the edge of the sink, twisting your neck some inches to the right.

“'Cause he's my friend, my brother”.

“Then, I just have to kill you. Which is a good idea 'cause he could feel guilty for god knows why, so he would want to take care of me. Maybe live together at the ran—”.

“He's older than you. And not even his type”.

“The encouragement you give me… Wao, papá!”

“I'm trying to protect you”.

“Well, thank you. I don't need it, okay? I've been preparing myself since I have fifteen. And… shouldn' you let me commit my own mistakes?”

“Good. I don' wanna hear you cry after him laughing at this… bullshit”.

Those last words felt like a knife stabbing your chest. Almost five years working on it. Trying to be his friend, losing your ass even when he was simply breathing close to you, taking interest in whatever he could be doing (...). It wasn't only a physical attraction. You really found him very intelligent, funny, hard-working and loyal. And it could sounds bad, but sometimes you wished to be one of Vicki's girl, because of the much care he had with them. Almost five years working on it, arming yourself of courage, just to see how it burned among the flames of your insecurities at the end.

You raised your eyes subtly outlined, looking your reflection in the mirror. One minute ago, you were feeling stunning, amazing, out of this world, even sexy wearing a tight black dress over your knees and a heart shaped neckline. It was the first time you were dressing like that, trying to surprise him, being used to see you on your ‘rider outfit’ which is a cool one too. Now you felt ridiculous, with some painful lashes running under your chest, snorting because you knew your father was right. Taking off the makeup from your face with a wipe, your father put his head out the door.

“Are you re—? What are you doing? For god's sake, (Y/N), when I get to the party, there will be no beer! Those fucking prospects drinks more than the fuckin' Charlie Sheen on his day off”.

“I forgot I have an exam next week, leave to the clubhouse”. You just said, cleaning the red color covering your pinky lips.

“Mi amor, listen…” He raised a hand close to you, being stopped before he could touch you.

“Dad, just fuckin' leave! Okay? I'm fucking fine”. Interrupting him, you threw the wipe inside the sink with a sudden move. “I fuckin' get it. Your brother. Older than me. With interest in women, not in… in… I don' even know what the fuck I am”.

“Cariño...”

“A fuckin' clown, dad. That's what I am. A. Fucking. Clown”. You pointed out every word on air with your left forefinger.

“You don' need to be this rude”.

“Well, fuck you for breaking my fuckin' heart, instead of telling me ‘go, do it and if he doesn't want you, I'll hold you’. That's what a normal father would say to his daughter”.

“I didn' mean to hurt you”.

“But you did”. Turning at your father to face him, you took off the black dress raising it on air hanging it in your fingers. “I had to work at Bernardino's one month to afford it, and all the makeup you see here. From dusk till dawn, surrounded by creepy drunk old men”.

“I could have paid it for you”. He said then, with a guilty tone of voice because of everything.

“But, that's not the point, dad! I was trying to show Riz I can also earn my own jack”. You leaned towards the toilet where you left your huge Mayan's black shirt to wear it. “Go to the party, get drunk with your brothers, fuck some chick and have fun”.

Your father toured his incisors with the tip of his tongue, nodding in silence. After clean the mess in the bathroom and keep all your stuff there, you just lay down in bed hugging one of your big pillows. You were waiting for that weekend for five long days away at the university, as every week since you move out of Santo Padre to San Diego.

You didn't know you had keep it. You totally forgot it and finding it brings you bittersweet memories of that night and what happened the days after. Giving a spin over the black high-heels, putting well the tight dress on, you have a look in the mirror. Still fitting like a glove to your anatomy. And you're incredibly stunning in it. You like it, you have always liked. But you don't feel like you can use it. It's like if it is going to bring some bad luck to your relationship.

“Shit, you look like a cheap bitch, baby”.

You were so self-absorbed, that you haven't realized Riz was resting his back on the door frame.

“Yeah, I'm gonna ask Vicki to be one of her girls, 'cause you can't even find your small cocky”.

Teasing each other all the time it's a current mood. And you love it. Turning at him and focus all your attention in your husband, your eyes notice the way he tied his hair in a small black bun with some bristles falling by his temples. No matter how many years can pass away, he will run you out of air with the most minimal detail.

“Are we celebrating something?” Riz lifts up an eyebrow, licking his lips. Not being nervous, but excited about the idea. “I know every special date and today isn't one of them”.

“It's just a dress, Michael”.

“Really? I was about to ask you to marry me again”. He chuckles crossing both arms on his chest covered by leather.

“I bought it seven years ago, for a… date I should have had, and that never happened”.

Riz's jaw get tense from zero to one hundred, just in a second. His gesture turns into somewhat more confused, when he notices the sadness and the pain in your voice. You never told him about that night, but maybe could be a good moment to do it. Your eyes come back to your own reflect in the mirror, before taking off the shoes, heel against heel losing almost seven inches of high.

“One month working in a… bikers' pub, enduring bullshit, to buy it. But I stayed at home”.

Riz isn't sure if he wants to know how a guy broke your heart, but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know why you kept that dress, seeming it like the dead body of a bad memory. And you're talking about something that happened seven years ago. Before being together, so he's starting to make his own Netflix movie in his head.

“I was i—”.

“I don' wanna fuckin' hear it”. He just raises a hand slightly, shaking his head.

“Why?”

“I don' give a fuck about what you did seven years ago”.

His hardened voice gives you some chills around your back, knowing he's really angry because of what he's imagining. Something too far from reality.

“Take that fuckin' dress off”.

And that is the best confirmation to know the grade of his annoyance.

“Riz, I wanna tell you something”.

“Fuck, no! You have told me a million times that I was your first love. Your only one. But something happened seven years ago that broke your fuckin' heart and fucked you down, and you keep that… clothe you were gonna use with him. How the fuck should I feel, ah? So you lied to me and… what? I was the second choice?”

“You should be a film director”.

“Good, thank you for first hurting me and then fucking laughing in my face”.

“Could you plea—?”

“FUCK, NO, (Y/N)! I'm fucking disappointed right now!”.

For a second you could swear that your husband is about to cry, with his eyes getting reddened. You can feel the tension in his body, seeing how furious his chest grabs and expels the air.

“It was my father”. You say then, before giving him the opportunity to leave the room. “My father broke my heart, actually. Even if the date wasn't with him. It was me who didn't go”.

Now, he's a little more confused, turning at you after giving you his back some seconds ago.

“Actually, me and… the ‘other guy’... we never talked about having a date. I just… wanted to force it. I mean, he was my friend. The point was come to the clubhouse and maybe earn some time together, alone”.

Yes, you're making him suffer a little, but he never was clear with you. So it's a kind of payback. And you know exactly what he is thinking. Clubhouse, Mayan, friend, seven years ago: Angel. He has been your best friend since ever.

“I can't fuckin' believe you…” He whispers letting his head falling down, until his chest meets his chin, laughing between teeth bitterly.

“But my father told me that he would never notice me, as I wanted, as I wished it. Do you wanna know why?”

“Fuck, no. And fuck you, (Y/N)”.

You have to do a big effort to not break in laughter, walking closer towards him.

“Because he was his brother. He was loyal. And a little bit older than me. Apparently I wasn't his type either”.

“I'm fuckin' done with this… bullshit, (Y/N)”. He says then whilst moving his hands about to lose his mind, walking away from the main room, looking for his helmet to leave the house.

You don't move a single inch of your body, waiting just one second before raising your voice.

“But he finally noticed me, 'cause I broke a bitch's nose who was talking shit about him!”

Silence. You can't hear his heavy boots touring your home. Riz is standing next to the principal door, and you don't need to be looking at him to know it.

“That night when Coco was full patched! I was ready to go and ask him out!” You add dancing your hips from the left to the right slightly, waiting patiently for Riz to coming back. “I was mentalizing myself for almost five years to do'et! But I thought my father was right! And I decided not to do it 'cause… I was more scared of losing that friendship, than him breaking my heart”.

Even if that last sentence is recited something low, you're sure he has heard it, with his steps walking through the hallway right to the room.

“But… well, I finally got my date, but I didn't use that dress just in case it brought me bad luck. I was too in love, to ruin it for a superstition. And I kept it in a bag”.

Riz appears again with pursed lips and his dark eyes on his feet. A little ashamed because of his words, but still being mad because of you making him believe something it wasn't true just to tease him.

“And…” Taking some steps close to the Mayan, you grab the helmet to leave it above a chair, placing his hands on your waist after that. “I made him the love of my life, my best friend, my confidant, the prize of my good karma, my soulmate…”

“All that?”

“Nope, I made him a lot of things more. But those are the most important”. Traveling your hands to his shoulders and lifting up yourself on your tiptoes, you kiss your husband with all the love you feel inside your chest. Slowly, enjoying it.

Sometimes you forget how lucky you are of having Riz by your side, and sometimes he does it too, but you know you own the whole world being together. He's the most kind man of all. The most loving, pleasing and empathic husband you could ask for. Always working hard to make you smile, to make you feel like a goddess, to make you feel proud of what you two have. Michael lives for you, and you live for him.

Deepening the kiss a little more by straining his tongue between your lips, his fingers go up to your cheeks caressing them and pushing you closer to him, with his scent intensifying and flooding your lungs. His mouth molding perfectly to yours, as always, so slow that steal you a soft gasp tangling your hands on his wrists.

“I have never felt love for anyone it's not you, mi rey”. You say almost in a whisper, when you pull away yourself a second to take some air, touching his nose with yours. “And marry you for a second time sounds so good…”

“Change your clothes, mi amor”. Riz soughs, eyes closed, with a silky loud tone bristling your skin. “We're leaving”.

“To Las Vegas?” You sound excited as a five years old about to go to DisneyWorld for the first time, even if you're already married.

“You wanna marry me again?”

“I wanna marry you every day of my life, Riz”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #michael riz ariza x reader #riz ariza x reader #riz ariza #michael riz ariza #keeping up with the arizas

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Living with Tim Drake

Notes: I got request for Damian and SO moving in together (which I will get to some day). But then I kept thinking about Tim and how I haven’t shown him much love lately. So I wanted to do a little character study of him. Words: 1,818

You didn’t expect a message so quickly. After all, you just posted the ad for a roommate an hour ago. You texted back saying you’re free to talk and your phone buzzes in your hand. You quickly answer, bracing yourself for what kind of freak is in need of a place to stay so urgently.

“Hello. This is Tim. I’m a college graduate and currently doing an internship at Wayne. Your place is really close by so it’s perfect for my commute.”

Wayne is a little more than 5 kilometers away from your place. Definitely a length you wouldn’t like to walk on a daily basis. Especially since your neighborhood isn’t the best. But hey, it still beats Crime Alley and Arkham, right?

“Hi, Tim. This is Y/N. But you obviously already know that. So I’m going to do a quick background check before I send you my address. I mean, you understand, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” he answers right away but you could almost hear his nerves. He goes quiet for a bit and then you hear a notification that someone just sent you a message. “I don’t really have any social media accounts or anything--” You’re suspicious already. “But I am in the Gotham Gazette a lot.”

“What?” you instinctively say. Not thinking. Ignoring the image of the screenshot he sent you. “What did you say your last name was?” You’re already flipping open your laptop and opening the Gazette website.

“Drake. Wayne. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

When he shows up at your door with a single duffle bag that wouldn’t even fit all of your pants, you greet him with a raised brow. “You know, I really thought this was going to be some sort of practical joke but you are him.”

He laughs nervously, “Yeah… Living with that nightmare every day.”

You stare him from inside your apartment before you laugh and let him in. You lounge over the kitchen counter and offer him some coffee. His eyes instantly brighten up at the caffeine rush.

“This is really good.”

“Yeah? I work at a cafe nearby and it turns out I like making coffee.”

He looks at your set up behind him, a small commercial espresso machine with an extract bar with two spouts and a steam nozzle to warm up the milk, and a coffee grinder filled to the brim with whole coffee beans.

He looks back at you quickly. “Please let me live here,” he blurts out with full conviction. It stuns you and then you laugh. “I’ll pay double your asking price.”

You stop laughing then. “Deal.”

Tim settles in quickly in your apartment since he doesn’t have too many things. A week’s worth of clothes, his laptop, two pairs of shoes, and some toiletries.

You had a roommate before him but she just disappeared half a year ago. You called her family and it turns out that she ran off with a lover. You thought she would be back in a month’s time but 6 months have gone by and her advance payments are about to run out.

Needless to say, Timothy Drake-Wayne is now sleeping in a pastel purple bedroom littered with motivation posters and 30-Day challenge workouts.

“You can take them down, you know.”

Tim shrugs, “I kind of like them. They help me get up in the morning.”

You roll your eyes.“Yeah sure.” Tim is not a morning person. He only thinks he is. He’ll wake up past noon. Then when you get home, he’ll greet you good morning even when it’s dark outside.

“Is that a cut?”

Without thinking about it, your hand reaches out to brush back his bangs and look at what is actually a gash on his forehead. “Tim, it’s still bleeding. Wash it!!”

Before he could reply, you go to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. You start fussing over the antiseptic, cotton, and gauze while he’s just staring at you. “Tim, wash it under the sink,” you repeat.

A little dazed, Tim finally gets up and goes to the sink. You wait for him to finish, with a towel ready to dry his face. As soon as he’s done, you start dabbing the antiseptic on his forehead.

“Hey. That doesn’t hurt.”

You make a grim face, a look of disgust really. “Is that why you didn’t treat it? Because you’re afraid it’ll hurt.”

He laughs, “No no. It’s just-- Usually when Alfred does this, it stings.”

There are so many things you want to say to that. Who’s Alfred? Why don’t you tend to your own wounds? What happened? But instead, you say, “Do you often get into fights at Wayne or something? I always thought the people there are either frail-bodied nerds or millionaires too afraid to mess up their cuticles.”

Tim laughs a little louder, “Why does it have to be at Wayne? I could have gotten this while saving children from a human trafficking ring down by the docks.” He raises an eyebrow at you.

You narrow your eyes, unamused, “What a coincidence. After work, I just put the Joker back in Arkham Asylum.”

He shakes his laughter, making it harder for you to put the gauze on. So you grab his chin to keep him steady and then expertly placed it on his gash with one hand. His eyes follow your hands, making him appear cross-eyed and you almost laugh. Then his eyes widen.

“Wait a minute. Did you just get off work? It’s almost 6? PM?”

You roll your eyes but you don’t really meddle with his sleeping schedule. He usually leaves the apartment when the sun is coming down and you never hear him come in. But you just assume his internship at Wayne is at night.

You wonder if he gets paid for it because he comes in 7 days a week, every night and sometimes even in the afternoon (or god forbid in the morning). But he doesn’t really need the money so maybe it’s a family obligation thing?

Sometimes though, like once or twice a month, he gets a day off. He’ll sit with you on the couch while you drink the mochas you made and binge-watch NCIS.

“You know…” you say one day, hugging your mug to yourself. “You never did tell me why you chose to live here.”

“I did, didn’t I? It’s close to Wayne--”

“Bullshit,” you call out. “I get that you bike to work so it’s an easy commute but you own part of Wayne. I know you can get a driver to get you there or work from home or not work at all if you wanted to.”

Tim looks at you for a moment before he goes quiet. He’s staring into his mug and lightly shaking it to watch the liquid move around inside.

You suddenly want to slap yourself, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to know--”

“No, it’s okay,” he says, smiling. He places the mug on the coffee table. He grabs the remote to lower the volume down and then hunches with his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the screen.

“It was just good timing when I saw your post. It was getting a little crowded at the manor.”

You keep looking at him and wonder if you should stop him. This almost looks painful for him but Tim keeps going.

“When I first got there, I was the only one there. Dick has his own place. Jason was--” he shrugs, “It was just me, Bruce, and Alfred.” Alfred, you now know, was actually their butler, but Tim talks about him more like a parent, to both him and Bruce Wayne.

“It was great. Mostly quiet. Peaceful. And then like a hurricane, all of them just came, one by one. Dick, Jason, and then Damian. It was a nightmare. We were at each other’s throat. Literally!” he’s staring wide-eyed at you, half-hoping you’ll know he’s telling you the truth. “And I couldn’t get a single good night’s sleep. I just-- I needed my own place. Away from them.”

Tim releases this long sigh, one that feels like he’s been keeping for a while. “When it was just me, Bruce, and Alfred, I never noticed it because I was too self-absorbed-- about the adoption and the--” he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights then coughs and continues, “I didn’t notice that they weren’t as happy as I was. That they were in silent mourning.”

“So when my brothers were at the manor, Bruce and Alfred-- They were shocked but I’ve never seen them look happier. It was so small, almost barely a hint of a smile. And I just--” He sighs again, this time leaning back to rest his head against the couch. “So I feel a little guilty about leaving.”

You wait in case Tim had more things to get off his chest. This is the first you’ve heard him talk in broken sentences. He’s usually a lot more composed that his sentences are always grammatically correct, full-structured, and well-phrased. Like listening to an essay.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you ask, “Do you regret leaving?”

Tim Drake stares at the ceiling. He visits the manor every now and then but not much has changed. They’re still fighting a lot, with less intent to kill, but still enough to seriously maim. But really he misses seeing Alfred every day, helping him in the garden and eating his home cooking.

And Bruce. He wonders if Bruce is doing fine. If he’s happy Jason is back or proud to finally have his own son fighting side by side with him. He hopes Bruce’s is a little upset he left. He wishes he’d mourn for him a little like he did with Dick and Jason.

But is he happy? Tim was feeling overwhelmed by the past that his brothers brought back with them. So much pain, regrets, and hatred. He never knew families could be so complicated. One minute they wanted to murder each other and the next they’re risking their own lives to save you. ‘Do I regret it?’ he wonders. ‘Do I regret doing what Dick and Jason have done, leaving the nest-- the cave and the Titans-- to find my own way of life? My own path?’

‘Not one bit.‘

Then he turns to you with every intention of saying just that. He looks at you while you hold your white Superman mug in your hand, your lips hovering over the rim and the steam rises up to your face. He watches the light smoke dance as your breath goes in and out.

Your eyes are staring at him with your hair hanging down, framing your face. He watches your cheeks slowly go red and your eyes widen. You look away, missing the same shade of red covering Tim’s cheeks.

“Crap.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#DC fanfiction #DC imagines #DC reader insert #Tim Drake #Tim Drake fanfiction #Tim Drake imagine #Tim Drake x reader #Timothy Drake #Timothy Drake fanfiction #Timothy Drake imagine #Timothy Drake x reader #watchtower-feed #acropen #lexyartem

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anigodd · 3 years

Text

part 1 of a new thingy

Inspired by “What One Must” by JumpingInMudPuddles on A03, specifically the last chapter (6). Also inspired by Stephen King’s ‘Misery’.

Trigger warnings: severe broken bones, gore, mentions of being chained, depictions of severe pain, swearing, yelling(?), mentions of death (not major)

I’m back on my bullshit where I sink my greedy little claws into a character and make them suffer for no reason :))

—————————

When Phil was put under house arrest, he was more amused than intimidated. He listened to people walk around him as they led him to his house with a small smile (and if that unnerved the little squad that was escorting him, it wasn’t his fault entirely). Tubbo had told him why he was being incarcerated, sure, but he nearly laughed at the hesitation and fear Quakity exhibited when told to put the monitor on his ankle. He saw the poor boy’s hands shake so hard when he was clasping the iron monitor on him that he nearly offered to do it himself. Almost. Fundy and Ranboo, well, he didn’t have anything against them. They didn’t let him escape but they also didn’t do anything remotely violent towards him besides standing and watching him.

Yet.

So, Phil hatched a plan. He wasn’t going to sit in his house like a good little boy and expect to be let off because of his ‘good behavior’. He had shit to do. People to see. Anarchy to plan.

And if he missed seeing his boys, could you blame him? They had just managed to bring Wilbur back to life, able to see his real smile, able to hold him again, able to just be in his middle son’s presence. And if Phil often woke up in the middle of the night in a panic to check to make sure his son was still breathing, could you blame him? He and Wilbur had yet to talk about what happened but he was confident that they would understand each other better than they have in years.

Phil wasn’t too worried about Techno but he knew his eldest would begin to worry if he didn’t visit within a week. Though Techno would never admit it, he worried about Phil being in L’manburg. He would offer up his guest bedroom, gaze facing away from Phil as he fiddled with his sleeves, hoping for Phil to stay longer. Phil would warmly smile at his eldest and tease him, making a blush creep on the pinkette’s face as he accepted the offer. It never failed to warm his heart to know that he was still wanted by his sons.

And Tommy....they still hadn’t managed to find him yet. His youngest had always been a spitfire—passionate and always burning—but it often got him into trouble. Hence, the exile. Phil had sighed deeply when Techno told him as his eldest hid snickers behind his hand while they ate dinner. They were sure he would show up in a few days, but then a week, then two weeks, then a month went by and they were beginning to get worried.

Phil couldn’t handle to potential of losing another son, especially Tommy. The kid had barged into the house so many years ago and immediately brought chaos and liveliness into their little cottage. He taught Wilbur to embrace his hobbies and Techno to laugh. He helped his two boys to bond with Tommy as the glue.

Tommy taught Phil how to be a better father.

And if Tommy was gone alongside Wil, what kind of father was he? ————————— He probably should’ve expected that people would be checking to make sure he was still in his house. It’s why he was so caught off-guard by the butt of an axe swinging into his temple and knocking him to the ground. Black spots danced in his vision while his ears rang. He groaned when he was yanked to his feet and dragged back to his house, head pounding and thoughts jumbled.

He probably blacked out for a bit because suddenly a healing potion was being poured into his throat and the worried face of Tubbo swam into his vision.

Phil was...lying on the floor?

“What the fuck?” he mumbled.

He tried to move his arms but found that they were held down by something cold and heavy. Phil quickly snapped out of his dazed state and followed where his body was laying on the floor in front of his bed, the chains on his wrists, to the shackles on the walls.

These bastards just chained him to the wall! Aw, hell no.

“Tubbo,” Phil began, “why am I chained to the wall?” His voice was deceivingly polite but rage was evident in his eyes.

Tubbo held back a flinch at the hatred directed at him and motioned for Quakity and Fundy to stand beside him. Ranboo was not there.

Phil looked each of them in the eyes, reveling in their fear before Quakity spoke.

“The President has increased the severity of your, Philza Minecraft’s, sentence due to your escape attempt. As a result, you must be shackled to your house alongside the ankle monitor in order to prevent another escape. Any other attempts may be met with severe consequences.” Quakity’s voice wavered as Phil’s glare turned downright menacing.

However, Phil quickly turned to Fundy as his once-grandson spoke.

“Phil, listen, we didn’t want to have to do this but—“

“Don’t talk to me, Fundy, I think you’ve already done enough,” is all Phil said before turning to Tubbo, ignoring the hurt look he got.

He raised an eyebrow. “So, Mr. President,” he mocked, “how long is my sentence now?”

Tubbo hesitated and looked out the window before responding.

“Until Dream thinks you’re no longer a threat,” he said softly.

Phil blanched. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Dream could want Phil out of the way for a hundred different reasons, but each revolved around his sons. And now Phil was stuck.

He was stuck, but not hopeless.

Hell. Fucking. No.

He didn’t see Tubbo and his entourage leave his house nor did he hear the doors close. He was too busy formulating a plan—one that included breaking one of the most important rules in the Dream SMP:

No flying. —————————

Phil has dislocated his shoulder many times, but each time he was either in a battle or chained up like this by bigoted humans. Regardless, it still hurt like a bitch.

It took him 30 minutes in order to get into the right position and another 20 minutes in order to calm himself down and brace his arm against the wall.

One pop later and several loud strings of curses, Phil was able to reach his back where he kept a hidden weapon underneath his kimono. He nearly cried in relief when he felt the hilt of the dagger, clutching onto it and letting his shoulder fall limp but his nerves were on fire.

He dropped the dagger on the floor, closing his eyes and laying on the bed. Phil took deep breaths to prevent him from either passing out, or vomiting, or both.

‘Come on Phil, you have to do this. For Wil, for Techno, for Tommy.’

‘Dadza pog.’

‘Old man injured.’

‘Life alert.’

‘You can do this, Phil!’

‘U u R r’

‘Happy 3 months pog’

‘Phil pop your shoilder back in it’s bad for you.’

He chuckled as the voices mixed with his thoughts. They could be encouraging at times and, in times like these, they were well appreciated. He sat up and braced his arm again, listening to the pop and the stabbing pain that came with fixing a shoulder.

He let out a deep breath and made sure to keep his shoulder still. He had nothing to wrap it with yet and he couldn’t afford to have a permanently stiff shoulder.

Phil picked up his dagger, held it to the chains, and snapped the bloody things like sticks. He rubbed his wrists from where the chains were—not too red, he noted—and immediately went to fetch a sling and some bandages from a chest.

‘Old manza’

‘oh no guys he’s hurt let him be’

‘haha old man hurt’

‘dadza supremecy’

‘badass Phil’

“Shut the fuck up, guys,” he said fondly.

—————————

Luckily, he already had everything he needed packed and ready to go. His house in L’manburg wasn’t really his home and kept it minimally stocked. Unfortunately, he didn’t have potions because Techno always had so many at his house that Phil never needed a brewing stand.

He regrets that because now he’s one arm down in case a fight breaks out.

Phil shakes his head. He can’t think about the ‘what-ifs’ right now. What mattered was getting his shit together and making a break for it out of this gods-forsaken country.

He set his one bag down and double-checked his inventory and weapons. Everything was in order, at least to him. He can feel the buzzing at the back of his head get stronger as the voices told him he was forgetting something.

He ignored them and moved on to the most important part of his plan: his wings.

It had been way too long since he flew but he still kept them groomed and preened under his robes, specifically for emergencies like this.

He shrugged off his clothes, blatantly ignoring the voices yelling about stripping and dad bod, and groaned as he stretched his purple and black wings above his head. Phil shook them out a bit, watching as the feathers puffed and settled down before grabbing his custom clothes and slipping them on.

There wasn’t much of a difference between his other clothes and the new ones except they made room for his wings. He grabbed his trusty bucket hat, bag, and axe before checking his windows.

He didn’t see anyone outside, but it was around midnight. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t notice he was gone until dawn. Phil put his bag over his injured shoulder much to his dismay, held his axe in his good hand, and exited his house.

He checked his surroundings once again and lept off of his balcony in the direction of Techno’s house. Phil glided towards the walls and was nearly free until an arrow pierced his left wing, causing him to tumble and land on his bad shoulder.

His cries of pain alerted his attacker of his location. He shoved all pain to the side, got up, and began to run. More voices followed him and shouts for him to stop were ignored.

He was so close to the walls. If he could make it right up to the edge and push his wings to force him to fly over the edge he would be free.

He just didn’t account for Dream to be joining the search as well. Phil was suddenly pushed to the side and lost his balance, stumbling onto his hands and knees as the masked figure approached him.

Phil knew he could probably fight Dream long enough in order to get away, but there were four other people surrounding him, he was tired, injured, and hadn’t eaten anything all day.

To top it off, Dream clutched his injured shoulder, eliciting a grunt of pain from Phil. He just didn’t understand one thing: how did they find him?

He must have asked that out loud because Dream taps his ankle with his axe and Phil looks down.

That stupid ankle monitor.

He forgot to cut it off when he cut off the chains.

His eyes widened as his breaths now came in gasps. If they put him in chains for one escape attempt, what would they do for a second? And with Dream here? He’ll get no mercy.

“Dream?” Tubbo asked from beside Phil.

He inclined his head towards Tubbo, never taking his eyes off Phil.

“What, uh, what do you want us to do with him?” Tubbo was nervous. He was fidgeting and rocking back on his heels. He probably knew that whatever was going to happen to Phil would not be pretty.

Dream feigned thinking for a moment. “Go back to Phil’s house and wait there for me. I’ll be there in a few minutes after having a chat with Mr. Philza here,” Dream instructed before turning to fully face Phil, his hand tightening on his shoulder.

As he heard their footsteps retreat, Phil felt genuine fear sink its teeth into him. Dream was notorious for his punishments that didn’t fit the crime, and now that Phil has broken two of Dream’s rules, he was sure he wasn’t going to be making it out of L’manburg.

He heard Dream sigh from in front of him and Phil tensed. The voices had gone silent.

“Phil, Phil, Phil, come on. I expected better from you,” he patronized.

Phil could feel anger starting to brew in his chest.

“I give you one simple rule to follow and that was no flying. I even let you keep your wings—“

Let him?!

“And you abuse that freedom by breaking your sentence in order to escape—“

“Oh and I was just supposed to sit there like a good boy?! I fucking hate this place and now you act all high and mighty—“ he was cut off by a hard punch to the cheek.

His head swung to the side as pain laced his face. The action caused his shoulder to be jostled and he let out a groan. The front of his shirt was grabbed and he was met with the white porcelain of Dream’s mask.

“Listen here Phil, I did not work my ass off to keep L’manburg in line just to let you ruin all of my hard work,”

“I-“

“And I think you need to be taught a lesson in obedience,” he said angrily as he let Phil’s shirt go.

Before he could even attempt an escape, a wooden beam came down onto his left leg hard. He could feel his bone crack in his shin followed by a sickening sound that only came with a shattering bone.

Phil screamed.

He tried to move away but his arm was fucked, his eyes were blurry from tears, and now his leg was fucked, too. Dream hefted the beam up again and Phil begged him not too do it again, that he would go to his house quietly, but Dream ignored him. He swore he could see a sadistic smile under Dream’s mask from where Phil was on the ground.

As soon as Dream broke Phil’s other leg, all he heard was the crack of his last hope of freedom and the never-ending fire that consumed his legs.

He must have screamed his throat raw because when he woke up in his bed, he couldn’t speak, walk, or make any new attempts at an escape.

For the first time, he felt hopeless.

(Phil cried for hours after he found out his wings had been chained to the wall instead of his hands.)

#dream smp #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #fanfic

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guardianofjunmyeon · 4 years

Text

Finding Atlantis (part 5)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: Here we are with an update a week later! :3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

You both watch as Chanyeol runs off to collect the new additions to your crew. You furrow your brows. “You’re willing to just leave your ship and your men?” you ask.

He shrugs and starts walking in the direction of the dock. “It’s not my ship. I stole it and scouted a couple of men to help me man it. Jongin, Chanyeol, and Sehun are the only men I really consider my crew.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“They don't really need me, the other men. They can have the ship; they were bound to mutiny any day now. I wasn’t paying them shit,” he laughs loudly. You look at him a bit sadly and then conceal it.

What’s a captain without his ship?

In that case, you suppose you don’t have any reason not to take them on as your own. You grab him by the arm to stop him. “Alright, well let’s shake on it. On our temporary ally ship.” You jut out your hand and he takes it in his without hesitation. A solid handshake is all it takes to put the past aside.

“Let’s get this sea bitch home!” He chirps. You give him a tired look and he shrugs it off unapologetically. “What?”

You can see your ship clearly as you near the dock, and a happiness that you haven’t felt in weeks blossoms in your chest. You missed her. You missed her a fucking lot.

“Byun Baekhyun and the Storm Chaser at the same port yet again. I wouldn’t believe myself if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.” You stop in your tracks as a group of three men walk up blocking your path. The man on the left is short and stocky. His skin looks like poorly cared for leather and a tattoo of a water dragon stretches up his neck and covers half of his face. The man in the center, the man who spoke, has a beard so long and unkempt that you can image a family of lice living there unperturbed for generations. The last man is the tallest of the three, extremely skinny, with a creepy smile gleaming with fake gold teeth.

You clench your fists. You just can’t catch a break being around Baekhyun can you? “You must be its captain, going around and stealing other ships to keep your identity a secret, huh? You must think you’re hot shit, you one-eyed fuck,” the obvious leader of the group says, beard lice landlord.

Baekhyun gasps dramatically and places one hand over his heart and the other over his eye patch, “Hurtful.”

You want to drive your sword through the man’s stomach for assuming Baekhyun, of all people, captain of your beloved ship.

It’s been months since you’ve gotten a chance to really use a sword, and with the way things are shaping, it looks like your drought may soon be over. The men train their eyes solely on Baekhyun, and you want to laugh at the fact that they’re completely overlooking the actual Captain in lieu of having a pissing contest with Baekhyun.

Men make you sick.

You’d rather die than let Baekhyun take these kills and your title from you.

The leader takes a step forward and you reach for your blade. Baekhyun side-steps you and blocks you from their vision. Your cheeks flame in anger. “Hey now guys. Come on, why don’t we all just relax and go our separate ways? I need to get back to my ship. As you can see I’ve got company.” He jerks his thumb in your direction and you grumble low in your throat.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you murmur murderously to Baekhyun’s back.

“Screw you and your whore Byun. There’s quite the reward for you, dead or alive. And another even larger one for that ship there’s captain.” Baekhyun’s mouth turns down in a frown while yours turns up in satisfaction. You’re worth more than he is? A win for you. “We could kill two birds with one gun,” the man continues. His fingers twitch towards the weapon at his side.

Looks like a fight, you think happily. You grab Baekhyun’s shirt to pull him back so that you don’t have to worry about killing him in the crosshairs. Then again, maybe you should slice your way through him first.

He takes a step backwards to your side. “Slap me,” he whispers. You look at him incredulously. “Slap me and follow my lead,” he says a bit louder.

Whatever.

You strike him with all the strength in your body. You aren’t sure why you needed to smack him but you aren’t going to turn down an invitation. The “Ow!” that falls loudly from his lips is genuinely angry. You almost think that the two of you are just going to fight to the death right here to save the idiots -trying to stop you from getting to your ship- the trouble. The sting in your hand feels, so, so good.

He cradles his cheek and his eye flashes angrily before he masks it. “Baby, what’s wrong now?”

You physically recoil in disgust. Baby?

His eye flickers to the side where the men are standing, seemingly amused by what Baekhyun is trying to paint as a couple’s spat. Oh. Realization hits and you jump into your role as the angry lover.

Honestly, you don’t have to try that hard.

“Baby? Don’t fucking call me baby. Why’s it that every time I find myself with you, someone is trying to kill us? Huh? I’m sick and tired of being dragged into your bullshit,” you exclaim. He scoffs, genuinely, or part of the role, you can’t tell. You poke him hard in his chest. “Don’t you think that I want to go out on a walk or go out to eat without…without,” you glance around and spot a woman pushing her child in a stroller. You take in a breath and place you hand over your abdomen. “Without fearing for me and my baby’s life?”

He blinks rapidly. “Baby?” You can hear equal parts repulsion and amusement in the tone of his voice.

“Yes, baby. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but of course this is how you ended up finding out. I’m fucking sick of this Baekhyun!”

“There’s no way that baby is mine. I’ve always used protection.” You raise your eyebrows in amazement. Now that was a flat out lie. His lip twitches upwards.

“Are you calling me a whore?” you hiss.

He holds out his hands in defense. “I’m just saying in your profession I’m sure that you have to entertain lots of men and-” You pull out your sword and point it at his chest.

“The women who sleep with people for money work hard for what they’ve earned, and should be respected for their profession.”

“Don’t act too rash…” he takes a step back and raises his eyebrow minutely. You hope that is some kind of signal, because you don’t know how much longer you can go around acting before you actually drive your sword through his shoulder. “Think of the-” he unsheathes his own sword “Baby!” and hits yours away.

Your arm veers to the right from the impact. Purely from the surprise of it all, you swing your sword back at Baekhyun by instinct. He manages to block the hit. He swings back and nearly nicks your arm; luckily you manage to shift enough for it to swipe at nothing but air. He’s getting too fucking close for this to be part of the act.

You aim for his knee and he jumps back just barely avoiding your attack. “Now!” he shouts to you. It takes you a full second to remember that you aren’t actually supposed to be fighting Baekhyun, but the men still watching you both, fully distracted. You turn your blade on the man closest to you, the man with golden teeth, and swing it across his face. He screams and drops to his knees while Baekhyun drives his sword through the stomach of the shorter man with the tattoo on his face. You quickly slide your blade through the neck of the man on the ground in front of you and turn to find Baekhyun trying to fight off the larger leader of the group.

You run passed the henchmen you each put down, dropping the larger sword you grabbed off Junmyeon to the ground. You snatch the shorter knife on lice beard’s hip while he’s distracted and jump on his back, pulling his head to the side and slicing his throat open with ease. He collapses backwards and you let yourself fall to the ground first and roll far enough way so his dead body won’t crush you.

Your chest rises and falls with adrenaline and you wipe the blood on the blade off onto the thigh of your pants. Baekhyun’s hand lands on your shoulder, “Nice-” your knife drives through his side. “FUCK- why’dyou-shit!” You turn to see him holding both his hands over the shallow gash in his side. You throw the bloodied knife to the ground and stand up, still breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” you say flatly. “Heat of the moment…baby.”

“Oh fuck you,” he spits.

“Come on.” You grab his right arm and throw it over your shoulder. You guide him over to your discarded sword and he hisses with each movement. You let him lean on you as you guide him back, limping, to your ship.

“You did that on purpose,” he accuses. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “You’re smiling about it? I fucking knew it. You’re a fucking liar, what happened to the truce?”

“It’s not that deep a cut. You aren’t going to die from it. We’ll get you stitched up; stop whining.”

Despite your words, he whines all the way onto your ship. Yixing looks at you with raised eyebrows and you shake your head. “Don’t ask right now. Make sure everyone is aboard and let’s put some distance between us and land.”

Yixing smirks and goes off to get the ship in motion. You decide to attend to the crybaby leaning against you yourself. The infirmary isn’t far from the forecastle, where most of the living quarters are. You stumble into the room and let him go so that he can sit down while you search for the supplies needed to fix him up.

He moans pitifully and you shush him. “Shut up, you aren’t that hurt.”

“You aren’t the one who got stabbed.”

“I stabbed you with a purpose. It stings worse than it actually is.” Supplies collected, you kneel down at his side and lift up his shirt. “Hold it up,” you command. He grumbles but follows your instruction. You wipe away the blood surrounding the cut and work on disinfecting the actual wound. Just as you’d said, it’s not large. About as thick as your pinky and as long as your thumb.

He hisses for a long time as you wordlessly clean the wound. When he flinches so hard that he almost kicks the needle from your hand, you sigh and look up at him.

“Hold still,” you admonish.

You return your focus back on stitching the wound so that it will close on its own. It’s not a pretty job, but it will keep. You feel just the smallest twinge of guilt for slicing open his side during your truce, but it fades quickly at the many memories of the times he’s stabbed or shot you.

Truce be damned for a second. He had this coming. You sit up on your knees as you wrap a dressing around his waist to cover the fresh stitches. As a way to silently apologize for going back on your truce, you treat him with gentle fingers and careful touches. You secure the dressing and sit back on your heels satisfied. You exhale softly and feel strangely proud of your work. You feel a small smile etching itself on your lips before you look up and catch Baekhyun looking down at you. His expression unreadable.

Your smile slides off. He lets his shirt drop down to cover the bandages, stark white against his tanned skin, and you feel a bit uncomfortable with the seriousness in his gaze.

“When you’re ready you can come out and we’ll have a meeting with all of the crew.” He nods and then avoids your eyes. You frown and leave the room a bit aggravated with his behavior. What the fuck is his problem?

Jongin comes up to you as soon as you’re out of the infirmary. “Is he okay? What happened?” He sounds as distressed as he looks.

“He’s fine. It’s a little cut. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.” You try to smile reassuringly but it comes out as a grimace at best. Jongin’s eyes widen when he looks behind you and he jogs off with a worried, “Baekhyun!”

Yixing leans against the newly repaired mainmast with knowing eyes. He gives you a thumbs up, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Attention everyone!” you call. A circle begins to form around you. You take note of faces, those you know well, those you know are new, and the ones you know are missing. You feel sadness deep in your heart.

But the ship must go on.

“Everyone, we have added a few new members to our crew as we head off on our new mission. I know that our original plans were to go on that bounty hunt, but circumstances…changed.” You glance towards Baekhyun and his men all standing together. “I know that we have lost a few men in the last weeks, and we will be sending them off in the way that we know how later on tonight.” You watch faces fall across your crew.

“For now, I want to inform you all of our next course of action. I previously discussed this with Junmyeon and Yeri, and they have decided to join me in asking for your support.” You look over and see Yeri nodding her head. Junmyeon looks on tiredly. “We are going after Atlantis…again.” You expect the disgruntled murmurs and hushed whispers among your men. You continue on, “I know that I said we were done trying to find it, but we’ve recently come across some new information.” You motion to Baekhyun. He waves happily to your crew.

You shake your head in annoyance. “If you have any disagreements with our plan, feel free to come talk to me or Junmyeon personally.” No one speaks up so you push on. “Junmyeon, you still have the compass and map I gave you right?” He nods. “I need you and Yeri to make sense of the map as best you can; I’ll be there to explain some things in a minute.”

“Are we not locking Byun up?” Minseok asks.

You sigh. “No, he’ll just pick his way out like a little roach. They'll be sleeping in the crew living quarters. They’re a part of this crew during the duration of this mission; treat them accordingly,” you tell your crew. “As for you all, the rules on this ship are simple. You do your job, you respect everyone on this ship as you would yourself, and you don’t lay a hand on anyone in any way deemed inappropriate. Break these rules and I will personally slice your penis off your body and force you to watch as it’s dropped into the sea,” you tell Baekhyun’s additions to the vessel.

“A-Ay,” Chanyeol stammers.

“That’s ‘Ay Captain’,” you correct.

“Ay, Captain!” all but one repeats. Baekhyun clenches his jaw, refuses to give in. You wait with both hands settled on your hips. Your crewmen look on in a mix of amusement and apprehension at the rising tension.

“I don’t think I heard you Byun.”

He laughs in incredulity. Arms cross over his chest. “Ay, Captain,” he acquiesces. You tilt your head proud of his compliance.

“Alright everyone, let’s get moving!” You crew disperses and you follow Junmyeon with your eyes as he heads into your quarters chatting animatedly with Yeri at his side.

You feel Baekhyun’s presence before you hear him. “It’s him isn’t it? Suho. Junmyeon.”

You nod slowly, staring at the door where your first mate has gone. “Yeah,” you murmur. You know that Baekhyun is still missing a lot of essential information about Junmyeon, about Suho, about his life and how he ended up here practically co-captain of your ship.

You’ll fill him in at some point.

All in due time.

You don’t want to think about all of this quite yet, not with him, so you deflect the conversation. “What can your men do, where can I put them?” You scan the four men standing a bit shyly behind their former captain.

“Jongin was in charge of medical. He’s good with medicine and rigging. Chanyeol was our best man in the artillery and also worked the kitchen with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was our head cook, but is also well-trained with artillery and general sailing strategies. Sehun has good direction and ability to decipher maps,” Baekhyun rattles off.

That’s good. You needed these skills. From what you could tell, you lost your cook and doctor, Kun, two gunners, Jaehyun and Amber, and… Taemin. Each loss hurts a bit more when you think too long about their absence. You try your hardest not to let it show on your face. It feels sick to replace them with people that are responsible for their deaths.

“Kyungsoo, you can head to the kitchen. It’s under your control, we lost our cook when-” you suck in a breath to stop yourself. Chanyeol and Jongin wince. “The kitchen is all yours.” You finish lamely. “Jongin you’re in charge of our infirmary. Our cook was also our head doctor,” you say bitterly. He avoids your eyes and draws into himself. “I’ll tell Minseok to get Chanyeol and Kyungsoo acquainted with our artillery. You and Sehun meet me in my quarters in 10 minutes. We need to figure out our heading.” You turn on them before any questions can be asked and walk a bit dizzily to the forecastle and very front of your ship for a second to yourself.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to mourn the men you lost, and being hit so suddenly with their absence as you quickly filled positions they each held for years is painful enough to force tears from your eyes. You try not to cry in front of your crew for the sake of morale, but it’s tough to skip over the mourning process in order to get back to work. Everyone else at least had a month to properly mourn.

You get a few hours at most.

You wipe away the tears and try to gather your breathing before you have to face everyone in your quarters. You don’t want it to be too obvious that you were crying.

“Hey…” you sniff and rub at your face with the palms of your hands harshly. Yixing walks to your side and leans against the railing with you. He looks out at the expanse of water and gives you a few seconds of grateful silence before he speaks again. “You don't have to hide your crying like this. We all really miss them, you don’t have to pretend that you aren’t hurt.” He pauses. “You could at least choose a better location, you’re completely visible up here,” he jokes. You laugh a bit.

The wind blows and the ship’s sails flap.

“I’m just…it feels wrong to fill their spots like this. It was Baekhyun and his crew’s fault that they died. It’s his fault and now they’re just taking up their space as if nothing is wrong,” you wipe away another stray tear angrily. You understand that taking them on was the smartest decision given the circumstances, but it doesn’t lessen the feeling of betrayal.

Yixing hums. “You know…I don’t want you to think that I’m taking their side because I’m not. But…I don’t think they meant to kill any of our men in the attack.” You look at him in horror. How could he defend them when you all lost men because of them? He sets his lips in a line. “Their cannons were aimed at the mainmast to keep us immobile, and that’s where they hit. When it fell, it nearly hit Junmyeon but Taemin pushed him out of the way and it crushed his legs instead. He held on for a bit, but got sick on top of his injuries as we headed to Arae. He died in the infirmary. Kun got sick while he was trying to take care of Taemin. Pneumonia. We had to quarantine them both for days before they passed away. One of our cannons backfired when we tried to attack Baekhyun’s ship in return, and it took out Amber and Jaehyun. You and I both know how often that can happen in the artillery,” he explains.

You process his words and you know that, logically, all of these things were accidents, a series of unfortunate events and not malicious attempts at murder, but the irrational side of you wants to blame someone. To blame Baekhyun.

“I’m not telling you not to be angry, or upset,” Yixing continues. “I just want you to look at this objectively and realize that it isn’t completely their faults that we lost our men. Fate just…wasn’t on our sides.” He gazes at you with soft eyes. You can feel angry tears welling up again. He pats your shoulder. “Take a while to cool down, to mourn. I’ll tell Junmyeon that you’ll be a minute.”

Yixing leaves with a squeeze of your shoulder and you let yourself breakdown. The tears fall heavily and your chest tightens so much that it physically hurts to breathe. You could curse the sky, the moon, the ocean, but at the end of the day, it was just their time to go.

If Yixing truly believes that it wasn’t blatant murder then you have to take a second to separate your mind from your emotions as well. You can’t storm off and make their lives hell; you told your crewmen that these new additions are a part of your crew. You all have to respect that for the time being.

You could ask anyone on your crew and you’re sure that they would tell you the same things. How they died, the circumstances. They’re truthful people. They wouldn’t recount it blinded by rage and hatred.

They will all tell you what they saw, just as they saw it.

They would say that it was all just bad timing.

Maybe that’s what upsets you most.

You take a few more minutes to wipe your face and gather your composure before you walk into the Captain’s Quarters where Yeri and Junmyeon are crouched over the map and compass speaking in hushed tones. You can see the confusion in Junmyeon’s furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Does anything look familiar?” You ask smoothly.

“Vaguely,” Junmyeon says before he looks up from the table. He quickly takes in your appearance, and opens his mouth to comment, confusion on his face switching to concern when the door opens and Baekhyun walks in with Sehun on his tail.

Yeri opens and closes the compass. “Your compass is broken,” she says.

“It’s not broken,” Baekhyun corrects. “It supposedly points to the thing you want most in the world.”

“No kidding,” Yeri exclaims in amazement.

You avoid Junmyeon’s eyes as you project composure to the rest of the people in the room. He knows you well enough to know when something is wrong, but that doesn’t mean that everyone else does. “Yeah, that’s what Baekhyun and I were told when it was given to us. Is your home the place you want most in the world?” You ask Junmyeon.

There is a deep sadness in his eyes that only slightly covers up his concern. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Well we’re kind of fucked if you don’t want to go back,” Baekhyun observes bluntly. Sehun elbows him in the arm to shut him up.

“I know…it’s been a very long time since you’ve been home, and I know there were reasons that you left. But I need you to look deep within yourself and tell me that you don’t still ache to return.” His gaze wavers under yours; he breaks eye contact first. “It’s okay,” you assure him, walking over to rub his back as he tries not to show the battle he’s been waging with himself for years.

He tries to hide it.

You know him well enough to be able to see it anyway.

“This was always the end goal, right? You never have to feel bad for wanting to go home.” You try to smile. Yeri whimpers and throws her arms around him in a hug. Baekhyun and Sehun stand awkwardly to side while you all try to contain your emotions. This isn’t goodbye.

“Maybe you’d be able to come and visit again,” Sehun offers softly.

“Yeah, you guys are acting like he’s going to die if he goes back. People leave Atlantis all the time,” Baekhyun adds.

You grab the closed compass from the table and place it in your first mate’s palm. “Just think of home,” you comment softly.

He takes in a large breath and closes his eyes. You open the compass in his hand and watch it spin wildly from side to side before finally settling. Baekhyun peaks over your shoulder.

“Huh,” he remarks in amazement.

Junmyeon opens his eyes and looks down.

“Southeast,” you say in unison. Yeri motions Sehun to her side. They begin using the heading with the map you were given to chart.

“We’re going to finish this. I promise,” you tell the man at your side.

Baekhyun pushes between you both to grab the compass from Junmyeon’s hand. “Irene said that the sea wants you and that you should listen to her song to lead you home.” He plays with the device with deft fingers.

Junmyeon tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Song? I mean…sometimes I hear noises. Something like a melody. It happens randomly, at different times of the day and sometimes not for months at a time. It’s the same tune every time.” He laughs embarrassed. “I just thought it was sea madness or something.”

“We need you to figure out where it wants you to go. You’re the only one who can hear it and follow it. The song and a rhyme, they're the main things you need to get home,” you tell him. “I don’t remember what the rhyme was…fuck I should have written it down-”

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue. Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through. She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began,” Baekhyun repeats the rhyme with ease. You look at him amazed.

Junmyeon murmurs the rhyme under his breath. “I-I think that I’ve heard that rhyme before…when I was younger. I’d forgotten all about it,” he says in shock. He falls into the chair closest to him heavily and begins to repeat it over and over to himself softly.

“Southeast,” you murmur to yourself. Junmyeon is the only one who can piece together the missing parts of his memory. The longer he’s away, the less he’s able to recall about his relationship with the ocean. Little pieces of memory, little parts of himself, all lost with time. “Yeri, can you work with Sehun and Baekhyun to figure out what we should expect to encounter?” She nods determined. Sehun gives you a decided look and you know that they will work hard together to piece together whatever they can with what little information you all have.

You and Baekhyun share a look. An understanding finally settling between you after all that’s happened, after all that’s been revealed. He nods. You offer a small smile in return.

#exo #exo stories #exo fanfics #exo fanfiction #exo imagines #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun stories #baekhyun story #baekhyun pirate au #exo pirate au

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🏵️ my youth is yours by @skarshes (6k) | Not Rated

"They shake hands and when they’re finished, Louis stands up to go shake Harry’s hand. He doesn’t understand why Harry is gawking at him until he realizes that he’s still dressed in a pair of blue lacy boyshorts. He blushes, but the response from Harry is the best, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide. Louis shakes his hand and welcomes him before leaving to go finish his last part of the photoshoot. Harry is still standing there with his mouth wide open when Louis walks out.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun, Louis thinks to himself as he gets in position for the next photo set."

Or: Louis is a model and Harry is his assistant. Cue the instant attraction, flirting, a little bit of smut, a little bit of angst, but a happy ending.

🏵️And I know he’ll be the death of me, at least we’ll both be numb by @capturethesunset (3k) | Not Rated

Louis getting wrecked by jealous Harry.

🏵️hop hop hop by orphan_account (3k) | Explicit

Suddenly, Harry’s slipping down his jeans, and Louis gasps as he’s met with a very unexpected but delicious sight. A mass of fur nestles between Harry’s cheeks, matching with the pink of the inner part of his bunny ears.

Or, the one in which Harry wears bunny ears and a bunny butt plug and Louis proceeds to fuck him.

🏵️Got A Lot You Wanna Show Off Baby by @Phillipa19 (3k) | Explicit

Louis had been in meetings all day, he should have known that Harry wouldn’t be ignored for much longer.

-OR-

Louis is Harry’s sugardaddy and his younger boyfriend is definitely not happy being ignored whilst Louis holds meetings in his home office. There may also be Harry in lacy knickers involved.

Part 2 of When I Land, You’re Mine

🏵️St. Austin’s School for Boys by @domtommo, @winsomefreak (100k) | Explicit

St. Austin’s School for Boys is a correction school for young men that uses corporal punishment as their means of discipline. After one too many infractions, Harry Styles is sent there till graduation. Upon arriving Harry meets his dorm advisor who also happens to be the first year sex-education teacher and footie coach, Louis Tomlinson. Harry falls in absolute adoration for the teacher and is all too ready to drop down onto his knees for him. During his stay he learns some very interesting things about himself… Welcome to St. Austin’s School for Boys, where the hallways are filled with love, drama, and sex.

Part 1 of St. Austin’s School for Boys

🏵️hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss by @icedwaters (27k) | Explicit

Louis would like to know when his life became a huge romantic comedy, because he’s starting to get tired of being the butt of every joke. Harry’s already at the club when he, Zayn, and Liam arrive. He’s got on the tightest jeans Louis has ever seen in his life (including his own), and this flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, the buttons mostly undone to reveal the majority of his chest and a few tattoos. Louis’ eyes are first drawn to the big butterfly inked above his abs, then to black lines drawn on his shoulders, partly hidden by the edge of his shirt. He can’t help staring, his eyes clinging to Harry’s exposed skin.

(or louis is a 22 year old photographer in his third year of uni, and harry is his 19 year old cat-loving neighbor.)

🏵️I’m Gonna Love You (Until You Hate me) by @sweaterpawstyles (8k) | Explicit

As if reading his mind, Louis glanced over his glasses at Harry, presumably because Harry didn’t reply to his statement earlier.

“I decided to get my glasses out again,” he chuckled, winking at Harry. “Do you like them?“

Harry felt his face heat up. No, he didn’t just like them. He fucking loved them and wanted to ride Louis and call him daddy while he wore them. But he didn’t want to just tell Louis this.

Louis wears glasses and Harry doesn’t like to be teased

🏵️jump in the deep end by @istajmaal (4k) | Explicit

Louis’s stomach lurches as he closes the last bit of distance, Harry’s nose settling between his arse cheeks and pushing them apart. Harry’s lips brush against the puckered skin around Louis’s hole in a kiss and Louis lets out a whine so high-pitched he barely recognizes it as coming from himself—what if I’m not clean enough, what if Harry hates it, what if Harry pushes me away—but then Harry’s long, wet tongue swoops in a circle around Louis’s rim and Louis feels like all the breath is knocked out of him. He grabs for Harry’s hand, still digging into his thigh, and squeezes over it, until Harry releases his vice grip on Louis’s thigh and laces his fingers through Louis’s.

or, Louis’s arse is a sensitive subject, so Harry approaches it gently. With his tongue.

🏵️shit, i still love you (still see you in bed) by @Wankerville (10k) | General Audiences

Harry hums, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, “I want daddy to fuck me in the gold booties he got me for my birthday.”

or, it’s valentine’s day and harry wants to be fucked in his gold boots

🏵️daddy daddy cool by @sky_reid (6k) | Explicit

harry wakes up hard.

🏵️Yes Daddy, I Will by @recklessandbrave (9k) | Explicit

Louis smirks, arms crossed while admiring the scene in front of him. He had Harry exactly where he wanted him; desperate while blindfolded and tied up, and he was loving it. He feels drunk off the sight of his boyfriend spread out for him, naked, hard, and needy.

Or the one where Harry distracts Louis while he works and gets the punishment he deserves, and so badly wants.

Part 1 of Pastel

🏵️Thank You, Daddy by @recklessandbrave (10k) | Explicit

Harry’s hot, wet mouth is around him before Louis even has the chance to blink, and it feels so good, the icy sting of the frozen dessert disappearing as Harry’s soft tongue laps it up. After Harry swallows, he pulls off the head of Louis’ cock and then dips down to trail his tongue up the shaft, collecting the bits that dribbled down. “Yummy. Thank you, daddy.” He hums pleasantly.

Or the one where Louis gets an idea, and Harry wears panties

Part 2 of Pastel

🏵️strawberry milk fic by @Wankerville (158k) | Explicit

“So here’s the thing,” he starts. “I didn’t mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn’t like it because their opinions shouldn’t matter, you know?” Louis takes a breath, finally glancing over to see the boy wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. On a whim, he adds, “And like, I noticed you scraping it off and you haven’t been wearing any and I think you should because that’s what you like.” or an au where harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and louis’ just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

🏵️The Night Sky is Changing Overhead orphan_account (124k) | Explicit

“Um, sorry, but I believe that’s actually mine,” Harry said a bit awkwardly, pointing at the cup.

The man huffed, slightly narrowing his blue eyes, “Nope, large Americano, dash of cream.” He held the coffee up closer to Harry and honestly, Harry knew exactly what was in the cup because it was his coffee.

“Right,” Harry slowly drawled out as if he was talking to a toddler, “Which would make that mine.”

“Look, I really don’t have time for this, I’m running late. And this,” he said before he took a sip from the cup, “Is mine.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he held his hands out, failing them slightly, “Wha-you can’t just drink it!”

“Well I did, so, do you still want it or can I be on my way?” The man challenged.

Harry shook his head disbelievingly, “Take it, but for the record, it says Harry on it.”

The man turned the cup around and a sharp laugh came out of his mouth, “Well, shit.” He looked at Harry, a smile stretched across his face as crinkles formed next to his eyes. “Thanks, Harry.”

🏵️driving instructor fic by @LoadedGunn (104k) | Explicit

AU where Louis is a 25-year-old driving instructor and Harry is a 17-year-old virgin who’s really awful at seduction, except for the time he gets Louis to fall for him and fuck him senseless and take him on kinky adventures.

🏵️Loving You Is Free by @littlelouishiccups (91k) | Explicit

Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn’t been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.

🏵️sex shop fic (dildornado ‘verse) by @istajmaal, @LoadedGunn (96k) | Explicit

AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

🏵️welcome to the mansion by @blankiehxrry (7k) | Explicit

Harry is a Playboy bunny.

🏵️Wild and Rain by @softandslow (45k) | Explicit

Louis has been looking after Tessa since he was sixteen. Harry’s a man in a business suit who has loved his daughter’s babysitter for three whole years.

🏵️But I’ll Still Take You Home by @LoadedGunn (9k) | Explicit

“So how old does that make you?”

It takes Harry a second. “Twenty.”

Louis arches an eyebrow. No matter how morally dubious that makes him, this boy is not twenty years old. “Bullshit.”

Harry pinches his bottom lip between two long fingers. “Eighteen.”

“What is this, a missile launch?”

Harry giggles. “Seventeen.”

Or, Harry is 17 at a college party, and Louis is not Brian Kinney.

🏵️can i stay the night by @frappeniall (3k) | Explicit

Louis pulled away and stood up, ‘This.. This is wrong. You’re 16.’

‘17 in 6 minutes,’ Harry interjected, ‘If that helps.’

[harry has a crush on his older neighbor, louis, and stays the night at his house when he gets in trouble with the police]

🏵️Can’t help but touch myself by @Tita (7k) | Explicit

“I asked what these were, love.” Harry gulps. “Panties,” he explains with heated cheeks, needing more than the light touches from Louis and getting nothing. “What did you get them for? Were they to impress someone else?” He asks, and Harry shakes his head fervently, stumbling over his words as he tries to get his tongue to cooperate. “No, no,” he emphasizes, arching his back to plaster himself to Louis. “For you, always for you, Daddy.”

🏵️Champagne by @fanshae (2k) | Explicit

“Look at how pretty you are,” Louis murmurs, Harry’s stockinged toes curling against the floor at the praise, “Give Daddy a twirl, baby.”

🏵️Give It Up To Me by @krisstylinson (8k) | Explicit

“You’re going to end up making me come with all the boys in our lounge,” he finished, his tone softening the longer he spoke.

“And?” Harry murmured, placing his palm over the crevice of Louis’ arse, keeping the plug nice and tight inside of him. “What if I wanted you to?”

Or the cliché where Louis isn’t supposed to come but he does, and that can’t go unpunished in Harry’s eyes.

🏵️I can feed your appetite by @dirrtylarry (5k) | Explicit

During a meal out with the other boys, Harry teases Louis to get what he wants.

🏵️I’m Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by @Phillipa19 (6k) | Explicit

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry��s sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

🏵️it ain’t trickin’ if ya got it by @sarcasticfluentry (10k) | Explicit

Louis raises an eyebrow and smirks. “You have to ask nicely, Harry.”

They’ve never really played like this before, and Louis is a little out of his element but he finds that they’re both falling effortlessly into their roles (and not just because Louis is good at acting).

Harry’s too overwhelmed, though, to say anything without first gasping, “I c-can’t - god, I can’t believe you - please, Daddy, please put it inside?”

… or, 28-year-old blockbuster actor Louis Tomlinson rushes home to give his 20-year-old model boyfriend Harry a good seeing-to after a particularly provocative Instagram post and, in his excitement, alerts the entire world. Featuring daddy kink, anal beads, and feelings.

🏵️let’s talk about making love by @istajmaal (25k) | Explicit

“That’s my name, baby, I’m Louis.” The voice on the phone inhales sharply, then says, “Gonna take my cock now, princess?”

Harry lets out a high-pitched mhmm and shudders as he pulls his fingers out of his hole, groping for the vibrator. “Nice to meet you,” he says, feeling a bit dizzy with how hard his untouched cock is.

Louis is just a simple phone sex line operator, but to Harry, he’s Daddy.

🏵️nominae by @pressedpeachpits (2k) | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis is Harry’s beautiful acting professor, and Harry is an awkward college freshman with a crush on said teacher. After a slip up with what name to call him, Harry finds himself in a world of embarrassment, obsession, and lots of support from his roommate Niall.

Or, the one in which Harry calls his teacher Daddy, but it isn’t as bad as he expected

🏵️smile in slow motion by @istajmaal (24k) | Explicit

“It’s 2011, Niall. People can fuck their friends’ faces without it meaning anything more than that.”

or, Louis is Harry’s dom and maybe also his soulmate.

🏵️sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me by @moonlightlouis (4k) | Not Rated

harry’s been a naughty boy and needs to be punished and louis is there to do it

🏵️To Be Loved To Be In Love by @Angel_Dust (129k) | Mature

At 18, every Sub must take a Match Test to find their Dom.

Poor, Farm kid Louis Tomlinson is matched with Rich, Businessman Harry Styles.

Or, where Harry thinks giving Money, expensive presents and luxuries proves how much you love someone, but Louis is about to turn his world upside down.

🏵️Untitled sugardaddy fic by orphan_account (2k) | Explicit

Harry comes home from a long day at work and has his way with his baby. (That’s Louis.)

The one with all the daddy kink sex and spanking. It’s pure pwp

🏵️Wake Me Up by @larrystylins (2k) | Explicit

Harry stretches and accidentally pushes his bare bum into Louis’ crotch. Oh. That’s definitely Louis’ cock. Okay that’s definitely the outline of Louis’ hard cock pressing against him. “Lou?” he whispers. Of course Louis is fast asleep..

or Harry wakes up to Louis’ morning wood pressed against his bum. Harry gets needy. Louis wakes up and punishes him.

🏵️You Don’t Need Me To Show The Way by@LoadedGunn (6k) | Explicit

But right there, on Harry’s iPod, is a folder entitled Lou Sappy Sappy Long Indie Hipster 80’s Love Songs Mixtape.

Louis expects a sappy mix tape. He might even expect his own shitty versions of Foo Fighter songs. What he doesn’t expect is clicking on “AUD-20101223” and suddenly hearing loud moaning. He gasps and scrambles to pause it, so shocked the iPod drops right to Harry’s stomach. Harry looks absolutely mortified, even more than he did when Louis played High School Musical. He’s blushing so furiously his face bypassed rosy straight to flaming red, and his mouth is closing and opening like he can’t think of a single thing to say.

Then Louis starts laughing uproariously. “Hiiii, I’m Harry from Cheshire, when I’m on the road I like listening to indie music and gay porn.”

Or, 2011 fic where Harry rides dick for the first time and Louis appreciates technology.

✨You can also check My Fic Tags for more fics! ✨

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lloftvlly · 4 years

Text

something i never really talk about but felt like ranting about right now.

hi, i’m may, i stan fictional villains, and i have a shitty autoimmune disease.

i don’t make a big deal of it because i don’t think it’s defining who i am but i won’t pretend it’s not a huge part of my life.

just a little backstory. my disease started to kick in in my teens. it started very slowly and snuck up on me. the first time i noticed something was off, was when my right knee started hurting. back then i didn’t think of it as much though, just maybe i was getting hurt at the concert i was at a a few days prior (it was good charlotte, my friend is a huge fan and dragged me to their live it wasn’t bad but lol). it started to bother me when the pain in the knee didn’t go away after i kept applying some cooling gels and whatnot and my knee kept swelling up. my cousin, who’s a doctor got me some cortisone cream too and it helped a bit but you can’t use this for long. so as soon as i quit using it the pain was back just as bad, if not worse.

i started seeing doctors and they were just confused. i got my knee punctured and liquids drained by doctor 5 times. (long-ass needle goes under your kneecap and liquid gets pulled out) this procedure hurts like shit but it always gave me a little relief for a few days. but after that it still got progressively worse. it started to also affect my left knee and my right wrist and eventually my lower back. and at this point i was taking a lot of pain meds to at least be able to have pain-free days. in the mornings i couldn’t get out of bed, i couldn’t walk. i had to always take pain meds in bed, wait until they kick in, then force myself to get out of bed and try to walk. always stiff, always having to keep my legs moving if i don’t want them to turn stiff like rocks again... my knees were too weak to keep me on my legs for long so whenever i was in situations i had to stand a lot, i would threaten them cos i would have to find something to lean on and that wasn’t always an option. shitty fucking situation.

i kept seeing doctors who were not sure what it was. idk how many times i left a doctor office and then had a mental breakdown, crying cos no one could tell me what’s wrong and i just wanted it to be taken care of. like lit felt like i was left so alone with my pain and no one did anything to help me with it. i even felt like i wasn’t taken serious enough. one doctor even made some comments that it might all just be in my brain. because i am also diagnosed with GAD and clinical depression he was like “this could be part of that.” such bullshit. sometimes doctors don’t take you serious for having mental illnesses is what i learned from that.

anyway, things were looking up a little after that.

about 7 years into living with pain i was finally getting a diagnosis. all this time it had been psoriasis arthritis, an autoimmune illness that attacks my joints. the reason why it took doctors this long is because this condition rarely ever comes without the skin condition psoriasis. i didn’t show it on my skin, and even my blood tests seemed to not show the results doctors needed to diagnose it. the only reason doctors did find out, was because i had googled my symptoms a lot and i brought up the idea to my doctor that this would be it. plus my grandpa and my aunt have the same disease and it’s something genetic. honestly without me telling the docs i think i have psa i think i wouldn’t have a diagnosis even now.

idk what changed on the day i got my diagnosis and why it suddenly showed in my blood tests also. but i was relieved to say the least, knowing what was rly going on with my body. but the thing is, i lived 7 years undiagnosed with it and now have to live with the consequences of that time: these being, i was always walking cautiously because of the pain in my knees, it ended up in me now having a crooked walk, i can’t stretch out my legs completely anymore, neither bend them completely. it’s now just something i have to live with, that i won’t prolly never walk normally again. i’ve ruined my posture thru that, and now have chronic back pains caused by it and i get lots of migraines that result from the back (idk how it works i aint a doctor)

now i am on strong medication called mtx, it’s kind of a med that many ppl are critical of, because of its strong side effects and it not being rly good to the body. i have my blood checked all 6 weeks cos i gotta make sure they don’t slowly kill me lol. but for me this med is rly saving my life like holy shit. i do physical rehab in a program whenever i can, i stayed there for weeks before and it was kind of nice. the issue with my medication, however, is that i have to pause them whenever i even have as much as a small cold. since they suppress my immune system or whatever, i can’t take them when i am sick or i won’t ever have a immune system to get me back to becoming healthy again or some sciency shit idk lol.

either way that brings me to now. i had a fever not long ago and had to pause my meds again. mtx stays in the body for like 2 weeks or so, if you pause any longer than that, your body is set back to the state it was before you started therapy on this medication and mtx takes up to ten weeks to even take effect. meaning, when i pause it, i am set back to before i started the medication and have to wait at least 6 weeks for them to kick back in and make the pain slowly go away again. now, currently i am in one of those in between times before the meds work again. i am in quite a lot of pain, i can barely get out of bed. not only do both my knees rly hurt but so does my back. and i am like /: well that sucks.

it’s hard to focus when you’re in pain. as i am right now. i try really hard to focus on anything other than that but no matter what i do, my mind’s always going back to the pains in my back and knees, my wrists feel surprisingly fine and thank fuck cos i need them to write lol. point being, my focus is gone. i wanna write, i wanna create, i wanna draw but it’s rly hard man. i feel whiny and like overly dramatic... nothing should keep me from writing, realistically. look, i mean, i just typed out this wholeass essay. i honestly think i am blocking myself. i’m like ‘woe is me.. i have some pain’ and somehow almost use this as an excuse, i guess, to be a lazy pos.

someone gotta tell me “stop being a bitch and get to work” so if you read this and if you would lol. just don’t pls, for the lov of king shiggy , don’t feel bad for me or say anything to pity me. that’s not what i want /at all/. i’m a badass for living with this pain, lemme feel like one at least lol. if you can sympathize that’s nice but i didn’t write this to make anyone feel bad for me i promise. i don’t feel bad for myself either, i honestly think i am lucky in many ways that i get to live in a country with free health care, get to work from home, get to be a lazy pos when i am in this type of situation without having to worry about anything rly.

i’m also writing this rant to kind of push myself. get out of this stupid slump DO SOMETHING.

anyway, that’s all.

also: if anyone got stories to share about their own experiences and they want me to hear it, please do. ithink we all have things we struggle with.

#personal #shut up may

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

What Consumes Us (biker!Geralt)

Chapter 6

A/N: This doesn’t even count as something I’ve written today because I wrote this like three weeks ago :( As always I want to give a huge HUGE thank you to my babes @scarlettwitcher and @justyouraveragemainblog because without either of you guys I would still be in the creating stages of this fic that I absolutely love!!!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: none I think

Romina folded her arms beneath her chest, her eyes finding the brown husky sitting in the passenger seat of the truck. Roach barked once, alerting Geralt of Romina. He lifted his head. His golden eyes followed her as she walked around the front of his truck to get to the driver’s side door. He rolled the window down, sighing quietly.

“Thought Tissaia would’ve gotten the hint that I don’t want to be followed.” Romina stood a few feet from the door, looking in at the Witcher.

“Tissaia didn’t send me.” Geralt turned his head to look ahead of his truck. “Three cars in front of me is a police car. They’re here to watch you, just as I.”

“Why?” Romina turned her head to look in the same direction as him but he stopped her.

“Don’t look at them.”

Romina shuffled closer to the truck, suddenly feeling nauseous at the thought of the cops watching her.

“Are they Suns?” She quietly asked, leaning against the door. Geralt nodded once. “And you…. You’re here because they’re here?”

“I’m here because you’re clueless to everything that goes on around you.” His words were harsh but he didn’t feel bad for saying what needed to be said. “Every time that I haven’t been with you for the last week, you’ve been attacked.”

“There…. There was only that one time when you were shot.”

“And when we met. I was told by a friend that she saw you get stuffed into a trunk.”

Romina took a soft deep breath through her nose, her eyes carefully watching him.

“How long have you been following me?” She wasn’t too sure she wanted to know the answer to that. While part of her brain was telling her that this man that she barely following her and practically stalking her sounded like something straight out of a horror movie, another part of her brain was telling her that he could be trusted. Geralt was keeping her safe. He’d proven that time and time again.

“Long enough to know that you can’t protect yourself.”

“Then teach me.”

Geralt drew his brows together.

“Teach you?”

“Yeah.” Romina nodded. “Teach me to protect myself. Maybe then you can stop following me.”

He sighed out and looked over to Roach, who was watching Romina. Her tongue was hanging out as she panted softly.

“Fine-,”

“Great! Let’s go.” Romina turned to go back to her apartment.

“Right now?”

She didn’t answer him but gave him a thumb’s up as she crossed the road.

The Witcher looked down and sighed.

“Fuck.”

***

He closed the door to Romina’s apartment behind himself. Roach busied herself with sniffing around the apartment.

“Have you ever taught someone to fight before?” Romina turned to face him.

“Yes.”

“Where did you learn?”

“Kaer Morhen.”

“I’ve heard of that place. What is it?”

“If you’re going to ask questions all night, how do you expect to learn to fight for yourself?”

Romina rolled her eyes. She rolled her head from side to side and shook out her hands.

“Where do we start?”

Geralt watched her for a few moments, studying her carefully. He tucked a few pieces of white hair behind his ear and motioned for her to approach him.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Why do I need to be so close to you?” Romina muttered as she shuffled forward a little.

“I’m hoping that if you’re as far away from an assailant as you are to me, you’ll do the smart thing and run.”

She took a few more steps towards him until the toe of her boots were just a few inches from his much larger ones.

“You know, you don’t talk much but when you do, it’s all just a bunch of sassy remarks and bullshit no one asked-,”

A high pitched yelp escaped Romina’s lips as Geralt knocked his boot against the inside of her knee, pushing her leg out from underneath her. She stumbled and would’ve hit the ground had he not grabbed her arm.

“You talk too much.” He mumbled, releasing her only once he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Are you actually going to listen to me or are you going to talk back the entire night?”

Romina crossed her arms and huffed. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought it would be.

***

Romina hit the floor of her living room with a thud, the air escaping her lungs. Geralt knelt down over her, his knee carefully resting just below her rib cage. He wasn’t applying all of his weight to that area, but he was making sure that she couldn’t easily get up.

His hand grabbed for her wrist, effectively securing one to the floor by her head. He paused, looking down at her just to make sure he wasn’t hurting her.

“You’re heavy.” She tried to shift a little but he didn’t allow it.

“You’re full of complaints. What’s your next move?”

“Like I’d tell you.” She grunted. Using her free hand, she grabbed for his hand pinning her other hand to the floor. She tugged at the sleeve of his long sleeve and even tried to hit his arm to loosen his grip on her.

She growled in frustration. Her heart thumped in her chest and breathing was difficult, not because of Geralt’s knee practically being pressed to her sternum, but because she struggled to keep up with his fast pace. He hadn’t been taking it easy on her.

“Hit my elbow with the heel of your palm.” He offered the advice in a quiet voice. Romina’s eyes flickered up to look at his arm. She looked back to him to see if he was tricking her. “Do it.”

She brought her bottom lip between her teeth. She did as he told. The heel of her palm collided with his elbow. He didn’t budge.

“You asshole.” She muttered.

“You have to hit me harder than that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t be afraid of that. Just do it.”

Romina gritted her teeth together. She hit his elbow one more time, knocking it out of place.

Sensing her annoyance and anger, Geralt let her go and moved to stand up. He held his hand out for her.

“You’re a shitty teacher.”

“You’re a shitty student.” He countered, effortlessly pulling her to her feet.

“Am not!”

“You’re a shitty student because you’re afraid to hurt me. You think the Black Sun is going to be easy if they get their hands on you like they almost did last night? Cahir may be your uncle but he’s proven before that he doesn’t care if you’re hurt by his people.”

Romina crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“You’re still a shitty teacher.” She muttered. He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. “You’re beating the shit out of me.”

“I haven’t hit you once.”

“No, but you’ve pinned me at least a dozen times!”

“Because you aren’t focusing. You’re distracted.” He moved to sit on the edge of the sofa next to Roach.

“No, I’m not.” Romina threw herself down into a chair.

“Your mind isn’t here, it’s elsewhere. You think things will come to you naturally, but in order for that to happen, you need to be disciplined.”

Romina sat up, rubbing her face with her hands. She rested her elbows on her knees and exhaled heavily.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it-,”

“I’m not apologizing for being a shitty student. I’m apologizing for being an ass today.”

“I don’t want an apology.” Geralt shook his head gently. He sat down on the edge of the sofa next to Roach.

“I was an asshole to you. I yelled at you.”

“I’ve had many do worse.” He looked over to Roach.

Romina watched him for a few moments.

“What was bothering you earlier today?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Well, if you get to know everything about my life, why can’t I know at least something about yours?” Romina stood up and moved to go to the kitchen.

He didn’t answer her.

“I didn’t know you and Yennefer dated.”

“We didn’t.” He huffed.

“She’s cute and super scary. Fits you.” She pulled two water bottles from the fridge and passed him one as she returned to her chair.

“We couldn’t be anymore ill-suited for each other.” He glanced down at the label to the water.

Romina watched him for a few moments before she dropped her sight down to her hands.

“I’m stuck in this, aren’t I?” She hesitated to look back up at him. His golden eyes met hers.

“In Aretuza?”

She nodded her head.

“I’m afraid so.”

Romina sighed gently, leaning back in her seat.

“I don’t want to be clueless. To be…. To be the one who knows nothing. It makes me feel stupid and I look like an ass.”

“Your life has been turned upside down, Romina. It’s been less than a week. You’ll learn eventually.”

“What’s Blaviken?”

Her question caught him off guard. He glanced to her out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s on your jacket.” She nodded to the leather jacket he’d thrown across the back of a chair in the kitchen.

Geralt ran a hand over his jaw and leaned back, sinking into the sofa. Roach moved to rest her head on his thigh.

“It was a bar.”

“Was? What happened to it?”

“Burned down six decades ago.”

Romina nodded her head softly. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes flickering around the room.

“What makes you the Butcher of Blaviken?”

Sensing his hesitation, she immediately started to back track.

“You don’t have to tell me. I-I know everyone has…. everyone has things they don’t care to talk about.”

Geralt debated on telling her, his hand gently brushed over Roach’s head. He didn’t have to answer any of her questions technically. He didn’t have to tell her anything. His only job was to make sure she stayed alive.

“Seventy years ago, it was attacked. Forty-eight men died. Seventeen were Witchers.”

“How many survived?”

“Just two.” He paused for a moment, his hand stilling on Roach’s head. “Myself and Barrett.”

Romina inhaled softly, her brows drawing together.

“You knew my father?” She asked quietly. Geralt nodded his head once. “You never acted like you knew him.”

The white haired man said nothing.

“What was he like?”

“What do you remember about him?” Geralt countered.

Romina looked down at her hands, messing with her nails.

“He was always…. He was always smiling.” The corners of her lips turned up just a little. “He always had such great stories to tell. I’d only see him on my birthday but we’d stay up in the living room and he’d tell me stories of everywhere he had been. I never understood why he stayed away.”

“Witchers aren’t supposed to have families. It’s against our code.” Geralt stretched one arm across the back of the sofa.

“That sounds like a very lonely lifestyle.” Romina murmured, looking up at him through her dark lashes. He met her eyes, finding himself lost in her chocolate gaze.

“It can be, but one learns to suffice with the life he’s given. Barrett loved your mother. His loyalty to her was the only thing more powerful than his loyalty to our guild.”

She fell silent for a few moments.

“So if you…. if you became the Butcher of Blaviken seventy years ago…. How old are you?”

“I stopped counting after it got into the triple digits.”

Romina furrowed her brows together gazing at the man sitting across from her, confused.

“Surprised?”

“You don’t…. You don’t look old.”

“Witchers don’t age.”

“So not only are you a part of a group that hunts monsters, but you also can’t have a family and you can’t age?”

He nodded stiffly.

“Now I understand.” She dropped her gaze back to her hands.

“Understand what?”

“Why you’re so…. brooding and always pissy. I would be too if I was forced to watch the ones I cared about age and die while I didn’t.”

Geralt said nothing. His eyes fell to the floor.

“I learned my lesson after a few decades passed. That’s why I decided to become allies with the Hellcats. Mages age slowly.”

Romina said nothing in reply. She didn’t know what to say. She looked around the room, her eyes falling on the clock in the kitchen. It was nearly midnight.

“You think Tissaia is going to be mad that I got assholey earlier? What will she do when I go back tomorrow?”

“She won’t be mad at you. She’s been teaching mages for decades. She has more patience than what most give her credit for. When mages are young, they make mistakes and learn from them. That’s how it’s always been. You’re no different.”

Romina nodded her head.

“I’m tired. I’ve had a couple pretty shitty days.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Are you staying?”

“I’ll be outside.” He stood up too and whistled once, making Roach jump off the couch.

“You don’t have to go sit out there in your truck all night.” Romina shook her head. “I don’t mind you staying in here. I know you probably won’t sleep but you can chill out around here.” She gestured to her living room and kitchen. “There’s tv if you want to keep yourself occupied.”

“I don’t watch television.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighed out. “Well, the offer is still there. Stay up here. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going to bed.”

***

The Next Morning

As Romina made her way out of her room, she slipped on her oversized denim jacket.

Geralt sat on the end of the sofa where he had been last night with his eyes closed.

Thinking he was asleep, Romina took quiet steps across the living room to get to the kitchen. She carried her combat boots in her hand. They were placed on a chair at the table before she went to start making coffee. Once the pot was set and brewing fresh coffee, she went to the table to put her boots on.

“Where are you going?”

Romina jumped, putting her hand over her heart as she looked across the room to the Witcher.

“Did I wake you?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Your eyes were closed.”

“Meditating. Where are you going?”

“Nosy much?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Seems how you don’t have a vehicle and I’m babysitting you, I sort of need to know.”

It was Romina’s turn to roll her eyes.

“I want to go to Aretuza. I need to learn how to use my magic-or whatever the hell it is that makes mirrors shake and people die when I touch them.”

Geralt watched her stand from the table, having just tied her boots on. She was dressed in a pair of black high-waisted skinny jeans and a gray tank top with a denim jacket that seemed a couple sizes too big for her. Her brunette hair was gathered in a very messy bun on the top of her head. Pieces fell out and down around her face.

She went over to the cabinet by the coffee pot and pulled out a to-go cup.

“Do you want any coffee?” She asked without looking to him.

“No.” He answered as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be out in my truck.”

***

Something shiny in the corner of her eyes caught Romina’s attention. She turned her head to look at Geralt. It was the silver medallion he wore around his neck. The sun was reflecting off of it and shining into her eyes. She saw it once before when he’d taken his leather jacket off but he was quick to tuck the metal into his shirt.

Without asking, she reached over and picked up the pendant to examine it closer. He looked down at her hand and then briefly over to her, alarmed. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as she touched the wolf pendant.

“What’s this for?” She curiously asked.

“Every Witcher has one.” He took the wolf pendant from her and tucked it into the collar of his black shirt.

“Why?”

“It’s from their time at Kaer Morhen.”

“What is that place? I’ve heard you mention it before.”

“You ask too many questions.”

“Cause I don’t know a lot about this.” Romina turned her head to look out of the passenger window. “It’s like I was in some coma dream and woke up in a new time. All of this shit is new to me.”

Geralt said nothing for a while so she figured he wasn’t going to answer her. She tried to occupy herself, counting cars they passed and searching the sky for any clouds.

“It’s where I did my training.”

Romina looked back to him, staying quiet for a few moments.

“Training? Like military training?”

“Witcher training.”

“You guys had somewhere you went to train other Witchers?” She furrowed her brows together. “I didn’t think…. I thought you guys were just…. just a gang or something.”

“That’s what everyone small-minded thinks.”

“I’m trying to learn more.” She told him, dropping her gaze to her hands. “It’s just hard because everyone gives me short answers or none at all.”

Geralt let out a heavy breath through his nose, shifting a little in his seat.

“Witchers were created to stop monsters. Centuries ago, they lurked everywhere and wreaked havoc. Since Witchers came to be, the monsters have dwindled. But since there are no more Witchers being created and our numbers are declining every day, the number of monsters is slowly increasing. Outside the walls of Cintra is more dangerous now than it has been in decades.”

“Being created?” She repeated quietly. “What does that mean?”

“You don’t know a damn thing about anything, do you?” He was growing irritated with her questions, with how invasive she was being. He knew she meant no harm and she was only curious, but he wasn’t willing to talk about his history. “Your own father was a Witcher.”

Romina fell silent. She could sense his agitation. His hostility was sharp and bitter.

Geralt looked to her, wanting to see why she stopped talking. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead. She messed with her fingers in her lap.

***

As soon as Geralt had put the truck into park behind Aretuza, Romina was unbuckling and getting out of the truck. The Witcher felt a little guilty for what he said. He knew she didn’t have a relationship with her father.

“Romina.”

“What?” She stopped herself from closing the door and looked at him.

“I…. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” She shook her head, closing the door roughly.

***

Romina knocked on the opened door to Tissaia’s office. The Rectress lifted her head and put the pen she was holding down.

“I want you to teach me how to be a mage.”

She didn’t speak immediately and instead held Romina’s gaze.

“Come back this evening at 5.”

“I’m here now.”

“I’m not teaching a mage, let alone a Source as unstable and stunted as you, while my bar is filled with civilians.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do for the next six hours?” Romina three her hands in the air.

“That’s for you to figure out yourself, mouse.”

Romina growled in frustration and left the office. She made her way back down the hallway towards the bar.

“Leaving so soon, Romie?” Vilgefortz teased.

“Fuck off.” Romina grunted. Geralt, who’d been sitting at the bar starting a conversation with the mage, sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

“Good luck with that one.” Vilgefortz nodded to Romina as she left through the front doors.

“I’ll need more than luck.”

***

Romina stopped just outside of the bar, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She didn’t need to be so upset with Tissaia. She understood why the Rectress wanted to wait, she was just frustrated.

“Hi, Romina.”

She turned her head to see Jaskier approaching her. She stiffened up, crossing her arms.

“Jaskier.”

“Can we, erm, can we just have a little chat?” He motioned to the bar.

“There’s not much for us to talk about.”

“There is, actually. Just give me a chance to explain myself, please.” Jaskier begged, stepping towards her. “Please, Romina.”

She gazed at him, locking her jaw tightly. She felt betrayed by him, by the only person she deemed a true, honest friend in Cintra.

“You lied to me, Jaskier. There’s not much else to explain.”

“I did what I had to do-,” He stopped himself as a group of people passed them. He didn’t want outsiders to hear their conversation. “Romina, please.”

She sighed heavily, annoyed, and moved to go back into Aretuza. She had nothing better to do for the rest of the day, so why not listen to the man’s excuse.

The two settled in a booth in one of the front corners of the bar.

“I didn’t lie to you about anything except that I work for Tissaia.”

“Our whole friendship is based on a lie, Jaskier.”

“No, it’s not, love.” He shook his head firmly. “I consider you a great friend. You were like-like a breath of fresh air in this hell hole.” He glanced around the room.

“Are you a mage too?” Romina placed her hands in her lap.

“Gods no.” He chuckled. “I just sort of run around doing this and that.”

“Do you even go to college?”

“Yes, I do.” He smiled a little. “I am a theater major. And sometimes, I sing here at the bar. People love me.”

Romina’s brown eyes lingered on him for a few moments before she looked out of the window.

“I don’t know who I can and can’t trust anymore.”

“I know this is all difficult for you, love.” Jaskier moved to sit in the booth next to her. “But just know that I’m here for you.“

His words were only a little comforting to her.

***

Romina stepped into the bar with Jaskier right beside her. They’d spent the whole day wandering around the city nearby Aretuza, wanting to stay busy until the bar closed for a couple hours before the evening crowd.

Vilgefortz and Triss sat at a table in the center of the bar. Geralt and Yennefer were at the bar. Sabrina and Tissaia were just entering the bar from the back hallway.

Romina met Tissaia’s gaze. The Rectress tilted her chin up just a little.

“Have a seat, mouse.”

Romina wished that the woman would call her by her name. It irritated her to be called a mouse, but she was sure Tissaia knew this.

Jaskier moved to sit beside Yennefer and Geralt.

Romina went to sit at the table in front of Tissaia. The Rectress waved her hand over the table. A bundle of yellow daisies formed on the wooden top.

“Turn these flowers into a bird.” Tissaia ordered. Romina furrowed her eyebrows together.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Concentrate. Focus your energy into what you want to happen.” Tissaia simply looked at the flowers and they turned into a yellow canary right in front of Romina’s eyes. With a simple snap of her fingers, the bird exploded and flower petals seemed to emerge from the creature.

Romina was captivated by what the Rectress had just done, though her stomach did hurt.

“Your turn.” Tissaia made the flowers reappear on the table.

Romina took a slow deep breath and looked down at the daisies. She pushed all of her concentration to the front of her mind, chanting in her head what she wanted to happen. Turn the flowers into a bird. Turn the flowers into a bird. Turn the flowers into a bird.

The flowers seemed to tremble slightly before they formed into a little yellow canary. Excited and proud of herself, Romina laughed. But then she felt an aching pain in her left hand. It felt as though someone was scraping the bones in her hand. She looked down to see her skin turning gray.

An audible gasp escaped her lips and she brought her other hand up to touch the mutated skin of her hand. It was cold and hard. She was turning to stone. While her mind told her to panic, to scream and even cry, she couldn’t find her voice. Her heart hammered in her chest and breathing was difficult, but she maintained her composure. Without even thinking, she placed her right hand over her left one. Her lips moved but she wasn’t sure what she said. Her left hand began to turn back to its normal color and the pain went away.

Tissaia had watched Romina’s reaction and saw the way she muttered something under her breath. She wasn’t able to catch what the young woman said.

Romina moved her fingers, flexing them and turning her hand over to inspect it. When she was sure everything was back to normal, she looked up to Tissaia.

“Does that always happen?” Her voice was quiet.

“Not if you know how to balance your chaos. What did you say to reverse what was happening?”

“I-I don’t know.” Romina admitted, racking her brain for an answer. She didn’t remember saying anything.

Tissaia looked over to Geralt, who’d been watching Romina carefully. The Witcher met the Rectress’ gaze but said nothing.

“Why did that happen?” Romina asked.

“Magic is organized chaos.” Tissaia answered. “There are two things required for magic. Balance and control. Your control is extraordinary. I’ve never seen anything like it in my years.”

“How is my control extraordinary if I killed someone without meaning to?”

“That was the Source in you emerging for a split second to protect you. Call it self-preservation. Your balance, however, is horrendous. You allow yourself to be dictated by your emotions.”

“Do not.” Romina muttered under her breath.

“Last night you stomped out of here like a child throwing a tantrum. I want you to start meditating, little mouse.”

“What’s that supposed to do?”

“It will help you focus on self-control.”

“But you just said my control was great.”

“The control you have over you Chaos is outstanding, but your control over your temper and your actions isn’t the greatest. A mage must be calm and collected at all times. However you aren’t any ordinary mage. You are a Source. You must be the best of any mage on the Continent.”

“If you play your cards correctly, you could easily move up in ranks.” Vilgefortz told her.

“What does that mean?”

“Instead of being a bartender here, you could be something more.” Yennefer butted in.

“Calanthe could take an interest in you. She’s expressed concern over your training already.” Tissaia said. “Now, let’s work on your telepathy.”

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petersmoan · 5 years

Note

teen tony and peter are fucking in the bedroom while aunt may is sleeping in her own room

YES I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH 😭😍💕

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“One last round?” Tony asked, glancing at Peter, who was chewing last pieces of chips.

“I’m tired, man. And we didn’t even finish the assignment”, indeed, a pile of text books and encyclopedias had been put away before they decided to play video games. “Just thirty minutes, then we’re back to work” was a total bullshit, because they spent around four hours in total on beating each other’s asses in Crash Team Racing, Peter’s favorite Crash Bandicoot edition. They’d leave only to use the bathroom, give aunt May a polite smile and reassure her that they were working very hard.

Tony’s parents were strict about school, but didn’t really care about their son’s whereabouts after that. That’s why he always loved spending time at Peter’s – the cutest boy in the entire city – house, with a loving aunt who actually wanted to know what was Peter up to. That’s also why he did not want to go home. And Peter could see it in his desperate eyes.

“You can stay the night, I think. May loves you since you’ve broken Flash’s nose last time he talked shit about me.”

“Is that so?” Tony chuckled, “Well then, I’m gonna give her my best smile and promise I will do that again.”

A soft smirk appeared on Peter’s face when he recalled the situation. It was very strange and great at the same time, seeing Flash being knocked down to the floor by Tony’s fist. He’d got detention that day, but as he admitted after, “It was fucking worth it”.

May agreed for the spontaneous sleepover, reminding the boys to be quiet, because she had to wake up early the next morning. And not to stay up too long, since they had school starting at 9 AM.

Peter shut the door and looked at his friend, sitting on the floor, writing something on the paper they had their unfinished assignment.

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing this garbage. Rogers will have to bear with this.”

“Let me at least read it, Tony!” Peter sat next to him on his heels and reached for the notebook. “That’s very important to me, do you remember? I need to pass this.”

“You will, Pete. Just let me handle the ending. Trust me.”

Tony’s eyes were vibrant with self-confidence and something else Peter couldn’t quite figure out yet. Something strong, because Tony was an emotional man, never ashamed of his feelings. But he had his secrets.

When Tony was writing the conclusion on their work, Peter went to take a shower, to refresh his mind and body. He’d been up on his feet since 6 AM that day and had around three cups of coffee. Tony on the other hand had so much energy that he attended gym five times a week, always making Peter envious.

May was long asleep when the boys showered and had their assignment rewritten on the computer and sent to their teacher.

“I’m exhausted. This school is killing me.” Peter complained with a heavy sigh, when settling himself on his bed, next to Tony.

“Have you tried talking to your aunt? Think she’d understand.”

“Nah. I mean, she’s great. I just… I don’t know, Tony, I feel like I’m overstressed. And nothing can really help me, unless the school is suddenly closed forever or something.”

“There’s lots of ways to relax. You should search for what suits you best.”

Never stopping the eye contact, Tony watched Peter as he nodded at first, then looked back, the silence making him feel awkward. They stared at each other for a while, both wondering if the other one felt the same.

“That’s pretty obvious, but… I like you, Peter. A lot.” Tony spoke, his eyes focused on Peter’s, to make clear that he was being honest.

“That’s not… obvious”, Peter smiled shyly, his cheeks turning red in a second, “I-I’m… glad to hear that…” His hands were shaking slightly, so he pressed them to the pillow he’d been hugging, refusing to reveal his nervousness. He wanted to be brave, but couldn’t find the courage to respond to Tony’s confession.

“I think it’s your turn now”, Stark gave him a bright grin, reassuring one. “Do you like me, Peter?”

“Y-Yes!” Peter exclaimed, instantly lowering his voice, “I do like you… so much…”

Peter tightened his grip on the old Star Wars pillow, but his arms went weak when Tony gently took it away from him and held his cheek.

“I have a few ideas to relieve your stress, Pete. You just have to ask me.”

Shivers went down Peter’s spine when Tony whispered these words straight to his ear.

“Ask you… to do what?”

“Anything. Anything you want me to do to you, I’ll do that with pleasure.”

Peter swallowed, never having felt this intimidated by Tony Stark before. He fantasized about their sexual life for years, even when it was just a silly crush in middle school and Peter didn’t really know how sex worked, and imagined them kissing in bed naked, touching each other’s genitals.

“I… I think I want… I really want to kiss you right now” He admitted with a soft giggle.

And Tony kissed him passionately, caressing his cheek and ear and neck.

Peter didn’t pay attention to when exactly they turned off the big light in his room, leaving the small lamp on the night cabinet only, and when they got rid of their sleeping clothes. His cock was pink, starving to be touched. Tony rubbed his own erection against his, squeezing his soft, bubble but.

“I wanted to taste you for so long, Petey-boy”, Tony whispered. “I’m gonna stretch you out now, if you let me.”

When Peter managed to let out a shaky approval, Tony reached for his cabinet, saying that he saw Peter’s pretty sex toy and lube hidden in there, a few months ago. He’d been jerking off to the thought of Peter fucking himself with it ever since.

Tony marked Peter’s thick thighs with a few hickeys, some of them closer to his groin, some of them closer to his knee. Truth be told, Tony loved these long, slim legs of his, especially in tight gym pants. Now he had them spread right in front of him, Peter’s well trained body flexible enough to expose his hole. The view was marvelous, Tony couldn’t wait any longer. He put his hands on both sides of Peter to support himself and touched the boy’s hole with the tip of his throbbing dick. Peter helped him get inside, both of them making soft sounds of pleasure.

“Quiet, sweet Pete. You don’t want your aunt to hear you’re taking dick right now, do you?”

Peter shook his head, panting, as light pain was filling his hole, just to be replaced by pleasure in a short amount of time. He grabbed Tony’s arms and held onto them when the other one was slowly moving, in and out, Peter’s position perfect for Tony’s dick to brush against his prostate with every thrust. Peter wanted to be loud so bad, he needed to express how much he loved what Tony did to him, how he looked, everything about him. He needed to praise every thrust, but he couldn’t, because aunt May was in her bed, sleeping right behind the wall, clueless about what was happening.

The bed underneath them started creaking when Tony’s pounding got faster and rougher. Peter had to cover his mouth with his hand, and because Tony was fucking him into the mattress, he was clenching his teeth on the soft skin, biting through it at some point.

“Poor baby boy, fucked so good and can’t even scream my name.” Tony leaned in and kissed him.

Peter’s tiny moans and hums were the sweetest thing Tony had ever heard.

Trying not to raise his voice accidentally, Peter stopped hurting his hand and said, “I’m coming, T-Tony…”

Tony knew it was his boy’s first time and he wanted to make his orgasm the best, so that Peter would never forget it. His final pounds were slow, but deep and stronger than before, abusing Peter’s prostate. With one hand, Tony stroked his dick very carefully, stimulating the sensitive spot between the head and the shaft. Peter wanted to scream when the climax hit him, but could only pant breathlessly as cum was appearing on his belly and chest. He didn’t wait long for Tony to fill him, listening to his cute little moans making it worth the overstimulation.

Tony rested on his back next to Peter, holding him close and caressing his face. They were still panting when they heard aunt May’s bedroom door opening, and her footsteps on the corridor. She was heading to the bathroom, they figured, but for a moment their hearts stopped. Peter looked at Tony and vice versa, and when May came back to her room, they chuckled warmly. It wouldn’t be so funny if she suddenly entered Peter’s bedroom and saw her nephew and his friend naked, one’s body covered in cum, though.

“That was amazing, Tony. Thank you.” Peter took his hand and kissed the back of it.

“I should thank you. You’re so beautiful when you’re filled by my dick, you know?” It made them both snort, and Peter rolled his eyes, too proud to admit that it flattered him.

“So��, Peter settled himself more comfortable on Tony’s chest, “What are we now, exactly?”

Tony thought about it for a few seconds, looked at him and asked, “What do you want to be, Peter?”

As cum was spilling slowly from between his butt cheeks, marking the sheets they were lying on, Peter answered genuinely with a smile, “Yours.”

#my works #request #starker #starker au #teen tony stark #peter parker #high school au #robert downey jr #tom holland

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