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seacee16 · 8 months

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when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

warnings: none

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!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

ch. 14 ~ when at seventy percent

The trip back to Seoul was quiet and uneventful. The boys gave Sakura her space, most likely due to the request of a hovering Bang Chan. She could feel him watching her every move; from the time they left their place in Jeju, right until they stepped out into the dull Seoul air. Minimal words were uttered as the girl parted from her group, happy to find that Lilli was already waiting for her.

Pulling Sakura in for a loose hug, she whispered, “You okay?”

“No,” she responded honestly, “but it’ll be easier next time.”

A content smile spread onto her friend’s face, hearing the peace in her voice as she spoke. Lilli knew the dread that filled the girl’s chest every time the trip had been brought up in the past. She could never bring herself to go through with it. But looking at her know, seeing the tiniest hint of light shining through the fractures in Sakura’s heart, she knew that her friend would be okay with time.

Four days passed.

Sakura had cancelled her classes for that week, dedicating all of her time to building up the energy she lacked. She was tired. Exhausted mentally. Only reaching 50 percent capacity. She hadn’t been out to the river since they returned. Neither had Chan. Instead, the boy made note to shoot her a quick message once or twice a day, just to check in. On the third day, the group had a busy schedule and he was unable to update her the way he usually would. Sakura didn’t want to be bothered by his absence – she could barely bring herself to respond to his daily fill-in’s – but she was. That is, until her phone rang on the third night, Chan’s bright smile lighting up her dark room.

“You don’t have to say anything,” was the first words she heard. Gods, she had missed the sound of his voice. Sakura could practically see his dimples, deep as ocean trenches on either side of his toothy grin.

He was true to his word. Throughout the phone call, she didn’t have to say a single syllable. All she did was listen as the boy told her about his day, going into great detail where needed. That was how she fell asleep. To the sound of his words and giggles filling the hollow in her chest.

On the sixth day, she got another call from Chan. This time, much earlier in the day. This time, she answered.

“Christopher Bang,” she stated.

Chan would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised to hear her voice. It would be an even greater lie for him to say that his heart didn’t swell infinitely at the gentle sound.

“There’s my girl,” he replied, oblivious to the way his words made Sakura’s face flare in a deep blush. “How are you feeling? What percentage are we at today, petal?”

She hummed, thinking. “70? Somewhere around there.”

“So, hypothetically, would 70 percent mean that you could come out with the kids and I for a few hours?” The hopeful tone to his voice made her frown. She had missed all of them. Her roommates were the only people she had seen since returning from Jeju, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be around the energetic bunch just yet.

Her silence must have answered for her because she heard Chan say, “You can say no, petal. There’s not rush. If you’re not ready to be around them, then we will respect that. Okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying.

Chan scoffed on his end. “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear you apologize for something that silly and just move on to my backup proposition.”

“And that is?” The device vibrated against her ear. At Chan’s request, she checked what he had sent her. “A ticket?”

“It’s for an interactive light art exhibit. The one you spoke to Hyunjin about? I know you’re probably bored out of your mind in the apartment, but would rather suffer in your boredom instead of interact with too many people, so I tried to find something you could do without worrying about all of that. I figured that since all the exhibit rooms are pretty dark, you wouldn’t feel as overstimulated and still be able to enjoy it.” Her phone vibrated a second time. This time, there was a link. “You can keep your earphones in and listen to this the entire time to block out the noise of everyone else there. There are mainly acoustic instrumentals there. I figured they would be best for an exhibit like that. This way you can enjoy the art without worrying about the people around you.”

The thoughtfulness pulled tears from her eyes. He had gone through all that effort just for her, and every gentle word from her phone made her heart flutter.

“Nemo-“

“Again, you don’t have to go if you’re not up for it. It was just an idea-“

“Chan,” she called, firmer this time. The male paused on his end, waiting for her to continue. “Thank you. I’d love to go.”

The army of butterflies might have broken free from her stomach if she had been in the dorm to witness the lovesick grin on the singer’s face when she accepted his idea. He would surely have to thank Hyunjin for the recommendation. Chan reassured her that thanks were not needed, telling her to enjoy it and to tell him all about it the next time they spoke.

Having to leave for his schedule, Chan bid her farewell and hung up, leaving Sakura to contain the pinch in her cheeks from all the smiling.

Sakura was thankful to find that the exhibit was one quick train ride from her apartment. Her headphones had been tucked tightly over her ears from the moment she stepped outside, drowning out the noise of the Seoul hustle with a swell of strings. Already having her ticket saved her from having to waiting in the line growing outside. From there it was quick, and she was in the first room before she knew it.

Chan had been right. It was dark. But every wall in the room was illuminated by projected images of water raining down. She believed that, had the room been vacant and her music stopped, the sound of fresh rain falling onto dry pavement would surround her. Sakura’s fingertips touched the nearest wall. The shower of light fell to her fingers, causing a sheltered area beneath her hand where no rain fell. As she removed her hand, she watched in awe as the rain filled the gap, falling all the way to the floor once more. A smile tugged at her lips.

Her music paused automatically as her phone vibrated in her pocket.

“Is it as wet as it looks?” The voice asked from the other end, his words followed by a chuckle as her head swung around to find him in the darkness. “Stop looking for me petal.”

“You’re really here,” she whispered to herself, forgetting that the microphone in her headphones would still pick it up. Another chuckle.

“Sorry. I needed to see you. Make sure you were okay.”

He could see her from the other side of the room. Chan didn’t know how something so casual could get his heart racing. Her boxy jeans hung low on her hips, showing the smallest hint of skin below the fold in the faded black tee she had tucked up. From the way it swallowed her frame, the dark hoodie over her shoulders looked like it could be from his own closet. It was a look made for blending into the background, and yet, the man’s gaze was drawn to her like a magnet.

“So, come and ask me. Surely you’re just a few steps away,” she said, eyes wandering as she spoke.

“Sorry, petal, but not today.” Sakura felt her heart sink. “You said earlier that you didn’t want to be around anyone just yet, that you needed a bit more time, and I respect that. So, I thought I’d at least keep you company from afar. Is that okay?”

For the second time that day, Sakura felt her eyes dampen at the man’s words. All she could do was nod, not trusting herself to speak without choking up.

“Don’t hang up, okay?”

She didn’t. The pair drifted between the different exhibition rooms, Chan a few feet behind her the entire time. There was no need to look for him. His presence hung over her like ocean mist, clinging to her like a hug. Something about knowing that he was there eased the tension in her chest, making everyone else invisible. He asked her questions and she answered, and sometimes the opposite would happen.

They entered a new room. The darkness was illuminated by falling flowers. Cherry blossoms. Stray branches spread across the walls, each one littered with hundreds of flowers and thousand of falling petals. The fans blew like an evening breeze. A sweet smell filled the air. It was spring encapsulated in a single room.

“How did your parents choose your name?” Chan asked through her headphones, watching his flower reach out to touch the cascading petals.

“Sakuras signify the coming of a new spring,” she told him, her eyes focused on the floating whisps of pink and white. “It signifies new hope and newer beginnings.” She fell silent for a moment, watching the flowers fall before her. “But it also symbolises how short life is. Despite the long lifespan of the trees themselves, the flowers only bloom for around one week every year. Just a day in a lifetime. A single breath in a day. One week in an entire year, and the colour is at its peak for only three days of that week. My parents met on one of those three days in that one week many years ago.”

Chan saw the way her mouth pulled into a pained frown as she mentioned her parents. It took all of his will to not approach her, keeping his distance as he had promised. He saw her fingers trace along the length of a branch, swirling around each flower.

“I always tried to focus on the positive meaning of my name, but when otōsan got sick, I was forced to see the other side of the sword. Life was too short. Despite the long life I may live, I would only have my father at me side for a single breath. He was the Sakura, not me. In the end, he would fade and fall away, and I would be left behind, clutching at the space he had once filled.” The lone tear on her cheek sparkled under the projected light as she rushed to wipe it. Her heart hurt, but Sakura found it easier to speak about him this time. So, she continued, “They named me to be hopeful every day, no matter what the universe threw my way. To look at each breath as a new beginning. A new spring, even in the heart of winter.”

He followed silently as she moved from the cherry blossom trees, like a single petal’s journey on the wind. The next room was filled with crashing waves and the scent of salt. Two minds drifted to one night on a beach not too long ago.

“Can we just sit here for a while?”

“Of course.”

They sat in the darkness, on opposite sides of the same room, but their focus on the same memory. Even from a distance, Chan could see the way her breathing became steady and her shoulders dropped loosely.

“You okay?”

Slowly, like the ending of an eclipse, a smile formed on her face and she nodded.

There she is.

“Thank you, Chan.”

“Anything for you, Sakura.”

They made their way through the final two rooms with ease and minimal words. But it was okay. Sakura exited the building with a lighter heart than what she had entered with. Realizing the call with still going, she swivelled to find him standing a few paces away, already staring at her. He wore all black, a mask covering the lower half of his face. But it was him. She knew it was.

Neither of them made a move towards the other.

“Let me know when you get home safe, okay?” Chan told her, sending one more heart-warming smile before turning to leave.

“Wait.” He stopped, looking back at her over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight?” She whispered hopefully.

The mask hid his smile, but Sakura could see the way his eyes lit up even at that distance. His brown eyes crinkled at the corners and she just knew that his dimples were deep beneath his cover. Tucking his hands in his pockets, Chan nodded and said, “I’ll see you tonight, petal.”

<3 <3 <3

He was already there when Sakura reached the river that night. Her footsteps were silent, but he turned in time to see her step into view – as if sensing her there. His mask was discarded, showing off the twin dips in his cheeks that she adored so much.

With innocent eyes and a shy smile playing at his lips, Chan opened his arms. An invitation. A question. A silent request for permission to finally hold her. One that she accepted happily. The girl walked straight into his open arms, sinking into the warmth of his body automatically. She nuzzled into him, her arms wrapping around his torso as her face buried deeper into his thick hoodie. The smell of his cologne filled her lungs. His arms encircled her. It felt like that rainy night in her apartment. Like slow-dancing on a rooftop. Like returning to your own bed after being away for weeks. It felt like coming home.

He leaned down until his lips brushed against the shell of Sakura’s ear. “Hi, petal,” Chan whispered before pressing a kiss to her cheek. His lips stayed there for a long time, covering the spot in gentle kisses as she hummed out a quiet hello.

“Percentage?”

Sakura tipped her head upwards, seeing him look down at her with loving eyes. Her word were dripping with sincerity as she said, “100.”

He smiled, and so did she.

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tarisilmarwen · 3 years

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RobStar Week 2021, Day 6 - Formal Night

(Have a RobStar/BBRae double date for this prompt as a two for one special!)

---

"Do we have to go to this?" Beast Boy whined, fidgeting a little as Raven straightened his bow tie. "Can't we just like, video conference in or something?"

"Metropolitan Society of the Arts hasn't quite nailed down simulcast technology yet," Robin said in explanation, helping the changeling into his dinner jacket. "We could watch the livestream, but it'd be really laggy, and we'd lose connection more often than not." He brushed Beast Boy's sleeves off when he was done. "Besides, this is culture. It's good for you."

Beast Boy gave an uncertain whine, but made no further comment, as Raven withdrew to slip her faux-fur-lined shawl around her shoulders and Starfire moved in to futz with his hair, smoothing it down into a semblance of orderly flatness.

"Do you not like the opera, Beast Boy?" she asked him, making sure his hair was to her satisfaction before stepping back and tugging up her long gloves again.

"Never really been my thing," he admitted, reaching up and feeling the slicked-down hairdo. "Always puts me to sleep."

Robin wound an arm inside Starfire's, his jacket sliding neatly against the silk of her gloves. "I wouldn't blame you," he laughed. "Opera is kind of an acquired taste."

Starfire beamed at him, her eyes sparkling. "It reminds me of the poetic ballads we would perform upon royal holidays," she commented. "I am very excited for this."

Beast Boy shrugged, grabbing up his wallet and shoving it into his back pocket before reaching to grab Raven's hand. "Well, as long as you guys enjoy it, I think I can manage."

Raven gave a wry smile as she entwined fingers in his. The contented feelings of love and happiness from their double dates were like a warmth on her senses, familiar and comforting. Starfire's eager excitement and the anxious thrill racing inside Robin at the thought of doing something with her she loved never failed to make the empath feel... more at ease, somehow.

The looks of adoration they traded with each other, the casual level of comfort they felt... She and Beast Boy were still navigating their awkward newfound feelings for each other but Raven very much hoped they could reach that level of ease with each other.

Beast Boy did like to cuddle, so that was a good start.

She squeezed his hand encouragingly, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I snuck your gameboy into my clutch," she told him. "If you can stay awake until intermission, we'll sneak off and find a quiet corner."

He looked confused and bewildered a moment, but then seemed to light upon her insinuations. "Ohhh, leave the happy couple alone for an hour, I get it," he said with a grin.

Fortunately Robin and Starfire were busy fussing over who was going to hold the tickets and didn't hear their private exchange.

*** Starfire's eyes were shimmering; she clutched hands over her heart as she listened with rapturous emotion, her Tamaranian powers almost haywire inside her with the strength of her feelings.

Beast Boy was snoring lightly in his seat, his head slumped over the top and drooling a little from his mouth, but Raven didn't seem to mind, leaned against his shoulder and quietly listening to the music with a faint smile.

Starfire could feel Robin's eyes on her instead of the performers, watching her reaction to every line, every moment, but she barely paid attention, so enraptured she was with the moving story and the beauty and technique of the singers' performances.

The main soloist was onstage now, pouring her heart out into a powerful aria about difficult love and Starfire felt herself ache for the poor fictional girl, doomed to forever be apart from the one she treasured and adored.

She clapped vigorously with the rest of the audience as the act concluded, peeking aside at Robin when he stood up, and doing the same.

"What is this called?" she asked, observing the same phenomenon from patrons down below on the floor.

"A standing ovation," he explained, saying it into her ear. "It's basically used to compliment the performer, tell them they did a really great job."

Starfire beamed and clapped harder, joining the chorus of appreciation for the soloist, who stepped forward and took a quick bow as the lights came up.

Beast Boy snorted and startled awake, shaking his head and quickly wiping the drool away with his sleeve. "What'd I miss?" he asked.

Starfire jumped into an explanation at once, her dress swishing around her ankles as she turned eagerly to Beast Boy. "The heroine and her lover both snuck away from their houses for a secret rendezvous, in which they proclaimed their eternal affection for each other. But the heroine's stern guardian found them out, and attempted to duel the lover to the death. He barely escaped with his life and now the heroine has been locked in her room and has conveyed that she feels she cannot live without him."

"Oh." Beast Boy scratched his ear. "So pretty normal stuff, then."

"It was so moving!" Starfire exclaimed, her voice almost breathless. "The lyrics of the aria were so beautifully poetic!"

Behind her, Beast Boy observed Robin, his eyes shining at Starfire like she was the beautiful piece of poetry.

He smirked a little to himself. "Yeah I'll bet. Hey Rae." He nudged Raven conspiratorially. "You remember where the bathrooms were? I uh... kinda need to use the men's room. Fast."

She caught on to his excuse, rising from her seat with him. "Well don't pee on the floor, I'll get you there," she assured him, trying to hide her grin.

She quickly enveloped them in black energy and teleported them away.

***

He'd known Starfire was a sap—known for ages, really—but it still surprised and alarmed him when the Tamaranian princess burst into tears at the conclusion of another powerful number.

"Woah, woah, hey!" he said in concern, turning in his seat towards her at once as the applause filled the auditorium, almost drowning him out. "Star, are you okay?"

She hiccuped, her breath hitching and stuttering as she tried to get her words out. "It is just—so sad!" she managed around choked sobs. "They can—never tr—truly be accepted by their families!" Big wet tears were sliding down her cheeks, running the mascara Raven had so painstakingly helped her apply earlier that evening. Starfire fumbled in her clutch purse for a tissue, her hands shaky, Robin eventually producing his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing away at her eyes, worry pinching between his brows.

She looked at him gratefully when he finished, whispering a strained, "Thank you."

He nodded silently but sent an anxious glance back towards the door that led into their private balcony box. Raven and Beast Boy had been on a long bathroom break.

Where the hell are they?, he wondered anxiously.

Turning his attention to his distraught girlfriend, Robin wrapped arms around her shoulders and waist, rubbing up and down her back, trying to soothe her back to emotional stability. She calmed as he held her, her sniffles settling down, quieting into a somber ease.

"Sorry," he said. "I should have warned you this one had a tragic ending."

"It is not that," she mumbled, hiding her face against his lapels now, vibrating the words against his chest. "It is.. very silly but... these kinds of... melodramas about love and romance," she began, raising her head slightly, looking into his face with sad green eyes. "It just brings up... old buried feelings," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Starfire took a deep breath, wringing her gloved hands. "For the longest time... I feared you did not have any desire to be with me," she admittedly quietly.

That stung like the knife the heroine had stabbed herself with in Robin's own heart, and he gripped her tighter, fiercely. "I know," he whispered in apology. "I was stupid. I kept putting up excuses for why we shouldn't be together, and I hurt you with how long I stalled, afraid of my feelings." He shook his head. "Afraid of myself, of being vulnerable."

"That is not how you feel now," Starfire said with conviction, looking at him adoringly.

He grinned. "Nope," he agreed. "I can say it now. I love you, Starfire, and I never want to be without you again."

Her smile cracked her face and she flung herself at him, capturing his lips with a kiss as the audience applause and cheers down below became deafening.

***

Raven had the audacity to look completely unbothered as Robin stalked up to her, with Starfire trailing behind, leaned up against the wall just outside the men's bathroom with her arms crossed casually. Beast Boy sat indian-style on the floor next to her strappy sandals, thoroughly engrossed in his handheld gaming device, beeping softly as he mashed buttons.

Robin set annoyed eyes on them. "And where exactly have you two been?" he demanded.

"What?" Raven replied, shrugging. "Starfire gets a little overpowering on the senses when she's emotional. I figured I'd spare myself the headache."

"Besides dudes," Beast Boy piped in, not looking up, "we figured you two could use some alone time. You guys haven't been on a real date in ages."

"Is that what you were doing?" Robin pressed, still a little irritated. He nodded his chin towards Raven's shoulder, where her dress strap was askew, down around her upper arm. "Having alone time?"

Raven coughed lightly and surreptitiously reached to fix her strap and cover it over with her shawl.

"The sentiment is appreciated," Starfire spoke up, eyes soft but strained, "but I was looking forward to spending the time with the both of you."

"Well, the night's still young," Beast Boy said, standing up, his Gameboy loose in one hand. "I'm sure we can find something to do that we'll all like."

"Oooh!" Starfire exclaimed breathlessly, turning to her date. "Robin, there are newborn giraffes at the Jump City Zoo!"

"Sounds good to me!" Beast Boy said, immediately grinning. "Rae?"

"Nice quiet evening with only a few people and lots of calm content animals? Sounds up my alley," she quipped.

Robin had trouble finding his words for a moment, having been quite distracted by the warm golden chandelier light glistening in Starfire's red hair and the adorable eagerness with which she looked at him, and stammered a bit before his brain shook itself back into order.

"Uh... that's—I mean—uh... uh yeah, sounds—sounds good to me."

She gave him a peck on the check affectionately, amused by how easily she could still flummox him, and slipped her gloved arm through his elbow, settling comfortably into his side.

"Would we not be overdressed, though, in this attire?" she asked, slight worry wrinkling her brows.

"You should keep the dress on," Robin blurted, then blushed heavily and trailed off into babbling again. "It—I mean it uh—it suits you, green always—uh it looks—it looks really great on you and—"

Beast Boy rolled his eyes. "Ugh, they're like the model couple, it's disgusting," he commented aside to Raven.

"Revolting," she agreed with a smile. After a pause she shouldered away from the wall. "C'mon," she urged.

Giggling, Starfire tugged her still-blushing boyfriend along as the two couples made their way through the glimmering tiled halls of the theater towards the exit.

---

So I’m not saying that Raven and Beast Boy totally had sloppy makeouts in the men’s bathroom but... yeah I’m totally saying that lol.

#robstar #bbrae #robstarweek #Teen Titans #robin #starfire #raven #beast boy #fanfiction #prompt fics

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partywithgyu · 3 years

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Work Of Art.

🥀 Tag: dom!Yeonjun x sub!reader x dom!Jimin.

🥀 Genre: smut

🥀 W/C: 1600+

🥀 Warning: blindfold, handcuffs ,overstimulation,orgasm denial, oral, unprotected sex, punishment, consented sex.

🥀 Summary: Flirting with another man, earns you punishment from your boyfriends.

‹•.•›

Like a work of art, you displayed yourself, in a maroon silk slip dress matching the blindfold covering your eyes. You could only bite your lips in anticipation knowing soon you would be touched by your friends. Yeonjun and Jimin, stripped to their underwear, watched you. They were aware, so they waited a while. The sight before them was gorgeous after all. All that you had on was a layer of silk, nothing underneath to cover your hardened nipple. Your thighs were on reveal, by the dress too short. It turned them on. "Do you want to be touched?," asked Jimin. Just listening to his voice made you sit up straighter and nod your head. You wanted to feel hands on your body. Then you heard Yeonjun scoff. "Beg," he said to you. Their eyes were on you, all their attention too. You opened your legs, revealing to them the uncovered lips. "Please touch me, master."

The bed sunk before you. Eyes covered, you didn't know who it could be until you heard the deep voice. "Look at you. You're so desperate," stated Yeonjun. You could feel him crawl closer to you. His hands gripped on your thighs as he sat before you. He dragged you closer to him just like that making you gasp a little. You could feel his breath on your face. "Who makes you this desperate this quick?," he asked. Your fogged mind only wanted his lips to be on yours. You felt Yeonjun's hand caress your body under the dress. "Only you both."

"Is that so?," asked Jimin. You felt another body press closer to you from behind. Jimin's hand snaked around your waist as his lips headed to your neck. You were lost in the feeling of Jimin's soft lips brushing against your skin. His hand made way to your inner thighs, making you lean on him. Slowly his fingers were making their way to your clit. You felt a lick. The feeling of a warm tongue brushing past your clitoris took you by surprise. It was Yeonjun. He knew how to make you feel good, so he did but not for long enough. "You're very greedy you know," he said to you. You felt his finger brushing over your jaw. "Very very greedy," whispered Jimin into your ears from behind you.

"You have us and you still flirt with other guys," said Jimin. His honey like voice only turned you on more. "I wasn't," you began saying only to be hushed by him. "Don't lie, princess." His voice had fallen octaves lower, surprising you. "Our princess needs to be taught a lesson," you heard Yeonjun say. It had been a while since you had gotten punishments. Maybe that's why you could not help but give the handsome man at the café a flirty wink as you two spoke. That's what led to this after all. The two men, close to your body, were two sexy men who wouldn't let go of your gaze straying to anyone else. "Stand up."

Hands tied, eyes covered, you could rely only on Yeonjun's hand to guide you. Your back touched the wall, as his mouth moved to your neck. Kissing was not for today. He was marking you with purple spots. His possession, he wasn't afraid to hide. There were bites and then licks on the neck you exposed. His hand went to your cuffed hands. "I am going to remove that. Don't touch yourself." He warned you knowing well that you didn't want to face the consequences. The consequences being ripped orgasms. It wasn't exciting to be led on and then left away. "Yes master."

Hands free, he asked you to raise them. He pulled off the loose flowy material, exposing your body completely. Jimin who had been watching from the bed spoke. "Sexy." You turned your head in his direction on hearing his sweet voice. Roughly, Yeonjun turned your face to him. "Knees now." You fell on your knees, on his command, like the loyal sub that you were. The tip of his dick brushed against your mouth. You could feel some of the warm pre cum on your lips. Wrapping your hand around his dick, you licked the tip. Your tongue swirled around it. A few licks later, you started sucking it slowly. You were picking up the pace but he was too pumped up to wait. You felt his hand grip onto your hair. "Stay still." The tip of his dick, hit the back of your throat. He was going quick, he was going deep. His moans let you know it was pleasurable to him. He was thrusting hard long enough, for tears to pool the edge of your eyes. And then, he pulled away, letting the warm fluid land on your boobs.

"Stand up." It was Jimin. He was standing before you, you could tell. Once standing, you felt his tongue slide over the fluid on your body. His mouth latched to your nipple. He sucked roughly as if he was running out of patience. You must've been desperate but so was he. His finger tapped your thigh. Placing your leg over his hip, he had access to you. His fingers rubbed your clit. "Do you want to watch me fuck you?" The direct question, caught you off guard. You nodded. So, he took off the blindfold.

Your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. They landed on Yeonjun who sat on the bed watching the scene like a show put on just for him. Looking away, you turned to the man before you. Jimin watched you with slightly raised eyebrows, his eyes holding lust. "Turn around," he said to you. You did as told, to face the wall. His hand went to your waist pulling it back, making you lean on the wall. "I want you to look at yourself. Look in the mirror, princess," he said. You turned your head to the side, to look at your reflection in the full sized mirror. You opened your legs wider. His length rubbed against your lips, slowly. Moisture had already settled there. "You are going to remember this." You could see his satisfied expression through the mirror. He was waiting for this.

Slowly his length entered the aching warmth. The walls finally pressed against something more than air. The feeling of being full only made you shut your eyes. Your burning throat let out a deep moan. "Open your eyes," you heard him say as he pushed in. Pulling out, pushing in, he made you bite your lips to suppress your moans. Closing your eyes was a struggle. You had been wanting the pleasure after all. His hips moving as they had been, he pulled onto your hair. "Watch." His breath was loud. Through the mirror, you watched him as his fluids filled you. It was warm. He didn't stop. Him hitting the spot over and over again, made you reach your own pleasure. You saw white, your weight falling over the wall.

The feeling of fingers brushed against your swollen lips, made you look in the mirror. Yeonjun was smirking at you. "Are you ready for the actual punishment?," he asked you in an intimidating tone. You turned around to face him. Maybe, he was right. You only wanted the pleasure, not the denials. So, you found yourself looking at him with a soft gaze. If not him, at least Jimin, who was standing beside him, would fall for it. "Master, I will never wink at another man. I promise." That was unexpected, it did make them feel some way. They shared a glance, making you hopeful. "Get it," said Yeonjun to Jimin. As he was told, he headed to the drawer immediately. Yeonjun turned your head to him . "You know how mad it makes me when you flirt with others?," he asked as he leaned closer. "It makes my blood boil. Are we not enough? huh?" You looked away from his deep gaze. "You are. I just didn't think about it that much," you said softly. "Then pay for it."

His hand around your waist, Yeonjun guided you on the bed. "Get on all fours," he commanded. You obeyed. His fingers went into your vagina, rubbing the walls. You were sensitive. The vibrator, kept on the lowest setting, slowly slid in, once his fingers were out. Your walls were stretched out, low vibrations making you moan. It was fun to watch how sensitive you were. Jimin who was, holding it in, started moving it in and out. Within no time, they had you asking for more. "Faster, please," you whined.

A smack was what you got, from Yeonjun. "What did I tell you about being greedy?," asked Jimin. "But." Another smack. Soft voices left your mouth, as it was moved in and out. Then, he increased the frequency. The sudden increase made you moan loudly. Your forelimbs giving up, your face pressed against the mattress. Your fingers held onto the bed sheet as your high seemed closer. He pulled it out altogether. "No," you whined, your eyes squeezing shut. Two smacks landed on your butts making you groan. "You're so spoilt, princess," stated Jimin. You didn't say anything. If you did try, you could only whine. Smack. "Answer us," said Jimin. "First orgasm," you tried to make a deal with a hazy mind. Smack. "You don't do the deal making here," said Jimin. You didn't answer. Smack. You couldn't help but groan. You bit your lips to hold back any more of those.

"Oh? So you won't talk until you get what you want?," asked Yeonjun, pumping his dick. "We'll talk after this," he said as if they were going to leave you with enough energy to hold a conversation. They didn't.

‹•.•›

To head to my masterlist click here.

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years

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Death Dance

Thank you for the prompt submission, Nonnie! I really liked this one.

Prompt: Can u write a Nessian fic involving Cassian seeing Nesta with her hair down for the first time? 🙏

A/N: This starts with an excerpt from A Court of Wings and Ruin, page 408. That scene was my inspiration for this prompt <3

acotar masterlist

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Cassian had been born for this—these fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation.

He didn’t stop moving, seemed to know where every opponent fought both ahead and behind, seemed to breathe in the flow of the battle around him. He even let his Siphons’ shield drop—to get close, to feel the impact of the arrows that he took in that ebony shield. If he slammed that shield into a soldier, his other arm was already swinging his sword at the next opponent.

I’d never seen anything like it—the skill and precision. It was like a dance.

I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, “For him, that’s what battle is. A symphony.”

Her eyes did not stray from Cassian’s death-dance.

------

“STOP!” Cassian bellowed.

At his instruction, the clashes of steel ceased. Two flaps of his grand wings, and he was airborne, traveling the 100 or so yards to where Nesta stood. He landed firmly on the ground in front of her, sending vibrations through the earth beneath her feet. His brow was furrowed, nostrils flared, and his shoulders were tense as he assessed her.

“Problem, Commander?” she asked him dryly.

He huffed a breath through his nose, squaring his shoulders for the verbal sparring that he knew was coming.

“Nesta, who was your target?” he demanded.

“Cassian, I don’t understand the problem. You have trained me for battle, shaped my skills into what they are. Now, you scold me for employing them?”

It was true. The General Commander had started training her all those months ago, refining her physical competencies in battle as well as her strategy. Although resistant to his help when they originally arrived in Illyria, Nesta had been a talented pupil, her skills increasing at an exponential rate. Her wit and propensity for strategy served her well, and her mental tenacity helped fuel her progress through her lessons in technique.

Today was a day of group trainings, including battle drills designed to expose the legions to various strategies and threats alike. Nesta woke with an excitement on drill days, the opportunity to practice her skills pulling her from her bed earlier than any other day. She came alive in combat scenarios, as they allowed her to employ her newly honed skills without giving her the time to ruminate too much over which strategies to utilize. Only times of crisis were strong enough to compete with the brutality of her thoughts.

Additionally, she felt a compulsion to never find herself in another situation like the war with Hybern.

“Your skills are fine, and you know it. But you aren’t alone, Nesta.” His wings twitched, exposing his irritation. His voice was all rasp and intense focus; nothing of the pure and genuine male that existed off the battlefield.

“I’m fully aware, but I was disarming them easily. I don’t see why I shouldn’t take care of it.” She tossed her long braid over her shoulder, the end of it landing on her leathers just above the small of her back with a soft slap.

“You are engaging every enemy, but they are not your intended target. You need to evade them and allow your legion to support you as you move,” he reminded her firmly. “So I ask you again, who was your target?”

“How am I supposed to make peace with leaving my comrades behind me, unsure of their fate?” she spat.

His nostrils flared, his patience fraying by the second. “You have a responsibility to ensure your specific skill set is where it needs to be when it needs to be there. You are not a hero for clearing the field ahead of them, only to exhaust yourself prematurely or get yourself killed,” he seethed. “Your death leaves them unprepared for your intended target and increases the odds that they die as well.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered his words.

“So should I have left you there, too? Bleeding out on that battlefield?” she hissed.

He recoiled as if she struck him, obviously surprised to hear her mention the moment they shared during the battle with Hybern. This was the first and only time she had done so.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “Who,” he asked through clenched teeth, “was your target?”

“You,” she said through a snarl.

“Correct. Move through this field, allow your fellow soldiers to support you. Save your energy for when you get to me.” he ordered, leaving no room for protest. He took off without waiting for her reply, the wind from his wings blowing back the loose strands of hair around her face.

He repositioned himself in the target location, his shield in place. Once he lowered it, they were to begin. Nesta fell in line with the other soldiers, steeling herself for when that red shield disappeared. She was still angry, but she felt a sense of calm wash over her as her focus shifted. Cassian waited for the opposing soldiers to move to their positions, then he dropped the shield.

Nesta ran, opting to pull a long dagger from the sheath along her thigh rather than pulling the sword from across her back. She knew she could move faster without the weight of the sword in her hand, and if she were meant to evade those she confronted, she felt her dagger would lend enough defense until another soldier arrived.

She never imagined that she would feel so at home on a battlefield, that these drills would become almost therapeutic. She moved forward, deftly knocking her first opponent off their center of gravity and causing them to stumble. She didn’t hesitate to move forward as instructed, daring to glance back quickly to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She was pleased to see her comrade engage the soldier, halting any plans they may have had to pursue Nesta.

She slipped into an eerie sort of calm, evading soldier after solder in her pursuit of Cassian. She could see him where he stood, waiting. She’d yet to best him in combat, and honestly didn’t hold that expectation in the absence of using magic, but she knew she was being assessed purely on her ability to get to where he was. She continued to move, only glancing back when absolutely necessary, and she was filled with a sense of honor that her back was covered every time.

She continued to feel a certain serenity surround her as she moved from one opponent to the next. She glided through them with grace and precision; as if she had learned this battle as choreography. After successfully blocking the blows targeted at her, she was already extending her dagger to the next, carrying herself through the field. There was a certain rhythm thrumming through her; her heartbeat akin to the cadence of a battle drum. She let it guide her and propel her forward, tugging her closer and closer to her target. She let it pace her, her footfalls coordinating in time with the fall of her daggers and her transitions between soldiers. Her movements came together in perfect harmony, an art form all their own.

She moved so briskly through her opponent's forces that her last obstacle to Cassian seemed to be caught off-guard by her arrival. She had him disarmed in less than a minute, promptly turning to lock eyes with the Illyrian warrior that awaited her.

He met her gaze with sheer focus, finally raising a scarred brow to her in challenge. She felt it like a blow straight to her chest; felt compelled to make her way to him. The steady beat of that battle drum pulled her once again, urging her feet forward toward the General Commander. She meant to break into a full run, but she felt a sharp tug on her long braid, snapping her head backward.

She risked a small glance at who held her. She didn't rotate her body being that she was unsure of how much that would compromise her ability to evade the attacker, but she turned her head to the side and dared a peripheral look their way.

The very last solider she'd disarmed had managed to grab hold of her braid, almost all the way at the bottom, near her lower back. She cursed herself for opting to wear it this way rather than her usual crown braid, but it seemed like an incredible amount of work for an activity that provided minimal appreciation for intricate braiding.

She saw her ally engaging with the enemy who was gripping her hair, so she knew it was not their failure to cover her that got her in this position. She had likely stopped too soon, not allowing enough distance to be created between them before pausing to assess Cassian. In those seconds, the soldier had regained access to his weapon and reached for her. It didn't surprise her, considering who had trained him. Even small opportunities could change the direction of a war, and he capitalized on her misstep in a way she had to respect, if she were honest.

All of these things burst through her brain within a couple of seconds before she started to scan it for a possible solution. Had she ever learned how to get someone to release her without getting hurt or killed in the process? The thought was pointless, because even if she had, it wasn't serving her at the moment.

And so, she moved.

— — —

From the second Cassian had lowered his red shield, his eyes were glued to the female meant to engage him at the end of her pursuit. She had arrived in Illyria with almost no skills and even fewer battle instincts, but when he had introduced her to training, she came alive. The idea that wars were ever fought without women like her was almost comical to him as he watch her graceful figure glide straight through enemy lines.

He couldn't, nor would be, discount her improvement or her skills in general. She had worked tirelessly for months, never wanting to find herself in a position similar to the day she was Made. She was strong, beautiful, and lethal with the blade in her hand. It was almost as if she were always intended for this.

He was relieved to see that she had taken his feedback into consideration rather than engaging every single soldier in hand-to-hand combat to spite him. It wouldn't have surprised him if she had being that she loved nothing more than to irritate him, but he felt touched at how seriously she was taking her training.

He watched her move through the crowd, entranced by her movements. He stood with his arms crossed, shield and Illyrian blade across his back, assessing Nesta and the others. Her team was supporting her beautifully, and he couldn't fight the smallest smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. She was almost to him now, disarming the man in front of her and pausing to look his way. He had just schooled his face into one of neutrality, thank the Cauldron, but his expressive brow quirked up of its own accord as he continued to monitor her.

That is, until the very last opponent she faced resorted to cheap shots, latching onto Nesta's hair. He gripped it as if she were the personification of his pride, floating away from him on the wind. He held a firm grip down at the bottom, yanking her head backward in the process. It took every ounce of his training to fight the vicious snarl that threatened to erupt out of him at seeing someone touch her in such a way. She paused, but she wasn't motionless for long.

Cassian knew his eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he watched in disbelief. As fast as lightning, Nesta turned on her heel, blade in hand. The Illyrian steel went through her thick braid like a knife through warm butter, sending the offender stumbling back.

Her golden strands unraveled as she whipped around and broke into a full run toward where Cassian stood. Her hair billowed around her face, framing it in a way that took his breath away. His breath was suddenly ragged, heart pounding through his chest as she ran toward him. When her steel blue eyes raised to meet his hazel ones, he had to take a step back and steady himself from the blow of emotions that roiled through him.

He knew it then, had suspected it for some time. That one word that changed everything, and by the way her eyes widened slightly, he suspected she knew it, too. She was almost to him; had already prepared the daggers in her hands to ensure she was ready whenever he deigned to attack.

Before entertaining a coherent thought about his actions, he raised his right hand in front of him, palm toward her. She slowed to a halt about 6 feet away from him, the look in her eyes a combination of determination, frustration, and something else altogether. He couldn't breathe.

He could see his own chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his blood singing to close the distance between them. He wanted to lie to himself and claim the call of battle as the reason for his compulsion. Battle, however, was the last thing on his mind.

The wind circled the both of them, and Cassian thanked the Mother for the soothing gesture across his wings. His blood was raging, sweat pouring along the inside of his training leathers. His wings twitched with anxious energy as he continued to look at her.

Her hair was blowing around her face, a few strands slanting across it. She was a vision, the strands looking as if they were perfectly placed to frame her delicate features. Her blue eyes bore into him, made even more stunning by the contrast of the brown whipping around them. He was both angry and relieved that he'd never seen her this way before. Had he, he would have never been able to train her properly, her hair and beauty wonderfully distracting. She was the one to break the silence.

"What now, Cassian?" she scowled. "I've made it, haven't I?"

Her voice was much quieter than before the drill, almost breathy. She was looking intensely at him, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He tracked her movements as she ran her hand through her strands, from her forehead to the crown of her head, to attempt smoothing them.

"Nesta." he managed, his voice a whisper.

She continued to look at him, that unidentifiable emotion worn all over her beautiful face.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to say what he needed to through his nerves.

"You're my mate."

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If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, please send me an ask, a message, leave a comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

[And, if I’ve left you off my list unintentionally, please don’t hesitate to remind me! No offense taken!]

Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08 // @maastrash // @superspiritfestival // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @sayosdreams // @ladywitchling // @keshavomit // @over300books

#nessian #nessian fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #twsd fics #twsd writes #prompts

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

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hey hey hey 📝

Hey you 🥰 Let me tell you straight away there's more than one because I'm a sucker for your fics and I will absolutely read all the one I haven't read yet because I just know they're good. I just know it. Same, my absolute favorite is in blue! 💙

@murdertoothpick

________

young volcanoes

Of course I love this one, Fives' fic AND Fall Out Boy?? I knew you would come up with something awesome but this... This is absolutely wonderful.

I just love the delight, the comfort in knowing that the war is over, and there will be no more fight to the death for the clones. For these men who will finally do something else than die; they will finally live.

It's not until Echo nudged him that Fives sees you approach the ramp with quick feet, colliding into him with a force so strong that he stumbles back a little, and yet, it's the most grounded he's felt in a long time.

Again, I screamed a very real scream when I read that. It's sad; but also beautiful, to be the one person that grounds him and offers him enough comfort and care and that feeling of safety-

'Don't ever let me go,' you press into him, and the way he squeezes you just a little tighter makes you melt.

It does make me melt. I am a puddle. This quote alone cured my anxiety. No but; for real; I just love these silent moments. I am very vocal about my emotions and feelings for the people I care about; but sometimes words aren't enough, or argent quite right so we turn to these silent exchanges - a look, a pression, a touch - something to let you know it's okay. I love that.

Fives meets Jesse with a proud grin, his hold on you relenting except for the one arm he keeps around your waist. 'Not tonight vod,' he breathes, meeting your eyes as you turn to face his brother, 'I'm going home.'

And Fives' words repeat softly in your head. He's going home. […]

That home is wherever the other is. It is the one thing that perseveres beyond the war. It is the one constant Fives' has ever had the choice to have, the one thing you'd never give up for anything.

This. This is it.

Being someone's home is so personal and meaningful. The trust, the care, the feeling of safety- everything that comes with the fact that you are someone's home.

And for it to be a constant in a life and a galaxy where everything keeps changing?? It's the same energy as Ari's fic It's been a long, long time.

It's comforting, and it gives me hope. This is the essence of Star Wars - hope - and you depicted it so perfectly.

I am honestly amazed and in love with this fic. (And Fives.)

at least, percentage wise

This one was a bit painful but also tender; let me explain.

'Hunter sold me as a droid today.'

He continues, 'I know he doesn't think of me like that but...it was hard enough being treated as a clone and now...I don't know what I even am.'

This. Is very painful.

I absutely love Echo, right. I adore him, he's awesome and handsome and kind and funny and he's Echo.

Yet he doesn't know that. He doesn't know who he is anymore- "what" he is.

What. That's so painfully sad. Like I said clones are already caught in this sort of identity crisis because what are they? Clones? Soldiers? Men? Brothers? Humans?

And now. Now Echo isn't even sure he fits the last category anymore. And it honestly pains me when people call him "android" or "droid man" because he already feels so self-conscious about this. And yes- he has prosthetics and robotics implants- but never should he be considered less of a human because of them. He's still Echo. He's still human.

He changed, but he's still Echo.

His next words are whispered, afraid of receiving an answer. 'Tell me you'd love me more if I weren't...' the words catch in his throat, 'this.'

And this is the moment where I tear up because.

This.

I can hear it. I can hear the pain and the fear in his voice and it honestly breaks. My heart.

How deeply rooted is his self-consciousness? How deep does the self-hatred run for him to think so little of himself??

I hate it here it just makes me so angry and sad for him.

My handsome boy deserves BETTER.

'You handsome man,' you jest, blessing him with a short kiss on the lips. 'You ready to sleep now?.'

I love this because I always call Echo "my handsome boy" or "handsome boy" and that's 1. Because he IS handsome like have you seen the man?? And 2. Because I believe if he hears it all the time he will slowly but surely believe it. He will accept that he's handsome and maybe feel less self- conscious about his body and himself...

I just need him to feel loved and beautiful because he is.

And I mean... Soft. Domestic. "You ready to sleep now?" is something you tell to someone in such a casual yet caring way and I am absolutely here for it.

This fic is just- I would react the same way reader did. It's so obvious to me he's absolutely trustworthy and nice and smart and handsome- he's filled with qualities and so many reasons to love him and care for him.

I mean- Echo. He alone is a valid argument.

Anyway, this fic just has me feeling much love for Echo and you made me fall for him again;;

push and pull

'Tsk, why won't you do what I say?'

I read that in his voice every. Single. Time. That's just- so him. 100% pure Crosshair content here.

And "the little umbrella" thing? Tech's remark on the food?

These little funny moments are so soft and a nice contrast to the sometimes sad undertone of the fic! I love that!

'I...like being close to you.'

'It's hard enough letting you in. I don't want my brothers thinking I've gone...soft.'

This. This is also very Crosshair. He's not very vocal, and to see him struggle a bit to confess what's really going on and feel awkward and embarrassed about it is just-

Great. In a sweet way. And the way you write him so well, so accurately-

Yes. 100% yes.

somewhere only we know

Alright. This fic right here is, I believe, the first one I read from you. At least it marked me enough for me to remember it as the first one.

Anna. This fic right here is. You made me cry. You had me crying while reading it because it's just.

The song alone is already- you know, very bittersweet and nostalgic in a way; and you managed to write something so perfect it's- it's not the fic matching the song. It's the song matching the fic.

I read it again to write this review - with the song on loop obviously - and I got tears again. It's just that powerful.

But your anxiety melts away as he gives you a slight smile, offering his hand to you, 'You'll have to lead the way.' […] He would always trust you, he has never felt otherwise.

I can't even explain how meaningful that it. It means so much to him, and he knows; and you do too. There's a level of trust and intimacy here.

'Just...hold me.'

Don't ask me why, but reader saying this is low-key making me emotional.

'Do you want this?', he murmurs, […].

You take an agonisingly long time to reply, your eyes flit between his, searching for any sign of hesitation, or regret. But you don't find any, as much as Crosshair is good at hiding his emotions behind an impassive and collected facade, you see the silent plea in his eyes, a longing for more.

Tears. Very real tears. The care and respect and trust and love this question alone holds. It's just. So delicate and soft, I just-

And then-

'Are you sure?' he whispers, so close to you, basking in this intimacy.

Girl if you wanted to make me cry you just had to say it, right? Like, don't mind me I'm a sucker for this; being so intimate and respectful of your partner that's like- everything.

Honestly that's what everyone deserves.

He lets out a light laugh, it's beautiful, reverberating deep in your heart, a sound so rare that you try hard to commit it—and the way he looks—to memory.

I promise you...

The candlelight surrounds your face in a halo-like glow like you were sent from heaven. It's a blessing.

...you hold my heart. This is poetry. This is art. This is comforting and lovely. And I am tearing up once again.

Your next words are meek, whispered, hidden away from the outside world, but you bare your soul to him anyways.

You almost don't hear it, but the way the words vibrate against your skin as he spills himself inside you makes it impossible for them not to be heard.

You wrote the words; but honestly I didn't even needed to read them to cry. It's just so vulnerable. They are both in a situation were they are literally and metaphorically naked, and there's nothing else but them - everything else fades away without them noticing and it's just.

Them.

And they allow themselves to be so vulnerable, finally, after all the build-up and the obstacles of the war and the downfall of the galaxy and the chip. After loosing each other and finding their way back to each other.

And finally allowing themselves to be so vulerable, so exposed to each other-

Brb gotta cry some more.

He takes one of your hands in his, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. 'Just getting you a cloth Cya'rika.'

Your mouth opens in an Oh, and you gingerly nod at him. 'Okay, sorry,' you give him the most beautiful smiles he's ever seen, and there's a part of him that has changed its mind about leaving you even for a second.

I can't even. Explain. How sweet this is. No words can express what I'm feeling as I read this. The comfort. The reassuring tone. The f**king Mando'a nickname.

Your arms open pathetically when he lets go of you, an invite for him to join you under the covers. But he looks at you in pure adoration, a sight that's so peaceful, so domestic, that he finds himself letting his mind wander, imagining that this temporary room was a home, a place where he could spend the rest of his days with you, away from war and the empire.

My heart is aching. A lot. It's so peaceful yet so tragic in a way, but they don't see that. Again, it's just them; this moment of intimacy, of domestic life where nothing else matter but what they are sharing right now.

Somewhere only we know.

alone together

This fic is awesome. I love the dynamic between reader and Crosshair, there's this very obvious alchemy between them and you manage to write about it with limited dialogue and amazing descriptions. I am absolutely in awe.

Also- Confident Reader? Love that! Especially in a Crosshair fic! And it's great because we also see a glimpse of Crosshair having self-esteem issues, so there's a sort of shift where for once Crosshair doesn't have the "upper hand" and reader isn't all shy and flustered you know (though I absolutely love these kind of fics too!)

But yeah- their dynamic was really interesting!

heartbeat

Another Crosshair fic because I love him and you really write him so well and in-character.

'I like...hearing your heartbeat.'

This little hesitation is everything. And it's so... So personal and delicate.

Someone's heartbeat. That's life pulsing through their body. That's very symbolic too; we usually link strong feelings like love and care to the heart, and to lay there with someone and enjoy listening to that life pulsing-

Yeah I'm getting soft again

'I'm not moving,' he grumbles, pressing himself further into you and sighing in relief.

This is so lovely; him holding on tighter because he doesn't want to move, because he feels good here and that's the best way he found to let you know...

I just love your takes on Soft!Crosshair, you really know what you're writing about.

hands meet

I tried to draw Hunter. With the sunglasses and the shirt and him trying to be cool.

I shall do that drawing again because it's absolutely HILARIOUS and I just adore this fic because it's so light-hearted and sweet and funny!

It's a feel-good fic, the one you read when you need to clear your head a bit; and I promise you the laugh I had reading it!

And I just love the dynamic between Hunter and reader; it's awkward yet there's a lot of alchemy and you just know they do like each other a lot and are just struggling to express it directly.

That's very sweet and I love that.

Love it.

________

So yeah! Again, it was longer than expected but I am not sorry because you deserve to know how much I love these fics and how you also hold my heart in your hands with these.

You're an amazing - incredible - writer and I love how you bring these very human and realistic elements to your stories. It just makes them even more relatable and enjoyable, even if sometimes it's painful, and that's what I love so much about your writing.

Also I absolutely love how you incorporate lyrics between in your writings

Anyway- love u Anna, love your writing, you're amazing!!

#anna 💗#you really came here for real business #making my knees weak half of the time #and my heart bleed the other half #and I will come back for more because you're just SO TALENTED AND SKILLED #I'm so happy I follow you and got into your stories like-#so happy it's so worth it #ur awesome I promise you #mesa answers #sw fic rec #fic recs #star wars fic #sw fics #star wars

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omniscientwreck · 3 years

Text

Day 5: Ashes & Artifacts // Two Librarians in Armageddon

Finally got around to day 5 of @shadowgastweek

Gonna try a text post to see if that gets more traction than the links? Idk how tumblr works anymore but please enjoy this lil reimagining of the moments surrounding Essek’s first Nat 20!

Caleb stares across the intricate circle at Essek after having watched him painstakingly scrawl beautiful arcane glyphs across the skin of Cognouza. The fact that Essek can find new ways to use their combined talents while staring horror in the face is incredible. When he’d stopped for the stone Caleb hadn’t been sure whether it was worth it. After all, they’re coming back when this is over.

However, he suddenly appreciated his friend’s foresight and his ability to prioritize. Essek held in his hands a portion of Dunamantic power, the thing he’d sold his soul for, and he’d willingly given it to Caleb. He’d offered it up seemingly without a second thought. And when it came down to it he not only condoned destroying the artifact, but had suggested it himself.

Caleb knows Essek’s hunger for knowledge, he is intimately familiar with the temptation of understanding. He’s fallen to it before, it had been used against him, his former teacher had slapped him in the face with it. His hunger to learn, grow, and be stronger had made him into a weapon to be wielded and he nearly lost himself completely to it. Now, to see that hunger put in second place, for Essek to willingly starve himself for the sake of the Nein and their survival.

He’s come much farther than Caleb had realized. He’s given gifts freely, he’s offered protection and aid in combat, he seems to be interested in knowing them. Truly learning about them and he senses no obligation there. He’s not just babysitting them for the Dynasty, he’s with them in hell to save the world because he cares for them and wants them to make it through.

As the wizards stare across the circle rendered on stone made of flesh, they both cast. Caleb feels the arcane energy pulse and gather in his shoulders and it shoots from his hands, throttling the stone between them. Essek mirrors Caleb, his magic much more powerful, white hair glowing and flying back from his face where it’s been slicked with sweat, and the look on the drow’s face is pure determination.

Time gets strange. It stretches out before Caleb and for a moment he sees hundreds of realities. It’s hard to tell them apart, there are a few where they fail, time becomes loose and rubbery before snapping back with no effect, in many timelines they seem to succeed, in more than one they’re not there at all. But as possibility and potential weave together he begins to feel better. He can see it on Essek’s face, the look of a discovery, of another experiment gone right, relief that he can help and be of use. Caleb imagines his face is similar but as the drow looks up at him he averts his eyes.

Essek looked beautiful, lit up by transmutation and dunamis, their shared power casting a glow across the striking features that Caleb’s grown accustomed to. Essek kneels before him, manipulating the very stuff that makes the universe, hands moving almost fluidly like a maestro pulling art out of air and vibrations. In the bending of time he’s struck with the though of them in a different life. A life where they hadn’t been on opposing sides, where neither of them are important or significant, just two researchers together and sharing in discovery and joy. He knows this is not a likely future or even a particularly plausible offshoot of how things turned up. It’s nice though. To imagine them as glorified librarians working towards greater understanding and knowledge. Unburdened by national allegiance and treachery, no pain that they couldn’t face and conquer together.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it but for a moment he can believe he’s earned rest. And then a strong wind coils around them, his lungs hurt for a moment and Essek explains that the effects are temporary. They begin joking, Caleb’s bones feel electric, he has energy, he has spells. He smiles, wide and proud at Essek who grins sheepishly back, a hint of flush glowing through his cheeks. It doesn’t last, he puts his guard back up and they get to work identifying.

Once the Nein have decided on the most efficient distribution of items, Beau begins to meditate and Caleb pulls Essek briefly aside, retreating pointedly out of earshot from the rest of the group, “Essek, thank you.”

He shakes his head, earrings dangling, somehow still attached, “You need not thank me, it’s the least I can do. You all are the only thing standing between our world and certain destruction. It was necessary and I would do it again.”

“Even in this moment you count yourself out? You’re standing with us, Essek. You are a part of this and we nearly certainly wouldn’t be standing here without you. I know that with the others it will take more time, and I was admittedly hesitant to bring you here. But even amidst the ashes of those who achieved what you dream of you keep me on track. This is more than just survival. It’s taking time but I have faith.”

He leaves the sentiment hanging, they’ve been through so much in the last few days alone. Essek will always be the man who betrayed his homeland as Caleb will always be the boy who slaughtered his own family. What the Nein have taught him, above all else, is that goodness comes from progression. To be good is to choose good and Essek has begun making that choice and making it consistently.

“I do not deserve that. I am here to be of use, I am here to aid you and your friends. One day we will return to Aeor and that will be for us but for now I am not here for myself. You needed me so I answered your call, my only concern is to assist and to aid.”

Caleb reaches across the inches between them, huddled and speaking in hushed tones and he grips Essek’s forearm again. “Allow yourself this victory, they’re few and far between and you deserve it. You are amazing.”

Caleb wants to convey so much with a simple touch. He wants Essek to know that from the ashes of trust he is fostering new growth, he wants Essek to know that he cares for him deeply, he wishes this could be said out loud but time is fleeting and that is complicated. As the mages lock eyes his face softens, and Essek slips for a moment. Out of his eyes comes gratitude, relief, a fondness that fills Caleb with warmth and as his face twitches into a small smile as Essek flashes his teeth. Just for a moment, and Caleb knows they have to make it, he wants to know that smile, wants to be the reason for that smile. Before he gives away too much he pulls away, but Essek’s eyes never left his and for a moment, two arcanists facing the end of the world understand.

#shadowgast week 2021 #shadowgast #essek thelyss #critfic #caleb widogast #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #the mighty nein

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rovewritesit · 4 years

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 1) John Deacon x Reader Series

I’ve read so many fan fics in the past four months and I thought it was high time to try my hand at it. I’ve created this side blog so that I can 1) Express my love for Queen and 2) Not annoy the randos from high school and college who still follow my main. This’ll be a slow burn folks, so hold on to your hats.

Series summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Lots o’ curses

Chapter Summary: This is basically just some set up for the series. No Deacy yet, but a meet-cute to happen very soon! I got the band name with the help of some random band name generator so be kind. I’m hoping to introduce in some songs readers may not have heard - I was thinking of “Heart of the Night” by Juice Newton while writing this, hence the single name and album.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

- - - - - - -

Days of Our Lives Documentary Shoot - 2010

(Brian May and Roger Taylor Joint Interview)

“The early 80s were huge for us, for sure. I believe we were at our biggest then, internationally speaking.” Brian states, glancing over to Roger.

“Yes, Another One Bites the Dust really set things a-flame I think. The traveling and playing were constant. The crowds getting bigger by the venue. Parties, hotels, girls, more parties. We were meeting just so many people.” Roger adds.

“And one of those being a certain American female rock singer.” The interviewer adds quietly from off-camera.

Roger glances over to him with a questioning look, but Brian catches on quick, like always.

“Ah yes, that particular rock goddess. We did meet her around then, I believe, yes. Maybe a few years after.” Brian says knowingly, still playing along.

Roger stares into space with a confused look on his face until the realization hits him. “Are we talking about Y/N?” Roger mutters to Brian. “Yes” Brian chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, what a spit-fire she is! Not back then though. Fred really worked some magic with that one. Almost inseparable those two were.” Roger laughs out, a wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

Brian raises his large eyebrows, “Deacy would beg to differ I think.”

Roger smirks, “Oh, well that’s a whole different story.”

- - - - - - -

1982 - MTV Studios, New York City

You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying to will your left knee to stop repeatedly bouncing up and down. The satin of your pants does nothing for the layer of sweat on your clammy hands. You fold them together in your lap and gaze around the studio instead, taking in the bustling of crew members as they ready for the pre-taped interview. The god-like VJ, Alan Hunter, sits in a chair off to the side as someone artfully pieces his blonde locks into place. He grins over at you with a small wave. You limply lift your hand in a greeting, pasting on a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You catch your pained expression as you glimpse a monitor off-camera. A friendly woman backstage had painted your face to the point of being almost unrecognizable. Gone was the evidence under your eyes of the restless sleep you’d fought the previous night. They were wide and doed, rather than their normal crescent shape. Your lips full and vibrant, your hair bounced and fanned out around your face. And your skin seemed to be glowing, masking the spots that had popped up overnight from stress. You looked every bit the rock goddess the label hoped to paint you as, and the exact opposite of the nerves currently threatening to overtake your body.

“Y/N, I can feel you vibrating from here. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine.” Rich commented from beside you. His legs were splayed out, his arms bent behind his head. Looking as relaxed as can be, as if he were on his couch at home catching a movie marathon, about to doze off.

“How can you be so calm right now?” You rush out. “Who knows how many people are going to see this interview. Do you know how many times a day I accidentally let the F word fly out of my mouth?”

Rich lets out a snort. “I happen to know exactly how much you curse, thank you. Yesterday you said fuck 3 times in one sentence. It was charming, my mom loved it.” He moves his right arm to squeeze around your shoulders. Usually, it would be a comforting display of friendship, but you shake it off.

“And look at those three. Already so at home, I see.” You nod to the three other members of the band. Steve is exuding energy like yourself, but it’s excitement that bubbles from him. His eyes flit around the room quickly as he taps out some unknown rhythm on his bent legs. A wide grin permanently fixed on his boyish features.

At the far end of the couch, Eddie and Lawrence are wrapped up in a not-so-silent game of knuckles.

“Son of a-- Will you take off those damn rings? It’s my turn and I’m still getting bruised.” Lawrence huffs. Eddie wiggles his long, skilled, silver-clad fingers in front of his face and raises his eyebrows. “It’s all about the look, baby. Gotta play the part of the guitar god.”

“Will you both knock it off.” You call over to them. “We need both those sets of hands in playing shape for tomorrow night.”

Eddie turns, probably to counter with some playful comment about how you mother them too much, but Alan approaches.

“Alright, guys. And girl.” He flashes his perfectly white teeth your way again. “We’re about 5 minutes out from going up. Anybody need anything? Water, vodka, beer…” He turns his gaze to Steve, who is still tapping lightly on his legs. “A Xanax, perhaps?”

“Waters all around would be great, thanks.” You offer. Alan nods to a twitchy PA waiting to his side and they hurry off.

“Oh wait up, a Bud Light too, if you have any!” Eddie calls after them. The other three boys echo the same as well.

“You can take the boys out of Long Island…” you mutter to yourself. Rich teasingly pokes your side. “And something stiff for the lady!” He shouts out.

“In all manner of ways” Steve giggles. You feign a shocked expression and reach over to place a gentle slap to the side of his head. He looks over with big apologetic eyes and you stifle a laugh.

In record time, the lanky PA rushes back over with a myriad of drinks, all threatening to topple over on the tray they were precariously balanced on. Another PA trails behind, handing you all water, which you’re in desperate need of. They hand the drinks out one by one and stop before you. “Your water, Miss. And I didn’t know what you liked so I have a jack and coke, a whiskey sour, and a gin and tonic.”

“The gin and tonic is great, thanks.” They hurriedly hand you the drink and go to turn away. “Love your hair by the way.” You tell them. “I’m absolute shit at styling mine. Guess I’ll have to learn now.” They smile back at you and run a hand through their short locks before disappearing amongst the rest of the crew.

“Okay, we’re ready to rock n’ roll!” Alan exclaims, getting the band’s attention as he sits down in a chair next to your side of the couch. “We’re going to start off with a few basics on the band. Your lower thirds will have your instruments labeled but feel free to explain how you guys started out, your influences, your process. I’ll prompt you in between and then we'll talk about the album and promote your upcoming tour towards the end. Should take 15 minutes tops, so keep your answers brief. But I won’t say no to any rowdy stories you want to throw in.” He finishes with a wink.

The band nods along as you gulp down a breath, your palms becoming even slicker. The stage manager’s high voice rings out around the studio. “Playback ready! Live to tape in 5.. 4...” Rich places a hand over your knee and gives a squeeze. “Light em’ up, Bun” he mutters in your ear.

“3.. 2..” She holds up a finger and then points it at Alan, a wide smile already set on his face. The camera light flicks red as the MTV open plays from speakers around the room. Alan beings as the song fades out.

“We’re here in the studio and boy, am I excited to get to know this next band. Over at MTV we’ve been watching the steady rise of their single “Heart of the Night” on the charts. And as an added surprise, they’re here to introduce their very first music video. I’m very pleased to welcome to the studio, Lo & The Limbs!”

You try to relax your face as a camera pans across the band and settles on a two-shot of you and Alan. You know your eyes are gleaming with anxiety so you glance down the couch, silently praying for one of the boys to take the lead.

“Thanks for having us Alan, it’s such a trip to be here.” Eddie says with ease, resting his forearms on his knees.

“So, I have to ask. Who is Lo? Is it you Lawerence?” Alan questions the piano player.

“Oh god, no.” Lawrence chuckles. “Our high school was affectionately called Lo High, for Long Island HighSchool of the Arts. So we sort of tacked that on while playing during those years to let people know where we were from. That and well, as you can see we’re all above 6 foot except for Y/N, so a lot of limbs going on here.”

Alan gives a short laugh. “You released your debut album, Quiet Lies, earlier this year to growing success. Why don’t you tell me how you all started out.”

“Well, the boys and I have been together for a few years. We’ve been friends since grade school and we always just used to jam about. As we got older we started playing local bars back on Long Island to mostly middle-aged crowds, trying to break in, but it wasn’t working. Then Rich had the idea to invite Y/N to join up and it’s all kind of all taken off from there.” Eddie explains.

“We needed a pretty face to balance out all these ugly mugs” Steve pipes up.

“It took a while for her to finally concede though. She was off being too studious for the likes of us.” Rich adds on with a smile and nudge to your side. Your eyes grow wide as you feel a question directed at you coming on.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

“I- I guess, I was at NYU studying documentary filmmaking.” You choke out, but continue on. “Love this lighting set up, by the way, it really hides all sins.” That gets a light chuckle out of the crew surrounding you.

“And these sins you’re hiding are…” Alan grins but quickly bounces to the next topic. “Certainly a good call, Rich. Heart of the Night is the only song off the album that Y/N is singing lead on and look how well it’s doing. How did that happen?”

“Most of our songs were already written from before when we finally got the money to record. We wanted Y/N to feel a part of it, so she went on and wrote Heart of the Night and we were all very pleasantly surprised that it’s become such a hit.” Steve explains. “She also directed the music video we’ll be debuting today. I can’t believe she let us do all the things we did in that… well, you’ll just have to see for yourselves. We can be a bit of a handful.” The boys all chuckle.

“That and she plays the weirdest collection of instruments. Rhythm guitar, any type of strings, the saxophone… She's a boss on the harmonica.” Eddie turns to you as he speaks. “You just need to get over those pesky little nerves about your singing, Bun!” He points in your direction.

You feel the heat rise behind your perfectly painted cheeks at the slip of your nickname. You cast your gaze down at your lap. Not liking how the conversation has turned directly onto you.

Alan quirks an eyebrow at you. “Bun?” He teases.

You have yet to lift your eyes when Rich answers for you. “Bunny, an affectionate nickname. It’s stuck around since grade school when she wandered into Lawrence's backyard in search of a rabbit she was chasing.”

“A rockstar called Bunny. There’s a first for everything.” Alan quips, but quickly notices your displeasure in the current topic. Sensing your growing panic, he addresses the rest of the group. “This has been quite the debut album, with more hits sure to come from it. Any bands you’ve taken inspiration from while writing and producing?”

Rich jumps at the question. “Fleetwood Mac would be a big one. The way they layer their sounds is just unmatchable. You catch something new with every listen of an album of theirs.”

“I can’t be a pianist from Long Island and not mention the granddaddy, Billy Joel.” Lawrence adds. “His songs take you on such a ride. They’re full stories, each one of them.”

“And you, Y/N?” Alan directs the next question. “Who will you be drawing inspiration from when you write your next hit single?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s gotta be Queen for me. I’ve loved every one of their albums. I mean, the way they’ve changed their sound just in the past few years alone. They’re always transcending. Never afraid to try out something new or weave a different genre into one of their songs. But you always know it’s a Queen song. I saw them 2 years ago when they played the Garden, and fu--” You catch yourself as you get more animated. “And they were all just so on. Perfectly in sync. There’s something so distinct about their sound, so practiced. I’d love to get to their level, to be able to experiment like that. To give joy in the way they’ve given it to me.” You finish. Realizing you’ve rambled for a bit, you turn your eyes downwards yet again.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you came into the studio!” Alan laughs. “Well, you heard it here first folks, Y/N L/N is a Queen fan, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’re just as excited about their new album as well.” You nod quickly as Rich hides a smile. Knowing full well you’ll be first in line to purchase their new album, Hot Space when it drops.

“But before you get off to writing more hits, I believe you have a tour coming up!” Alan states, signaling that the interview is wrapping up.

“Yeah, we have a small American tour starting in February. But until then we’ll be opening up for Hall and Oates during their tour of the NorthEast next month.” Steve says excitedly, bouncing slightly in his seat.

“And with that, I think we’ll roll into the long-anticipated music video and directorial debut for the lovely Y/N L/N. Thank you all so much for coming in today and I can’t wait to see what’s next on the horizon for you. Here’s Lo & The Limbs with Heart of the Night!” Alan keeps his painted smile till the red light vanishes from above the lens on the large pedestal camera in front of him.

You breathe out the breath you’d been choking on as Rich puts an arm around your shoulders. He leans in and whispers lightly, “And only one hint of a fuck, ladies and gentlemen. She might just make it in this business after all.”

- - - - - - -

One Month Later - Veterans Memorial Coliseum - New Haven, Connecticut

The Limbs bound off the stage in full force, glistening with sweat and excitement. It was the largest crowd they’d played for by far. 10,000 people cheered from the audience as roadies and crew moved around them to set up for the main act, Hall and Oates. Rich spreads his long arms and huddles the rest of the group into a family hug, your skin sticking to one another, the smell of sweat filling your noses.

“I just want us to all remember this moment.” He speaks to the group, foreheads touching. “Even if nothing happens past this album. That was insane.”

“Absolutely bonkers, dude!” Steve says and he bounces up and down beside you. You all take a deep collective breath and squeeze.

“Alright, get off of me you fucks.” You laugh, untangling yourself from their vast expanse of limbs. “We all stink and I have to get out of all... this” You gesture to the skin-tight bodysuit your best friend, Dawn, had insisted you wear. Eddie presses a light kiss to your temple as he lets you into the dressing room first to change out of their view.

You close the door and sigh, glancing at yourself in the mirrors that line one wall of the room. Your eyes are bright, your hair is two times the size of when you went out on stage an hour before, and your makeup looks like you’d been in a fight. Grinning to yourself, you start to unlatch the halter top of the bodysuit, excited for the air to cool your skin.

Just as you are about to shimmy out of the rest of the ensemble, the door bursts open.

“Shit! Lawrence, what the hell?!” Scrambling to cover your top half.

Lawrence trains his eyes to the ceiling as he speaks. “Bunny, you gotta… just cover up and get your ass out here. You just... You gotta see, c’mon.”

Flustered, you hurry to redress your sticky body. After making sure everything is properly covered, you step out into the hallway backstage, already glaring at the boys. They’re all tight-lipped, staring at one another. “Okay, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You say loudly. “Shhhhh” Rich hisses as he gestures behind him with a shake of his head. You glance over his shoulder to see the backs of two men. John Hall and Daryl Oates.

“Yeah, okay... I don’t get it. We’ve hung out with them like 5 times. Why are we fangirling?”

Rich widens his eyes at you and you glance back at them again. This time they part and you can catch a glimpse of who they’ve been talking to.

The flash of a tight leather jacket, a mustache, and two front teeth shining while laughter erupts from behind them.

You gasp.

“Fucking, fuck. That’s Freddie fucking Mercury.” You say, a bit too loud.

The bold man in question locks eyes with you. Something mischievous dances behind them as he narrows his gaze. Daryl and John move to their roadies to get fixed up before heading out on stage and Freddie lets out a sharp burst of laughter as he makes his way over. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but you can’t tear your eyes from his.

“Quite the redundancy of expletives, my dear. All you had to do was say hello.” he grins at you, all teeth. You’re not one to get too clammy in front of other musicians, but your voice gets trapped in your throat. You pray to whatever gods are out there that your eyes don’t get any wider.

Eddie’s easy charm luckily saves you. “This beautiful songstress right here is Y/N L/N.” You barely lift your arms as Freddie pulls you in for a light hug and kiss on the cheek. “But you can call her Bunny.” Eddie grins. So much for easy charm you think as you stare daggers into the profile of his face.

“Ha! Bunny? Oh my, that is wonderful.” Freddie chuckles. “It sounds as if you’re a socialite... Or a stripper. I can’t tell.” He beams at you. You can’t help but beam right back.

“Come along. Let us watch the show and you can tell me which one it is.” He says with a wink. “And introduce me to these giants you call your band.” He grabs your arm and leads you off, the boys in tow. Bouncing with excitement for what’s to come.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deaky x reader #deacy x reader #angelofmydreams

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

The Christmas Date

Rafael Barba x Reader.

CW: NSFW - it’s about to get smutty y’all.

AN: Prompt #15 (Red & White) from the @thefanficfaerie Christmas OTP challenge.

Tags: @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @theenchantedgalleryofstories @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @niyashell @tropes-and-tales @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @zoeykaytesmom @redlipstickandplaid @kscarlett1

***

The instructions from Rafael were simple enough: Wear something fancy and pack an overnight bag for a weekend - pack warmly.

You finished packing the last of your toiletries in your small duffel bag before moving on to slip on a pair of white heels. You wore a red open back jumpsuit, that also had a deep neck in the front which showed off your décolletage. Your hair, which was normally up, was loose and delicate white marbled resin hoop earrings hung off your ears.

You spritzed some perfume on your wrist and rubbed it against your other wrist. You carefully applied your lipstick, which Your makeup was muted, save for a bold lip which complimented your dress.

There was a staccato knock on the door and you knew it was Rafael. You gave yourself a once over and approved of your appearance. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you approached the door and nervous energy coursed through you.

You opened the door to find Rafael there. Though he wore a caramel coat, it was open. He wore dark charcoal suit, outfitted with a red tie adorned with tiny white snowflakes. Rafael let out a low whistle when he saw you.

“Y/N - you are stunning,” he complimented. You preened in response. “And I like what you did with your door.” Your door was decorated with silver and gold snowflakes, cutouts of a holiday village and a big green wreath with a red and white bow.

“Thank you. Do you want to come in or do we have to go?”

“We have to go - do you have your bag? I have a car waiting.”

You nodded and took a few steps just to grab it. You lifted it proudly and Rafael took the duffle from your hand and opened his arm, so you could link into his.

***

“Rafael when you said you wanted to wine and dine me, you weren’t kidding,” you exclaimed in a near-whisper as you waited to be seated at Rolf, a snug German restaurant and bar known for its elaborate Christmas decorations.

Rafael pecked a kiss on your cheek. “Merry early Christmas. I have much more up my sleeve,” he purred in your ear. His hand rested on the small of your back, as the two of you were led to a table. You looked at him and cocked your brow. Rafael winked in response and you blushed.

“Flat or sparkling?” asked a waiter.

“Sparkling please,” you requested.

“I know I said it already, but you look beautiful,” Rafael gushed, reaching over to take your hand into his.

You flushed pink. “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself. I like the Windsor knot. Very classy.”

It was Rafael’s turn to raise a brow.

“You know knots?” He asked as he took a sip of water.

You nodded. “My brother was always messing with his ties in school. I had to constantly fix them.”

“Reminds me of when I was little and in Catholic School. If my tie was an inch out of place, Sister Maria would give me a demerit. And if I got a demerit, my father...” Rafael gritted the last part and unconsciously, balled his hand into a fist. You reached across and grabbed Rafael’s fist, breaking him out of his unhappy memory.

“Hey. Are you okay? I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Rafael blinked rapidly. “I should be the one apologizing,” he began, but you held up a hand shaking your head.

“Don’t. And if you want to talk about it, I’m here and if you don’t, that’s okay too.”

Rafael squeezes your hand. “Let’s discuss something else then.”

From there, the conversation flowed more easily, on more lighter topics as you two dined on roast duck, stewed kale, chicken schnitzel and potato cakes. You both washed the cozy comfort food down with hefeweizens.

Rafael was detailing a recent win when he noticed your foot was slowly climbing up his pant leg. You settled at the apex of legs, and slowly rubbed. Rafael coughed and shifted.

You cocked your brow once more, as you took a swig of your beer. The waiter approached once more. “Can I interest you in dessert?”

You shook your head no, and Rafael requested the check. “I’m interested in a totally different dessert,” you purred into Rafael’s ear.

Rafael turned you to face him. “I was hoping you’d say something of the sort.”

***

“Where are we headed to now?” you asked, as you climbed back into the car.

“It’s a surprise,” Rafael replied.

Twenty minutes later, you were at your destination: The Peninsula Hotel. Gold reindeers and red holly berries flanked the awning over the entrance. Multiple Christmas trees adorned the lobby. It was lavish and over the top. The suite was equally as lavish and opulent. Decorated tastefully in cerulean blue and ivory, the room had Art Deco features and stylish modern furniture. A large lacquered TV cabinet was set in one corner, a fluffy California king-size bed on the opposite side. The suite was large, with big windows which you knew would provide ample light during the day.

“Oh Raf, this is just magical!” you exclaimed, walking in.

Rafael pulled you close to him. He pushed your hair from your face, his soft fingers tracing down your cheek. He studied you intently, as if he were trying to memorize all of your features.

“It’s all for you,” he murmured before dipping his head to capture your lips with his. You sighed into the kiss, fervently kissing him back. Your tongue traced his bottom lip, seeking entrance to which he happily obliged. Rafael’s hands moved to the slope of your waist, drawing you even closer and instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck. Large warm hands moved to your derrière, cupping and squeezing as your tongues battled against one another’s. You were flushed, and felt warm all over, especially at the core.

Rafael could sense he was quickly going into overdrive and he hesitantly broke the kiss, in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. You whined at the lost contact.

“Paciencia,” Rafael rumbled, low. He scanned the room and found the bar cart. “Can I get you something to drink?”

You shook your head. You noticed the room had a grand piano off to the side. As Rafael poured himself a drink, you sat at the bench. You cracked your hands before years of training settled over you. You sat straight and you gently caressed the keys. As the beginning notes of Liszt’s Liebestraum No.3 began to fill the room, Rafael turned around in stunned silence.

You swayed with the tune, your eyes closed and head bowed down as you concentrated. It had been awhile since you touched a piano but it was almost second nature.

You felt the bench dip with Rafael’s weight and he sat next to you, as you continued to play. After a minute or two had passed, you stopped playing and turned to Rafael.

“Please don’t stop playing on my account. That was beautiful.”

You turned to Rafael and pressed a small kiss on his lips. You hummed in appreciation. “Thank you.”

Rafael took the opportunity to return your kiss. The kiss quickly intensified, the two of you pawing at each other. You made quick work of removing his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. You ran your hands up and down his arms, feeling the the solid muscles underneath your touch. Rafael’s kisses moved to the slope of your neck, causing you to shiver. Slowly you both stood, continuing to work at each other’s clothes. The two of you crashed against the piano, which let out a groan of cacophonous sounds.

Rafael’s hands trailed up your sides, to the soft swell of your breasts. You sighed contentedly into his touch as he cupped and squeezed.

You broke the kiss, so you could remove the straps of the jumpsuit, before hooking your thumbs into the waist, and pushing it down to let it pool at your feet. You were naked save for the white lace panties you wore. Rafael took your form in; his eyes were dark, and full of lust. He could feel his cock twitch in response. Wantonly, he rubbed himself through his pants.

You smirked and coquettishly bit your lip, before sinking to your knees. As Rafael removes his shirt and tie, you undid his belt and pants, pushing them down. You palmed his erection though his boxers, enjoying the groan that he emitted. You helped Rafael remove his boxers, and licked your lips at the sight before you. You could feel your desire dripping between your legs.

You ran your tongue over his length before taking him fully into your mouth. His cock felt heavy in your mouth. You could taste the salty pre-cum that leaked from the tip.

“Oh God, yes,” Rafael hissed. You sucked on the head of his cock before flicking your tongue at the spot where the head met the shaft. As you sucked Rafael’s cock, you feel your panties dampen more. It turned you on to suck his cock. You used a free hand to jerk him while you sucked and slobbered all over his cock.

You hummed and rubbed your hands up and down the inside of Rafael’s thighs. You scraped your nails gently on his thighs and you felt him twitch in your mouth. The sounds of your mouth slobbering all over his cock drove Rafael crazy.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, sending vibrations up and through Rafael’s body. Rafael tangled a hand into your hair, gripping your head tightly, guiding your movements on his cock.

You pulled away, a strand of saliva connected you to him and Rafael almost came alone at the erotic sight. You ran your hands along his thighs and then to his buttocks, gripping tightly. You relaxed your jaw to take him deeper.

Rafael’s thrusts became more erratic and you knew he was close to coming. Pulling him out of your mouth completely, you ducked your head to lick and suck at his balls gently. Rafael hissed and threw his head back, willing himself to not come - he was dangerously close. Stepping back, Rafael pulled you up and kissed you so hard you were positive your lips would be bruised. His hands cupped your buttocks, and he lifted you, laying you gently on the piano. One hand held you in place, while the other palmed the course of your body. Your nipples were hardened peaks - every fiber of your body was on fire. You could almost hear the erotic charge cracking in the room.

Rafael paused his movement right at your lower belly. Gently, he spread your legs. His breath was warm against your soaking cunt, and you were desperate to relieve the aching in between your legs. He cupped your clothed pussy with his palm. “You’re so wet,” Rafael noted, a pleased lilt in his voice. He pushed your panties to the side and slipped a finger in. You sighed in relief at the feeling of his finger stroke you.

“All for you Rafael,” you mewled.

Rafael slipped another finger inside of you, his tempo quickening.

“Is that what you like?”’ he asked huskily. “My fingers fucking you?”

“Yes,” you cried out, feeling your orgasm quickly build. Rafael chuckled low, before removing his fingers. “Or maybe you will like my tongue?”

You whined at the lost contact. Just as you were about to reply, his lips and tongue were on your most intimate parts, sucking, licking and swirling.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned, your back arching at the sensation. Rafael’s tongue lapped one long hard strip from your opening up to your clit, the wet, warm muscle circling your bundle of nerves before his lips closed around it. Rafael worked your orgasm alternating with his mouth and fingers.

You groaned, murmuring Rafael’s name with praise. You grabbed at your own flesh, pinching and tugging on your nipples, as you felt your orgasm begin to build.

Rafael paused his actions to take a breath. He looked at you and the sight was his near undoing: your wrecked face, your quivering body was flushed pink, and your breathing was shallow, uneven. He continued to finger fuck you, at one point scissoring his fingers. With the other hand free, he jerked himself, in an attempt to give himself some relief from his own ache, which was throbbing.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, nearly sobbing. Rafael used the pad of his thumb to rub your swollen pink nub.

“Oh I will, cariño. First I want you to come for me,” he commanded with a grunt.

Your body commanded his request. You wailed his name as you fell apart, your pussy clenching over his fingers.

Slowly, Rafael removed his fingers. His cock was angry, red and weeping. Helping you off the piano, he kept you steady as your legs felt wobbly, as if they were made from jello. You kissed him once more, your lip nipping and tugging at his bottom lip. There was an large, arm-less over-sized chair off to the side of the piano and you sat Rafael down onto it. Rafael helped you climb onto his lap, and reaching down, you pulled your panties to the side and guided him into you.

“You sit back now; I’ll take care of you,” you cooed into his ear.

Rafael groaned into your neck as you sunk onto his cock. His cock fit you perfectly and you felt delightfully full; the stretch of his girth was delicious. Rafael had one hand on your hips, the other one you breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your hands were on his shoulders, as you bounced on his cock. Rafael met you thrust for thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock,” Rafael groaned.

The sounds of skin on skin and moaning from the two of you filled the room.

“Oh God, Rafael - I think I am going to —“ the words were caught in your throat.

“That’s it sweetheart. Cum on this cock, cream for me baby,” Rafael grunted, continuing to fuck into you with every ounce of his being. Beads of sweat dropped off the two of you.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, your head lolling forward to rest against his.

“Never.” Rafael scooted forward so he was on the edge of the chair. He started to fuck you hard and fast. He was relentless, pounding you deeply; you were certain you would feel it the next day. You felt yourself clench around him, your orgasm exploding. You cried out Rafael’s name and squeezed your eyes so hard, you saw stars.

Watching you come completely undone was Rafael’s own undoing and he came with a roar, your name spilling from his lips as he came inside of you. Rafael coming made you come again once more; the walls of your pussy clenched around him tightly, milking his release.

You collapsed against Rafael, and he collapsed against the chair backing. You were both a sweaty tangle of arms and legs.

After a few minutes, you pressed a chaste kiss on Rafael’s cheek before peeling your sweaty self off of him. “Come on,” you outstretched your hand.

You made your way to the fluffy bed and climbed in, Rafael following suit. “Tonight was wonderful. Thank you,” you murmured sleepily.

“Rest cariño - I have more in store,” Rafael replied, holding you close. Snuggling up against Rafael, it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep, wrapped around each other.

FIN

#barba and reader #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba x reader #barba x reader #rafaelbarbafanfic #rafaelbarbaimagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba smut #christmas otp challenge

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golden-deer-dear · 5 years

Text

Heartbeat, Claude x Byleth Fic

Summary: Today their dream comes to fruition. Too bad for Byleth it starts with a nightmare.

Notes: Yeah, another one shot based on jullika's art. To be fair, she tricked me into this one. XD

Read on AO3.

Heartbeat

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

That drumming noise, it was echoing in her head. Her entire body radiated with the sound. She breathed deeply, matching each exhale to the next thump. She had no idea where it was coming from, but there was something about it that was comforting. It held her steady, her back straight and her head held high.

Ba-dum.

The light of dawn caressed her face, welcoming her with its warmth. It wrapped itself around her like a lover.

Ba-dum.

He stood before her, suddenly revealed in the new light. His back was toward her, but even as he turned to look at her over his shoulder the drumming grew faster.

Badum. Badum.

She sucked in a breath, holding it as the light turned red. Her mouth opened, the scream that ripped its way from her lips silent, swallowed up in the void that stood between them. He fell to his knees, cloak billowing behind him, hiding his body from her as he crumpled to the stones.

Badum badum badum badum badum!

The cloak drifted down slowly, covering his body and hiding his features from her sight. Blood turned the rich yellow fabric crimson, the morning light shifting in shade until it matched the life source staining the tiles.

Silence.

The drumming stopped. Her precious dawn, the one they had both looked forward to for so long, rose harsh and biting. It cast everything it touched in a terrible crimson, and as she reached out for him, all she saw was that crimson coating her hands.

Byleth awoke with a gasp, reaching out for her husband instinctively. She sucked in great gasps of air, her entire body shaking with the aftermath of her nightmare. Her hands met only blankets, still warm from where he laid on them mere moments before. The evidence of his previous presence did nothing to ease her thoughts.

“Claude?” She grimaced at the sound of her own voice, rough and vulnerable, unguarded in a way she only showed to him. “Claude!” she called out again when there was no answer.

“Hey,” Claude came skidding through the doorway, concern etched into his handsome face. He still only wore the loose pants he had slept in, but had managed to already pick up ink stains along his fingertips. “I’m right here, By. What’s going on?”

Claude rejoined her on the bed, settling easily in front of her. His hands wrapped around Byleth’s wrists, running up and down her arms in a silent show of comfort. Byleth leaned into his touch as she shook her head, feeling foolish now that he was in front of her.

“A nightmare, nothing more,” Byleth answered, grateful her voice sounded almost normal again.

“Certainly doesn’t seem like nothing,” Claude countered.

He waited, his intense green gaze studying her face and making it impossible for her to hide anything from him. “It was of today. Something went wrong, and...I watched you fall.”

“Hey now.” One of Claude’s hands raised to her cheek, Byleth tilting her head and nuzzling against his palm. He was impossibly warm, casting his own rays of sunshine onto her skin. “Everything is in place. Everyone knows what they need to do. Have a little confidence in them, By. They were trained by you after all,” he added with that signature smirk. “Everything will be fine. This is the accumulation of all our years of work.”

“I know,” Byleth said softly, breathing easier when Claude lifted his other hand to her face as well, framing her between his strong hands. “There have just been so many threats against you. I know we’ve done everything we can to prevent anything happening to you…” Byleth breathed deeply, Claude’s presence sweeping away the lingering taint of her dream. That one small action made her seem herself again. “I could hear your heartbeat echoing around me, and then it was just gone.”

That only caused Claude’s smirk to widen. “Well, you were pretty much draped completely over me when I woke up. It was adorable, you curled up against my chest. You even made this grumpy little noise when I had to move you. So, my love, it was just me getting up that caused you to stop hearing my heart.”

Byleth glared at him as a blush spread across her cheeks. She could easily imagine how delighted he had been upon hearing whatever noise she had made. They were prime fodder whenever he teased her.

And yet her gaze softened as his own did the same. She found it very hard to stay annoyed when Claude looked at her with his eyes full of such open love and tenderness. “Don’t worry about me, Teach,” he whispered, a lock of hair falling in front of his face as he bent toward her. “Come on, a kiss will make you feel better. Let me claim your lips instead of us focusing on all this negativity.”

Claude yelped when he was suddenly shoved back, Byleth straddling his waist. It was followed up by another cry of surprise, swallowed quickly as Byleth leaned over him to press a bruising kiss against his lips. Claude rapidly recovered, wrapping his arms around her and simply allowing Byleth to take the lead. She poured her fears into that kiss, allowing Claude to take them and simply brush them aside.

“How about more than a kiss?” she asked, rocking back against his half hard cock. She wanted him, needed to feel him alive beneath her hands; needed the reminder of his warmth to linger on her skin and inside her, giving her the strength necessary to get through the day.

“We’re going to be late,” Claude pointed out, tone completely carefree. His argument was further damaged as his hands rose to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples through the fabric of her nightgown.

“They can’t start without us,” Byleth countered.

Claude laid back and allowed Byleth to take what she needed, reassuring her with gentle caresses and murmured words. He was hers as much as she was his, and they lent their strength to each other. Between the heat of her husband’s lips and that wonderful ache as he filled her, Byleth chased away the remnants of her dream, the first in which Sothis had not appeared, and welcomed the dawn light that highlighted his smile.

She held her divine powers at her fingertips throughout Claude’s entire speech, ready to reverse time if they were unable to prevent the worst from occurring. Lorenz, Hilda, and Leonie stood a few steps behind, a bulwark against any harm that would come from behind them. The rest of the Deer, including those Byleth had adopted into their class, were close at hand, alert to any danger that would interrupt the day. Byleth caught a flash of white as Ingrid flew overhead, keeping an eye out from the back of her pegasus.

Only once did Byleth see anything that would cause a disturbance, but Shamir quickly slipped through the crowd and handled the situation. Byleth let herself breathe again as three men were lead off discreetly, but kept herself alert for any other possible assassins.

“Today is the dawn of a dream I once thought impossible,” Claude shouted to the crowd gathered at the Locket. They practically vibrated with energy as their king’s words filled them with hope and optimism. “Today Almyra and Fódlan are officially joined as one! It is our sincerest hope that you join us in celebration, for this is the start of a better world we have all fought for!”

A cry went up from the crowd, a mix of both countries, echoing off the stones of Fódlan’s Locket. It carried down the mountains, spilling over across the abolished border. Almyra and Fódlan had truly been joined for some time, but as with everything political, a ceremony was needed to make it official. It was not done without protest, and many threats were made against the Ruler of Dawn and the King of Unification. More seemed to be aimed at Claude than at her. Byleth, as the living embodiment of Fódlan’s goddess, drew less ire from the devout who took her words as if they were from the goddess’ lips.

Claude turned, taking Byleth’s hands in his own. “See? Told you I’d be fine.”

Byleth looked at his grinning face with her usual blank expression. “Careful Claude, there’s still a dinner to get through,” she said lightly. Her eyes though told him how proud she was, how much of his joy she shared.

“Excellent! You know how good I am with poisons!”

He grinned as he cupped her cheeks, the soft leather of his gloves caressing her skin. It was a rare form of public affection for them, but Byleth appreciated the similarity to when he had comforted her that morning. “Byleth, my pipe dream came true. I never could have done this without you.”

Byleth matched his smile, covering his hands with her own. “The dawn of a new world.”

“A better world.”

Claude leaned forward to place a kiss on her lips, the crowd cheering at the sight of their rulers’ affectionate display. Byleth felt heat rush to her cheeks, having forgotten they were even there, but she did not pull away. Claude was her shining dawn, and she would do anything to keep those beautiful sunrises in the world.

And should anything try to harm Claude, Byleth would move the heavens themselves to protect him.

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

I feel like this is the least close I've gotten to doing one of jull's amazing pieces justice. -_-

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #fanfic #my fic #one shot #jullika is dangerous for me

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coffeeandcannolis · 5 years

Text

Red Hot

Gif credit to the owner! If it’s yours, please message me and I’ll add the tag!

Warnings: mentions of drug and alcohol use, profanity

A/N: I’m working this piece to possibly be the first in a new series, so if you like it, please send in your feedback!

The afterparty was alight with drugs, alcohol, and sweaty bodies. Music pumped through the building, vibrations of bass guitar rumbling all the way down the street, and drunk voices intermittently screamed along with vaguely correct lyrics.

The energy was contagious: the surge of so much art and creation blended together and the remnants of live music created the most natural, pure high anyone could hope to achieve.

Mötley Crüe was back in Los Angeles after months on their biggest tour yet. A sold-out show at The Forum closed the run with a fiery bang, and the Malibu mansion afterparty kept excitement at a fever pitch. Everyone was feeling the high: even Mick was up and cracking jokes, a handle of vodka clutched firmly in one hand.

They were home. Finally.

Nikki had a girl under each arm, a bottle of Jack Daniels hanging loosely from his fingers, when a familiar voice broke him out of his drug and booze-addled haze.

“Glad to see you’re still up to your same bullshit, Sixx.”

He whipped his head around, eyes wide and pupils blown from whatever was pumping its way through his system. His face broke into the biggest grin he’d shown in weeks.

“Holy shit,” he laughed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Nikki pulled me into a tight hug, the groupies behind him long forgotten. I laughed as he lifted my feet off the ground.

“Heard you were back in town, couldn’t resist.” I pulled away when he set me back down, smile matching his in size and genuine excitement.

He shook his head, still laughing in disbelief. “Did you see the show?”

“Who do you think I am, Sixx? Of course I saw the fucking show.” I punched his shoulder. “You guys are fucking crazy, dude.” I pulled him in for another, more serious hug. “I’m really proud of you, Nikki.”

Nikki finally took the chance to look me over. A knowing smirk crossed his lips.

“Shit, you look amazing. How was that, uh... fuck, what were you shooting again?”

“A film, Nikki,” I laughed.

“Fuck, of course - Tom Cruise, right?” He brought the bottle of Jack to his lips, and I snatched it from his grip before he could take a swig.

“Right.” I took a heavy pull from the bottle. “How about you get me a real drink, huh? Then I’ll tell you all about Tom and that famous smile.”

“Yes ma’am,” he slurred. He draped an arm over me and led me outside to the poolside bar.

“Jack on the rocks for the lady, with two limes.” He leaned over the bar.

“You remembered,” I gasped in mock surprise.

“’Course I fuckin’ remembered. You’re the only one I know who puts limes in every goddamned drink,” Nikki replied. He turned back to the bartender. “And four vodka shots, please.”

“That’s the Nikki I know and love.” I grabbed the first two shots poured and tossed them back before Nikki could get a word in.

Nikki paused in the middle of cutting two lines on the bar top and barked out a drunken laugh.

“And that’s the Faith I know and love,” he cheered. “Did Tom party with you like that? Or could he not keep up with your Sixx-corrupted drinking habits?” He snorted up one line of snow and stood, giving me a challenging look towards the other. I rolled my eyes.

“You’ll have to ask him,” I quipped as I bent over the bar. Through the roaring chaos of the party surrounding us, my head spinning from booze, I barely registered an excited voice bound its way over.

“Dude, you gotta get over here, Vince is trying to throw Mick in the pool and - “ the voice trailed off as I stood up, a pair of blue eyes wide and locked on me as I wiped stray powder from my nose.

Nikki chuckled at Tommy’s silence. “Uh, Tommy, this is Faith. Faith, this is our drummer, Tommy Lee.” His gaze darted back and forth between us, sensing something deeper take shape in the moonlight.

A warm buzz began to flow through my body and I wasn’t quite sure it was from the drugs. I stuck my hand out and gave him a soft smile. “You guys killed it tonight.”

Tommy blinked at me for another moment before shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it, pieces of hair falling in his eyes. He stepped forward and Nikki chuckled when his feet tripped up underneath him.

“Have we met before?” He gripped my hand, and something about the skin-to-skin contact took my breath away. “You look really familiar, but I think I would remember - “

“She’s an actress, Tom,” Nikki broke in. Tommy still held onto my hand. “We’ve been tight since my London days.” He looked at Tommy and then pointedly at our grip - Tommy let out a cough and yanked his hand back, brushing nervous fingers against his leather pants and the drumsticks hooked through his belt. “She just wrapped a movie with Tom Cruise, and she won’t tell me a fuckin’ thing about it.”

“Come on, Sixx,” I laughed, barely able to take my gaze away from Tommy. I winked at Nikki. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

Tommy gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He was mesmerized, gaze flicking back and forth between me and his bandmate. Trying to assess the situation, gage our relationship, figure out why he felt like he’d just met someone he’d known all his life.

Nikki saw everything play out behind Tommy’s eyes. He knew Tommy better than anyone.

“Faith’s like my little sister, man.” Nikki bumped Tommy’s shoulder. “Except when she drinks me under the table.”

“Speaking of,” I cut in, brushing past Tommy as I reached over the bar. My top rode up as I stretched, and Tommy couldn’t help looking at the exposed skin of my back and waist. I held up a fresh bottle of whiskey. “Who wants another shot?” I looked at Tommy to find him already staring back at me. Nikki caught my blush.

“I better go find Vinny.” A mischievous smirk crossed his lips. “You two seem to have this under control.” He pointed at me. “Don’t leave without finding me first.” Nikki leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, clapped a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, and started to make his way back around the pool.

I looked up at Tommy. Even in my platform boots, he was still a good foot taller than me - 6′4″ to my 5′3.″ I could barely imagine what it would be like if I was barefoot. There was something about his eyes, too... it was like I could look in them forever and never get lost.

“What do you say, Tommy?” I held up the bottle. “Drinking contest? Or is infamous rockstar Tommy Lee afraid he’ll lose to a girl half his size?”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped forward. “Fuck, you’re mean.”

Our chests were almost touching. I could smell notes of cologne under the sweat, booze, and cigarettes. Tommy thought I smelled like vanilla and sunshine.

I titled my chin up at him. “Is that a yes?”

“Yo, Nik, isn’t that your blonde actress friend talking to Tommy over there?” Vince had Sharise tucked under his arm and nodded across the room. “She’s hot, man.” Nikki followed his gaze and grinned.

I was sitting on a barstool inside and Tommy was leaned against the high-top counter next to me - or, more accurately, almost on top of me. We were deep in conversation, drinks in our hands, cheeks flushed from the high.

Nikki chuckled to himself. Tommy was a hopeless romantic, that much they all knew, but he had never seen that particular spark in his eye before. Or a grin that wide on my face, for that matter.

“Yeah, man. I introduced them hours ago.” Nikki took another sip of his drink.

“I’ve never seen the kid look that happy before,” Mick drawled from his spot on the couch. “Like it’s Christmas morning or some shit.”

They watched as I tossed my head back in drunken laughter at something Tommy said. I lost my balance on the barstool and Tommy jumped forward, wrapped an arm around me and tugged me back onto my seat. We both erupted in giggles, his hand still wrapped firmly around my waist.

“He’s a goner,” Vince chuckled.

Nikki shook his head in content disbelief, watching his brother fall in love with his best friend before his eyes. He brought his glass to his lips one more time, muttering into the rim before taking a sip.

“Tom Cruise has got nothin’ on Tommy fuckin’ Lee.”

#mgk!tommy lee #tommy lee x reader #the dirt #the dirt imagine #the dirt x reader #mgk!tommy lee x reader #tommy lee imagine #motley crue imagine

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silvensei · 5 years

Text

Complementary

Shou, having grown up messing with psychic powers, figured out how to leave his body. The obvious next step is trying to take over another.

Started this like a year ago, based on this post I stumbled upon by @hydrachea, and finally got around to finishing it! Just some rowdy espers being teen boys.

(On AO3 too! Link in a reblog because I never know if external links are functional)

Ritsu narrowed his eyes, the question he was just given running through his head for a third and fourth time. Sitting on his bed, staring ahead, he tried for a fifth pass to work out what he could possibly say next. Mmm…nope. “You’re going to have to say that…one more time.”

Seated on the ground in the center of his room, legs crossed, back straight (a bit unusual for the rowdy teen), and a barely contained smirk on his lips, Shou drummed his hands on his ankles. “I asked,” he repeated, carefully, “if I could perhaps…for a little bit…borrow…your body.”

Ritsu ran a hand down his face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought you said.”

“I know what you’re thinking, dude: It’s not something you hear every day—”

“No, it’s really not!”

His hands changed their rhythm, quickening into a drumroll before finding their pattern. “So. To give you some backstory—”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“—some lore, now, okay.” Pata-tata pata-tata pata-tata. “So my dad used to know this one psychic in town. Or not know him; he kept tabs on every esper around, so I would steal copies of his records to see what powers people had, because if some rando can do it, why can’t I? And so this guy, his specialty was astral projection, but he like, leapt from his body just to spy on people or watch his neighbor’s Netflix or some shit. Anyway, didn’t take long to figure out. You could probably pick it up, too. Your brother is probably doing it right now, watching from above, oooo….” He tapped out a light decrescendo, leaning forward for effect.

Ritsu quirked his eyebrows. It was just a joke, but he still wondered. What would Shigeo even use it for?

With one final beat, Shou swung his hands to the floor behind him, leaning back on his propped arms. “It got me thinking: What am I when I astral project? It’s still me, but not in my body, so am I a ghost? Am I like a spirit? And since regular spirits can possess people, then….” As if going over it again knocked his confidence down a peg, he flashed a sheepish smile.

His friend did not react. “You want to possess me,” he said.

“I want to see if it’s possible!” Shou corrected. “And if it is, then would I get—would we have double the power? Would you look different at all, like some sign that it wasn’t all you in there? Will you be awake at all? Just think of the possibilities! The pranks!”

Ritsu’s stomach turned. This is crazy. This doesn’t just happen. Your friend doesn’t just saunter into your house unannounced, steal a soda from the fridge, make light banter with your family, and then body snatch you. It doesn’t happen!

…but…what if...?

He closed his eyes, head shaking back and forth. “This is insane,” he grumbled. “People ask to borrow phone chargers and cups of sugar, not....” He waved a hand towards his head before letting it drop to his blankets.

Shou took a swig of his soda. It was already almost empty. “I get it, I’ve been sitting on this for like, weeks, but I’m not just gonna go possess some poor bastard off the street; I do have some morals. And who else am I supposed to ask, a non-esper? My old man? Your brother?”

Process of elimination, that made logical sense, but it didn’t do much to quell his concerns. It’s not like he didn’t trust Shou. His close friend Shou Suzuki was different from the enigmatic threat Shou Suzuki that burned down his house on their second meeting. Now, that didn’t mean he would trust Shou with everything. Maybe to return a loaned book. Maybe not with the care and well-being of a life. His life in this case.

But it’s not like he would be unsupervised. Probably. When Dimple possessed him, not only was he awake, but in control, too, so there was a chance Shou wouldn’t even be able to do anything. And Dimple did help his powers develop astonishingly quickly. Maybe….

Ritsu grumbled, falling back on the bed. God damn it, he was curious to see what would happen, but just the thought of it made his skin crawl. It was enough of a tough decision when it was a weak little smart-aleck of a ghost whom he could use solely as a mean to a desperate end. This, however, was his friend. His living human friend that he saw on a regular basis, in his own living human body. They hadn’t ever hugged before, and now Shou would be using his arms, existing within his head—oh god, would he be able to hear Shou’s thoughts?

“You overthinking things with that big brain of yours again?” The empty can clattered onto Ritsu’s desk. “It’s not like I’m going to steal your life and go on a heist spree. It’ll be a few minutes, maybe more if something cool happens. A day max.”

“A day?!”

“A couple hours, absolute max, it’s up to you. I’d offer to do your homework while I’m you, too, but we both know I don’t know shit about school and no one would want that.”

That earned a half-smile from Ritsu. If Shou went to class as him, he felt his grades would instantly drop a letter as soon as he walked through the door. Student Council would fall into shambles. Shigeo would try to exorcise him.

The mattress tossed him an inch into the air when Shou flopped on his stomach to Ritsu’s left. “So…?” he asked, looking over with one of his trademarked trickster teen grins.

It’d be an experiment. Had this ever been done before? Few people seem to be as versatile in the psychic arts as Shou and the other espers of Seasoning City. And even if it had, he doubted it was documented in any way, so the previous query was really a moot point. But would it actually combine their powers into an unstoppable force? Should another threat ever come to this magnet of a town, it would be useful to have a trump card like that. A trump card like…having control of himself wrest from his grasp from a being within his own skin….

Ritsu folded his hands over his midriff, tapping a finger against his knuckle. “None of this seems just the least bit…wrong to you?” he asked, pointedly looking at the ceiling.

“What, hanging out over the weekend to possess my best friend?”

He pursed his lips. “Yes, that.”

“Uncommon, yeah, but it’s only wrong based on your definition of it.” Shou tried to make wise and erudite gestures like pointing and tapping his head even though lying face-down restricted his movement. “Spirits do it all the time, it’s just how they are, but we only question their intentions, not the action itself.”

“But you’re not a spirit! You’re alive, you have your own body, and this isn’t natural at all, intentions or otherwise.”

“You can say none of these powers are ‘natural’ in the first place, but we’re stuck with ‘em anyway.” He mimed air quotes a couple times more.

Ritsu didn’t have an argument for that. It was a good point. A year ago, bending spoons wouldn’t have seemed natural to him, either; it was just an anomalous habit of his anomalous brother.

“And I do have a body, no shit, Sherlock,” he continued, “but since I can separate myself from it, it’s more like just a sweet suit with bitchin’ hair. The me that’s me is the personality and the superpowers. It doesn’t really matter to me whether that personality is in my head or yours, ‘cause I’m me either way, and you’ll still be you.”

Ritsu looked over at him, for the first time since he posited the question. Shou had dropped the grin in favor for a small, neutral frown as he picked at a loose thread he found in the blankets. “How long did you say you’ve been thinking about this…?” he asked.

The boy met his eyes, but instead of an answer, he got a smile with too many teeth. “Does that mean you’re game?”

Ritsu took a deep breath. Then he took another one. If anything, it beat doing algebra. “Sure. Fine. I don’t have to do anything besides be here, after all. But—!” He sat up and pointed a finger at his overzealous companion. “No leaving this house—no leaving this room, actually, why would you need to. No haircuts, no photos, no calls, no texts, no— just—!” He stopped himself. He did trust him. To an extent. He sighed. Instead of trying to tie up every possible loophole, he concluded with, “Just have some respect, is all.”

Shou’s burnt orange aura flared up, throwing him off the bed to stand. He snapped his feet together to attention and saluted, a giddy grin on his face and supernatural fire in his eyes. “You can count on me, Captain!”

And then his aura moved without him, whipping around at the edges before amassing over his shoulders. The energy glowed and coalesced before it darted away, a pale tangerine shape spinning in circuits up to the ceiling.

Shou’s face went slack, his eyes losing their light as they slid shut, mouth falling with the rest of his body. “Don’t—!” Ritsu swore before swooping in to catch him, half holding him up before his upper torso could hit the edge of the bed. “Don’t just do that with no warning! I didn’t think you meant right this instant!”

He kneeled to safely lower his friend to the floor. As soon as he let go, the orange form darted into view. He winced and threw up an arm on reflex, but it hung in front of him, over the body lying comatose (lifeless?) on the ground. It was Shou-shaped for the most part, if Shou were made of fog physically vibrating with excitement. Which he currently was.

Ritsu lowered his arm, as well as his instinctive psychic defenses. He sighed and turned to lean back against his bed. “Just give me more of a heads up next time,” he said before closing his eyes.

He could hear the hum of power before he felt it. A force slammed into his senses, causing a barrier to flare up before he steadied himself and dispelled it. The moment it wisped away, it was like a frozen stake shot through his brain. A telltale sign of possession, he knew, but it didn’t stop there this time. His breath caught in his throat as a chill clouded his head, sending a violent shiver down his spine, seeping into his lungs and through his skin to his fingertips. A gasp escaped him, and his eyes blinked open, before the cold stopped in its tracks, fully freezing over, encasing him in ice and locking him in place.

And then his eyes blinked again. A slow breath filled his chest that bubbled to a roll of laughter as his lips spread to bare his teeth. “Oh, Ritsu,” he sung, “you better be awake for this, ‘cause this is fucking wicked!”

Jesus, thought Ritsu, most definitely still conscious and most definitely thrown out of control. He tried to say that aloud with a grimace, neither of which his body emulated. This is disconcerting.

His head perked up. “Hey, there you are!” his voice announced. “You still sound like you in my head—our head—”

My head.

“Our head, and I sound like you, too! Double the Ritsu!” Shou cracked his borrowed neck, interlacing his fingers and pushing his palms to the sky in a stretch. “I’ve never heard you sound this happy before!”

And you still haven’t.

“Mm, that’s a debate you will lose on a technicality. And you should stretch more often, bro, it feels cramped in here.”

Because it is cramped in here!

Shou jumped to his feet, rolling his shoulders. Ritsu groaned. This was nothing like the time with Dimple. He was just hoping he wouldn’t regret this decision any more than he already did.

His eyes swept the room, his hands rotating in loose circles that cracked his wrists. “Yo, you don’t have a mirror in here?”

No.

“That’s fine, probably one in the bathroom, right?” he asked, already moving to open the door into the hallway.

Shou, what did I—!

“Chill, dude, I just wanna see how you look.” Shou cracked open the door, checked for anyone in sight, and slipped into the bathroom across the hall, closing the door behind him with a soft click. When the lights flicked on, they both gasped.

Shou stared back from the square mirror over the sink. Anyone would know it was Shou. Blue eyes were a rarity in Japan, and anyone would immediately know that what looked and sounded like Ritsu Kageyama was in reality the furthest thing from him, an impostor that replaced his dark russet eyes with stark sea blue. Ritsu did not like it one bit, oh, no no no.

“Whoa,” Shou breathed in awe. He gripped the sides of the mirror, tilting his head every which way while taking in the reflection. “This is dope! This…is a bit creepy, not gonna lie, but it could work, you could make it work! Fluff up your hair a bit, get rid of the haunting sleepless gaze, give ‘em a smile—just play it like I would! Oh, pshh. Forgot!” He cocked his head to a three-quarter view, shooting a half-smirk and wink at himself. “That won’t be hard.”

Ritsu wanted to die. His image, being perverted so. The embarrassment was unprecedented, and the fact that he physically could not look away and hide from the world made it that much worse. At least that meant his face wouldn’t show the disturbed blush. Don’t act like it’ll stay that way, he whined. It’ll go back to normal when you’re gone.

His hand held up a finger. Still talking to the reflection, Shou asked, “What if I’m not in control? Still blue?”

Ritsu would have scrunched up his nose if he still could. Damn him and his good questions.

“Now how do I do that…?” his voice muttered. His hands dropped to the sink as he finally looked away, drumming his fingers on the porcelain. “What if…I dissociate, but not project…?” He closed those foreign eyes and repeated it under his breath, slowing his tapping.

The fog seemed to clear from Ritsu's head, loosening the chill he was in, until it rushed back through his palms—the cold porcelain underhand. He was also immediately reminded that his chest had weight from the beating heart and lungs just beginning to tighten and burn without air. He took a breath, curling his toes and taking stock of everything else. Everything back under his control.

He still didn’t feel completely himself, but it was worlds better than before, when his feet were too numb to even feel grounded.

Relishing the feeling of just being able to feel his breathing again, Ritsu glanced up into the mirror. He grimaced, an action meant to distract him from the knot in his stomach. Still blue.

“I really don’t like these eyes,” he said. His voice sounded better in his cadence. “They’re...too bright.”

Nah, bro, yours are just too dark. The idea bloomed in his head, like he had imagined Shou’s voice, except that it kept going without his permission: At least now you don’t look like a zombie.

“I don’t look like a zombie,” he muttered before narrowing his eyes at his reflection. He just realized he was having a conversation with himself. Technically schizophrenia. What a day.

Ya totally do, dude, you barely sleep some days. Yo, use your powers on something!

“Hm?” Ritsu raised an eyebrow at the mirror. Right, they were testing their powers like this. He noticed the hand towel on the wall behind him and directed his focus at it. The familiar light tingle of his powers prickled his skin as his turquoise aura appeared around it, darting it around him to float over the sink. “It looks the same. Same color, same texture.”

And coming in for the pass—! His breath caught for a mere moment as the ground was snatched from under him, dropped into a dunk tank of ice water after a successful throw. His aura splashed around the towel before swirling into a glittering citrine. His fists punched the air. “Fuck yeah!”

I’m gonna be sick.

“Don’t be dramatic; not while I’m driving, you’re not.”

Ritsu groaned and dragged his hands down his face. Neither of those things actually happened.

Shou laughed, his current voice rising to the point where it could almost be called a giggle. “No, no, I get it, it’s weird as shit, but come on! It’s so rad!” The towel darted around the small room at his behest, the bright orange aura highlighting its path like a comet. “Like, I dunno if you can feel it, but my powers don’t have the same oomf to them. Your body might not have enough juice to keep ‘em running like I’m used to.”

Well, sorry we can’t all be hotshot prodigies. Ritsu skipped being offended and instead watched the towel spin in a tight circle—not like he had any choice in where his eyes went. Just in the top right of his periphery, he could still make out a bit of his reflection in the mirror. It was out of focus, but it was still enough to notice his too-light eyes. Think my powers can add to yours? he asked, bringing up one of Shou’s earlier inquiries to change the subject.

“Give it a shot, bro.”

He focused on the towel and its path, trying to help push it along, to speed it up. After a moment, he was unsure if his powers were even working, his hands too far from his senses to tell if his palms were tingling. Then something slotted into place in his head and the towel kicked into double time, instantly spinning so fast it twisted and knotted itself into a plush wad. Aquamarine swirled among the amber aura, making...an uncomfortable color, actually; blue and orange mixed together like that was rather unappealing to look at.

“Sweet!” The grin Shou had pulled onto Ritsu’s face only grew. His face was starting to get sore. “Now try the other way! I’ll throw it left, you go right, yeah?”

What, oppose each other?

“Yeah! Psychic arm wrestling! ‘Kay, in three, two, one—”

The towel ignited.

Shou beamed like a kid on Christmas. He threw his arms up fast enough to bounce his heels off the floor. “Fuck yeah! Now it’s a party!”

Out of sheer panic and adrenaline, Ritsu snatched hold of his hands, throwing them at the towel, encasing it in a bubble of energy. His breathing was quick (hey, he was breathing) as he watched the flame flicker and reflect off his aura for a few seconds before it suffocated and snuffed out. He blinked (hey!) and tried to slow his hyperventilation, gripping his shirt in an attempt to dampen the thumping of his racing heart. The towel fell into the sink, the faintest bit of smoke pluming from its singed corner. “Who the fuck did that?” he asked, a slight strain to his voice he failed to wrangle. “Because it wasn't me!”

Not me!

“Uh-huh.” Ritsu glared into the mirror, fully accusing those eyes. “Sorry, but I've come not to trust you with fire.”

Honest, man, I didn't mean to do it! Our fusion powers are probably just different now, unpredictable! Guess we just gotta get out there and practice: bend a lot of spoons or some shit, maybe go teach some thugs a lesson, go lift some rocks in Dagobah—

“Hang on, fusion? You gave it a name already?!” Ritsu twisted the tap on for a half second to douse the towel before dropping it in the trash. “Nuh-uh, that's enough. We're not going out getting into fights, not when it's my body on the line.”

Fine, we can use mine next time.

“Next time?!” Ritsu’s fuming as a defense mechanism was made even more frustrating by not having a target to direct his reproval at; blaming his reflection was just too strange. “Wha— Why— How could you—!”

The door clicked open behind him. He spun around, startled and already trying to come up with explanations, excuses. He was able to open his mouth before he was pushed out of control again, his excuses contained within his head.

Shigeo raised his eyebrows, standing in the doorway. “Oh. Hi, Suzuki.”

The grin was back on his face. Shou shifted his weight to one leg and waved a hand. “Yo, lil’ bro! What’s up?”

“I was going to ask Ritsu a question and noticed something seemed off upstairs.”

Ritsu was thanking any power up there that Shigeo was taking this so well. By this point, it shouldn’t be surprising, but still. Shou hummed. “A disturbance in the force, you say….”

“I didn’t say that—”

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just guys bein’ dudes, hangin’ out.”

Shigeo paused for a beat. “Why are you in my brother?”

“Just messing around, testing out some powers. Hey, you wanna be Ritsu, too? It’s fun!”

Shou, don’t just say shit like that, Ritsu protested, uncomfortable. What was he, a sampler plate?

Shigeo’s brief hesitation didn’t help his unease. “No,” he eventually answered. His expression changed, ever so slightly, so much so he doubted Shou caught it. “No, I’ve had my share of possession, I think. I’ll keep to myself.”

Ritsu’s stomach would’ve dropped if it could. What the fuck does that mean??

Turns out Shou didn’t catch it. He whistled and lightly jabbed Shigeo’s shoulder with his elbow, asking, “What’s that, a rebellious streak? Moonlighting as a spirit? Spy missions?”

Shigeo ignored him, his composure already back to normal. “Is Ritsu in there, too?”

“Mm-hm.” Shou gave him a brisk nod before pushing Ritsu to the front, all his numbed senses switching on at once. He blinked to catch his bearings before opening his mouth to actually voice his concerns over that cryptic statement. He stopped himself, though, realizing Shigeo wouldn’t answer in this situation. He’d save it for later. “Yeah,” he said instead, “I’m here.”

“Mom wants to know if Suzuki is staying for dinner.”

Ritsu smiled—a normal, content smile, not one of Shou’s manic grins. “You could’ve just asked him, you know.”

“I guess, but you’re the host, so it seemed polite to ask you.”

Despite the last half hour’s whirlpool of emotions, he couldn’t help but snicker at his brother’s word choice. “I don’t know, are you staying— Hell yeah, I am!” Shou jumped in. The last thing Ritsu clearly felt was nearly biting his tongue.

“Okay.” Shigeo watched them for a moment. “You know, Ritsu, your eyes are blue now.”

“Yeah! It’s cool, right? Ritsu doesn’t like ‘em, but I think it makes him look less tired.”

He considered it. “A little.”

What do you want from me? Ritsu muttered, as well as he could in his head. Should I start wearing contacts now?

From downstairs, he heard his mom call something; he wasn’t paying enough attention to hear what. Shigeo stepped out into the hallway and called back, “Suzuki would like to stay for dinner.”

“How is he, anyway?” she asked, probably from the base of the stairs. “He’s quieter than usual.”

“He’s just possessing Ritsu for a bit.”

“Well, tell him that while I don’t mind one less mouth to feed, he should stop soon and come down himself. Growing boys need to eat.”

Ritsu wanted to hold his face in his hands. Why is my family like this.

Shigeo turned to relay the info, but Shou waved him off, saying, “No worries, I’ll leave in a sec.” Shigeo nodded and left.

“Yo. Bro.” Shou spun back to the mirror, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. It was the look he had when he was planning to get into trouble. “Next time? We gotta go flying. With our powers combined, we could go. So fast. As long as we don’t spontaneously combust, but hey, everyone needs a bit of practice!”

Damn it. Pushed into being a passenger in his head, possessed like it was the god damn Exorcist, and here he was, being tempted by power. Again. They did seem stronger together, and Shou had a wider variety of psychic talents than him. It could be beneficial to learn from him like this. Maybe it would even be—dare he think it—fun, doing things he wouldn’t normally be able to. The blue eyes still creeped him out, though. That wouldn’t change. He’d still hate that.

Good thing there weren’t any mirrors a hundred feet in the air.

Fine, Ritsu huffed. But now, you’re getting out. Dinner first. Flying later.

“Fuck yeah!”

#Mob Psycho 100 #Suzuki Shou #Kageyama Ritsu #MP100 fanfiction #My writing #getting back into the swing of things with writing #finally #the season 2 hype caught me #possession #shenanigans #and the like #I've been debating titles for 24 hours now just take it #Complementary like colors like blue and orange yeah?#*tired shrug*

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occhiolismatic · 6 years

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I know that Tony didn't have the arc reactor when he met Peter but... Can you even imagine the nerd-boner it would give Pete? 😍😍 I could imagine him cumming on it even.

Of course Tony didn’t havethe arc reactor when he met Peter. Gone but not forgotten, the little glowingreactor that once protected Tony’s heart left behind scars reminiscent of atrauma-filled past, and Peter was what? 15 in civil war, which took place twoor three years after Tony underwent surgery to remove it, putting Peter at aroundthe age of 13 when it was removed? But consider modern day Tony with that shinyring, upgraded, still preventing fragments of shrapnel from reaching his heart?Although necessary for survival, after years and years of having it, Tony hatesit, wants it gone, but modern day Peter? Peter loves it. YEAH, it’s upsetting knowing Tonywould be dead without it, but that hunky piece of metal interests Peter to a T.

“Can… can I touch it?” Peterasked, his question becoming worthless, as evidenced by the pointed fingeralready dinking the metal in Tony’s chest. “Woah- Mr. Stark-”

Tony reached out, large handstaking hold of Peter’s, engulfing them into his own, one on the bottom, theother on the top. “Yes, Peter, it’s shiny. I am more than fully aware.”

Tony lay sprawled with Peter stashed between his legs, the boy’slittle butt peaking in the air as he nuzzled himself further against Tony’storso, obviously to get a closer look at the intriguing invention keeping Mr.Stark alive, obviously. It hadn’t been sexual, not at all. Justmoments ago they were laying, cuddling in each other’s arms to the sound of amovie in the background, food and drinks littering the room, and Peter had evenbegun to doze off, his cheek resting against Tony’s side, dangerously close tothe softly purring ring wrapped around the other man’s heart. He would havepassed out, gone to sleep right with Tony, the man slowly diving into a dreamalongside Peter as well, but once the teenager noticed the faint blue lightunderneath one layer of cloth and connected the dots, he realized he had yet tosee the reactor in person. The older man was always clothed during sex, wearinga suit or something that covered the reactor, that or he had Peter so whipped,had fucked him too much for the boy’s own good, the kid had probably seen thereactor before, kissed it too, but he couldn’t remember, not with the circuitlooping against his ear. He wanted to run his fingers over the cold metal, grazethe sides where it met Tony’s skin. So he asked. He sat up, removed theblankets from their bodies, the heat automatically dispersing, and rolled intothe other’s lap: “Mr. Stark, can I see the arc reactor?

Certainly not about to turn down the sparkle twinkling inPeter’s eyes, Tony agreed, sitting up to angle his body more forward. Peter,almost like an impatient little puppy, sprung at Tony’s chest, lifting theshirt covering the other’s sternum, pulling it up to meet Tony’s neck where theolder man took hold of it, biting into the cloth with his teeth so he couldforce the blankets down at his waist. Face illuminating with blue, Peterstared, doe-eyed and soft, one hand still gripping onto Tony’s shirt even whenhe knew the other had it handled, and he didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t abad thing, it was just.. amazing? Spectacular? A work of art? “It’s so pretty,”Peter began, mind running a thousand miles a minute.

“Could say the same aboutyou,” Tony added, dropping the shirt back to his collarbones with a pat. Peter, too awestruck to pick up on the compliment, might’veblushed, the red in his cheeks overtaking the teal basking his skin. So yeah, there they were. Peter prodded the reactor with a sharp fingertip, tapping the metalonce and then twice to listen to the sounds vibrating, bouncing back into hisear, and Tony, peering down at Peter’s tiny fingers, let him.

Peter knew all the facts, the magnets, the vibranium, it’scapabilities, the energy it housed. “Mr. Stark, I gotta say, I knew it wasstunning, but..” He looked up at Tony with careful, aureate eyes, even exchangedsmiles, Tony telling him it was okay. “Mr. Stark, you’re so smart. I don’tunderstand-”

“You don’t have to understand-”

“Just, like.. woah you made this, you know? It’s so fetchingand sleek,” he let out a gasp when Tony playfully ruffled the boy’s hair. It wasn’t enough to break his attention from the fine details of the reactor though. “It’s.. comparatively one of the most intricate pieces of technology I’ve ever laideyes on, and you… you? made this, and it’s keeping you alive, and you wouldn’tbe here without it and it’s just..” He poked it again, thrusting his facecloser to its epicenter, squinting to narrow his gaze up and under each tinycrevasse.

Tony smiled, “It’s also a bomb, Pete. Weaponized correctly,and you’re touching an explosive, one that many would love to have their handson. You’re just lucky, now aren’t you? Fortunate, some would say.”

Peter swallowed, leaning away from Tony’s torso with aknuckle in his mouth.

“You’re hard, aren’t you?” Tony casually said, arms limp athis sides with Peter slightly nodding in embarrassment.

“It’s just! It’s so pretty, and you’re so attractive andintelligent and I couldn’t.. I couldn’t just stop myself, not when your fancyarc reactor is engraved and polished and-”

“And you’re sitting on my lap?” Tony blinked, faceemotionless yet entertained. “Is that it?”

Peter scoffed, crossing his arms, finding it almostunbearable not to gape open-mouthed at Tony’s carved chest, the tiny,superconductor sculped perfectly for him, “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, baby, it’s cute that yougot a nerd-boner,” he teased.

Tony’s language, while stirring up the fascination burningin Peter’s shorts, forced the boy’s fingers further into his own mouth, deeper,harder, much like the bulge now pressing against Tony’s thigh; Peter’s hardon.After a moment’s hesitation and a gentle murmur of encouragement, Tony guidedPeter’s shrill fingers away from the reactor and to the boy’s pants, giving himthe ultimate “go to” to touch himself, right there on top of Tony where the mancan see Peter in all his glory, and Peter, raising his knees from the bed toslip off his clothing, to discard it to the floor, tossed away for tomorrow morning,wasn’t going to reject the offer. Once bare from the waist down, it was allover. Tony threw his hands behind his head, arms bent at the elbows, and satback watching his baby boy jack off on top of him, the reactor in his chesthoming Peter’s eyes like glue, and Peter touched himself all over, easing thestress in his groin, leaning forward with lustful, plumps lips pulled betweenhis canines. Peter did the work getting himself off, stroking away from hisbody towards Tony, flicking his wrist in heavy, unorganized motions, sliding aloose finger into the slit of his head while kneading the bed with his toes,and Tony carried the foolish sentiments, purring words of praise but also ofdegradation as he tells the kid where to touch himself.

“Underneath, baby boy, daddy knows where his little bratlikes it, there you go, just like that.” And Peter listens, too enticed bythe blue smolder cast upon his dick, incandescent and pretty, to do anythingelse but massage his perfect little cocklet.

Peter might try to babble about how incredibly smart Tonyis, talk about the unimaginable and how he can’t even begin to fathom how Tonydrew up the reactor’s design, but he wouldn’t be able to. He can’t talk whendaringly sweet pants heave and fight for release through Peter’s mouth, drawingin and out of his lips with each brush of fingers against his hard dick,seemingly choking himself because goddamn, Peter’s never seen anything morealluring than Tony with the reactor, smirking up at him, accompanied with an egofueled by pride and possessiveness.

And when he cums, when he can’t take theweight in his belly any more, he’ll let go, go completely wild with animalisticmoans, jerking his hips forward, lips wet and eyes glassy; splatter the reactorand Tony’s chest with sticky, white streaks, spattering the vibranium, his cumdripping off the sides, sinking into the sealed cracks, even going as far as toreach Tony’s face, lightly shooting himself onto his cheek or just barelygracing his curled, smug-drenched lips.

#starker #tony stark #peter parker #tony x peter #peter x tony #thank you nonnie #bc I’d probably do the same as Peter

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