#So as far as I can tell it slides around on the scale on romantic and platonic. Which works for this dynamic. I think.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

Warning: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader relationship.

Summary: After freeing the widows from chemical subjugation and destroying the red room, you and Yelena finally settle down.

Part 1 & Part 2

The widows welcome you, the ones you trained with and the ones you didn’t. After Dreykov was gone and you had nothing but time. Melina and Alexei go to work on replicating the antidote. Creating enough to free all chemically subjugated agents.

It’ll take time. But the more you free the more are willing to help. Some of the widows just leave once they are given freedom. Ready to wash their hands of all of this and start living. You understand that more than anything. Eventually the operation is running on such a large scale they hardly need you at all.

Natasha hasn’t reached out since you separated after the red room. Probably off with the Avengers trying to save the world again. No one blames her, for her inability to be still. Not even Yelena.

“So,” you plop down on the couch beside Yelena. “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know.” She admits, staring up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far.”

“Yeah.” You tug at a loose strand of her dirty blonde hair. “That makes two of us.”

“We could pretend to be normal.” Yelena offers. “What would a normal person do?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “I’ve never been one.”

“Maybe...settle down.” Yelena’s eyes are far away.

“Would you have wanted to-“ You break off, trying to sort out the words. “I mean if you could…would you have a baby?”

She raises her brows, “I never thought about it.” A long pause. “I wouldn’t know how to be a mother.”

Neither would you. You’ll never be right. Whatever that is, was, or might have been. Always a little too guarded and rough around the edges. “You never waste time thinking about things you can’t have.” You sink farther into the cushions, her pinky skates over your own. Taking the invitation you twine your fingers together.

“I thought about you.” She lowers her eyes to the coffee table. “Everyday. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I-“

“The red room took that from me too.”

You shake your head at her. “They can never take anything from you or anyone else ever again,” you whisper. “And to be clear you can have me.”

A laugh rumbles out of her chest at the news. “I can?”

“I mean if you still want me.” You tease, “I know that the chase is half the fun for you. So I can keep on running. I’m one foot out the door-“

“I am tired of running.” Yelena murmurs, curling up against your side.

“Me too.” Your chin rests atop her head.

“Then stop doing it!” She scolds, slapping your arm playfully in retaliation.

“I will if you will.” You know why she runs. The same reason you do. Because you’re afraid. That maybe some parts of you are too broken to love.

She mulls it over for a moment. “Truce. I don’t run. You don’t run.”

“Deal.” You give her fingers a squeeze.

“Except into the face of danger.” She clarifies, only half kidding. “Then we run, straight ahead.” Yelena motions with her free hand. “But together.”

“Together.” You agree, with a soft smile.

“We could get a dog.” The tone of her voice tells you that she is invested in the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind a dog.” You prop your feet up on the coffee table.

Yelena hates anything but a straight answer. Still feeling the need to convince you, she presents the facts. “Dogs are really cool! They have special powers.”

You chuckle, “dogs do not have powers.”

“Yes!” Yelena argues, “they can predict natural disasters and judge character.”

“That’s a special power?” You quip, “I can do that too.”

She grumbles under her breath.

“I want one.” You sigh. Feeling all the tension leave her body.

“I knew you did.” She smiles, contently.

———————————————————————

Dogs might have powers, but the only thing your puppy currently seems to posses is the ability to chew up anything in her path.

“Yelena have you seen my-“ you pause, taking in the scene before you, “shoes.”

“Don’t be angry,” Yelena holds up a hand.

The tiny puppy beside her squeaks, not quite a bark yet. Your demolished sneaker tumbling to the ground.

“What happened?” You run both hands over your face.

She sweeps the dog into her arms. “I told Fanny we could go for a walk once you got out of the shower. She was excited, Y/N! She was trying to bring your shoes to you. But she got distracted, only a little.”

“A little?” You can’t help but smile.

“Look at this face,” Yelena waves Fanny’s paw at you. “You can’t be mad at this face. Tell her girl. Say, you can’t be mad at me Mom, I’m trying my best.” She brings the dog closer.

You raise a hand to pet Fanny lightly. Yelena’s right of course, there is no being mad at that face. “Let me find a pair of shoes that isn’t mangled. Then we’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll wait with Fanny.”

“Of course you will.” You retreat to your bedroom. Rummaging through the closet in search of some sort of footwear. You’d settle for slippers at this point. Fanny joins you after a moment. Nuzzling at your ankle as she whines.

It’s not everyday that she follows you, she is Yelena’s dog and never lets you forget it. “You’re really excited aren’t you?” More whining. You scoop Fanny up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You huff, finally locating a pair of sandals. Slipping them on quickly so you can return to Yelena and gloat about being Fanny’s favorite. “Hey baby, I don’t know what you did, but look.” You smile, gazing up as you present the dog…to an empty room. That’s odd. Maybe she’s waiting outside.

You grab the leash Yelena abandoned on the countertop, securing it to Fanny’s collar. “Come on girl. Let’s go find Mama. Where’s Mama?”

Fanny follows you out the door, onto the walkway.

“Yelena?”

Nothing.

You scan the area, no sign of her. “Ok…” Back into the house, you check the bathroom next.

“Yelena!” You shout, knowing you’ll feel stupid once she replies. But she doesn’t.

A buzzing from the cell phone in your back pocket draws your attention. You set Fanny down gently, accepting the call and moving the device up to your ear. “Alexei?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god!” His voice booms through the speaker.

“Are you ok?” You ask immediately. Leaning down to grab the television remote, turning to channel thirteen, still broadcasting it’s usual gameshow.

“I am alone.” He cries through the speaker. “Melina left me with her pigs.”

“What do you mean she left you?” Something is very wrong.

“She disappeared.” He says somberly, “didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” The dramatic monologue continues. “I give her back rub every night and then-“

“No,” you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Under no circumstance is he going to tell you what happens next.

“I have made mistakes, but this! This is cruel.” Alexei, clearly distraught begins cursing in Russian.

“Alexei, I know you’re upset but I need you to listen.”

“What?” He asks. “What is it?”

“Yelena is gone too.” You inform him. Your eyes flicker over the words at the bottom of your tv screen. “People disappeared all over the world.”

You fall back onto the couch, feeling all the air leave your lungs.

More hysteria on the other end of the line. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m gonna find Natasha. Maybe she knows something.” Assuming that Natasha is still here.

“What about me?”

“Come to Ohio. You can dog sit.” You offer, familiar numbness seeps into your limbs.

“I have nine pigs!” Alexei shouts back.

“We have a backyard, don’t worry.” You hang up before he has a chance to argue.

You return to the call screen. Scrolling to find a different contact. Pressing the dial button beside her name.

It rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello.”

“Natasha,” you let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What the hell happened?”

——————————————————————

The Avengers fortress isn’t exactly how you imagined. Not very homey.

You park your car in the lot. Removing your keys from the ignition and stowing them in your back pocket. The clear rectangular keychain with a picture of you and Yelena inside sticks out. Clinking when you round the vehicle to retrieve Fanny from the passenger seat. “Come on, Fanny.”

She wags her tail, waiting expectantly to be carried.

“You’re spoiled, you know.” You sigh, taking the puppy into your arms and closing the door behind you.

The front gate is open but Natasha takes a moment to locate. She cut her hair up to her shoulders, dyed it blonde. “Hello stranger.”

“You got a dog.” She says, in greeting.

“Yeah.” You reply, not in the mood for small talk. “It was Yelena’s idea.”

“I knew she’d sucker you into that.”

“It’s not like she could make me do anything I didn’t want to.” Your finger slides along the edge of the metal table Natasha’s seated behind.

She barks a laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Maybe so. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Still cool. I like the hair too,” you motion toward her blonde locks.

“That’s not really mine either, is it?” She remarks.

“Is anything ever really ours?”

“No.” She frowns. “I guess not.”

“What happened?” You ask again.

“It’s a long story,” Nat crosses both arms over her chest. “You might want to take a seat.”

You clear your throat, pulling out the chair beside her. Fanny curls up in your lap, curious eyes darting about every now and then. You tell yourself it’s because she’s in a new place, but part of you knows, she’s looking for Yelena.

Natasha stares down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of infinity stones?”

You shake your head. “Must be an avenger thing.”

“There were six of them, scattered all over the galaxy. If a person has all six they can use them in anyway they choose. Thanos, used them to eliminate half of all living creatures.”

“Are you the only one left?” You lean in.

“No.” She sniffs, blinking away tears. “There’s others.”

“So where are they?” The place looks abandoned. “Why aren’t you charging into battle?”

“Because we lost. Probably the worst we’ve ever lost.” Natasha clenches her jaw. “By the time we found Thanos again he already destroyed the stones.”

“We’ll try again.” You decide immediately. This isn’t over.

“Will we?” Natasha shakes her head with a smirk.

“If she was gone for good I would know it.” You tell her truthfully. “I would feel it, in my heart and I don’t.”

“You didn’t see it happen. I saw him snap his fingers and-“

You lay your hand over hers, squeezing tight.

“Did you see her go?” She asks, voice just above a whisper. “Yelena. Did you see her?”

“No.” You confess, “I didn’t see.”

Natasha closes her eyes. “That’s why you still have hope.”

“Look maybe you’re right.” You shrug, “even so, now seems like a really stupid time to give up.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Fanny.” You inform her.

“Come on.” She rolls her blue eyes. “You’re kidding right? Tell me you didn’t actually name a dog after one of those stupid aliases Rick made me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“I guess a dog’s better than a pig.” Natasha reasons. “Are they still here?”

“Not Melina.” You break the news quickly. Like tearing off a bandage. “But Alexei and all nine of her pigs are on their way to our house in Ohio.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Always room for one more.”

——————————————————————

You stay like that for a long time. Hopeful. Sure that this was all some nightmare that you could wake up from; fight your way out of.

And then five years passed.

Now you come to see Natasha twice a month, just to check in. Alexei and his pigs have taken up permanent residency in the home you bought with Yelena. As for you, you bounce around. Never staying in one place too long.

“Any news?” You wonder, leaning against the doorframe of Natasha’s meeting room.

“No.” She bites out. Kicking her foot up on the desk. “You should move on.”

“Is that what you call this?” You flick your wrist in her direction. “Crying into a peanut butter sandwich.”

“It’s therapeutic.” She waves the bread at you. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

“Nah.” You take a seat, reaching across to make a sandwich of your own. “It’s not the sandwich’s fault.”

“Am I interrupting the pity party?” Steve says, announcing his presence. Captain America is as self righteous as ever.

“Didn’t you grieve for a century over a girl you kissed one time?” You arch a brow at him, licking wayward peanut butter from the pad of your thumb. “Five years is just a drop in the bucket.”

Steve purses his lips, you have a point. “It wasn’t a century.”

“Close enough.” You mumble around a mouthful of your dinner.

“Want a bite?” Natasha offers half of her sandwich to him.

“No thanks.” He takes a step closer. “I’d offer to make you a real dinner, but already look pretty miserable. Where’s your dog?”

“Visiting her granddad.” Everyone and their mother loves that damn dog.

“Oh yeah, my great adversary.” How could he ever forget. “Is he still wearing that stupid suit?”

“I’m pretty sure the suits are stowed away. But it’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Your mind wanders to the vest. The one Natasha returned to you after Yelena was gone. The one you retired because it doesn’t smell like her anymore. Nothing does.

Most things remain untouched in the Ohio house. Your pictures. Your memories. Your plans. You can’t get rid of them. Can’t stomach being around them either.

Someone, a man, alerts the security cameras, pounding on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home? Hello! Can you hear me?”

“How old is this video?” Steve asks, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s the front gate.” Natasha breathes, enlarging the image.

“Do we know him?” You squint at the man in question.

“It’s me, Scott Lang, Antman. I met you guys at the airport in Germany a few years ago. I had a mask on, you probably wouldn’t recognize me.” He rambles on.

Natasha presses the access panel, opening the gate.

You straighten yourselves out, before he makes it down the long hallway into the common room.

Scott paces, a lot. Nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Scott.” Steve finally cut in. “Are you ok?”

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ok. Alright so, five years ago. Right before Thanos. I was in the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like it’s own little microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my uh-“ he trails off. “She was my…she was- she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“I’m sorry that must have been a long five years.” Natasha apologies.

“That’s the thing, for me it wasn’t.” Scott replies. “It was five hours.”

“What a trip.” You snort, absently toying with your belt loop.

“The rules of time are different there. See everything is unpredictable.” He explains, getting distracted by the food in your hand. “Are you gonna finish that?”

“I guess not.” You hold it out to him.

He accepts, gratefully stuffing the bread into his mouth.

“Scott! What are you talking about?” Steve demands.

“So what I’m saying is time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But if we did, if we could somehow control the chaos; to enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time and exit at another point in time…like,” Scott locks eyes with you then. “Like before Thanos.”

You nod.

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Steve sighs, running a hand over his tense forehead.

“No. No of course not. Not like a time machine but like a…yeah.” There’s no other word for it. “Like a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it! There gotta be some way.”

“Scott,” Natasha calls his attention. “I get emails from a raccoon. So nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“So who do we talk to about this?” His eyes flicker between the three of you.

“Don’t look at me.” You hold both hands up. “That’s way above my pay grade.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @3and30aresoultwins

#yelena belova x reader #marvel fanfiction #yelena belova #black widow #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova imagine

[oneprompt]

Hi! Can you do a Brook x F! Reader, with a jealous Brook because she likes to spend a lot of time with Usopp and Franky because she's a scientist?

I hope that it makes sense, I can't speak and write english very well but I still try to learn it. I love your posts!! <3

authors note: hello <3 aw , thank you for all the love ! xoxo , and your english is amazing .. keep doing Your best <33 anywho , please enjoy ^^ xoxo

Jealous! Brook x F! Reader

“Y/n-san~! I-“ Brook happily walked into your room before stopping, taken aback by how empty it was. Where had you run off to? I mean, you were often busy and Brook respected that, of course! But you had promised to let Brook perform a new song for you… Had you forgotten, perhaps? He couldn’t help but frown. Ah, well…! I suppose he could search for you. After all, he composed this new tune just for you.

Brook wandered almost aimlessly around The Sunny, humming melodies in his lonesomeness. The Sunny was full of life as always, the loud rumble of laughs and shouting filling the ship deck. It had everybody! Well, almost. The crew was missing Usopp, Franky and…. You! That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. Even as Brook was still rather new to the crew, he was quick to catch on to the closeness you shared with the two men. One could assume it was only out of mutual skills but according to the other shipmates it was more then that.

 Brook couldn’t help but rattle that thought around the hollow cave of his skull. More as in what? Friends? Ah, yes! Had to be, right? Or perhaps... Gasp! Were you... involved with them? Not one...but both? Kya! Brook would be red in the face... if only he had one! The thought of you being romantic with either of them was odd... It was rather lovely to fantasize about you in certain situations but Brook’s heart outweighed his perversion. Boy, it sure did.

Was it because they had beating hearts? Brook got insecure over himself more then one would like to admit. But can you blame him? After being alone for decade after decade, he got awfully attached to his new crew, especially you. 

You were one of the few that didn’t shy away from him within the beginning. The way you gazed at Brook with genuine interest through the fog of Thriller Bark made it impossible for his dim soul to blossom outward, reconnecting to the clutches of love. Even if those looks you gave him were only from a scientific stand point, they still meant the very most to him. Part of him could only hope you had sincere adorition behind your beautiful eyes. 

Brook slithered his way away from the deck, not wanting to be roped into any shenanigans. Not that it didn’t sound fun! Trust me, this man was frowning as he had to turn his back on his eager captain. But Brook was on a mission, a mission of… love? Ah, yes! One of love, certainly! Not that you’d be able to know once he did find you. It was a mission of love to Brook and him alone. He was content with you being unknowing of his love. The probability of you viewing him in the same manner was low. So painfully low.

What did a skeleton have to offer a woman? An alive human woman? Its not like Brook could quickly woo you, not at all. You were always surrounded by handsome men, kind ones as well! A sweet soul was what was most important in a being, right? Brook wanted to believe you would hear him out, that you potentially could look past his eccentric appearance but alas, he could not. You probably just viewed him as a pervert, didn’t you? That would be no good…

It didn’t take long for Brook to reach the workshop, simply looming against the door frame, peering to see what you three were up to. Usopp had his tongue sticking out in concentration, tinkering with a new baton for Nami, perhaps. And Franky was in his full exhibitionist glory, preparing a few mishaps he had upon his wide arms. Perhaps you didnt mind perverts, if you felt comfortable enough to be around a half naked man 24/7! Oh, Brook could only hope.

And there you were, in your constant glimmer of beauty. Even with your hair tangled in a ponytail, goggles on, you looked absolutely enchanting. Like a princess.

“Y/n-san,” Brook said happily as he strided right on into the room. He eagerly awaited your reply, only to be met with nothing. You just didn’t hear him, right? You weren’t ignoring him, were you? Or maybe… you learnt of his feelings! Gasp! Brook’s heart would shatter into two… if only he had one! He couldn’t help but frown as he repeated himself.

And finally, your eyes landed upon the musician. You gave him such a cute smile, one that made Brook nearly squeal out loud. You pushed the safety goggles up from your eyes, showing the skeleton the rest of your face. No, you weren’t a princess… A goddess! You were a goddess! “Hey, Brook.” You hummed, setting aside your equipment. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, giving Brook that smile. That smile that made him feel far too full of love… too cute!

Franky and Usopp shared knowing glances, a huge and cheeky grin pinned on the cyborgs face. Franky wasn’t born yesterday, he can tell what it means to crush and he could definitely tell for the love you and Brook shared for each other. Now, Franky may be an eccentric but the man is smart! Socially, that is...

“Oh-! Why, I just finished a new song a while ago and figured Y/n-san would want to be the first to hear it,” the older man chimed, tipping his top hat ever so slightly. You looked up at Brook, processing his words. The way your face went red in shame was too quick for the musician to process.

“Damn..! Sorry, I totally forgot I was supposed to meet you in my room… I just had a—“ You were quickly cut off by a booming laugh. “I got it, Y/n! Go have a suuuper time with your man!” Franky couldn’t help but snicker as he said such a thing so loudly, more then fully exposing the things you had told him in private about the other man. Your already blushing face was further consumed by an embarrassed flush. Damn it, why did that moron have to say that?

Brook stood there dumbfounded at Franky’s words. Her man? Y/n’s man? Is- is that how everybody saw the two of you? Perhaps there was hope for Brook and his everlasting love for you. Was Franky merely pulling your leg or did you share the affections that Brook felt for you? Brook followed you outward of the workshop, taking further action in the blush that your cheeks carried. You were so cute, so fascinating. He was a sucker for your reactions and expressions. No matter what, Brook found you endearing. Even as you scolded him for his pervy nature or your face crinkled in the most unappealing way as you cried, Brook would always find you to be beautiful. You were the embodiment of grace.

“I don’t mind if you think of me that way, Y/n,” Brook spoke up, his usual emthused tone hushed. “I’d be blushing…. That is, if I had a face.” Ugh, of course he had to slide in a pun… he couldn’t help himself, could he?

Even as Brook said such a crappy joke, your blush didn’t cease. Not in the slightest, no. You fidgeted anxiously, subtly rocking back and fourth on your heels.

“Is— is that so?” you murmured, doing your upmost best to seem composed, keeping your emotions under wraps. Your flustered state worsened as purely bone digits dropped upon your shoulders, scaling upon the creases of your shirt. “Of course, Y/n, my sweet.” The skeleton hummed joyously. “Now, how about I go play my new song for you?”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece imagines #one piece reader inserts #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #brook #soul king brook #brook one piece #brook x reader #soul king brook x reader #brook x you #brook x y/n #cute #fluff #fanfic #reader insert

[peralta-guaranteed]

Hey! I have a fic/HC request - it's a bit specific - jake and Amy are on a date and they see a guy who went to the academy with Jake and worked with Amy at the 64 and when amy goes to the washroom he tries to make fun of her/says creepy stuff about het in front of Jake and he gets all angry and protective

“Gotta say I’m surprised.”

“About what?”

“That you got Santiago.”

Jake stares at Daniels over the rim of his beer glass. There’s a million instincts shouting in his brain, mixing into a little symphony. To tell him to fuck off, basically. Tell him he worked hard to ‘get the girl’, and continues to work hard to keep her. Tell him that whatever he’s got in his head about their relationship is probably far stranger than whatever he’s-

“Whyyyy~?” Is unfortunately all he manages to squeeze out inbetween anger, confusion and a bit of shock. It seems to be enough for Daniels, who guffaws.

“Well, no offense, Jakey, but you’ve been a detective for what, eight years now?”

“Eight and a half.”

“Amy Santiago needs more than a detective to keep her career floating.”

It had started out as a frankly lovely evening. It wasn’t date night, per se - just a random evening where they’d both found themselves out of the precinct earlier than expected, and Jake had spun Amy round on her heels once while holding her hand, grinning and asking if he could ‘take a lady for a drink’. (He was well aware that he did corny-romantic the best, and it usually worked with Amy. Like it did that night, making her giggle and roll her eyes and lead him down the streets to Shaw’s anyway.)

“I mean, that’s all she was about back at the 64. Going up the ladder. Nice girl, but jesus, her constant work chatter really pushed down her ratings.”

“Ratings.”

“Yeah.” Daniels grins and Jake tries not to think about punching those teeth out. “You remember from the academy, yeah? We set them all up during darts night. Much better than the 0-10 scale.”

“I never went to darts night.”

“Oh right.” Daniels sips on his beer. “You were always hanging out with that Rose biker chick.”

“Detective Diaz.”

And since it wasn’t established date night, and they were only having a beer each before they’d probably head home, it didn’t feel all that wrong to invite an old academy pal to their table when he bumped into him ordering at the bar. If it had been anyone from the 99, Amy would’ve probably done the same, and Jake was a bit too busy introducing him and laughing about the fact that they actually knew each other from Amy’s old precinct to notice her raised hackles.

“Diaz, sure, sure. Gotta tell you, if she wasn’t such a hardass bitch, she’d be a straight A.”

“Oh good, a letter rating system.” Jake groans through gritted teeth.

“Your Santiago, though...” Daniels leans onto the table with a wink, and Jake imagines his face crashing into it if he slapped the elbow he’s leaning on away. “She was a whole A+ at the 64th. Until she opened her mouth, and got into that whole career shit with the captain.”

He was not too busy, however, to notice her complete silence ever since Daniels had sat down - nor his clear disinterest in changing that, talking to Jake only, slapping his shoulder and recounting those ‘good old days’ Jake didn’t really remember the same way. Not too busy, either, to notice her jumping up ‘for the bathroom’ when Daniels started on their time in the 64th, and rushing through the rest of the bar patrons like something had stung her.

Jake sees red, and tries to blink it away. Unsuccessfully.

“Amy’s ambitious, and rightly so. She’s one of the smartest detectives we’ve ever had, and she’s gonna be a sergeant, lieutenant and captain before any of us even manage to get the first test topics into our brains.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, right.” Daniels grins and winks again, and the red turns into pure fire in Jake’s eyes. “With a bit of shmoozing, those tests are a doozy, I know.”

Jake’s hand slams onto the table so hard the guys next to them look over for a second, and Daniels’ beer topples over right into his lap.

“Hey, dude, what the fuck-”

Amy’s been in the bathroom for a good 10 minutes. Daniels chatter has turned from good academy pal to annoying classmate to ‘jesus fuck, I remember this douche, Rosa used his picture as her personal darts board’. He’s been talking about ‘Santiago’ as if she hadn’t been in the same room as them only minutes ago, and his face as Jake calls her his girlfriend says more than enough.

“You know jack-shit, you stupid piece of crap.” Jake snarls, and the guys next to them quickly shuffle away. “You’ve bumbled your way into your job by being a mediocre white guy with just enough racism and sexism in his brain to appeal to the same brand of assholes in higher positions, and now you think it’s okay to spew that kind of trash to anyone with a badge. Amy and Rosa are gonna wipe the floor with douchebags like you. Without the need for shmoozing, or rating systems, or whatever else fucked up shit you’ve been using to get where you are.”

“Listen, you gotta take a joke, man-”

“It’s not a joke, and I’m not going to listen to any of your shit for a second longer. You’re gonna take your beer-stained pisspants out of this bar, and if I find out you’ve been talking like that about any of my colleagues again, or talking shit to them, I’m pretty sure either Diaz or I still have some of those ‘fun’ graduation party pictures you probably don’t remember taking.” Jake’s fist is shaking, but his face is steadfast enough to convey the message (and it’s not a lie - he does know Rosa keeps a blackmailing backlog, and he’s well aware of the academy photos in there, right next to the folder of his own fuck-up proofs that she keeps throwing at his head if he ever tries to refuse one of her demands).

Daniels mouth opens and closes a few times, like a fish trying to breathe out of water, before he sputters something that might be an insult, but gets up, so it doesn’t matter. He runs into a few other patrons as he leaves, two of which give him as clear of a stink eye as they give Jake a nod as he passes them, but he’s barely noticing them.

-*-

“....Ames?” Jake steps into the, luckily, uni-sex bathroom Shaw’s had decided on years ago, and finds only one of the stalls locked. “You okay in there?”

“S-sorry.” comes as an answer, and he knows her slightly stuffy voice after crying far too well not to recognise it even when reverberating through an empty bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I made Daniels leave.”

“...You did what?”

The stall door finally opens, and Amy’s red-rimmed eyes are looking at him almost confused as she clings to the handle.

“I told him to fuck off, basically.” Jake shrugs, but then takes a step forward, lays his hand as softly as he can on hers still gripping the doorhandle like it was a lifeline. “I’m sorry I let him barge in like that at all, and didn’t remember what a colossal jerk he actually is.”

“It’s okay.” Amy sniffs, and his hand on hers tightens. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have. Should have remembered how much he pissed me off in the academy already. And even if not, I shoulda noticed how uneasy you were with him straight away.”

“Yeah.” Amy only nods, and sniffs again before he can wipe another stray tear off her cheek. “Thanks, anyway. For getting rid of him.”

“Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum.”

“It’s good to encourage proper behaviour.” Amy tries a little grin even with a wobbly lip, and Jake answers it with a snort as she leans against him, finally letting go of the doorhandle to wrap him in a hug he gladly reciprocates.

“He wasn’t the worst of them, anyway.” She mumbles into his flannel shirt, and his arms around her shoulders grow tense.

“Alright, I’ll need a kill-list then. To hand over to Rosa.”

Amy snickers into his shoulder, but shakes her head.

“It’s okay. I don’t have to deal with them anymore. I’m at the 99 now.” She mumbles, and it sounds a little bit like she’s trying to remind herself of it, too.

“You’re with the 99 now.” Jake nods. “We take care of each other.”

Amy sniffs once more before looking up at him.

“Did we need to have this heartfelt moment in a bar bathroom?”

“Let’s go home, Ames. Before they make me pay for the beer I spilled all over the seats.”

“Wait, what?”

-*-

She’s deep asleep next to him, her hair all splayed out over the pillow since he played with it until she dozed off, her lips slightly open for that little, high, whiney noise she makes that he knows means she’s completely gone into dreamland.

He turns his phone screen’s brightness all the way down to keep her there before starting to type.

- Roger Daniels u remember him?

- what did the douche want. Do I need a new dartboard

- can we break him somehow

- why

- made Amy cry. probs for years

- gimme 2 days

Jake sends only a thumbs up before he slides down under the covers, Amy’s cold hands immediately finding their way around his waist as he shuffles closer to spread his warmth over to her side of the bed as well.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic

[tsuumu]

beautiful stranger.

oikawa x reader

a short piece in which oikawa tooru approaches you on a idyllic evening. it’s a little awkward though, since you’re trying to die.

word count: 3.3k

tw: indirect and direct implications of suicide.

your warm hands stay gripped onto the metal rails in front of you, applying enough force to watch your knuckles turn white. you find yourself doing it over and over until your fingers numb from the continued pressure. alone, you’re mulling over mundane affairs. you’d rather not be thinking about them but find this loop all too easy to fall into.

the shadow of the railing casts over a large canal, its water sifting freely, far beneath you. it laps over itself, slithers of fish break the transparent surface as they swim. some of their scales rise to kiss the sunlight in opaque relfections.

thin layers of petals scatter the ground beneath your feet that have slipped from overhead trees and continue to flutter down freely. glowers of dying sunlight seep through the shapes of them as they fall.

in this moment, autumn is alive.

it’s really lovely right now.

you’re here, all caught up in chasing that feeling of peace. safety in an open space. you have to cope with that fact that tranquility never comes easily for you.

there’s nothing that should be leaving you as deeply unsettled as you are. you’ve learnt to largely ignore feeling so overwhelmed, though it stirs and resurfaces times you wish it wouldn’t.

what’s bugging you is that you can’t quite get a grasp on your own life.

for starters, everything lacks coherent meaning. to you, there’s something constantly missing every single day. nothing purchasable, nothing attainable through hard-work and any level of perseverance. truly, it affects you so much so that even just standing here, feet glued to the very spot that is undeniably ‘lovely’, brings you nothing but unimaginable sadness.

earlier, you brushed it away as an off day but you know that’s not true. you’ve been feeling like this all the time.

it is, therefore, not at all abnormal to wonder: can a person have such thing as an off life?

you really don’t like to think about things like this too much. once you begin to muse over deep naysay you find yourself snowballing.

solutions are painfully unobtainable and it’s generally as productive as chasing pavements.

do i really enjoy being alone? or am i obsessed with the sensation loneliness brings?

“you know, if you stare long enough, you might end up wanting to jump in.”

at once, your vision snaps up, taken aback by the additional voice. you hadn’t realised that during your mindless lamenting, another person had quietly joined you by the evening canal-side.

fair skinned, dark eyed, chocolate curls brushed neatly over his features and cowlicks that bob against the light gusts of wind.

a boy offers you a smile, before shifting his feet towards the empty space to your left. you can’t seem to process him, staring at the empty spot he’d been in seconds earlier.

you’re not supposed to be here right now.

“i was totally kidding by the way.” he adds. “that was really dark, sorry.”

you’re silent in return, eyes casting back onto the running stream. the water is shallow and the fall long, so jumping in would certainly prove fatal. you know all of this too well. it’d disturb the fish who are just here to live, though, it’ll only be for a moment. they won’t know any better.

you don’t really know what to say. it’s troubling that he’s here and hearing it out loud disturbs you, like a direct call out. at no point were you prepared for any kind of conversation prior.

the two of you stand there in complete silence. it’s not particularly awkward, you just don’t know why he’s approached you so easily, talking to you like he’s known you well enough to make outlandish jokes.

asking directly for his intentions seems rude, so you’ll put up with it until he leaves.

“do you always come here?” the stranger pipes up once more, though his focus doesn’t leave the water. you breathe in deeply.

“sometimes.”

“oh, i see.”

his palms lay flat and he pushes gently off of the rails, only to fall back onto them with all his weight. he does it again, repeating the process over and over at a steady pace. you stay hunched over, keeping your distance. he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest though, clearly absorbed in his surroundings.

“it’s like a set out of a movie, this place. seems like somewhere i’d ask my girlfriend to marry me.”

your tongue rolls around in your mouth.

yes. you think. his girlfriend would most likely be thrilled-over the top-squealing if he did. that’s entirely his business.

you really don’t care to hear of other people’s romantic endeavours.

is it out of jealousy? you don’t know. maybe.

this conversation is meaningless. you wish he’d go away sooner so you could have this time to yourself.

also, jealousy is an ugly word. you hate it.

he stops his movement with a exhale of air, tilting his head back to blink up at the warm sky. the last touches daylight mingle with the oncoming darkness, creating a deep tinge of orangey-yellow.

“when’s your birthday?”

‎a petal lands on the bridge of your hand, sticking to your skin.

“do you want my social security number?” you deject.

“what? no!”

“are you sure? really, i’ll give it to you.”

“no!”

“then why are you asking for my personal information?”

‎

he falls silent for a moment, before mumbling out a small: “just wondering.”

a tinge of guilt creeps over you at his apologetic tone. you admit, your answers thus far must make you seem like a completely unapproachable asswipe. you’re not at all. you just aren’t all that sure how to make small talk with strangers when you’re trying to part with the world by dinner time.

it feels like an unexpected guest at your very lonesome party.

“it’s (insert birth month).” you fold.

he purses his lips, face contorting a little.

“i see.”

he doesn’t continue down that path after your response. the both of you return to a mutual silence, staring into the portrait scenery ahead. the stream fills the soundscape pleasantly. fallen leaves have gathered at the base of your shoes, brushing over the tip gently with the turn of the wind. you observe them quietly.

“can i ask you another question?”

he seems a tad more timid now.

he definitely thinks you’re the type to blow up and give him an earful about minding his own business, doesn’t he?

you’d never raise your voice. in general, but also because it’d break the comfort of the scenery the world has so generously given you.

“sure.”

“do you believe in soulmates?”

‎the question is a little random but not impossible to answer by any means.

“no.”

“what?”

“i said not really.”

“you said no.”

“that’s the same thing.”

“...fair enough.”

‎he exhales out, sounding a little disheartened by your curt response. perhaps to him, you were a tough nut to crack; an ambiguity for him to understand. were all people like that? you weren’t playing hard to get, in fact, you’d answered every single enquiry he has had to offer. his efforts are amusing, though.

you raise a brow at him.

“i’m sorry, was that the wrong answer?”

for a moment, he doesn’t reply, stuffing his hands into his pockets, gazing down at the head of his shoe. pivoting his ankle, he draws small circles with the tip of his foot into the ground, into the dead leaves.

“not at all.”

“your expression says otherwise.”

“um, it was just a bit bleak, i guess.”

you let your arms droop way over the railing, fingers wading through the autumn air. you’d never really taken the concepts of soulmates to heart. it was romantic bullshit put out by somebody looking for a fantasy to indulge in. out of seven billion people, there could hardly be a singular person made for you. people aren’t born for other people. if that were the case, it wouldn’t be a rose-tinted fantasy. it would be suffocating. where’s the freedom in love?

“most people always answer like you these days anyway.”

“oh, sorry.”

he looks up at you, tilting his head.

“no, don’t be.”

back to a default mute, left with nothing but the faint chitter of overhead swallows and the odd rumble of cars passing by.

“tooru.” he states, after a while.

“what?”

“tooru. my name is tooru.”

“oh, okay.”

“oikawa tooru.”

‎your fingertips have become flushed. maybe you’d pressed a little too hard on that cold surface earlier. now that all your blood has come rushing back, the tingling sensation feels foreign.

his name slips of the tongue rather easily, don’t you think?

“nice to meet you, oikawa tooru.”

“it is nice, isn’t it?”

for the first time, your gazes meet properly and you offer him a crooked smile.

“i suppose so.”

off the side of the canal, almost right under the bridge, a small cluster of ducks have gathered. adult ducks tend to be considerably larger than its offspring —as is factual with any animal— so it’s easy for you to tell that there’s only one parent there, along with three of its ducklings.

people like to come to the canal to feed the ducks bread, though you’d heard somewhere that it’s actually quite bad for them.

you wonder. do ducks care particularly if one of its ducklings die? will it do something with the body, cry out, hurt?

or is grief exceptionally human?

“i don’t actually have a girlfriend, by the way.”

he sifts out his phone, tapping the screen and sliding it open. you watch him turn it to its side, before leaning over to take a picture of the depths below. you just watch.

“oh, okay.”

he doesn’t elaborate, focused intently on his current task. your attention returns to the shape of the birds, bobbing up and down rhythmically.

there’s only so much you can say about the canal. yeah, it’s beautiful. you don’t have the right vocabulary to describe the way it makes you feel. honestly, it feels abysmal to even try. you’re convinced though, that you’re in love with the way the water moves. you’ve always appriciated it whenever you walk past, told yourself jokingly that you could die there if you had to.

funny, that.

beautiful things tend to hurt in an unbearably amplified manner.

“say, tooru?”

“yeah?”

“if i climbed over the railing right now, would you stop me?”

you’re both fixated on the paddling now. his phone is back in his pocket, elbows propped up. he hums, taking his time to think over your question.

“most likely.”

your fingers meet one another and the tingling spreads to your palms.

“i’m thinking of jumping, actually.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“my joke earlier...”

“yeah.”

his fingers drum rhythmically on the slender poles under the rail top.

“then i’d jump right in with you.”

the corners of his mouth tug slightly at your perplexity, supressing a chortle. he’s not laughing at you, though. it’s more a gesture of understanding. this tooru doesn’t know you at all, yet he gets it. he gets it all too well.

you get that he gets it.

tooru clears his throat. “bad day?”

“that’s an understatement.”

“well, you’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

by now, the ducks have swam away, you can make out the general shape of them, melding into the distant, mute colours of the bankside. the sky look minutes away from being set alight. time has never been your friend, you see.

“i feel crazy for trying.” you’re rather blunt about it.

“fair enough.”

“…is that all?”

“well, do you want me to tell you that you’re not crazy?”

you lull into silence.

“i don’t know.”

with that, you shift to angle yourself so that he’s in your immediate peripheral, the thought of gawking at him seems ridiculous but you want to look at him. you find it hard to do it up front for some reason.

“i’m no suicide expert, but it’d probably be lonely doing something like that by yourself. wouldn’t it be comforting to know someone’s falling with you?”

your fingers run absently across the jagged surface of the rails, the old paint has been chipped away at, after all its years of protecting. in all it’s history, had anyone else hitched themselves over this very rail?

were they asking for the same answers as you?

god. that’s awful. you don’t want to think about that.

you catch each others’ eyes for a second but you resign quickly, focusing as hard as you can on the flecks of black on your thumb.

“that would be selfish of me.”

“not if i’m offering.”

you scramble to look anywhere else, abruptly turning. you’re facing away from the canal, stomach fluttering a little as you fall onto the rail’s length.

in all your time by yourself, you’d never been given an irrefutable reason to ‘be’. it’d always been a live-for-the-day type of experience. if a day is good, you’re utterly blissed out by it, totally in love with life. if it’s bad, you have little reason to go on. nothing particularly interests you enough to dedicate your days persuing it. fame seems tedious, looks are temporary, a six figure career sounds like emotional jail-time, or a slow, schedule-filled trek to death. whichever description sounds more sufferable.

you see, in essence, we all get off at the same bus stop. some journeys are simply shorter than others.

“you’re guilt-tripping me out of it.”

“i’m not!”

you’ve never stopped to ask yourself what it is you want.

death interests you, you suppose. though, you don’t see the reason to wait around and pretend to ignore it until one day it drags you kicking and screaming.

“oikawa tooru, don’t you have better things to be doing than offering to jump off bridges with strangers?”

that coy smile tugs at his lips once more. nothing you say seems to phase him. it’s like he knows you. he’s thinking: yeah, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary for them.

“should i? you look at that water like it’s someone you hate. or love. maybe both. i got curious.”

“curious?”

“yes. and quite frankly, you’ve left me curious. practically starving. you haven’t even told me your name.”

“my name doesn’t matter.”

“boo. that’s not true at all.”

his tongue pokes out, tugging at the corner of his eye. you shake your head, genuinely unable to hide your amusement, turning to him properly this time.

and really, it’s like the canal side and oikawa tooru were made from the same stardust. he blends right into the picture, as effortlessly pretty as the rest of it.

the strands of hair out of place, a little disheveled from the breeze. the scarf buried into his nose, glasses a little misty from the heat of his own breath but when they clear, you see his eyes all too well.

you’d like to tuck those strands into place, they’re bothering you just a little.

“(y/n).”

your brows furrow a little.

really, this could all very well be some sort of fantastical dream. as nice as it all is, it feels painfully unreal. boys don’t look like that on autumn evenings or offer to die with you.

that’s it.

tooru must be a figment of your imagination.

no. wrong. not a dream.

this is a corner of your mind you haven’t ventured into yet, psychologically, some kind of safety net. a sliced off piece of reality you’ve come to hide in because you’ve utterly lost your mind. he is nothing but a part of you that makes you feel at ease as you come to terms with your self-destruction.

god, that bothers you more. you are crazy.

your hand extends, reaches out all on its own.

you just want to know if he’s real.

oikawa tooru glances down for a moment, he’s probably wondering about you, what’s left you in such a state. though, he’s happy to slide his palm against yours, latching onto it. he shakes once, twice. a little more. tightens his hold a bit.

the weight of his fingers as they brush lightly against your palm is fantastical. he’s so warm. you can feel it spread through you from the pads of your fingers.

he’s very real.

tooru has rather pretty hands.

the contact makes you feel kind of delirious, a produce of being utterly touch-starved. just a simple touch. you’re embarrassed to say it but it takes everything inside of you not to start weeping or hold on frantically in case he does disappear, do something bizzare that’ll scare him away forever.

hey, tooru. are you made of honey?

“well, (y/n), i’m offering you my life right now.”

the sun has set foot on the horizon, plunging in ever so slightly. as a child, the thought of night scared you, feeling largely betrayed by the sun’s farewell. now, it’s a unique kind of comfort to see the moon. it’s as lonely as those who lay their eyes upon it.

“i don’t want it.”

his fingers slip downwards against the dips of your palm.

“you don’t?”

“no, i mean... i don’t want death. not right now..”

you don’t even want to think about it anymore. funny, how things like that work. you were so sure of it. today was the day. your dark rendezvous. weren’t you itching for it?

this bastard.

this man you’ve never met. he clasps onto your hand once and suddenly he stops your nauseating rollercoaster of thoughts and leaves you wondering if, actually, you’d like to see the canal-side again tomorrow, or in fifty years.

who are you really, oikawa tooru?

“no?”

“yeah.”

“then what do you want to do?”

“stay right here, i think.”

your fingers curl, maintaining your hold on him. you should be shy or awkward about this whole ordeal but so you’re desperate for that warmth to continue.

you both stand there, facing one another, hands extended. it’s a little robotic looking. you’re pretty stiff but very sure this is what feels right.

to you, existence is based solely on feeling your way through stages of life. that sickeningly sweet innocence of youth. childhood memories that to you, are dwindled husks of gold, valuable in some aspects but almost meaningless in others. to laugh or to cry allows an individual to create a deep-set connection to the environment around them. it is no longer passing scenery but a moment in your life you once lived through.

that’s beautiful, isn’t it?

unfortunately, emotion provides both a living fantasy and the potential for agony. life is not sweet, nor innocent. it is what you make of it.

it is what your mind is forced to make of it.

and as much as one wishes they were as coddled and loved as they were children, life beyond those years is lonely, difficult and more than you were ever capable of.

were you weak? perhaps.

but maybe people aren’t built for life. we’re all weak.

and realistically, if you are unable to clamber over one obstacle after another -established by those before you- you’re doomed to fall behind.

that will hurt. you will hurt unforgivably because self-worth is no longer a beautiful gift of internal discovery and love but another way to be measured and downsized externally. a practice that leads to hatred. a desire to die.

that’s really where it all began for you. a romantic, a poet at heart, living inside your own, kinder world. that is until reality knocked on your door, invited itself in, just to set the entire thing on fire and leave you as vulnerable as the day you were born.

you aren’t allowed to hide. it comes looking for you eventually.

your stance on life hasn’t changed, afterall, you’ve spent nights mourning over how much it can hurt to live. to fall asleep exhausted with yourself, only to wake up and do it all over again. what you do know, however, is that droning, lonely feeling isn’t there right now. that ongoing, battering ruckus inside your head has ceased. tooru, the strange magician, has left you thoughtless and a little dumb.

you like being this stupid. for once, there’s nothing intrusive prodding the inside of your head.

it’s frightfully quiet, actually. you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. how much time has passed since he’d made that awful joke?

his gaze is on your lingering contact, before lightly pulling you closer, twisting his wrist down so you’re holding hands. your gaze moves to the bankside. you feel comforted. maybe it isn’t death, maybe all you want is a hand to hold.

probably not. that is a stupid, sappy thought. you’re still fanatic about ending your life.

you were so close to doing it, without even really understanding what you were doing. the canal scenery is overpowering, numbing, if you will. without oikawa tooru, you may well have kissed those fishs’ fluorescent scales with your own two lips, as cold as ice with some unfortunate early-morning runner discovering you by twilight.

“we can do that.” he hesitates. “if i’m honest, i would have been pretty scared to jump.”

“yet you still offered?”

tooru hums merrily in confirmation.

“why?”

“because you’re cute.”

you can’t believe your own ears.

“what? seriously?”

“yeah. originally, i wanted your number but things took a small turn.”

you burst out in gutteral laughter, free hand back onto the railing for support. for a moment, you look at him, shaking your head in utter amazement.

“you’re a piece of work, tooru, you know?”

“yeah, i know.”

he smiles back at you. the shadows cast by the setting sun only make him all the more enigmatic.

now that you think about it, you can’t figure this guy out at all. it’s like staring at a wordless piece of paper and trying to find something legible.

“how do you know i won’t come back and repeat all of this tomorrow?”

tooru tilts his head ever so slightly, observing you. his eyes flutter down to your lips, speaking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“because you told me your name.”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

“well, now that i know that, you’re no longer just a beautiful stranger.”

you understood now. he hadn’t just offered you his life, he’d offered you him. by living on, you’d accepted graciously. he knows that if you visit the canal side again, you’ll only remember this moment.

a bad moment that he, in all his glory, turned into a good one. the day you two first met.

oh, clever boy. he saved you.

though you must say, oikawa tooru, you’re very much mistaken.

you are the beautiful stranger.

a tear runs down your cheek, a little warmer than you could’ve expected.

one turns into two, slipping more and more. eventually, you’re standing over the canal, hand in hand with oikawa tooru, sobbing quietly as the water runs peacefully below the both of you.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa fic #i love oikawa

[tonesplash]

edward x reader

a/n: this is my first time writing anything ever i just wanted to write about edward joking around, long the way i learned unmoving isnt a word, apparently.

warnings: smoochin, reader character is vaguely brown and a gamer ig, uuuh gta mention?? thats it 

(p/n) = parents name

"I could almost hear your hair breaking off from the driveway." You barely flinch when he suddenly appears behind you in the mirror, evidently back from his hunt.

"Is this you saying me being bald is going to be a problem? Or are you gonna let me do what I need to do?" you snark, leaned over a bowl of ammonia with tired arms and a tingly scalp.

Edward raises his hands and brows in mock surrender, lovingly watching you ruin your hair from the bathroom door.

"I'm just asking you to be a little more careful, chemical burns do bleed after all." the mental image that flashes is enough to make the both of you grimace.

"Thank you, for that visual." he frowns.

"Oh but I love to think about you going buck wild on my bleeding skull." you bite your lip in a show of faux arousal.

"Not funny." Edward huffs but smiles anyways as he takes a step and in a flash lifts the sloppily folded instructions off the counter, no doubt reading it all in less than a second.

"What would we tell my parents when I'm pasty as hell all of a sudden?" you finish applying the bleach paste to the piece you were on and move to give him space.

"Venom doesn't burn off melanin (y/n)" he laughs as he grabs the application brush from your extended hand, parting your curls to get at the back of your head.

"How would you know? There any brown girls running at the speed of sound across the united states to beat my ass that I should know about?"

He drops his head to your shoulder to laugh and his shoulders shake with the effort to hold it in.

"Have you picked a color yet?" Edward lifts his head, still smiling as he ignores your foolishness.

"Perhaps I have, but no peeking! It's a surprise!" you sing as you shimmy your shoulders and vogue at yourself in the mirror. His free hand comes down on your shoulder to steady you.

"Stay still, I'm trying to concentrate." The little crease between his perfect brows is enough evidence to prove so.

"Oooooh" you draw out the sound. "so like when you were trying to put the bag on my head inside out and I was a walking dollar store advert for three weeks?" you purse your lips and meet his golden pout in the mirror.

"As I recall, I had profusely apologized" he continues to evenly part and coats your hair, "and I bought you that hat you wanted to help cover it." You close your eyes in exaggerated exasperation, crossing your arms, ready to admonish this immortal man like the boy he acts like.

"Edward, wearing that beret to school every day, for that long, made (P/N) think I was manic." he dips the brush into the bowl one final time and begins gathering your hair to wrap for processing.

      "I thought it was very sweet how nice they were to me until you took it off." you finish tying the bag off as he wraps his arms around your waist to hook his chin over your shoulder.

    You twist to lean against the counter and throw your arms over his shoulders. You really did miss him this past week. He watches your expression carefully.

"Can I kiss you?"

    "I don’t see any issue, seeing as I can hardly smell you over the ammonia." You both share a smile at his dumb little joke.

But they fade as you both lean in, and he's lucky you're a big fan of slow burns because when your lips meet and his hands slowly slide up your back as he gently presses you into the counter, you're in heaven.

***

After an already irresponsibly long processing time and the urging of your justifiably concerned boyfriend, you close him out of your cluttered bathroom for rinsing and subsequent coloring.

You can hear him puttering about upstairs in your bedroom as you give yourself a cramp in the neck rinsing your head in the tub.

Once the tub is thoroughly stained and the water runs clear, you towel dry your hair, ready to show off the final results.

You make your way upstairs to find your door cracked open and your tv playing some classical music? Alright. You open the door and find Edward giving his damndest to parallel park a car in (insert video game).

You lean against the doorframe, watching for a moment before you identify what his problem is.

"That's not gonna end well man, you got the MadCatz."

"The what?" He says, looking away from the screen to watch you in the doorway. Your eyes stay fixed on the screen.

"MadCatz is the shitty controller brand I give to my little cousins when they come over so they think that they are playing the game. It hardly worked straight out of the box--- you're about to hit that lady."

In the two seconds he spent admiring your new hair, the virtual car had idled far enough to be dangerously close to a pedestrian who was cursing and gesturing wildly at the now unmoving car.

"How do I get her to move?"

"Don't worry about it, just go." You shrug, trying not to laugh. His choice of radio station is really not helping.

"But then the mirror would hit her!"

"Hit her then! She should've moved already!"

"(Y/N) I'm the one on the sidewalk!" he counters, almost genuinely frustrated.

"Just hand it to me." He relents and places the cheap hunk of plastic in your hand as you lay next to him on the bed, facing the tv. He begins to play with your damp hair, admiring the new color in the light from your window.

     But Edwards hands freeze in place when he idly tunes into your thoughts and faster than you have done anything in your entire life, you yank the controller under your chest and awkwardly crush your arms as the player character exits the car and pulls out a baseball bat.

"(Y/n), give me the controller." he's awkwardly hovering his hands around your body, considering the best plan of attack that doesn't involve intimate contact.

The angry woman stumbles back when she meets the player character's crazed glare, but continues yelling obscenities. And with one mighty swing, she is forcibly moved away from the car and collapses onto the curb.

You begin to cackle as you get back into the car and speed off down the road. Over the soaring orchestra on the radio and your own evil laughter, you fail to notice Edward has gone quiet beside you.

You park the car under a bridge as the cops begin their search and turn to hand back the now sweaty controller.

Only to be immediately tackled to your sheets.

His hands pin your wrists to the mattress as he hovers over you and your laughter dies down.

"You are ridiculous," he pauses to kiss the tip of your nose "but this color suits you. "

"Did you manage to set this up with Alice? This song is  pretty romantic."

And then he's kissing you with an almost reckless abandon, taking your already limited breath away almost instantly as you both get caught up in the motions of close contact.

Until a sharp pang and a flash from the television breaks your concentration and your lips with a sharp as you strain your neck to see what the issue is.

When your vision adjusts, Edward is already pressing his face into the mattress beside you in muffled laughter, and you can't help but join in along with him, even as the now dead man onscreen falls to the ground in slow motion gray-scale.

#twilight imagine #edward cullen x reader #reader insert #midnight sun #oneshot #fluff #edward x reader #forks #jasper x reader #mwahahaha #jasper hale x reader #my stuff

[ksqwildwest]

I like 34 on the prompt list.

Thank you for the ask!

Hugging while grabbing butt.... okay... as an AroAce I have no idea how to currently write this. Uh. You know what, I'm going to get some advice on this. See how it goes.

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

"Kaarrlll"

Karl continued to fill out the form in front of him, completely ignoring the voice.

"Kaaaarrllllllll"

A different voice called out this time but it was ignored in favor of figuring out which boxes to check.

"Kaaaaaarrrrrrrllllllllll"

His fingers twitched and his eyes narrowed for a moment in annoyance. That was all they needed to see before the voices joined together.

"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT YOU WIN!"

Karl threw down his pen and turned to Jack and Mason. The two were happily staring at him while standing at cell bars. He could see Connor sleeping peacefully behind them.

"How on earth can Connor sleep through your whining?"

"He's used to it," Jack brushed off the question, "you done with that paperwork yet?"

Karl deadpaned. "You interrupted me, while I'm working on paperwork, to ask me if I was done with the paperwork."

"Yep," Mason answered smugly.

"Mmhm," Karl hummed disbelievingly, "What do you two really want?"

The two shared a look that told Karl they really didn't think he'd call them out like that. They both had thought that they would have needed to bother him for at least a few more hours till he figured out they wanted something from him. Now they owed Connor money.

"Well," Jack mumbled while looking around the room, "I don't really know. Mason?"

He shrugged, "A hug could be nice."

Jack nodded in agreement and Karl felt a part of him melt. They just wanted a bit of affection. From him specifically! They could just hug each other but no, they wanted a hug from him. It was sweet.

Mason snapped Karl out of his thoughts while asking, "Sooo, are you gonna come in here or what?"

The iron barrier between them was a problem. Karl thought about grabbing the cell keys from his back pocket. On one hand, the only real reason they had even let themselves get put in the cell was so Karl could practice watching over prisoners that tried to get out. Crops was warming up to Karl's presence but the colorful sheriff still didn't quite trust him enough to watch over him alone. On the other hand, the two seemed honest enough in their intentions. And they had been mostly quiet up until they started whining.

Then he remembered. "The bars are wide enough to slide your arms through."

Mason and Jack looked surprised and immediately suck their arms through the bars as far as they could go.

"Hey, yah! We can!" Jack called gleefully while waving their arms around the empty air.

Karl walked over and laughed as the two had a short debate on who got hugged first. He couldn't follow any of it as they kept bringing up things like "The Moo Juice Incident" and "The Easter Mass Incident". He made a mental note to ask Thompson if anything they were talking about actually happened. It all sounded really funny.

Mason seemed to win the argument and quickly pressed up against the bars with open arms.

Karl stepped forward and felt two strong arms wrap under his own and pulled him tight against the bars. He wrapped his own arms over Mason's shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt Mason melt into the touch and made a mental note to do it more often.

After what most people would argue was too long of a hug, the two pulled away. Their arms had barely been untangled from each other before Karl felt another arm snaking around his waist and pulled him toward Jack.

Jack being shorter than Karl only ever came up in two ways. One, when someone teased him about his height, mostly from Mason. And two, when they hugged.

Karl rolled his eyes as his face flushed when he felt a hand settle on his butt. He scolded lightly, "Jack, that's my butt."

Jack smirked with his cheek pressed up against the bars. The two had had this conversation before and he knew that Karl didn't truly mind it as long as his hands didn't wonder around. "I'm short. What do you want me to do."

Their hug was much shorter than the first one. And as they pulled away, Jack gave a cheeky squeeze that had Karl jumping from surprise.

Mischievous grins and playful glares were exchanged until Karl realized the time.

"Alright," he announced to the bandits, "I've got to go pick up my dinner from the bar and I'm gonna check in on John too. No trying anything while I'm gone, you hear me?"

Mason ignored the question and instead called out, "Bring us back a few bottles!"

"And tell John we said hi!" Jack added.

Karl figured that he would have to debate with them for a while to get a straight reply and he was really hungry. So, without another thought, he paced out of the room and headed for the saloon.

The two waited silently until Karl's footsteps faded out. Jack turned to Mason and held up the cell keys in his hands. "Scale of one to ten, how mad at us do you think he'll be?"

Mason thought for a moment, "He'll probably be more angry at himself for not catchin us in the act. Then again, he did tell us not to go easy on him."

"That he did," Jack said while he reached around and unlocked the cell door, "I don't know about you but I'm hungry." He held open the door and gestured out, "Shall we?"

"Absolutely."

----------

I hope you liked it! I didn't really know how to incorporate "butt holding" as a romantic type thing but I did manage to fit it in there!

#tftsmp #tftsmp wild west #tales from the smp #karlnapity #karl jacobs #jack kenoff #tftsmp mason #tftsmp connor #short

[theangryjikooker]

Let's start fresh?

I'm kind of the jikooker who scales the jikook relationship time to time based on questionable content. Before I had seen the gimbap live I was 50-50% but then the scale rose to 70-30%. Higher side is always on the"yes they dating". I'm at a 80 right now because of hickey gate. 😅

(for sure I don't think they are married or Live together, that is delulu unless there's some solid proof. But I do think they are dating in some sort of way. I'm okay if you don't believe in the Schrodinger's jikook theory you have)

How do you feel about the recent vlive vminkook one? Need your opinions on that 😉

I think you bring up a wonderful point, anon!

A sliding scale best represents my opinions of Jikook, but I will never go 100% unless they say it with their own mouths that they're dating, or we get a photo of them straight up kissing. These are the only ways I can be convinced they're 100% dating; otherwise, Jikook dating will only ever remain a possibility at best for me.

So to anyone reading this, I'm not against Jikook as a couple. It's just that there are boundary thresholds I refuse to cross. I'd say the highest I've ever gone on in believing Jikook are dating is 75-25%, but I hover around 50-50% or 60-40% (depending on the moment) most of the time.

I will say that "hickey-gate" wasn't a huge issue to me as much as the ear sucking was. 😳

My thoughts on the Vminkook vlive?

I thought that it was VERY. CUTE. I was all for it. There wasn't anything that Jikook (mostly Jimin) said that isn't common knowledge. They like each other's company, and as a result they spend a lot of time together. Awesome!

I saw some Jkkrs say (jokingly or otherwise), "See, they're really boyfriends!" It's a cute sentiment, and I can see why they would think so. We might not know how their rooms are arranged, but they can't be that far that Jungkook can't go several doors down (or even a floor) to spend time with the other members.

For me, though, it still boils down to the fact that they just like spending time with one another. There wasn't any hesitation or weird reactions (like in Jimin's birthday vlive) when Jimin explained that Jungkook stops by 3x a day and all he does is stay in bed while Jimin is sitting down on a nearby chair, or that they ate chicken together after the concert. That's how people chill together when relaxing. It's not worth reading too much into, and I'm just happy that they spend a lot of quality time together, especially knowing that it happens behind-the-scenes. I had a worried Jkkr earlier this week that was convinced Jikook had a falling out, and here's more proof that they don't need to be attached to the hip in front of the camera to be attached to the hip. Not everything they do has to have some romantic overture; they can just chill out.

But then I saw toxic Jkkrs flap their gums as usual, saying something to the effect of: "They're boyfriends! When they do [something more brazen] you can get more jealous!" (I can't quote these people directly because I'm not trying to target specific users) Um, what? This sentiment only tells me that you want something to prove; these are the same people who'll claim that they'll be happy for Jikook no matter what, but if god forbid they were to marry a woman* in the future, they will have a conniption fit. These are the types of people I have an issue with and who ruin the innocence of Jikook just being Jikook.

* My blog doesn't exist to debate the sexuality of the boys, but it's a prime example of the types of toxic Jkkrs I see and how sensitive they are to anything that shifts away from Jikook being real in their eyes.

#TAJ asks #lovely jikook supporters #jikook #kookmin #jikookers #kookminers

[whenisitenoughtrees]

Might I suggest “I don’t want to be alone.” with Royaliceit?

okay um. this one really got away from me, as i’m sure you can tell from the word count, so i really hope you like roman angst (w/ a happy ending, bc i’m not a monster)

Title: we are not alone (in the dark with our demons)

Word Count: 5,888

Content Warnings: roman-typical self-worth issues

(fic masterpost)

Roman has never really known what love is.

Oh, he pretends well enough. That’s his job, after all. He is Thomas’ hopes and dreams, his most romantic fantasies, and he performs that role well, spouting off suggestions about grand gestures and acts of true love and deeds of valor and honor and bravery. And it’s not as if he’s lying; based on every story he’s ever read, every Disney movie he’s ever watched, that is the epitome of what romance should be. And he thinks he would like that, would like to execute these grand gestures for someone, would like to sweep someone off their feet, be their savior, their hero.

Someone becomes Patton so gradually that he doesn’t notice for a very long time. Doesn’t notice how his heart beats faster whenever Patton is in the room, doesn’t notice how he hangs off Patton’s every word, doesn’t notice how he would do just about anything to get Patton to smile at him. Or rather, he does notice, sort of, in a vague, curious way. He’s just not sure what it means.

And then comes the wedding. And Roman thinks he understands what love is after all. Because the words of the others have always hurt him, their criticisms and mockery never as easily shaken off as he likes them to think, but this? This is something different. He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, with the side he was told not to believe, was told was in the wrong, was told was bad for Thomas, so you shouldn’t listen to him, Roman! He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, as Thomas sides with Deceit, upending everything he thought he believed, and the betrayal hits him like a knife to his chest. And he knows that it wouldn’t sting nearly so much if he didn’t trust Patton, if he wasn’t willing to follow him anywhere, if he didn’t love him, and the realization is far more bitter than sweet.

So, love is this: heartbreak, the stifling silences between breaths, and the words, we love you, said as if he is supposed to accept them.

He doesn’t. And why should he? He works so hard, tries his best every hour of every day, and this is what it gets him? A blow to the back of his head, faded and empty promises, a snake whispering in the dark, and Thomas turning away from him. You are! rings in his head, stuttered, placating, a lie.

And perhaps Thomas is right. Perhaps they are all right. And if Deceit is right, then he must be wrong. Isn’t that how it goes? Someone has to be the villain, after all. What else is he, if not a washed-up prince, a hero that has never managed to save anyone, a Creativity that is not nearly as good as he portrays himself to be?

God. No wonder they don’t love him.

So he throws himself into being better, into being more. He swallows his pride and apologizes to Deceit— to Janus, he supposes, though something about using the name still leaves an acrid taste in the back of his throat— and if the apology is a bit halfhearted, not entirely meant, Deceit doesn’t call him out on it, and he doesn’t call out Deceit’s apology in turn (and he has no idea, none at all, whether he means it sincerely or not. He can never tell, anymore, whether the words out of Deceit’s mouth are lies or truths, and sometimes, he thinks it doesn’t matter either way).

He asks Logan for input more often. He tries harder not to antagonize Virgil, or at least, not in the ways that truly bother him. He smiles at Patton when Patton approaches him, smiles and insists that he’s fine, even though he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and dropped into oncoming traffic.

And Patton believes him. That is, perhaps, what hurts worst of all, that he doesn’t see the way he’s falling apart beneath the thin veneer of bravado.

But he can’t blame him for that. Roman is, if nothing else, a good actor. A good liar.

He spends more time working, coming up with ideas that are bigger and better than any of his previous ones. He presents them to Thomas, and acts like his entire being isn’t screaming for some form of validation, any scrap of affection, any crumb that might tell him that Thomas doesn’t think he’s too much of a failure after all. And sometimes, he gets that. Sometimes, the ideas are good. Sometimes, Thomas grins and thanks him and congratulates him on a job well done.

More often, the ideas aren’t good enough. More often, it’s back to the drawing board. He barely sleeps these days, can barely be bothered to try.

And he thinks about love a lot. Thinks in the privacy and secrecy of his own mind that maybe, love isn’t worth it, if it hurts this much. Thinks that he wishes that these feelings would go away, and then maybe, he could begin to claw his way back toward normalcy.

But he’s too aware of it, now. Too aware of the way that Patton smiles and moves, too aware of his kindness and his concern and the way he always tries to take such good care of everyone. The betrayal still sits heavy in his chest, but it’s like an old wound, now, one that still pains him but one that he can ignore most days, because in the end, he’s not sure that Patton was wrong at all in what he did, in choosing Deceit over him. He thinks that maybe he was wrong, that he still is, and he’s doing his best to change that, but he has never known how to be anything different from what he is. He has only known how to cover it all up, how to wrap himself in glittering paper and a shiny bow and hope that no one looks too closely at what lies underneath.

Perhaps he’s getting too lost in his own head. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t see it coming.

It’s the only explanation he can think of. He should have noticed it, otherwise, should have seen the way that Patton and Deceit inch together, like two stars sliding into each other’s orbits. He should have seen the cautious glances, charged with so much more emotion than words could say, should have seen the tentative touches, should have seen the way they angle themselves toward each other whenever they’re in the same room. He should have seen it, should have guessed it, but he didn’t, so when Patton announces one night, over dinner, that he and Janus have decided to begin a relationship, he is taken completely by surprise.

Logan extends congratulations. Virgil’s blessing is far more cautious, still very wary of Deceit’s increased presence in their lives, but he appears glad for Patton, at least. And Roman offers the loudest, most boisterous well-wishes he can think of, professing his joy for Patton’s newfound happiness, putting forth anything and everything he can think of to direct attention away from the fact that on the inside, he just feels—

Numb.

Numb. Cold. Empty.

He knew he couldn’t have him. He knew that Patton could never return his affections. But apparently, there is a great deal of difference between knowing and knowing, and that difference is sobbed into his pillow in the early hours of the morning.

He falls into an uneasy sleep, and his dreams are of Patton, Patton smiling, Patton laughing, Patton telling him that he did good, Patton kissing him and tasting of citrus and cotton candy. And then, the dreams change, and Janus is there, too, sliding around the edges, smooth and confident and beautiful, his every motion poetry, his every glance a caress, and Roman takes his face in his hands and kisses him just as soundly as he did Patton, and then, he wakes up, shaking.

This cannot be right. This cannot be right, because these are all the emotions he pushed deep, deep down inside of him, never to see the light of day again. These are the emotions that he rejected after the theater, after the courtroom, after everyone told him time and time again that Deceit was wrong, that Deceit was bad, and if he wanted to be right, wanted to be good, he needed to treat Deceit like the villain he was. And so he did, and pretended that he has never wondered what Deceit’s lips would feel like on his, what it would be like to trace his fingers down those glimmering scales.

It seems that the time for pretending is over.

Once ended, an illusion cannot be reformed. The audience knows the trick now, would see right through any further conjuration. And Roman, too, can no longer fool himself into believing that what he feels does not exist, or that it will go away if he ignores it. He watches Patton, and he watches Janus, and he watches them together, cooking in the kitchen or cuddling on the sofa or simply sitting near each other and enjoying the company, and he burns for them, bright and hot and never-ending, fueled by the sheer force of his want. Roman is passion and Roman is desire, and he desires them, desires their attention and their affection and their love, and it’s like an arrow to his heart to know that he cannot have them, cannot have this.

Because they already have each other. And even if he were worthy of them in the first place, there is no space for him between them.

So, he does the hardest thing he has ever done in his life, and he pulls away.

He tries not to be obvious about it, tries not to do anything that might arouse suspicion or concern. He works longer, harder, makes excuses to miss meals and family gatherings. Loneliness settles into him like a physical weight, one that presses against his chest and makes it hard to breathe. Sometimes, he feels as though he stands on the edge of a precipice, a yawning chasm below, and all he has to do to fall is take one step forward. Sometimes, he feels as though he’s already falling, the wind whistling in his ears, gravity dragging him ever downward.

They give him looks, sometimes. Patton more often than Janus, though that might just be because Janus is more subtle. He can never interpret these looks. They’re always contemplative, perhaps a bit confused, perhaps a bit sad, and he doesn’t know what that means. Part of him fears that they’ve figured it out, figured him out, him and his hopeless, stupid love. Part of him wants them to, wants them to see right past him to all his dirty secrets, wants them to rip the bandage off, to let him down gently, to tell him what he already knows.

Part of him wants to fall.

The loneliness becomes tangible, surrounding him like a fog. He’s surprised no one else can see it. But then, that is the point, isn’t it?

He’s chosen this.

And it all hits him one evening, as the sun has just begun to set and he’s skipped yet another dinner, claiming to be off on a quest in the Imagination. He hasn’t been on a quest for a while, hasn’t been able to muster up the energy, or the persona. Quests are for princes, for heroes, and these days, he’s not so sure that he’s either of those. He certainly doesn’t feel like one. He plans to work instead, to churn out a few more video ideas for Thomas in the hopes that one is usable.

He finds himself curling up in a ball in the corner of his room, tears stinging in his eyes.

There’s no particular reason for it. Nothing about today has been any worse than any other recent days. This feels like something that has building for a while, like a rubber band stretched until it snaps. And he feels like he’s snapped, like something essential in him has broken, and he knows that he should be able to move past this, should get back up and get back to work, but he can’t, and that fact just sends him spiraling more, because if he can’t create anything and he can’t love properly, then what good is he?

He shudders, choking on a sob and sucking in a desperate breath. He stuffs his fist in his mouth, trying to muffle the cries that seek to escape him, as if from a wounded animal, and perhaps that’s exactly what he is. A wounded animal, begging for comfort, for solace, and finding nothing at all.

He wants someone here. Just, someone. Anyone. Someone to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright, even if it’s a lie. Someone to dry his tears, to grasp his hands, to touch him. He wants it and he can’t have it, and he feels so, so alone.

Even if he deserved reassurance, he wouldn’t seek it. He’s supposed to be strong, supposed to be a prince, for heaven’s sake, and even if he knows just how weak he truly is, the others don’t.

He can’t let anyone see him like this.

And that is when the knock sounds on his door, as if summoned by his thoughts. Four times, a light, quick beat. He freezes, alarm coursing through him.

“Hey, Roman?” It’s Patton. It’s Patton, and he sounds worried, and Roman hates himself for becoming a source of stress. “I, uh, I brought you dinner. I know you said you’d grab something later, but you haven’t been down for a meal with everyone in a while, so, uh. I’m getting a little bit worried about you. Could I come in?”

He takes a steadying breath. He needs to respond, because if he doesn’t, Patton will likely enter anyway, just to check on him. So he needs to reply, and hope for the life of him that whatever he says is good enough to persuade him to leave, to persuade him that all is well.

“Just leave it outside the door,” he calls out. His voice sounds thick and clumsy even to his own ears. It’s because of the tears, but perhaps he can claim he just woke up from a nap, if Patton asks. “I’ll grab it in a bit.” And then, he winces, because that sounds rude, sounds callous, sounds like he doesn’t care that Patton has made the effort to come up here and bring him food. It’s quite the opposite; he cares far too much. So he tacks on, “Thanks, Pat,” hoping that at least some of his gratitude will come across.

Instead, his voice breaks, and his breath hitches as he forcibly suppresses another sob.

For a long moment, Patton is silent.

“Are you… okay?” he asks. “I’m coming in, Roman.”

No.

“Please don’t,” he says, and realizes even as he does that his voice is too frantic, too desperate, and it won’t fool Patton for even a second. “I’m fine.”

The doorknob turns, and the door slowly swings open. Not all the way, just enough for Patton to poke his head through, his brows furrowed in concern. There is a plate in his hands, and the room fills with the scent of cooked pasta. Spaghetti, he thinks. One of his favorites.

“You don’t sound fine,” Patton says, and then his gaze finally lands on Roman, and Roman would like to melt into the floor in shame. He knows what he must look like, knows he must seem an utter disaster, with his rumpled clothes and tear-stained face, curled up in the corner like the pathetic mess of a side he is.

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes widening. He seems shocked for a moment, but then, he is moving, entering the room all the way and rushing to Roman’s side, setting the plate down on his desk before kneeling next to him, hands outstretched but not touching, not quite, as if he’s unsure of his welcome. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? What can I do?”

He shakes his head, staring at him, because how is he supposed to tell Patton the truth? How is he supposed to tell him that he aches for him, him and Janus both, longs to disrupt the happiness they’ve found in each other? How is he supposed to tell him that he’s pulled away to try to get over himself, to prevent himself from doing something rash, to attempt to make the problem disappear, and instead has only succeeded in making himself feel worse? How is he supposed to admit any of this?

How is he supposed to admit that he’s a failure?

“It’s just…” he starts. “It’s too much, right now. I’ll, I’ll be okay, I just need…” He cuts himself off, burying his face in his hands, because he knows exactly what he needs, and he can’t let himself say it out loud, but if he voices anything else, it would be a lie, and he’s already lying to Patton so much, and he’s so tired.

“What do you need, honey?” Patton asks, but he just curls in on himself more.

New strategy: maybe if he doesn’t answer at all, Patton will get fed up and leave. It’s unlikely, because that’s just not the kind of person that Patton is. But it’s the only viable plan he has left.

Patton doesn’t leave.

“That’s okay, Roman. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna.” Patton hesitates, and Roman is tempted to look at him, to take the measure of whatever expression is on his face. “Would it be alright if I touched you?”

And he does look then, looks and finds that the only emotion on Patton’s face is concern, a desire to help, so he nods, and Patton reaches out to him, gathering him into his arms, and Roman can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. He feels so safe, so warm, and so terribly, horribly guilty, because he can’t feel like he’s taking advantage of him, because Patton has no idea about the feelings that flutter in his chest, traitorous and excited by something so simple as mere contact, and his mind is so eager to twist this situation around, to make more out of it than it is.

Patton cares about him. He feels more secure about that than he used to. But it is the same kind of care that Patton offers to everyone, and he feels so selfish and awful for desiring more than that, and for not having the courage to even own up to doing so.

But he still relaxes into the embrace, lets Patton rub soothing circles into his back, even though it makes him sob harder, this moment that is so close to what he wants and yet so far.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Patton murmurs, “I promise. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

He shakes his head mutely. It’s all he can do.

Nothing is going to be okay. But he doesn’t have the words to explain that.

But maybe, if he can live in this moment for just a little while longer, he will regain the strength to pretend.

“Patton?” The voice floats in from outside his room, and he stiffens. “You’ve been gone for a while. Is everything— oh.”

Roman shifts his head, and his vision is blurry, but he can just make out the figure standing in his doorway, awkward and discomfited, his hands twitching as if he doesn’t know where to place them. It’s Janus, because of course it is Janus, come looking for his boyfriend, and here Roman is, taking up both of their time, now, and there is a part of him that selfishly delights in it, that insists that if this is all he will ever get from them, he might as well make the most of it.

“I can—” Janus shuffles his feet, oddly hesitant. “Here, I’ll just—”

He moves as to leave, and close the door behind him, and suddenly, that is the last thing Roman wants. It is too late to pretend that this never happened, too late to prevent him from seeing his humiliation in the first place. At this point, what is a little more selfishness?

“You can stay,” he murmurs, and he’s sure he doesn’t sound at all convincing, but Janus pauses anyway, a crease forming between his brows. When he enters the room, he does so cautiously, as if expecting Roman to change his mind at any moment, but he does enter, and that is what is most important. He kneels beside Patton, and Roman is certain that they exchange a glance over his head, some silent communication, before Janus tentatively reaches out and places a hand on Roman’s arm. It is clear that he is not practiced in offering comfort, but the fact that he is willing to try at all is enough to add to the tears still streaming down his face.

“Would you like to tell us what’s wrong?” Janus asks, and even when Roman doesn’t answer with anything more than hitching breaths and shallow sobs, turning his face back into Patton’s shirt because he can’t face this kindness, Janus doesn’t push him for more. Just sits there and offers silent support and a single source of contact.

It’s too much, really, having the both of them here, having Patton hugging him and Janus touching him, both of them offering care but not the kind of care that Roman wants most. And it’s so wrong of him to fool them into giving this to him, because this means so much more to him than it does to them and they have no idea. He’s essentially tricking them, tricking them in the worst kind of way, and the longer he sits there, crying against Patton’s chest, the worse he feels about it.

And eventually, his tears run dry. And he knows he has to end this.

“I’m okay now,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he’s no longer speaking into Patton’s shirt. “You guys can go.”

Janus arches a brow, and belatedly, Roman remembers that lying to the Lord of the Lies is an inadvisable move at best.

“Is that right?” Janus asks, doubt dripping from every syllable. He’s not aiming to wound, but Roman flinches anyway. “You’ve spent the past twenty minutes sobbing your heart out, and there’s absolutely no underlying reason that needs to be dealt with? Everything’s all hunky-dory?”

He wriggles out of Patton’s hold with no small amount of regret, shifting backward until there is a few feet of space between him and both of them. He tries to fix his expression into some semblance of a glare, though he’s certain it’s not very effective. He must look like a train wreck.

“All hunky-dory,” he confirms, and has to pause, because literally who says that anymore? He shouldn’t find that endearing. He shouldn’t. “I was just… overwhelmed. That’s all.”

It’s not technically a lie, so Janus shouldn’t be able to sense anything off. But he narrows his eyes in suspicion, reminding Roman that he’s still perfectly capable of detecting half-truths the normal way, though plain observation.

“You have been putting an awful lot of pressure on yourself lately,” Patton says, and Roman turns to him in surprise. Patton winces, wringing his hands. “I mean… I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries here, but it seems to me that we barely see you anymore, ‘cause you’re always holed up in here working. And I’m not saying that you need to stop or anything like that, especially not if you’re feeling a lot of inspiration these days, but, um. We miss you.” He pauses. “I miss you.” He says the last in an undertone, glancing at his lap, and Roman blinks.

“I didn’t…” He stops, trying to get his thoughts in order, but it’s a hopeless task. His thoughts are flying every which way, no rhyme or reason to them. “That is, I didn’t mean to—”

“If you’re going to finish that sentence with something along the lines of, I didn’t mean to avoid you, you needn’t bother,” Janus interrupts. His voice is smooth and unreadable, and something about it makes Roman want to crawl under a rock and hide there. “It’s fairly obvious to me that that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.” Patton frowns then, looking at Janus and opening his mouth to say something, but Janus holds up a hand, forestalling him. “What I don’t understand is why? Or at least, why Patton? Me, I get.”

It takes a moment for him to realize what Janus is saying, his mind taking far too long to wrangle his words into something approaching sense. “Wait, what?” he blurts out. “Why would you… why would you ‘get it’ if I was avoiding you?”

This is, perhaps, not the most urgent question he needs to ask. But he’s confused, now, confused and beginning to realize that once again, his actions may have had unintended consequences.

Janus looks at him like he’s crazy. “Roman, I am not unaware that you dislike me. And that’s… perfectly fine. After everything I’ve put you through, I… well, as I said, I understand.” He pauses, inhaling deeply, seeming to steady himself. “Again, I’m not asking for me. And I would appreciate an answer.”

Roman can only stare, his horror mounting as he realizes that Janus means every word of what he’s saying, that Janus truly believes that Roman doesn’t like him, and oh god, he’s gone and fucked all of this up, hasn’t he? He didn’t think they would notice him stepping back, much less draw the wrong conclusions, but apparently they have, and he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can lean into this, pretend to be angry with them, pretend not to want them around, no matter how much that would break him. Or he can tell them the truth, and be broken in an entirely different way when they reject him, kindly at best and in disgust at worst. There’s no good option, and it’s all he can do to keep his breathing even, to keep his lungs functioning.

But he looks at Janus, his face set into hard lines. And he looks at Patton, who doesn’t meet his eyes, whose dejection is shining through every inch of his slumped posture and in the way he fiddles with his fingers, anxious and discontent.

He didn’t think this would hurt them. Frankly, he thought they were too wrapped up in each other to notice much of what he was doing at all. But evidently, he has miscalculated, badly, and there is no good option, but he knows which one will hurt them less.

He’s been selfish enough.

He releases a shuddering breath, shaking his head and staring at the floor. He doesn’t have it in him to look at them, to watch their reactions to what he’s about to say. “I’m really sorry,” he says, and his voice emerges as a miserable whisper. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to make you think that—” He cuts off. Gathers his thoughts into a coherent sentence. By the nine muses, this is difficult. “I don’t… I don’t dislike you. Either of you. Um, it’s the opposite. I, uh, like you a lot. Both of you. Too much.” He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach, as if to hide, though he knows that there is no hiding from this, no going back. “I just, you two were so happy, and I didn’t want to, to get in the way, or ruin something, but I guess I failed at that too, huh? I… god, I’m so sorry.”

He stops talking. There’s nothing more he can say. It’s out in the open, now. No take-backs.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. But it’s not for Patton to lunge forward, to grab him by the shoulders and jerk him upright, to force eye contact, sudden and startled.

“You could never,” Patton insists, and to Roman’s dismay, his voice is choked with tears. “Do you hear me? You could never, ever ruin anything.” He sniffles, then, losing some of his intensity, and leans forward, pressing his forehead against Roman’s. “I thought that I’d messed up,” he says. “I thought that it was still too much, after the wedding and everything that happened, and that you still wanted space, or time, and I felt so guilty because I didn’t want to let you have that, but I thought that if it was what you wanted, then I shouldn’t—” He sighs, cutting himself off and closing his eyes. A tear slips out from between his eyelids.

Roman, for his part, barely dares to breathe. Patton is so close.

“You,” he says, a stuttering start, because he doesn’t know what he’s saying, doesn’t know what Patton is saying, “you, what do you—”

“I like you a lot, too,” Patton says, and Roman can see the way his eyes shine and swirl, his irises a smeared mixture of Thomas’ brown and his own signature blue. “I have for… gosh, a really long time now. I guess I never thought there was a good time for me to do something about it, and then with the… everything, I thought for sure that you didn’t… I’m so sorry, Roman. You’ve been hurting all this time and I didn’t… I couldn’t…” He trails off into a sniffle, and as much as Roman would like to comfort him, he is frozen, working through the words that echo in his ears and in his brain.

Because he can’t have said what he thinks he’s just said, right? Because that would mean—

Unable to help himself, he looks over to Janus, expecting to see anger or dismay or something of the like, because if Roman is hearing this correctly, if Roman is interpreting this correctly, then Patton… Patton has just confessed to having feelings for him. And that in itself is difficult to process, impossible to accept, but surely Janus can’t approve of this, can’t allow this to happen, can’t let Roman get between him and his boyfriend—

Janus is staring, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, and his expression is open and unguarded but there is no anger there, no fear, and when he catches Roman looking, it softens, suddenly, inexorably, and Roman can’t hope to understand it because he must be seeing wrong, because it looks an awful lot like—

Well. It looks an awful lot like the way he looks at Patton.

“You’ve always captivated me,” Janus says, simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I… I know that I’ve flattered you in the past, but I, ah. I might have meant more of it than I wanted to let on.” He glances away, as if embarrassed, and Roman feels as though he’s floating. “I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t acquitted myself well, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“We’ve talked about this, a little bit,” Patton says softly, and Roman drags his attention back to him, little though he wants to look away from Janus, from this confession that he can scarcely bring himself to believe. “You, that is. We both love you a whole lot, Roman. We didn’t think you’d be interested, so we didn’t bring it up before. But we’d be really, really happy if you’d join us, honey.”

He shudders, tearing himself away from Patton and immediately feeling the loss, the cold air against his forehead. He doesn’t know what to do, or what do say, and most of him can’t absorb the fact that this is happening, that this is real, that after so long being on his own, they’re both here, they know that he loves them, and they want him in return.

He should be ecstatic. Over the moon. Jumping for joy. But he has never once allowed himself to believe that he might have this, has never so much as entertained the possibility, so now, presented with everything he has longed for, he feels so terribly overwhelmed.

“It’s up to you,” Patton says softly. He reaches out, and when Roman doesn’t move to stop him, he takes his hand, and Roman could cry, he really could. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, whatever you want, we can do.”

He shakes his head desperately, a multitude of words springing to his lips but all of them falling short of being spoken, because he doesn’t know how to explain this, how to explain that it’s too much, being asked this, being asked what he wants, because he wants anything and everything, but he has spent so long telling himself that he can’t that he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s being told that he can.

And some of that must show on his face, because Patton scoots closer, concern driving a furrow in his brow, but then, suddenly, Janus is there, a steady presence at his side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready for that,” he says, and Roman has never heard Janus speak so tenderly. Not like this, not to him. “It’s alright if you’re not ready for anything at all. But if you’d like, you could try starting with what you don’t want.”

At first, he’s not sure what Janus means, not sure how that will help. But then, his perspective flips, and he finds it easier, somehow, to focus on that, rather than the alternative. He wants so much, and he is too used to denying himself, but at this point, he knows very well what he doesn’t want.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he gasps out, and it’s practically a sob, weak and shattered. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

Patton shifts closer once again, wrapping his arms around him for a second time. And Janus is here, too, pressing up against his side.

“Never,” Patton swears. “You never have to be alone, not ever again.”

“And that’s the whole truth and nothing but,” Janus adds, a bit wry but somehow still infinitely soft.

And they stay. With him. Just because he asked. And slowly, their proclamations sink in, the idea that perhaps they really do love him return, and goodness, he’s been so foolish, hasn’t he? Pushing them away because he thought it best, because he was so sure they wouldn’t want him, when really, it was the opposite. He hovers somewhere between laughing and breaking down into tears once again, but ends up doing neither, relaxing into the warmth of Patton’s arms holding him, of Janus right by his side.

Perhaps he was wrong, before. Perhaps even now, he has never truly understood what love is. He has spent the last weeks and months defining it by heartbreak, but perhaps it was never about that at all.

So, perhaps love is this: acceptance, the rhythm of three hearts beating as one, and the words, we’re not leaving, said aloud and finally, finally, Roman thinks he can accept them.

General Taglist:@just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157

#royaliceit #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #these prompts are supposed to be like... 2k words #idk what happened here #my pathological inability to be succinct strikes again

[americancowgirl19]

Mutant not Monster - Part One

Part One: Background; this is basically a background part. Dean will be in the next part with Sam. I highly recommend you read this part so you can understand the plot.

Summary: Y/n and her twin brother, Warren, are both mutants. In a world where mutants aren’t accepted, Y/n and her brother have to go on the run as anti-mutant extremists begin hunting their kind down. Sam and Dean are hunters, just not mutant hunters. However, their paths cross and despite a rocky beginning they become allies against not only the war against mutants but the war against mankind. 

Warnings: angst, curse, fluff, anti-mutant terrorism

Reader: Female Reader; Y/n Worthington 

Pairings: (Eventual) Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,794

A/n: This is more of my own mini story than a specific part of X-Men and Supernatural. I’ll stick as close to supernatural as I can but if you see things that are different than they were in the show, just roll with it. This is kind of a crossover with X-Men and Supernatural but I’m just doing my own thing with the X-Men characters and Supernatural. I’m not going along with any specific movie or comic book. When Dean and Sam come in it’ll technically take place around the season 4 of Supernatural where they know about angels. Also gif is from google and it’s Miley Cyrus from the ‘Can’t Be Tamed’ music video.

Part Two

Masterlist

1989 - Y/n POV - Reader is 9

“Warren slow down!” I shouted after my brother as he scales up the tree. I try to keep up with him but struggle to maintain a steady grip on the bark. My twin brother just laughs and continues to climb branch after branch.

“Y/n! Warren! Be careful!” Our mother shouts approaching the tree. I take a second to look down at her. She stands by the trunk with her arms crossed. Her eyes squint as she looks up into the tree but I doubt she can see us through the branches and leaves. “Don’t climb too high!”

“Come on, Y/n,” Warren says regaining my attention. He motions for me to continue following him. Huffing I reach for the next branch and pull myself up.

“How much farther? Mom doesn’t want us too high,” I tell him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Warren says ignoring the uneasiness in my voice. While I didn’t have a fear of heights, in fact I liked being higher than everyone else, I was afraid of losing my grip from being too tired. As much as I tried to keep up with my brother he seemed to have energy for days.

“Warren, look at this,” I say finding a birds nest. My brother looks down at me before quickly climbing to my spot.

“Wow,” He whispers as the newly hatched birds chirp for their parents. “They’ll be big enough to fly before we know it,” He tells me.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to fly?” I ask looking at him.

“All the time,” He says. “I wonder what it’s like to soar with the birds and fly through clouds,”

“You’ll probably get wet,” I warn him. “Clouds are water after all,” Warren shrugs.

“Never been afraid of a few rain drops,” He smirks at me. I smile rolling my eyes. I look back at the baby birds.

“Warren! Y/!” Our mother shouts for us again. “Come down from there, it’s time for supper!”

“Can’t she see we’re busy in the tree?” Warren grumbles. I laugh.

“Come on, I’ll race you to the bottom,” I challenge him. He smirks and begins climbing down at the same time I do.

“If I win, I get your ice cream!” Warren shouts.

“Like hell you will!” I shout back.

“Language, Y/n!” Mother scolds.

“Yeah, language, Birdie,” Warren teases.

“Oh, why don’t you- Ah!” I screech when my feet slide off the branch. I go to cling to the tree but I fail to get a grip. Before I can fall too far Warren has my hand in his.

“I’ve got you!” Warren says quickly.

“Don’t you dare drop me, Warren Worthington!” I shout holding his hand as tightly as I can.

“Never,” Warren reassures me with a playful grin before swinging me to the next branch.

1994 - Y/n POV - Y/n is 14

“St. Joes Catholic School?” I ask with disbelief in my voice. “They’ve got to be kidding, right?” I ask my brother as I flop down on his bed. He walks into the room after me and shuts the door.

“I don’t think they are,” Warren says taking a seat at his desk chair.

“Why are they sending us away?” I whisper but don’t expect an answer. In fact, I’m terrified of what the answer would be. Warren stays quiet as he mulls over the information our parents just dropped on us. “We never fit in here,” I admitted whilst sitting up. Warren glances at me. “They may be our parents but we’re practically strangers to them. We share nothing in common with them except some similarities in our looks. We don’t belong here Warren and they know it,” I sigh looking down at my fingers.

I expect Warren to argue against me like he usually does. This isn’t the first time I’ve voiced my opinions on this matter. Ever since I could remember I’ve felt as if Warren and I were outcasts in our own home. Our parents used to try and connect with us but they gave up years ago.

I didn’t even notice Warren standing up until the bed sinks beside me. I spare him a glance before looking back at my hands. We sit in silence for a few moments before I lay my head on his shoulder. His head soon rests on top of mine.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a place where we belong,” He reassures me. “We’ll find a home,” I smile as my mind begins imagining what this home would look like. “It’ll be a place where we do fit in and we’re not strangers,”

“As long as you promise we’ll stay together,” I say lifting my head. Warren looks at me. “Don’t you dare leave me, Warren Worthington,”

“Never,” Warren smirks winking at me. “Lighten up a bit, Birdie,” He says nudging my shoulder. “Who knows, maybe St. Joes Catholic School is where we’ll find people to connect too,” He shrugs.

“It would be nice to talk to someone who doesn’t have your ugly mug,” I comment standing from the bed.

“Well, it shouldn’t be hard for me to find someone who doesn’t crack mirrors when they look in them,” Warren fires back. I don’t dignify him with a verbal response. I simply flip him the bird and leave his room.

1997 - Y/n POV - Reader is 17

“Go Warren! Run!” I scream from the stands as my brother overtakes the lead runner in the track meet. I clap loudly and scream when he takes first place without a problem.

“He won! He won!” My brothers girlfriend, Amanda, shouts from beside me. We jump up and down together before laughing excitedly. 

When the meet ends the two of us instantly go looking for my twin. I weave through the crowd in his direction. Amanda follows me knowing all too well about my inner Warren Compass. It didn’t matter where I was or where he was, we could always find each other. Amanda also swears that we have some sort of telepathy between us or that we could read each other’s mind. While I knew that neither of those things were true, I did have a sixth sense when it came to my brother. Warren has the same feeling about me as well.

“There he is!” Amanda shouts surpassing me to go to her boyfriend. Warren spins around and pulls her into his arms. She giggles as he spins her around. I gag when they romantically kiss.

“Did you see my last run?” Warren asks us.

“Of course, baby,” Amanda smirks leaning into him not even caring about his drying sweat.

“You mean the one where you look like a flailing chicken without a head?” I ask before doing a dramatic imitation. Amanda snorts while Warren lunges for me. I laugh evading his attempts to put me in a head lock.

“Ok! Ok!” Amanda shouts getting between us. “I want to get back to the dorms, get cleaned up, and go to the party,”

“Hell yeah, baby,” Warren smirking lighting up at the mention of a party. Amanda shakes her head wondering where he gets all his energy. It didn’t matter that he just spent all day running, he still has enough energy to take over the world.

It doesn’t take us long to get back to the dorms and cleaned up. Warren promises to meet us at the party before going to take a shower. Amanda and I both go to the bathroom to do our makeup and to get changed.

“Oh my God, is your back ok?” Amanda instantly asks.

“Um, it’s fine?” I say turning towards her.

“Where did you get all of those bruises?” She wonders.

“Bruises?” I ask before going toward the mirror. “Oh, shit,” I whisper seeing them. They weren’t too bad but they were definitely noticeable. 

“What they hell are you doing when I’m not there to supervise you?” Amanda laughs while returning to her makeup.

“I don’t know,” I whisper to myself. I take another moment to stare at the bruises before shaking my head.

A couple weeks pass and the bruises don’t leave. In fact, the grow darker. I take extra care with how I move but it doesn’t matter. The bruising just continues to get worse until things start to get even weirder.

I wake up in my bad with a sore back. That’s nothing new, it’s practically my norm by now. However, waking up to find several feathers in my bed is new. I sit there in confusion as I wonder where the hell these feathers have come from.

“Y/n! Open up!” Warren shouts slamming his fist against my door repeatedly. “Open the door!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” I shout hopping out of bed. He doesn’t stop knocking until I let him in. “What the hell?”

“You’re getting random bruising too?” Warren asks the instant I close my door.

“How do you know about that?” I ask.

“Amanda told me,” He said. I frown my eyebrows wondering why now, all of the sudden, she’s telling him about my bruised back. “She told me because of this,” He takes his shirt off and turns his back to me.

“Jesus, Warren,” I whisper looking at his bruises. They’re similar to mind in shape but they’re much darker and slightly bigger. “Wait,” I whisper stepping closer. I run my finger along a section of his back and he instantly flinches away from me.

“Uh, ow!” Warren snaps.

“Sorry!” I raise my hands defensively. “But you have something coming out of your back,”

“What?” He frowns his eyebrows and I nod. He goes to my full length mirror. He then notices the nubs that I pointed out. “Turn around,” He says coming over to me. I do as he says feeling nervous that he might find the same happening to my back.

“I woke up with feathers in my bed,” I whisper holding back a flinch when he touches my bruises.

“Sorry,” He whispers noticing me tense. “You have the same thing happening,” I slowly turn towards him. “I have feathers in my bed too... I thought they were from my pillows but...” His voice trails off.

“What’s happening to us, Warren?” I whisper. He pushes his lips together.

“I don’t know, Birdie,” He whispers back.

1997 - Y/n POV - Reader is 17

“Warren! Warren, open the door!” I shout pounding on his door like he had mine a week previous. “Warren, I know you’re in there, now open the damn door before I break it down,” I growled hitting the door even harder.

A few moments later my puffy eyed brother opens the door just enough for me to slide in before closing it again. He hangs his head as I stare at him. When he sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve I snap out of my trance.

“Come here,” I whisper pulling him into a tight hug. I frown my eyebrows when I feel something on his back but I don’t pull away. He holds me so tight that it’s hard to breathe but I just hold him. “What happened?” I whisper.

“She kept asking questions,” He tells me after a few minutes. “She kept wanting to know about the bruises and I just... I couldn’t tell her,” I close my eyes and hold him even closer. I try to hold onto him but he pushes me away. “Then this happens,” He whispers sniffling as he takes off his shirt. I look at his chest before giving him a look. He turns around and I gasp.

Two small white wings have sprouted from his shoulder blades. They look like a baby birds wings. Not nearly big enough to fly nor hold his weight. Despite they’re small size they’re beautiful.

Then it clicks. Our backs have been going through the exact same transition. Slowly, I step back to his bad and fall on it. Warren quickly pulls on his shirt again.

“We’re mutants,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” Warren whispers.

“We’re mutants,” I whisper again. Warren sighs walking over to me. The bed bounces slightly when he collapses beside me.

“Yeah,” He repeats. We lay on his bed in silence as we try to come to terms with the... new development. “I quit track,” He tells me. “Not like I’d be able to hide these things at practices and meets... Plus who knows how big they’ll grow,”

“Warren,” I whisper lowly. “St. Joes is notorious for they’re anti-mutant beliefs,” I say slowly turning my head towards him. Warren continues to stare at the ceiling. He lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah,” He mutters.

“Shit,” I whisper.

1998 - Y/n POV - Reader is 18

‘Y/n Worthington,’

I frown my eyebrows as I slow to a walk in the middle of the empty hallway. I look around for the voice who said my name. However, the few people in the hallway pay no mind to me.

‘Y/n Worthington’ The voice says again. ‘My name is Charles Xavier and I am a mutant like you,’

“I don’t find that very comforting at the moment,” I mutter feeling standoffish. I can hear the voice laugh a bit.

‘No, I expect you wouldn’t’ He says. ‘I’ve been looking for you and your brother for a very long time,’

“Where are you?” I ask as I continue to search for him.

‘Not far from the school,’ He responds vaguely. ‘I need you to listen to me. There is someone on campus that wants to hurt you and your brother,’

“Warren,” I whisper no longer caring about this Charles Xavier. The only thing on my mind is finding Warren. Before I could start my wild goose chase the voice in my head tells me exactly where he is. I don’t bother to question him, I simply race to his location. “Oh my God,” I gasp seeing the building is engulfed in flames.

Before I even try to go into the fire something in the sky catches my attention. I then notice it’s Warren trying to save people. Sprinting into action, I leave the crowd. My pure black wings rip through my long jacket and take me to the sky towards my brother.

“There’s more people on the third floor!” Warren shouts over the noise of the crowd.

“There’s someone after us!” I shout to him.

“No shit! Who do you think started the fire?!” Warren snaps.

“Don’t get snippy with me, Angel!” I growl back at him.

“Just get the people out! I’ll handle the guy that’s trying to kill us,” Warren orders. I want to argue but Warren is already flying off and somebody has to get those people out.

My wings carry me into the building. They fold around my body protectively as I crash through a window and land on the hot floor. It takes some convincing but I finally get the people to trust me enough to allow me to get them to safety.

‘You’re brother is a mile to your left,’ Charles informs me. I send a silent thank you before quickly going towards Warren. I get to him in time to see him dropping a man to his death.

“Warren?” I ask slowly flying towards him. My large yet feminine keep me in the air beside my brother. Warren’s head hangs as he stares at the mans dead body on the ground below us.

‘If you both would join me, I’d like to talk with you,” Charles says in my head. I can only assume Warren hears him as well. 

“Angel?” I ask moving even closer to him.

“Let’s just go,” Warren says flying to where Charles wants us to meet him. I glance back to the dead body before flying after my brother.

1998 - Y/n POV - Reader is 18

“Wow,” I whisper walking towards Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

“Aren’t we a little old to be going to a school like this?” Warren asks as we follow behind Charles. I nod along with Warren’s question seeing as we’re both legally adults.

“This isn’t just a school for the gifted but a home,” Charles explains. Warren’s head snaps towards me at the same time mine snaps to him. “Here you can learn different skills you did not learn at your previous school. You will also meet students with various gifts, some like your own,” I slap Warren’s arm when I see a girl fly past us with wings that came off of a fairy. “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish,”

“This place is amazing,” I laugh in wonder. Warren slowly beings to grin which only brightens my mood. Ever since the fire a few days ago, Warren’s smile has been nonexistent. 

“I’ll show you to your rooms, allow you to get settled,”

“Are we sharing a room?” Warren wonders.

“While school is in session, yes,” Charles nods. “But when most of the students return to their homes, you can have separate rooms,” I smile at my brother. Even though I didn’t exactly like sharing a room with him, it would be nice to have him close after someone had tried to kill us.

“Well, it’s not as big as the one at mom and dads but it’s cozy,” I say while walking around the room. Charles had left us to settle in a few seconds ago.

“Do you ever wonder what mom and dad are doing?” Warren wonders while tossing his suit case on one of the beds.

“Angel, they haven’t even contacted us since freshmen year,” I remind him. “The only thing they’ve done is financially support us and even that is over now,” I say sitting on my bed. “I try not to think about them because we don’t need them. We just need each other,” I say smiling at him.

“So, you’re saying I’m stuck with your ugly mug for the rest of my life?” Warren asks with a small smirk.

“Aren’t you a lucky duck?” I wink at him. Warren slowly shakes his head. “What happened?” I finally ask. “With that man that you let go?” My mind goes back to the day with the fire and how Warren had let a man fall to his death.

“I don’t even know his name,” Warren whispers. “Just some anti-mutant man,” He tells me. “He said our wings went against his religion and that we had to die,” I can feel my wings twitch but I don’t say anything. “I had him in my hands and I wanted to turn him into the police but then he went on and on about how he wasn’t just going to kill me but kill you as well... I just got so angry. He talked about how he was going to rip our wings off and rid the world of us. The thought of someone out there that wants to kill you as badly as he did made me so angry. Before I knew it I was letting him go and watching him fall.” Warren explains to me. I stand and walk over to him. Warren looks at me as I sit next to him. “I don’t regret killing him. I feel guilt about the fact that I’m not sad over his death,” He says. “But he threatened you, threatened us...” Warren sighs.

“You don’t have to justify your actions to me,” I tell him. “Warren, I would have done the same thing,” I told him. He glances towards me. “You think your need to protect me is one sided? I’d do anything for you. You’re all I have and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” I tell him. Warren smiles a bit.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Y/n Worthington,” Warren says quietly. I muster up a playful smirk.

“Never,”

2004 - Y/n POV - Reader is 24

“What do you mean they’re shutting the school down?” Warren snapped. “They can’t do that!”

“They can and they are,” Storm, one of the teachers, says calmly yet her eyes are raging in anger. “The students are to be sent back to there homes-”

“Where they’re going to be hunted down and slaughtered in front of their families,” Beast growls. I sigh rubbing my face tiredly.

Years of peace between mutants and mankind destroyed in one weekend. We tried to do damage control but our efforts were in vain. Almost every pro-mutant policy has been taken away. With the government turning their backs against us the radical anti-mutant organizations are rising against us in a dangerous fashion.

It didn’t take a genius to know that a war is on the horizon. This school is one of the only safe places for the students yet we’re being forced to send them away. We’re being forced to send them back to their families where they won’t be nearly as protected as they are now.

We all knew that with the war would come casualties. These extremists aren’t planning on taking prisoners. They see us as anti-human and a threat to the human race. They see us as monsters. They will kill us every chance they get.

“We have to protect them,” I speak up. “They’re children!” I practically shout. “We can’t just leave them to defend themselves,”

“We’re not going to do that,” Jean shakes her head. “We’ve fought for mutants this long, we’re not just going to give up now,”

“Jean’s right,” Storm nods. “There’s a war coming and it’s going to get ugly,” She warns everyone in the room. “But we’ve been through ugly times before. We can get through this if we work together,”

“We’re ready,” Bobby, one of my closest friends, assures her. “You guys have made sure of that. A lot of us are ready to fight,” Warren, me and the other alumni students nod in agreement.

“Professor?” I asks hesitantly. Charles continues to sit in his wheelchair as he goes over everything in his mind. It pained me to see the man who took my brother and I in in such a state of distress.

Warren and I share a nervous look. After years of living life just the two of us, we finally find out home. Not long after that, our home is threatened. It angers me to the core that people think they can threaten my home without retaliation. As far as I’m concerned everyone that lives under this roof is my family and I will do whatever is necessary to protect them, especially my idiotic twin.

“There here,” Charles whispers, his eyes widening. My head snaps to the side as an explosion shakes the Earth under our feet. Warren’s eyes meet mine and dread fills our hearts. The war’s begun.

@akshi8278​

#dean winchester #dean x fem!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #x female reader #sam winchester #winchester #supernatural #spn #x fem!reader #mutant #x-men #marvel #warren worthington iii #wings #crossover #mutant not monster part one #fanfiction #fanfic #spn fanfic #dean x y/n #angel #mutant!reader #x reader #dean x reader

[backtothestart02]

A Weekend of Firsts - 1/? | grandice fanfiction

A/N: Part 1 of my On Set Attraction series (for now). This one will be 2-3 chaps. Not sure yet. For the anon that requested an sdcc hook-up. I hope you enjoy this first part.

...

Synopsis: Grant and Candice get together.

...

Chapter 1 -

SDCC 2014.

The first real large-scale event that The Flash cast attended in preparation for the upcoming season one of their show.

San Diego Comic Con.

Candice was starry-eyed. It had been her first time attending SDCC as someone featured and not just an audience member. She’d secretly attended just for enjoyment’s sake once years earlier, but she wasn’t about to spill that. She was a little embarrassed about how nerdy she’d been, dressing up in cosplay and everything. She was putting that behind her. Now she was a real celebrity – or she was about to be.

Glancing back at Grant on the bus, she felt her cheeks grow hot and quickly turned around. She’d thought to look over to him because he, too, had never attended SDCC as part of a featured cast, but his eyes and his smile had gotten the best of her, and she hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact.

What was the matter with her? She wondered, but it was no secret to herself why her heart started racing and heat filled her cheeks whenever she caught that sexy grin of his.

She had a crush. A big one.

He was single, so it’s not like if she acted on it there would be bad fallout. But it might affect their chemistry onset, which to hear it, was some of the best the casting director had ever seen.

Electric. Show-stopping. Edge-of-your seat. Magical.

She couldn’t risk losing that by confessing her feelings. And besides, she didn’t even know if he felt the same way. His rejection of her alone might affect their chemistry if they couldn’t get past that awkward moment.

No, she was better off keeping this little crush to herself and hopefully getting over it, sooner rather than later hopefully.

She tried to find reasons not to fantasize about what the two of them together romantically might look like. She honestly did. She tried to find flaws in him. Real, honest-to-God flaws that could make her see him more as a friend than a crush.

But it was just so God damn hard.

He was such a flirt, and he focused most of his efforts of her. He’d deliberately run into things to gauge her reaction, and he’d tease her relentlessly. He was funny too, so funny that she found herself laughing long after everyone else had stopped. She’d thought he would think oddly of her for that, but when their eyes met after she’d stopped, he was only ever smiling at her, as if nothing existed for him outside of her.

They shared similar interests too – well, except for the ongoing Superman vs. Batman debate. That would probably never end. But they both loved dogs and video games. She had a few potted plants in her trailer that sometimes she’d come back to see him watering. And his two dogs, Jett and Nora, took to her right away.

They gravitated to each other easily when alone, and his first instinct was to slow dance with her in between takes. She never led him on or tried to get his attention one way or the other. He always came looking for it.

And sometimes, occasionally, she’d catch him checking out her cleavage or her ass when she knew he thought she was unaware. It made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had a thing for her too?

But she never brought it up and neither did he. The cast couldn’t be completely oblivious to their connection though. She hoped they never brought it up to anybody. The last thing she needed was for people to think she was getting attention simply because the leading man was giving it to her.

She was the leading lady though, so was it that hard to believe?

She kept herself in check as best as she could, however. And when the bus finally arrived and they filed out, she made herself focus on what the itinerary of the day was. Well, for the first day it was pretty low key. They just needed to check into the hotel and attend a couple low key events. The real slew of interviews and panels and photoshoots, autographs and more would take place over the next couple days.

Paparazzi lined the walkway, as did some fans who had heard about the show. If they got renewed for another season, she imagined the fans would multiply at events like this. Not that she was hoping for that or even needed it. She was just amazed – still – that she had gotten the part. Her talent and her chemistry with Grant had sealed the deal. She couldn’t be happier.

Once inside the hotel, they got their keys and made their way to their floor. Candice stopped at her door and was about to slide her key in when she heard Grant call out to her.

“Hey, we’re neighbors?”

She smiled tremulously and called back, “Yeah, cool!”

Cool?

She rolled her eyes at herself and got into her suite. She lay on the bed for a while, then peeked outside at the view she had. A busy street. Not the best, but they were in busy San Diego. What did she expect?

She stepped into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Setting out her clothes for the first event, she stripped down, went under the glorious hot water and soaked herself. After she was thoroughly wrinkled, she washed up, then shut off the water, dried herself off, and proceeded to get ready for their night of events.

Alcohol.

She hadn’t thought twice when champagne was offered to her at the first event or the second. She didn’t think she was anywhere near tipsy by the time the after party came around, but she did notice one thing.

Grant was flirting more than usual, and she was flirting back.

Her heated cheeks a faint memory, and her heart racing nothing to the sound of glasses clinking and toasts being made at their first day of SDCC being completed successfully.

Candice couldn’t stop smiling.

She didn’t know where the rest of the cast had gone. They’d all arrived together at the party. But now it was just her and Grant and other people they didn’t know who probably didn’t really know them, what with their show not having aired yet. It was nice to be somewhat anonymous and just having fun without a care.

Minutes ticked away into hours though, and when she looked around she noticed that the place was starting to empty.

She tugged on Grant’s arm and pulled him down to her to whisper into his ear.

“Think we should go?” she giggled helplessly, and he grinned, that sexy smile of his so close to her cheek.

Was it just her or she was getting more drunk and he was getting more sober?

“Yeah, good idea!” he declared, smiling brilliantly.

He leaned across the bar to ask the bartender to call them a cab, even though he had his phone in his pocket. Candice giggled at that but decided not to inform him of his slip-up.

“Do you have money?” she teased, yanking on his arm again and pulling him close.

Grant grinned shamelessly.

“Should I ask him for that too?” He turned toward the bartender. “Hey, dude!”

“No, no, no, shhhh!” She couldn’t stop laughing. “He didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it!”

The bartender continued his call and then gestured towards the door when he was finished. Looping arms, Grant and Candice stumbled slightly on their way out and promptly informed the driver where they were headed. They couldn’t remember the address, but the guy knew his way around the city and was aware of where they were staying.

Candice decided then and there that she wasn’t the only one bordering on drunk instead of tipsy. Grant just did a better job of looking like he was sober. But she was too far from sober to care what he thought about her behavior. Her insecurities were gone.

After paying the driver – miraculously – Grant helped her out of the cab and they fumbled some more getting into the hotel lobby, the elevator, and finally falling out of it when they got to their floor.

“Want to come to my room?” he asked teasingly, raising his eyebrows suggestively. She couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“Sure!” she burst, and skipped down the hall with him, her arm still looped through his when he got his hotel room opened and they struggled to walk inside at the same time.

Finally they unlooped from each other and burst into the room.

“Ooo, this room looks nice,” she commented, taking a gigantic breath. “Looks just like my room!” She giggled profusely again.

He snickered.

“We can go to your room tomorrow!” he declared, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! Aaaand…yes!”

She fell back on the large king-sized bed in the room and stared up at the ceiling. She was shocked to find her reflection staring back at her.

“You have a mirror on your ceiling.” She pouted.

He came to lie next to her after nearly tripping out of his shoes.

“You don’t have one in yours?” he asked, turning to face her.

She turned her head to face him and shook it.

“Uh-uh,” she said, and then made the mistake of dropping her gaze to his lips for a little too long.

“Candice,” he said, and he sounded really sober then it nearly sobered her up.

“Uh-oh.” She sat up quickly. Too quickly. Her head hurt. “Need more alcohol.”

She curled up and off the bed and opened the minifridge in his room where some chilled beers were located.

“Want one?” She held one out to him.

“Okay,” he said.

She grabbed another one for her and handed both to him.

“Can’t open. Too hard.”

She plopped back down on the bed.

He definitely had to be sobering up, because he easily opened both.

“Think we’ll get alcohol poisoning?” she wondered aloud.

He held the beer out to her and hesitated to drink his own. She didn’t though and so he just shook his head and laughed.

“You are the best person I’ve ever met,” he said, setting both their beers on the table.

“Oh, wow. That is really great!” She placed her hands on either side of his head. “I’ve got a crush on you,” she informed him.

“Yeah?” He sounded breathless.

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Biggest crush ever!”

“Me too,” he said back, and it really didn’t register until he leaned in and kissed her without warning.

When he pulled back slowly after she’d responded just a little, he looked deep into her eyes.

“You’re not as drunk as I am,” she accused.

He winced. “I just hold my liquor better.”

She pouted, then got a little angry.

“Were you pretending to be drunk so I’d feel better?”

She felt her insecurities rising and wondered if this was a different kind of drunk.

“No!” he insisted. “I was just being silly, having fun. Sometimes it looks like I’m drunk when I’m just having fun.”

“Oh.”

She leaned back on the bed till her head was nestled nicely on top of two pillows.

“Do you regret coming to my room?” he asked, lightly brushing some of her locks out of her face, dipping his fingers down across her collar bone and along the column of her neck.

He slipped one strap of her dress down her arm to reveal more of her cleavage and then stopped, looking at her looking at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice raspy, and she shook her head.

“No.”

She reached up for him and pulled his face down to hers. Then she kissed him passionately and arched up against him as he climbed on top of her. She allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth and wound her fingers into his spiked, messy hair. His body felt incredible on top of hers, and she wound her legs around his, letting the skirt of her dress hike itself up.

When his hand landed on her bare thigh, she moaned into his mouth, then tipped back her head to give him access to her neck.

“Fuck, Candice, you’re gorgeous.”

She moaned louder when he found the sweet spot on her neck and sucked.

“That feels so good. Keep doing that.”

She bit her bottom lip, feeling her core soak itself through her barely-there panties.

She reached around his back, sunk her fingers into his covered ass, and pressed her body up against his, seeking more.

Then, as if he’d never been there at all, Grant lifted himself off of her and got off the bed. He retrieved a water from the mini fridge and drank half of it.

Candice propped herself up on her elbows.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughed to himself, then turned around.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m sobering up.” She hiccuped.

He came to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, but I’m not drunk at all. Not really. And I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Her eyes widened.

“But I may not want this in the morning! I mean, I may not let myself want it.”

He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

“That’s just a risk I’m going to have to take.”

He got up and held out his hand to her.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.”

She was annoyed, more than annoyed. She was intensely irritated.

But more than both of those things, another feeling rose up inside of her.

Bile.

“Oh, God.”

She quick ran off the bed and went into Grant’s bathroom to vomit into his toilet. When she was done, she could barely stand up.

Grant wet a washcloth and wiped her mouth before gathering her into his arms and taking her down the hall to her room. He tucked her into bed, went to leave and then stopped when he heard her sigh loudly. He turned back to look at the sad expression on her face and braced himself for the words that would follow.

“I suck.” She huffed. “Don’t I?”

“No,” he said. “You don’t suck.” He managed the tiniest smile. “Goodnight, Candice. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He shut the door behind him before she could answer, and she spoke her reply to the darkness.

“Goodnight.”

She paused.

“I suck.”

#grandice #fanfiction #grandice fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #a weekend of firsts #chapter 1 #for anon

[thecomposerofstories]

Information on Amy.

(Be warned it's a ~little bit~ long, any other pieces of information you want to know I'll gladly answer if you ask.)

~General Information~

Fandom: Toy Story.

Name: Amy the Ragdoll.

Nickname, if any: Amy, Ames, and Doll-Face(usually by more villainous characters or used in a joking manner).

Gender: Female.

Sexuality: ??? (I mean I know the gender of who she has a crush on, but I'm unsure on what her actual sexuality should be tbh)

Age: Mentally, mid-twenties in the first story second movie, thirties to forties in the third and fourth. Physically, she doesn’t have an age, but in regards to when she was made (the 1950’s) makes her fifty to sixty.

City they currently live in: San Francisco, apparently that’s where Toy Story takes place.

Any pets: Would Rex count? He just follows her around like a nervous puppy.

Current occupation: I mean she’s practically a therapist, but she’s a toy and she only treats Rex so it probably doesn’t count lol

~Physical Appearance~

Height: 10 inches.

Body type: Stocky, but a bit gangly too, similar to Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Eye colour: Black.

Skin tone: Light.

Clothing style: Pale green/turquoise shirt with short puffed sleeves, with a denim dungaree dress with a daisy print in the centre over it. She wears yellow rain boots.

Hairstyle: No style, it’s just there. It’s messy and gets in her face easily and is made out of dark brown thin string.

~Speech/Language/Communication~

Amy speaks quietly and politely, rambles a bit if left without a reply or under pressure, very nervous in front of intimidating characters.

First language: English.

Learned languages: A bit of Spanish (Ya’ll remember Toy Story 3!)

Accent: American.

Pitch of voice: High, but soft, not quite annoying, unless she’s stressed, then it gets very pitchy and shrill.

~Behaviour/Habits~

Amy tends to just stand there when she can’t find anything to do, and will immediately try to find Rex, Hamm, Buzz or Jessie if surrounded by strangers (Though she’s not sure if it’s for their comfort or her own) Amy is very polite.

Spending habits: She doesn’t like to be made a fuss of at all, the very fact of someone giving something to her is unnerving (even if the thing never costed anything at all) and she feels compelled to give the giver something in return.

Morning routine: She gets up same time as the others, but wishes she could stay in bed a bit longer though. Before she came to Andy’s room, her sleep pattern was all over the place.

Bedtime routine: Similar to above, now she goes to bed the same time as the others, but before she just slept and got up willy-nilly.

Nervous habits: Amy will try to find Rex if she’s nervous, and she’ll pretend it’s because she’s worried for him, which is quite true, but she also just feels most safe with him. Speaking of, Amy will let Rex hold her hand and squish it whenever he or Amy is nervous, it’s calming to the both of them.

Bad habits: Not a very good exerciser, but then again, she’s spend basically half her life in a small attic, so I’ll give her a break.

Skills/talents: She’ very logical, mind-over-matter, (mostly, very good at calming others down and/or convincing them. She’s very good at spelling and knows quite a lot of words, some of which others haven’t even heard of.

Hobbies: Reading, talking (especially with Rex, Jessie or Hamm), and generally just lazing about or walking around somewhere, on her own or with a friend.

~The Past~

Amy’s first owner was a little girl called Alice. Alice loved nothing more than to read Amy stories (Mostly fairy tales), but of course, Alice grew up like all kids do, and she left Amy in the attic for someone else to have her.

Amy waited for many years, and all that time she’d never given up that someone would find her.

She thought she’s hit the jackpot when Andy and his family move into Alice’s old house, but they don’t go up into the attic to collect her. Some weeks later, though, Andy’s mother brings a set of boxes filled with junk into the attic and leaves. Woody, Buzz, Slinky, and Rex were trapped in one of the boxes (Call me a cheater but this part was actually inspired by a Toy Story comic, where those four toys get stuck in the attic that way and have to escape. It struck me odd that they never met at least one new friend there, so I made one. It was also my first story, I needed some inspiration!)

Amy, in a fit of panic, goes and hides.

But then she’s found by Rex as he and the others try to find a way out.

They then decide to let the strange, dust-covered ragdoll come back to Andy’s rom with them. (well, Rex did, anyway.)

Home town: Would Alice’s old room count? But it’s now Andy’s Room, so it won’t count will it?

Happy or sad childhood: Pretty normal to be honest, as normal a life as a toy could have anyway. And as for sadness, having spent all that time on her own for all those years, having missed out on so much, is a little sad. But Amy made sure she never became bitter over it or used it as an excuse for anything.

Earliest memory: Waking up in her toy store, with a friend of hers for company (a ragdoll Prospector, a much as she remembers) and as she gets bought by Alice’s Auntie, she says she hopes he gets picked up by a kid. (Unbeknownst to her, she would meet him again in a while to find out he never got to experience it)

Saddest memory: One, being left by Alice, yet being so happy for her and how much she’s grown up, if she could cry tears of joy for her owner, she would. Two, some (or most) of the days she spent waiting for a new owner to arrive. And three, watching Rex have a mental breakdown of anxiety.

Happiest memory: One, the time she and Alice went to the park, (Amy absolutely adores nature) Two after sliding down a drainpipe to get to Andy’s room, and three, having known she’d helped her friend out.

Significant events: Being bought, being left in an attic, being rescued from the attic, while gaining some new friends.

~Family~

The entirety of Andy’s room, whether they like it or not, they’re all in this together and are some kind of mish-mash, found family in a sense.

Siblings: I’ve been thinking of giving Amy a brother (since I based her on Raggedy Ann, a matching bootleg Raggedy Andy seems reasonable) bur I’m unsure about it, since I’ve already mapped out Amy’s entire series of stories (Around six or seven all together, so far I’m currently writing only the third) and I can only fit him in the fifth or sixth if I can.

~Relationships~

Romantically? I’d like to say she has a crush on Rex, I don’t know why I thought of it, I was contemplating it one day as I sketched a rough (and terrible) sketch of her, and I drew Rex too because he’s just so fun to draw and I wanted to make a scale for Amy’s size, and one of my friends (who had been watching me) immediately said “I ship it!�� and well, the rest is history, I made the decision to ship it too.

Friends: Jessie, Hamm, Buzz, and Rex are her closet friends, but she’d like to say that all the Gang are her friends. Later on she becomes good friends with Mr. Prickle Pants, Buttercup, Trixie and Totoro, and she absolutely loves the peas and Forky.

Best friend(s): Hamm, Mr. Prickle Pants, Jessie, and Rex.

What do people like about them? Amy’s pretty easy to talk to, she’s polite and attentive and will sit in companionable silence with someone if they need it. But she won’t hesitate to give hard truths and advice if it’s needed.

What do people dislike about them? Amy is quite a doormat, if someone is rude to her or breaches anything she just lets it happen, and sometimes she’s too indecisive about her own stuff, unsure whether she’s going to offend others or not over the smallest things, which annoys others quite a bit.

~Mentality/Personal Beliefs~

Amy is a toy of logic, and though she believes others can do it if they set their minds to it, she doesn’t quite believe in herself. She believes she must follow the rules of being a toy at all times, no matter what.

Phobias: Dust. She hates it. It took a good five weeks to brush all the dust out her hair and clothes, and even so there’s still some in her pockets and places she can’t reach. And being alone, too. Now she can’t be alone for more than an hour before she starts to get antsy and nervous. And for a short time books gave her a strange tiredness, after reading them for so long and for so many years she couldn’t even stand the sight of them.

But of course, not for long, since Amy found out Andy had a copy of Red’s Dream by a Mr. William Reeves.

Optimist or pessimist: Depends on the situation really, if her mind can’t come up with a solution, then there’s no point in trying anymore. Unless someone else can think of something, that is.

Personal philosophies: “You are here to make good things happen. No person here is made for one reason only, or even only one. There’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not just for the attention of others, no matter how cool they are. We should find are own meaning, as we’re the only ones who have control of it.

It’ll take a while, but I swear, it’ll be worth it.”

Biggest dream/wish: Amy wants nothing more than to find meaning for herself, but finds it rather hard to do so. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll settle for someone else’s meaning. As cheesy as it sounds, she just wants an adventure. She doesn’t necessarily want to be the hero, though, she’s just happy to go along with the ride so long as it gets her out the house for a few hours. She also, above all else, wants Rex to find meaning too, even if she never does, it would be nice to know that he had.

Greatest strength(s): Persuasion, story-telling, logic, and good grammar.

Biggest flaw: Despite being a ragdoll, Amy can’t sew because of her fingerless hands, which are just soft mittens in shape. Amy is also quite a doormat, as I said before, so if her calm persuasion and reasoning doesn’t work, she’s left to be walked all over.

Regrets: Staying in that dratted attic too long, the window was open, she could’ve just climbed out, but no, she had to stay there for some mind-rotting decades. But if she had just escaped, she would never have met her new friends. Amy just wishes she had met them a lot sooner.

Achievements: Escaped the attic, slid down a drainpipe, leapt onto the windowsill (though nearly knocking Woody and Buzz over in the process) stopped her friend from having a panic attack, and managed to remember the entire Dictionary and is able to recite it down from A to Z, and even Z to A.

Secrets: Not much, just strange feelings for one of her friends, but it’s not much of a secret, Bo knows, and Mr. Potato Head and Hamm could see it from a mile away, and the others have their suspicions.

Goals: Read the entirety of Andy’s (and later Bonnie’s) bookshelves, become more confident in herself, have her own book-worthy adventure, and figure out what those strange feelings for her friend is.

~Likes/Favourites~

Favourite colour: Even before meeting Rex, Amy’s favourite colour was always green. Every time Alice had taken her to the park, Amy adored watching the sunlight pour through the leaves with a golden-green glow.

Favourite book(s): Because it’s sentimental to her, being her owner’s favourites, she loves Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and The Wizard of Oz. They all hold similar plots (a little girl in a blue dress goes to a fantasy land, has a few adventures, and then leaves said fantasy land to go home to her family and responsibilities) but it reminds Amy of her old owner Alice (who was actually named after Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland) and their playtimes together.

Favourite Book Quotation(s):

“Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.”

“There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is facing danger when you are afraid.”

Favourite movie: Amy does much prefer books, since they allow her to imagine the setting and characters in her own way, but doesn’t mind movies, and isn’t picky on what they watch, though she does quite like horror films.

Favourite song: Amy likes any kind of music, new or old.

Favourite game: Amy never really cared for games, the competitiveness always bothered her and stressed her out. But she’s more than happy to watch Rex play his video games and cheer him on.

~Relationships with other characters~

~Rex~

- Hit it off pretty quickly.

- Amy helps him with his anxiety, and helps him find confidence in himself, she acts as a certain therapist to him.

- Both become very stressed without the other around.

- Rex will hold and knead at Amy’s hands sometimes; it calms him down.

- Rex will let Amy ride on his back if she’s tired or needs to see something (Because she’s so short).

- One of them can basically be talking about the most boring-est things ever, yet still the other will hang on to their every word.

~Jessie~

- Became friends pretty quickly.

- Will drag Amy along anywhere.

- Get along fairly well.

- Jessie does the talking and Amy does the planning.

- Jessie always pranks the other toys and makes Amy tag along (along with Hamm).

- Introvert/Extrovert dynamic for sure.

- Both were left in alone for years so like to find solace in each other.

~Hamm~

- Hamm begrudgingly warmed up to the timorous ragdoll.

- Surprisingly good pals.

- Have full conversations without saying anything.

- Like to sit and look out of the window together.

- Hamm makes Amy laugh when she really shouldn’t (mainly when he makes fun of the other toys, mainly Woody).

- Hamm makes fun of Amy having a crush on Rex every once in a while, though he doesn’t mean any harm.

~The Potato Heads~

- Mr. doesn’t really interact with Amy much, but finds her surprisingly tolerable, if a bit high-strung and annoying.

- Like Hamm, Mr. makes Amy laugh at the most wrong moments.

- She and Mrs. Are quite good friends, and she sometimes lets Amy take care of the aliens if she and her husband are busy.

~Woody~

- Are aquianteces.

- Don’t exactly interact much, even though the whole room practically revolves around him, in Amy’s opinion, though she would never say it to his face.

~Buzz~

- Amy thinks he’s super cool (then again, he is Buzz Lightyear, he practically invented coolness)

- Both are just as clueless as one another when it comes to social cues and interactions.

- Amy helps him with vocabulary and spelling every once in a while.

~Mr. Prickle Pants~

- Are absolute BFF’s.

- Go back and forth with book quotes to the point of driving the other toys insane.

~Bo Peep~

- Amy's not exactly sure if Bo has befriended her or not.

- (She has)

- They later become good friends.

- Amy misses their talks, Bo was one of the only toys she could talk to that could keep a secret.

#amy the ragdoll #toy story #oc #toy story oc #character information #original character #oc's #ocs #character development #fan character

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Homework | JJ Maybank

Warnings? None? Swearing 

Requested? Nope 

Summary: JJ distracts you from your homework 

Word Count: 1,898

“Okay but I should seriously get going,” you tell the rest of the pogues while standing. 

“No!!” JJ and Kie whine out and you smile down at them. 

“I still have homework to finish and unlike some people,” you say turning to John B. “I wanna pass high school.” 

“Ouch,” he says, placing a hand over his chest and fake crying. You stick your tongue out at him and the two of you end up laughing together. 

“I’ll come with. I still have English homework I need help with,” Pope says standing to accompany you. 

“Nerds,” JJ remarks and you roll your eyes. 

“Well, this nerd is gonna leave with her actual best friend,” you respond before gesturing for Pope to follow you. 

“Ah ah no no hold on!” 

Before you can get too far, JJ wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you back to him. Your hands land on his chest as his arms circle your waist effortlessly. He stares down at you before pressing his lips to yours making you weak at the knees. 

“Gross!” John B yells. 

“Get a room!” Kie joins.

You two break apart, smiling wide at each other and you lean up to peck his lips once more. 

“Love ya.” 

“Love you too,” you respond. 

You break from his grip and join Pope once more and head out from the secluded area to your car and start home. 

Ever since joining the pogues, you and Pope had become the resident “nerds” or “bookworms” of the group. You two were always studying together or working hard to get your grades up. You helped him with English and he helped you with Math. You worked as a team and did well. 

Your parents had always encouraged you to do well in school. They reminded you almost every day that if you succeeded, you’d get into a good college, get a scholarship, and be set for life. That’s why you and Pope had bonded pretty quickly. You understood the struggle of needing to get good grades for your future and dealing with strict parents on top of it. 

You both also agreed that the pogues were weirdly a good influence on the both of you sometimes. If the two of you hadn’t found them, you would have most likely spent your high school years locked in your room or a library studying and getting homework done aside from working with Pope at the shop. 

You were especially grateful for meeting JJ, your “bad influence”. On the outside, you two looked like total opposites, you working hard to get good grades and succeed. Everyone looked at JJ as a slacker, the one who didn’t care and was gonna end up working dead-end jobs or like his dad. 

JJ was your world and you always knew he could do amazing things no matter what. If he wanted to stay on the cut and work then you’d be next to him. If he wanted to do more, you’d be there. He was never a slacker or a bad influence to you. 

However, you balanced each other out and brought out the best in each other. He inspired you to let loose every once in a while and enjoy your teen years. You reminded him to take things seriously when it’s important. 

“So what English work do you have?” You ask Pope when you get back to your house. 

“I started writing my essay for my scholarships but I need someone to read it over,” he explains. 

The two of you set to work, you checking Pope’s essay and him reading through your math answers before coming back and slowly showing each other the corrections and how to do them correctly. 

As you work silently, you hear a clicking noise near your window causing the two of you to look up. You pause for a moment when it happens again. You drop your books on your bed and stand up to walk over to your window. When you push back the curtain, you see JJ beneath it smiling widely. 

“Oh my god,” you say rolling your eyes. At this, Pope stands and joins you at your window. 

“He does know you have a front door right?” He asks and you laugh and shake your head. 

“He really should.” 

“I think that’s my cue,” Pope decides. He gathers his stuff and with a quick hug and a promise he’ll text you when he gets home, he heads off. 

Once he’s gone, you pull open your bedroom window and JJ is still grinning below it. He scales his way up the two stories clumsily before he’s landed on your bedroom floor and you’re giggling loudly at him. 

“I have a front door,” you say in-between laughter. 

“Yeah but this way is so much more romantic,” he insists, pulling you in and you smile while wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He pecks your lips affectionately and your heart is soaring instantaneously. You pull him back into you for a long kiss and his arms wrap tighter around your waist as he leads you over to your bed.  

You fall onto your bed with a soft thud and JJ is quick to climb on top, hovering just over you. His hands fall just next to your face as he leans down to connect your lips once more. You instinctively lift your hands to slide through his blonde locks as the kiss deepens. 

You wake up the next day tangled in JJ’s embrace. One leg thrown over his waist while your arm is wrapped loosely around his chest. His arm comes down your side resting lightly, his fingers tangled in your hair. 

“Hi baby,” he whispers when he sees you awake. You tilt your head up and he leans down to peck your lips before a soft smile settles there. 

“Hi J,” you respond. “Did I wake you?” 

“Nah,” he says lifting a hand to run through your hair. 

You two stay in that position for what seems like ages drifting in and out of sleep and trading lazy kisses like it’s your job until eventually you’re interrupted. Your phone rings loudly from your nightstand and you pick it up to hear John B’s voice on the other line. 

“Hey is JJ with you?” he asks before letting you greet him. 

“Where else would he be?” You ask and JJ smirks next to you. 

“Alright sassy, tell him to meet me at the docks in 15?” 

“John B-“ you start but he’s already hung up. You place your phone back on the nightstand before dropping down next to your boyfriend and sighing. 

“Docks in 15?” JJ asks tracing patterns on your arms as he talks. 

“Yup. But he only asked for you?” 

“Weird. I’ll be back later okay?” he asks and you pout at him. 

“Hour or two tops,” he promises before leaning in for a long kiss. 

You smile halfway through it making you two break apart and JJ finally gets up. He grabs his phone and throws on his shoes before pecking your lips once more and finally heading out. 

Once he’s gone, you debate on what to do for the rest of the day but decide on getting ahead on some reading and writing for class. As you start your work, you become enveloped in it, not paying attention to much going around you as you usually do. 

“(Y/N)!! Pope’s here!” You’re pulled out of your work when Pope comes strolling into your room and falls onto your bed. 

“I think if I have to read anymore Shakespeare without your help I’ll die,” he says dramatically and you laugh. 

“Romeo and Juliet?” 

“Oh Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo?” he quotes throwing a hand on his forehead and now you’re really losing it. 

“Damn you should have done drama, not math club.” 

“Shut up,” he says smiling as wide as you are. 

You two sit next to each other on your bed sorting through the play and the meanings and symbols throughout. As you work you’re entranced by the archaic language while Pope is frustrated. Just when you think he’s about to explode, his phone rings. 

“What’s up JJ?” he asks and you look up at the sound of your boyfriend's name. 

“Kegger? Really? Alright, I'll be down in like 5.” 

Pope hangs up the phone and closes the play causing you to frown as you were getting to your favorite part. 

“JJ wants us to go to a Kegger we’re apparently throwing tonight,” Pope explains putting on his shoes. 

“Ugh,” you groan. The last time you had gone to one of the pogues famous keggers you ended up throwing up for hours and half-dead in the morning. Oh, and your parents found out. 

“There’s no way I’m going. I’ll see you later?” 

“You sure?” Pope asks, surprised to not see you going. 

“Definite. Call me when you get home safe.” 

Pope heads out with one last unsure glance and you lay back down for a minute before deciding to get up and finish the essay you were working on. Not a few minutes later though, you’re interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” 

“Darling,” you hear your boyfriend's familiar voice and look up to see JJ with a pout on his lips. 

“Why aren’t you coming to the party?” 

“Cause I wanna finish this and you know what happened last time,” you remind him. 

“Please,” he whines, dragging out the e and you roll your eyes. 

“Nope,” you say and turn back to your computer defiantly. 

You hear JJ sigh from behind you and for a second you think he’s gonna leave. However, he comes up behind you, hands landing on your shoulders and trailing down to your fingertips before going back up again. You shiver slightly at the contact but try to remain focused as he continues trailing his hands up and down your arms. 

As his left-hand reaches your shoulder again, he carefully pulls your hair together in one hand and pushes it to the side. Your loose t-shirt exposes your shoulder and neck to him and he trails his hands up and down once more before leaning down to wrap his arms around you. 

His lips ghost over your shoulder before pressing light kisses across and down your shoulder blade. At this point you’re completely at his will, lost in his touch and all senses are directed towards him. His kisses continue to trail downwards until he drags them back up and hits your neck. 

He carefully tilts your head to the side, completely exposing your neck to him as he presses light kiss after light kiss up and down before hitting your sweet spot and you let out a moan. 

Finally, you can’t take it and you turn towards him, pressing your lips to his which he meets eagerly. He dominates the kiss, pushing you back towards your desk as he snakes an arm around your waist. 

When you break apart, you’re absolutely breathless and certain you have at least a hickey or two from your beloved boyfriend. He smirks at the sight in front of him before standing and fixing his shirt. 

“We can finish this after the party,” he says and winks at you. 

“Fuck,” you whisper but get up and follow him regardless, your homework long forgotten. 

#jj maybank #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #john b routledge imagine #kiara carrera imagine #pope heyward imagine #outer banks imagine #obx #obx imagine #imagine #bravebesson

[shadowsfascination]

Shadamy Swordland | Ch 2 | Sacred Arts

“I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth on the count of three, but you’re not to make a sound! We wouldn’t want to draw any attention to us, now do we, lass?”” The stranger now held a dagger dangerously close to her throat. Amy felt the cold steel against her skin and didn’t dare exhale too deep, terrified it’d cut into her flesh. Unable to nod in agreement, she could only widen her eyes in good hopes the other understood. “One… Two… Three.” She felt the gloved fingers slide away from her now dry mouth. Automatically she gasped and panicked, the sharp lines of the dagger pressing into her throat with every shallow breath. “Good girl. Now, let’s have a chat.” The other said, stepping in to face her, still holding the dagger in place. Amy looked up in astonishment to a creature with a sensual vibe over her. Their manner of speech aligned with the smug grin on her face. She wore a dark coat with fabric that seemed to hug her body in a way that barely left anything to the imagination, her sharp shaped wings the only thing uncurved about her physique. How could she have missed her when she scanned the place? “Then talk!” Amy snarled.

She tried to keep her voice down. The woman pulled back the hood of her coat onto her shoulders, revealing her white skin and big ears. Her lips were full and her two sharp canine tooths drew Amy’s attention.

“Why so rushy? Oh, that’s right! You have to get back to your dorm in time so they won’t notice you’re gone. Imagine all the rumours you’d cause!”

“If you’re so worried about my reputation, you could let me go, you know?”

The bat suppressed her tendency to mockingly laugh in her face and shifted the dagger to her slightly press into Amy’s muzzle.

“You’re too naïve. Ah, where are my manners?! I haven’t introduced myself to you yet.”

“I’ve been wondering about your manners as well.” Amy angrily hissed at her.

“You don’t want to go down that road with me, dear.” Her voice turned dark and serious. “On the topic of manners: it is wildly indecent that a member from a low-rank family such as yourself is in a romantic relationship with a high-ranked knight, who happens to be your trainer as well.”

A cocktail of frustration, fear and disgust roared inside her, sending tremors to her limbs. If she weren’t tied up, she’d teach this woman a lesson.

“…And quite a passionate one I must say.” The bat lowered her eyelids and locked eyes with her, clearly trying to get under her skin. Amy felt her cheeks redden in both embarrassment and anger, feeling exposed and violated by how much this stranger knew about her and Shadow. “H-how much do you know?”

“More than enough to offer you a deal.” “Let’s hear it.” Amy said unwillingly. She added scepticism to the tone in her voice.

“Rouge!”

Shadow rushed in without warning and knocked her over with force, taking both of the females by surprise. He pushed the bat down, one of his hands clenched around her neck, the other pointing out his magnificent sword at her. She struggled to escape his hold and failed, but still managed to cock a smile, unnerving Shadow and Amy.

“So, you’re coming to save the day after all, my lord.” ‘They seem to know each other,’ Amy quietly muttered to herself. “Cut it out!” Shadow yelled angrily. He increased his grip on her. “Are you hurt?” Shadow asked his student. She shook her head at him, never been more relieved to see him. His courtesy towards her sent a rush of adrenaline to her chest. She watched how he confidently moved to master his opponent with his muscular arms. Amy loved how strong and masculine he was, but was suddenly alarmed when she saw this ‘Rouge’-woman seriously struggle to breathe.

“H-hear me out, Shadow!”

“You’re unreliable and corrupt to the core! Give me one reason why I would listen to you!”

A series of coughs and grated voice followed from her almost clenched shut throat in attempt to get him to listen to her. They turned into background sounds when his girlfriend called him to order, afraid he’d push it too far. The grip on her neck reduced at once, grasping both of her wrists instead now. Shadow then lost his balance when she suddenly disappeared underneath him and he tumbled unto the floor. That darn bat with her endless number of spells!

“My, my. It seems you have forgotten how well I know my ways around the sacred arts there, knight.”

Rising to already to lash at her again, he was dumbfounded when he turned around. His girl gasped and let out a high-pitched squeak, seeing how the dagger of the woman lightly scratched her neck. He sighed and lowered his sword. “Put it in the sheathe!” Rouge ordered. Reluctantly he obeyed.

How things could become this ugly in so little time?

“Talk.” He sneered at her, crossing his arms.

“Here’s the deal: you two are going to help me out. I’ve had enough of being an outcast! My clan is on the edge of perishing. There’s not enough food, we’re poor and being used as a doormat, looked down upon and being abused way too long now!”

“How is that our problem?” “I’ll tell you: It became your problem the minute your self-discipline failed you and ya couldn’t keep your hands of this one here.”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed, disgusted by the way she portrayed him, but didn’t bother to go against it. “But of course, that all depends on how determined you are on keeping this a secret, Shadow.”

“That’s dirty! You are just loving this, aren’t you?” “You think you know me so well! I wished I wouldn’t have to do this, but I have no choice. I have to find the gemstone!” “It’s always been about luxury and prestige with you. If you’d ask me, you got what you deserved.” “Well, I am in fact not asking you, so keep your rude opinion to yourself. This isn’t about jewellery! I’m at the point where I can’t even feed my children properly anymore!”

His eyes widened in shock. He didn't know that she had kids now. “If I had simply asked for your assistance, you would’ve for sure rejected my request- that is IF you even were to hear me out in the first place. There’s no other way for me to get what I want but to blackmail you. Am I wrong?” Rouge’s bright blue orbs glistered even more brightly through the tears that filled her eyes. Amy couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. “Probably not.” He scratched the squills on his head in discomfort. “There’s someone who can help me and my clan to get out of this horrible situation. I need to bring him the infamous turquoise gemstone for his plans to work and the two of you are going to help me, seeing how you’re able to perform special skills and all…”

Shadow seemed to understand what she was talking about.

“What gemstone?”

“Oh, you haven’t told her? This ought to be even more interesting than I thought.”

“The special skill I performed earlier is only a sacred art spell. It’s no big deal.” Amy stated in confusion.  She did not understand what was so special about it.

“And what do you think is the source of the power allowing you to do so?” “I haven’t given it much thought actually.”

“Well then, I’ll assume you are familiar with the legend of the gemstone that was used by greedy men with a thirst of power to let destruction befall our realm in the past. The one they tell you scary tales about in kindergarten, the one which’s tremendous power is a great taboo and the use of it a violation of the law.”

Amy nodded. “That’s the one.”

“That makes no sense! It’s supposed to be sealed away in a faraway kingdom. There’s no way that could be the source of power providing us the magic of the sacred arts.”

“That’s what they want you to believe.” She pointed in the direction of the academy. “Wherever that blasted stone is located, its’ range of power has an enormous scale. Its’ influence reaches our realm, providing a mysterious power, a power all the sacred arts are based on. In fact, you’re not that different from me, a dark mage.” …

“Especially him. He seems to know his way around spells I can’t even decode, let alone perform.” “Nonsense! Shadow would never use dark magic!” “It is in fact true, Amy.” Shadow heaved a sigh. He grunted and let out a soft curse under his breath, shifting his gaze away from Amy when he saw the painful look on her face. This was not the way he wanted her to find out about this.

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?!”

“I didn’t exactly have the time, now did I? Tonight’s the first time I have ever performed a sacred art spell around you. It’s complicated…”

“I’m listening…” “As much as I’d love to listen to the two of you argue, the sun is about to rise. Once your secret is out, you’ll be useless to me,” Rouge interfered. Shadow and Amy shared a glance, silently admitting they did not have a choice but to help her. He unfolded his arms and held out his hand to the bat.

“Wonderful! We’ll meet again here tonight an hour past curfew. Don’t be late.”

Shadow ignored her, hating to be ordered around by anyone but Amy and long wishing for this nightmare to be over. He walked up to Amy and untied her to rub her sore hands, only shifting his gaze up to hers once. She kept eyeing him in a mad way and he knew that look on her face meant trouble for him. “Now warp her back to her dorm so she’ll be back in time, will ya?” “Just because we’ll be working together does NOT mean you are to interfere in our relationship. Stay out of it!” “Heh!” the bat cocked a self-complacent smile. “Relationship…Who would’ve thought?” She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders in disbelief and closely walked past them to the ladder, briefly touching Amy’s shoulder. “You’re his weak spot, lass. The only one I could ever find,” Rouge whispered.

The bat spread her wings and flew off into the distance leaving a beaten, chagrined Shadow behind with an upset Amy. Shadows hopes on a calm, peaceful day evaporated like snow on a sunny day when he realized he yet had to spend the day practicing swordfights with her. Reading someone wasn’t one of his qualities, but her offended mood was so evidently present, there was no doubt he misunderstood this time. She brushed off the dust and straw, dressing herself in her cloak. Arms crossed and boldly making him catch her gaze before she left, she made him a wordless promise: she would not go easy on him.

Fire and torments, this is not happening!

_______________________________________

< Previous chapter: read here.

> Next chapter: read here.

________________________________________

My head’s been feeling a little fuzzy over the last few days. I have no idea if this is a good follow-up to the oneshot right now xD Let me know your thoughts and whether you would like a third chapter(: I have written the draft for that already.  Send me a PM for typo’s, ideas or feedback if you will. I am an amateuristic writer and English is not my native langauge^^’ LOL.

#Shadamy #shadamy fanfic #shadamy fanfiction #chaos energy #swordland au #shadamy swordland au #shadamy swordcraft au #shadamy swordfight #swords #sonic swords #sonic related #sonic au #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #Amy Rose the Hedgehog #Amy Rose #shadamy lovestory #shadow and amy #shadow x amy #Shadowsfascination #my writing #rouge the bat

[honeytama]

Emergency Contact

Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) X Fem!Reader

A/N: This was so fun to write! I’m loving the idea of phone sex right now, but also the idea of subby Spinner. So why not both? Here’s another fic about my favorite! Tagged: @knifeewifee​

Summary: Spinner phone calls his sweet girlfriend late one night to update her on his trip. The next morning, he gets a surprise visit.

Warnings: Smut (18+), established romantic relationship and pet names, cussing, praise kink, JOI (jerk off instructions), masturbation, oral (giving), riding

Word Count: 4.3k

Spinner lays against a plush comforter on the bed of a private hotel room with a throw blanket wrapped around his sore legs soothing him to relax after a long day of fighting. Although, the bed still feels less warm without his most favorite person in the world there with him. His favorite person even compared to the man that inspired him to fight for a greater cause; the entire reason he was away from you right now.

He sticks his neck out every day for his comrades and the people around him so that they’ll eventually have a life better than the one dealt to them. And you’re on his mind the entire way through. He slings his arm over his face, resisting the urge to call you and risk distracting him from the League’s current mission.

Spinner lays thinking about how your body would feel against him, how you would probably be eating room service dessert with him right now, and then seducing him with whipped cream upon your lips enough to get him fucking your supple body into the memory foam mattress. He could even imagine you ordering a breakfast spread the morning after; knowing you so well.

These thoughts that flood his head and warm his face convince him to dig out his cell phone from his sweatpants’ pocket. He taps to your contact and calls, hoping you would pick up soon. There isn't any time difference, right?

—

You sit at your desk working on an assignment for your job, your face leaning in your palm as you click through tens of slides. Honestly, you didn't have to be working that late into the night, but it felt better to have a task to distract yourself from your best friend and lover is away. Within the time you’ve been an item, this incident has only come up a couple times, so it's been difficult to understand the empty feeling you experience in bed each night passing.

Suddenly, your phone starts to buzz against the hardwood of the desk. Picking your hand up from your computer mouse, you flip the phone over to check the contact. Your eyes widen and your shoulders perk up to the name written across the screen. You immediately hit the answer button and lift it to your ear.

“Hi, love,” a smile beaming across your face. “Are you alright?” your excited expression slightly falters when you realize he might be calling as an emergency. Maybe he’s hurt?

“Yeah, yes, I’m just fine, sweetie, hey,” he responds quickly to ease your nerves. “I just wanted to call and catch up while I can. I miss you so much, Y/N.” His voice dancing through the speaker directly into your ear makes him feel closer than he actually is. It’s lower than usual, so probably a mix of the microphone filtering and exhaustion from a long day. Either way, the vibrations of his gruff tone send waves of satisfaction down your spine.

“It feels so good to hear your voice, babe.” you lower your voice to a comforting whisper. “So, what’s up, how’s everything going?’ You move from your desk chair and shut off your computer, deciding to move all of your attention to him.

“It‘s been a lot of work, but everyone here is putting in their best effort,” you hear him say as you climb into your shared bed to rest against the mountain of throw pillows stacked across the headboard. Spinner feels his throat tighten recognizing the sound of the rustling sheets beneath your body. His attention being interrupted by the thought of watching you crawl across the mattress in those mini pajama shorts you usually wear to bed. The cups of your ass showing proudly to him as you sway your hips to tease him before you lay close together. “Actually, speaking of them,” he continues. “We were put up in a hotel for the night and I actually got a suite to myself. Could you believe it, baby?” he laughs softly.

You position yourself snugly into your usual side of the bed. It feels more comfortable to leave his space open, especially when you can still smell his scent on the pillows and favorite blanket beside you. “Oh my god, the League of Villains gets to spend a night in a swanky hotel! That’s so nice, love. I hope you’re enjoying it, I wish I could be there with you,” you gush.

“I know, it would be so amazing if you could come along with me. But, I don't want you to get hurt over my job. That would kill me,” as always, you hear the compassion in his voice that comes whenever he talks about protecting you from his actions.

“I understand, cutie, it’s okay,” you smile. “But, you know I am strong enough to take on some of the people you fight, even without huge muscles like yours,” you tease, your subconscious pushing you to change the subject to something more erotic. You silently hope you could ease his tensions about his dangerous lifestyle. Being alone gives you way more time to wonder about what will happen once he returns, but sometimes it’s even more fun to be impatient.

“C'mon,” he groans. “Don’t say it like that, sweetheart,” laughing as his hand runs through his loose hair. “I still have a few more days out here without you. And, uh, tonight’s the only night I have privacy… It’ll be the only time I’ll get to, ya know…”

“What, I totally wasn’t coming onto you? I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I was just complimenting the talent of my hard-working boyfriend,” you tease, waiting to pull your favorite reaction from him.

“I definitely wouldn't mind having you come onto me right now,” your touch starved boyfriend says in a low voice, slightly embarrassed by his forwardness. Since being experienced before you, an ounce of attention towards his hormonal brain sends him wanting loads more.

Jackpot.

“You would love it if I came onto your face, huh, love?” you breathe out, a wide grin holding residence on your face.

“Holy shit, yes baby,” he chokes out. His empty hand is already roaming down his abdomen in anticipation.

“Or, my slick easily running down my thighs onto you after both of your cocks stretch me to my limit…” you tantalize, testing the waters for how far he wanted to go.

A low, long groan sounds into your ear. Spinner slowly rocks his hips upward in frustration, his palm finally reaching the top of his prominent bulge.

“If you’re wearing it, pull your tank off, Shuichi,” you gently command.

“Shi-,” he attempts to pull his top off with one hand, but the action taunts him when he realizes to pull it off with both. Removing his hand from his pants, he pulls the tank over his head and shucks it to the corner of the room. The second his attention is back on you, he turns his phone to the speaker to set it on his pillow. Both hands are fully free now. “Love, what are you wearing right now?”

“One of your extra tanks and some soft teeny shorts. Why?” acting oblivious to the actual meaning of his question.

“God, those shorts, I might have been thinking you- in them,” he breathes out. “Could I see? Send a pic, or we could video call. Fuck, anything,” he groans impatiently.

You smile to yourself as he admits to being needy, and it only encourages you to brave up and push into the mood more. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll send you whatever you’d like. Right now you’re just going to listen to my voice and follow exactly what I say for you to do. Deal?” You drop your voice into a sultry tone.

“Deal. I’d do anything,” Shuichi whines.

“Ok,” you pull away from the phone to take deep breaths before continuing. “Relax and lay back.

Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“With one hand, massage your hard-on over your pants. And with your other… pretend it’s mine as you trail over your stomach,” you instruct sensually.

Spinner follows your words carefully as he grinds his palm into his groin. His fingers wrap roughly around the circumference of the prominent outline in his pants trying to add friction to his prick that rests underneath layers. His other palm slides against his abdomen to lightly caress the muscle beneath it.

Imagining him in such a position, you pull your hand to one of your breasts and roll a nipple between your fingers. The thin material of the tank top is the only thing stopping you from feeling the soft skin of your chest. You set the phone down on the bed on the speaker, and continue your ministrations. “My hand is running against each of your abs, my fingers tracing the intricate grooves made by your scales. You have the hottest body, Shuichi,” you moan into the phone as you begin to pull your shorts down your legs.

“Mmm,” he moans involuntarily. “Ah- tell me, are you- touching yourself, too?”

“You’ll find out eventually,” your tease happily. “Tonight’s about you, and I'm sure you're following my instructions to the letter. Right? Because if not, remember, you won’t be getting any proof of how wet my pussy is tonight.”

“Shit, when you talk like that, I- I can’t- I can’t handle it, Y/N,” he whimpers.

“Well, I really want to see how long you can last, Spinner,” you say pulling your top over your head. “So, you can take your cocks out, now.” He groans as he quickly tugs his sweatpants down his thighs. Both weeping pricks springing free from against the right waistband. Precum clings to his pants creating thin, sticky ropes of a clear liquid that make a mess of his lower stomach. “I'm sure they kinda hurt from throbbing against your pants, aching for some relief. Would you like some relief, sweetie?

“Yea-yes, Y/N,” he stutters.“Please, let me touch myself.”

“Hmm, you may, but just one. Don’t dare try to wrap your fist around both of them.” your voice is low. You lay in bed in only your underwear and quietly pull them to the side to give your clit some relief of its own.

“Ahh, Y/N,” Shuichi moans while stroking his thick cock languidly, tossing glances at his other cock leaking precum against his pubis. “You would give me head if you were here right? You know I can’t stand the teasing when we’re face to face. This feels so- so different. God, you’re so- ah- hot.”

Both of you, especially Spinner, are usually shy about sexual advances in person, so trying this new way of sending sexy messages felt so good. “Mmm, Shuichi,” you breathe out. Your fingers lacing through your slicked folds while you listen to the clicking of each of his jerks through the phone. “Just for that, go ahead and start stroking both together.” You hear him spit into his palm as he attempts to push both throbbing pricks together into one steady hand.

The late-night and the emptiness of both of your rooms are only filled with each other’s moans and pining words calling for each other’s bodies. Your hands move together as your eyes shut to deepen the illusion of his presence.

“I’m- close, I’m gonna,” Spinner grunts out.

Your eyes shoot open. “Wait! I have something for you,” snapping out of your sultry voice as if in an emergency. “Give me one sec.” You pick up your phone from the bed and angle the camera towards your body before sending it off as a text.

Spinner fumbles around with his phone, lacking to be grossed out by his own saliva covered hand as he opens your message. “Ohh,” he grunts. The photo showed the position you’d been pleasuring yourself in; legs spread wide showing off your dripping cunt and fingers resting on your clit. “Fuck! You- you look so gorgeous. God, please let me cum!”

“Go ahead, baby. I wish my fingers were you right now,“ you offer.

“Fuuu- uhh. I'm coming, I'm-” his voice catches before he let out a stream of muffled moans. Both of his cocks shoot ropes of his load onto his abdomen, emptying him until he’s completely spent. Spinner takes deep guttural breaths before letting out a sigh of relief.

“How was that?” you ask nervously, you decide not to go for your own orgasm.

“That was great, I had no clue you could do that! Did you learn that from that one otome game?” he says, genuinely curious.

You laugh and cover your hand with your face in exhaustion. “I’m glad you liked it, but now I’m getting sleepy. I’m gonna get some rest, Shuichi.”

“No problem, you're the best, ya know,” he smiles, exhausted. ”Goodnight, sleep well,” he says lovingly.

“Goodnight,” you smile.

Ending the call, your next action would either be the best decision or one you’d regret. You scroll through your contacts before calling your mutual friend, who also was away on the same mission. The phone rings against your ear as you wait, but it picks up only a few seconds later.

“Hey, sorry if I woke you up, I need the hotel information of where you all are staying. I need Spinner’s room number, too,” you request.

“Aw, do you want to come and visit him? So cute! Fuck off, don’t call me this late again, Y/N.”

—

You walked down the sidewalk of a city a few hours away from your home in one of your boyfriend’s tee’s, leggings, and a tote clutched to your side. It’s early in the morning, you’d caught the train around 7am and prepared a plan while sitting alone in the carriage. You finally made it to the entrance of the hotel with your cell phone in your hand to double-check the room number you’d easily convinced Twice to send you. Walking through the lobby, your shoes echo off the marble floor. You softly say “good morning” to the concierge before walking to the elevators at the back of the room and tapping the up button.

Your stomach turns while you walk down the hallway of his floor. What if he's bothered by you being there? What if the plan doesn’t work out? Either way, he responds, you had at least planned for a sweet day date with him away from his team. With a hopeful expression, you knock on his suite door and shift your feet on the hallway carpet waiting for him to respond.

The clicking of locks opening behind the door elevates your mood before the door is swung open. Your boyfriend in pajamas grins wildly as he pounces on you for a hug. “Y/N!” he exclaims, pressing his snout down into your shoulder. You squeeze him close to your body with both arms thrown around his back, surprised at his forwardness. “What are you doing here! Oh, uh, haha, come inside.” You follow him into the living area part of the suite, closing the door behind you.

“Honestly, I wanted to see you in person after our call from last night,” you admit. “So, I got Twice to share the information with me, I hope that’s ok. I know you don’t want Tomura to find out, but I couldn’t help myself,” you explain.

“No, no, I- I like that you came to me, that’s the nicest thing ever, babe,” Spinner says, pulling your hand into the sleeping area. “But, check this room out! I had a whole queen bed to myself, flat-screen TV…, and a desk!”

You watch him swing his arms around the room to show you as much as he could before he had to check out later that afternoon. His excitement for things he’s passionate about always made you love him more. You lean into his side and place a kiss to the side of his snout. He halts his show-and-tell before turning to look into your eyes, a smile growing on his face. His cheeks are blushing.

“You stole a kiss from me?” He questions. “You know what happens when you do that,” Spinner turns on his fake villainous voice before taking your chin in his hand. And then, starts to tickle your neck.

“Shuichi! Ah, no!” You walk backward into the edge of the bed trying to escape his grasp. You fall over onto the soft mattress when his hands roam to your sides and your thighs, continuing his attack. Always being careful with his sharp nails. “Haha ah! C’mon, Mr. Villain! I promise- I won’t steal another!”

Now, his body is hovering above yours, his long, strong arms holding your body like a vice. He stops to stare at your pretty face that's laughing and smiling because of him.

You stare back while locking eyes with his. Wanting to make the move you’d traveled there for, you rush to the front of his snout and lock your lips with his. Tracing the precise shape of his jaw with your fingers. Your bodies come together, noses nuzzled against the others’.

His strength helps pull you both up toward the middle of the bed. Once reaching a more comfortable spot, you use your own strength to push him onto his back. You straddle your legs over his hips and lean down to kiss his neck. Pressing your hot lips against his skin, you let your tongue slip out before sucking the spot he usually hides under a scarf. You whisper sweetly, “I told you I was stronger than you thought, handsome. How would you feel for me to use you like a toy?” Lifting your head, you watch his blown out eyes in anticipation.

Sunlight pours into the room in rays from the large windows at the side of the room while thin curtains give some amount of privacy. Luckily, you were on a high floor. His brown eyes show amber flecks as the sun hits them. He searches your expression for any sign of a lie or joke. “You want to have sex?” he asks, oblivious.

“I want you to fuck me, love… if you’d like that of course" you whisper.

He can’t believe the love of his life just traveled several hours to do something so sinful with his body. His eyes darken a shade in arousal, hoping you’ll dominate his every move, just as you’d done the night before. “Shit, yes. I need you-”

You raise your shirt over your head to throw it over your shoulder before reaching for the edge of his own. Spinner raises his arms above his head and lets you pull it off of his torso. You kiss his nose before sliding down his body eagerly, taking the waistband of his pants with you. Kissing the lines leading down from his Apollo’s belt, you close your eyes in comfort. When you finally open them again, a flutter of your fingers moves his cocks until they’re hard and straining against your hand.

“Please, suck me. I need your tongue, you’re so good,” he stammers. His index finger is pinched between his teeth as you lick up the full length of his sleek shaft. Once you bring your mouth to his tip, the swirl of your tongue against his hole makes him squirm against the sheets. “Ah, so sensitive,” he whimpers.

You lift your mouth from his dripping prick and smile upwards at his blushing face. “So, you don’t want me to blow you, babe?,” you tease as you stroke him slowly in one hand.

“No, no, no keep going!” Spinner yelps trying to sway his hips in your moving hand for friction.

Your head dips back down to the cock in your hand and you wet your lips before taking an amount of his thick length in your mouth. The taste of his bittersweet precum grazing your palate. He groans as you continue in a bobbing motion reminding you of the night before. Your inner thighs rub together to give friction to your hidden cunt.

You continue to bob your head up and down, pressing your tongue against his shaft. His moans motivate you to take both of his cock tips between your lips; you’re still learning how to completely pleasure both of his members equally. You drag your tongue back and forth along his weeping tips in a swiping motion and watch his reaction from underneath your lashes. The size of his eyes and raised brow make you giggle against him; it gives you even more encouragement to keep going. Giving a kiss on the inner part of his muscular thigh, you sit up and pull your leggings off.

Your boyfriend does a double-take when he realizes you're not wearing anything underneath. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he throws his head back against the pillow. You giggle and climb back up his body while Shuichi’s hands pull your hips into his lap to straddle him again. He rocks your body back and forth easily making your slit slide along the length of his shaft. The ridge before his cock tip hitting your clit with every turn.

“Ooh,” you repeat with every time his hard tip skims your engorged pearl. “I wanna ride your cock, babe,” you moan above him. Spinner’s face flushes as he nods and picks your hips up from his body. He ogles your arousal covering the entirety of his cock before allowing you to take it in your small hand to line it up with your entrance. His focused gaze switches from watching you prod your hole to the lewd expression on your face. Your lip being held between your teeth, you lower yourself onto his cockhead. “Ahh,” you gasp. Your chest quickly rises at the sudden development. The built-up arousal causes your body to fall onto his dick in full. You both groan at the abrupt stretch and tightness of your drenched sleeve wrapped around him.

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful. How am I so lucky?” he gushes. You smile down at him and start your back and forth movements, holding onto his broad shoulders for guidance.

Shuichi caresses your thighs as you ride him sensually. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair as you moan. You continue to roll your hips as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, "Enjoy yourself. Take me all you want.” Spinner groans at your slow movements; the nails of his forefingers sinking into your ass like lead as he tries to thrust up into you impatiently. You put your entire weight into him as you press his chest down into the mattress; you forbid him from moving without your permission. “You make me feel- ah- So. Fucking. Good,” he grunts with every smack of your ass against his thighs as you bounce on his dick. His other cock lies beneath your spread thigh; it gains pleasure from the fiction caused by you bouncing and grinding.

You breathe heavily above him. The stretch you feel from his textured cock is heavenly, but once he reaches to poke into your cervix it’s difficult to control your rhythm. “Oh fuck! Right there!” The feeling makes you fall from your posture above him to his level. Your arms circle his neck as your chests are pressed together to continue. The curved tip of his cock slides repeatedly into the soft, ridged spot inside of you as he thrusts upwards into your body now. Forgetting about your assertion about taking control, he pistons his hips forward from the mattress into your sopping cunt over and over again; he’s only trying to get you to your climax now. The feeling of your pretty little hole tightening tells him your close to coming undone.

“Fuck, yes, just like that! Please, a little more,” you groan into his shoulder. You whine after each of his thrusts into his neck. Your words of praise becoming mush as he plows through your body.

“Fuck, I can feel you-. You’re all mine, ugh, you’re pussy is all mine, huh?,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum on my cock. I want it, baby, please- Give it to me!” he says in rhythm to each one of his thrusts as he holds your hips down into his groin.

A large knot in your stomach tightens abruptly and your throat catches before you feel the snap coming. His words encourage your body to let go as your face the orgasm you had denied yourself the night before. You let out a flow of whines and “yes’s” riding your high on his pulsating prick. The next moment, you watch as Spinner’s snout turns upwards and his eyes roll back into his head as he unloads thick strings of warm cum into your cunt. Your exhausted walls unable to give him more before his slippery cock slides out; it lands on his abdomen with a smack in a pool of cum from his other cock.

Shuichi holds your hips above him as you both come down from your highs. His fingertips gently sliding over the indentations from his nails on your ass cheeks and thighs. You place a long kiss on his snout and cheek before throwing yourself to his side on the bed. You both let out deep sighs in pleasure as you both turn to look at one another in awe.

“So,” you laugh. “I planned a cute breakfast date out on the town, but this feels so nice,” you say, smiling.

“A date, with me?” You giggle and nod. His face is flushed, but he responds to you in the same amount of contentment, “I still want to experience the room service, so let’s clean up and I’ll order whatever you want.”

#bnha spinner #mha spinner #spinner #spinner x reader #bnha spinner x reader #reader x spinner #mha spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi #lov #league of villians x reader #league of villians #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #writing #shuichi iguchi x reader #knifeewifee #spinner smut #spinner bnha smut

[willowaudreykeyes]

I’m Afraid, Your Cute And We’re Both Stuck; Let’s Cuddle

@surohsopsisofclouds asked for (red 11) Wings and (purple 12) Spirits from here and I took the ‘spirits’ prompt and just made it into a Haunted House/fears thing and I hope that’s alright

@sparrowofsong​ @5am-the-foxing-hour​ @ladyedwina​

Pairings:  Romantic Intrulogical, Background Romantic Roceit, Background QPR Patmile

Warnings: Swearing, wings, collapsing structure, claustrophobia (fear of tight spaces), mentions of thalassophobia (fear of the ocean), fluffiness, my fear that Remus isn’t in character by the end of this

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

Remus

Two stories tall, with dull brick walls and the occasional broken window. A stereotypical haunted house; recommended by Patton of course. If Virgil recommended one, it’d have reviews about a real ghost that made the rooms go cold and maybe a fork being thrown across the room. This place reeks of machinery and fake, money-grabbing tourism.

I glance up at the sound of wings, not fully turning towards it as I’d know my brother and best friend's wings anywhere. Roman has those huge angel wings that everyone swoons over because of their power and fluffiness; while Jan-Jan has awesome looking yellow-green scaled ones that he’s still self-conscious over since they’re often stereotyped to be with ‘evil’ people. 

So now I’m surrounded by winged-ones. Patton’s Puffin wings press tightly against his back as the sound of shattering glass, that’s been happening every five minutes on the dot, while Virgil’s huge Wedge-Tail Eagle wings fluff up despite knowing that it was going to happen again. At least Roman and Janus didn’t react as much, despite it being a shock to them

“You two are being fucking pussies.”

“Language, Em! And the shattering sound is scary… I can’t help it.” Patton should have brought his life-partner with him as it’d be more fun with more people. I guess after the last haunted house that we took Emile to, he wanted to be able to actually sleep this October.

“We’ll go inside soon, Pat. Is Logan here yet?” Oh yeah, that guy that I’m supposed to be meeting. Forgot about him. Virgil and Roman made him sound so boring, but they also made Remy sound boring before I met the guy while he was dealing with caffeine withdrawal. 

My foot sends a small stone flying as Virgil checks his phone; tsk-ing quietly as he starts typing. “He’s inside already. In the upstairs piano room.”

“I thought we were gonna meet him out here?” Oh my god; I’m going to die from boredom and haunt this place for real if I stand out here any longer. So I grab my jacket from the ground, throw it on and quickly slip between the fence bars instead of grabbing a ticket. No one’s watching anyway.

“I don’t care! I’m going in- Bye!”

“Remus! Wait up!”

Happily ignoring Roman, I slip in through an unlocked side door and fight the distant sound of doors slamming by letting my stomping echo through the house as I head upstairs. This place sucks at scares if they’re resulting in slamming doors, but I can probably piss off some employees if I can find one of their hidey holes. And finding this ‘Logan’ and messing with him would be a nice bonus.

Taking a glance into each room -and ignoring the bad jump scares of fake ghosts played by underpaid, teenage actors- I finally find the piano room Virgil mentioned with someone standing at the far end, by the window. Despite the poor lighting, I can tell that he’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and that his dark hair has been attempted to be slicked back. Perfect posture, hands held behind his back, shoulders tense; I may even be seeing a pair of those fancy black shoes that a lot of the richer kids in the area have. 

I shake my head as I step into the room, followed by an eerie creak in the floorboards. The guy spins around and I manage to see dark eyes behind some glasses before my legs suddenly give way.

One second I see those dark eyes, then the next I’m on the floor with sore arms and a heaviness on my back. A muffled voice, sounding close but layered beneath some kind of fog, gives me the energy to push myself off my stomach and onto my knees before I’m suddenly feeling exhausted.

Those eyes are in front of me again, but this time are a whole lot closer and also no longer as difficult to see that they’re a dark blue; as if the lighting has changed. With a quick glance around, I realise that it has. Because now there’s a broken piano, some splintered wooden pillars, a floodlight that looks like it’s been forgotten about, the walls showing their insides, and a giant fucking hole in the ceiling.

“What the hell...” This guy better have some answers- there’s no way that I should have fallen through the floor. But he looks just as roughed up as me, with some sawdust and a black feather in his now unkempt hair and his tie -who wears a tie to a haunted house?- is hanging around his neck. His huge, ruffled, pitch-black wings of some corvid don’t look injured at least. 

He… didn’t have wings a moment ago.

The guy must have noticed me staring at them, as he motions behind me wordlessly as he stands and brushes himself off. Something twinges in my gut as I turn slightly, only to find myself looking at the dusty wings of a hummingbird. They’re small and rather thin looking, but covered in blues and greens and a few hints of red. They flutter as I try out the new limbs, tearing another part of my shirt in the process. But who cares? I just grew two new limbs.

I’m pulled to my feet, my vision spinning slightly and a tightness in my chest makes it a little harder to breathe. My eyes drift back to the guy in front of me who seems like he’s not as stupefied as I am at what the hell just happened. “Uh… There’s a feather in your hair.”

His eyes widen as he reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, catching the feather along the way and taking a second to pocket it before nodding slightly. “Thank you.” I hear him taking in a sharp inhale as his wings twitch as they try to stay off the dirty floor. There’s no point as they’re covered in dust and dirt already, but he seems stubborn enough to keep trying. “As unexpected and strange as this encounter was, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Logan Crow.”

“Oh! You’re that guy I’m supposed to be meeting- Wait, your last name is ‘Crow’?” I point at the black masses on his back. “And you have those wings?” His brows dip in slightly; just enough that he looks kind of cute. I wonder what all of his other expressions look like...

“Purely coincidental. And you must be Remus Aurelian-”

Something grinds together, echoing the sounds of wood against metal and of a highly taught string snapping from the pressure. Logan’s wings move so that the joint sits higher than his head, ready to fly him away from danger; if only he actually knew how to fly.

I swallow with a dry mouth as I finally realise how small of a room that we find ourselves in. Not that the small amount of space is an issue. Nor that the room seems to be also empty, besides the useless, broken piano. “We should probably leave.”

“Agreed.” The door to the room is just a maintenance one; small enough to not draw attention to it the other side, while large enough to push through wood or something to fix these pillars. They obviously haven’t done so in a while...

It’s rusted hinges squeak with resistance until one of the screws pops out of place as I manage to push it open. But as I attempt to crawl through, a stab of pain flows up my back and shoulders as my new limbs hit the top of the door frame. I try again, wincing this time as I attempt to squeeze through until I’m dragged back inside by the leg.

“I can’t fit through that! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“If you can’t, I surely can’t either.” Even with my tiny-ass wings that may or may not be able to carry me in the future -something to worry about another time- we’re stuck in here unless we suddenly figure out how to fly. In this small room, with not even a window in it. Just four walls that seem to have gotten closer than the last time I had paid attention to them. “I’ll text message the others, see if they can get the operators of the house to help us.”

Standing up doesn’t help the irregular waves of nausea that continue to hit me, but it’s better than how hard it is to breathe when I’m sitting. “But that’s going to take ages!” Except now it’s both hard to breathe, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. And I feel light headed. And my legs don’t want to hold me up anymore. A deep growl escapes my throat as I kick the stump of the closest broken pillar, making a few extra chunks fly off of it. “Why the hell did they make half of these rooms so damn tiny!?”

I kick it again until a hand sits firmly on my shoulder. It’s weird that I already feel so much for this guy, as anyone else would get an elbow to the ribs for touching me while this nausea keeps attacking me. I move away instead, huffing a bit while also taking in a few deeper breaths. “Are… Remus, do you happen to be claustrophobic?”

“What? Fuck no.” I can almost see Janus raising his eyebrow at me; always somehow knowing when I’m lying. It’s just some stupid fear that everyone thinks that I got over years ago. I can last until someone comes to grab us. Maybe sitting down will help...

“I know that we have only just met, but I will ask if you need comforting right now. And before you say that you don’t need it; you are shaking.” The nausea fades into chills and a heavy stone in my gut as I look at my hands as the ground gets a little closer. I close my eyes, hoping that I can just imagine that I’m outside or in a huge cathedral with furniture and lots of room to run around. My hands aren’t shaking; they can’t be shaking. If Roman or Patton or Virgil- anyone knew that I would turn into this wreck just because I’m in a tiny space, I’d never hear the end of it. Being afraid isn’t… It’s not me.

A comforting warmth makes me jump, sliding me off of my pins-and-needles-filled legs. Something slides in behind me, with one hand on my waist and the other helping my wings fold before I’m pulled into a chest. Logan’s chest. When the hell did he wrap his wings around me? 

“I’m not great at this…”

“It’s cool.” I go to say ‘me either’, but instead decide to relax into him. My chest still hurts and it's still harder to breathe then what I’d like.

“You were crying.” 

“I didn’t notice.” Well fuck. What a great first impression this has been. He doesn’t sound judgemental, and he has his wings around me, so he mustn’t think too badly of me. Probably...

“Are you alright?”

I shake my head, sighing as he adjusts the both of us for a few seconds before he finally seems comfortable. “Don’t tell anyone that this happened. They uh, don’t know.” All of my usual drivel and weird flirts are weirdly vacant from my head. It’s weird since that’s the usual, but it’s not bad. I don’t think I’ve felt this comfortable since I was a kid. “The claustrophobia thing, I mean.” 

“Ah. Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Logan seems shy; that’ll be fun to fuck with later. A distant scream from the haunted house brings his arm further around me, and I definitely get a smug smirk because I know that Roman didn’t get cuddles for weeks after meeting Janus. Logan may be a little awkward but holy shit, I already love this.

It's too quiet though; I can hear how bad my breathing is and it’s making me way too self conscious. “I’m gonna eat a full squid in front of Roman to cheer myself up after this.” He stifles his laugh too. Oh, he really is a shy one! And he doesn’t get grossed out easily from the sounds of it.

“They do have three hearts that could be used to help you scare him, but I’m unsure if they are also edible. It may depend on the species.” He hesitates for a moment, moving his head to look down at me, judging by how he’s moving. Roman did say that he was a nerd, but not about stuff that’s actually cool. “I do know that they use two for their gills while the third sends blood to the rest of the body.”

He stops again, this time tensing up the shoulder that I’m using as a pillow. With a huff, I reach up to pat his face before closing my eyes; getting comfortable enough to try and forget where we are. “Keep goin’, you’re nice to listen to. Got that sexy teacher voice thing going on.”

I’m exhausted, but manage a chuckle after his sputters for a moment. He starts talking once more as the hand that’s wrapped around me lightly tapping a rhythm against my side.

“Oh, uhm, alright. I myself am afraid of the ocean, as we have mapped far more of Mars then it and it confirms that over ninety percent of the world is in the dark, but it is rather fascinating to know that ninety-five percent of life on Earth comes from our Ocean’s-” I get to listen to Logan talk endlessly about cool facts, wrapped in his large wings, while being comforted about some silly fear as we sit inside of a partially collapsed room? I think I could get used to stuff like this.

#logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #emile picani mention #intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #roceit #romantic roceit #patmile #queerplatonic patmile #background roceit #background patmile #imma just tag all the winged Sides just in case #winged logan #winged remus #winged patton #winged virgil #winged janus #winged roman #tw swearing #tw wings #tw collapsed floor #tw claustrophobia #tw thalassophobia mention #willowkeyes writes #ask to tag

[machine-gun-casie]

Radio Interview

you just love talking about your boyfriend, machine gun kelly, and zach sang is not complaining.

a/n: if yall havent seen zach sang’s stuff on youtube i definitely recommend you do so, he is so lovely and such a good interviewer. 

also thankyou so much to @harringtonstudios​ for reading it for me and @fandom-central27​ deserves some credit for helping me brainstorm and make this fic sooo much longer than it was going to be in the first place

wc: 4.6k

“Hello! Welcome to the Zach Sang show! Today I have with me the oh so lovely y/n l/n. Thank you for coming.” Zach introduced you, officially starting the radio broadcast. 

You smiled and leaned back on the couch. “Thank you for having me. You’ve got such a comfy studio, man. It’s so great. A bit chilly though, wish I brought a blanket.” You laughed, shivering a little. The place was so comfy, bean bags everywhere. They had you and your mic set up on a really nice gray couch.

“Yeah, the ac’s been going crazy. We’ll get you a blanket though.” Zach motioned to someone outside of the studio.

"No it’s alright.” As soon as the words left your mouth, an assistant entered with a fluffy white blanket. “You know what, I can’t really say no to that.” You laughed.

“Alright, now that we’re all wrapped up and cozy. Hey, how are you?” Zach smiled warmly, his bubbly personality shining through instantly.

“I’m really really good, thank you for asking. I’ve been in a really good place recently. How about you?”

Zach sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know, going through some stuff. But it’s all good. If things aren’t meant to be, they aren’t meant to be.”

“Oh no.” You frowned. “You got some relationship trouble, huh? Yeah, my philosophy is the same, to be honest. Can’t force something that isn’t in the cards for you.”

“I agree one hundred percent. But you gotta have some good relationship advice for me. I mean, your relationship seems to be flourishing.” Zach smiled. You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks. Everyone knew it was going to come to this. You wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole interview was going to be about this.

“Maybe.” You smiled, hands coming up to hide your blushing face.

“Oh come on now, you’re definitely not this shy on your socials.” Zach teased.

“Yeah, but that’s different, man. That’s not like, face to face. Do we really gotta talk about this?” Your nervous laughter made your comment light, letting the radio show host know you were kidding.

“You know we have to. You and Machine Gun Kelly. Who knew? Like, the biggest shock of the year so far.” Zach laughed. “You and him are so different. You’re like America’s pop sensation sweetheart right now. And he’s a rockstar!”

“I know! I thought no way would he even give me the time of the day!” You giggled.

“But I read that you were a big fan before even meeting him. Is that true?”

“Oh definitely! Most people look at me and my career and they immediately label me a pop fan, but it’s not true. I mean, I obviously love pop, but I can like other things too. I’ve been part of the EST family for a while now.” You clarified.

“And EST, that’s Kelly’s fan base, is that correct?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Now, how the hell did y’all meet? It was so sudden for the rest of us. How could your paths have crossed?” Zach laughed.

“It’s kind of a long story...” You trailed off.

“And I am so very willing to listen.” Zach smiled. It wasn’t even like he was interviewing you, it was like he was your best friend and he wanted all the details.

“Well, a while ago, I was the musical guest on SNL.” You explained.

Zach’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I remember that, you were great. That was almost a year ago! Has this been going on for that long?”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, giggling. Zach rolled his eyes and continued. 

“Anyways, you did uhh two songs at SNL, right? You did ‘Hold Me’ and what was the other one?”

“I did ‘Hold me’ and I did ‘PDA’. It was so much fun. I even got to be in one of the sketches, but like only in the background. Honestly a dream come true.” You gleamed. Having been a fan of SNL since your childhood, the statement was definitely true. But you might have been trying to steer the subject away a little and Zach caught on.

“Yes, and I don’t doubt that. But I wanna hear more about the love story.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You laughed. “So, the week before the live show, as a guest star, you have to go to the writers. You only really go if you’re in the sketches, and I wasn’t really, but I begged them to go. I wanted to see the whole process. And I knew of Pete Davidson working there obviously.”

“And Pete is friends with Kelly, right?” Zach asks, clarifying the storyline in his head and for the listeners.

“Yeah, they’re insanely close. So I go into Pete’s office, right? And I know he’s friends with him obviously. So I try to casually mention that I’m a fan, not only of Colson, but also of Pete himself.” You laugh and Zach knows where it's going.

“Did the casual approach work out for you?” He laughs.

“I’m not quite sure.” You giggle. “I was super nervous and sweaty. I’m pretty sure I stuttered throughout the whole thing. But Pete is the coolest person ever and such a good friend that he was just excited I was a fan of Colson’s. So we started planning. He says he can try to put me in the back of a sketch wearing some merch for the new album.” 

“And Hotel Diablo had just come out back then, right?”

“Yes, and I was super into it, but I didn’t have any merch. So Pete said he would hook me up.” 

“Did you expect to be able to meet Kelly after this whole plan?”

“I honestly expected to leave with some new merch and that’s it.” You laughed. “But to my surprise, Colson came on the Saturday of. Pete had told him about me being a fan and he wanted to surprise me.”

“How surprised were you, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Like, one billion.” You gushed. “I don’t remember much of the encounter, but I remember him hugging me and I was definitely crying.”

“Oh yeah, I saw the video. Full on blubbering.” Zach laughed. 

You gasped. “There’s a video? You have to send it to me. Anyways, his daughter was there too and she asked for a picture. I said okay, but I’m sure I looked so bad in it. Like, mascara all down my red cheeks. So I go home and Colson follows me back on Instagram the next day.”

“Did you slide into the dm’s?” Zach smirked.

“You know I did. I had to! But I was fully expecting to be ignored.”

“As one does.”

“Exactly. But he replied and we started chatting. It didn’t really feel real. Like texting him and stuff, I was chill. Because it felt so fake. At that point, I used to live in New York, so it was only really texting. We face-timed a few times, which also felt surreal. Then he came to New York to surprise me and I freaked. Seeing him in the flesh again brought back the same excitement.”

“At this point, was it official?”

“Not really, like we kept telling everyone we were just friends. And it hadn’t gotten to the press yet, and we wanted to keep it like that, so only close friends knew. But I was smitten. We both knew it was going somewhere, but we were being gentle with it.”

“Yeah, the concept of new relationships is so fragile. Sometimes you both want to dive in but you don’t know if you should.” Zach rationed, voicing his thoughts.

“That’s what it felt like, to be honest. But after that first stage, it just became so incredibly easy for us.”

“Not surprisingly, because you are known to be a complete romantic. I mean, all your songs and your whole aesthetic. Your album is literally called ‘Love Love’.” Zach chuckled. “Tell me about that, the process of naming the album and writing the songs and all that. How did you know it was going to focus directly on love?”

You let out a breath and tried to organize your thoughts to form proper words. “I’ve always been so in love with love, so I knew it just had to be centered around that. Like not just romantic love, even platonic love. Some of the songs, well most of the songs on the album, are about platonic love. I had never had a serious relationship until Colson really, so my understanding of romantic love was very minimal.”

“Really? I would have never guessed. The way you write about love seems like it comes from vast experience.”

“Yeah, it was experience in platonic love. In all of my friendships, I always put my all into it, which isn’t always right. But it’s just the way I am. So when a friendship ends, it truly feels like a heart break.”

“So your song ‘No Longer’ isn’t about a relationship?”

“No, it’s about a friend I had. A best friend, actually. We were so close, people actually thought we were dating. But something happened between us and it was so painful. I have so many songs written about that, but some are so specific that the person and what they did would no longer be secret. It wouldn’t be right, you know?”

“I completely understand, sometimes things are just for yourself.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“The song that most resonated with fans was ‘I’m (Not) Crying For You’. Did you know it was going to be this well loved?”

“Yeah, they went crazy over that one. I didn’t think it would be this popular at all. Since ‘PDA’ and ‘Hold Me’ were like the singles with the music videos, I thought those would be the hits if there were any. But yeah, people really loved ‘I’m (Not) Crying For You’.”

“Can you explain the song and what it means to you?”

“I would love to. As a teenager, whenever I would lose a friend, I would always turn to break up songs. I always felt like the lyrics depicting the end of a relationship worked with friendships as well, but it was annoying to me.”

“Why annoying?”

“Because they aren’t about friendships. They’re about relationships. And I did relate, but not to every line. Cause some lyrics would mention like marriage and sex and those things aren’t related to friendships. I didn’t like the fact that I had to pick and choose the lyrics that spoke to me.”

“So this song is for everyone. I love that.”

“Yeah, I tried to keep it as vague as possible so that anyone going through the end of something could relate. And with the end of anything, you always want to seem like you’re doing fine to the other person. Like, make them think that them leaving hasn’t affected you. So you know, I don’t want them to see me cry. But if they do, they should know that the tears aren’t for them, when in reality they are.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. It’s a great hype song, though. Like it has sad lyrics, but the beat and everything really makes it feel like it’s meant to get over someone.”

“Yeah, it is! I love hype songs where it’s like ‘Fuck you, I don’t need you anymore!’ I drew a lot of inspiration from songs like that.”

“What’s your hype song? Everyone has that one song after someone screws them over.”

“Mine is actually ‘The Break Up’ by Kells. I have every lyric to that song seared into my brain.” You laughed. 

“Really?” Zach asked, raising his eyebrows and letting out a laugh.

“Yeah, I play it when I’m getting my makeup done before performances. Colson thought it was hilarious.”

“I think it’s adorable. Literally relationship goals.” Zach exclaimed. “Alright, another one of your songs that I love is ‘Tattoo’. That one just speaks to me.” Zach smiled, looking so incredibly genuine.

“Really?” You gleamed. “That’s one of my favorites. I just love tattoos, the idea of having something on your body forever is just so romantic to me. Not even matching tattoos or anything. Just the ink itself.”

“Me too! But you don’t have any, right?” 

“I just got my first one!” You smiled. You got your first tattoo with Colson about a week prior. “Well, I actually got 2. Very small, though. Not really noticeable. I love those small one needle tattoos, I find them to be so pretty.”

“When did you get them done?” Zach asked. “Because I remember you once said in an interview that you had none.”

“Yeah, I got them a week ago with Colson.” You rolled your eyes as you could almost see the headlines. “Now everyone’s gonna be like ‘Machine Gun Kelly ruined me’ or something.”

“Obviously not, but yeah I know what you mean. Headlines and tabloids are just awful. But he has to have influenced you somehow, right. Two incredibly different personalities coming together. Are your personalities super different or is it just superficial?”

“Yes and no. Outwardly, we both have very different personalities. But when it comes down to it, I feel like we aren’t the same but we work well together. He makes me laugh and he helps me heal. Overall, he just makes me a better person. And he’s so impulsive at times and I feel like I need that.”

“How-how is he impulsive in ways that you need? How can impulsivity help a relationship?” Zach asked.

You hummed, looking at your hands. “I second guess a lot and then I regret it. Last week we were talking at like 3 in the morning about my song ‘Tattoo’, actually.” You motioned your hands to Zach because you were previously discussing the same thing. “He asked me why I didn’t have any if I loved them so much, and I didn’t have an answer. So he called over his artist the next day, and I definitely don’t regret what I got so far.”

Zach looked over at you, as if he was trying to find them and you laughed. “No, you can’t see them. I mean, I can show you?”

“Yes, please do.”

“I got one on my ribs, like on the side. I’ll show you a picture of that. And I got one on my head.” You explained as you took out your phone and looked through your camera roll.

“Woah, you went hard for your first tattoos!” Zach exclaimed. “Isn’t the pain worse the closer you are to the bone?”

“Yeah, yeah it is. It’s what I’ve read anyways. But they were quick, because like I said, they're very small. No shading or anything.” You found the picture and turned your phone to Zach. “I got ‘Love Love’ on my ribs, in the same font as the album cover, but super small. And the other one is under my hair. I had to shave a square off.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t show unless I pull my hair up at a specific place.” You turned and lifted your hair. “It’s ‘Hotel Diablo’ surrounded by a little border in Colson’s handwriting. He got the same one back when the album came out, in the same place too.”

“So they’re matching?”

“Yeah, he got ‘Love Love’, too. A lot of people online always say to never get matching tattoos, but I don’t really care. Even if it doesn’t work out, which I hope isn’t the case, ‘Hotel Diablo’ is one of my favorite albums and has helped me grow as a person. I just hope he doesn’t regret the one he got for me.” You laughed.

“Does he like your album? He doesn’t seem to be much of a pop guy.”

"He used to tease me when we first started talking about how he would never listen to it and all that. But he was actually like analyzing the songs.”

“No way! That is cute, relationship goals again! Man, you guys are unbelievable.”

“Yeah, he surprised me. But as a fellow artist and songwriter, he knew that he could probably find out a lot about me just through my songs.”

“And did he? Do you see him do something for you and you think ‘he did that because of this song or that song’?”

“Sometimes.” You ponder. “But he and I are just on the same wavelength, I feel. He takes one look at me and he knows what to do. It’s insane.” You chuckled. 

“On the topic of songs, have you written any about him? Has he written anything about you?”

“Oh, I’ve definitely written about him. I’ve got like dozens. Shit, he doesn’t know that.” You realized. “Fuck, I hope he’s not listening. Anyways, I don’t think he’s written anything about me. When he’s high as fuck though, he freestyles about everything. He’s written a song about asking me to do some... things that I will not say on camera. He’s just always spittin’ fire. The talent that that man possesses is mind blowing.”

“Watching him come up with it must be incredible.”

You nodded your head vigorously. “One hundred percent. He’s got a home studio, and some days we just never leave that place. I don’t even need to be writing or recording anything, I just sit and watch him. I’ve been around many a songwriter in my time on this earth, but I’ve never seen one work like this man does.”

“Let me just say, you are absolutely glowing when you talk about him and your album.” Zach smiled.

“Thank you! Like I said, I’m in a really good place right now. This album really made me feel like I took a lot off my shoulders. Like I put all those emotions out there and they’re no longer weighing on me. And Colson… Well, Colson’s just Colson.” You smiled.

“Speaking of your boyfriend, I’m getting a message that he’s coming into the studio.” Zach said as he looked at his phone.

“What?” You asked, sitting up on the couch and looking towards the door. A few seconds later, your tall, lanky boyfriend walked in.

“Hey! Hope I’m not crashing or anything.” Colson smiled, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

“Well you kind of are. This is my interview. You said you’d pick me up when I was done.” You pouted.

“Don’t give me that cute ass pout. Thought I’d come a little earlier, besides you’ve been mainly talking about me.” He smirked, sending you a wink.

“That is very true.” Zach said. “She can’t stop, but I am not complaining.”

“Ugh, don’t encourage him.” You groaned playfully. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

“Nope.” Colson agreed, excited to tease you about it later. “I’m sorry, Zach, for just crashing like this.”

“No, it’s alright! Make yourself at home. I’m sure everyone who’s tuned in is incredibly surprised. How are you, Machine Gun Kelly?”

“Kells is fine. I know the whole thing can be a mouthful.” Colson chuckled. “I’m doing great. Got a really inflated ego after hearing you guys praising me all morning.”

“We have been, haven’t we? But I would say that’s mostly y/n’s fault, to be honest.” Zach pointed at you, throwing you under the bus.

“Hey, don’t put it all on me! You asked the questions!” You exclaimed, laughing along. You turned to Colson and pulled him in closer. “Don’t listen to him, he just wants to get on your good side.”

Colson laughed and draped his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. You reached out and placed the blanket over his legs as you cuddled into him. “It’s alright, if you were interviewing me, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Now you guys are just making me jealous.” Zach scoffed. “So Kells, please tell us your side of the story of how you two met.”

“Alright, only two people know about this story. So this is incredibly valuable information.” Colson started out. You expected to be one of the two people, so you were shocked when he didn’t say your name. “Pete and my daughter.”

“What?” You exclaimed. “I’m in the story, how do I not know?”

“It’s before the SNL show, like when Pete told me about you. I never told you how that went down.”

“Oh my God, I’m all ears. Go ahead.” You said, turning to face Colson as he told the story.

“Alright, so I was in New York with my daughter that weekend. I had some business and I was going back home on Sunday, so I brought her along. We were already going to the SNL show before Pete told me about y/n. I knew she was performing, though.”

“You did?” You asked, eyes wide. He kept up with you before meeting you? “Sorry, sorry, continue.”

“Yeah, I did. Casie is a big fan of y/n and her music, so she was really excited about going. I had heard y/n’s songs before, you know on the radio and whenever I would drive with my daughter and she would put on her own music. So I knew the name, but I had never seen a picture of her. When Pete told me he wanted me to come and meet her, I looked her up.”

“Oh no.” You gasped, knowing that your general aesthetic would have probably deterred him from meeting you.

Colson looked back at you when he said his next sentence. “I was like ‘How can this adorable Disney princess looking chick be into my music?’ I couldn’t believe it.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned, bringing your hand up to cover your blushing face.

“No, I’m serious. But I couldn’t stop looking at pictures of her. I wanted to follow her, but I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise. My daughter was teasing me, telling me that I had to get her number during the show. I didn’t of course, like the idiot that I am. But I did follow her on Instagram the next day. Pete was smug the whole time, though.”

“Of course he would be.” You rolled your eyes and snorted. “But I mean, we have to thank him for all of this. Without him, we probably wouldn’t have met.”

“No, we would have. I was still going to go to the show. We would have seen each other and Casie would have still asked for a picture.” Colson said.

“True, but you and I both know we wouldn’t have talked beyond that. I would’ve been too nervous to say anything.” You replied.

“Oh yeah, definitely. I would have been too taken aback by your beauty to say anything either.” Colson nodded.

“Oh shut up!” You laughed, hitting his chest.

“And how did your daughter react to the blooming relationship?” Zach asked Colson.

“She’s usually like, indifferent about my relationships. But this time, she wanted all the updates. When I told her I would be flying back to New York a few weeks later to surprise y/n, she begged me to come with. But I had to leave her, you know?”

“Yeah, of course. Quality time with your S/O is rare when you have a kid.” Zach replied.

“Tell me about it! And then this crazy busy job, too. You’ve got no free time. I finally had a free week and I knew I had to go see this one or it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.” Colson said, pulling you closer when mentioning you.

“And did you, Colson, think you two were gonna end up together?” Zach asked.

“I was hoping so!” Colson laughed. “I was gonna hit her up, but she beat me to it. I was gonna try to get with her, but I didn’t think she would like me. But I’m so glad she did. Don’t know how I lived without her.” Colson looked into your eyes as he spoke, smiling like the love sick doofus that he is.

“Aw, now how long have you been together for? The world’s only known for about a month now, right?” Zach asked.

“Yeah, we posted on Instagram on the 29th of last month. So a little less than a month.” You said, looking at Colson for confirmation.

“Yeah, we waited for a long time. But we’ve been together going on 9 months now.” Colson said and you nodded.

“Woah, that’s crazy! How did you manage to keep it a secret for so long?” Zach wondered, as the length of the relationship was surprising.

“It was hard, I can tell you that.” You chuckled. “ Colson would always post about his ‘secret girlfriend’ and all that. Like, pictures of us holding hands and stuff. It was easy for him, he could just crop my face out. But for me, it was much harder.” You sighed.

“Oh my God, it would have been so hard with all his tattoos!” Zach exclaimed when he understood your struggle.

“Yeah, I got so many tattoos. Anyone could just look it up and find out. But she would post sometimes like, really strategic pictures. I was amazed at how she could do it. But it made it easier that people knew we were in a relationship to keep it a secret. Like, they knew I had a girl, but they didn’t know who it was.”

“Yeah, exactly. Like I just had to keep his name a secret, not the fact that I had a boyfriend. It wouldn’t have been a secret for too long if it was like that ‘cause I never shut up about him.” You laughed.

“Yes, I remember those cryptic tweets all the time. All the tabloids were about y/n l/n’s secret boyfriend.” Zach laughed.

“It was so funny watching everyone scramble trying to find out who he was. But I’m so glad we’re done with that now.” You sighed, placing your hand on Colson’s chest.

“So am I, we wouldn’t have had this interview if you guys didn’t go public. That was truly a fairytale kind of love story.” Zach sighed. “I loved talking to you guys so much.”

“Aw, thank you Zach. I can’t believe our time together has come to an end. I hope I didn’t bore you, we barely talked about the album.” You laughed. “This interview was more about Machine Gun Kelly than it was about me.”

“No, definitely not. I learned so much about you guys today. And about love as a whole.” Zach laughed. “Now I know what a loving and healthy relationship looks like. I hope we can have you here another time, y/n. And maybe have Kells come for an interview of his own?”

“Definitely, man. We can sort that out, I’ll tell my manager.” Colson nodded at Zach.

“I would love crashing that interview.” You joked, causing everyone to laugh. “But in all seriousness, you are so good at interviewing people, Zach. Just felt like a conversation with a lifelong friend.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Colson agreed. “Some interviewers feel too pushy and just overall fake. Not you, though.”

“Aww, you’re too nice. You guys were just really easy to talk to. Thank you for coming, y/n. And thank you for joining us, Kells.”

“Thank you for having us, it’s been so fun.” You answered.

“It definitely was, but unfortunately, we only have so much time. Thank you to our wonderful audience for tuning in. This has been an interview with y/n l/n and Machine Gun Kelly, and here’s a word from our sponsor.”

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@bakerkells​

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