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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) )

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with.

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

Taglist: @darthdameron

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#first order poe dameron #FO! poe dameron #FO! poe dameron x reader #fo! poe x reader #knife play

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

imagine if levi and hange and the rest of their kiddos survive the rumbling 🤧🤧 hange would prolly retire as commander so she can travel more to develop marleyan and paradis technology and their name would go down in the history books 😩😩 by this time, levi's building their dream cottage and a tea shop as well. then eventually hange returns and the house levi built finally turns into a home 🥺🥺 god not me CRYING OVER THIS!? HELP

His first stop was the bathroom.

Levi entered the small, confined space and inspected it meticulously. The tiles were spotless, the bathtub and washbasin were clean and shining. The towels were ironed and fresh, lying beside the bathtub and waiting to be used. On the bureau next to it, Levi put a bottle of strawberry shampoo and a bar of soap.

Everything’s ready here, he concluded and exited the room, closing the door.

Next was the study room. He walked inside and went straight to the window, opening it and letting in a smell of apples and flowers that grew right outside. He ran his fingertips along the smooth surface of a mahogany desk.

Carving it was such a hustle. Levi winced, as he remembered the ache in his hands that refused to leave a whole week after he was done making that desk.

The desk was dustless, the only thing lying on it was a book, a gift Levi received a couple of days prior.

Peculiar properties of Eldian technology by Hange Zoe

A brief smile crossed Levi’s features as he glanced at it.

You’ve come a long way, four-eyes, he thought, moving further. He turned to the bookshelf and checked the order of books, standing on it. The tomes and volumes were lined up strictly in the alphabetical order, it took Levi four days to organize all of it, but he knew – the annoying weirdo would arrive and would reorganize it all to her heart’s desire, in a system only she could understand.

But it’s the thought that counts, Levi had to remind himself. Besides, he just couldn’t leave all these books in boxes in the attic.

The last room he visited on the second floor was the bedroom. The bed was meticulously made, not a single crease on blue colored, soft sheets. On the bedside table, Levi put a fresh bouquet – chamomiles and sunflowers, her favorite.

Satisfied with inspection, he moved downstairs. As he descended, he did so with a slight, but excited spring in his step.

Only one hour left and there was still so much he needed to do and prepare, but he was eager and giddy.

After months of being apart, one hour seemed like ridiculously small amount of time. And, considering they had a whole life ahead of them, a life without danger and tragedy, one hour was nothing.

Still, it felt like time was flowing too slowly, the pointers of his wrist watch dragged forward in a sluggish, tardy manner.

Once he was downstairs, he headed to the living room. The room was illuminated by a warm, afternoon sunlight. The slight breeze was ruffling green curtains, making Levi think if he should light up a fire. It was only early hours of afternoon and evenings in the summer were warm enough, so he decided against it.

Still, as he walked around the room, he couldn’t help but picture himself, sitting on the sofa in the center. He could almost hear the soft cracking of fire inside the fireplace and feel a warm blanket on his knees. The image of a person, enjoying this peace and quiet beside him, was so vivid Levi had to shake his head to get rid of it.

His thoughts were merely a fantasy anyway. Peace and quiet existing in their house? No way that would ever happen.

Levi glanced down and found a small pile of gifts on the coffee table. There was a basket of pears from Connie’s garden, a pair of socks, knitted by Historia, a blanket, made by Mikasa and Armin, a picture, drawn by Jean.

Someone’s very popular, he couldn’t help but scoff at the notion. So many gifts just for her, when the only thing he had ever received from the loudmouthed brats was a splintering headache.

The kitchen, when he entered, was in chaos, as Connie, Jean and Mikasa frantically moved around, busy with last preparations.

“I thought you were done with this shit,” Levi grumbled, leaning against the doorway and crossing hands on his chest. “If I knew you would take so long, I would have done it myself.”

“But who would have inspected the whole house for a dozen of times then?” Jean asked, turning to Levi with a cocky grin on his face.

Levi felt annoyance bubble inside him at the sight of that smug expression. And to think the brat was tall enough that he couldn’t give him a smack on a head.

“Hurry up,” Levi urged. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“We still have half an hour, before Armin brings Hange-san here,” Mikasa scoffed. “You can go and check if the house is clean enough once more.”

Years passed, and yet Mikasa remained as irritating as ever. Levi was thinking of vicious enough retort, when Historia chimed in.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about the house! I’m sure Hange-san would love it!”

“I think you could have built her a barn, and she would be ecstatic all the same.” Connie added with a cheerful grin.

“Knowing her pig-like tendencies…” Levi scowled. “Of course, she wouldn’t mind living in a barn.”

“But you want the very best for her, right?” Historia guessed with a warm smile.

“Something like that, yes,” Levi mumbled, his face heating up under the fond looks of his former squad. “Now hurry up and start serving a table. I’ll finish here myself.”

***

Levi liked giving the brat shit for being slow idiots, but he had to admit – when put up to a task, they were the best of the best. Ten minutes later, and a table that stood in the middle of a garden behind the newly build house was overflowing with food and wine. Levi made sure that most of the table’s contents were Hange’s favorites.

Everything should be perfect. He missed her too much for prepare a welcome party that was anything less.

When everything was served and brought out of the house, there was nothing left to do, but sit together around the table and stare intensely at the narrow trail that led up to the house, waiting to see a black car on it.

Levi was living in a small cabin near the woods, Connie and Jean were working on a farm outside of town and Historia was too busy with her royal and maternal duties to learn how to drive a car. That’s why Armin was the one tasked with bringing Hange back home after a trip overseas.

She was gone for almost a year, and everyone couldn’t wait to see her again. And, of course, no one was missing her more than Levi.

When the car finally showed up, Levi was the first one to stand up. His heart was hammering loudly as a smile broke across his face.

He hid it behind his usual scowl. He missed Hange, missed her like crazy. She didn’t have to know about it, though.

The kids rushed to the entrance, all of them wearing almost identical happy expressions. As soon as the car stopped, Jean hurried to it, opening the door for Hange.

She walked out of the car, and everyone cheered, running to embrace her.

Hange laughed and cooed, marveling at how the kids have grown up.

Levi stood a little distance away, unable to take his eyes off her smiling face. She didn’t age a day, he realized, as his heart continued to beat with twice its usual speed.

Finally, after seemed like an eternity to Levi, Hange patted Connie’s head one last time and raised her eyes. Her smile became even wider as their gazes met.

“Hey,” she murmured as she approached him.

“Hey,” he echoed, unable to fight the smile anymore.

“Nice house,” Hange commented, as she reached out and took his hand in hers.

“It’s not a house,” Levi said, intertwining their fingers. “Now that you’re here, it’s a home.”

#sorry to turn your ask into this!!!#but i was really inspired #writing levihan with happy ending is like free therapy for me #levihan

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curiousconch · 3 years

Text

Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 2)

Part 2: Before I dive right into you

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of their pretend wedding in Las Vegas, Gabe begins to unravel his growing feelings for Alex. But as he attempts to bring his past to light, someone from Alex's previous life casts a shadow on the future.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.4k+ (sorry 🙈)

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, some swears

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A little after 1 AM, Las Vegas

Gabe can't help but smirk at the look of mischief in Alex's eyes as they stood by a quiet spot in the middle of Las Vegas. With her in that glittery dress, he somehow can't bring himself to part from her yet.

He knew it wasn't only him who felt that tingling in his fingertips when he brushed her cheeks, her breath smelling strongly of martini. He was very aware that Alex felt the same when she stared back at him, standing at that cramped cheap chapel while an Elvis impersonator stood nearby. The moment she stepped away when he said that it's just all pretend made Gabe's heart ache with regret.

So here they were, standing awkwardly after he shot down her advances again.

But he was sure he didn't want the night to end here.

After calling for a car, he shoved his phone inside the pocket of his slacks and turned to Alex.

"I was serious when I said I wanted a celebratory drink," he glanced apologetically to his side where she stood. "Our hotel bar offers my favorite scotch."

Alex raised her head, smiling. "Knew you had it in you, Gabe."

A car ride and a couple of glasses of Lagavulin later, there they were, lounging on stools at their opulent hotel bar, warm lights and jazz music providing a backdrop on the casual atmosphere.

"And I could not believe the rat thing worked! Who would've known they kept a rat in there as a pet? Like really?" Alex raised her glass to her lips, as Gabe sat on the barstool beside her, cradling his own drink.

"Beginner's luck, I would believe," he chuckled in reply, leaning forward, tie loosened and his coat hanging at the back of his chair.

"I am so offended," Alex gasped as she shoved her hands flat on her chest in mock disbelief. "I'm not only the boring nerd when I was in high school, Gabe. I was that nerd who sang and dance at the drama club!"

Gabe shook his head, his lips pursing. "That makes so much damn sense, Alex." He took another swig of his third shot, fighting for dear life from laughing his heart out. Not wanting to give her that satisfaction, he threw a sarcastic dig at her remark. "That's so believable, seeing you could snatch an Oscar from Meryl Streep herself and the no one wouldn't even bat an eye."

"Ah, law was plan A, sir." she saluted, placing her empty glass on the bar counter. "Acting was a fallback in case it didn't pan out." she giggled.

Gabe grinned as he rolled up his sleeves, beckoning the bartender for another round. "You should have made it your plan A, seeing how you turned out," he teased, bringing up the fun bit they did to retrieve a copy of Lydia Rothswell's marriage certificate. The very same act that almost made Gabe kiss Alex in the middle of The Strip.

"Aww, Gabe, finally found a better lawyer than you? Feeling threatened yet?" Alex leaned in, snickering as their glasses were refilled. "Don't worry, I' ll settle for being a Junior Partner for now," she said as she reclined, before throwing in a playful wink.

"Well someone's head just became bigger," he gave her a smug look.

"Just trying to keep up with all the cockiness in the room," she smiled coyly, watching Gabe's stupefied expression. It was clear then that she scored a slam dunk at the championship of comebacks, laughing at his astonishment.

Gabe finally gave up, joining Alex in her laughter. As their joy receded, he let himself take in the sight of Alex without any inhibitions. What he was beginning to see was the extent of her wit, her ability to keep her cool, and the sharp humor that matched only his.

Under the warm light of the lounge, she brilliantly shone. He couldn't focus at what she was now saying as he danced at the appeal of them becoming more than colleagues. Perhaps he resisted his own feelings long enough that he was past the point of denial. Or simply because he was starting to get drunk.

Though before he can even begin to consider that, he was still sober enough to know that he first needed to tell her the truth.

The truth that sometime long ago, their paths have already crossed. And that he did something very horrible.

Call him cynical, but he wasn't kidding when he admitted he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. And that meant laying down all his cards on the table. Because for him, Alex was more than the occasional one-night stand. And he can't be certain of how long he could keep himself from his budding feelings, all stakes be damned.

What better time to be honest when there was enough alcohol in his system to prevent all rational thinking? It's now or never, he figured.

"Alex, I -"

"Alessandra? Alessandra Keating?" a deep voice came from behind him, interrupting Gabe. He cocked his head to get a clearer view, as a man with slicked back blonde hair approached from a private booth nearby.

Without hesitation, the tall stranger in the dark suit stepped forward, his striking features Gabe would have easily recognized anywhere. That face was almost in every blockbuster movie in the last five years.

"Julian? What are you doing here?" Alex asked, as abashed as he was. Gabe saw how she clammed up the very second she recognized the man.

"Oh my, it really is you!" the man stopped beside Alex's bar stool, welcoming himself to their company. The way he was looking up and down at her made Gabe's jaw clench so hard, his teeth gritted. But the man's next movement stunned him all the more. In front of him, the man embraced Alex, making Gabe suddenly want to combust. His tumbler could've shattered if he tightened his grip on it a little more.

"Uhm, Julian, hi," Gabe surveyed Alex as she writhed within the man's arms, waiting for any signal from her so he could do something, anything, to make this man go away. But she assured him with one look, shifting a little, making the man who wedged himself between them release her.

"It's been so long! When was the last time I saw you, like, 12, 13 years ago?" the man exclaimed, his annoying smile making Gabe want to slam his fist somewhere. And it wasn't on the bar counter.

Gabe heard Alex scoff, fighting hard to regain her composure. "Yeah, high school," Her icy demeanor took over, one that Gabe only saw in the courtroom. She brushed her dress as she tilted her head to Gabe's direction.

The man turned to Gabe, the surprise evident as he acknowledged Gabe's presence behind him. The two men sized each other up sending an undercurrent of tension between them. Before Gabe could even consider acting out of impulse, Alex cleared her throat to diffuse his temper.

"Julian, this is Gabe. Gabe, this is Julian, my -"

"Ex," Julian interjected, before turning his attention to the lawyer. Apparently, this guy had a habit, Gabe observed. "We were together senior year. Alessandra, my angel, we had the best time together, didn't we? We looked good together, at least after Alex thought to improve her image here. Sadly, we had to break up. Teenage romances, you know?"

The picture couldn't be any clearer; this was the person Alex was speaking about during their dinner back in New York. And hearing the way he talked, no wonder Julian got under her skin. He was a damned manipulative pretentious liar. Gabe could hear the dishonesty between the words, not an ounce of authenticity in sight while the blonde hotshot rambled on.

Alex wasn't showing any sympathy either, her brown eyes staring daggers at him, as he went on about his monologue, emphasizing on how she was his back then. She was clearly infuriated by his attempt to own her, as well as his lack of shame. As Gabe quietly considered her reaction, he deliberated on a strategy to put her out her misery. The moment an idea came to mind, he gave Alex a subtle look asking her to back his play.

Alex nodded, sitting a little straighter. Finding the instant shift in her, Gabe made his move.

"Sweetheart," he slowly raised his voice as he said the endearment, enjoying the contempt from the other guy when he was interrupted. "You never told me Julian Wintour was your ex."

Alex smiled smugly, appearing pleased with the nickname Gabe chose, a clear pun on the whole high school sweetheart trope. "Never crossed my mind, babe. It's such an unimportant detail in my past," she waved her hand dismissively.

"Ah, nonsense," he finished his drink and gestured for the bartender to clean up. "Mr. Wintour's history would have made a good conversation starter." Gabe straightened his vest and stood, collecting his coat. He sauntered towards Alex, circling around the now speechless Julian. He draped his jacket over her shoulders, clearly making a statement before he reached for her hand, wrapping it in his.

"Why? Isn't the shiny nameplate of Senior Partner not good enough?" Alex expertly rode along, locking eyes with her former flame before gazing back at Gabe enticingly. "Forgive him, Julian. My lovely boyfriend here has a bad hobby of underselling himself," she smiled warmly, the irony of her statement eluding her ex. Gabe was about to smirk with her ingenuity, stopping when he felt her arm slowly wrapping around his waist. He barely stifled a groan at the intimacy of her touch.

The other man went beet red at the gesture. For embarrassment or infuriation or both, Gabe didn't fucking care. All he cared about was for Alex to slap this douche's face, metaphorically speaking.

"Anyway, Julian, it's been a pleasure. It's been a long night, and we're about ready to retire at our penthouse suite," steadily, she got up from her seat. The command in her was undeniable, forcing anyone to feel nothing but regret the day they decided Alessandra Keating wasn't good enough for them. Then with a flourish, she turned around as she let Gabe take her away from her past lover's scrutinizing gaze.

Inside the elevator, Gabe caught Alex's exhale of relief, probably thankful that Julian was out of her sight. Gabe still held onto her hand, though Alex didn't seem to notice. As they began their ascent, he waited for her to break the silence, deciding that the questions running in his mind can wait.

"I would have traded my rankings for the look of disbelief in Julian's face," Alex said turning to him, to which Gabe arched his brow.

He smirked devilishly, knowing Alex could take the hint. "I believe I could offer a sight better than that."

She grinned at the innuendo, further lightening up the mood between them. "One day, Gabe, I'll take you up on that," she said, crossing her legs as she leaned on the polished wall behind her. "Though I'm sure you're dying to know... How did I end up dating the Julian Wintour?"

Gabe pondered before answering. "Hmm, actually not the first one that comes to mind, no." He tapped against his temple. "I doubted you would ever bat an eyelash to his direction."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ah, you think so highly of me." She chuckled, shaking her head at his reply. "But yes, he was my ex. And yes, he was the red on my ledger. He was my first love," she admitted. "That ideal, once in a lifetime, true love everyone's talking about? Julian was it, or at least I thought he was." she sighed, glancing at her reflection on the polished metal panel beside her. "But when things started to go downhill for me, he was the first one to walk out," she paused, taking a deep breath. "By cheating on me."

Gabe's body went rigid, clenching his fists so hard until his nails dug unto his palms. What the fucking hell? I know I should have punched that guy's perfect teeth! He decided against airing his vengeful thoughts, staying quiet as he glimpsed at her image on the walls.

"Joey reminded me how Julian made me doubt myself. If I'm really over what he's done to me, if he's still in my head," she continued, rubbing at her nape. Gabe felt her gaze fall on him, which he reciprocated. "But after walking out from him tonight, I am much more certain that I made it out, after all."

Gabe felt her squeeze his hand as she said those words, and his heart somersaulted inside his chest. "So thanks. I needed that little nudge," she said in finality.

He turned to beam at her as he relished the triumph in her words, hoping that it was enough to convey that he was proud of her. And to be part of that discovery about herself, about who she always was in his eyes - someone who was his equal.

When they arrived at her floor, she gently freed her hand from his grasp invoking a sharp exhale from him. She stepped out of the elevator, her gait as undeterred as ever. But then she turned, her soft expression dimmed by the lack of light. "And while we're on the subject of appreciation," she uttered, before dropping one last revelation.

"Thanks for that save you also gave me ten years ago," Alex glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, her words laced with meaning.

It took him a few moments before he could even comprehend what she was trying to convey. He searched her eyes for some explanation but found none. "What do you mean, Alex?" he said, managing to find his voice.

"I know exactly who you are, Gabriel Ricci."

With that, the doors slowly closed in front of him, her sly smile fading from his sight until he can only see his own reflection. He examined her last sentence, repeating the words over and over in his head. There was only one plausible explanation: she only knew half of the truth. His body sagged against the wall as he shut his eyes, angry at himself.

No Alex, I think you really don't.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your continued reading! As some of you may have already noticed, this part was written purely in Gabe's POV because I wanted to expose his conflicted feelings for Alex. It's probably my own version of revenge, with PB stretching that slow burn as much as they could 🤭 Share your thoughts in the comments, I'd really appreciate it! 💖

Taglist: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @fucking-random1 @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer

@choicesficwriterscreations

It's my first time tagging a couple of folks, so please inform me if I missed including you. Also, want to be added or removed from the tag list? No problem - just let me know 😊.

#choices laws of attraction #laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #laws of attraction fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #gabe ricci x mc #gabe ricci

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marvelsbetch · 3 years

Text

Peter Parker’s betrayal

Warning: Depressed Peter, Betrayed Peter, Dick head Stark.

-Peter POV-

I was so excited for this weekend, I had finally convinced Aunt May to let me stay the night at Stark towers. Mr. Stark and had been begging for weeks for me to stay the weekend so we could geek-out about nuclear physics and new suit upgrades to our heats content. After quite a bad Friday, Ned and MJ has been acting weird and Flash seems to have gotten more violent and cocky. Plus, when Happy drove me back to my apartment he never spoke to me, not even his dry hello, he just gave me sympathetic glances as if he knew something I didn't. Saturday was the day, the day I had been waiting for since I first heard of Mr. Stark and his work. Since I read the first news article on Iron Man. Since I was 6 years old.

It started great, the sun was shining unusually bright for a March morning, Aunt May had made me her world famous pancakes worthy of Mr. Stark himself. My bag was already packed and ready, all I had to do was wait. Wait for Happy to come and pick me up and take me to what would've been the best weekend of my life.

How I wish I could go back. I wish I could go back to being this happy and content with my life. I wish.

"Peter! Happy's here!" Aunt May yelled at me from the living room, I was waiting on my bed.

"Okay, I'm coming." I told her grabbing my bag and walking to the door to meet Happy.

All he did was give me a sympathetic look and lead me outside to the car. The last time I'll ever see this car. The drive to Stark Tower was similar to the drive home last night. Awkward and eerily silent. The thirty minute drive felt like two hours as a sense of impending doom washed over me. I should've listened to my senses and asked Happy to turn back.

Soon we pulled into the Stark tower garage and started walking towards the elevator, Happy following close behind. We rode up to the penthouse again, in silence and walked into the living room.

My heart shattered.

Mr. Stark was sat on the couch watching a movie with popcorn and Ice cream while talking to someone. A teenage boy I recognised. The teenage boy who tormented me since freshman year. The teenage boy names Eugene 'Flash' Thompson. Sat on Mr. Starks couch, watching a movie. What is going on.

"Hey Mr Stark." I spoke waving at him and walking further into the living room.

"Oh Peter. What're you doing here?" He asked.

"Come on. It's the sleepover we've been planning for months. The one we begged my Aunt to let us have, you've got to be joking right?" I asked scared of the answer.

"Oh, no I don't. I was busy with Flash, he's such a cool guy you know." Mr. Stark told me. "Why don't you go work on something in the lab while I finish this movie with Flash. Then we can all do something together." He suggested.

"Sounds great." I mumbled as I slowly moved back to the elevator to go to my lab.

Hours passed in the lab and there was no sign of Mr. Stark anywhere. It's as if he forgot me. I had finished upgrading my suit, multiple times, tested it and managed to build new web shooters from scratch. He never came.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y show me Mr. Stark." I requested.

"Of course Peter." She responded, even she sounded like she had sympathy for me.

The image she showed me broke my heart. Mr. Stark and Flash were sat on the couch, likely not even left since I last saw them, laughing with each other. Laughing at me.

"And then he just fell, like out of no where. Didn't trip over anything, just fell. The whole cafeteria laughed at him while I got up and ran away crying like a little baby." Flash told the traitor. Lies. He had tripped me while I was getting my lunch and it split all over my clothes and the floor.

"Oh my God, how pathetic." Mr. Stark said through tears of laughter.

Speaking of tears, I felt my own eyes welling up. How could he? After all we had been through with the Thanos snap, how hard he tried to get me back. How could he do this to me? He even called me son a few times, I sometimes called him Dad by accident but he never let me live it down.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y stop." I requested through sobs.

"I'm sorry Peter. Should I inform Mr. Stark of your distress?" F.R.I.D.A.Y asked with as much sympathy as a robot could as the image disappeared.

"No, he probably wouldn't care anyway." I told her as I heard footsteps coming towards the lab.

"What's up Penis? Upset that I'm closer to Tony?" Flash taunted as he entered my lab, something only Mr. Stark is allowed to do without my permission.

"No. Just overwhelmed." I told him wiping my tears away and getting angry.

"Well, Tony told me to come down and let you know that we may have to reschedule the whole sleepover thing." He told me smirking.

“Why?" I asked.

"We've just made plans, more important than any of yours." He told me leaving the room.

I broke down crying, what's happening. Just a few days ago everything was normal, what changed? Soon heavy crying turned into a full blown panic attack. Great.

"Mr. Parker Mr. Stark has been notified of your current state. He said he'll be here when he can." F.R.I.D.A.Y informed me making it worse.

There was a time when he would drop everything to make sure I was okay. He walked out of numerous meetings, one was with the president, because I was the slightest bit panicky. Now, having a panic attack on the floor below him he's all of a sudden too busy. Too busy with Flash.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y call Nat please." I requested through sobs.

"Peter? What's going on are you okay?" Nat's voice rung out immediately, she picks up fast.

"No. Can you come to my lab please?" I requested calming down slightly.

"Of course. Where's Stark?" She asked as I heard her moving around and a door slam.

“He's, uh, with someone. Too busy to come down and help me." I told her making it worse again at the thought of it. He's basically abandoned me for Flash.

"Okay I'm 5 minutes away. Stay calm." She instructed.

Less than five minutes later Nat came bursting through the doors Mr. Stark in tow. He was holding his ear making me feel like she'd dragged him down here aggressively.

"What's this for?! Me and Flash just got the crucial plot point of the movie!" Mr. Stark yelled at Nat.

"This is more important! You left him down here to have a panic attack on his own! He had to call me to come and help! What's wrong with you?!" Nat yelled back and she walked over to comfort me.

"I told him I would be there when I could, a.k.a, not at the crucial plot point of the movie!" Mr. Stark responded making Nat send daggers at him.

"That's not as important as the welfare of your intern, the person you call your son. What's going on and who's that person in the living room anyway?" Nat growled at him.

"My names Eugene 'Flash' Thompson. I'm Tony's new intern." Flash introduced himself sticking his hand out for Nat to shake it. Strange, I didn't even know he was here.

"Leave. Peter's Tony's intern." Nat growled at him pushing his hand away.

"Not anymore. I decided to hire Flash instead, sorry Peter." Mr. Stark informed me with very little sympathy in his voice. "You can still intern, just not for me."

"Stop talking before I throw you out of this window." Nat warned. "Why all of a sudden do you think Peter's not good enough? You were calling him your son not even two days ago!" Nat yelled.

"Realisation I guess. I realised that the future of my company should be left with someone strong and willing. Not someone who trips over noting in the middle of his school cafeteria." Mr. Stark told her, her eyes went red.

"I didn't trip over nothing, Eugene shook his foot out for me trip over. He's been tormenting me for years." I explained hoping to make Mr. Stark see his fault.

"Now you're lying to me?" He accused glaring at me. "If that's true then why didn't you tell me before hand? Convenient it only comes up now."

"I never told you because I could handle it. Didn't know it would lead to you being the ultimate back stabbing traitor." I growled at him finally standing my ground.

"Don't call me a traitor when you've just lied to my face. I want you out of my building and out of my life." Mr. Stark told me making Nat, once again, glare daggers at him.

"You're utterly delusional. You kick him out you loose me, no more black widow." Nat threatened standing right infront of Mr. Stark, challenging him.

"Fine, I've got everyone else on my side. Wish I could say you'll be missed." He told her smirking.

Next thing I know Nat grabbed my arm and bags before leading me out of the building. We walked passed Happy and Pepper who both stopped us to say sorry and promise that they'll speak to Tony. Nat told them not to bother as he won't change. Happy offered to drive us home but Mr. Stark called him to say that if he did he'd be fired. He still offered but I couldn't let him loose his job over me.

"I'm so sorry for this Peter. I tried to tell but he won't listen, I'll try and fix this I promise. You have my word and my number should you need it. He won't realise what he had until he lost it. You'll both be missed." Pepper sobbed as she hugged me tight, my surrogate mother.

"The offer of a ride still stands, he'll die without me and he knows it. If he fires me it's his loss." Happy told me placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No it's fine, you shouldn't be getting roped into this, this is my mess." I told me making everyone sigh.

"This is not your mess, it's Tony's and soon enough I'll make him clean it up. You have my word." Pepper promised before Mr. Stark walked up to us all.

"If you don't leave now I'll have security kick you out." He growled at me only making me want to cry in a corner somewhere. I've truly been abandoned by my only father figure.

"Fine, we're leaving." Happy said grabbing my shoulder and leading me and Nat out of the building. Did he just quit?

"Did you just quit?" I asked him.

"Yep." Was his short response. Dear God, what has this turned into?

"You'll never be hired again if you walk out those doors." Mr. Stark threatened.

"I'd rather live on the streets than work for you and that brat upstairs." Happy told him before we all walked out of the building.

"This is real. I've been abandoned." I spoke finally admitting it before breaking down into tears.

Nat quickly comforted me and we started to make our way back to my apartment. This is going to be fun to explain to Aunt May.

-2 months later-

It's been two months since Mr. Stark abandoned me and my life has taken an interesting turn. After a day or two everyone had found out about what had happened and boycotted anything to do with Mr. Stark. They never went to meetings, either towers, training sessions and even missions. Pepper left him the night he abandoned me. Mr Stark was truly alone except for Flash, many employees quit and his sales took a hard hit once word got out to the media. My name wasn't mentioned but Flash's was, this made my school life so much harder as Flash now believed he was some sort of celebrity.

Happy drove me to and from school everyday in his own car. He and my aunt had become really close over the past two months and I've started to have the suspicion that they may be dating. Probably. Nat barley left my side if it was necessary, she even sneaks around school sometimes just to make sure I'm okay, I'm far from it. School has become even more of a nightmare than it already was. Flash's taunting became worse and physical, most teachers turned a blind eye in fear of Mr. Stark. Ned and MJ left me after claiming that I was just pathetic, hard to disagree if I'm honest, and everyone of my teachers has become so much harder on me. Life just isn't good right now.

-Two years later-

Two years. Two years since the faithful night and life has become good. I graduated with great grades, despite me not having the best time in school in the past few years and teachers becoming extra tough on me. I passed with mostly As and A+s. after graduation I got a scholarship to Cal tech and started my courses. I plan to open my own business, not to spite Stark, as fun as that would be, but to help those in need. I want to start a company that focuses on helping to poor and improving their living conditions.

-Ten years later-

My company was a massive success. I make cheap but reliable electronics that not only help the poor improve their lives but most of the profits go to improving their lives in other ways. Just last month I traveled to Cambodia to a town full of people so poor they had to buy their houses on rivers because they couldn't afford land. It was eye opening and we helped so much, buying land for them, helping them build stable homes and facilities, building toilets and other necessities. I feel great with myself if I'm being honest.

I've also recently come out at Bisexual with the announcement of me and my boyfriends engagement, Wade Wilson also known as Deadpool. Life's good.

Also, Flash took over Stark industries but it's not been going well. He can't run a business or build a piece of tech to save his life, the sales have plummeted and they've had to lay of hundreds of people in the past month. Most of which, came to me. Now, let me make this clear, I did not start my company to spite Stark and try and beat him. I started it because people like him and Flash don't care about the people who have less of a say, I look out for the little guy. Always have and always will.

I still continue with my spider man work and have received countless awards for my work helping the little guy. Weather that be a common mugging or helping people escape war torn countries. I found a way to build more houses and have more land while also expanding the rain forest and saving the environment. I have dedicated my life to helping others, I made the decision when I was fifteen and ten years later I still stand my it.

-Five years later-

Stark Industries went bankrupt. Flash had run it into the ground with failed experiments and an attempt to bring back the weapons department but with my work, it wasn't necessary. There were no more wars to fight and weapons were seen as a thing of the past.

"Peter please I'm sorry. Flash manipulated me to believe that you were less of a person. Please, I've lost everything because of him." Stark begged, tears brimming his eyes as he as me for a job in my offices.

First he asked for CEO but me and Pepper handles those duties. Then it was Public Relations but Steve and Clint have those conceded. He went through all jobs only to find them to be taken by those he once called his friends. Currently he's begging for a low-level position but I was willing to give him a second chance. He's suffered enough over the past fifteen years.

"Okay, here's a deal. I'll invest back into Stark Industries but you have to promise to help people. No more Eugene or decisions made by yourself. I'll try and convince Pepper to work with you again but I can't promise anything. It's not completely your fault Eugene ran your company into the ground and I'm willing to help but you have to work with me. You have to promise to help people and the environment, look at what I've achieved." I said gesturing to the office building on the 40th floor of our main headquarters.

Over the past five years Pepper and I had made some excellent business decisions and our profits sky rocketed, we have buildings all over the world and I became one of the richest men in the world. I still give back and if anything, I've given more back in the past few years.

More money. More resources. More output. More help to those who need it. World poverty has dropped to less than 10%, an immaculate improvement to the 80% of fifteen years ago.

"I promise. I don't think I can tell you how happy I am Peter." Stark told him smiling like an idiot.

-Another ten years later-

We did it. The rainforests were saved. No animals were near extinction. Both my company and Stark Industries were on the map helping those who need it, not many now though. World Poverty was less than 0.5% of the population and soon to be eradicated. We saved the planet and the people on it but most importantly, we made a flying car. Life was good.

#depressed Peter Parker #angst #avengers angst #peter parker angst #peter parker protection squad #domestic avengers #mean Tony stark #Tony starks a dick #Peter Parker being the bigger person #genius Peter Parker #betrayal #Peter Parker betrayal #loyal avengers #found famiky #avengers fluff #avengers family

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argumentl · 3 years

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The Freedom of Expression Ep 52 - Kami's avatar plan & Momotaro Dentetsu!? The aim behind the huge spread of conspiracy theories, and related Youtube videos.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome.

K: (To Tasai) You're wearing that.

T: I really like this, I wear it to all sorts of places.

K: Really?

T: Yes. Girls tell me I'm cool when I wear it, it made me feel kinda cocky. Haha

J: You should be!

K: When I saw this (on Tasai) I didn't realise what it was, I didn't remember it. Haha, like was this really ours?

T: When I first heard about this, I heard that Kaoru had made it with great detail, haha.

K: Well, speaking of Dir en grey, we've decided to release a new single.

*applause*

K: At this point it will be in Spring.

J: I see. I can't wait for it.

K: The song will be called 'Oboro'

J: How are you progressing with it?

K: Uh, at the moment we are just starting the mixing..we are at the start of February now.

J: So, like, you can see the finish line already?

K: Hm, well....yeh. We've all finished our parts.

J: Ah, I see. The members' performances are all over.

T: Uh, at the end of year announcement, the talk about the avatars, with Kaoru playing really high up, haha.

Kami: Um...um, are you gonna make a music video for it?

K: Eh?

Kami: You will make a music video, right?

J: Oh, a music video?

Kami: Yeah. Will you make it as an avatar video?

K: Well..we havn't really thought about it yet.

Kami: I am really interested in that, I really liked that idea.

J, T: Ehhh.

K: Thank you.

Kami: I kinda want you to make another one.

K: Oh, for the new song too?

Kami: Yeah, I really want you to make one for the new song.

T: Ah, but you said you havn't thought about that this time?

K: Not at this point, no.

Kami: Why don't you let me do it?

J: Haha

K: Eh? Let Kami make it?

J: Kami, do you have any talent for that type of thing?

Kami: Well, I mean, I reckon I could do it.

T: He reckons he could?

Kami: In my own godly way...I'd like to have a go.

J, T: Ohhh.

Kami: Thats right.

K: Will it work?

T: Haha

J: Yeh, because don't they usually do this type of thing in the workshop?

K: This is a brand new development, right?

T: Yeh, Im pretty surprised too.

Kami: I understand that, but I do think it would be good...like to have it reviewed in the workshop.

T: Ahh, like he wants to raise his reputation.

J: Yeh, but its quite ???*1. Kami, do you have confidence?

Kami:Yes, I do.

J, T: Ohh.

T: He's amazing.

J: Kaoru, he said he's confident?

Kami: Um, it might turn out kinda fun style though.

T: Fun style?

K: Fun style...we don't really have that image though.

J: Right.

K: Well...I'll have to ask the other members.

T, J: Yeh.

Kami: Kaoru, you are the leader, so there's no need to do that.

K: No no no. Its precisely because Im the leader that I have to ask.

J: Haha, yeh, just telling them out of the blue that the god from your own youtube channel will be making an avatar video..they would say thats not a leader!

Kami: No, but say something skillful.

K: Well, I'll just ask them.

T: I'm sorry to say this Kaoru, but I kinda wanna see this happen.

J: Really?!

Kami: A video produced by Kami..what do you think, Joe?

J: Well, it could be scary...

T: Haha.

J: Its not really about something incredible happening, its more like what is gonna come out of the limits of this god.

K: I personally don't have any problem with it, but as for Dir en grey, thats a group decision.

J: Well, yes.

K: It depends on that.

J: So, we'll hand the issue over to you for now to get the other members' approval.

K: Yeh.

Kami: Im being quite brave here, but I also have another request. I've had another idea.

J: You are being brash, aren't you?!

T: He is asking a lot today.

Kami: I thought it might liven up the show a bit.

J: Ahh, ok, go ahead...

Kami: Should we all play Momotaro Dentetsu together?

J, K, T: Momotetsu??

T: Ah, thats a good idea, I'm all for that!

Kami: Lets do it.

T: I really like Momotetsu..

K: Everyone's playing it recently, aren't they?

T: Yeah, its really popular at the moment.

J: I'm sorry, I reacted when he said the name..but I actually don't know what Momotetsu is...

T: Well, its a board game..

K: A board game style video game.

J: Oh right. What is 'tetsu'...like trains?

K: Yes.

T: Do you know Monopoly?

J: Yes, I know that.

T: Its like a train version of Monopoly.

J: Ahh, ok. Well, lets do it! Thats ok. How would we do it?

K: Well, we can think about that later.

J: Yes, ok..but that means its a posibility?

K: Will Kami play too?

Kami: Oh, yes! Thank you!

J: He sounds so happy, haha.

T: Kami, how will you join in with the game?

Kami:.....Yeh, how will I?

J: Yes, you tell us.

Kami:....how would I? I'd have to get some one to do it for me.

K, T: Haha

J: Like a representative of Kami?

Kami: Yeah.

T: Another person that we've never met will come, right? haha. Kami won't have met them, it will be a total stranger.

J: Dubious, right?

K: Ahh, but I havn't played Momotetsu in ages.

T: Ah, in the newest version you get stronger privileges, and its like you can make deliveries freely*2

J: So we are looking towards actually doing this, for now.

K: Well, yeah, its ok. We've got the start of two new plans.

J: Yep, one is a Kami produced avatar video for the new single.

K: Its not really 'produced by' though, more like 'made by'.

T: Making it on his own

J: Yeah, he's making it on his own for us.

K: Its more reassuring that way.

J: Haha, like, not in a collaboration?

K: I approve it of that.

Kami: Im making it on my own, but I don't have any money, so I want to get the money for it from you.

K: No, I can't do that.

J, T: Hahaha

J: He said he wanted to do it himself. He asked you if he could do it! If you want to do it yourself, you have to deal with the cost yourself.

K: This show has zero production cost anyway.

J: Haha, is that right? Thats tough.

T: We finally got a decent mic stand.

K: Yeah, but its kinda been reformed.

J: The mic stand fell over before didn't it?

K: ???*3

Kami: I don't have any money!

K: Well, it doesn't have to be that high quality.

J: Yeah.

K: He doesn't need a camera though.

J: No. So there are two conditions as for making an avatar vid: one is that Kaoru has to get the permission from the other members, and the other is that Kami has to cover the production costs himself.

*On screen note: Permission was gained from all members in the following days*)

T: Yeah. ????*4, like to show he's made it all himself.

K: Yeh, because if we paid for it, we'd have to approve the whole thing.

J: Oh, yeh, like an official check?

K: Yeah.

J: That would be a bit different. What do you think Kami?

Kami: If I make it, can I sell it?

T: Haha, 'If I make it can I sell it'??

K: No, you cannot. That is that is the biggest rule.

Kami: Oh, please let me sell it!!!

K: That totally depends on how good it is.

J: Right, you might allow it if it was outstanding.

T: Haha

K: Ok, Joe, lets look at today's topic.

J: Yes, 'A monthly income of ¥1million. Chaging tune during game commentary. What is the aim of the massive spread of conspiracy theories, and related Youtube videos?' Well, there is a lot of news surrounding the American Presidential election last year, but a huge amount of conspiracy theories and fake information is spreading even amongst Trump supporters in Japan. Within this are big ones like, 'Trump will unleash martial law, and mass arrests of traitors will begin', 'Nancy Pelosi has been arrested', etc etc. There are even theories that are circulating only in Japan, and which are spreading through Youtube videos and round up sites. Within those, there is one user who brings up such material in the middle of game commentary videos, and can make up to ¥1million per month. The posibility that they are doing it for the advertising revenue cannot be denied. Well, its like, is it ok to spread lies in return for money?... this news questions the 'freedom of expression'.

K: Well, conspiracy theories have been around for ages, havn't they?

J: They always have, yes.

K: But since covid started...there have been...like, a load of theories coming up about it, right?

J: Yeah.

K: I kinda get the sense that a lot of conspiracy theories about covid have grown to be seen as almost the truth.

T, J: I see.

K: You don't even know whats a conspiracy theory or whats real news now.

J: Well, yeah. In relation to covid, I also don't know what is actually correct. In some sense, there are certain voices that are louder than others, and if you mix in these conspiracy theories, you get this kind of....well, like with these protests in relation to the American election, or even without that, these theories do spread.

K: You kind of watch them in a funny sense to start, but then it feels like they gradually loose power.

J, T: Yeh.

K: There are people who will end up believing them though.

Kami: Um, that game commentator who is talking about conspiracy theories in order to make a profit, I don't like that. I want him to try harder, like, don't be influenced by money.

T: No no no. Kami has been talking about money a lot, haha

J: Yeh, like, 'Can I sell it?' He's only telling other people not to be influenced by money.

Kami: Yeah, gods are influenced by money...gods are. I kinda understand how this guy feels. I can't help it.

J: You can't help it?

Kami: Yep.

J: You can't help it for money?

Kami: Yeah, I take it back, its ok to be influenced by money.

J, K, T: Hahaha

J: Kami, you're weak!

T: That was a quick turnaround.

J: I was pretty shocked that this guy can make ¥1million per month though.

K: Well, if his view count grows...

J: Yeah.

K: Those numbers would be impossible for this show.

J: Haha, yeah, everyone please help us out with that. Even if we aimed to make ¥1million, conspiracy theories take up a lot of time, right?

T: Yeh, but how about we feature some conspiracy theories?

J: If we will get like this guy, right?

Kami: Ah, lets go with some conspiracy theories!

J, T: Haha

K: There are probably people out there really putting thought into making new conspiracy theories, aren't there?

J, T: Yeah.

K: It sounds pretty difficult. Like, what type of conspiracies would fly?

J, T: Right.

J: ???*5

K: Like Kami's?

J: Kami's conspiracy theories, haha. But it is difficult. Hm, eventually we'll have a 'Freedom of Expression conspiracy theories edition'.

T: Well, lets do more of this kind of stuff.

J: Tokyo Sports loves this kind of thing, doesn't it?

T: Yeah.

J: Do your sales go up when you feature this stuff?

T: Well, not really with conspiracy theories, but we sell at lot when we write about UFOs and stuff. People are really curious about things that are 'unknown'. They really are.

J: Hm.

K: Ok, on that note, lets finish here. Thank you very much.

*1,3,4,5 Couldn't catch/figure out

*2 I've never played Momotetsu so Im not sure if im understanding the explanation right.

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imaginingmanyfandoms · 3 years

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The Triwizard Tragedy

summary: a collections of moments between Rachel & Cedric before his death. Also her coping with his passing afterwards.

warnings: depression, ptsd (maybe), death

October 25, 1999 - The Present -

Rachel was constantly wrong, about a lot of things. For one, she was not the first person to ever feel the pain of lose. Second, she would eventually heal. But it didn't feel that way. Not to her. Not now.

In the dawn of war, Rachel had returned to her alma mater to fight against the very person who had taken away the love of her life. Cedric Diggory had died years ago, leaving a cocky, lovable Hufflepuff sized hole in her heart. For the last few years of her schooling, she had distractions from the pain left, right, and centre. In the midst of war she never really had time to grieve.

Of course, she never had any direct contact in battle with Lord Voldemort, but sending a few death eaters to their graves was enough. But that didn't make her feel better, instead the reminder that she had taken lives, even on a battlefield, had her waking up screaming in the middle of the night, traumatized by the memories of the past. The ghosts roaming her mind. It was like a constant stinging reminder that the pain she felt over losing Cedric, someone definitely felt about the men she'd hurt during the war. She knew she was on the right side, and those men were evil. But it still felt as though there was no coming back from ending a life.

Her best friend and roommate (until he moved in with Angelina Johnson, but that has never been truly talked about) is the only person that Rachel was really close with. Everyone else she knew was left at arms length. Never getting close enough to hurt her.

George knew what she was feeling, probably worse. He had lost the most important person in the world to him. And he'd never be the same. But he was managing. He had the legacy of the Wheezes, and he had his family. He had his fiancée and his best friend, who he was deeply worried about. He'd tried to talk to her about the clear PTSD and grief she displayed, but like a switch she would shut off whenever the conversation would start. Once she shut off, she was a robot for days, and he couldn't risk doing that too much for fear that something horrible would happen to her. He was afraid he was going to lose her to herself.

And he couldn't lose her.

You see, after the war, after feeling like nothing would ever be okay again. Rachel pounded on the door to the closed shop of the Wheezes. When George continued lying in Fred's bunk bed, she broke in. She climbed into bed with him and they stayed there for days. Leaving only to use the bathroom and eat. Then she snapped her fingers, and said, "let's get this baby back into business."

And just like that, they had a distraction to focus on instead of dealing with their pain. The difference between the two was that George would frequently talk to his siblings, and reach out to them when he needed support. Rachel was like a brick wall, and wouldn't say a word even as she wept alone in her room.

George couldn't let it go on forever, soon she'd die of a broken heart. So he did what any confused, young man would do. He ran to his mother and asked for help.

"I think that maybe I'm not the one who's going to pull her out of this, mum. I've tried but I think I'm too close to it to see what she needs."

Molly only smiled slightly, and took a day - with the help of Hermione, to head to the Wheezes and try and talk to Rachel. The store closed early on Sunday's, giving both Rachel and George the afternoon off. Ron took the entire Sunday since the mornings were slow anyway.

Rachel didn't notice at first that this was a gentle intervention, and put on a cup of tea for both of her guests. Hermione casually strolled around the shop, giving some space to Molly and Rachel.

Rachel served the tea.

"How are you doing, honey?" Molly asked, trying to sound as light as possible, not wanting Rachel to shut her out.

"I'm fine, store could use a little cleaning tonight, and I might get a head start on the inventory night for tomorrow."

Molly suspected she'd be filling her time with distractions this week. Saturday would've been Cedric's birthday. Molly thought for a moment, and decided to just go for it, and fill Rachel's head with Cedric before Molly could be shut out.

"How old would he be?" she asked. She knew the answer, but she needed to talk about Cedric. That was the root of Rachel's pain.

Rachel quickly went as stiff as a board, as her head filled with images of the boy she loved so much. The boy who took her heart and died with it still in his possession.

"What is this?" Rachel asked, standing from the table. "How dare you?"

"I just want to help you, Rachel. You're wasting away in here. We're worried about you," Molly said, "We love you and we want to help."

"Who's we? You and Hermione?" Rachel asked, Molly stayed quiet. "Did George put you up to this?" Rachel sighed. "Of course he did. Well if I'm causing this much stress maybe I should just get out of his hair then."

Rachel left the room, and climbed to her bedroom. Angrily, she threw clothes into a trunk, crying and repeating how everyone should just leave her alone. She sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets in her hands until her knuckled turned white. She had pushed Cedric out of her mind for so long, and his memory was like a dam bursting, filled her head until she was drowning in her pain.

November 16, 1992. - Fourth Year -

Rachel held her potions textbook tight against her chest, willing this git Marcus Flint to give her back her essay. He persisted in trying to get a kiss from her.

"Come on, who says Gryffindors and Syltherins have to be enemies? We can be sweethearts instead," he said, grinning.

Gross.

She rolled her eyes, and once again told him to just give it back. She didn't have time for this, it was almost dinner time and she had plans to meet her friend afterwards to play chess. Also, she just didn't particularly care to be harassed.

"I'm not giving it back until I get a kiss, love."

"Not happening," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, then I guess I'll keep this. I don't need it but I bet I could sell it to someone in your year. Last chance, love."

"Give her the parchment back, Flint," a boy said, approaching the pair. He was a Hufflepuff prefect, and absolutely stunning. She knew him as Cedric Diggory, all the girls did. He was in the year above her, so there was no way he knew who she was. She felt her cheeks heat up as Cedric came to save her homework. She could've turned into putty right then and there.

"Who's gonna make me? You? You've got no power over me, Diggory."

"No, you're right about that. Except I am a prefect, and I would hate for Snape to hear about this, I really would."

"He'd take my word, he wouldn't believe you."

"He'd believe her, top marks in his class you know. Above all the Slytherins," he said, smirking. "And he'd know you definitely didn't write that. All the words are probably spelled right."

"And if I rip it right now, burn it even. How are you going to prove it?"

Rachel saw Snape rounding the corner only a few feet away from where they were standing. He had an extra sour look on his face, the kind of face he made when he knew he'd have to discipline someone from his own house. Marcus hadn't noticed him approach yet.

"I won't have to."

"I'll take the essay, Mr Flint," Snape said, putting a hadn't on Marcus' shoulder. Snape unrolled the essay, skimming over it briefly. "You disappoint me, Mr Flint. Five points from Slytherin, and an essay on why stealing is wrong to be on my desk by the end of tomorrow."

Snape looked at Rachel and scowled, before giving her back to essay and leaving. Marcus huffed off as well.

"Thanks, I really didn't want to do that twice," she said. She wanted to ask how he knew she had top marks, but she figured he was bluffing. Good thing Marcus hadn't called it.

"No problem, Rachel. Happy to help," Cedric said, walking off.

She took a breath and began walking towards the Great hall, before stopping dead in her tracks and turning around in time to see him turning the corner, out of her sight.

He knew her name?

October 25, 1999 - The Present -

The pain in her chest was agonizing. It was like her chest had been set on fire, while her mind filled with water and froze. The tears continued to fall, as her white knuckles began to fall numb. She was suffering. She'd never really let herself grieve over Cedric. She stuck to distractions, and numbing herself.

Turns out she couldn't stop the pain, only postpone it. And today it was coming back with interest.

Rachel heard the door open, and relaxed her hands, letting the blood flow return, making her hand tingle with pins and needles.

She looked up and saw Hermione peeking her head in. The girls used to be a lot closer than they were today. That was how it was with pretty much anyone that used to be close with Rachel. After Rachel's sixth year, aside from Fred and George, she'd pushed away everyone, and shut them out. Refusing to give anyone the power to leave her.

"He would've been 22," Rachel said, her voice no louder than a whisper. Hermione said nothing, but continued to look at Rachel. She'd never seen her look so weak. It was always hidden. Suffer in silence.

"Not to say you're wrong to miss him, and hurt over the fact that he's gone. But we've all lost people. And we've survived by dealing with it. That's all we want for you, we just want you to experience life again." Hermione sat down on the bed next to Rachel, and put a soft hand on her shoulder. Rachel genuinely couldn't remember the last time she'd been shown physical affection from anyone. She hadn't hugged anyone since Fred died. “We miss you.”

“I think I miss me, too.” Rachel sighed. “But I miss him, more.”

February 12 - Fourth Year -

Rachel crossed paths with Cedric Diggory again, less than a week later. He was standing in front of the Great Hall, talking to a friend of his – Jon, she thought his name was. And she was passing by, trying to escape without having to make eye contact with him. She knew that if she saw his beautiful smile, or the way his grin made it up to his eyes, letting you know that everything about him was genuine. It made her sick. Made the butterflies in her tummy jump to life, like a toddler was running through and disturbing them.

“Hey, Rachel!” Cedric said, thwarting her plan. “Wait up.”

She had no choice to, there was no way to pretend she didn't hear him. She turned around with a forced smile. Small talk is easy to fake, just get through it.

“You okay?” he asked, his grin fading into concern and he put a hand on her arm, immediately setting it on metaphorical fire.

“Yeah, uh, I just need air.”

She ran away.

From the cutest boy in the world.

She ran.

Was she ever embarrassed.

She made it to the entrance of the school, and sat on the top stair. Putting her head in her hands and trying not to cry of embarrassment. When the guy you develop a crush on touches you... don't run away, maybe? A couple of deep breaths later, and someone joined her outside. Cedric had followed her out here? Why? He didn't even know her.

“You're pretty quick,” he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. She said nothing. “You want to talk about anything?”

“How'd you know my name?”

“Uh, we met last year.”

She shook her head. “No, why didn't. I would've remembered that.”

A blush crept onto his cheeks, and he looked away from her. Now she was really confused. “I might have asked your friends about you.”

“What? Why? They never said anything.”

“I kind of lied to them, and said I was just trying to learn everybody's name. They pointed out like forty people before they got to you. Funny thing is, I don't remember any of the other names. I was just anxious to get to yours.” His grin was back on his face, but his cheeks still held the ghost of a blush.

“Why me?” she asked.

“Because I think you're beautiful,” he said without skipping a beat.

Rachel blushed, her eyes growing wide. He chuckled when she looked away. Between the pair of them the only pattern was a 'blush and turn.' Casually, Cedric slide closer to her, so their thighs were touching, and from the corner of her eyes she saw him drumming his fingers against his knee. With a relax face, and natural smile she looked over at him, and tried to find an ounce of a lie in his features. When she couldn't find one, she settled for just smiling at him. He smiled back. When she thought the moment was ending, he was planning to start a new one. He moved his hand up to her neck, and ever so gently guided her closer, giving her every opportunity to move away. When she started moving with his advances, he smirked. Drawing her in for the final collide of a kiss. They both knew they were goners, right then and there.

Hogwarts was truly magical.

October 25, 1999 - Present Day -

“I can't think about it anymore, Hermione. It hurts,” Rachel said. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” she said, tearing up. Hermione felt pain in her chest watching Rachel breakdown. Was t weird for her to admit it was better to see her breakdown than shut down? Felt like they were having a break through. “Tell me about the day.”

“Which day?”

“The day he died.”

“No, no, no, no...” she kept repeating no, but Hermione stood her ground.

“You need to talk through your feelings. I have all day. Just start stalking and if you need to stop and cry, or collect your thoughts. Fine, that's absolutely fine. But I'm afraid if you wait any longer your going to permanently stunt your emotions.”

“It hurts...”

It felt like Hermione was forcing razors down her throat. Felt like she was fighting against drinking a lava smoothie. If she recounted the day, after all these years. She could no longer deny he was dead. Could no longer hope that one day he'd walk through the door as if he hadn't missed a day. Could hold her and tell her everything would be fine.

June 24, 1995 - Fifth Year -

She sat crossed legged on the bleachers, on edge just as everyone else was. She was so hoping that Cedric won. She'd be so proud of him. Her boyfriend, the Triwizard Champion. Even thinking the words made her excited.

“I thought you hated the idea of the whole thing,” Hermione said, eyeing her friend.

“I've come around to it,” Rachel said, smiling. “He's been so proud of himself. And I've been proud of him. And I'll admit, every time he completes one of those challenges, and he's all proud and sweaty... it's pretty sexy.”

“You're shameless,” Hermione said, laughing.

“Maybe.”

Then someone appeared back at the start of the maze. Harry came back first, he won! Rachel got ready to cheer, happy that at least Hogwarts won if not Cedric. But then she noticed something else.

“Is he knocked out?” Hermione whispered, talking about Cedric.

There was a commotion down there, and immediately Rachel was fighting and shoving her way down the the area. She hopped over the wall and made it, staring at the body of her body, lying lifeless on the grass. She heard things going on around her, but she couldn't make out details. The air around her felt thin, she couldn't breath. She felt dizzy, and confused, and upset. What was going on? What happened? It's okay, he's just petrified she kept repeating in her head. But she knew that wasn't true.

On her arms she felt two cool, firm hands. She looked and saw Professor McGonagall gently shaking her, and telling her not to look. The words, Do you hear me? Rachel, don't look! Don't look! Didn't even register with her. She kept staring at Cedric's face. His beautiful face. Frozen.

Cedric wasn't going to wake up. He died out there. The air got thinner. And her throat got tighter. But she didn't even realize she was dizzy – she just kept staring at Cedric until tears streamed down her face. But it wasn't even crying, she just hadn't blinked in so long. She couldn't stop looking at her recently deceased boyfriend.

“What's happening?” she asked, but it came out in a wheeze. And only a few seconds later, Rachel passed out, falling onto the ground like a ragdoll.

October 25, 1999 - Present Day -

After recounting every second of that day, Rachel wept for another twenty minutes before the tears finally stopped.

“I never got to say goodbye. There was so much wee were supposed to do. So much I had to say. So much left,” she said. Hermione still hadn't spoken. “I was so mad at him, Hermione. For weeks I was so mad at him. I kept thinking, I knew this tournament was going to be a horrible idea. And I begged him not to enter. I begged him, but he did it. And I supported him – like a girlfriend is supposed to. And then he died. And I was mad.” Rachel didn't start crying again, but her throat tightened and she felt like it could start at anytime. “How am I supposed to move on from perfection? From someone who loved me so genuinely, and selflessly? From someone who didn't break up with me but is just... gone.”

“You don't move on,” Hermione finally said. “He's never going to leave you. He's always going to be a part of you, you have to know that by now. I get that you feel guilty for living when he isn't, but you have to remember he wouldn't want you to waste your life. He wanted more for you than anyone. You don't move on, you don't forgive and forget. You forgive and carry on his memory, because that's all you can do. And one day, when your kids, or my kids, or George's kids... someone, asks you about your first love. You tell them. You tell them that you fell in love with a beautiful guy who was a perfect gentleman. And you tell them that you still love him, and you will always love him. But love doesn't stop because a heartbeat did.”

Rachel sat unmoving during Hermione's whole speech.

“Did you rehearse that?” she asked, smiling.

Hermione laughed. “Yes I did.”

For the first time in years, Rachel thought she might be okay one day. She just needed to let them in. Let her friends back in.

June 1, 1995 - Fifth Year -

“Not still mad at me, are you?” Cedric asked, sitting between his girlfriend's legs, propping his elbows on her knees and sinking back into her chest. Even, yes, she was still mad – she loved when he tucked himself close to her. She continued reading her book without answering him, letting go with one hand to get comfortable. She raised the book above his head, and set her now free palm on the grass, feeling the blades between her fingers. “C'mon, babe! Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen.”

She sighed, and closed her book with one hand, making sure to use enough pressure to let it slam with a clap. “They cancelled these games because people kept dying, you realize that?”

“I'm not going to die,” Cedric said, stretching himself up to nuzzle his nose against her neck. She sighed contentedly at the softness of his hair, brushing against her sensitive neck. He laid a few gentle kisses on the skin there, before slacking back down to his original lazy posture. “Cute that you're so worried about me though.”

“It's not cute,” she said, rolling her eyes. She set her book down and wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing the side of her head against his. He laughed, and turned to kiss her cheek.

“I love you, always and forever.”

She sighed happily. “I love you, forever and always.”

#imagine #imagines #cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

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fiveisnumber1 · 3 years

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Oh those teen!Penn scenarios are amazing. I definitely think it would be funny pre-Runaway Five cuz there's this kid who's a spitting image of Five and Reader and he has to pretend it's some big coincidence for as long as he can get away with it.

And post Runaway Five it would be just as funny cuz the Teen!UA have no perception of what's going to happen so Penn's very existence is shocking for them but also somewhat sad.

I feel they'd see his random ticks. Like he frowns and twitches in irritation the Exact same way Five does when he can't figure out a problem. And his laugh is exactly the same as Reader's to the point that Diego sometimes has a heart attack and runs into the parlor to find Reader but instead it's Penn there. And one time Vanya is making Five's nightly PB and M sandwiches and Penn is in the kitchen too and looking eagerly l and then her eyes fill with tears cuz he looks so much like Five did when making himself a sandwich; so eagerly childlike amidst his stoicness. It's the only thing young!Five allowed himself to enjoy so openly and Penn inherited his love of them too. So Vanya promises him she'll make him one too and Penn just BEAMS the way Reader used to when Vanya finished playing one of her new songs for her and Penn gives her a hug with a "Thanks Auntie V" and it's just so so hard for Vanya to not cry. And Ben comes across Penn bookmarking the pages in a book the same way Reader did and Penn looks at him with concern the same way she used to as well and he misses her so much because she understood him and he misses Five too because he was the only sibling that did his best every mission to make sure Ben didn't have to use his powers and that the rest of them killed the criminals without the horrors being needed. Just the Hargreeves noticing Reader and Five in Penn and missing them even more cuz we need that angst.

However, I feel like Penn would be an uncontrollable little shit regarding Reggie. Penn absolutely loathes his grandfather (all the Hargreeves cousins do). Reginald finds out about this superpowered kid and thinks it's Five come back cuz he sees the flash of blue from the blink. But then he sees Penn who snorts derisively when he sees Reggie.

Reginald: Interesting. You're not Number Five. Who are you?

Penn: No one you need to concern yourself with.

Reginald: Have his lippy attitude too

Penn: His and Mom's

Reginald: His son then? Makes sense Reader would be your mother. They did have a special connection to each other and she was worse than him when it came to that sharp tongue.

Penn: *sarcastically* Nothing you don't deserve. Much less, actually.

Reginald: *ignoring the insult* What can you do then? Do you have his powers? Hers? Or both?

Penn: None of your beeswax Old man. I ain't here to be tortured by you the way you did to Dad. Oh and he TOTALLY could Time Travel by the way. Guess the great Reggie ain't so great and all knowing at all huh?

Reginald: I never said he couldn't. Just that he wasn't ready

Penn: And Dad proved you otherwise anyway. Funny how easy it is to do that. I'm not showing you what I can do. It none of your business.

Reginald: I'm your grandfather. I taught your father everything he knows. His tutelage would hardly be sufficient for your full potential considering he left in the middle of it.

Penn: *laughs mockingly* No you didn't. He taught himself. He was born with what he could do and so was Mom. You're just an Ordinary. Old. Man. Can't take credit Dear Gramps. Everyone in this room is more powerful than you.

Teen!UA: *scared but impressed and also inspired*

Penn: Also his tutelage is better than yours anyway. I decide how much I want to learn and what Mom and Dad teach me. Just more proof they're better parents than you.

Reggie: *is speechless* (with offense or horror at Penn's "wasted potential" no one knows)

Penn: Anyway I'm gonna go ask Grandma, you know the grandparent that actually does know how to love her own kids and grandkids, to make me some cookies while I wait for Dad to come and get me. Unlike you, he actually cares about where I end up when mistakes are made.

Just Penn making up for every single jab and harsh truth Five and the Hargreeves couldn't give to Reggie when they were children because they were too young and terrified to know better.

When Five finally does show up to get Penn, Five hugs him instantly and looks him all over for injuries and Penn hugs him back and says "Thanks for being the best Dad" and Five feels overwhelmed cuz he wasn't expecting it but it's good to know he's not Reginald especially after meeting him again. And the Teen!UA realize even further that parents are supposed to keep you out of danger instead of sending you into it and berating you if you avoid getting hurt.

Bonus: Penn tells past!Grace she's Five's and Reader's son and Grace loves her children and she'd love her grandchildren too and she just smothers him with love because she missed her little boy so much and it makes her so happy to know that Five eventually has a son. (We need to include Grace in more of these. She deserves best mom award).

(Im really attached to these Time Travel Penn headcanons now so sorry if it's all I talk about for the next how many asks xD)

I love all of this, but now I have some more ideas.

1) Reginald tries to get the Teen!UA minus Vanya to fight Penn so he has to demonstrate his powers. Of course at this point he knows how to counter them without actually demonstrating anything so he just stands there with a cocky smile similar to his dad’s as Reginald becomes more and more infuriated.

2) Grace says that she misses Reader playing the piano so Penn takes his grandma’s hand and leads her to the parlor. Penn spots the piano in the corner of the parlor all covered up and dusty showing it had been untouched for years. Penn becomes a little sad because he realizes the last person to touch the piano was his mom as a child before she went missing with his dad. He pulls the cover off, sits down and starts to play it for Grace just as well as his mom. The teen!UA are off around the house but when they hear the piano echo through the house they’re all drawn to it. Teen!diego and Vanya are so uplifted and so sad about it because they see so much of the reader in Penn and it’s nice to know she’s doing well but it also hurts because she’s not there. At some point he asks teen!Vanya to play with him and she almost cries again because he asks for the song that was Vanya’s favorite to play with reader.

3) Teen!Klaus is curious about the future and his future self so Penn tells Klaus a bunch of lies about it because it’s funny.

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tomsrebeleyebrow · 4 years

Text

heavenly yours (part 2/3) | th x fem!reader

Heavenly Yours – a chaotic series

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | epilogue

Summary: A few years passed since Tom’s exile happened. (Y/N) lost every single sparks of joy and desire to live after assisting to the tragic fall of the on the one she secretly loved. Nevertheless she continues doing as if nothing happened and mostly to stay safe from the Superior Angels. But strangely, deep inside her heart, she could still… feel him… sense him? But why? And how? Until all her questions were answered the day a devilish stranger appeared right in front of her the evening she wanted to disappear forever.

Pairing: Demon!Harrison x Angel!Fem!Reader (enemies to friends relationship)

Warnings: major angst with dark thoughts (depression, mention of suicide), natural nudity (you don’t shower dressed up right?) and a little bit of cocky/dickish Harrison so beware!

Words count: 7643 (jesus)

A/N: first of all, I wanted to wish you guys a late Merry Christmas and a late Happy New Year 2020!! 🎄🎉 I’ve been busy because I’m still in Australia at the moment for vacation but I still manage to find some time to write this part little by little 😅 I hope you will like it as much as I loved writing it, and I’m so glad for all the positive comments I received for the first part… I’m still open to constructive criticism so!! So enjoy this loooooong new part!! 😂💖

masterlist | series masterlist

long italic paragraph is a flashback

A void.

An entire existence thrown into a black hole.

(Y/N) slowly wakes up from another fitful night, her tired eyes getting used to the rays of lights going through her window, her body curled into a ball on her soft but cold silk bed sheets.

Another day...

She finally rises her upper body and sits while letting a sigh out her lips, making the white sheet cascade and fall on her bare thighs. Her wings still shrivel on her back and her eyes, once bright and sparkling, look in front of her into nothing. Deep into emptiness. This emptiness she feels since that night from… a long time ago.

“Today has been… six years, maybe?”

How could she forget the night her lover sacrificed himself because his only wish was to prove and show all Kingdom of Heaven that two angels could love each other? Love. A bannish word up here. Something forbidden because associated with the Underworld of Hell. Hell… The place Tom fell into while protecting her.

That damned night…

After the horrific scene she had to watch against her own will, (Y/N) flies back to her house as fast as she can, hoping to arrive soon. When she lands again on the ground in front of her door, she leans against it because she couldn’t trust her own legs, shaking of fear and distress. Her breathing is louder and her eyes now red because of her constant crying, puffy and still wet with tears.The sobs don’t stop… don’t want to stop. The still vivid image of Tom falling into the open crack beneath him, weak and hurt, keeps playing in (Y/N)’s mind and it only makes her cry even harder. Trying to compose herself the best she could, a sudden thought crosses her mind: the Superior Angels could arrive here at any moment now.

Her entire body spins toward Tom’s house and not even thinking twice, she sprints inside it and closes the door behind her. She has been here a few times already and nothing has changed since the last time. A perfect copy of her own house - and as all the other angels -, with the same fournitures, the same colours and the same… now awful ambiance. Her lips tremble while looking at all this, thinking about all the beautiful memories she shared with Tom; him going to the kitchen to prepare them a meal, him bringing her tea and sitting on the living room couch next to each other, both of them kissing passionately at the front door before leaving, and so much more.

“I love you so much, princess” he would whisper in her ears while nobody was aware of it.

“You are the Sun that gave me life for a second time.”

“I will never leave you, you know that, right love?”

“We will make it work, I promise you angel face.”

All these precious moments they shared and now thinking that he will never be back here, where he used to belong. By her side. (Y/N) hurries and gathers anything she could; decorative pillows, sheets, fluffy covers, tones of his shirts, the usual mug he likes- liked to drink tea in, his cologne and other little objects that reminds her of him. When she is finally ready to leave with her arms full, she stops next to his bed again and sees a flower crown hanging up the bed frame. The one she made and offered him a few weeks ago. The flowers seem fresh as if they were picked today because nothing really aged up in Heaven. Looking at the crown neatly arranged, (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from touching the petals, delicately, and think about Tom having it on his head while smiling at her. Another tear slips away from her eyes as she blinks.

She will never see his angel face ever again.

Putting all the items on his bed, she hesitates a second but still grabs the flower crown to put it on her own head. Her heart skips a beat. She then gathers everything back in her arms and finally leaves the house of her lover for good, and goes straight to her own.

Feeling safe she hopes so, (Y/N) tries to organise what she brought back while memories from each object she touches keeps flowing her gloomy mind. She changed her sheets to replace them with Tom’s one, then puts some pillows on her couch and the other on her bed to create a safe space. She puts the shirts of the male angel in her drawer, next to her own clothes. And finally the flower crown is now placed on her coffee table with a round candlestick in the middle, a scented candle ready to get lighted up. Another sigh leaves her lips, feeling kind of satisfied with what she did and also a little calmed down. But she knows that all this could never bring her lover back. But she couldn’t bare to forget him.

Tugging the curtain to block the view from the street, (Y/N) walks to her bathroom for a well deserved shower. She removes her long dress and sandals on her way there, without a single care, then her lace panties and takes a look at herself in the mirror on top of the porcelain sink. Her face is such a mess, and every single part of it is red; her swollen eyes, her cheeks and her nose, and her lips puffy from her stressful bites. Leaning above the sink both hands grabbing each side of it, she lets her head fall for a moment, her hair hiding her tired face. When she calms herself from what happened tonight, she walks into the shower and lets the warm water loosen up her sore muscles. After some excessive time she steps out of the bathroom, letting the fog escape, and slips on one of Tom’s shirts. (Y/N) touches the some material with the tip of her finger, sensing the soft and fresh cotton covering her skin, like he is right here holding her body against his. She buttons it up and throw herself on her bed and wraps all the new covers and sheets around her.

Silence.

No sound coming out from the street, nor from Tom’s house. A silent cry still makes its way out her lips so she edges closer and closer into the fortress of her bed, surrounded by multiples pillows. Everything smells like him. But everything feels so cold and empty.

But she has to stay strong. For him.

She promised him, and she will make sure to keep her promise and so until the very end.

The day after, she tried to act as nothing was wrong and strangely, but mostly to her biggest astonishment, everything was the same. To everyone. (Y/N) passed the day doing what she had to do and every angel acted like Tom… never existed. They were all smiling to her, talking to her like every day, but never saying his name a single time. Deep inside, her guts were burning with rage? because of this, because everyone loved Tom, everyone trusted him to anything. And now, it was like he was never there, neither that fateful day when her human’s life stopped, standing together in front of the Heaven’s gates and meeting for the first time. Did they really forget, or someone made them forget?... But she kept going, she had to. Or Tom’s sacrifice would be vain. She was literally boiling, and nobody suspected that.

But the thing that bothered her in all that situation was that… she could still “feel” Tom - if that was the right word. Even her couldn’t explain that weird feeling that upset her inside.

* * * *

“Come on, (Y/N).”

Since that night, nothing really changed for (Y/N). Well, she didn’t really have a choice anyway. She takes a big breath in and finally turns all her body to the side of the bed. Bare legs hanging, her toes brushing the marble floor of her too perfect angel’s bedroom. Finally standing up, she stretches out her body parts to finish with her wings, the shirt she wears lifting to let her panties visible in the process. As she takes the pillows spreaded on the floor to arrange them again onto her bed, the young woman proceeds to start her morning routine - which basically consists in taking a shower, brushing and styling her hair, dressing up, having a little breakfast and going out - and without forgetting the most important since then: displaying the most faked smile she could have.

Always the same. Day after day.

What (Y/N) always finds funny in all her “comedy” - like she is used to call it by now - is that no one could see clear into it. Just thinking that their “adorable and perfect Angel (Y/N) is the happiest and caring angel of all Kingdom of Heaven, loyal and gorgeous and that she will always be the same and never change”... even though she assisted to the most traumatizing experience any angel could be aware of which definitely changed the idyllic vision she had of Heaven all along and that, in fact, awakened her from this dull utopia and set free all her past human emotions from a previous life. Yes, that’s pretty much it.

How funny is that.

At least she isn’t drawing any attention which is what matters the most.

* * * *

“Finally the end of the day!” (Y/N) sighs exhausted.

She had quite a busy day indeed. The young woman was assigned to manage the novice’s flying course of the day. Even with already knowing some of the little ones, having in charge a group of about fifteen young angels to teach them how to fly was so much work and a lot of patience.

All alone now, (Y/N) is walking to a secluded part of the Kingdom where nobody goes to when the Sun starts to fall, to then let the Moon be the new star of the Holy Sky. After some minutes, she arrives to that place she casually calls her secret garden. In fact it is in a garden but just a part of it, in a peaceful corner. Further back of the usual animated main place and hidden between sequoias and pine trees, (Y/N)’s secret garden is composed of a beautiful marble fountain aesthetically put surrounded by light stone benches and flowers in different vases. The sound of the running water fills the silence of the upcoming night. This place brings some joy back to the angel’s heart because this is where she likes coming to clear up her mind, and just admire the view. Speaking of which, it is the best place to watch the sunset. At the edge of the garden a blanket of clouds is spread to an infinite horizon, tinting it with a mix of gold, orange and red at this time of the day. Tranquility and quietness. Just what she needs. (Y/N) enters the spot and moves to sit on the bench right in front of this marvelous scenery. Some doves fly through the clouds and spin around to then land near the woman. One lands directly on (Y/N)’s knees and coos at her, making a soft giggle leave her lips. She takes the dove delicately between her hands, pet its immaculate feathers before giving it a peck on top of the head.

“You are such a lucky one, you can fly wherever you want and do whatever you want…”

The dove lets itself being petted by the female angel - not like its really minds - while the Sun keeps disappearing.

“Not like me…” comes out of (Y/N)’s mouth like a whisper.

Her brows bump together in a scowl, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent the tears to start forming. Another sunset. Alone. By herself. Prisoner in an ivory tower full of naivety that she wishes she could escape. But how? Could this be even possible? The young woman stands, keeping the dove safe with her, and starts to walk slowly to the edge of the garden. Here she is on her feet, facing the last rays of sunshine and this unknown world beneath the clouds. A nice breeze brushes her body making her hair and long silk dress dance in rhythm. At this feeling, her wings dare to spread out a little because the wind caressing their insides is so calming.

“Do you know what is under the clouds, little dove? I keep asking myself this since he…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, still looking in front of her.

There were some days she was determined to do anything to keep her mind busy, but other times she couldn’t even find any motivation to wake up. (Y/N) has thought more than once about leaving. Disappearing. Dying. Sometimes her surrounding was too suffocating, her head hurting at any sound, the air hardly making its way in her lungs, her heart being like crushed between her ribs, her stomach clenching even if empty, her legs too weak to keep her up. Everything hurt. It didn’t want to stop. Those days were the worst.

And so the woman keeps wondering each time she comes here what the clouds could possibly hide. Something good? Something bad? Something new? Something dreadful? Could a better world wait for her down there? Could… Tom be down there, waiting for her this all time to tell her that, in the end, everything was fine? And as it says that curiosity almost killed the cat, (Y/N) wanted to jump from the cliff to end this and know the truth. Maybe she will be finally set free and feel no more anger, no more rage, no more sadness and no more loneliness. Her love for Tom is still here, burning in her and engraved in her heart. But this love is lacking of… mutual love. And alas with the every last ounce of strength she has, she resists. Because Tom wouldn’t like letting his sacrifice be pointless. He wanted her to keep living her life and be happy. But how could she possibly be happy without having her lover by her side anymore? In the end (Y/N) doesn’t know what to do. But her whole body keeps hurting. So bad.

After interrupting her sour thoughts, the angel releases the little dove from her grip and lets it fly away. She doesn’t notice the warm tears on her cheeks yet, preferring to ignore them. Then she collapses on her knees as her body has to save the last sparks of energy to go back home later. She feels drained to the cord. Helpless. And still alone.

“Oh Tom… I can’t anymore… This is too much…” Her sobs starts echoing in her head. “This is too hard for me, I can’t… handle it anymore… I need you… So much…”

And her hands raise to hide her pitiful face in tears. Shoulders shaking like a leaf she feels as fragile as a porcelain doll, abandoned and so broken.

Today was definitely a ‘no’ day.

‘ What a poor little thing. ‘

(Y/N) jumps while letting out a squeal. Who could be here at this hour? Her head frantically analyses around her to see who the person observing her is. But nothing. Not a single presence. No one, not even a shadow.

“Who is here?!”

‘ You may not get too agitated, Angel or you will really end up falling from that cliff. ‘

The voice again. But still not the body associated with.

(Y/N) quickly stands up but not without staggering while doing so. She then distances herself from the edge of the cliff, panic still showing on her face and turns to the big trees surrounding the garden. Still nothing. Not knowing if she is in danger, the young woman still decides to open her angel wings wildly, ready to fly away at any moment.

“Show yourself! Now!” screams (Y/N), her voice ringing in the newly night.

‘ Don’t be so aggressive, it doesn’t match with your angelic face. ‘ the unknown voice replies with a snigger, ‘ ...Also I’m already here, angel face. ‘

Feeling a breath next to her ear, (Y/N) flings herself forward, next to the fountain. When she turns again in the direction of the voice, wings still on display, she can finally see who was tricking her this whole time but never did she imagine having a meeting like this. And this totally terrifies her.

A few feet away from her stands a young man. Maybe two heads taller than her. Blond messy hair, a bit brunette actually. Deep blue eyes as clear as the water of Heaven… but enormous black wings on his back slightly hitting the air, almost featherless and mostly skin showing. Dressed all in black, a thin shirt entirely open - and that (Y/N) tries not to look at because… just because you’re not suppose to do that? -, darted pants close to the muscles of his legs and waxed moccasins.

This man is a demon.

Demons. The nastiest, hazardous and menacing creatures that exist in the afterlife. The ones who have sinned while being humans, and that now pay for all of it by getting punished or by leaving another sinful life in the Underworld of Hell… Hell. The worst place that could ever exist. Where the lowest of the lowest are down here for eternity. Where the entire land is on fire, with not fresh but dry and smoky air which literally burns your lungs. Where nature has not its place. Where debauchery is the only way of living.

What in the world…!!

(Y/N)’s body couldn’t move. Scared. Frighten. Petrified. Her face becomes as pale as her wings, out of breath but heart almost bursting through her chest. Her legs don’t dare to move like sticked to the ground. All the hair of her body raises. Everything seems to get so much colder and morbid just by his own presence. Never (Y/N) would have imagined in her angel life being confronted to a real demon, she doesn’t even know this would have been possible!

Anyway, the devil man in front of her stays still and straight while fixing at her. An intense look that may be a mix of malice and vileness. A devious aura. Not a word is said between the two opposite beings. The only sound around may be the breeze that seems way colder that it originally was when the angel arrived here. Her wings start to curl up around her fragile body, even if she keeps trying to show some strength. (Y/N) wishes now she was not alone at this moment because she never heard or read about demons ascending to Heaven for any possible reason, and without being noticed by the Superior Angels. What was he doing here? And why?

‘ Such a pretty face, he definitely was right about it. ‘ said the devil man with a slight smirk showing on his face.

He takes a step to her. And (Y/N) takes a step back straight away.

“Don’t you dare come any closer” she threatens him between her teeth, “and how dare you come in Heaven?!”

‘ Well it’s not like I wanted to fly over here in the first place anyway ‘ the man says like he is pissed off, ‘ Not my kind of place if you know what I mean… ‘

“Then you better leave before you get in big trouble” she mocks him still going backwards.

Unfortunately the young woman couldn’t back up anymore because a tree blocks her way and now with her back pressed against it, she knows things would get harder.

‘ I didn’t know angels could retort with such anger, it clearly doesn’t match your character ‘ the demon adds, approaching (Y/N) bits by bits, ‘ But I guess he was right once again about it...‘

“What in the world are you talking about?! And who is “he”?!”

All this has no sense. And irritation is winning over (Y/N)’s fear.

‘ No need to rush things for now, angel face. ‘

In a snap, the devil man finds his way close to (Y/N) again, his body almost pressed against hers. She lets a short shriek out and tries to distance herself as much as she could, as if she tries to become as thin as a leaf to disappear at this exact moment. Her back pressed even harder on the tree trunk, the female angels tries to avoid his eyes and even to sneak past him. But his morbid black wings are in the way, fully stretched like they would engulf her small body. The angel makes her best to avoid meeting his eyes and avert them by shutting them tightly. Her heart beats even faster now and her hands start being moist, like her forehead. Is this the end?

‘ Hey come on, look at me ‘ says the man without sounding too bossy, ‘ ... Please? ‘

This sounds like a plead. And strangely (Y/N)’s heart tightens at the sound of his voice. Could a demon ever sound this pitiful, even in front of an angel? Not sure of herself - because a demon is and still will be a demon -, she dares to slowly open an eye to look at him and sees he hasn’t moved a single millimetre. Still standing tall, the man that once had cold eyes seems now more… calm and peaceful, almost harmless. With a closer look the intruder has a handsome face, with a sharp jawline and defined nose. His hair is in fact more brunette that it seems from far away, the blond slightly fading at the end of each lock. His blue ocean eyes are sharper they could freeze you on site, but long eyelashes are present to underline them and create a welcoming feeling. As she suspected before his wings are kind of featherless but the dark showing skin doesn’t look that hurt or rough, more like a second skin. And his body looks so firm she can totally could perceive his torso through the thin piece of black fabric that serves him of shirt. (Y/N) blushes at this proximity and looks away.

“What… do you want?” asks (Y/N) again, her voice wicker than before.

‘ I’m not here to hurt you so if you listen to me, I can tell you why I came up here. ‘

Again the soothing voice. This situation could end up in two differents ways: good or bad. No inbetween. (Y/N) learnt from the book she read that demons were never the bearer of good luck and could be the trickiest creature of all time. But her awareness is telling her a complete other story and she couldn’t guess why. She just feels it deep in her guts, as if it was a casual situation.

Finally the young woman dares to look at him in the eyes, again. And at this exact moment she sees his hand extend right to her face so she couldn’t help but flinch, thinking she got too naive by letting her guard down so quickly. But nothing happens. Indeed she feels a warm sensation on her cheek that then moves behind her ear. She gets even more surprised when, after opening her eyes, the demon is only caressing her cheek to replace her lock of hair behind her ear. She didn’t expect that. At all.

‘ I know since that day, everything changed for you so you will understand what I’m about to tell you ‘ begins the young demon, now curling another of her lock around his finger, ‘ So… care to listen? ‘

His hand leaves (Y/N)’s hair to stay along his body. But he proposes his hand to her to take, an invitation to join him. She thinks pretty fast because everything is getting messed up in her head - too many things happenings at the same time -, looking back and forth from his opened hand to his blue eyes. And she knows she has to listen to him. She feels it again.

So after taking a deep breath she carefully puts her hand in his, and the man closes it. Slowly and without breaking their gaze, they walk toward the fountain to sit on the side of it. The demon lets (Y/N)’s hand go and put his on his thighs. (Y/N) brushes her dress and copies the man’s position. A certain tension is obvious and could be cut with a knife. But still, the female angel doesn’t feel that much in danger anymore.

Silence. Just the sound of the water flowing in the fountain behind them, appeasing them. The night is now here, the sky fully dark. Tones of stars appear here and there and the nice breeze comes to cool down (Y/N)’s body. Her wings are not tensed anymore. But she still thinks about what the conversation will lead to.

‘ First of all, I’m Harrison. And I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, my devil side can be really douchey some time ‘ the demon, Harrison, introduces himself while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison… I guess?”

Such a casual conversation between complete opposite beings…

“And I-”

‘ (Y/N). You are (Y/N) ‘ cuts off Harrison. ‘ I know who you are already… Because I am here for you. ‘

“W-what do you mean... here for me?”

‘ Do not panic please, I know this sounds weird coming from a demon- ‘

“Oooh it sure is weird” (Y/N) cuts him off in return, letting out a nervous laugh while she fidgets with her fingers. And Harrison actually laughs at that too.

‘ Yeah sorry, this situation is awkward for both of us… But this is also really important. ‘

Harrison has again the same face as his arrival in Heaven. Sharp and serious. (Y/N) gulps silently and strengthens her back, ready to listen to him. After a few seconds, the demon begins to speak again.

‘ I know that you are different from the other angels here. You can feel varied types of emotions and not only happiness anymore. Anger, sadness, rage, sorrow, fear and so much more. ‘

(Y/N)’s heart misses a beat at his word.

‘ And surprise too ‘ slightly laughs Harrison looking at her, in fact, surprised expression.

“H-how do you know that? I mean-”

‘ I also know that you were in love, maybe still in love actually. And since the day you lost your other half, everything changed even more for you, mostly your way of thinking, am I right? ‘

(Y/N) couldn’t believe it. It is like she is an actual open book to him and it’s been like, what, maybe not even fifteen minutes and he knew her deepest secrets. It scares her. And she couldn’t form a simple sentence. So the angel simply nods.

“How in the world do you know… all that?...”

Her throat feels dry.

‘ (Y/N), I know who you lost that night. ‘

“Wait what-”

‘ Tom. The fallen angel. ‘

At the sound of his name she couldn’t prevent the sob that leaves her mouth. And some puzzle pieces start to get assembled.

“I-is Tom i-in H-?!...”

Not waiting for the end of her question, Harrison nods keeping his gaze. She puts her hand on her mouth to contain herself as best as she could, but the feeling is too strong.

Tom. The fallen angel.

(Y/N) now has the confirmation that Tom fell in Hell that damned night. She squeezes her dress in her fist and shuts her eyes. The simple thought of her dear lover being in Hell for so long saddens her the more she thinks about it. What have them done to him down there? Was he alright? Or was he… hurt? Tortured? Or even worse… She doesn’t want to think about it and so she tries to erase this horrific image from her mind.

‘ Tom the fallen angel, your lover, is in fact in the Underworld of Hell. But still alive. ‘

Alive.

Tom is still alive. In Hell, yes, but alive.

(Y/N) couldn’t believe what she heard. A sob finally breaks through the barrier of her hand and that’s when (Y/N) feels the weight of the world leave her shoulders for good. All this time, all these lonely days and nights, dwelling on this fatale night when she lost the most precious person she could have find in afterlife, and constantly blaming herself because she was still here, alive, and not him. But now everything changed and this self torture is over.

Her tears are not tears of sadness anymore, but tears of relief and hope. A smile even finds its place on the angel’s face. A real smile, warm and beautiful, like she used to show before it all declined. A smile that the male demon notices too, it even brings a shy one on his own face. Her once broken heart is now collecting each piece to gather them back together. And the woman understands why she could feel this weird feeling all this time. Because without really knowing it, she knew Tom, her dear Tom, was still alive.

“Oh my God… I-I’m so h-happy…” cries (Y/N), wiping some tears with her arms. “But i-is Tom… a-alright?”

Asking this question almost scares her. She doesn’t know what to expect.

‘ Don’t worry, Tom is totally fine. ‘ begins Harrison to soothe her a little. ‘ Not gonna lie, it was not easy for him when he was thrown to Hell but yeah, he kinda managed. This man’s got a tower of strength. ‘

The devil man prefers to avoid all the details of Tom’s arrival in Hell, to prevent her any more pain. In fact Harrison “met” the fallen angel since the first day and had to assist to each punishments and tortures he had to go through. At the time Harrison was passive and amused by the show because, well he is a demon after all, and these things were totally normal in Hell. But as time passed, Harrison started to admire Tom’s strength as much as physical and mental, not letting himself perish under the steady punches and cuts from the perfidious devils down there.

“Yes, he always was determined in anything he was doing” smiles (Y/N) to herself.

She then turns toward Harrison who is still looking at her.

“Excuse my rudeness, I’m so glad you told me Tom is safe and all but… is this the only reason you flew in Heaven? Just to… tell me this?”

(Y/N) couldn’t stop herself about all this. This looks too good to be true in a way and having a demon telling you all this is surely bizarre.

Harrison laughs, ‘ Don’t worry, angel face, you have all rights to wonder about it. ‘

(Y/N) returns his laugh, giggling. Who could have thought about an angel and a demon casually chatting together?

‘ So yeah my main goal was to find you because I was asked to. By Tom himself. ‘

Her laughs just stop.

“Wait- are you telling me Tom is the one w-who sent you here?!” she nearly screams at the demon, shocked. “How is it even possible?!”

‘ Calm down (Y/N), I’m telling you the truth. Because if I don’t, I will get in biiiiiig trouble with the man himself ‘ jocks Harrison but still with a nervous smile just by the thought of it.

“B-but why only now? W-why after for long?! I was b-by myself all this time, thinking h-he was…!!”

Harrison knew since the beginning that there will be a lot of explanations to give. But it was his mission, and he will make sure to accomplish it.

‘ (Y/N), you know he couldn’t do anything else at the time, am I right? Tom was thrown into the deepest depths of Hell because he sinned - because he loves you - so he couldn’t just fly back here in Heaven like nothing happened. ‘

That is true. And (Y/N) suddenly feels silly about her last comment. She is aware of all this since that night but it is like she wanted to ignore it… for her sake of living alone. Harrison notices her head and shoulders lower.

‘ Hey, no need to feel down. It’s normal to be selfish sometimes… well, in Hell at least… ‘ notes Harrison, trying to cheer her up.

His black wing softly touches her white one as if to tell her everything is alright. (Y/N) doesn’t rejects his touch and looks back at him, waiting for what is coming next.

‘ The reason Tom waited so long before contacting you again is because he had to survive. He went through a lot, trust me I was there watching him but he never gave up. You were his strength. All along. And you still are. He kept repeating he had to endure his sentence for you, to keep you safe and to go back to you. ‘

(Y/N) lets her tears flow again, without making a sound. Her and Tom were trying their best to survive separated from each other, but he definitely has been the one in the worst situation.

‘ And so, days and years passed. But in the end he did it. Tom survived and proved to Hell he was worse it. Such a strong minded guy was just what Hell needed at the time, so they gave him another chance. ‘

“Another chance?” repeats (Y/N) not really understanding what the demon means.

‘ To make it simple, Tom is now a demon. ‘

The rollercoaster of (Y/N)’s emotions goes straight down again at this statement. Tom is now a demon. Her beautiful and handsome angel who sacrificed himself many years ago became a demon as a second chance in his afterlife. This was too much for her. The sadness is clear on her face, furrowing her eyebrows and tensed body again. She then remembers him before he fell down, his wings becoming greyish as the Superior Angels said. And now they must be fully black, like Harrison’s ones. Her angel lover was no more. Her tears don’t stop but emphasized more.

‘ Hey (Y/N), it’s alright, don’t cry anymore ‘ Harrison tries to calm her again.

He dares to sit closer to her, caressing her shoulder to sooth her a bit. Both their wings are now close to the other. A perfect opposition. White and Black. Pure and Dirty. But strangely the mix doesn’t really feel bad at all. And so instinctively (Y/N) snuggles into Harrison’s chest, frightening him at first, to find maybe some comfort. It is such an uncommon situation for Harrison that he doesn’t know how to react. So he simply wraps his arms and wings around her. They stay like this for a few minutes, her sobs resonating in the heavenly night. It is still hard for her to accept the fact that Tom is now a demon, even if still alive.

‘ Calm down, (Y/N)... ‘ whispers Harrison while he wants to pull away delicately. ‘ Let me finish explaining okay? Then if you want to cry again, it’s alright I will endure it a little more ‘ he tries to joke again.

(Y/N) slightly slaps his chest and pulls herself away from him. She has now a light smile on her face, with wet cheeks and puffy eyes again. She wipes her face with the back of her hand and wait for the demon to talk again.

‘ So ‘ Harrison starts again combing his hair back with his finger, ‘ Tom may be a demon now but he actually chose to become one. For his and your sake. ‘

“W-what?! But why-”

Harrison quickly presses his index finger on the angel’s mouth.

‘ Let me continue? ‘

(Y/N) just nods.

‘ So it was Tom’s decision to become a demon. And then he had to learn to be one, which actually was not difficult. ‘

“B-but demons are… d-devious… n-nasty… n-not to blame you or w-what but-” mumbles the young woman kinda scared to offend the demon.

‘ I know (Y/N), but we all are not only as the books of Heaven describe us. We may had sinned as humans but we are not beasts, well not ALL of us actually… ‘

That surprises (Y/N). “You mean-”

‘ Each demon has his own personality like when they were humans. We don’t only live on sex and torture all day long. ‘

(Y/N) tenses. She read a lot of books available in the Heaven’s library and all she read about demons were not… good things, mostly just unholy manners and all. And now the devil man in front of her tells her a completely different story - not like she really minded but still. It even reassures her a little.

‘ And Tom is definitely not a sinful demon. Just so you know he made me changed to be the respectable demon I am now and that is why I vowed to serve him until the end. ‘

“Excuse me what did you just say? You… serve him??”

Harrison takes a deep breath before continuing, ‘ As the time flew by, Tom became stronger and gain respect of all the other demons. He has been proclaimed King of Hell and rules the Underworld since then. ‘

“K-KING OF-?!”

The words suffocate (Y/N), she couldn’t speak anymore. King of Hell. Of all the thing she could have imagined, the angel now doesn’t know what to think about. But if what Harrison told her is true, Tom would be… a good demon? That in fact sounds really weird. Is that even possible? Does this even really exist? But she still trusts Tom, and still loves him. She feels so confused from all the informations, not knowing what to think about first.

‘ And he wants you to join him. Now. That is why I’m here for. ‘

“Me? Going to Hell?! W-wait Harrison, are you joking or what?!” retorts (Y/N) standing up, still facing him. “I just can’t leave Heaven like that and-!”

‘ You are not happy here, (Y/N), and even Tom knows it. ‘ interrupts Harrison staying calm. ‘ When you both discovered your feelings for each other, you both hid all the time. And since he was left for dead, you hid your new trueself to those Superior Angels as Tom wanted you to. You changed, you are not the same anymore, like him. But since, he pulled himself together again and started a new life… in which he wants you in again. ‘

Leaving Heaven would mean being damned herself. And that scares (Y/N). Of course she wants to join Tom and be reunited with him but she doesn’t know if she could handle it. Her breathing accelerates but the air doesn’t fills the lungs fully. Watching her starting to panic, Harrison stands.

‘ (Y/N), listen to me. ‘ He puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her, ‘ Tom knows what he is doing, and that is why he waited for so long. He found every information he needed and now is the right time. Do you trust him, (Y/N)? ‘

“I…”

‘ (Y/N). Do you trust Tom? ‘ pushes Harrison.

“Yes I do.”

‘ Do you still love Tom? ‘

“Of course I do, with all my heart.”

‘ Then come with me and don’t worry, you will be safe. ‘

She looks straight into the demon’s eyes. And she knows he tells the truth.

“But I should bring some belongings before lea-”

‘ You don’t need to bring anything. Tom is waiting for you now and surely she will give you everything you need down there. ‘

“Harrison I-I don’t know if I’m ready or not…”

‘ You are, (Y/N). You have been for a long time. ‘

She gulps, her throat still dry since he arrived. This is it. (Y/N)’s is about to change again for good. She doesn’t feel ready because this is a major change - and a dangerous one - but still, after all this time being by herself, she now understands the hidden feeling she kept buried in her heart. The feeling of Tom still being alive. And him still wanting her by his side. Whenever he was.

While the angel appeases her overflowing emotions, she barely notices the extended hand offered by Harrison. So when she finally sees it, she looks at him with soft eyes, still her mind troubled by all what happened to her since this evening. Harrison invites her to join their hands by nodding at her. And when they finally do, both of them start walking toward the edge of the cliff.

“Harrison… is Hell… scary?”

They stop right at the edges, hands linked and bodies turn into the dark and cloudy horizon.

‘ Hell is not a happy place, (Y/N), but I can guarantee you Tom will protect you and make you feel at home. I’m sure he will. ‘

(Y/N) lets out a sigh. A calmed one. And she squeezes the demon’s hand as if to tell him she is ready. Kind of.

‘ I suggest you to close your eyes. Just in case. Not to… scare you. ‘ offers Harrison.

(Y/N) nods slightly her head and inhaled a big amount of air.

‘ Do you trust me? ‘

“Well, it’s not like I’ve got the choice right?” sarcastically replies (Y/N), with an amused smile painted on her angelic face.

Harrison laughs heartily at this remark showing his perfect white teeth, his canines sharp as a beast’s.

‘ My my, all angels should be like you. Things would be so much funnier! ‘

The young woman laughs in her turn, all the tension leaving her body a little more. When the silence of the night reigns again, the two beings open out their gigantic wings.

‘ Ready? ‘

“Ready.”

* * * *

(Y/N) has just enough time to close her eyes and everything accelerates pretty quickly. She hears and feels “things”. Screams. Hotness. Fire maybe? But then cold. And hot again. Things trying to grab her arms or legs, but never making it. Her wings continue to beat the air to fly toward the unknown. A total unknown world that she heard about but without fully knowing what happens in it. A world that her lover now rules on. Her fallen lover that waits for her. And she just couldn’t wait any longer.

‘ (Y/N), we arrived ‘ Harrison tells her.

Like she has been asleep for decades, (Y/N) slowly opens her eyes. And what is in front of her astonishes her that much she nearly falls backward. Harrison pulls her back toward, still hand in hand.

‘ Welcome to the Underworld of Hell, (Y/N). ‘

In front of the angel lays an arid landscape. The ground looks covered by dust, a bit red and black, likesand. A desert. But not lava or a single flame. The sky has nothing to do with the purity of the Heaven one, but still not scary or as described in the books. Displaying a gradation of slight red and dark blue, maybe black actually, that weirdly match together. No sun or moon or star. A clear devil sky. (Y/N) can also notice some the people walking around. Demons walking around, or flying eventually. All dressed up in black just like Harrison. A typical scenery similar to Heaven but with very different people. Without debauchery. And when (Y/N) decides to turn around, she falls face to face with a gigantic castle, all made in dark bricks to stay in the aesthetic of the place. Her and Harrison are actually standing of the steps that lead to it and (Y/N) feels like even smaller and fragile as she normally is. But is that weird she doesn’t feel frighten? At all?

’ So you found her, mate? ’

The voice makes (Y/N) jump and she lets the demon’s hand go, turning toward the new male’s voice. And she almost bumps into a body. When she backs up, after saying sorry, she sees a new demon.

’ Hi, I’m Jacob. (Y/N), right? ’

(Y/N) chooses to only nod at him. And her new encounter shakes vividly her hand.

’ Cool! He’s gonna be soooo excited to see you again! The man only talks about you and how you’re pretty, and you really are! ’

‘ Jacob, don’t scare her please… ‘ interrupts Harrison while approaching the two beings, staying next to (Y/N). ‘ She stills has to get used to Hell, you know? And- ‘

❞ Welcome back Harrison. Thank you so much for what you did, my friend. ❞

A new voice joins the talk. But this time, it brings shiver all over her body because she recognises it. She knows to who this fruity voice with a particular accent belongs to. For someone else it could be anybody. But for (Y/N) it can only be one person…

The young woman slowly turns over it, not really knowing what to expect. But when her angelic eyes cross his, for the first time in ages, this is it. The moment she waited for so long but never came until now. The moment she wishes to happen. It’s happening now.

This is him.

She stands here, surrounding by the other devil men, speechless. All emotions mix up in her body.

Tom exits the castle and stands on top of the stairs, tall and proud. All in black, from head to toes, but still as handsome as he was as an angel. The new King of Hell displays his enormous black wings on his back, showing his power to whoever is present at the moment. Harrison and Jacob kneel down. But (Y/N) couldn’t move but just admires Tom from the afar. Her heartbeats go insane and her breath accelerates.

“Tom…”

❞ Welcome back, my love. Welcome in Hell. And welcome home. ❞

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helpinghanikan · 4 years

Text

Stay outside the Line

X-men x Reader

Sum: Just because a mutation is a gift, doesn’t mean it’s not a curse.

an: the mutation is anyone within certain distance of the reader will start to die. Could not think of an eloquent way to say that.

Charles Xavier:

Sitting just within the shadow of one of the massive trees you lean back into the sun. The breeze is comfortable, and the grass is soft. If it weren’t for you company it’d be too easy to lean back and nap right there and then.

Although you’d never know the touch of his hand you were still connected to your man. A long stretch of twine, twenty-one feet exactly, is tied around your wrist. The other end was connected to Charles. Tied in the same fashion around your wrist but holding the string between his fingers. Without even meaning to he was caressing it; thumb rubbing up and down the length while the other hand held his book.

Closest you would get as physical contact from Charles was mirroring his movements. Running your own thumb over your other hand, not looking down lest your break the illusion.

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

Erik Lehnsherr:

At first he was just another face staring at you behind bullet proof glass. Both he and the other guy were talking to your host, mouths moving but nothing coming through on your end. Had it been a year or even a few months early you would have sat on your bed with knees to the chest. Wait for them to leave before being comfortable again.

Now you just keep reading, barely glancing without interest to the glass.

“What have you done to be locked in here?” The tall man’s voice could be mistaken for God’s by how it comes down from above. The speakers placed so you’d never be able to pretend like you didn’t hear anything.

‘Accidentally killed a bus load of people.’ Was the answer but you wouldn’t say it.

“It’s safer for everyone. They’ll make sure I won’t hurt anyone while I’m in here.” You say instead, nodding to your host.

“Did they tell you that after they locked the door?” He asks.

Supposedly you weren’t in a prison. The incident on the bus was labeled a ‘possible gas leak of unknown substances’. You being the only survivor was sent to this facility to help with the trauma, and to find out how the same incident happened in the hospital.

You had yet to stare at him right on. His gentle knocking “You don’t belong here, you will never belong here. We can help you, We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

There was nothing else to do with your life but to agree. You wouldn’t be able to leave on your own. But the moment you’re out, how could they ever get you back in?

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

Raven/ Mystique:

Over time you’ve learned how to push the poison deeper inside of you. Spending most days imaging it as a physical type of sand that covered you head to toe. Pressing and forcing that down into your shoes. Walking on it and keeping from spreading any further then a foot from your own body.

Even with that amount of work there was still times that it slipped. When Pressure in your head and behind your eyes starts to push out, and a migraine seems preferable, you have to make a quick exit.

Most people understand and don’t look twice when you run from the room. Others will give each other looks but only verbally ask what’s up in a whisper later on in the night. Then there was the few that understood but still followed. How do you tell the woman that you love to fuck off for a night? Probably in much nicer words, but for now you make an exit from the mansion, Raven keeping her distance but following anyway.

“Get to the trees, little faster!” She almost yells the encouragement.

“Please, Raven, Please stay back!” You yelled, both hands holding your head.

It’d be romantic to think that you made it thanks to Raven’s encouragement. Whatever length of your nails, they dug into your scalp. The pressure was the definition of insanity at this point, stepping into the tree line and screaming without a sound.

Thank whoever was up there that Raven knew better then to comfort you. Staying far enough away that the released poison never touched her. The poison obeyed it’s own laws and stayed within the twenty feet. In the dark of the night green grass turns brown and trees creak instead of scream as they die. Only one of said trees was small enough to be completely overtaken by it.

You’re still drawing blood from your own head when that tree falls.

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

Peter Maximoff:

The best way to describe Peter is like a kitten who just learned it could climb things. Try as you might to explain that it’s not a good idea to climb the drapes it will never listen. It will keep trying to climb no matter how many times you pull it away and tell it “no”.

It’s not until there’s crashing in the middle of the night and few meows of pain that the little idiot will learn. This it the same situation you were in with Peter. No matter how many times you tell him to not get too close he always breaks the rule. Thinking that he is faster then the poison to run close enough to give a peck or a little slap on the backside before making it into the safe zone.

Little kisses and touches were always nice, but it was playing with fire. Eventually he got too cocky, assuming he was faster than poison that tries too hard to protect you. He started to slow down to make the kisses longer and touches more frequent. When that didn’t come with real repercussions, he started going even slower. When his hand lingers too long on your back the repercussions hits him full force.

It was hard enough to see the symptoms when you were younger. But as an adult, watching your man clutch his throat and fall to his knees was so much worse. With his head bowed you wouldn’t see the blood until he’d completely fall on his side, something that no one wanted to happen. Without thinking to you reached down to him, both hands open trying to do anything you can.

You name is yelled from across the lawn. An overly harsh shout from your mentor who had never honestly yelled at you before. “Back away!”

Charles could see the fear and shock in your eyes. But he also had the rest of his students to think about. ‘You have to go, now.’ The whisper in your mind is a world away from the panicked shouts, but it might have been better if he had just yelled at you.

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

Hank McCoy:

You had to be used to secluded rooms by now; at least this one was less like a cell and more like a square fish bowl. The stool in the center and the little slot on the side were the only things giving off prison vibes.

For most of the afternoon Hank has been focused on either his desk or a microscope or a computer. Every time he moves from one to another you look from your book, wait a few seconds to see whether he was looking at you, then return to the paragraph that you now had to restart.

There was no one to blame but yourself for this problem. Hank had told you it was going to be boring, when he would have results he’d get you himself. Instead you went with him. “Not like I’m doing anything anyway,” You had said, telling him to wait a few minutes to step into your little security fish box.

“It’s good enough for a trial run.” He says, probably to himself.

The liquid he holds up is the same shade of blue as his fur. Over the past few weeks it has changed from several different colors. At one point it looked like blood, like the same color as the blood you had given him. The he had held within a smaller containment field. Even the smallest part of you gave off at least a little poison.

“That’ll fix it? Or least tone it down?” You ask.

“Supposedly, I used my original idea and added some new things. Last time it didn’t go as well.” He says, slightly looking down at himself. He had meant it to come off as a joke, instead he says it with some sadness underlining it.

“Well with new stuff it must have improved, hand it over.” You move next to the little slot by the door.

“Considering last time, I’m gonna test it on something else, first. Make sure it doesn’t do the same thing again.” Hank says.

“What else are you going to test it on?”

“Not you,” He says shutting it in the desk. “If I make you any worse that box probably won’t hold it.”

It’s hard to pout and leave the room when you can’t leave the room. Instead just crossing your arms and pouting.

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

Jean Gray:

Over a mile separates you and your woman. Hours spent in your little cabin in the corner of the estate, mostly sleeping, mostly hiding. This time it was pretending to sleep. Acting like the monstrous thunder and lightning outside wasn’t a window away from being in your room.

The rest of the students were in the school itself. Having their thicker walls and each other to protect against the storm. The professor had offered you to stay inside the mansion during storms like this. But that safety would be in the basement, two floors below another living thing. Without any windows and set up with a less comfortable bed and none of your decorations. At least in the cabin you’d die around your things and the outside if the storm got in.

‘Hey’ Jean always had a way to find you. Mostly in your mind. ‘How are you doing?’

“If I die do you think my mutation will leave with me?” You ask the darkness.

‘Don’t say that. It’s just a storm, nothing we don’t live with.’ Her soft laugh travels with her words. It warms the cabin and keeps away the lightening for the briefest of moments. ‘Do you want to come inside?”

“No, I’m all snuggled up. I don’t think I’d make it to the mansion anyway.”

Although the darkness gives nothing there’s a soft weight on your shoulder. A matching feel covering the extension of your back. Knees without a body pressed into the back of yours, arms and no being lay over your body. Their fingers in your hair. You were alone, but Jean make sure to be with you.

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

Logan/ Wolverine:

Being around Logan was like being in another world. One where you were born without the poison smell and didn’t have to struggle to remember what another person felt like. First time you felt his hand on your shoulder it was like being slapped.

“It’s like swallowing pennies. I can taste it, but nothing is coming out.” Logan had described it to you. His healing faster than the damage your poison could give.

On the off chance that Logan is injured in your company, it’s very likely the poison would take advantage of that moment. But that didn’t stop you either of you. It was a possibility that was best not thought about.

Instead you stay your course. Turning the school girl crush into a relationship through raw stubbornness and the ability to get drunk on someone into a two party affair.

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

Kurt Wagner:

You were two people with the same want of seclusion but for different reasons. Just happening to catch a glance of each other when having the same idea of a hiding spot.

Back then you were still new to the estate, being allowed to read and work away from others. Catching a glance of anyone and your scrambling to gather your books, coming off as more then just rude when you yell at them to stay back.

Kurt was the one you didn’t have time to yell at to get away. A flash of blue, books in your arms, and he’s gone. Only a few times did he stay long enough for you to catch a better look at him. A face, blue skin and a tail that hung down from the branch he had been sitting on. That time he was far enough away to not be in danger, had you waved at him he would be. But only if he misread and took it as an invitation to come closer.

It took weeks but you finally had the courage to wave. Just a small one that he returned. A small relationship made through small gestures.

#X-men #charles xavier x reader #erik lehnsherr x reader #raven x reader #kurt wagner x reader #jean gray x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #mystique x reader #peter maximof x reader #mutant reader #dangerous mutation #x-men imagine

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shinsousbedroom · 3 years

Text

Plus Ultra! Go Beyond the Screen!

celebrity AU drabble series, 3K~, quirkless actor Midoriya Izuku gets interviewed

[Read on AO3.]

GO BEYOND!

A conversation with Japan’s rising star Midoriya Izuku on standing up on set and off as the next symbol for peace. A GQ Japan exclusive.

By Taneo Tokuda | Correspondent

[Image of Midoriya Izuku, leaning next to a window, his body arched off the wall. His head is tilted up and over towards the camera, the left side of his body illuminated from the light coming in, the right side fading into the shadows. He’s wearing a sheepish grin, tugging at the tie around his neck with a single hooked finger, jacket sliding off his shoulders. He’s wearing Best Jeanist’s exclusive non-denim line, and the monocolor layering of velvets in the lighting make his green hair, red shoes, and tie pop in rich color even more.]

I’d been warned that Midoriya Izuku has no regard for outdated formality. He’s far from callous or jaded — sweet and optimistic are two words often used to describe him — but propriety is something he has never been concerned with.

I’d been warned, but I didn’t understand.

Any journalist who’s worked the entertainment beat for a while knows there’s a cadence every interview follows. The details may change, but there are conventional practices that help an interview go smoothly for both the interviewer and subject, to make the most of a complicated relationship between celebrities and the media.

This interview starts behind the scenes, as most do, with the e-mail I send out to Midoriya’s manager, laying out a request to speak with his charge. The enthusiastic response comes just an hour later and references details from a number of stories I’d written across the entire span of my career.

It isn’t his manager’s response. It’s Midoriya’s.

That was my second warning to assume nothing, but I still stumble into Midoriya’s apartment expecting a clean, contemporary, moderately-sized apartment. It’s rare to host interviews in celebrity homes, and when it happens, it’s meant to be a statement — power, wealth, pride, affected sincerity.

Instead, Midoriya opens the door halfway and apologizes because he moved in recently and there’s still a stack of boxes blocking him from opening it any further. The door handle nearly catches between the buttons of my shirt as I squeeze through the crack. Once inside, I trip over his trademark red shoes and nearly take him down in the process.

He catches me in his arms and says with a wry grin, “Don’t worry, I am here!”

That, of course, is a classic reference to his latest role: All Might. All for One will be a Netflix reboot of the old '80s superhero film franchise that turned Toshinori Yagi into a household name. In a casting coup that stunned fans and industry insiders alike, Midoriya fell into the role shortly after making headlines for saving a life during a villain attack on the set of long-running soap opera The Quirked and the Quirkless. The villain had been looking for Toshinori, and in his absence, grabbed a crewmember hostage. Midoriya attacked the villain despite having no quirk.

Soon after, Toshinori reversed his longstanding refusal to produce an All Might reboot and gave the studio a green light — with a stipulation. Just as the franchise had brought him up from obscurity, so must the franchise fill its ranks with youths aiming to catch their big breaks. Enter: Midoriya Izuku.

Midoriya sets me back down gently — yes, he picked me up when I fell, even though I’m a full half meter taller than him — and I’m more inclined to see his suitability as Toshinori’s successor.

Physically, he still looks nothing like his mentor. Where Toshinori is buff, Midoriya is lean, tall to his short, loud to his soft. Toshinori held his strength in the brash, nigh-cocky attitude that got him into as much trouble as himself as it did in the show as All Might. Midoriya carries strength like woven spider silk; it’s graceful and dangerous, but all too easy to overlook for those unused to subtlety. But he carries the same bright aura of unwavering love and determination.

More to the point, I also felt his arms and abs in the fall, and he may not look like he has the muscles of All Might, but they are definitely there.

“You can take a seat anywhere in the living room if you’d like,” Midoriya says, ushering me down the hall with a light hand on my back. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, but I haven’t put together the kitchen table yet, so living room it is.”

“Breakfast? Did we decide on a working breakfast?” I replied.

“I couldn’t invite a guest into my home without offering snacks! Since this interview coincides with breakfast, I made breakfast.” He pushes me towards the sofa and wags a finger at me when I try to follow him to the kitchen anyway. “No guests allowed to hover or help in the kitchen. It’s too small!”

The rest of the apartment is half unpacked, and haphazardly at that. Boxes are open, dumped out into piles on the floor where they will likely be permanently placed. I perch on the arm of a ratty sofa by the only portion of the room that’s been set up. It’s a veritable shrine to pro heros, fictional and real alike. Two of the five shelves are devoted solely to All Might merchandise.

Midoriya appears behind me, as if by quirk. “Ah, do you collect hero memorabilia? I’ve been a big fan of All Might since I was little, and then I started following hero society in general when I got into middle school, so I’ve built up a lot over the years especially rare items like if you look at the back corner there’s a particularly cool figure of All Might from the emerald era which if you remember was received so poorly that most of the merch was shelved in one location and subsequently destroyed during a villain attack…” He goes on without end or pause, taking me through the history of each item on the third shelf. At minute six, he abruptly tenses mid-sentence. I can almost feel the heat from his red face as he starts stammering apologies for wasting my time and gingerly puts his collection away again.

“You've got a lot of stuff I haven’t seen. It’s interesting.” It makes me uncomfortable how much he clearly doesn’t believe me. “It’ll be good content, that you have such a long history being an All Might fan.” He shrugs my words aside, and gestures behind me to a giant spread he’d laid out on the coffee table before seeing my interest in his collection.

We sit. For a moment, the only sound in the apartment is the clatter of silverware, the muffled bustle of Tokyo’s streets at midmorning a soothing counterpoint. I’m considering how to break the lingering tension I caused. But then —

“I’m a quirkless soap opera actor who seemingly got the biggest role of the decade for doing something completely unrelated to acting. I’m optimistic, not an idiot.” There’s a taut line to his shoulders again, at odds with the quiet, delicate way he drinks his miso soup.

His eyes trail back to the curio shelf of hero merchandise. A heaviness builds between us in the seconds it takes him to think. “I grew up in a neighborhood hostile to me and my mother. I mumble my thoughts out loud and have an obsession for heroes that edges past societally acceptable as an adult. I have no quirk, she had no husband, we had no money. Any insult you could say about us, I’ve heard it.”

He looks me dead in the eyes and leans forward. I can’t help but mirror him. “It would be disrespectful to everyone who supported me to get here if I let the back talk get to me. I worked hard for this role, and I earn it with every new day of effort I put into it. All Might is the symbol for peace, and I intend to embody that legacy. No one will be able to doubt me when I’m done.”

Anyone who’s familiar with Midoriya’s reputation knows not to be surprised by his humility, but it’s a revelation to see this drive, his earnest focus pinning down my full attention. The last bit of the puzzle that was his casting choice is answered in one overwhelming look. If All for One does it right, his magnetism is going to Detroit Smash every heart in Japan.

“The waffles!” He springs up and mutters his way back to the kitchen, cutting past the moment. “I forgot the waffles, Kirishima gave me a waffle maker the shape of All Might’s crest as a housewarming gift, they’re so cute and surprisingly detailed…” In just a few seconds he plops the plate down amid the overfull table and settles back into his seat with a smile. “So? Should we get started?”

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. For the full article, visit us online. Catch the first season of All for One on Netflix, streaming xx xxx.

[Image of Midoriya Izuku sitting outdoors on some sidewalk steps in workout gear, leaning back on one arm, the other hand raised to cover his face from the sun. He’s wearing bright green short shorts and a very loose tank top, the arm holes cut out so deep that the angle lets the photographer capture the sheen of oil and sweat across his ribs and back as light filters through the shirt. One sock is pulled up taut, the other scrunched down, same classic red shoes still on his feet. His legs and arms and hands are haphazardly wrapped in carefully grimed bandages, as is his makeup, smudges of dirt across his cheeks along with make up to bruise his lips a deep, pouty red. Boxing gloves hang over his shoulders, and a bandana mimicking the famed mouth guard from All Might’s most iconic outfit hangs around his neck.]

TT: Congratulations on your first starring role! How does the move from semi-recurring character to protagonist feel?

MI: It’s a huge challenge, one I’m incredibly excited for! My character in Quirkless wasn’t supposed to be mine. I’d already been involved with the show as a quirkless consultant but one day on set, they’d had a huge scheduling conflict, and Director Ryuko remembered I’d originally auditioned for the show for a character that was ultimately cut. She brought me in as a literal last minute replacement, and soon enough a three-episode run expanded into a semi-regular spot next season. At least with All for One I’ve had tons of time to prepare.

TT: Take us through what it was like getting the role of All Might.

MI: I think the media explained the villain attack that brought me to the studio’s attention plenty. What's more important is when after I recovered, Toshinori-san contacted me and connected me to his talent agency, and my new manager was the one that successfully nabbed me an audition for the new show. They had us go through a few standard readings and chemistry checks, and then I got the part.

TT: You auditioned?

MI: I did! That’s what makes the rumors of favoritism even more frustrating. I promise I didn’t get the role because I stopped a villain attack on set! Well, I hope I didn’t.

[File photograph of Toshinori Yagi and Midoriya Izuku post-hostage situation. The stage is in disarray, black goop covering the furniture and floor of a fake hospital waiting room in a thick layer of sticky slime. They stand off-center in the foreground, Midoriya rubbing a fist over his eye, exhausted, possibly crying, as Toshinori pulls him into his side for a hug. Both have shock blankets draped across their shoulders. Emergency respondents case and clean the scene in the background.]

TT: How does it feel to take up the mantle of one of the most iconic comic book characters of all time?

MI: I’d be lying if I didn’t say nerve-wracking, but I’m more excited than anything. I’ve dreamed about this since I was 5, when the doctors first told me I’d never have a quirk and never be a licensed hero. All that love was redirected toward All Might. Some people might say being too big a fanboy will make playing him hard, but I’ve been preparing for this my entire life, and that’s what I’m trying to hold on to instead of anxiety. Toshinori-san has also been a spectacular mentor to me through this whole process.

TT: It's been said that Toshinori-san implemented a rigorous vetting process to work in any position on the crew. Recommendations, mentorship networks — because everyone is new to film.

MI: That’s only true to a certain extent. I wouldn’t say most of us are complete newcomers; we’ve all been around the industry for a fair number of years making our careers off it one way or another. We definitely wouldn’t have gotten hired to such prominent roles without Toshinori’s interference, yes. Because of his stipulation, the studio wanted to minimize as much of the havoc inexperience might cause such a beloved, big budget reboot by offering us close, mandatory support networks featuring industry professionals who’ve been working in their field for decades.

So far, the idea has really worked out well. We get to implement fun new ideas we don’t realize are impossible yet, and the mentors temper our more […] impractical ideas with logic and experience. The cast also has gotten a lot of support from the old cast of the '80s run!

TT: You’re known for being an advocate for quirkless rights in the entertainment industry. Has that impacted the way you approach your career and what opportunities you take?

MI: It isn’t just the entertainment industry I’m interested in for my advocacy work. Society’s rabid obsession with quirks is a problem across all of Japan, for both the quirkless and those with quirks. But as an actor, I happen to have personal insight with the roadblocks that prevent quirkless individuals from succeeding in film. We make up a fourth of the Japanese population, but less than 1% of the Japanese Film Union, in the mere century from when quirks first showed up across the globe. There’s no other explanation for such a miserly diversity rate than discrimination.

Studios have gotten so used to using quirks to sift through application stacks, looking for who can offer the most with just a quirk name and description. Toshinori-san has easily admitted that the electricity he emits when engaging his strength quirk was one of the reasons he won the role of All Might over better known actor Todoroki Enji. It was one less special effect the studio would have to spend money and time on. Viewing accommodation as a costly complication is historically dangerous to all types of minorities across the globe. How am I supposed to compete when people think I can’t offer anything unique compared to the host of wild quirks out there?

TT: Wow, that’s quite the speech.

MI: I’ve practiced a few times.

TT: Really?

MI: Quirk discrimination was my thesis topic at UA.

TT: You went to UA? That didn't show up in my research.

MI: Oh, I […] was in their support program for a while.

TT: Why did you decide to pursue acting instead? They don’t have a fine arts program, do they?

MI: As much as I love support work, it’s a stressful field. [Laughs] I started looking for an outlet that had nothing to do with hero work when an old friend dragged me onto a set. I’d completely forgotten how much I loved acting, and it wasn’t long before I decided to pursue that over support work, for however long it would have me.

TT: Would you ever consider returning to support work?

MI: Yes, but it gets harder the longer you’ve been away. I still keep up my qualifications, and keep up with my old classmates. Some consulting here and there. But for now, I’m happy using my background to help me act a better All Might.

[Photograph of Midoriya Izuku sitting in an office chair, facing three-quarters towards the camera even as he lays half across a desk. The decor is rich: old, dark wooden furniture, ornate work across the frame of the chair and desk, half-filled bookshelves in the background. His cheek rests against his arm stretched along the edge of the deck; one leg is tucked under the seat and the other is extended out. His outfit is artfully ripped name brand jeans and a tight shirt, color blocked in All Might’s classic red, white, and blue. Tiny figurines of All Might in his various costumes across all his comic book and screen appearances dot across his body as if they’ve climbed across his body, and Midoriya is an Atlas holding the weight of these ideals across his shoulders and arms and legs, a Gulliver tied down and overwhelmed. But his expression is vibrant, determined. Not quite a smile, but nowhere near defeated.]

TT: Does it bother you, having your quirklessness constantly be the focus of your career and identity?

MI: Of course! I’m a lot more than the superpower I don’t have. I’m a pretty private person, but I want to do great things. I want to inspire people, to make everyone feel safe and like they belong. If that means I have to feel some discomfort, it’s more than worth it. I’m a big kid with a therapist, so I’m prepared to balance my needs with those of my career.

TT: I’m not helping, am I?

MI: Like I said, I’ve deliberately opened myself up to that focus when I’ve put myself out there as someone willing to talk about these important issues publicly. You’re not asking anything I wouldn’t expect of any good interviewer.

TT: Speaking of privacy, your co-worker Todoroki Shouto is infamous for his taciturn personality and complete seclusion from the public eye, even during personal interviews. What is it like working with him on set?

MI: I have a bone to pick with you journalists about that! Remember what I was saying about how quirk reputations hurt those with strong quirks as much as those without? Todoroki Shouto is a wonderful person, and I’m so glad we get to work together. But boy, that reputation of his does him a disservice. He’s more than just Endeavor’s son and a powerful quirk. […] He’s his own man with a lot to say — it’s just no one’s asked him the right questions, yet. Once you do, you’ll find he shines brighter than any of the characters he’s played. It’s frustrating to see a good man overlooked again and again in favor of easier topics like a flashy quirk and flashy father.

TT: One last question. Isn’t it a hassle to squeeze past those boxes each day to use the front door?

MI: I don’t use the front door.

TT: Then…?

MI: Wouldn’t you like to know? ■

#bnha #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #midoriya izuku #taneo tokuda #quirkless midoriya izuku #celebrity AU #BUT THERE ARE STILL QUIRKS GIVE ME MORE CONTENT ABOUT QUICKS FUNCTIONING IN NORMAL SOCIETY AND THOSE IMPLICATIONS #lolo's fic writing tag

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furidojasutin · 4 years

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Title: Fire on Fire

Pairing: Fraxus (Freed x Laxus)

Universe: Canon

Rating: K+

a/n: If you wanna, listen to the song ‘Fire on Fire’ by Sam Smith because this was basically the inspiration for this and... feels. Lots of feels. It’s beautiful??? djwkfw Anyway yea, I actually managed to write something up before bed so I’m throwing this before I’ll get my Zzzzs!

My father said I'm too romantic He said, "You're dancing in the movies" I almost started to believe him Then I saw you and I knew

Laxus thought about his childhood and teenage years more often than he would like to admit to himself or anybody else, really. He thought about how it could have been a nearly perfect childhood, how he could've been as happy as a kid could be, keep doing stuff that normal kids do and be excited about the smallest things, carrying the people along with his own excitement.

He'd had all of this at some point, with his grandfather. He may have been a sickly child but he was still not miserable. There had really been a time where he could be careless and happy and simple and pure. It was all thanks to Makarov. His mother couldn't be there for him, although he refused to believe that she would have been anything else but an amazing mother. So it was Gramps and him. He was happy to have him.

And then there was his father who took everything from him, everything.

His innocence, his happiness, his kindness, his bond with his grandfather.

It was cruel, it was pain, it was brainwashing and false beliefs. That bastard of a father had managed to ruin so much of his life, such a big part. And the worst is, that Laxus almost lost himself entirely to it, and other people that were actually dear to him. Very dear.

Like his grandfather.

Laxus clicked his tongue in disdain. At times he tried to tell himself that, at the end of it all, Ivan just made him stronger. He wasn't saying that he was grateful for anything Ivan put him through, it was disgusting, but he had made his body and his mind much stronger. Hatred was a bad motive to follow, but somehow it had worked out and now he could throw everything back at this fucker. He was older and he was powerful, so much more powerful than him now.

Yes, Laxus had fucked up a lot along the way, and that was an understatement. It had taken a long time until he had gotten back onto the right path... But he had found it now.

Somehow he had managed to get caught in those kind of thoughts in the middle of the night. That, and when he kept stirring in his sleep restlessly and eventually woke up, he noticed that the place beside him was empty. It wasn't supposed to be empty.

His instincts, and some prior knowledge, had led him to the living room. He immediately spotted a messy head of green hair and... was that a light snore? Laxus' lips formed a lopsided grin at that discovery. He would have something to tease Freed with the next morning.

“Stubborn idiot, told him that he was gonna fall asleep,” he muttered, strictly as though Freed could hear him. There was a soft touch in his deep and usually rough voice and the rune mage didn't move, didn't give any sign that he had heard Laxus talk.

He wasn't only older and more powerful. Eventually he had realized that there was something that was just as important as the power to protect the people he cared for. He had gained something back that he had lost a long time ago.

His happiness.

He didn't want to claim that his soul was entirely at peace. Was that ever the case for anybody anyway? But it was definitely more at peace in certain moments, in certain company.

His exile had given him more than enough time to think a lot of things through and reflect on moments, on events, on people. His grandfather was with him again. The guild had his support and he had theirs, and their trust, what was still a big miracle to him. Evergreen and Bixlow were the best friends he could have ever hoped for, and so was Freed.

Freed had always been... a little different. For so long, Laxus had failed to realize this. For so long, he had been blind to Freed's feelings for him and the feelings he had harbored and closed off in his own shadowed heart.

Maybe it's 'cause I got a little bit older Maybe it's all that I've been through I'd like to think it's how you lean on my shoulder And how I see myself with you

Soft-footed, Laxus approached the couch and looked down at his sleeping boyfriend. Somehow, the messy hair managed it to make Freed look a different kind of handsome although the image almost got destroyed by the slightly parted lips and the little snore.

Laxus shook his head, a loving touch in orange eyes that was reserved for Freed only. Red gale-force reading glasses were still sitting on Freed's nose, position far from perfect. A book was resting on the sleeping man's stomach. His right arm was sprawled across it and his left was dangling from the couch. So so fast asleep.

This image was not objectively perfect, but it was to Laxus. It was also a bit amusing, but Freed still looked peaceful. He deserved to have a sound, steady sleep without nightmares disturbing it, too. Freed’s had dark aspects in his past as well and he had also been right there when Laxus tried to take over the guild. It had been so fucking stupid. They had hurt their family, tortured and almost killed.

There was so much to be grateful for and in these times, good bonds and peace definitely belonged to those things.

They were safe here and alive and that really wasn't something either of them still took for granted. So many things had happened in the past and so many dangerous things could still happen in the future.

There were still a lot of things Laxus was learning but he appreciated every single moment Freed and him got together. This, this was peace.

Sometimes Laxus only had to look at Freed to be overwhelmed with feelings. There was so much he hadn't realized before, about Freed and about himself. Whether it was the sound of Freed's hearty laugh or how he himself had learned to laugh more genuinely again. The sight of Freed's smirk, teasing or cocky or bursting with confidence. How he could relax so much easier when it was only the two of them. How Freed soothed his nerves and seemed to know just what to say. The way he was always there by his side, no matter the circumstances. How he had never shied away from talking back against him when he was doing or saying bullshit. How he was a great sparring partner and best friend and lover all in one person.

How he loved him unconditionally.

And how Laxus realized that his love for him was just as strong, and that he had suddenly begun to feel like they could do everything and anything together.

Perhaps he had only woken up so his restless thoughts could take him here, to their living room, so he could look at Freed and feel at ease. Feel how the nature of his thoughts turned to something positive, instead of focusing on the negative things of his past.

I don't say a word But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know There you go, saving me from out of the cold

If he picked Freed up now he risked waking him up. If he managed to carry him to their bedroom without waking him, then the Freed would either thank him in the morning or he would be stubborn and try to make Laxus believe that he only dreamed that and that he had been in bed all night, just to approach him later and thank him after all.

Laxus huffed at the thought and decided that he didn't want to risk rousing Freed from his sleep, at least not by carrying him. He started with the reading glasses, stealing them from Freed's nose with caution. The man only crinkled his nose slightly, but nothing else. Carefully, he sneaked the book away from under Freed's arm and put it on the table. He continued to pick up the scattered papers and the dropped pen, then he grabbed the empty mug that had contained a steaming cup of tea hours prior and brought it to the kitchen. When he returned, he snatched a blanket from the arm chair and covered his boyfriend with it. For a moment he thought that Freed had muttered something but even if that was the case, he couldn't understand it.

His decision was made and Laxus planted himself in the arm chair right next to their big couch. He couldn't sleep right now anyway and perhaps Freed would wake up by himself. Then he would not only have caught Freed in the act but he could also go back to bed together with him. A double win, if you will.

For the longest time, he had lost the belief that anybody could ever made him feel the way Freed did. Holding Freed in his arms, having Freed hold him, it made him feel warm from the outside. And he made him feel warm on the inside. Being with him had somehow lit a flame within him that never ceased burning, instead it seemed to grow stronger with every experience, every day, every moment he spent with the man and every meaningful past experience he recalled.

Freed managed to make him feel breathless and out of control and helpless in the most wonderful ways possible, and he had never even assumed that these feelings could ever be wonderful.

They could. Freed made it happen.

Freed was capable of so many things Laxus had assumed impossible. Freed was powerful, intelligent, attractive... and those were only the most superficial, the most obvious attributes. There were so many aspects and sides of Freed as a person, and some that not everybody would get to experience, to see.

Some that were exclusive to Laxus now and this was a feeling that he held onto because he still couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve this twist of fate, to earn this love from Freed.

But he knew that he didn't want to screw this up, that he didn't want to lose this. That he didn't want to lose Freed.

When he looked at Freed, Laxus saw his partner. They were a perfect team and no enemy would ever stand a chance against their storm. When he looked at Freed, he saw his friend who would be honest with him and who he could be careless around.

When he looked at Freed, he saw the very man that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

In thrall to his thoughts and the emotions they brought forward, Laxus had to give a silent laugh. It was an attempt to stop his eyes from watering and he had to sniff hard, dragging the back of his hand across his face before looking at his sleeping boyfriend once more, whispering.

“Fuck, I love you, Freed.”

Fire on fire would normally kill us With this much desire, together, we're winners They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms 'Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me And look in my eyes You are perfection, my only direction

It's fire on fire

#fraxus #fairy tail #freed justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #ft #Sel writes #my stuff

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httphopewrld · 5 years

Text

baby steps | (f/m)

You and your husband, Namjoon, haven’t spent a good date night with each other for a long time. With your new baby girl, Luna, in your life, it was tough; and with work, both of you struggled to balance everything. But you both decided to do something for just the two of you. And it couldn’t have been any more romantic.

Pairing: husband!namjoon x reader

Genre: Fluff and smut?

Rating: 15+ because there’s some smuuuuuutttt

Warnings: swearing, DIRTY TALK (I really mean it), dom!namjoon, sub!reader, use of degrading names (slut), fingering, and protected sex (pls use protected my dudes) ALSO, probably the most filthy I’ve written, so, CAUTION: SMUT

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: thank you guys for waiting! I will try my best to upload :)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“I think it’s your turn,” you looked over at him with tired eyes.

You tilted your head to glance at the clock. 3 o’clock in the morning? For a whole week now?

“Okay…” Namjoon replied unenthusiastically, pulling the covers back and getting out of bed. The cold from the blankets snaked up your back and you shivered.

It had been a couple of months since your daughter, Luna, arrived into you and Namjoon’s lives. She was a beautiful child, who seemed to be a quiet blessing at first. Then the middle-of-the-night crying started, then the tantrums, and the massive amounts of laundry.

You wanted to say you both were organized new-parents, but that’s a complete lie. Namjoon was on tour often and practicing with his bandmates; which meant you were home to take care of Luna by yourself.

You heard the sound of Namjoon singing a lullaby, as the crying stopped. It made you smile that he was willing to take the late-night shifts. I guess it’s the only time he gets to see Luna without me there.

The sound of his soft footsteps against the hardwood floor made you turn to face him.

Once he laid in front of you, you could see the dark circles settle. He, too, was exhausted. Guilt rested in your chest after you realized that you forced him to sooth Luna.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, snuggling closer to his warm front.

“What for?” You could feel his breath against your nose.

You linked your pinky finger with him, “For making you put Luna back to sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed, kissing the tip of your nose. “You’ve taken such good care of her for a long time, while I’ve been away. It’s the least I can do.”

Your heart sank at his words. He’s been away for so long. It must suck for him too.

You kissed him passionately on the lips, just to savor them. Even though Luna had woken you both up, it was usually the only time you two saw each other.

“Hey,” he broke away from the kiss, but still linger closer for a brief moment, “I was thinking that we get one of our parents to babysit Luna for a night?”

You paused for a second, not wanting to sound eager for this idea—because you didn’t want to make him feel bad.

“Sure,” you smiled, “I’d like that.”

“I’d thought so,” his hand rested loosely over your side, “you look tired.”

You slapped his chest playfully, “Joonie! You’re not supposed to say that.”

“My bad,” he chuckled.

“I just—I feel bad for making you take care of Luna all by yourself.” He admitted. “With my break coming up, I’ll make sure to pull my weight.”

“Babe, it’s okay,” you rested a hand on the side of his face, caressing the side of his face gently with your thumb, “you’ve worked your ass off. You’ve pulled your weight.”

“I guess,” he reasoned, still not entirely convinced.

“The night off isn’t just for me, but for you.” You nudged him with your hand.

“Think of all the things we could do!” You cheered but in a half-whisper way.

His face lit up. “We could go to that art exhibit we’ve been talking about.”

“And walk around for a bit afterward?” You offered, causing him to excitingly nod his head.

“Then go for a nice dinner later on?” His lips moved towards your ear, “And you could wear that nice dress? And we could fu—”

“Joonie!” Again, you slapped his chest playfully, making him laugh.

“I’m just saying,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “you know how that dress makes me feel.”

“Let’s just sleep,” you said, blushing slightly at his comment.

You turned away from him, allowing his to snuggle against your back.

“Thanks, again, mom,” You sighed with relief, as you handed the last bag over to her. This one was filled with toys Luna would like to play with; while the other two had baby formula, nappies, baby body wash, and extra clothing.

“Don’t worry about it,” your mom dismissed with a wave of her hand, “your father and I have been talking about how we wanted to see her, anyway.”

“She wouldn’t stop, trust me.” Your father sighed.

You chuckled as Namjoon arrived beside you, cradling Luna in his arms.

“I think I’m gonna miss her,” he confessed, nervously laughing.

He gently passed her to your mom, who took her eagerly.

“Have a great date night!” You mom said as your father tried his best to carry all three bags.

Both of you watched them anxiously as they got into their car and drove off.

It had been the first time you’ve both let someone babysit Luna. It felt too early in her years, but you both knew that you two needed some rest. But that didn’t stop you guys from worrying.

“You think she’ll be alright?” Namjoon finally asked as you closed the door.

You grasped both of his hands reassuringly, and in a way to calm down your nerves as well. “She’s in good hands.”

Namjoon nodded and kissed your lips. “You ready for a day and night to ourselves?”

“Couldn’t have been more ready,” you smiled.

The art gallery was quiet and serene. The paintings on the walls felt like they were meant for a few eyes only because there were few people wandering around.

You watched Namjoon marvel at the artwork. He leaned towards the canvases as if he were examining the strokes of paint. You weren’t one for spending the whole day in the art gallery, but he definitely was.

The scene he was looking at was vibrant waves crashing into the side of a cliff. The various shades of blues and white twisting and clashing together against the brick red and raven black rocks. Even in the image stood still, your eyes could imagine the movement of the waves.

“He’s an Australian artist,” Namjoon began, pointing to the biography posted at the beginning of the exhibit, “named ‘John Peter Russell’.”

You nodded, acknowledging the information that you’ve clearly missed when grazing over the biography. “He makes some good art.”

Namjoon’s arms wrapped around your waist, and his head nestled over your shoulder. “He sure does.”

You turned your face slightly to see his, “Wasn’t his best friend Van Gogh?”

He faced you. “Taehyung?”

You both chuckled, reminiscing on the nickname Taehyung gave to himself.

“Should we head for dinner?” He asked while pulling away from you. “I could hear your stomach growling.”

“What about the other exhibits?” You replied, confused.

“Babe, we’ve been here for around four hours. We’ve seen all of them.” He laughed.

“Oh,” you blushed awkwardly as Namjoon lead you out of the art exhibition.

The satin slip dress loosely draped over your body. It was the dress that made Namjoon ravenous for your skin. Paired with skin-tone heels, the outfit was enough to make him drool.

On the other hand, he wore a classic button-up shirt underneath a dark suit jacket, paired with matching trousers. You loved a man in a suit, meaning you also desired Namjoon beneath your fingertips.

The car ride over to the restaurant was tense, from the way Namjoon’s hands grazed up and down you left thigh.

“We could just head home—” You partially choked, feeling a gush or arousal between your thighs.

“We should eat something,” he said nonchalantly as if he couldn’t tell you were about to come undone by his mere touch.

You pouted at his response, partly from not going back to your home and have, probably, amazing sex; and the other because he was being cocky.

The restaurant you both ate at was Italian. You two shared a bottle of red wine and a couple pasta dishes. The dinner was adorable and romantic, from the way you two stared at each other lovingly, to when you guys tried the ‘Lady and the Tramp’ spaghetti technique.

You didn’t realize how long it had been since you two sat down, formally, for dinner, until he asked you about it.

The thought made you a bit sad if you were being honest. He was your husband, after all, and you rarely saw him.

You found yourself almost smiling through tears, while saying, “It’s alright, babe.”

“Y/N,” he began, smiling guiltily while wiping one of your tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” you assured, grasping his hand against your face.

You both smiled at each other for a while, before you broke the silence, giggling and wiping your tears hastily. “Okay, let’s go now before I ruin my makeup.”

He chuckled, getting up and heading behind your seat. He held up your jacket, allowing you to slip your arms through the sleeves.

“What would you like to do when we get home?” He whispered into your ear, close enough for you to feel his hot breath.

“I think I owe you one, don’t I?” He kissed the shell of your ear before heading to the front to pay for your dinner.

You would be lying if his words hadn’t soaked you already.

His hands trailed up and down your sides as his lips found purchase on your neck. Your dress was halfway up your leg, and one of your straps was off your shoulder.

He had you against the wall beside the bedroom’s door. Your arms were resting on his shoulders, allowing him to fit between your legs.

“You know what this dress, does to me, don’t you?” He smirked, grasping your hand casually and placing over his clothed hard member.

“Fuck,” was all you could muster as he let go of your hand and began rubbing your inner thigh.

His fingers inched towards your clothed core, only running his index finger over it gently.

“Wow, babe. Already so wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you,” he tugged on the band of your underwear, signaling you to take them off. “Let’s take these off, shall we?”

They fell off your hips and onto the floor, allowing you to step out of them. His fingers immediately went back to core once they were off, rubbing slow circled around your clit.

You let out a slight moan as he multitasked, taking off you dress while slipping one finger into your core.

His eye lit up when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. “Look at my little slut not wearing a bra,” he grazed his thumb over you hard nipple, making your chest thrust forward.

Namjoon pushed another finger into your soaked cunt.

“Fuck! Don’t stop,” you moaned as his pace picked up.

“Yeah? You like my fingers fucking your cunt?” He said cockily.

“Yes!”

You felt your insides squeeze around his fingers, letting both of you know you were close.

Then his fingers stopped. Still in your core, but unmoving.

“Joonie?” You exhaled, a bit out of breath from almost climaxing.

He took out his fingers and put them in his mouth, savoring your taste. You only looked at him in shock.

“I want you to cum around me,” he announced before hoisting your leg around his waist and carrying you in the bedroom.

You felt the cold sheets against you bareback as he softy let you down on the bed. He quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, almost falling over while kicking them off.

You tried to suppress your giggles, but he seemed to notice, from the embarrassed grin he had on his face.

“Condoms?” He asked, breaking out of his dominant persona from before.

“Your bedside drawers?”

He nodded and looked into the drawer, pulling out a red squared-packet. “Can you put it on for me?”

You rolled your eyes, fully knowing that he probably just wanted your hands on him; and not to actually help him put the condom on.

You opened the packet, tossing it aside, and slipped the condom over his hard member. He hissed at your faint touch, urging you to stroke it once.

His hand was quick to go over yours, “I want to come inside you.”

“I know,” you winked, teasing him.

Namjoon rolled his eyes before chuckling. He situated himself between your legs, guiding his length to your soaked folds.

With a sharp thrust, he was deep inside you, touching every crevice of your core.

“Fuck, you’re fit so perfect around me,” he groaned, sliding out partly before slamming back into you.

“F-faster,” you choked as he picked up his speed.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin colliding with each other, along with your moans and grunts.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you admitted, grasping Namjoon’s hand.

“Same here,” he replied, kissing your lips.

You both came together while feeling your sweaty bodies slump together from exhaustion.

Namjoon pulled out of you, making you both moan with satisfaction.

He went to the bathroom afterward, coming back with a damp and dry towel. Once he stood in front of your body, he softly wiped up your essence. You twitched as he did so, still a bit sensitive from having sex.

When Namjoon was done cleaning you up, he tossed the towel on the titled-floor of the bathroom, too lazy to deal with any other cleaning at the moment.

He laid next to you, still nude like you. He pulled the covers over both of you and snuggled closer.

“Thank you,” you sighed, kissing him lightly.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip, allowing him to deepen the kiss. “Thank you,” he mumbled against your mouth.

Both of you laid there in relaxed silence, still kissing each other lovingly. It was intimate, but not sexual—because you’ve both already dealt with that.

You pulled away from him, staring tenderly into his eyes. “When do you think we’re going to do this again?”

He laughed at your question. “What do you mean?” He inched closer, enough to graze your lips with his, “Are you wanting a round two?”

You pushed him away playfully, “No! Yes? No!” You blushed, “I was just thinking…. because we’re always so busy with Luna and work, I felt like we’d have to schedule far in advance to have another date night….”

His silence made you feel obligated to keep explaining, “It’s just—I’m worried we won’t see each other, just you and I, for date nights.”

He grasped your face gently, looking sympathetically into your eyes. “Babe, it’s natural for it to be like that for a bit.”

He pecked your lips, “But we’ll make it work,” he then kissed your nose, “baby steps, remember?

You nodded in reply, “I know,”

“Good,” he snuggled against your collarbone, “so let’s cherish this moment together.”

“Okay,” you sighed, cuddling into him.

Namjoon kissed your skin. “I love you, y/n.”

You kissed the top of his head, “I love you too, Joonie.”

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Unlawful protector- Part 1

This is a new bodyguard! Ben Hardy series that I came up with which is a bit different from my other series. This involves a royal (princess) reader and a darker, more evil Ben. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction

Summary: Ben takes the job of protecting (Y/n) when her family is threatened due to her father’s ill health which means one of her siblings will be crowned. But Ben isn’t all he seems and slowly, people in the royal family start to die.

Ben Hardy masterlist

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Thick heeled boots clacked and snapped against the polished tiles that quaked from the force the boots imposed. His presence was easily heard from the steady tempo his boots set against the black and white tiles and resembled a chessboard.

His hands were clasped with an iron grip behind his back as if he were a prisoner with his hands shackled behind him. His chin jutted out as his head was held high to show a sense of authority and power over anyone he passed. His jawline was razor-sharp and was prominent when his head tilted up at an acute angle. He had eyes that were pale emerald green as if they had been tainted and watered down but that only made them look cold and uninviting.

Those glassy eyes hardly looked around the vast room he entered like he either already had the image imprinted into his mind or he simply didn't care for the decore enough to have a look around.

His height made him seem like a skyscraper compared to those he walked past as he was easily the tallest person in the room.

He wore a crystal white dress shirt that was tucked tightly into his high-waisted black trousers with the hems of the trousers resting neatly on top of his ankle boots. His dirty ash-blond hair was set in waves and folded back on his head so no strands would distort his vision.

He stopped walking and stood as straight as a board, five feet in front of the three people sitting in front of him. There were two other men that he clearly guessed were bodyguards or some kind of protection here for the people sitting in front of him. His stoic expression never changed once as he stared into the eyes of the girl sitting in between a guy around her age and a woman many years older.

His expression never changed once but the girl sitting in the middle noticed a brow twitch as if he was silently conveying a message to her that she couldn't understand. She watched him with intrigue as she knew who he was and exactly why he was standing in front of her but she didn't expect him to be or act like he was.

(Y/n) had expected a man in his thirties with slick, greasy hair who was maybe a tad shorter than the blond in front of her. She expected someone who smiled proudly at their job and looked cocky. Someone who spoke and held a voice or arrogance and a face that screamed authority. She expected someone with a bad posture who would be jumping from foot to foot with anticipation. Someone who would stare at her with a wolfish grin and bare his teeth. Someone like many of the men her father had employed throughout the years.

She had not been expecting a younger man with towering height and bland, bored and even cruel expression. She didn't expect someone with good posture who was tall and thin but at the same time built with muscle. She hadn't expected someone who held their head up high but said nothing and had no air of arrogance about them. His feet stayed firmly planted on the tiled floor as he didn't move or fidget once. She had to share very hard at his chest just to ensure that he was actually breathing beneath the tight-fitting shirt he wore.

Even when her mother spoke to him he simply curled his lips into the tiniest smile he could muster and nodded his head only once at each question and statement that passed her lips. Not once did he mutter a single word or syllable.

(Y/n)'s mother was not one to be put off or unnerved easily and yet (Y/n) could see her mother leaning back into her seat at the boldness this man held to say absolutely nothing and look unamused. He was intimidating a woman who could look at a murderer and feel hold her nerve, without having to do anything at all to unnerve her.

"You're going to be looking after (Y/n)-"

"Jesus, mother he's not a nanny." (Y/n) snipped quietly, resting her chin on her hand as she slouched in her chair. She made it seem like she was hiring him to look after a toddler not to protect (Y/n) from the threats the whole family had been receiving. She wasn't a toddler and this man wasn't here to be a nanny and babysit her from time to time. He was being employed as a protector, a bodyguard.

"That's enough."

(Y/n) liked to think that she could keep her fire in her spirit burning but as soon as her mother or father opened their mouths and spoke in that kind of tone her own mouth shut and her body shrunk. She felt spineless in the presence of her parents or even her three elder siblings, keeping quiet was better than fighting a losing battle.

(Y/n) was the youngest of four, she was the one who didn't care about the throne or their family that was as corrupt as anything she had ever seen in her life. Their father was ill and he wasn't getting better which meant that the thone had to go to someone else when he passed. Their mother had married into royal blood and her father was the king so that meant when he passed it would be down to his heirs that would take the throne.

There had been threats made on the family because people knew that once her father died and his children took over they would reign in the same way he did. They would carry on what he had done which had caused people to die and threats to be passed around like party favours.

She saw no reason for her to have a bodyguard when it was her brother and sisters who were the ones in immediate danger because Louisa was the eldest. She was the one who was going to inherit the throne when he died and she wasn't going to change anything or rule fairly. If something happened to her then it would go to Daniel and then Anna and if in doubt, pass it to (Y/n). There were three siblings to take charge before (Y/n) but with the threats they had been receiving their mother insisted she has protection too because people were out for blood from any of them that they could get.

Turning her head to the right, (Y/n) looked at Joe who was sitting next to her. He was a member of the court but he was her closest and probably her only friend that she could trust. She noticed the look in his eyes that showed he either didn't like the guy in front of them or he seemed to know him from somewhere.

Pushing herself to her feet, (Y/n) sighed as she sent Joe a small smile before beginning to walk away. A shiver ran along her spine when she heard the clacking of sharp heels against the tiles that signalled the stranger was now following after her like her mother had instructed for him to do.

She didn't see why she should have a bodyguard when she was in no immediate danger. (Y/n) wished she wasn't even part of this family that was broken and corrupted.

The death threats and poisoned pen letters that they kept receiving were due to her father anyway. There were so many rumours about him and the illegal dealings and ways he ran the kingdom and how he had caused deaths throughout the years and (Y/n) believed every one of them because she knew her father.

People knew that Louisa, Anna and Daniel would rule in much the same way because they were spoilt and they didn't care. At least, Louisa didn't. She would let others make all the decisions and simply sign whatever they asked her to because she had a head full of air. Her brother and Anna would just follow in the footsteps of their father and (Y/n), she would abdicate the throne simply because she would never want to rule. She wasn't Queen material.

As soon as she entered the corridor and was out of sight of the guards and her overbearing mother, (Y/n) turned her head to look at the bodyguard assigned to her.

He didn't have a plain expression anymore, he seemed to be amused by something. His lips had curved into a smirk that was small but evident as his eyes seemed to crinkle at the edges, their colour darkening as he looked rather... (Y/n) didn't want to think he looked evil. It was more, dominating than anything else.

"So what do I call you?" (Y/n) asked, her voice rather timid as she turned her head back so she was looking where she was going. Turning left to head up the small, spiral staircase as she heard his boots hitting hard against the stone steps. When she reached the first floor, (Y/n) felt her breath catching in her throat when his hand grasped her arm to spin her around causing her to lean against the wall for stability.

"Anything you like, darlin'."

This was the first time he had said anything since arriving here and he had to go and say something like that. Something that made her shiver and her blood tingle like it was fizzing soda in her veins. He grinned at her like a shark as his voice was deep but very sweet like it was dipped in honey.

"But my name is Ben." With that, he pulled away from her and motioned with his hand for her to continue walking. He clasped his hands behind his back again as he kept a minimal distance between them as they started to walk. His eyes burning into her back as he followed her down the corridor.

This was going to be fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I don't trust him." Joe sneered the words at (Y/n) in a hushed whisper as he knew the man he was talking about was just on the other side of the door. There was something about Ben that ruffled Joe's feathers and he thought it was his job to tell (Y/n) and try to change her mind about this.

"That doesn't matter because he's not protecting you." (Y/n) couldn't help if Joe didn't trust Ben because she needed him. She needed someone to help her because someone had already made an attempt on Louisa's life. If they got to her when she was in the castle then none of them was safe. All (Y/n) had to do was wait until one of her siblings was crowned and then she could take her leave. She could take some money and disappear to a place where no one knew her name and have a fresh start.

"I can protect you. We could leave-"

“When someone else is on the throne then talk to me about leaving this God-forsaken place. Until then, you let me worry about who I trust to protect me."

(Y/n)'s tone was final as she watched Joe grind his teeth together, his head leaning to the side as his expression begged her to change her mind but he knew she wouldn't. Since they were little they had talked about leaving, it had been the biggest dream they had which they shared. To just up and go somewhere different, somewhere they could be whoever they wanted to be without people knowing who they were or judging them.

But leaving now meant (Y/n)'s father and mother would just send people to look for her. When one of her siblings was on the throne that would be the talk of the town. That would be it, them on the throne and them getting married and having a family and how they would pretend to rule differently but nothing would really change. (Y/n) could leave during the commotion or when the dust settled down and no one would care as much and she could just be free. But right now if she left people still knew who she was and she would still be in danger of being hurt or killed.

With a nod, Joe leaned and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he left the room. As soon as he walked out, Ben walked in since he had been kindly asked to wait outside so Joe could talk to (Y/n) in private.

Although Joe had his concerns about Ben (Y/n) also had thoughts but they weren't so much concerns, just little annoyances because she couldn't figure him out. He had been with her for almost every second of every day for just over two weeks now and (Y/n) had seen multiple sides to him which were different and intriguing but she couldn't work him out.

If they were in the presence of other people he would be cold and silent, he would stand by her side with his hands shackled behind his back and his heels pressing together. He would nod his head but he wore a cold stare that made everyone feel nervous for no apparent reason.

When they were alone he was different. He would smirk, he would grin like the Cheshire cat, he would tease and whisper things in her ear that would make her blush beet red. He liked to play games, that much was for sure but only if the situation called for it. If they were taking a walk and no one was in sight he would be cheeky but if people were around or he thought something was wrong he would turn stoic again and seem as hard as nails and very uninviting.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence?" Ben suddenly questioned, catching (Y/n) off guard as she spun around to face him. He was smirking like this was a game that he knew he was going to win.

"I haven't decided yet. But it doesn't really matter, you're not here to influence me, are you?" (Y/n)'s lips curved at the corners as she watched his brows raise in surprise. She didn't normally give answers like that, normally she would blush furiously and either shake her head or just mumble something that he couldn't work out.

She didn't have to trust Ben at the moment because no one had tried to hurt her so he was just following her without much reason. She didn't care if he was a bad influence because he wasn't here to changer attitude or her thoughts or the way she was. He was here to protect her so he could have all the bad habits and ideas and words in the world but as long as he was good at his job it didn't matter.

"Wow, the princess does know how to speak her own mind. I'm impressed." Ben folded his arms over his chest as his tone was slightly taunting and rather sassy.

"You can drop the formalities, you know my name." (Y/n) spoke gently but Ben simply chuckled at her words as if he knew something she didn't. She didn't like people calling her princess or miss or anything that wasn't her name because it made her feel uncomfortable. She didn't like to think she was above anyone else even if technically she was.

Her breath hitched in her throat when he walked closer to her but kept his arms folded over his chest. He leaned his head down as if he was going to whisper a secret in her ear but he simply hovered his face over her own. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips which made her tongue instinctively dart out to run over her lips.

"It's not a formality, princess. It's a pet name." He watched her body visibly quiver and almost shake at his words that sent her mind tumbling.

He spoke so frank, so easy going yet he could say the sweetest or dirtiest things with a plain face or just a smile. Joe never said things like that to her, he hardly ever called her anything but her name. He didn't have pet names for her and he only joked around with her, not about her. He didn't talk like this, no one talked like this but the strangest thing was, (Y/n) didn't want Ben to stop.

She didn't know what to do.

What was there that she could say in response to that? Was she meant to pull away and make things awkward or was she just meant to stay put and wait for him to make the next move?

(Y/n) decided that since he had instigated things she would wait and let him take the lead on this. She felt her lungs beginning to burn as she didn't allow herself to release the breath she was holding in her lungs, too concentrated on what he was going to do to dare think about breathing.

A shiver tingled between her shoulder blades and spread like a wildfire through her arms and down her spine when she could feel his lips so close to her own. She felt his lips pressing so very lightly against her own that they were only just barely touching. When his lips finally pressed firmly to her own it was like kissing the wings of a butterfly. But that was it. That simple touch that sent her heart rocketing was there for two seconds and then it was gone. As if the butterfly wings had batted against her lips but had then since flown away with the breeze.

He pulled back to his towering height with a smirk on his lips that showed he was toying with her. But that didn't mean that the kiss meant nothing, it simply meant it was part of a much larger game at play. A game (Y/n) now seemed conscripted to play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Turning his head, Ben rolled his eyes but his lips wore the fainted hint of a smile. He folded his arms as (Y/n) held up her hand and signalled that she would be two minutes. His head nodded as his arms folded over his chest, his eyes following her frame as she drifted back into her room which he stood outside of as she needed to either grab something or change into something else. Ben didn't really care which as he leaned against the wall next to her room.

When his eyes flitted down the corridor a gleam like a star sparkled in his pupils as he saw the familiar blonde hair that was straightened to a crisp and reached the girl's shoulders.

Louisa.

The eldest sibling. And as luck would have it as if he was being watched by the stars, there was no bodyguard following after her as she entered her room on the other side of the corridor he was standing in. He watched as she started to pull the deep baby blue gloves from her hands before the door closed behind her.

Two minutes.

That's all he had and that was all he needed to set this game into motion. His heeled boots were thankfully silenced by the thick dark red velvet carpet beneath his feet that stretched the length of the corridor. Walking a few feet to the left, Ben crossed to the other side of the corridor like he was crossing the road before doing a final scan to make sure no one was around.

He closed the door behind him when he found that it wasn't locked which further proved that he was being watched by the stars tonight and aided in his plan.

Louisa was clearly surprised to find the bodyguard she had only seen once or twice around the house now standing in her room with her. She threw her gloves onto the ottoman at the end of her bed on her right before placing her hands on her hips. Clearly confused and wanting answers as to why he thought it appropriate to come into her room.

The rather unamused expression on her face disappeared the moment Ben grinned like he had won a prize or was a predator closing in on its prey. Her lips curved down at the corners as her eyes seemed to spark with worry as Ben's face clearly showed he did not have good intentions in mind.

But neither of them had time.

Ben didn't have the time to talk or taunt her like he was desperate to and Louisa had no time to say anything because Ben stole it from her. As quick as a dart being thrown, Ben advanced from his spot in front of the door to stand in front of Louisa instead. He said nothing and the moment her lips parted to either scream or ask him what he was doing, a strangled but all too quiet gasp left her lips instead.

Ben's hand reached around to the waistband of his trousers behind his back, his fingers slotting into the groves of the black handle which he pulled out to brandish a knife. His lips turned into a pout as he tutted at her like he was telling her off for something before he plunged the knife through the rather thin material of her peach coloured dress. His force moving the blade through her skin and between two ribs to reach her heart. The force he used and the swift motion the knife glided through her skin showed this was not the first time Ben had done something like this and it wouldn't be the last either.

He wrapped his left arm around her waist to catch her when she fell into him, her lips still parted but all that escaped was a slow trickle of dark red blood that dribbled down her chin and coated her lips like rouge lipstick.

He wasted no time in laying Louisa out on the carpeted floor before ripping the knife from her skin which caused a worse flow of blood to leave her lips as her breaths slowed down significantly. Her lovely peach dress now tainted with a mishapen circle of rouge that was spreading quickly as if the material was magically changing colour on its own.

"Your father's debt has been paid with your life, my love." Ben whispered the words so quietly in her ear he wondered if she would even hear him at all as he dragged the blade over her dress to smear the blood from it and clean the weapon he tucked back into the waistband of his trousers. Pulling his black shirt down over the blade to conceal it from view. Well, part of her father's debt had no been paid but he had a long list of debts that he owed to many and Ben had only cleared a quarter of it away.

When he pulled back he noticed the look of horror in her eyes which were quickly draining and drying up. They looked more like glass marbles than peals with blue tints in them. They were dried up and cracking as no more breaths pushed through her lips.

Running his hand through his hair, Ben pushed the wavey strands back, folding them over one another so they didn't fall in his eyes as he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Checking his hands for speckles of blood but as usual, they were clean. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, gripping his fingers together with the intention of stopping the adrenaline from making them shake as (Y/n)'s door opened just as he leaned back against the wall. Her smile making his heartbeat increase dramatically.

The game had only just started.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #bodyguard #borhap #joe mazzello #joe x reader #unlawful protector

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 5 years

Text

Afraid Ch. 3

Warnings: None

1988

“Nikki I will tackle you” I growled under my breath.

“Do it then brat” Nikki challenged with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Oh I was gonna make him eat those words.

“Don’t whine later from your wheelchair” I smirked walking backward to gain momentum before charging forward across the table and into Nikki’s middle section. He must not have believed I would do it because he quickly lost footing and fell to the floor with me on top of him. “Nikki?!” I thought I really hurt him because he wasn’t saying anything, and then he erupted into laughter.

“You really tackled me holy shit” Nikki gasped between giggles. “All that over a pudding cup” I couldn’t help but laugh with him when he had a laugh like that. It was a young laugh, boyish, like a child being pushed high on the swings for the first time. It made my body feel warm, I quickly squash that thought with a shake of my head and snatch the pudding cup from Nikki’s hand and begin to eat it.

“Come on give me a bite” He begged trying to give me a pout. It was really cute, but I refused to fall for that game. He wasn’t pulling the old ‘Nikki Sixx charm’ on me.

“Fuck off Sixx.” I said getting ready to spoon another helping into my mouth when Nikki grabbed my hand and tried to pull the spoon, and my hand with it, into his mouth. The shaking of the spoon caused some to land on my fingers.

“Sixx, what the fu-” The words died in my throat as Nikki licked the pudding off the spoon and then my fingers without breaking eye contact.

“Thanks (y/n)” He winked getting up from the table. I sat there watching his with my mouth slightly agape until I heard a scoff. I jolted back to reality and looked at Mick shaking his head and eating his own lunch.

“If you two don’t fuck the moment this thing is over all this sexual tension would be wasted” He rolled his eyes and got up making his way to the trash. No? I wasn’t attracted to Nikki. He annoyed me and he was always placing his arm on my head like my skull said “Resting place for Nikki Sixx’s arm and his arm only”. He was cocky and believed his was the baddest guy in rock ‘n’ roll. Yes he had pretty eyes, and yes sometimes I admire how his thighs looked when he walked around in his athletic shorts, and sometimes she got dizzy looking at his lips, but there was no way I wanted to be any sort of intimate with Nikki Sixx. I just was suffering from a cloudy brain due to a dry spell. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I couldn’t get the image of Nikki licking my fingers out of my head. Every time I started to zone out during an activity or in group I would go back to that moment of Nikki flicking his tongue across my index finger while looking at me with smokey-

“What’s got you thinking so hard there, poohbear?” Nikki spoke up startling me and bringing me back to the present.

“Jesus christ don’t scare me like that.” I said remembering I was smoking by the greenhouse and taking a drag off my cigarette.

“I’ve been here for like 5 minutes while you stared into the abyss and got progressively more red in the face” He snickered and I felt my face grow red again. Fuck.

“I was just thinking about how happy I will be to get home and see the person who means the most to me” I side eyed him gauging his reaction. At first his smile fell and he looked pissed, but then his mouth twisted up into his signature smirk.

“Whoever he is I bet he isn’t as cool as me” He scoot closer to me leaning with his arm above my head.

“Oh I don’t know about that. Some would say he’s the coolest cat in town.” I teased staring right into his eyes.

“Psh he definitely isn’t as handsome as I am” He leaned closer to my face and I could smell a hint of coffee on his breath.

“I would say he’s double as handsome as you are actually” I stood on my tippy toes getting my face right up to Nikki’s. I could feel his breath ghost over my face and our lips were dangerously close.

“If he’ s so amazing, then why are you like this right now with me?” Nikki whispered nudging my nose with his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down so my lips were barely grazing his ear.

“Because he’s my fucking cat you idiot” I whispered before ducking under his arm and walking away giggling at his dumbfounded expression. Men were so easy to trick sometimes. I made my way to my room and thought about Nikki leaning over me, touching his nose to mine, his soft pink lips so close to mine, and his eyes a mix of desire and nervousness. He’s an asshole don’t fall for his bullshit, I tried to tell myself, but it was of no use. I went to sleep picturing his hands above my head gripping the headboard using it for leverage as he ground his hips into mine teasing me, never quite letting me have what I want. Which was him.

Nikki’s POV

(Y/N) was driving me crazy. She had to know what she was doing to me with every giggle, every look thrown my way, hell even her rolling her eyes at me was giving me butterflies these days. I decided I would ask possibly the worst person for advice on the subject, Tommy.

“Dude you totally love her” Tommy laughed and punched my arm softly as we avoided the painting activity to talk to each other and occasionally paint the other’s arm.

“I don’t love her Tommy. I don’t know her.” I rolled my eyes and swiped a red stripe down his arm.

“Listen man I don’t know about a lot of shit, but I know love. That’s how I felt when I met Heather dude. Without her shit’s just gray dude. She brings light into your life like Heather does for me.” Tommy shook his head as if I was the clueless one.

“I don’t even know who she really is as a person. What if she’s a huge cunt?” I scoffed.

“Dude when you love someone it’s all worth it. Promise” Tommy leaned back to admire his painting. I turned toward him more to get a better look and saw it was just two big boobs on the canvas. Tommy was absolutely right. He didn’t know much.

I snuck away to the greenhouse to smoke a cigarette and secretly hoped that (y/n) would be there so I could try to get her all flustered again, but it was only Vince there.

“What’s up dude?” Vince said handing me his matches as I took a spot on the wall next to him.

“Oh ya know, living the dream teenage me thought we would be living.” Nikki snickered and was surprised to hear Vince chuckle a little at his joke.

“Man I can’t wait to see Sharise when we get out of here.” Vince sighed “I’m gonna pound her into the matress” It was always the same shit with Vince, booze, pussy, and fast cars were the only things he seemed to care about and it was really starting to piss me off.

“I want to head to Vancouver pretty soon after we’re done here to start working on the next album. I already have some stuff written that I think you guys will like.” I said taking a puff and exhaling through my nose.

“Man I feel like we just got back from working and tour and shit. Can’t we take a year off I got a fucking little girl man.” Vince kicked a rock on the ground at the fence.

“I want us to keep this sober momentum” I shrugged as he stalked off clearly pissed. Normally I’d poke the bear, but today I was content on contemplating my feelings in private. “So what are you doing when this is done with?” I asked (y/n) leaning over the table and stealing one of her chunks of watermelon that was served with our dinner tonight.

“I can’t wait till next week when we can eat in our rooms so I never had to try to stomach food around you again.” She slapped my hand and glared at me. It was really cute how she scrunched her nose when she scowled at someone.

“That doesn’t answer my question” I smiled wide for her. Only for her.

“I am not sure what I’m doing when this is done. I assume that I work on whatever album Elektra tells me to work on.” She shrugged. This was perfect for me.

“Come to Vancouver with us then.” I replied nonchalantly despite me freaking out on the inside.

“Excuse me?! You want me to what??” She choked

“Come with us to help produce our next album” I shrugged “You work for the record label we’re under anyway.” Ah there was that blush that I loved to see.

“Um wh-why do you want me to come?” She was growing more red by the minute.

“Because I think you would be an asset to this next album” I half lied. “Plus I want a reason to continue to bother you for more months”

“Oh my god you’re such a child” She laughed and lightly shoved my arm, but I grabbed her wrist and held it close to my mouth. I watched as she gulped and I felt my mouth twist into a smirk at the sight.

“So what do you say?” I ghosted my lips across her knuckles and revelled in the reaction I was getting out of her.

“I’ll go. But only because I’ve always wanted to go to Canada.” She squeaked snatching her hand out of my grasp and getting up from the table to throw her trash away.

“You two are fucking ridiculous” Mick grumbled from across the table with his arms folded across his chest.

“Oh save it I had to watch you and Emi make eyes for a full tour” I grunted getting up from the table.

I didn’t know what these feelings that I had for (y/n) were, but I knew I wanted to continue to explore them. Hell, if that was gonna be on Elektra’s dime the whole time, then he was perfectly fine dragging this out for a few months.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue fanfic

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