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rcksmith · 3 years

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Invigorating — Five Hargreeves

Request : “Hii so i was thinking about some fic/headcanons where five discover that his powers are stronger when he is with reader.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope I got close to what you wanted. I thought it was better to do it in fic, but it was just out of personal preference, I hope you like it, I found it very adorable to write. Love u❤️

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Nothing, just fluff.

— — — — —

The superhero life was a mess. Behind all the glamor of HQ’s and the romanticization of the media, there were only people trying to cope with their own lives when everything that was expected of them was nothing short of extraordinary. All the Hargreeves brothers knew this. And they carried the weight of the whole world on their backs. It was like trying to breathe with a rock pressed against your chest, purging all hope of relief.

They would never have a normal life, with normal parents or friends. They would always be chained to that sentence that came with their powers. Sometimes, late at night, some of the Hargreeves wondered how much smoother life would have been had they not been born extraordinary.

Five stopped imagining fantasies that would never come true from an early age. He viewed situations with objectivity, coolness and calculus. But life at the Hargreeves mansion was not easy and the only way for him to deal with the traumas and pressures was to push them under the rug. Then Five started to scoff when the brothers talked about having a normal life.

Who did they want to think about it? They would always be circus attractions. They would never have a normal life. So it was better to get over it, because you can't miss what you never had, and it was stupid want to live a false normal life. They would never be normal, it was the curse of the Hargreeves, and Five accepted that.

But you revoked all of his sentences. You were absolutely normal. Typical life, family, friends and routine. And when you came into the life of the Hargreeves and brought the breath of relief that everyone needed, Five felt that rock be lifted from his chest whenever you were close.

And then he knew normalcy. Five tasted the sweet taste that was enjoying a ray of sunshine, a summer breeze, a sunset, all the normal details that you inserted into his life and that now ... now he had something to miss.

During the months, your presence, for Five, was a sigh of relief amid all the claustrophobic, and he felt a certain envy when he saw how Klaus had a way with dealing with people. How he and Alisson always knew what to say, how to act, and how to captivate you to the point where you want to spend more time with them.

It was hell for Five. because you presence calmed all his nerves, your energy soothed the restless air and removed the rock that prevented him from breathing. Five realized how much he liked fresh air. And he didn't know how to make you want to be close to him too. He felt at peace when you were close. And it was an overwhelming discovery.

“Here it is.” You said, handing Five a mug of coffee, without him even asking.

That was one more thing that made you wonderful in his eyes. You two never had a long conversation, but you knew enough, and whenever you were in the kitchen, helping the Hargreeves for breakfast, you knew exactly what to give him.

Okay, to be fair, you knew exactly what to deliver to everyone. For Klaus, passion fruit juice and hangover aspirin, big and fat pancakes for Luther and Diego, Waffles for girls and strong black coffee for him. It wasn't like Five thought you were treating him in a special way.

But... whenever you gave him coffee and your midday sun smile, that was the best part of the day. And he wished, deep down in his soul, that it was special.

He nodded his head. And he drank the coffee knowing that the taste would be nothing short of excellent. Five concluded that you had a habit of turning everything you touched into gold.

“Are you going to see training today to wait for us?” Alisson asked you.

It was Friday, and Alisson, Klaus, Vayna and you had agreed to go shopping after them training. It was not new you and them to go out together, but it was new for you to watch their training. It was nothing formal, just routine, so it was easier to wait for them finishe than you to leave and return.

“If it's okay with you guys.”

The brothers agreed and Five thought it best not to show any reaction. He told himself it was because it didn't matter whether you saw a workout or not, but, deep in his soul, Five knew it was for fear that if you focused your attention on him, you would end up listening to him fast heartbeat.

But if he knew that everything would start in that training, he would have thought twice about going.

You were sitting on one of the mats in the garden, sometimes reading something on your phone while the brothers practiced the training. It should have been routine for them, as usual, but they all had difficult missions last night and felt exhausted to do their best.

Five came to know his own limits, he knew when his body was entering the last reserves and that it would no longer hold its powers. It was like a big battery that he needed to recharge to keep working. He felt the sting in his muscles, a warning that Five came to understand that signaled that his powers were going to fail.

Five was already orchestrating strategies to dodge Diego's knives when, already knowing that it wouldn't work, he tried to teleport. But the blue flash swallowed him up and when he took him behind his brother, and Five felt his muscles revitalized, the shock left him stunned.

It had never happened. But it hasn't happened again in weeks too.

Five spent days trying to understand how his powers took a turn and then retracted the same stake when he trained again. The bite always hit him in the muscles and then his powers left him in the hand. Five could no longer find the invigorating sensation that followed the hooks.

The second time his powers got stronger was when Luther was pissing him off. They had arrived from an exhausting and difficult mission, and that time you asked them to come to your apartment for dinner. Because you knew that the negativity of the mansion would not do well for a situation that had already brought out the best in the Hargreeves. Always the good person. You knew how to alleviate a situation with the smallest of gestures, and it made you look wonderful again in the eyes of Five.

After dinner, Luther was teasing Five, throwing cushions at him across the room, while everyone talked and rested in the living room. You made them feel like it was just a normal end of day. That they were just tired after work, traffic, and not because they were damn superheroes who fought a nuclear leak and terrorists. It seemed to Five that everything was easy and charming with you.

Then, when Luther threw another pillow at him, and Five felt the sting in his muscles, but tried to teleport to strike back anyway, the invigorating air ran through his muscles and the blue flash swallowed him.

Once again, Five was surprised. And suddenly, he forgot why he teleported.

His mind hummed like a propeller, trying to understand what the hell was going on. And that's when his eyes were drawn to you, like magnets.

The world was seemed to run out of breath, the atmosphere slowed and he followed every move you made until your eyes met his. It was instantaneous. A hot desert wind swept Five from head to toe, and brought the hot, overwhelming thought “It's her.” You were doing it. You were the one who left him invigorated. You removed the rock from his chest and he could breathe. His powers were reacting to you, and the realization it that stunned Five.

You smiled for him and went back to talking to Vayna, oblivious to the overwhelming discoveries that flooded Five.

The third time your presence showed that his theory was right was when you two were alone. It was Tuesday night. You were making cocktails with Klaus and laughing when he gave his verdict:

"I am happy that you are beautiful and intelligent enough to know that you must think about several other professions, because you would definitely make a terrible bartender." Klaus put aside a drink you made after making a face.

You laughed, throwing an olive at him.

“Why beauty would help me?”

“Prostitution, perhaps.”

“KLAUS!” You looked at him with amused indignation and you two laughed out loud.

“I'm going to get something good. Don't get out of here.” He stood up, taking his coat.

“Be careful!”

“I always do, baby.” He shouted at the door, leaving.

You laughed at nothing, cleaning up the mess you had made on the counter, throwing the used lemons in the trash.

That was when Five appeared. The mission mask on his face, the uniform slightly scorched.

“Hey.” You smiled as soon as you saw him, your heart beating faster. “All right?” You pointed to his clothes.

“Fire” Five say, sitting on the stools at the counter you were on and opening the bottle of vodka.

You gave him a glass, and Five thanked him silently while filling a shot and turning it all over at once. You couldn't get your attention off him. His hair was black as the background of the galaxy, his lips were red with drink, the mask adorned his eyes. God, he was beautiful and you felt that you could no longer reason consistently.

This always happened when Five was involved. He is a god of Olympus who had the power to destabilize you with just one look. Now, however, the mask delivered that he could swing you just in the presence.

In fact... that mask just made everything more mysterious and attractive. You felt something humming inside you, like a harp string that connects your heart to your belly.

“What?” Five's voice brought you out of the trance, revealing that you were looking at him for too long.

“N-nothing” You tried not to blush.

You turning around to put away the other bottles that Klaus and you had removed. But the floor was damp from the melted ice cubes you both dropped. And you was so stunned that you slipped.

As soon as the world spun and the wind hit your face, you were prepared to fall to the ground when a blue flash protected you and firm arms held you.

The breath drained, the callus increased, and Five was absolutely sure that it was you who made him stronger. You were the one who reinvigorated his powers because when he came out of that fire, the sting in his muscles hit him hard, and he knew he hadn't been able to use his powers anymore.

But when you looked up at him, and Five felt your warm skin on his hands, he knew he couldn't stay away from you anymore. He thought about doing something, his body was screaming for you, but he didn't have a chance. Your fingers touched the corner of his mask, gently contouring the left edge.

“You're Gorgeous...” Your whispered was a breath, but Five could hear.

Then he leaned over and pressed his lips to yours, because he felt he couldn't live any longer if he didn't. And when you kissed him back, his whole battery was recharged and that rock that was choking him was destroyed in millions of pieces.

As soon as you were apart enough to breathe, your fingers removed his mask and curled your fingers in his black hair. And this time, it was you who brought your lips together in the most passionate kiss.

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

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Take What You Need

A special treat for the lovely @keeper0fthestars - a flimsy excuse to get railed into next week by Francisco Morales.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with a flimsy nod to plot. Word count: 2300

Thanking @alwaysbethewest and @songsformonkeys for the beta!!

“All right! You heard the man, wheels up in thirty!” Redfly shouted across the small airfield. “Catch some sleep, eat, do whatever, but I want us all in that helo, in thirty.”

“Copy that,” Pope shouted back, heading off towards the thick bushes surrounding the hangar and aircraft. Ironhead followed, probably to try and talk some sense into him. Ironhead had always been the most sensible of you all.

In fact, it was William who had spoken up for you when Pope suggested you come along.

“She’s good with a rifle,” Ironhead said calmly. “And her Spanish is decent. Way better’n mine and Benny’s, anyways.”

Redfly - the infuriatingly traditional conservative middle-class American man - had ummed and aahed, and you knew it was because you had a vagina.

But here you were, and you’d taken out two of Lorea’s guys from the roof with your rifle, so Redfly could suck your metaphorical dick.

The man in question loped back to the other side of the airfield, towards Pope’s informant, and started to talk to her about something.

“This is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”

You turned at that voice. A little raspy, a little husky-edged, it sent a shiver up your spine. Always had, and probably always would.

Francisco Morales shook his head when you turned to look at him. His ballcap - dirty, soft - was pulled down low over his head. Hair the colour of milk chocolate curled out from underneath it. He met your gaze, and his own hazelnut eyes were so, so tired.

“It could’ve gone better,” you agreed, letting your eyes trail down his long, lean frame - a little soft in the middle, but you’d always liked his tummy.

Francisco - Catfish to you all, because during special ops training, he’d caught one almost the size of himself - was an enigma of a man. Soft, sometimes. Hard, sometimes.

You’d known him five years now, and during that time you’d seen him pull the trigger a foot from a man’s head without wincing, and you’d seen him comfort a three year old girl left homeless in a war zone, his voice soft, his touch gentle. The yin and yang of him fit, somehow.

Catfish scoffed. “Not sure how it could’ve gone any fucking worse.” He ripped off his cap, and your eyes were drawn to a deep cut on his cheek.

“What’s this?” You automatically reached up to touch his face. His tanned skin was rough under your fingers as you traced the edges of the healing wound. “It might scar.”

Francisco grunted. “Like that’s a concern right now.”

You grinned, dropped your hand. “It’ll be sexy. The scar, I mean.”

“You think?” He laughed without humour, wrung his cap in his hand, and you saw how drawn his starkly handsome face was, the patchy scruff around his jawline grey in places. God, had you thought about kissing that almost-beard, stroking your fingers over his bristly chin. “I wish being sexy was what worried me most. I’m fuckin’ losing my shit here. The scales are off the charts, the helo will never make it to the ocean-” he swore a stream in Spanish, and stuffed his hat back on. The frustration steamed off him in waves.

“Fish.” You braced your hands on his shoulders, looked up into his face, twisted with anger and fear. “We’ll be okay. We’ve had worse than this.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never had worse with you,” he bit off, shrugging off your touch and pacing away, shoving his cap back on, his hair curling at the edges. “Jesus fucking Christ, if anything happens to you, I’ll-”

“Fish!” You shout to be heard over the noise of the aircraft prep, the wind, the sound of Redfly and Pope’s informant arguing. “Nothing will happen to me. You saw me take out Lorea’s guys. And I saved your ass on that mission in Istanbul.”

Francisco shifted, adopting that hands-on-hips stance he always did when he was thinking. “I know.”

“Then what? I’m not a porcelain doll, Francisco.”

And you saw it. His eyes went hot when you used his full name. Hot and sort of.. Dark. Like he wanted to drag you into that hangar and bend you against the corrugated metal wall and rail you into next week.

And boy, you’d let him.

“What?” you challenged. He needed this release. Whether it was shouting at you or whether you wrestled until the fight had gone out of him, he could not fly that helo with your lives and that money at stake in such a state.

He muttered something in Spanish. Your command of the language was very good but his voice was pitched too low for you to make out the syllables.

“Oh, you wanna go?” You lifted your fists in a mock fighting stance. “You ever hit a girl, Morales?”

“There’s always a first time,” he gritted out humourlessly.

You danced around, goading him. “Maybe you’re afraid I’d kick your ass.”

Fish scoffed, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, in the line of his back. He was a loaded powder keg, seconds from a bloody explosion from the heat, the stress, the shooting. “Stop it.”

“Make me.”

You saw the moment his eyes changed - went dark again, and you turned, running for the hangar.

You heard him bark out a laugh as he pursued you, his long legs eating up the terrain. You ran flat out, reaching the hangar in under a minute, Fish hot on your heels. The minute he barrelled through the door you slammed it behind him.

“What the fuck?” he asked, confusion parading over his face - somehow even more alluring when he was dirty, tired, stressed.

You yanked him close and kissed him. It was the first time, and all the times you’d thought about kissing him, an inaurgural kiss, it was never like this. It was in your shitty home town, under some trees, or under the bleachers of the old high school, or by moonlight at the drive-in.

It took a second, and then Francisco was kissing you back, his lips fierce, hard, the kiss almost painful in its intensity. He tasted of terrible coffee and the beef jerky you’d all forced down, and you licked into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his, and the flavour of his little groan was divine.

“We don’t have long,” he whispered harshly. “What - what do you want?”

Your breath was coming in pants. He smelled of clean sweat, the outdoors, and the spring rain, and you were wetter than you’d ever been. This close to Catfish, you couldn’t cope with the well of desire, too long ignored. “You can’t fly us like this, Fish. In this state.”

His hands clenched on your hips. “What?”

“Relieve the pressure.” You slid a hand down his body, cupped him, felt his erection like steel in velvet. Your blood fired. “For us both.”

“Shit.” Francisco leaned down, rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve fucking dreamed of this. But not… not like this, like you’re a cheap fuck. You’re not. You’re… everything.”

The words shook you, and you pressed your lips to his, drinking him in, loving him, like you’d loved him nearly five years, and always been afraid to rock the boat.

Well, now the boat had run aground and it was time.

“You can show me that when we’re safely back on American soil, soldier. For now…” you yanked him close again, pressed your palm to his cock. “Take what you need. Give me what I need.”

“Fuck,” he bit off, and then he was kissing you like a starving man falling upon a banquet, all tongues and teeth and Frankie, and you pressed as close to him as you could.

“How long do we have?” you panted out.

He shot his cuffs, checked his watch. “Quarter hour.”

“Then make every minute count, Morales.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed. And he got on his knees in front of you, pulling at your jeans.

Your heart leapt into your chest at the first brush of his breath on your bare legs. Frankie rolled the denim down, ghosted a kiss over your underwear.

“You would not believe, baby, how often I’ve jacked off to the thought of having you,” he whispered.

“Fish, if you don’t do something, I swear to God…”

He took off his cap, passed it to you. “Wear this for me.” After you slapped it on your head, he pulled your hand back down, thrust it into his hair. You tugged him close as he yanked your underwear down and proceeded to fucking feast on you.

You’d never experienced Frankie like this. Near feral, his tongue licking at you like you were his last meal, his favourite food, a longed-for treat. He used his hands - hands you’ve wished were on you, inside you - to spread you so he could spear his tongue inside you, nip at your clit, write his name with his tongue, whatever the fuck he was doing, it felt like Heaven.

“Stop. Stop,” you whined, pushing at his hair. “Want to come with you inside me.”

He looked up, those cocoa eyes dark and hot and irresistible, and then he was on his feet in a hot second, and he spun you around to face the wall.

“Hold on to something, baby,” he muttered against your neck before he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin at your pulse point, the tiny hurt only making you wetter.

The sound of his belt buckle being undone and the shove of the denim down his thighs was loud to your ears.

“Please,” you gritted out, arching your back.

Frankie slid a palm down your naked butt, and you heard the growl in his voice when he said, “Sweet girl. When we get back on US soil….” And then he positioned himself and slid home in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gripped the hangar wall hard and cried out at the pleasure and the stretch. He kept going until he bottomed out, curses in English and Spanish falling from his lips in that husky baritone made for pure sin, and then as you groaned in satisfaction, he curled a hand around to your front and rubbed you in maddening circles.

“We don’t have long,” you warned, muscles already fluttering.

“Fuck. Won’t take long. You feel too good. You’re so fucking tight. How - how do you-”

“Fast and hard,” you instructed, and you felt him twitch inside you at your words, heard his moan. “I wanna feel you tomorrow, Francisco.”

“Oh fuck,” he grated out, and then he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force was just what you needed, and you cried out at the wonderful pressure, the push of him inside you, the texture and shape of him. Better, harder, larger than you had imagined.

You spread your legs as much as you could given the denim around your calves, and Frankie fucks you hard, keeping one hand on your hip and the other at the apex of your body, strumming you expertly.

“Wish we had more fucking time,” he rasped into your hair, pressing a frantic kiss there. “Sweet girl. You feel like heaven. Always.. Knew.. you would.”

“The things I’m gonna to do you when we get home,” you shot back, and pressed your hips into him. “Oh God, more, please.”

He upped the tempo, and the sound of your bodies slapping together was obscene. His fingers circled your clit once, twice more, and you flew off that sweet cliff edge, crying out his name and burying your face in your elbow to muffle the sound.

Frankie’s hips faltered as he gave you all he had, thrusting into you at a punishing pace before his hips stuttered.

“Two minute warning!” Ironhead yelled from outside.

“I want to feel you come inside me, Fish,” you whispered over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” And he tumbled over the precipice too, hips shaking. You felt him jerk inside you, felt the hot surge of his climax, and he pressed down hard on your clit, triggering another little orgasm for you, too.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Frankie leant his forehead on your back, panting. “Christ.”

“You gotta get some more swear words, Morales,” you said, but your breath hitched too, and you wiggled your hips, making him shiver.

He pulled out, zipped up, and then took care putting your clothes in order. When he tugged you close for a kiss, you tasted yourself.

“First fucking chance I get,” Frankie rasped, his lips in your hair, “I’m gonna take my sweet time doing everything I want to you. With you.”

“Then get us over those mountains, Francisco, and I’m yours.” You nip at his bottom lip, then sprang apart when Redfly yanked open the hangar door.

“Fuck’s sake, Fish, we thought you’d gone AWOL. It’s go time.”

“Copy that,” Frankie shot back. You let him leave first, glanced down to admire his ass in those jeans.

And you thought, with single-minded determination: We just need to get over these mountains. Then Francisco Morales would be all yours.

Redfly looked at his departing back and then turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing Fish’s hat?”

****

Tagging the Pedro pals: @emmy-dandiliom918 @thirstworldproblemss @cinewhore @poenariuniverse @keeper0fthestars @scarlettvonsass @casually-introverted @knittingqueen13 @phoenixhalliwell @10-96dispatcher @buckstaposition @agirllovespasta @songsformonkeys @gamingaquarius @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @dornish-queen @maxphillipswasright @winters-buck @mourningbirds1 @pascalitomorales @mrsparknuts @alldatalost @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @auty-ren @heatherbel

it’s 10.45pm my brain has failed if I left you off I apologize!!

#catfish x fem!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader

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ezgithechaotic · 3 years

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The Parent Trap | Chapter Six; to love someone else

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

AU: The Parent Trap, dad!harry

series summary: Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.

chapter summary; There are so many thing to say, but so little time for Harry and Y\N.

author note; well hello there, ı’m back. It’s been really long and I’m so soryy about it. But I guess you guys are used to it. I will try to write the next chapter soon! Don’t be shy to send me a message if you would like to talk and be friends. I don’t bite, I promise!

I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. My askbox is always open if you want to talk. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

Taglist is open. Please send me an ask or comment if you want to be tagged! (22\30)

The Parent Trap Masterlist, main masterlist

Life had a funny way of bringing people together, and it had no interest in their desires. Sitting on one of the blue couches, a coffee in her hand, the only thing Y\N wanted to do was run away and never look back. But she wasn't eighteen anymore; she had learned that running from your problems only circled you back to them. So, she did what every reasonable person would do, stayed put. But now, seeing her hand shaking while holding the silver spoon, Y\N was questioning every decision she ever made that brought her to this point.

So much for getting over him Y\N, well done.

"You look good."

The moment words left his mouth Harry cursed himself silently. You look good. Of course, she did. Is that what he all had? After almost nine years, Y\N still made him tongue-tied. He wasn't the Harry who stood in front of thousands of people to perform; he was a boy again, and he hated it. He was eighteen again, seeing his producer's sister and thinking, maybe he is capable of love. Despite feeling like it was yesterday, Harry wasn't eighteen anymore. He didn't have the opportunities to be stupid and in love. It had been a long time since Harry had lost that chance. Wishing he could say sorry and explain anything wasn't going to solve anything, and it surely wasn't going to bring him his old Y\N, who was naive enough to fall in love with a worldwide star. She knew better now. So, maybe the only thing he could come up with was you look good.

Even though a moment of sadness passed her face, Y\N was quick to pull herself together. She put a kind smile on her face, the way she did when one of her customers made her feel tired, but she still had to keep going. Harry had seen that smile before when he told her he had to cancel one of their dates, again or when he told her that they couldn't be seen together in public.

"You look good too."

There it was again, her velvet-like voice. Y\N had always amazed Harry; she could be kind to everyone no matter what, even when the person across her was the reason for her broken heart. Neither of them dared to ask about their sons and each other. How would you ask about someone you chose to leave behind?

"Can I..." Y\N could feel her anxiety riling up. She took a deep breath and tried sitting more straight. "How is he?"

Harry's heart almost skipped a beat. He couldn't decide if he was stupid to send him away. Would it be less awkward if Benjamin was there, or would it be a dread to explain to him why his mother was standing in the middle of their guest room?

"Look, I know we had an agreement." Y\N sighed. Harry didn't realize how much time it took him to come up with an answer until she spoke. "I only want to know how he is."

"He's... Well, he's good."

Harry apparently lost his ability to form any good sentences that day, but it looked like he was talking to a brick wall. Y\N left her cup on the coffee table, now leaning and resting her elbows on her knees.

"I feel like I'm doing a terrible job." Eyes fixed on the ground and watery, head between her hands, Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Y\N so vulnerable. "Edward is the sweetest boy, I swear. He's the perfect kid any parent could ask for. And I feel like I'm the worst mother for tearing him apart from his brother, for not giving him the life he deserves. And the only thing I can think of is would he be happier if he were with you." She was up suddenly, pacing around the room.

"And how much I missed from Benjamin's life. Will, he ever know me, or Edward ever know you? Will they ever know each other? Will they ever forgive us for what we did?" She stopped, looking at Harry. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she looked into his green eyes. She wanted to keep going. Scream, shout, cry. But she stood there, looking at him, waiting like he could give her an answer.

Will I ever forgive myself for letting you go?

Y\N wanted to keep asking, but there was no point. She stopped a tear before it could reach her jaw, quickly. "God, I don't know how long I've been holding that in."

Harry was dying to apologize, to ask if she was missing him as much as he was missing her. He was dying to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he sat there, like an idiot.

"We were young, Y\N. We did what we thought was best. Wrong or right, there is no undoing it right now."

Hearing her name roll off his sweet mouth woke something inside Y\N. She had so many things she wanted to say but didn't know where to begin. Her mouth was frantically opening and closing back again, but nothing came out.

Sarah and Mitch were just outside the room, trying to listen to the conversation. "I swear he's so stupid," Mitch whispered. "Just say something!"

"Hey, be quiet. I'm trying to listen."

Before Mitch could say anything, he heard key sounds coming from the front door. He quickly turned to Sarah. "Camille wasn't visiting today, right?" He was praying that it wasn't Camille, but there wasn't anyone outside them who had keys to Harry's house.

"Shit."

"I know you're a great mother, Y\N; I know that. And I know we did wrong things, but that doesn't mean you're failing."

"I feel like I am." Y\N was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting with her white shirt. She wanted to yell, how could he possibly know what kind of mother she was? He was never there. Harry stood up with a purpose to walk to Y\N and maybe to hold her. But his actions stopped when the door to the guest room opened.

And there she was, Camille Rowe with all her glory. Blonde hair sitting on her shoulders, red-colored lips, and long lashes, she looked like she came straight from a runway. And Y\N tried with all her might, but she couldn't hate her. Even though her pants were horrible, even though she always used her beauty to get away with her cruelty. And, true, the diamond ring sitting on her finger was no help, but still, she had no hate for her. It wasn't Camille's fault that she was at his feet, basically asking Harry to fix everything because she was too vulnerable.

How Y\N wished she could love somebody else that wasn't Harry. She wished she could move on as he did. But it was stuck, her whole life was stuck since he left her without any explanation. Sometimes she would feel so ready to love someone else, to find anybody willing to take her this broken. She tried so hard, lying to herself, making everyone believe she got over him. She didn't listen to any of his songs, watch anything that could be related to him. She was running away for the last nine years, not once stopping and looking back. Well, look where it brought her to now, sitting in the same room with him and his fiancee, who had no idea how much history they had.

"I honestly love everything piece you do." Did she? Y\N couldn't tell if Camille knew everything or not. But if she did, she was a damn good actress. And Y\N was terrified of what could come after this if she didn't leave that house right now. "I would love it if you worked on my wedding dress."

Y\N's whole world was upside down at that moment. Her hair on her neck stood on end. Her whole body was shivering; she didn't know if it was rage or hurt. Still, the smile came up again.

"I'm afraid I'm too busy with my new collection."

"Well, I will have to find someone else, I guess." Camille laughed, her hand sneaking up Harry's leg. Y\N was burning, her blood felt like it was boiling inside her veins. She needed to get out of there, quick. "But I'm so glad Harry could reach somebody. He had been looking for that cardigan for days, now. I thought he was going crazy." She laughed again, unlike everyone else in the room but, apparently she didn't care.

"It was no problem, honestly. Jonathan is a dear friend of mine; I was just doing a favor." Y\N couldn't believe how calm she sounded. Maybe she should have chosen to be an actress.

"I'm sure you're very busy, but we would love to see you at the wedding. Right, honey?" Camille turned to Harry, waiting for his approval. Harry quickly nodded as if he was waiting to agree to everything she was saying. "Of course."

"I'll have to see, I guess." Y\N didn't know how much longer she could pretend like everything bathed in sunlight. So, she got up, ignoring the shaking in her legs. "I should go, my team is probably waiting for me."

"It was lovely to meet you." Camille held her hand out. Her grasp was hard like she was telling Y\N to start running and never look back again. Still, Y\N stood her ground, firmly taking her handshake and smiling. Her eyes meet Harry's for a second. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't think anything that she could say would turn this around. So, she lied instead.

"Congratulation on the engagement. You two make a lovely couple."

Y\N couldn't believe she could lie so effortlessly, without any trembling in her voice. Still, shaking Camille's warm hand and seeing her next to Harry with a diamond on her hand made her want to get in her car and run away to somewhere very far away that she could throw up. So, she did that.

TAGLIST: @yllwtaxi @meredithhuntt @soullessbabee @xoxoellll @2kayla64 @sometrueaffection @fromthedt @angelbabyivy @kennedywxlsh @harrymarvel @kisskillstudio @pouge-h @sunsetcurve-h @odetostep @yhound @chubby-dumpling @swtxel @moonstarrnghtsky @blackfarrahfawcett @deeppoetryface @butterflycloss @revise-it-all

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#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #the parent trap #the parent trap au #the parent trap au moodboard #harry styles the parent trap au #one direction #one direction imagine

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decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd.

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.

_____________________

III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away. It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

__________________________________________

Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha 306 #bnha fanfiction #the great book of sayings

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larryfanfiction · 4 years

Photo

Disney AU

🌹 Elysian by wonderlou (81k) Beauty and the Beast AU

“What could be it, Niall?” Harry asks gently with a sigh. He slouches down further into his chair, crossing his arms lazily across his chest. He is bored. He has been bored for five years straight, but even more so now that his one interest has shut himself out entirely. Harry had not even heard from Louis, not since last night, not since he had gotten on his nerves so much that he was torn between knocking him out and smiling in surrender to the slight awe he felt. Louis is opinionated like no one he’s ever seen, but his voice is honeyed; high-pitched and indignant. Harry is nothing short of entranced.

Or, Harry is running out of time to fall in love, but with Louis, it seems as if there’s all the time in the world.

🧜🏻‍♂️ The Importance of Body Language by zimriya (11k) The Little Mermaid AU

Harry really has no idea how he’s going to get out of this one. After the little incident with the fishing wire, he’d been told that under no circumstances was he to visit the surface of the water, as he is the heir to the throne and his safety is essential to the continued existence of their underwater society. Or something. Harry loves his mum, but there’s really only so much talk of royal duty a prince can take before he does something drastic. Like purposefully disobey her strict instructions to stay under the sea for the rest of his natural life, and instead swim too close to a human ship and get himself spotted by none other than the unfairly attractive Prince Louis Tomlinson, for example.

Needless to say, Harry is fucked.

🧜🏻‍♂️ Hey baby won't you look my way by larrysbitchx (10k) The Little Mermaid AU

Louis want’s a prince charming. Harry might just be him. But what happens when a human and a merman fall in love?

🐶🐱 We Could Live This Life Forever by dearmrsawyer (31k) Lady and the Tramp AU

When Harry’s adoptive parents bring home a brand new baby of their own, he fears they won’t want him anymore.

A Lady and the Tramp AU where everyone’s human

⚓️ Drowning In Your Eyes by smittenwithlouis (45k) Pirates of the Caribbean AU

“Capt’n Styles, are you certain of this? They be attracted to man-made light.” “What is? Sharks?” The young blonde asks in terror. “Worse than sharks, lad. There’ll be flesh eating mermaids upon us in minutes, mark my words!” Paul huffs as he continues to wave the bright lantern in front of him, “And Captain Styles here, has us bait!” Or: The Pirates of the Caribbean inspired au where Harry is a fierce pirate who holds the heart of a beautiful merman.

👑 Because You Saw Me When I Was Invisible by supernope (32k) Princess Diaries AU

A (not so) loosely-based Princess Diaries AU, in which Harry finds out he’s the heir to the throne of a country he’s never even heard of.

🏹 Not in Nottingham by UserFromPluto (11k) Robin Hood AU

“Love him?” The prince repeated, “and does this prisoner return your love?” Harry did not answer but stood looking at Louis, trembling and heaving breaths. Louis met his gaze, hair falling over his eyes, arms gripped roughly by two guards. “Harry,” he said simply, “I love you more than life itself.”

(Robin Hood au in which Harry and Niall steal the show, Liam’s big heart gets him in trouble, and Zayn and Louis really should stop being arrow magnets)

👠 a dream is a wish your heart makes by theneverending (22k) Cinderella AU

Fairytale retelling of Cinderella, where Harry is a servant boy who’s too kind, Louis is a prince in an arranged marriage, Liam is Harry’s step brother, and Niall is Louis’ dutiful grand duke.

👠 your rainbow will come smiling through by hazkaban (17k) Cinderella Story AU

when harry isn’t working at his stepfather’s cafe, he’s trying to make swim captain and trying to finish all his coursework on time. when he’s not doing any of those things, he’s talking to the boy he met on the oxford hopefuls subreddit. when they decide to meet, he’s elated. he finally gets the chance to meet the boy he’s been crushing on! when the day comes to meet his prince, he learns that his online crush is none other than louis tomlinson, captain of the football team and friend of his terrible stepbrothers. now harry has to decide whether telling louis the truth is the right choice or if it’s better to just let sleeping dogs lie.

🦎 long hair don't care by ballsdeepinjesus (20k) Tangled AU

He catches his breath and stands, brushing dirt off of his breeches when he hears a scared peep behind him. Louis spins around, startled, and is greeted by the sight of an extremely pale boy with extremely luscious dark brown curls. His hand starts to reach out involuntarily to try and pet his hair, but he stops it quickly and tries to smooth it into a bow. He glances up, fluttering his lashes, and levels the trembling boy with a charming smile.

“Hi,” he drawls. He doesn’t see the frying pan until it’s too late. Everything goes black.

[harry is sheltered and louis is a thief. or, a tangled au.]

🦎 You Were My New Dream by larryshares (48k) Tangled AU

Prince Harry has spent the majority of his life trapped within the castle walls, forced to hide from the kingdom he never asked to be born into. He doesn’t want to be the next King of Eroda, because according to his father, kings don’t wear dresses, paint their nails, or braid flowers into their magical hair. And Harry happens to love those things about himself, almost as much as he thinks he could love the new combat instructor his father has summoned to mold him into a more acceptable man, just in time for his impending coronation.

🧚🏻‍♀️ no place to call home by suspendrs (21k) Peter Pan AU

“What are you smiling about, Harrison,” the boy spits, body language suddenly getting defensive. “I’ll have you know that I’m-”

“Harry,” Harry interrupts, giggling. “My name is Harry. And if you’re not called Peter, then what are you called?”

The boy tilts his chin up slightly, surveying Harry like he’s checking if he’s worthy of knowing something as important as his name. “Well, Herschel, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”

Or, Louis isn’t Peter Pan and Harry isn’t Wendy and Neverland is nothing like Harry thought it would be, but it’s perfect anyway.

🧚🏻‍♀️ Tell Every Lost Boy (that you're my man) by LittleLostPieces (17k) Peter Pan AU

A modern-day Peter Pan AU, wherein Harry struggles with his overwhelming jealousy when Louis brings a new mate into their makeshift family.

Starring Louis as Peter Pan (obviously), Harry as Tinker Bell, the others as the Lost Boys, and Greg as Wendy

🧚🏻‍♀️ faith, trust and pixie dust (and a little bit of something else too) Peter Pan AU

“Are you seriously apologizing for taking out a bullet that was lodged in my shoulder and saving my life?” he asks slowly. “Y—yes?” the boy looks unsure of himself now.

“Marry me—”

For once, the boy isn’t the only one blushing and Louis silently curses Earthen terminology for making its way into his vocabulary.

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, he coughs out, “I mean thanks. That was very nice of you…?”

“Harry,” the boy fills in quietly, flashing Louis a tentative smile. Louis thinks it suits him well and he mouths the name to himself, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. He watches as Harry hesitates before asking his own question, albeit doubtfully.

“And you’re—you’re P—Peter Pan, right?”

Or, the one in which Louis is a punk Peter Pan and Harry is an insecure flower child.

❄️ The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway by timefornothing (17k) Frozen AU

“Lou! Give me my glove!” Louis held it back away from him, blue eyes glittering with desperation. “No, Zayn. Please, I can’t live like this anymore! We can’t keep the entire world shut out! I can’t live like this!” His words rung out shrilly, making the crowd go silent. Zayn stared at Louis, eyes wide with unimaginable pain. Finally, he swallowed hard, whispering quietly, “Then leave.” He took one more look at Louis before it was too much, then he turned away, stalking towards the back of the room. or the one where One Direction are the characters in Frozen. Starring Louis as Anna, Zayn as Elsa, Harry as Kristoff, Niall as Olaf, and Liam as that stone troll that always knows what to do.

♣️♟ like cabbages and kings by you_explode (60k) Alice in Wonderland AU

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

🌿 Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k) Tarzan AU

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

🗡 Dirty secret by iilarryii (122k) Mulan AU

"Dad, you can't go!" Louis yells to his father as he watches him pull out his sword.

"Louis, you know that I have to. It's the pack leaders orders," Dan says calmly. "I need you to promise me that you'll take care of the family if I die."

"So what? You'll just give up?"

"Of course not. I am just willing to die for my family's safety."

"So am I."

The Zoely pack is attacked by rogue alphas and the pack leader orders all alphas over the age of eighteen to protect their pack. Dan Deakin is one of the strongest alphas in the pack, but there is one problem. He has a wife and six kids to feed and look after. Louis is the oldest child and the one who wants to protect their family.

Or a Mulan AU where Louis is an omega who takes his father's place in the war.

📕 You Bring Me Home by reminiscingintherain (22k) Saving Mr. Banks AU

"Are you willing to fly to LA to meet with Tomlinson?" "I suppose I don't really have much of a choice, do I?" Harry grumped. "I'm assuming he's paying?" "Business class all the way," Liam nodded. "And he's kindly arranged for me to accompany you. So at least you're not going to be on your own." "Please do tell how that's a good thing."

Or, the one where Louis wants to turn Harry's book into a film, and Harry's very picky about what happens.

[Saving Mr Banks AU]

☂ Harry Poppins by jacaranda_bloom (32k) Mary Poppins AU

When Louis’ best friends pass away he finds himself with an instant family. Maddie and Thomas are wonderful children but take an immediate dislike to every nanny that sets foot inside their house. After nanny number six is summarily dismissed Louis is at his wit’s end, that is until an unusual man arrives on their doorstep. Harry Styles is like nothing any of them have ever encountered before, and perhaps, exactly what they’ve been looking for all along.

🐎 It's the Climb by lululawrence (25k) Hannah Montana AU

Louis stretched out his back and turned around, startled to see the most beautiful man he’d ever encountered in his life riding towards him on a horse.

He had to still be asleep. This was one of those super weird dreams people had where the knight in shining armor (or in this case, red sleeveless flannel) literally rode up to them calling their name. - The Hannah Montana AU where Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer. In her attempt for Louis to get back to his roots, he just so happens to reconnect with Harry, and things never go quite as Louis expects them to.

🎬 Supposed to Be by kikikryslee (26k) Geek Charming AU

“I’m making a movie for a film competition, and I want you to be in it,” Harry told Louis. “I think you would be a great leading actor in it.” “Why?” “Because it’s you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to know all about the amazing Louis Tomlinson? It would be a great movie.” “You don’t have some weird crush or, like, secret obsession with me, do you?” Louis asked. Harry bit his tongue so he didn’t say “Ew, I have standards.” He didn’t think that would go over well. Of course, that was assuming Louis understood what that meant. — Or, the Geek Charming AU where Harry’s a film geek, Louis’ a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

🐮 Love and Other Antidotes by haztobegood (16k) Emperor's New Groove AU

Arrogant pop star Harry Styles is transformed into a cow by his bandmate Amy Z after a heated argument. Left in the back of a truck, Harry finds himself at a rural farm hours away from his band. Harry has three days to make it back to London and turn back into a human before his next show. His only chance to reclaim his glamorous life rests with a kind farmer named Louis. They must work together to find the antidote before Amy Z finishes him off and takes over the band.

⚽️ The Game Plan by Justalittlelouislove (5k) Game Plan AU

Louis's life is exactly how he likes it: all about him. When it suddenly gets turned on its head and one little lady makes a huge impact, will he learn to handle it or run for the hills?

🎈 Up by Thingssicant (26k) Up! AU

Louis Tomlinson thought he had everything he wanted. He had a wife and daughter, a good job, a house with a white picket fence, and even a few pets along the way

It’s only when he turned 71 that a load of balloons and poorly timed knock on the door changed his life forever

🏰 Teacups by sincehewaseighteen (25k) Disneyland AU

"Looks like your attraction is not any body’s cup of tea today,” he puns cheekily. Harry rolls his eyes and lifts the box onto the counter easily, dusting his hands off without a blink of an eye to Louis. “I think it might be your costume.”

“Alright, babe, you listen here.” Harry comes forward and makes sure he’s close to Louis’ ear. Louis swallows carefully when Harry speaks. “Cut this shit out, you’re no Peter Pan in my eyes. You’re a fucking twit. I know what you’re like, and that’s all you need to worry about.”

or the au where louis works as peter pan at paris’ eurodisney while harry’s the mad-hatter who works at the teacup ride, and just so happens to be the annoyingly gorgeous man louis is in love with.

🏰 Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings by serenityandtea (8k) Disneyland AU

Louis and Harry spend a pre-Christmas weekend at Disneyland Paris with their three kids. Lots of fluff, rides and a meeting with Santa.

Everyone says that Disneyland is utter magic.

Louis definitely thinks so when he catches the look on his husband’s face; Harry looks completely ecstatic. Never mind their three children; Louis would go through all this hassle again just to have his husband beam at everything around him once more.

🏰 Acorns and Thimbles by izetta (12k) Disneyland AU

There is a startling amount of Disney films where the couple falls in love after just one day. Louis isn't entirely too convinced of how realistic that is, but he thinks he is starting to understand how they all felt.

Or an AU where Louis is Peter Pan at Disney World and Harry is a park guest.

🏰 Magic by dolce_piccante (3k) Disneyland AU

AU. Girl!Direction. Harry and Louis go to Disney for a wonderful holiday filled with familiar characters, fireworks, and some Magic Kingdom magic.

🏰 Faith and Trust and Pixie Dust by kotabear24 (10k) Disneyland AU

Harry Styles and his son, Lucas, are spending four days at Disneyland for Lucas' sixth birthday. Louis Tomlinson is Peter Pan there, and takes a shine to both the boys. He gives them tickets to a Peter Pan show that night, and spends the evening with the two before spending the night with Harry. Lucas and Harry both find themselves getting attachd to Louis, and Louis finds the same himself.

🏰 Once Upon a Dream by objectlesson (26k) Disneyland AU

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say noto Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

🏰 The Way You Make Me Feel by MiniMangaFan (6k) Disneyland AU

“You couldn’t last a damn day without trying to sleep with me.”

“I can last a whole fucking week,” Harry says, rising to Louis’ challenge.

“Wanna make a bet on that, Styles?”

“You’re on,” Harry grins.

Or, Disney AU where Louis and Harry try not to fuck in public places.

_____________________

Deleted fics we have a copy of (just send us an ask):

⚪️ Bittersweet and Strange by Keep_Calm_And_Read_Fic Beauty and the Beast AU

He agreed to stay so his sister could go free, but he never signed up for this. Beauty and the Beast AU in which Harry is taken prisoner in King Louis 'The Beast' Tomlinson's castle, Master Liam Payne may or may not be a torture specialist, Master Zayn Malik may or may not be the Master of War, and no one will tell him what the hell Niall does around here. Basically, Harry hates his enemy with a passion. Then he kind of has a passion for hisenemy. Then he wonders if he and Louis are enemies at all.

⚪️ The Dreams That You Wish by Keep_Calm_And_Read_Fic Cinderella AU

Cinderella/Ever After AU in which Louis is the world’s sassiest servant, Harry is a closeted prince with a deadline, Zayn is Harry’s chaperone, Liam is given the unenviable task of trying to distract Zayn long enough that his sister, Druscilla, can seduce Prince Harry (hint: doomed to failure) and Niall is the worlds most inappropriate fairy godfather. Destiny, romance, mistaken identity, sexcapades and oblivious!everybody abound in this gross bastardization of one of my all time favourite fairy tales.

More Masterposts

#disneyau #ma #disneyauma #masterpost

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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Teach me

Genre: soft smut Words: 2.120 Prompt: Seungcheol teaching an inexperienced reader Warnings: corruption (?), handjob, blowjob, repetitive use of the words fuck and baby

A/N: In case anyone is familiar with the story of the last accidental smut I wrote… It happened again. It was 12:30am and no one stopped me and suddenly it was 2am and I had written 1,7k smut in @min-inu ‘s dms again. I wish I could say I was sorry but I’m really not. Like last time I edited it a bit and hopefully fished out all spelling and grammar errors. Please remember that english is not my first language. Also this might be the softest smut I have ever written.

You had been to Seungcheol’s studio before, he had shown you his songs and then you two had cuddled on the plush sofa and watched a movie under the neon signs as the only form of lighting.

But today something was different and you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Earlier your boyfriend had shown you some of the songs he was working on before he had put on a playlist and joined you on the couch, your thighs pressed together and an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his strong chest.

“Hey beautiful,” Seungcheol hummed, gently taking your chin between his fingers to tilt your head up from where it was nestled into his chest. For a while he just admired your face, his fingers gently caressing your skin, causing you heat to rush to your face. A bright smile spread across his features before he closed the gap between you two, his lips gently pressing against yours. Your lips moved against each other lazily, absolutely no hurry in any of your moves when you buried your hands in his thick black locks and Seungcheol gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss you more comfortably. Relaxing further into him, a soft sigh left your lips, which he took as his chance to slip his tongue past your parted lips. Another gasp left your lips. You had never done anything like that before.

Just when you were tensing up, Seungcheol gently took your clenched hand in his, rubbing soothing circles along the back of it while his tongue kept exploring your mouth. Slowly he coaxed your own tongue to slide against his, groans leaving both of your parted lips. He quickly grabbed your waist and lifted you onto his lap, a little squeal leaving your lips before he claimed them again, kissing you passionately.

Meanwhile he let his hands roam over your body, caressing your waist, running along your spread thighs and eventually grabbing your ass firmly to pull you against the bulge in his jeans, a groan leaving his parted lips. “Do you see what you do to me?” He asked you breathless when you broke the kiss to look between your bodies where his growing erection was stretching the tight fabric of his dark jeans. Experimentally you slid a hand down from where you had buried it in his hair, down his strong chest and gently palmed his cock. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him and the way it twitched slightly as it grew.

“I’ve never done anything like this,” you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper, your eyes searching Seungcheol’s. A soft smile spread on his lips before he quickly pecked your lips. “I’ll teach you,” he promised, catching your lips again, kissing you until you were relaxed again, the hand that was still gently palming him almost forgotten. “You can push harder,” Seungcheol whispered into the air between you, canting his hips up to grind against your palm. With wide eyes you let him rut against you, amazed how his eyes darkened, the pink lights of the neon signs reflecting in the dark orbs. “Please touch me properly baby,” he sighed, “Make me feel good.”

He looked up at you from below his long eyelashes, searching your face for some kind of discomfort. When he found none, he quickly unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, leaving him in dark blue boxers. He gently kissed the knuckles of your hand before he guided it back down to his cock, the outline now clearly visible through the thin fabric. Curiously you cupped his length with your hand, running it along the shaft. Like this you could feel how hot and heavy it must be. He wasn’t small and you would lie when you would say that it didn’t excite you to see how he had gotten like this just because of you.

“Take it out,” Seungcheol’s breathy voice broke you from your thoughts. His big hands had crept below your shirt and settled on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into your flesh. Shyly, you nodded and slowly hooked your fingers into the elastic of his underwear, gradually revealing inch after inch of skin until his length sprung free and slapped wetly against his stomach, the bulbous head glistening under the neon lights. For a couple of moments none of you said anything, while Seungcheol was studying your face. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hard length where it rested heavy against his abdomen.

“Don’t be shy now, I’ll tell you how to touch me,” your boyfriend promised, bringing one of your hands up to his lips, licking a broad stripe up your palm. “Makes the glide easier,” he explained before guiding it back down until it was just hovering over his hard cock. “Wrap it around me, baby,” he instructed. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your hand around his thick length, feeling it twitch under your soft touch. Your fingers could barely touch and the smooth skin felt so hot and heavy against your palm, unlike anything you had ever felt before. When Seungcheol stayed quiet, his eyes glued to your hand around his dick, you slowly started to move it up and down, feeling the prominent vein on the underside against your fingers. “Twist your wrist a little when you go up,” he guided and you eagerly complied, earning you a deep groan. “And grab it a little tighter, I can take it.” When you followed his instructions enthusiastically, a soft moan fell from his parted lips. “You’re doing so well baby, making me feel so good.”

More and more precum began to leak from his tip and after he advised you to gather the sticky liquid as well, the glide on his cock became even easier and you could move your hand even faster on him, causing more and more moans spilling from him, his hips bucking up into the tight circle of your fist. “Fuck baby,” he cursed when you experimentally squeezed your hands just below the head, admiring how it made more precum leak. The sight suddenly gave you the urge to taste it. Slowly you took the index finger of your other hand and gently traced the slit of his cock with it, gathering some of the fluid before pushing it between your lips, tasting the salty liquid. Seungcheol had watched you with wide eyes, a guttural groan escaping him when your pink lips closed around your finger to suck it clean. “You’re going to kill me, don’t look so innocent while sucking on your finger like that. Makes me imagine what your lips would look like stretched wide around my cock,” he breathed through his parted lips, his head thrown back against the couch, but his eyes never leaving yours.

An involuntary moan bubbled from your throat at his words. “You wanna try that baby? Want to know what my cock feels like on your tongue?” He asked, pushing his own thumb between your lips when you had released your finger with a wet pop. Another groan left his chest when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on it before swirling your tongue around it. “I think you’re made for this baby, please blow me.”

Nodding hazily you shifted around until you were seated between his strong thighs, one of your hands still pumping his cock while the other one was nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Mesmerized you watched the flush tip moving between your fingers. Leaning in you pressed an open mouthed kiss to the head, not really knowing what would make Seungcheol feel good. “Just be mindful of your teeth,” he reminded you, gathering your hair up in his hand, so it wouldn’t hang in your face, holding it loosely. “Take your time.”

Taking a deep breath, you held his cock steady at the base, sticking your tongue out to trace the vein on the underside. It didn’t taste bad like you had worried it would, it just tasted like skin, a little salty maybe. But not terribly unpleasant. When you reached the head, you kitten licked at it shyly, the salty taste intensifying slightly. “Fuck, you look so good sitting there between my legs,” your boyfriend groaned, his dark eyes fixed on your pink tongue that you swirled around his head, teasing the sensitive underside of the head which earned you a deep groan. “Close your lips around it, baby. Wanna see them stretched out.”

Taking another deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart, you parted your lips and took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking slightly. The drawn out curse that left Seungcheol’s lips made you feel proud, you wanted to hear more of those melodious sounds. Eagerly you altered between sucking on the head and swirling your tongue around it, careful to not let your teeth touch the sensitive flesh.

“Can you take more, baby? Try bobbing your head,” he breathed, gently adding pressure to the back of your head, coaxing you to take more of him. “Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good,” he groaned when you gently started to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time. “Hollow your cheeks when you go up. Yes. Just like that, your mouth feels so good and hot around me. Fuck. You’re such a fast learner baby. Keep stroking what you can’t fit.”

With the added saliva you could move your hand almost without any resistance, you hadn’t even noticed how much you had drooled on him, your lipstick smeared around your lips in the most obscene way, and your lips glossy from spit and precum when you came up to take a few deep breaths, looking up at Seungcheol to look for confirmation whether you were doing good or not. The look he had in his eyes said more than any words ever could: His lower lip was red and swollen from how hard he must have bitten down on it and his eyes were hazy, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

When you wanted to swallow him down again, a little overeager for more of the gorgeous deep moans he was letting out, you felt the head hit the back of your throat, causing you to cough violently. “Careful baby,” your boyfriend cooed, gently wiping away the tears that had escaped your eyes, “You’re doing great, no need to choke on me.” Nodding, you slowly eased him back into your hot mouth, gradually building up a steady rhythm again.

“Fuck baby I’m close,” he cursed after a while when your jaw started to ache a little. But you wanted to make him feel good. Eagerly you bobbed your head faster, paying a little more attention to the head, sucking on it like it was the most delicious popsicle you had ever tasted. “Baby, look up.” When you met Seungcheol’s dark eyes, his gaze heavy and eyes hooded, his face flushed, a moan tore from your throat, the vibrations going straight to his cock. “Fuck, keep that up and I’m going to cum any second. You look so good. You like sucking my cock? Making me feel good?” You hummed in affirmation, making him moan loudly, throwing his head back into the back of the couch.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” he breathed, using the grip he had on your hair to pull you off of him, his big hand covering your smaller one on his cock. He quickly jerked himself a couple of times before a long drawn out moan of your name left his lips and he coated both of your hands with his release, his strong thighs shaking next to your head and his eyes screwed shut. You swore you had never found your boyfriend more beautiful than in this moment.

“Fuck, that was good,” he giggled, high on the feeling of his orgasm, letting his hands fall to the side, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Thank you for trusting me enough to do this with me,” he added, smiling lopsidedly.

“Of- Of course,” you stuttered, surprised by how wrecked your voice sounded. “I gotta clean this mess or I’ll get in trouble,” he giggled, pulling you back to your feet and onto the couch before he walked over to his desk in all his half naked glory, searching for some tissues. But before he could find anything to wipe the cum off, you curiously looked at your own hand that was covered in his release, slowly licking the salty liquid off.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he cursed when your eyes met again.

#seventeen #s.coups #choi seungcheol #seventeen smut #s.coups smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #s.coups imagine #seungcheol imagine #seventeen scenario #s.coups scenario #seungcheol scenario #reader x s.coups #seungcheol x reader #svt smut #svt imagines

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miraculousandbts · 3 years

Text

BTS | AMAs

P.S. The story is in y/n's perspective. Just because I wanted to.

Summary: You get your first big nomination, but you just had to stumble into a very handsome stranger.

Pairing: OT7 X Reader (Platonic)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: Reader’s train of thought goes crazy every once in a while. I feel like this should be a warning.

I was hugging my manager and jumping in circles with her, as a way of expressing my happiness. Ashley was not only my manager, but also one of my closest friends, always supporting me and believing in me since the start. Both of us were ecstatic with the news, and this was our way of showing it. Aside from jumping, we both were also screaming very loudly. I had never been so thankful for having a house near the forest area without neighbours.

Oh, wait! I never introduced myself; how rude of me. (Yes, I was thinking about the Thea Stilton books...) I'm y/n, a singer and songwriter. I live in LA. Me and Ash were just watching the American Music Awards nominations, and we just couldn't control our excitement when they took my name. This was my first nomination for an award. It wouldn't be that big of a deal for an experienced artist or someone who has been in the industry for long, but I'm still a rookie, debuting only two years ago.

Me and Ashley finally calmed down when a very startled guard came in and told us that we screamed so loud that he saw bats fly away from deep inside the forest. We sheepishly apologised, and decided to go to sleep. I had been recording a song the whole day, while she had been busy with manager duties, so we both were exhausted. I had actually known her for the last four years, and she often stayed over. So often, in fact, that my guest room had become 'Ashley's Room' very quickly.

After bidding each other happy good nights, we both went to bed in our respective rooms, falling asleep speedily.

*****

Taylor was applying my makeup, while I sat in the stiff makeup chair. This had been going on for the past hour, despite me telling her that I wanted light makeup and a simple dress. Instead, she and my stylist Ben decided to go against my wishes for once. Ben had prepared an extravagant dress too fancy even for a royal ball, and I was thankful it wasn't pink or blue or yellow; I absolutely did not want to look like a princess, that just wouldn't be me. Taylor kept on applying a little too much makeup on my face for my liking. She was very talented, so at least I was sure I wouldn't look bad.

Right now, she was working on my eye makeup, expertly putting on eyeliner and...something. I'm not good with this stuff. Taylor's assistant, whose name I always forgot, was painting my nails. I looked at her working. She was a pro at this. She smoothly glided the brush over my nails, effortlessly painting them purple, and then decorating them. She used as less materials as possible, knowing I hated it when even my nails felt heavy; my face was enough.

After two more hours of torture, I was finally ready. I looked breathtaking, but if I had an option, I would still go with something lighter. After another hour of sitting in the limo, we were finally there.

I got out, and there were cameras in my face. All I saw were purple blotches, because the camera men couldn't use their brains enough to shut off the flash. Or maybe those cameras didn't have an option to shut off the flash.

Anyway, I struck a few poses, blew some kisses, and walked ahead. And then I saw Dan. He was a reporter for such gigs, and I often did short interviews with him. He wasn't like the others; he didn't ask about rumours or made new ones, he didn't ask controversial questions to increase their channel's TRP.

I gave him a grin and walked towards him.

"Hey, Dan."

"Y/n! Looking beautiful as always."

"Oh, you flatter me." I kept a hand on my chest.

"Okay, stop with the over dramatics, girlie." You grinned.

He motioned his cameraman to start recording. I tuned out the whole introduction, and focused when he asked me a question, the said question being how was I feeling about being here even though it hadn't been long since my debut. "It's all thanks to my fans. I love making music, and I believe that if you do something with true passion, you will be successful. I guess this is destiny's way of showing me that what I'm doing is right. And not gonna lie, it feels like I've been feeling like I'm on a sugar rush since the nominees were announced, because of the adrenaline."

After some more questions and smiles, I finally went in.

I was too focused on not tripping on my own feet because of the long dress, so the first thing I did after entering was bump into someone. Great! I wasn't even surprised anymore, knowing how I was. "I am so sorry!" I looked up with wide eyes, only to meet kind brown ones. It took me a second to register that he wasn't alone, six other men behind him. They seemed familiar. I could tell they were from east Asia. I glanced at all of them, and then looked at him, apologising again.

"It is okay." He had a cute accent to his English, and I internally smiled, not only because of his accent, but also because he wasn't mad. I must've smiled in relief, because he looked amused. Now that I was looking at him properly, he was handsome, with a capital H. Little round face, pretty eyes, cute boop-able nose. And then he smiled. And then I died. It was the cutest smile I had ever seen!

Thankfully, I wasn't the kind of gal who would stand there checking him out. All of this took me a second, and I excused myself after thanking him.

*****

"Oh, hey!" I heard a smooth deep voice as soon as I sat down. I looked to my side and found one of the friends of the man I had bumped into earlier. I was right, my brain didn't forget. I smiled a small smile. "Hey."

Extending my hand towards him the old fashioned way, introduced myself. "Y/n."

He shook my hand, seemingly unfazed by my apparent childish behaviour. "Kim Namjoon, more commonly known as RM."

That's when it clicked. RM. K-Pop. BTS. My eyes must've widened; I was always terrible at hiding my emotions. "Everything okay?" He brought me out of my stupor. "Uh, yeah. Just, when I stumbled into one of you guys before, you all seemed familiar, I just couldn't place your faces anywhere." I replied honestly. "Oh." He simply leaned back into his chair and nodded.

"So, in which category are you nominated?" He continued.

"Top social artist. You?"

"Same. It'll be a four year streak for us if we win again."

"Ooh, really. Well then, I hope you win."

"Don't you want to win?"

"Coming here already feels like a dream. I don't think I can handle the adrenaline if I do win."

"So basically you want us to win for completely selfish purposes, huh?"

You both laughed at that remark, and continued making small talk for a while. Then he said he had to use the washroom. I hummed in his direction, and as soon as he got up, I saw the guy I had ran into in the chair next to his.

He had noticed Namjoon getting up too, so he was looking on my direction. He grinned at me, and sat in Namjoon's chair. "Hello."

"Hey."

"I am sorry. My English is not that good. Only Namjoon speaks English." He sheepishly rubbed his neck. "Why are you apologising for that?" I was genuinely curious. It was okay to not know perfect English. Even though I was a native English speaker, I still made mistakes. Everyone did. And the said language wasn't even his first language. "At the entrance, I wanted to talk."

"Oh. Well, You should have, I don't judge because of stuff like this." He smiled at that. "I will introduce you to them." He gestured to his band mates who were very engrossed in the show. Before he could do that, I interrupted him. "Hey, sorry. I haven't been in the industry for long, and I've only ever heard your guys' name, so...I only know RM and V? Is that right? So, yeah, I don't know your name."

I cursed at myself internally. Way, to go y/n! So damn awkward. He must've sensed my hesitation, because all he did was offer me his hand. Ooh, the old fashioned way. Good to know I wasn't the only one.

"Suga."

"Y/n." I shook his hand. Namjoon came back at that moment and him and Suga said something to each other in Korean. Wait, Suga? That does not sound right. Oh, right! It must be his stage name.

And then I facepalmed. Literally. I didn't think before my hand met my forehead. I must've made a pretty loud smack, because both of them were now looking at me like I was some weirdo. I sighed and slowly hid my face in my hands. "These kind of things always happen to me..." I mumbled.

I looked up when I heard them chuckling. I pouted, but I knew they could see the relief on my face that they didn't think of me like I was demented. "Don't worry, we've been living with these guys for the past eight years, these kind of things don't faze us anymore." Namjoon gestured to the other guys, who were still oblivious to their surroundings, absorbed in the performances.

I let out a breathy chuckle at the fact that they were so openly dissing their own friends. Namjoon, by now, was seated in the chair in which Suga was previously sitting in.

"So, I refuse to believe that Suga is your real name. And I would rather be literal friends with you guys, rather than two artists who just know each other."

"Yoongi. Min Yoongi." The way he said it reminded me of how Geronimo Stilton introduced himself. 'Why my brain has to go down completely random memory lanes is beyond me...and why am I thinking about a kid's book series?'

Within the next hour, I had been introduced to the other guys, and all of us were conversing about anything and everything. Seokjin was very happy that I was loving his dad jokes, Hoseok was a little too excited about my proposal of shooting a dance cover on one of mine or their songs, Jimin, Taehyung and me got along very well, as we were all the same age, and Jungkook had offered to teach me boxing, after I expressed my wish to learn it.

All in all, I was getting along very well with them. They were fun to be with, and it was absolutely adorable how they sometimes got flustered over their mistakes while talking. After the fun night ended, I congratulated them on their win, and went home, completely exhausted.

*****

"Noona!" Jungkook was the first to notice me. With wide eyes and a happy grin, he came to hug me. I had decided to surprise the boys by coming to Korea. Right now, I was standing in their dance studio. Even after four years, we were still going strong. It felt like now I had four elder brothers, two twins, and a kid. '...that was a terrible reference...god, please tell me what is wrong with me.'

Soon, all the boys came to hug me, though I tried running away to avoid their sweaty hugs, but Jungkook held me at one place, while I tried to squirm away. I should've just waited in their dorm.

"Kookie!" All I got in reply was a mischievous giggle. He really was a baby. Later that day, a collaboration between us was confirmed, and I couldn't have been happier.

Geronimo Stilton and Thea Stilton might be kids’ books, but they’re still the best!! Change my mind, I dare you.

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tessxblxckthorn · 3 years

Text

you’re more to me

@juulies and again: happy holidays love!! (2/2)

a short juke soulmate au cause meg wrote that she likes the trope so i thought why not... english isn’t my first language and I haven’t written in quite some time so please have mercy and enjoy!

It took her an entire day to realise. Julie could see colors. Actual, vibrant colors. Not the dull, grey-ish colors she had seen her entire life but the bright red of the painted dahlias on her bedroom walls, the vivid blue of the Los Angeles sky, the deep violet of the string that was still braided into her hair from yesterday's performance in the Orpheum.

It had all been so chaotic that Julie hadn't had a minute to breath and, well, realise that she had met her soulmate.

Her soulmate.

Of course she knew about soulmates and that, after finding yours and having direct skin contact with them, you could see every beautiful color that exists. But she also knew that many people never, ever found theirs. Sure, her parents had been soulmates, but they were lucky. Flynn's parents weren't soulmates, Carries definitely hadn't been.

While there were a lot of soulmate-couples, people just didn't want to get their hopes up just to never find theirs. So that's why, at the young age of 10, Flynn and Julie had stopped believing that they would eventually find their perfect match, simply because this wasn’t a perfect world.

And now, at age 16, Julie was laying in her bedroom on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how on earth she could’ve missed meeting her soulmate. Because that was what had happened, right? She must have bumped into them at the show or while running out on the street when she thought the guys had died...or stopped existing or whatever...or when she went home with her dad and Carlos or-

There was a loud bang coming from her closed door followed by a groan and a curse.

“Come in!”, Julie called out, sitting up and pushing her messy hair out of her face.

“Damn it”, Alex groaned and closed the door behind him. “Still haven't adjusted completely to being alive again, thought I could just materialize through the door.”

Julie laughed softly. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“Pretty sure your dad thinks we’re absolute weirdos now, Reggie just said good-bye in the kitchen and then jumped up before realising he couldn't poof out.”

Jup, that sounded like Reggie.

“Anyway, the boys and I wanted to drive back to the Orpheum, you wanna come?”

“Weren't you at the Orpheum this morning?”, Julie asked confused, while starting to fold her costume from yesterday's performance.

“True, but...Lukethinkshemethissoulmatethere”, Alex muttered under his breath, looking at the, suddenly so interesting, blanket that was thrown over Julie's bed.

Said girl froze up. Had she heard correctly? “Uhm Luke- he- what?”

Alex sighed and pushed his blond hair back, a habit he did a lot when he was anxious. “Ok, so- I mean- Luke- He- he can see colors now, like the kind of colors you can only see after you met your soulmate? And he can see the colors since this morning so he thinks he met them while we were back at the Orpheum to meet with Willie.”

“Oh…”, Julie said, dropping her hands that were still folding into her lap. No, it was stupid. Of course she hadn't thought or hoped her soulmate would be Luke. He was dead. Well, now he was alive again, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Luke Patterson couldn't be her soulmate. Eventhough, for some dumb, idiotic reason, her heart apparently had wished he was.

“Yeah…”, Alex agreed, awkwardly fingering at the blanket. He wasn’t dumb, in fact, he was probably the most observant of the three boys and it wasn’t difficult to identify the way Luke looked at Julie. Not only at the performances but all the time.

“Uhm- I- Flynn’s coming over so…”, Julie trailed off. “We’re having a girls night.” More like a “freaking-out-about-who-could-be-Julie’s-soulmate”-night or a “crying-over-the-fact-that-Luke’s-not-her-soulmate”- night. She hadn’t decided yet, but judging by the lump in her throat it seemed that the latter was more possible.

“Oh ok. Yeah, sure.”

Julie nodded slowly.

“Okayyyyy”, Alex scratched his neck. “Then I'm going to go now. With the boys. To the Orpheum.” She nodded again.

By the time he had closed her bedroom door again, after softly smiling at her with his annoyingly nice “I-know-what’s-going-on-and-you-can-always-talk-to-me-but-I-don’t-want-to-push-you”-look, Julie was fighting the tears.

The last two hours, after she realized that she could see colors, she had spent thinking about every person that could or couldn't be her soulmate. It couldn't be anyone she actually knew, because she had had direct skin contact with all of them at some point before yesterday. All of them except Luke, Reggie and Alex. Not Alex, because he’s gay and terribly in love with this Willie she had yet to meet. Not Reggie, because he was like a brother to her and he still couldn't see colors.

And not Luke, because he had met his soulmate this morning. And not last night like she apparently had, simply because she hadn’t left the house since then.

So it had to be some stranger, right? And still, everytime she thought about her soulmate, she thought about Luke’s piercing hazel eyes, his perfect smile and his soft brown hair and-

“Oh my god”, Flynn shouted, slamming the door shut behind her. “You can’t just text me that you met your soulmate without any details!”

Julie flinched and instantly shushed her. “Flynn! No one else knows! Shut up!”

“Oh Julie, I’m not stupid. Ray and Carlos went grocery shopping and the boys just passed me, saying they want to go to the Orpheum or something? Whatever, I need the details!”, Julie's best friend threw her bag beside Julie’s desk and jumped onto her bed.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Flynn laughed loudly and then looked back to Julie. She went quiet. “No”, she said. “No, no, cause I thought I just heard that you said you didn’t know who your soulmate is but I must have misunderstood.”

Julie sighed and layed back down next to Flynn. “You don't know? How can you not know? You met your soulmate, are able to see colors now and tell me you don't know who it was? How can you not know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Julie…”

“Seriously, Flynn. I don't know, okay? And it's horrible! I didn’t even realize I’m able to see colors now till this morning. I don’t remember suddenly being able to see colors after touching someone, okay? It was all so chaotic yesterday. The performance. The boys missing. Then I thought the boys were gone. Then they weren’t. Then they nearly died of those jolts in the garage. Then they were suddenly alive again. Then I had to explain to my dad why the hologram band from Sweden is in the garage. It was all messy and chaotic and I must have missed it.”

“Breathe, Julie.”

“I am breathing!”, Julie cried out, hiding her face in one of her pillows.

She felt Flynn soothingly patting her shoulder.

“So it isn't Luke?”, the girl said softly after a while. Julie choked and pushed down her tears. She shook her head, still buried in the pillow.

“But you thought he would be.” Julie went still and then shook her head again. “I guess I hoped it would be him.”

“Oh…”, Flynn mumbled and went back to rubbing her best friend's shoulder. While she had been against bonding with Luke and more one Team Nick, she knew that Julie had fallen for the ghost-boy. And, well, she’d mostly been against Luke because he was a ghost...which he wasn’t anymore.

“So did you tell the boys?”, Flynn asked hesitantly when Julie showed her face again and sat back against the headboard.

“Nope”, she croaked and cleared her throat. “I wanted to think and then tell the boys. But then they were busy trying to find Luke’s soulmate.”

Flynn opened her mouth and closed it again. “Wait so Luke met his soulmate too? When?”

“This morning at the Orpheum apparently”, Julie answered bitterly.

“This morning? Is he sure?”, Julie shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s what Alex said.”

“Ok, so you haven’t talked to him or, you know, touched him? I mean, what if he only realized this morning he could see colors? Touching him-”

“would either dull or brighten the colors.”, Julie finished, looking at Flynn wearily. “I forgot about that part to be honest.” Flynn was beaming. “But, Flynn, I really don’t want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed again, okay? And who knows, maybe Luke found his soulmate already.”

“Nuh-uh, you gotta be optimistic, okay? Everyone can see the way you two look at each other!” Julie frowned slightly. God, how she wanted to believe Luke could be her soulmate...she just didn't want her heart to be crushed when reality set in.

“Anyway, we gotta change that topic because we can’t do anything about it right now. But before we start the Netflix marathon we gotta go to the kitchen or I’ll starve.”

Julie laughed and rolled her eyes but followed her friend.

The two girls were in the middle of topping off their tortilla chips platter with cheese when the front door was opened.

“So, let me sup it up”, they heard Alex's confused voice. “You don't actually know you met your soulmate this morning, you just didn't realize before then that you could see colors? So you meeting and touching them also could’ve been yesterday. Which actually seems more plausible, if you think about-”, the blond boy stopped abruptly, Luke next to him, when he saw the girls sitting at the counter frozen up and...listening.

“But the only person you touched yesterday, other than us, is Julie so- ohhhh”, Reggie bumped into Luke and shut up when he saw their faces.

There was silence for about five seconds in which everyone in the room realized what Reggies statement meant before Flynn hopped from her chair. “Reggie, Alex, you have to help me pick out a movie upstairs. Now.”

And Julie and Luke, still frozen up, were alone.

“So-”

“I-”, they started at the same time. Julie blushed. “You go first.”

Luke nodded awkwardly and walked towards her, sitting down on the chair opposite to her.

“I didn't realize it till today. I don’t know why i thought it might’ve been someone at the meeting with Willie today but I thought you couldn’t see colors and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, and-”, he was cute when he rambled, Julie thought, but stopped him from any more talking by reaching out and taking his hand that was on the counter in front of her. Every color in the room seemed to get even brighter momentarily and Julie gaped. Luke did too.

“So, that was fool-proof.” Luke laughed lightly and slowly took her hand in his. Julie couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“I didn’t realize it till this morning either. And i wanted to think first but then Alex told me you had met your soulmate this morning but i had to have met my soulmate yesterday so I thought- wait, did you just say you didn’t want to get your hopes up?”

Luke grinned but blushed. “I kinda thought it was obvious, you know, that you mean a lot to me.”

Julie’s heart seemed to beat faster and she squeezed his hand. “Well, apparently everyone but me realized it but...it’s mutual, Luke.”

The boy smiled widely and pressed a shy kiss to their joined hands. “Good to know.”

Julie swore she never smiled that hard ever before.

#netflix #jatp #jatpdaily #secret santa #julie and the phantoms #Julie and Luke #jatp julie #juke imagine #luke patterson #luke jatp #julie molina

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otonymous · 4 years

Text

Afterglow (Jackson Wang - NSFW)

Description: Breakups lead to make-ups...and make-up sex in an alleyway Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings: public sex, angst, breakups Word Count: 2748 words (~ 14 mins of smut, angst and fluff-lite™️) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: This story is a BIG milestone for me, because it's the first time I've written about a man who exists outside the two-dimensional plane 😆 The thirst was undeniable ever since I saw Jackson’s Bottle Cap Challenge video, then he dropped the fly Kinjaz dance moves in his Titanic MV, and this story has been slowly brewing ever since.

I found it challenging to write about a living human being, and I strove to be as respectful as possible in the process of crafting this story. That being said, happy reading and hope you all enjoy it! 🥰

Disclaimer: This is purely an exercise in creativity. Unfortunate though it is, I do not know Jackson Wang in real life lol

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“What do you know about me?”

The slight tremble in his voice. A hint of panic.

You squinted as the headlights of a passing car caught the diamonds in his wristwatch, dazzling and disorienting in the dark as light reflected in your vision, and then…over as soon as it began. The magic of the moment so terribly brief.

And as neon street signs threw electric shadows in the alleyway where you found yourself unable to look Jackson in the eye, the heat of a Hong Kong summer had never felt more oppressive.

Brown eyes no longer crinkled at their corners as they so often did before the cameras, their depths set instead on scrutinizing your features, looking for cracks in the wall you swore would never fall.

Because falling for him never should have been an option.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, right? That I’m just another pretty face looking to play around?”

English bleeds seamlessly into Cantonese, Jackson’s voice rising in the deserted corridor where he had chased after you when you left him at the food stall on the corner — the place where you finally mustered up the courage to drive the blade into your heart even as you broke his with a single word:

“Goodbye.”

He hadn’t even finished his lo mein.

“Keep your voice down, Jackson. You don’t want to attract attention—”

“DON’T TREAT ME LIKE A CHILD!”

The desperate echo of his outburst left him feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. Eyes following your gaze as it dropped to the ground, Jackson Wang had never felt so small.

The sound of his breath fills your ears, shaky and shallow and accompanied by the drip of an air conditioner nearby — pace steady like a clock to mark the passage of time the two of you no longer had.

He covered his face, tapered fingers dragging from forehead to chin as his throat bobbed, choking on all the words he couldn’t afford to say aloud.

Because in that moment, Jackson hated it all — everything he had ever worked for. The recognition. The fame. Schedules packed with recording, shoots and interviews that it wasn’t until the car ride home that he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the sun.

And in the mire of those lost days, he despised himself. Hated the way he wished your time would stop too, just so he could share in every missed moment:

Your breath on his skin as you blew out the candles on a cake, warmth gentle like extinguished flame.

The laughter that shook your body till you doubled over, the most beautiful music to his ears.

Tears that rolled down your cheeks to reflect silver moonlight, stealing in through half-drawn curtains while the world outside slept.

Jackson Wang wanted it all. Selfish though it was, he couldn't help it. Because all he ever wanted was to give you everything. But now, in the tremble of capable hands, he felt you slip through his fingers like grains of sand, scattered by the winds of a fate he was powerless against.

Powerless. Hadn’t he sworn he would never allow himself to feel this way again?

His hands curl into tight fists.

“Jackson, we…we just…don’t belong together.” The words felt foreign on your tongue. Faint, as if you yourself didn’t care to hear them.

“You and I both know full well that’s bullshit,” he scoffs, pulling off his black cap to run a hand through hair dyed chestnut brown.

And you remember.

Remembered the way he did the same in a flustered apology when he first bumped into you that fated day, eyes wide to see your skewer of curried fish balls drop to roll away on the sloped pavement.

Remembered being simultaneously fascinated and frightened by a smile as bright as the sun. And suddenly, the way he artlessly thrust an egg tart into your hand in exchange for your lost snack made you shy.

Recalled the silk of his hair, wound between your fingers as they anchored to tug and pull with every movement of his body within yours, each wave of ecstasy overwhelming and absolute.

And suddenly, you are nauseous at the thought of never again hearing him whisper your name -- deep voice laced with fatigue on the other end of the line, or husky with lust as he trailed kisses down your neck. But you swallow hard and sweep the thoughts away, preparing to twist the knife in a bid to be kind.

“All the things I want, Jackson…you cannot give me."

Liar.

The words wooden in your ear, you wondered if Jackson, too, picked up on the charade. But the quiet shudder that leaves his lips tells you otherwise. Strangely detached, as if your consciousness had transcended your body to hover over the scene of a crime, you continue, eyes on the ground as you pantomimed the lies rehearsed since the day you decided to let the love of your life go.

“I want someone whose hand I can hold in public without it becoming front page news. Someone who can be there, who doesn’t need to hop on a plane when I need him to just…hold me. Texting and FaceTime, it’s not enough for me anymore. Being with you, Jackson, it’s…too hard…”

Hypnotized by the rise and fall of his chest, you trail off as he steps closer, the yellow Batman logo on his black tee looking more faded than the last time you saw him in it — one month and three days ago. The last time he came home. The last time he was close enough to touch.

The first time you really saw what was happening to Jackson Wang.

For the truth lay in the violet circles beneath gentle eyes, in the tired rasp of his voice. All those times he fought exhaustion to hear you tell him about your day at the end of his. The way he’d apologize profusely for falling asleep mid-conversation the morning after while drinking that awful chicken breast shake he still couldn’t quite get used to. The red-eye flights taken to surprise you on a whim. The guilt you knew he still carried for missing kisses under mistletoes and summers spent on tour.

“Time. Just give me a bit more time and I’ll give you everything. Please. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Jackson’s voice is quiet. Pleading. You would’ve given him the world had he wanted it, but it still wouldn’t change the fact that your lives never should have crossed. Jackson burned bright, a shooting star meant to blaze new trails. And exhilarating thought it was to have momentarily basked in the warmth of his fire, you knew he couldn’t afford to be weighed down by anything — or anyone — in the pursuit of his dreams.

Love shouldn’t be a burden.

So you remain silent, sorrow heavy on your tongue as you fight the sting in your eyes that threatens to give you away.

“Look at me?”

Jackson’s breath, warm and soft at the crown of your head, sets your pulse on fire. And on reflex, your trembling hand flies to your chest, fingering the delicate chain of the necklace he himself had put on you so many months ago until you remembered that this, too, was to be returned.

Voice thick with emotion, Jackson whispers again: “Please, look at me.”

And when those large hands cradle your jaw to gently tilt, the angles of his handsome face finally come into view, blurred through tears spilling past lashes as your traitorous body revolts — every nerve, every inch of skin screaming out for the touch of his lips.

Those lips.

Plush pink and soft satin, how often had they pressed against yours, hot and insistent to leave you breathless in the ardour of his kiss? Even now, with your lies breaking your heart and his, they moved to caress the apples of your cheeks, infinitely tender as he tasted the salt of every bitter tear shed.

“I love you. Please…please, don’t go.”

Confession laid at the corner of your lips, his hands wrap around your waist to pull you flush against his body, Jackson willing his embrace to express the depths of his sincerity in a rare moment where he found himself speechless.

And there, melting into the searing heat of his chest against yours, you curse your lack of resolve as it crumbles — the cracks in the wall you said would never fall deepening with every sweep of his tongue along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. Begging for your reconsideration.

So you relent, and the ecstatic shudder that shakes him to taste your mouth at last makes you weak. But before you can drop, the arms around you tighten — strong and supportive like Jackson himself, constant even as his kiss deepened, greedy for more, more, more.

For when it came to you, Jackson was insatiable.

“This is yours,” he says, breathless when he finally pulls away, lips kiss-swollen and cheeks pink under fluorescent blue lights, his hand covering yours to pull it beneath his shirt, wandering the crests and dips of that defined torso and crossing the broad smoothness of his chest until finally coming to rest above his heart, beating steady just left of centre.

“No matter what happens, this will always belong to you. Always. Me and you…together…we’ll figure something out. We can make it work. So don’t give up on us, because I’ll never give up on you. Okay?”

In the gravity of those big brown eyes, shining with determination and sharp with intent, you couldn’t help but concede, nodding as a wide smile transformed his face and you were once again bathed in light, heart warmed in the afterglow of his indomitable spirit even as your “Yes” is swallowed up by another kiss, hungrier than the last.

And suddenly, you are ravenous for the man, yielding to the honesty of your body as your tongue slides past open lips to explore that talented mouth, fingers gripping the muscles beneath his shirt — hard lines and solid planes all at once new and familiar and so exciting.

Exciting, like the way Jackson loved to take you - wherever and whenever desire struck, desperate to make the most of whatever time the two of you had together. And when you felt the wall, cool and solid behind your back, the grind of his sturdy thigh between your legs left no question as to what you were in for.

So after a cursory glance down the alleyway confirmed you were still alone, Jackson trains that burning gaze onto you, lids heavy with lust as his eyes study yours before dropping to your mouth, and then…slowly…down to your chest, entranced to watch it heave beneath your top. And when he sees the diamond pendant he chose for you adorning the skin above the swell of your breasts, his tongue sweeps out to wet that lower lip before it disappears behind the bite of perfect teeth.

Hands drag down your waist and hips, patiently tracing your curves even as the mouth on your neck burned kisses into skin — lips and teeth and tongue fervent as Jackson sought to mark you as his own for the world to see.

And when those long, tapered fingers linger at your knee to draw slow circles before wandering past the hem of your skirt, he angles his beautiful face, the register of his voice deep and low when he whispers in your ear, “Do you think of me when you wear that necklace?”

You nod, finding it altogether too difficult to speak with the way his hand caressed your thighs, fingertips following a gradient of heat as they moved along sensitive skin, inching closer and closer to silk that grew increasingly moist with each press of his muscular leg against your pussy.

“Good girl,” Jackson says as he sucks your lobe into his mouth - hot and wet — and you are further rewarded with a low hiss of pleasure when you reach to palm his cock through his pants, already impossibly hard and intimidatingly large. The thought of him in you, sliding slick and thrusting fast to stretch you to the limits of your capacity, sent another surge of moisture to your core, Jackson smiling to feel the intensity of your response through drenched fabric.

“I think of you too…”

Your man continues, hand tracing the outline of your slit.

“…Wearing my necklace…”

Thumb hooks silk aside.

“…While touching yourself.”

You gasp. Finally, fingers on bare skin. Index and middle dragging from end to end to gather your arousal before skirting slick circles about your clit. And when you feel two fingers, then three, penetrate to curl and press in torturous repetition, your head falls back as your legs shake, inviting the kiss of his lips on the notch of your neck.

Eyes blown wide with desire lock on your own as Jackson finally pulls his hand away — shiny with arousal even in the dimly lit passageway. And as he brings it up to his face and yours in some obscene exhibition, your core twitches again to see him taste you, pink tongue running the length of each digit to catch every last drop before those lips wrap around his ring, sucking the remnants of your juices from a bed of diamonds.

“Delicious. You always taste so sweet. But right now - "

Your hands leave the bulge of his erection to unbutton his pants, trembling slightly in haste and excitement when you pull down his fly. And when you finally release that cock — hot and hard — the movement of your fingers pumping slowly along its length steals the words from Jackson’s mouth.

So you speak on both your behalves when you say,

“I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Breath hitching in his throat at your command, the feral spark in Jackson's eye makes you bite your lip before it is promptly sucked into his mouth, your boyfriend kissing you deeply to silence every scream for discretion’s sake, the way he liked to do when fucking in public.

So you throw your arms around his neck, moaning against his lips as Jackson effortlessly lifts to slowly lower you onto his cock…stretching deeper and deeper until you swear you feel him at the pit of your stomach. And when he begins to thrust in earnest — biceps bulging as he wraps your legs about his waist to dive hard and fast — the wet sounds of flesh hitting flesh add to the electric hum in the darkness.

Beads of sweat rolling from forehead to chin drip from Jackson's face to the skin of your chest, tracing between the swell of your breasts in the humid night to add to the primal urgency in the swing of his hips. And when he shifts to hit that spot — smiling, as if proving that he had the totality of your body mapped in his mind — you lose your senses in yet another consuming release, convulsing in his arms until his own is drawn out, depositing hot and deep within you.

And when you finally descend from the clouds, the frantic rhythm in your chest slowing in time to his…you believe. Believe in the honesty of your bodies and the attachment in your hearts. Believe in Jackson’s words when he says that together, love will always find a way.

So you bask in the afterglow of Jackson's affection...warm, bright and magical like the man himself.

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Thanks so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#jackson wang #got7 #jackson wang smut #got7 smut #jackson wang fanfic #got7 fanfic #jackson wang scenarios #got7 scenarios #jackson wang imagines #got7 imagines #kpop smut #my writing

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years

Text

one day...

Hi! This is the beginning of the first fanfiction that I’m posting here! I hope people like it!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of anxiety/a panic attack. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,691

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CHAPTER ONE

Virgil Tempest is having a bad day.

First of all, he’d woken up late. 30 minutes late, to be exact. That left him only 10 to get ready for school, so he didn’t have time to put on his foundation. Now, the feature he hated most about himself — his freckles — would be visible for all to see.

Secondly, his favorite hoodie was in the wash, so he had to wear his old, plain black one that he hadn’t worn since at least seventh grade. It was buried in the way back of his closet, wedged between a leather jacket he’d completely forgotten he owned and the suit he had only worn once, at a funeral for some distantly related family member.

Thirdly, he forgot his headphones at home in his rush, and so now he had to suffer the whole day, unable to block out the noise of his idiotic school. He thought he had a spare pair in his backpack, but when he looked once he got to school, there weren’t any in sight.

Earlier, he thought it couldn’t get any worse, but he is sure now that it was just building up to this.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Roman Princeford apologizes loudly from above him. To say Virgil dislikes Roman would be an understatement. Roman has a ridiculously pompous name and a personality to match. The star theater kid, popular king of the school, and friend to everyone. Well, everyone except for Virgil. Even Virgil’s only friend, Logan Wise, a class-A nerd, likes Roman.

Needless to say, Virgil doesn’t see Roman’s appeal. Maybe, if Roman could stand to be a whole lot less arrogant, say, every day, or if he stopped being so excessively extra, or if he just took the time to do something other than theater and bragging, he might be tolerable. The key word there being ‘might.’

“It’s fine,” Virgil mumbles from the floor, where he had landed after Roman knocked into him while Virgil was walking. Roman had been talking to his usual group of fans, taking up most of the hallway since pretty much everyone wanted to listen to him, and had thrown out an arm in one of his usual grand gestures and pushed Virgil right over. He’d landed on the floor, books strewn everywhere, being watched by the whole hallway. Of course, it’s more crowded than usual thanks to the tall tale Roman was describing that apparently no one could afford to miss out on. It didn’t help that Roman had decided to make a big deal out of it, either.

Wishing this terrible day could just end already, Virgil shifts to a crouch and begins to gather his books. To his utter dismay, Roman bends down to help him. Annoyed as he is, Virgil can’t get up the courage to tell the other boy to leave him alone. Even so, the work goes quicker with the other boy helping, and, as much as he would hate to ever admit it, Virgil appreciates it.

They both reach for the last book on the ground at the same time, and their hands knock into each other.

“S-Sorry,” Roman says, and Virgil thinks he hears a stutter in his voice. Roman Princeford, the theater prodigy who never messes up a line, stuttering? But when Virgil looks up at Roman, there’s a blush working its way across the other boy’s tan cheeks. Strange. This close, Virgil can see the bluish specks in the other boy’s green eyes.

Roman must feel Virgil’s eyes on him, because he looks back at him, handing him his last book. Dread settles in Virgil’s stomach as he realizes that Roman must be able to see his freckles. Just as he remembers, Roman’s eyes drop to the other’s nose, where the freckles are the most noticeable. Shit, Virgil curses.

Yanking the book away from Roman, Virgil turns away and stands up, and Roman soon follows suit. There’s a redness on both of their faces now, but on Virgil’s pale skin, it’s much more visible. How long was I staring at his eyes? He shakes his head, letting his dyed-purple bangs fall over his face.

Resituating his books in his arms and weaving his way through the people, he starts the walk to his next class, art.

“Have a nice day!” Roman calls from behind him. Virgil sighs and pulls up his hood, wishing now more than ever that he had his headphones.

“Whatever,” he mutters, but the whole next period, all he can think about is Roman Princeford’s bright green eyes, tan skin, and wavy blond hair.

I must be going crazy, he decides. I mean, I know I’m gay, but gay for Roman Princeford, of all people? I don’t know him at all, and from what I’ve heard — and experienced — he’s not someone I would ever get along with. There’s no way I could possibly have a crush on him.

Right?

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At lunch, Virgil drops down in the seat next to Logan with a thud.

“Greetings,” Logan states professionally. “Am I misperceiving your body language and demeanor or was your day thus far below average in terms of relative happiness and unpleasantly abnormal?” Virgil looks at him around his bangs, puzzled.

“What?” Is he even speaking English? Virgil wonders.

“Pardon me, I forget that you are intellectually compromised when it comes to my copious vocabulary. Let me rephrase,” Logan proclaims. He clears his throat and lays his hands on the table, his fingers pressed together to form triangle-like shapes. “Did your day suck or are you just being your—” Logan waves a hand at Virgil’s body— “regular grumpy asshole self?”

Virgil is taken aback for a second before he rolls his eyes.

“Roman fucking Princeford bumped into me in the hallway, and then had the nerve to say, ‘Have a nice day!’ afterwards in that disgustingly cheery voice of his!” Virgil complains, poking at his food. He doesn’t really intend on eating any of it; the school’s food is terrible, and besides, he isn’t too hungry anyway. He has some crackers in his bag if he really needs something to eat later.

“I do not understand why you antagonize him so often, but I suppose if you refuse to change your opinions of him, there isn’t much I can do on the matter.” Logan pauses, and Virgil has a feeling he knows what’s coming next: one of Logan’s rare discussions of emotions. “But you shouldn’t just assume that everyone is out to hurt you, Virgil.”

Yup, there it is. Virgil likes Logan’s company because he isn’t too tied up in his emotions, unlike Virgil. He knows the facts, and that’s relieving when Virgil is in the midst of a period of overwhelming anxiety. But sometimes, Logan thinks he knows what’s best for Virgil, especially when it comes to matters concerning Roman Princeford.

Scoffing, Virgil crosses his arms and leans against the back of the chair. “Whatever,” he sighs.

Logan takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his temper, which has a habit of getting out of control, and responds, “Virgil, this is unhealthy. You have—” But before Virgil can find out what Logan thinks he has to do, another voice cuts Logan off.

“Heya, guys! How are you?” Virgil looks up to see a shorter student standing there. This new kid’s hair is a mess of amber curls, tumbling over his forehead and slipping behind his round, wire rimmed glasses. Tan skin covered in freckles and a round face gives him a youthful look, but Virgil knows that he’s a junior just like him.

His name is Patton Hart, and Virgil, surprisingly, doesn’t hate him.

Patton is known for being one of the kindest people in the school. No matter who it is, Patton will find a way to cheer someone up. Back in December of their freshman year, Patton helped Virgil calm down during a panic attack around finals. Virgil harbors no ill will towards the kid, but it’s still strange that he’d show up at their table randomly.

Then, Virgil remembers that Patton’s best friend is the one and only Roman Princeford.

Roman probably sent Patton to tell me something. Damn, I hate that stuck up asshole. Before Virgil can open his mouth to ask Patton what he wants with them, since Logan and him are the only ones anywhere near, Logan talks first.

“Hi, Patton!” His voice is so upbeat and joy-filled that Virgil has to look over at Logan to make sure he did, indeed, speak. In the seat next to him, Logan’s face is lit up with a smile, and he looks so…well, not-Logan. And, wait, is that a blush on Logan’s cheeks?

Virgil raises his eyebrows in shock and blinks a few times to make sure what he’s seeing is real. When nothing changes when he opens his eyes, Virgil ignores the strangeness of whatever’s happening next to him and looks back at Patton.

“Hey, Patton,” he greets. “What do you need?” He tries to keep his voice annoyance-free, so not to hurt the other kid’s feelings. Patton’s a little puffball of innocence and positive energy, and the whole school has made an unspoken agreement to keep it that way.

“Oh, I just came over to talk to Logan about our science project!”

“We were paired together as lab partners today,” Logan explains, still with that wide smile on his face.

Weirded out by the scene unfolding in front of him, Virgil pokes at his food one last time and decides he’s not so hungry to risk getting food poisoning.

“Alright, then,” he says, standing up, “I’ll leave you guys alone so you can talk about your nerdy physics stuff.”

“Actually, Virgil, it’s chemistry we’re taking,” Logan informs him, some semblance of his usual professional manner returning.

“Well, it’s still science, and it’s still nerdy, so my point stands.”

Patton giggles, and Logan seems to blush, but at this point, Virgil doesn’t trust his own eyes.

“Well, goodbye, kiddo!” Patton exclaims, waving. Virgil laughs at Patton’s use of ‘kiddo’ even though they're in the same grade and waves back. Telling Logan that he’ll see him later, he turns and dumps his try, finally exiting the noise of the cafeteria.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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the-avengers-ate-my-tongue · 4 years

Text

Prae Dolore

Summary: As Will returns home to Y/n after being almost guttered to death by Hannibal Lecter, he finds out that some things are not overcame so easily.

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: angst, mental and eating disorders, suffering

Word count: 1726

A/N: Yes, I am still obsessed with Will Graham. Is that a surprise? Anyways, I wrote a oneshot where the s/o was tough and was eager to fight Hannibal if he ever came after her (I'll Be Ready), so I thought about writing as well a oneshot where the s/o wouldn't get over the events so quickly and would struggle very hard. That's pretty much it, hope you enjoy. Friendly reminder that English is not my first language, so… You know the drill.

Will drove fast. He wanted to get to Wolf Trap as soon as possible. He was deeply worried about Y/n, it's been a month since she last visited him at the hospital after the events of that night he hated remembering about. He blinked hard, picking up his phone eagerly, typing Jack Crawford's number. He'd spoken with Alana earlier, she was a close friend of Y/n, and she was also concerned with the lack of communication. She went by Will's house the day before, knocked, but no one answered. The dogs barked a lot, her car was there, but Y/n never showed up. Alana said the curtains were shut, the doors were locked and she heard some noise inside, but since she was still recovering herself and using a wheelchair to move around, that was all she could do at the moment. Y/n wasn't answering her phone, as well. The last person who'd seen her was Jack, and even so, it had been almost a month ago as well.

He tried calling her phone, calling his house. He left thousands of messages she'd never replied. Will was desperate. All he could think about was Hannibal, if Hannibal got her… He could do that now, he knew that. So, as soon as he felt a little better, he checked himself out of the hospital and rented a car, driving as fast as he could to Wolf Trap.

"Will." Jack finally answered the phone, making Will sigh hard. "You shouldn't be driving. Are you there yet?"

"No. I'm close. Did she answer any of your messages?" Will asked with concern in his voice, feeling his forehead starting to sweat. "Alana stopped by yesterday, but she didn't come out. She's there, I know it. What I fear is…"

Will couldn't even put it into words, but Jack knew what he meant. The feeling of expectation. Hannibal had become a ghost in their lives, an imminent threat. He was close, now. Almost arriving. Everything would be alright. He had the key, he could open the door. He'd find her. She would be just fine.

"Call me when you get there, okay? I'll be waiting." Jack hesitated as if he seemed to wish Will good luck, but he just hung out, and Will threw the phone on the passenger's seat. He was close. Almost there.

Finally, after a few minutes, he parked the car in front of his house. Alana was right; Y/n's car was really there. A feeling of unease twisted Will's stomach and, for a moment, he felt a sharp pain on his guts, right where Hannibal stabbed him. He growled lightly, pressing the almost healed wound as he walked in quick steps to the door. He took the keys outta his pocket, hesitating before he could open it. Would he be ready for what he was going to find? Please, don't allow it to be a corpse. Not her. He wouldn't bear to lose anybody else.

He turned the key in the lock, pushing the door, but it stopped harshly half way through, showing more locks were added from inside. Door chains. That made him worry a little bit more.

"Y/n? It's me" He called, trying to squeeze his hand through the small space left. "Please, open. I'm worried about you. I need to see you."

The dogs were barking like crazy, and he hoped she could hear him. He waited a few seconds that felt like hours, until he could see an indistinguishable figure inside. The house was dark due the closed curtains. He felt a shiver go down his spine. Something was off. Terribly off.

"Y/n?" He called one more time. The figure seemed to move. "It's okay, it's Will. Open up."

Will tried to force the door, but it was hopeless. It only made his wound sting a little. He muttered a curse under his breath, his face contorted with the pain.

Noise. She unlocked the door. Will, taken by surprise, hesitated to enter, and by the time he could open the door, the dark figure fled to his bedroom. He petted the dogs to try to make them calm down. Despite of the nervousness, they seemed physically fine, which gave Will hope. The Y/n he knew would never let the dogs get neglected. He walked cautiously to the bedroom, finally being able to spot the figure. He still couldn't see her straight, but could distinguish her hair, her body.

"Y/n?" Will called in a soft voice. He didn't want to fright her more, she looked like a cornered feral animal.

He raised his hand to flip the switch of the bedside lamp so he could see her better. As soon as the light showed him her conditions, however, he wished he didn't.

The first thing he noticed was how skinny she was. Several bones were appearing in her fragile body. Her eyes were very wide, as if they had been like this for some time, and looked very dry. A lot of white hair filled the top of her head, as if fear made them turn that way. Her hair was a mess, dirty, like she'd spent some days without brushing it. She looked so fragile. So broken. That made Will's heart break, his eyes watering up. He couldn't avoid to think it was partially his fault. He dragged her to his world. It was his responsibility.

"Y/n… what's going on?" He tried to come closer, but she receded, almost hitting her back on the wall. Will stopped, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. He couldn't bear it.

"Please don't touch me. I don't feel well when people touch me." She nearly begged, a frightened voice tone. "Did you lock the door? Did you? We have to lock the door. If we don't lock the door…"

She held her body to feel instinctively protected, hugging her knees and hiding her face on them. Will was devastated. He tried to see the Y/n he knew on that broken figure, but he found no traces of her. Will hid his face on his hands, trying not to cry. He had to be strong. Strong for both of them.

Something that sounded like a branch hitting the top of the roof made her raise her head abruptly, her eyes so wide, her pupils dilated.

"What was that? That's him? That's him!" She moved so fast Will couldn't stop her, and her body slid under the bed, darkness engulfing her.

"Y/n." Will called, lying on the floor with his chest down. "It's not him. Hannibal's long gone. He won't come back."

He didn't know that, but he would say anything to make her feel better. Safe. He needed to bring her back.

Will held out his hand, not touching her, but being near her.

"I won't let him hurt you. I would never allow Hannibal to harm you. You need to know that. You need to trust me. I need you." He tried to come close to her, but his wound stung dangerously, and he moaned low in pain.

Y/n seemed to snap out of it as she saw him hurting. She sobbed a little, covering her mouth with one bony hand.

"You shouldn't be here yet, Will. You need to heal. You should be at the hospital." She hesitated, but touched his hand lightly. He kept still, afraid that any kind of movement would fright her away again. "There's no salvation waiting for me. My damage has reached the core. I'm a broken thing waiting to be discarded."

"We've been through a lot the past few months. I brought this to you. I allowed all of that to happen. I'm to blame. You're suffering, Y/n. You've been suffering for a long time. I should've seen that. Forgive me. Let me take care of you. We'll be fine. You'll be fine." She was sobbing freely now, her body trembling with the effort, but she was still touching his hand. He tried to stretch his body to fit under the bed with her, but a sharp pain made him stop. He could feel his shirt getting slightly wet. Shit.

"Stop! Please, stop. You're hurting yourself!" His face was filled with sweat, he breathed heavily. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional one. He felt like he was shattered in a million pieces.

Y/n left the space under the bed through the other side, rushing to Will and turning his body upwards. She lifted his shirt. The cut had barely opened, a few drops of blood staining the tissue and his abdomen.

"We were exactly like this. That night. I found you bleeding out, Abigail was standing right next to you, her eyes wide open. You were struggling to breathe. Before that, I had to leave Alana alone outside, not even being sure she would survive, because I had to see if… if you had gone. With him. But I don't know, maybe I wish you had, if it would mean you wouldn't be hurting like this." Somehow, he knew she didn't mean only physically, and not only because of that moment. She meant his darkness. His urge to go with Hannibal, even if it meant leaving her. It has never been out of the table. "I see his face every time I close my eyes. He came here a few days after that night when you were at the hospital. The way he spoke… he's out of his shell now. His words felt like daggers. He didn't do anything to me, he only meant to terrify me. And he succeeded. He got inside my head. He's still here. I can feel him like a parasite. Modifying my brain."

Y/n was speaking faster, starting to hold her head, and Will knew another panic attack was coming. He sat her on the bed, trying to touch her as gently as he could so he wouldn't make things worst for her. He held her tenderly, kissing the top of her head as she nested on his chest, holding his shirt while she cried, and cried. And Will cried with her, knowing the pain wouldn't go away as the tears that wet their faces and dropped on the floor, disappearing from sight.

#Hannibal #Will Graham #Mads Mikkelsen #Hugh Dancy #Will Graham x Reader #Will Graham Imagine #Will Graham Headcanon #Hannibal One-Shot #Hannibal headcanon #Alana Bloom #Jack Crawford

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 3 years

Text

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #14: in which Cameron and Joanie have some brunch

[CN: descriptions of food/prep]

When Joanie came home in April of 1998 for her annual spring trip back to the states, Cameron had just begun her ’sabbatical.’ For much of that year, Cameron was focused on finally, fully settling in at Donna’s house (along with Licorice, who was now almost a year old) and on resting before starting work on a new game, and had taken a sudden interest in homemaking, the histories of domestic and agricultural labor, and most shockingly to Joanie, getting up in the actual morning, and at the same time every day.

Once content to practically live in her pajamas when she wasn’t going anywhere, Cameron now got up at 9:30 on most weekdays, went downstairs and put on some coffee, made sure that the cat’s water and dry food bowls were full, and then went out to check on the garden and enjoy a few minutes of sunlight. After cereal and coffee, she would go back upstairs to do some morning journaling, which she’d been inspired to try after Donna added some collections by Mary Oliver and Emily Dickinson to their home library. Cameron didn’t think of herself as a very eloquent or even fluid writer, but she still hunkered down in the bedroom arm chair by the window and happily scribbled down notes on how she’d slept and if she’d any dreams, her plants and her on-going kitchen projects, recipes and restaurants she and Donna had tried, movies, tv shows, books, and articles she’d been looking at, Licorice’s favorite toys and treats, and conversations that she’d had with her growing circle of internet friends. And then she would shower, get dressed, and go back downstairs. Most mornings, Cameron was doing chores and searching for home and kitchen improvement projects she could do by 10:15.

Joanie, who had only witnessed any of this because she was jetlagged for the first few days she was back in California, had gone back to staying up till 3 am and sleeping until noon as soon as she was physically able to do so. When she did finally make it downstairs, Cameron was in the kitchen, radio on, her books and notepads and mugs cluttering the island. Joanie would pour herself a large bowl of whatever cereal Cameron had purchased that week, and enjoy it in front of the tv, leaving Cameron to do her work. It was lonely, and it felt a little like being with a stranger, now that Cameron was her mother’s live-in girlfriend, and Joanie was something of a prodigal daughter, and an expatriate.

Ten days into her visit, Joanie came downstairs and found Cameron sitting at the island with some coffee. There were no books, just a large bowl of freshly rinsed grapes, and a basket of towels that were still warm from the dryer. “Want some brunch?” Cameron offered.

“Sure,” Joanie said. “I mean, yes. That would be nice.”

Cameron smiled, got up, and went around the island, into the kitchen, and to the refrigerator. Joanie sat down, and Licorice, seemingly able to sense that food was about to be prepared, trotted over from the big window that looked out on the pool, and sprang up on to the stool next to Joanie’s. She sat up on her hind legs, and looked expectantly into the kitchen.

Joanie leaned over to her. “Come here often?” When Licorice didn’t respond, Joanie nodded, “You’re right, that’s a terrible and cliché line.”

Cameron set a mug of coffee and carton of creamer in front of Joanie, and pushed the bowl of grapes toward her, and then went back to the stove, where her favorite frying pan was warming up.

“So my mom has like, fully domesticated you, huh?” Joanie said, reaching for the mug and the creamer.

Cameron, who was beating their eggs, shrugged gently. “It’s nice to have a home after living out of a duffel bag for your entire adult life. It seems silly, at first, but then, you realize that it isn’t.” Setting down the bowl, Cameron said, “Tell you what: in a few years when you find something more permanent, after a few more years of bouncing back and forth between cities and hostels and capsule hotels, I’ll ask you how you feel about it?”

Sipping her coffee, Joanie agreed, “Deal.” She put down her mug, and timidly, asked Cameron, “Do you ever wonder what Tori Lowman might say if she could see you playing house for real, with my mom?”

Cameron shook her head as she whisked the eggs into her now warm pan. “You’re really never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

The warmth in Cameron’s voice reminded Joanie that she was home, even if Northern California wasn’t her home anymore. “Back in Dallas,” Joanie started, “my only real friend was this girl named Heather. I think that maybe she was my Tori Loman.”

The eggs were just starting to set, so Cameron turned down the heat, and used her favorite spatula to pull the egg mixture in, toward the center of the pan. Over her shoulder, she said, “…oh?”

Joanie sighed quietly, relieved by this endearingly momish response. “She was the only person at school that I really liked. She had long black hair, and she was a little taller than I was, and she was broader than I was too. We used to go down to this creek and ride our bikes after school. And I just, I wanted to do that every day. Like, for the rest of time.”

Cameron grinned as she laid some strips of bacon in the pan. “That sounds about right.”

“She used to take these dance classes,” Joanie continued. “I kind of hated dancing, but I wanted to sign up for her classes, until I realized that they were like, these special Native American dance classes? Her family was Apache, and they used to go to these special dance competitions and tribal events on the weekends. I wanted to go to one of them. I think if I’d asked my mom, she probably would have tried to work something out. But I never did, I was too scared?”

Still listening, and now thinking, Cameron pulled two plates out of the dishwasher. She spooned the eggs and bacon onto their plates, and then reached for the english muffin halves she’d toasted, and placed them carefully on the side. She picked up the plates, turned back to Joanie, and placed them down on the island. She rested her hands on the island, and then, shrewdly, said, “You were afraid that you’d have fun, and that your crush on her would get worse. Or harder to ignore?”

Joanie couldn’t believe what a relief it was to hear someone else say it, get it.

Licorice, front paws on the counter, strained to get nearer to the plates. “No, you already ate,” Cameron said. She grabbed a grape from the bowl and rolled it toward Licorice, who was transfixed. She batted it off the table, and jumped down to the floor to play with it. Crisis averted, Cameron grabbed some forks from the drawer, and then went around the island, handed Joanie a fork, and sat down next to her, taking Licorice’s seat.

Joanie picked up half of her english muffin and took a large bite out of it. She chewed thoughtfully, and then picked up her fork. She swallowed, and then said, “Heather seemed all well-behaved and agreeable, but she wasn’t really. She had a bb gun, and she would practice shooting at guns and bottles, and she wanted to learn archery, and how to throw knives. She liked Heart and Led Zeppelin, they were her dad and her mom’s favorite bands. She had older brothers, and she knew all these dirty jokes because of them and she would tell them and I would always laugh at them even though we didn’t really know what they meant? She also liked to steal her brothers’ clothes and wear them when we rode bikes. And she would make me race her even when I said I didn’t feel like it, and she would chase bullies, and she would be mean to them. Like, really mean. And she would curse them, like she would say she was putting an ‘Indian curse’ on them.” She paused to eat some of her food, which must have been getting cold, and then finally, she said, “I wish I’d tried to talk to her after we moved to California. I figured we’d never talk again, and I thought that maybe that would be better. I should’ve at least tried to be her pen pal though, or something.”

Cameron, who had finished most of her brunch while listening to Joanie, picked up her mug and drank some of her coffee. And then, she said, “Tori Loman had curly, frizzy black hair that she would say she didn’t like, but I never thought there was anything wrong with it. I liked it. She liked arts and crafts and coloring and making snacks with her mom. Her favorite snack was hot chocolate and cinnamon sugar toast. I wish I could be pen pals or something with her, too,” she said, before taking another sip of her coffee.

Joanie ate the last of her eggs and bacon, and then she said, “When I first moved to Thailand, I met this girl named Sawyer, at the hostel. But I didn’t see her for a while, so we didn’t get a chance to really talk, but then one day I went out with this guy I had met, an Italian, from Florence, who turned out to be pushy and annoying and he followed me to my room and he kept trying to get me to invite him into my room even though I told him I was ready to go to bed, and Sawyer came out into the hallway and started, like, hassling him? Mostly in English but then she was shouting him down in Italian? And she finally got him to leave, and then we started talking. I asked her if she spoke Italian and she said no, but that ‘You’re bothering her, leave her alone’ is one of the first things she learns how to say whenever she goes anywhere, and that she knows how to say it in like, eight different languages?” Smiling broadly, Joanie finished, “And that was kind of just that. We’ve been partners in crime ever since. She was always going on day trips and weekend trips to different cities and islands outside of Bangkok, and she would invite me every time, and I would go with her as often as I could. We would try to rent bikes wherever we went, when we could. And after a while it felt like, I could do that for the rest of time. With her.”

Cameron leaned back in her chair. “In romcoms, they call that a ‘meet cute’.”

Joanie blushed. “Since when do you watch romcoms?”

“I don’t! But that’s what I’ve heard, I saw something about it on an internet message board,” Cameron said quickly. She picked up her plate, and then took Joanie’s, and walked them over to the kitchen counter near the dishwasher. She grabbed the coffee pot, and returned to her mug to refill it. “So is Sawyer…does she have a Tori Loman in her past, somewhere?”

Joanie pushed her mug toward Cameron’s, and as she added the rest of the coffee to it, Joanie said, “If I understand correctly, she has a few Tori Lomans.”

“Ah. I see,” Cameron said. She returned the pot to the coffee maker, and then went back to her seat.

Staring down into her coffee, Joanie said, “I miss her. I’m glad I’m here. Like, really glad I’m here. Not everyone I’ve met has a home to go back to, you know? I wish that she could be here, though. I wish you and mom could meet her.”

Cameron cackled. “Your mother would lose her mind if you brought someone, anyone home for her to meet, Jesus. It’d be like the holidays, when she gets that vibe like she’s planning some kind of tactical land invasion, it would be peak Donna Emerson.” Tapping her mug excitedly with a nail, Cameron grinned, “It will drive me nuts. I can’t wait.”

Slouching in her seat, Joanie sighed, “I feel like you’ll probably be waiting for a while. I feel like she would like to, but I can’t imagine it working out.” Joanie started to fiddle idly with her hair, wrapping the ends of it around her finger, and unwinding it. “Our lives are just like, so far removed from everything here? Which, that’s kind of the point, it’s okay. But she’s like, really different, about home. Or ‘home,’ or whatever,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “I’m waiting to go home, but like, in a good way, if that makes sense? I’m know I’m not supposed to yet, but I look for signs, and I know it will happen eventually. I’ll figure out what I’m supposed to do, and someday I’ll figure out how to do that here. But I don’t think Sawyer thinks that way, she’s always looking for the next adventure. Which is why I love her. But I don’t think she’ll see coming here as an adventure.”

Gently, Cameron said, “Joanie….” She kicked the foot of her stool playfully. “When I was living in Japan, do you ever think I felt like I’d wind up here? With you mom?”

“Probably not, I guess,” Joanie said, smiling tentatively.

“We dwell in possibility,” Cameron said, getting up and out of her seat again as she paraphrased Emily Dickinson. “Come on, let’s go find something fun to do,” she grabbed her mug.”You can tell me more about Sawyer, which I can use to make fun of you whenever you bring up Tori Loman.”

Joanie thought about arguing, but then she got up, grabbed her coffee, and followed Cameron.

#cameron 'world's best stepdad' howe #there is one (1) photo of kathryn newton and maya hawke aka robin 'these ladies are so very hot' buckley #and this was my response to it #no ragerts!#happy saturday bbys!#femslash february #femslash february 2021 #fan fiction #cameron howe #joanie clark #your semi regular reminder that joanie clark is not and has never been h*terosexual!

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

Our Love Like Fibonacci

→ summary: Namjoon likes to solve the never-ending Fibonacci Sequence. The act is reassuring, satisfying, even. It reminds him that there are things other than his life that are never-ending.

→ pairing/rating: namjoon x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 95% mellow angst, 5% fluff | reincarnation!au & immortal!au

→ warnings: death, very brief mention of suicides

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: thank you to the wonderful @aaugustlee, @fangirlfeelz and @meowxyoong for beta reading!

♫: Jamais Vu by BTS | Something Better (feat. Lady Antebellum) by Audien

cr.

There is no one on this Earth who has endured more misfortune than Kim Namjoon. Namjoon likes to tell himself that he is in a blessed curse. For more than one thousand years, Namjoon's been stuck at the age of seventeen. He has not aged one single bit physically, but his mind has gone through much more than what an average man would experience in his lifetime. Namjoon's known disastrous conflict, suffered through world wars, survived global pandemics and loved only one woman in his life.

That woman is you.

For 1,026 years, Namjoon has been a man of change. He has accustomed himself to more than thousands of cultures around the world, learned hundreds of languages and fought through the perils of social media in the recent twenty-first century. But if one thing hasn't changed at all; that's you.

You're fated to die at the tender age of seventeen—the same age that Namjoon is stuck in for all of eternity. And fate so happens to bring you and Namjoon together every time. Just a week before your death, you are always scheduled to meet this immortal Kim Namjoon. You are to fall in love with him in seven days and convince yourself that you will live with him forever and ever. Then the universe will cruelly take your life.

Namjoon's watched you die many times. Sometimes, he is unable to hold you in his arms when you're at your very last breaths. Other times, he is with you when you die. Fate is random and strikes when Namjoon least expects it.

When you die, Namjoon must wait another decade until you are reborn. Then he must wait another seventeen years until you turn of age. But those first ten years are always the hardest because he knows you do not even exist in the world anymore; the universe feels empty without you. The day you are always born, the fateful, magical day of November 23rd, Namjoon celebrates it by himself and wishes you a happy birthday from afar. He would then wait seventeen years until fate brings the two of you together a week before your death.

Namjoon gets to see you for seven days after waiting for twenty-seven years. It's an unfair deal on his part, but it is also written in the stars somewhere above his reach that you will always fall in love with him. That is the only blessing in this curse.

Sometimes, he has a rocky start with you. The third time you were reborn, Namjoon had accidentally confessed his curse to you. You were confused, weirded-out, astonished. But two days later, you'd forgotten what he told you and became madly in love with the man. Other times, you fall in love with Namjoon from the first glance. It is always a mystery.

In fact, you are always an enigma.

Though your physical features never change, in some way or another, every time Namjoon meets you, you are another person. People are the product of their environment. Namjoon's seen you born as a daughter of a rich businessman, a princess from an obscure country, a prisoner of war, a peasant in the medieval times, and most often a middle-class citizen in hundreds of different countries. Every time, you are a different person with different values.

Before Namjoon was cursed, he thought it had been impossible to love someone through their changes. But fate has proved him wrong enough. After he's seen thirty-seven different versions of you, Namjoon is sure that he would love you no matter who you became. His love for you transcended time and bled into eternity.

He is always hit by a sense of nostalgia or what he likes to call, jamais vu, when he first sees you. He recognizes you, knows you, but you are always unfamiliar to him in the beginning. Even so, in his heart, Namjoon knows he is destined to be with you—even if it were for only seven days in twenty-seven years.

Twenty-seven years is a lot of time. Namjoon has accumulated a lot of strange, time-consuming habits. He counts sheep before he falls asleep every night. He's read every book in the Library of Congress. He learns and masters a new language every few months. He likes to listen to a lot of music to experience the changes between generations first-hand. But most of all, he likes to solve the never-ending Fibonacci Sequence.

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8... The pattern continues on for eternity and Namjoon finds it amusing. Most people stop before they reach a number of over a million. Namjoon's been adding numbers so large these days, they can fill up a whole document when typed out. Now the digits are too long to plug into a calculator, so he's been adding the numbers himself. The act is reassuring, satisfying, even.

It reminds him that there are things other than his life that are never-ending.

This year marks your 38th reincarnation. You are a curious, intuitive high-schooler with hopes as big as your eyes and an intellect as sharp as a freshly crafted sword. This time, you are from a privileged upper-middle-class family, born as an only child and pampered with kisses and words of encouragement from your parents. You ask Namjoon a lot of questions.

How am I only meeting you now? Where are you from? Why do you know so much about history? How many languages do you really know? Why do you look so familiar?

Namjoon prefers the shy version of you who comes once in a couple of hundred years. You ask fewer questions when you are timid, and that means there is a smaller chance of Namjoon slipping up and telling you about his curse.

Regardless of your changing personality, any time Namjoon spends with you is a happy time.

But you are extremely persistent this year. It's as if for the first time, you know what Namjoon is dealing with. It's as if you can sense there is something off about him. This reincarnation, you were gifted with an innate talent for reading people, for noticing the infinitesimal details no one else bothered to notice. You are an inquisitive, confident young lady no longer oppressed by a highly patriarchal society. Namjoon isn't used to you being so straightforward, but a lot has changed for the women in society over the years.

You tell him that you want to know why he seems to know you so well. Why he seems so familiar to you. Why he acts like he's seen terrible things in the past. Why he seems to be hiding something from you. You're compelled by him and you don't quite understand why.

"Every time I see you," you say, "I have déjà vu."

"Really?" Namjoon says.

"I just can't put my finger on it," you say. "But I've totally seen you somewhere before. Maybe in my past life?" you joke.

Namjoon smiles understandingly.

"Sometimes, when I look at you, I see a man who's dealt with time itself," you say. "Is that weird? Does that sound weird?" you laugh at yourself. "I don't know. I just get this vibe."

"Are you calling me wise?" Namjoon chuckles.

"Yeah," you say, bluntly. "You hold a lot of knowledge in that snatched head of yours," you snort. "Like, no cap."

Namjoon squints, but smiles. It seems just like yesterday when you had been speaking in medieval English. Now, you're speaking in an increasingly popular dialect dominated by young teenagers who use Twitter religiously. It's interesting to see how time can shape you.

"What kind of knowledge?" Namjoon asks.

"You have a seasoned nuance to your voice," you point out. "And sometimes, when you gaze far off into the distance, you look like you're having war flashbacks."

"Really?" Namjoon laughs. You're not wrong. He often thinks about the wars he's lived through, the atrocities he's faced, though he tries not to show it. Again, you prove yourself to be incredibly observant.

"Yeah," you say. "I've seen you in my dreams before. You were my knight in shining armor when I was a princess..." you hum, closing your eyes as if to recall the memory.

Namjoon remembers that reincarnation. You'd been beheaded after the peasants in your kingdom had rebelled against your parents, the king and queen.

"You were the local farm boy I was in love with as a peasant," you giggle. "I have a lot of wack dreams." Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, it had been true, too. That year, you'd been killed off by the plague.

Never in the 1,026 years that Namjoon's known you have you ever remembered your past encounters with him in any way, shape or form. You're special this year; Namjoon can feel it.

"And you know? The day before we met, I had a dream full of numbers," you confess. "It looked a lot like a pattern." You squint. "If only I could remember the sequence... The numbers were increasing, too."

Shivers run down Namjoon's spine. There's no way. "Did it happen to be the Fibonacci Sequence?" he asks.

"The what?" you say.

"Zero, one, one, two, three, five?" Namjoon says. "You know? That sequence when the next number is found by adding up the two numbers before it?"

"Wait," you say. "I know what the Fibonacci Sequence is... But how did you guess?" you say carefully as if you were testing the waters.

"Um, well..." Namjoon sighs. "It was a lucky guess, I suppose."

"Or we're just soulmates," you giggle.

Something like that, Namjoon thinks.

"We definitely know each other from past lives or something," you declare. "Though I don't remember anything..."

You can't possibly be so casual about this. Don't you know? You're going to die in two days. And he's had to love you through the pain, get over your many deaths...

When Namjoon's silent, you speak again.

"You know, I've had a reoccurring dream my whole life," you say. "I die in this dream every time."

Namjoon jerks his head towards you. "What?"

"It's always after I see you too, Joonie. I die in my dream after I meet you," you say. "All my life, I've loved and hated your face. Do you know what you mean to me? You're like a poisonous true love. I was afraid of the day I would meet you because I knew that I would die shortly after. But when I finally met you in person," you smile, reaching to take his hand in yours, "a lot of that fear washed away. I feel like I met my soulmate. And if, no, when I die, I'll die knowing I don't regret meeting you."

Namjoon is speechless. He finally manages to stutter, "W-What else have you dreamed about?"

"Sometimes I dream in your perspective," you say. "It's lonely... And sad," you whisper. "You're immortal, though you've concluded that after you tried to die many times. Oftentimes, I wake up crying for you."

"God," Namjoon mutters under his breath. "You know everything, don't you?"

You beam. "I guess so."

"You've been waiting for me."

"Well, I always knew we'd meet one day," you confess. "I prepared myself to love you, too, you know? And in the last few years, I've been writing mini letters for you to read after I'm dead and until we meet in my next life," you say. "I wrote 108 so far! Do you think that'll cut it?"

"Y/N..." Namjoon breathes. "Of course that'll cut it. That's the best news I've heard in years."

"Great!" you say, giggling. "I hope they're not too cheesy for you."

Namjoon shakes his head. "No, I have a feeling they'll make me happy for a long time," he answers. "Thank you."

"Be sure to read the first letter on my 18th birthday," you reply, smiling softly. "You'll appreciate it more than at any other time."

It's the first time in his extended life that Namjoon feels like you know more than him.

Once in millions of Millenniums, people like the 38th reincarnation of you are born. Those who see things they were not there for, those who are clairvoyant, those who are young yet all-knowing.

You even knew how you were going to die in this life, but you'd refused to tell Namjoon. Most times, ignorance is bliss, you'd told him.

On the day of your death, you'd given a box full of letters to Namjoon. Then, you'd taken him out on a final date in your red car. You and Namjoon had both known that this car trip would be the end of your life, but neither of you bothered to meddle with what was destined to be.

It's always 4:44 p.m when it happens. This time, it happened in a busy intersection when the car in front of you had hit a jaywalking pedestrian. You'd screamed, jerking the steering wheel to the right to avoid hitting the vehicle in front of you. But that had caused your car to swerve off the road and flip over, tumbling down the hillside. Namjoon had miraculously survived, of course. But you were dead on the scene.

He's seen you die so many times, but something about that day was particularly worse. Maybe because you knew you were going to die.

And so the depressing cycle starts again.

A few lonely months after your death, Namjoon opens your first letter on your birthday: November 23rd. He hasn't felt this giddy in a very long time.

The envelope is labeled with a large "1," which means the letters are in order. Namjoon carefully opens the crisp envelope, pulling out a folded note. The paper is crisp, so you must have written the letter quite recently.

He takes a deep breath before he unfolds it. When he sees your small, minimalistic handwriting, he breathes out shakily. His hands shake as he grips the letter, and he begins to read.

To the Man in My Dreams (aka Namjoon),

Our love is like a lot of things. But I like to compare it most to the Fibonacci Sequence. We start off at zero. Then, we add on a one. The numbers accumulate as time progresses. The pattern is familiar, but the numbers never repeat. Isn't that literally us?

The me that you know specifically will never happen again. (Trust me, I know.) But you will see girls like me in your eternal life.

Every time you work on your Fibonacci Sequence, think of me, please. And I promise in my next lifetime, you'll find me again. (Though I can't guarantee that I'll remember any of this.) I hope the rest of these letters will keep you company.

You'll like the next Y/N very much, by the way.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, indeed, Namjoon thinks. Until next time.

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #namjoon #joon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #our love like fibonacci #ollf

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mmmmalo · 4 years

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@overtrolled-liveblog‘s recent post on Gamzee made me realize that Gamzee’s first interaction with Terezi (Terezi attempting to hurt Gamzee and being angry when he doesn’t react) is also the basic dynamic of Terezi’s ill-fated attempt to “avenge” herself upon Gamzee around Game Over. I never understood why Terezi’s was manifesting for Gamzee in that interaction, but the repetition seems like a good lead. So here’s an attempt:

Aranea’s mind control is being juxtaposed with whatever allowed Gamzee to maintain his composure in Act 5. Sopor is an obvious candidate, as is his general early interest in avoiding conflict, but there might be something else to it...

2018. When Gamzee remarks (in the narration) that "it is dangerous to leave unarmed", the commentary has this to say: "It's probably not actually that dangerous to leave unarmed. This was probably something his goat dad told him a long time ago. But only to scare him, and make sure he stayed inside so no one would ever see him, because he was so embarrassed by him. Goatdad is probably one of the most sympathetic characters in the story. If Gamzee was your son, wouldn't you abandon him too?" Glib dismissal, veering sharply into needless cruelty. But it nonetheless draws attention to the narration's unreliability, moored as it is to Gamzee's POV.

2017. Speaking of unreliable: "You aren't supposed to eat that slime. It does funny things to a troll's head. // But you were never taught that on account of a lousy upbringing. Your custodian was always out to sea." Gamzee is evidently thinking the very thing he was never taught, but he attributes that thought to a higher power (the narrator) and thereby pleads ignorance of it? Or it could be read as an expression of shame: as Gamzee eats his pie, he imagines a stern voice admonishing him from over his shoulder. OR you might more literally parse the contradiction as the voice of two separate Gamzees sharing the brain space in some kind of daze...or you could call it simple memory loss. These are inclusive ors, btw.

2019. Anyway, Gamzee reaches the beach and we get this line: "You leave your hive and head out to the beach. There is no sign of your custodian. // You should not stay out here very long. The SEA DWELLERS are quite hostile." Commentary on his custodian's absence, followed by a voice of authoritative behavioral cautioning, as though a guardian were living in Gamzee's head. Immediately following this, Terezi manifests for Gamzee, though he doesn't answer immediately... so I suspect Terezi's manifestation will be an elaboration this internal division?

2020: "You're always down for shooting the wicked shit with anyone that who'll put up with you." Man... Act 5 is misery. The Miracle Modus is a picture of Gamzee's brain being fried to a point of being nearly inaccessible. Vivid flashing colors (like Jade's rich scents) are a mark of unfiltered EXPERIENCE sans language/reason (which is probably why Lord English's eyes are flashing), but here that means disorientation -- difficulty organizing sense experience...

2022: Gamzee says a prayer and Faygo gets launched out of his sylladex... is the Faygo the prayer? Jane launched wishes into the sky with the balloons on LOCAH -- but the balloon shape was inverted and transformed into Gamzee's bottles of "potion"... that association seems to be expressed more concisely here. Jane's case was also related to decapitation motifs, which I don't really see with Gamzee here... (aside from Terezi's general association with going for the neck) But at any rate, what is he wishing for?

2023. Gamzee standing in front of his sylladex is getting to me, even more so that his reaching into the sylladex. You are not SUPPOSED to be on that layer of the image. What are you doing. Is that safe? Are you okay?

2024. The conversation itself...continues to evade summarization. I'm going to just describe it piece-by-piece and see if I get anywhere.

Terezi deliberately misspells Gamzee's name in service of a joke: from 'gamzeez' to 'gamezez', highlighting its phonetic proximity to 'games'. Though I wonder if this disguises another sort of exchange: Gamzee goes down to the beach to find his dad, but instead finds Terezi. I'm humoring the idea that she is effectively functioning as the fatherly authority in Goatdad's place. But as the preceding panels indicates, that very notion of authority occupies a place in Gamzee's head that he remains somewhat...detached from? If Terezi gives voice to this aspect of Gamzee, the word blurring could obfuscate that she is saying "Gamzee" /twice/, such that her invitation to play games is an offer for Gamzee to pilot himself? (Which in the parent:child::head:body paradigm is not entirely ridiculous?)

Come to think of it, this is the second time Terezi has harassed someone on a waterfront (hi, Rose) and even then main subjects were a) haha your guardian abandoned you because you're terrible and b) a sense of hearing imploring voices in your head...

Terezi implies that she doesn't like Gamzee and is only inviting him in service of a joke. Gamzee ignores the ulterior message and accepts the given reason as justifiable... after which Terezi gets angry. But she doesn't seem angry that the implication was misunderstood (and her disdain ignored) but is rather angry that the arbitrariness of his selection wasn't itself objectionable -- /after/ which she confirms her own disdain by saying "no wonder Vantas can't stand you". The motivation for the joke became the effect of the joke...

"BUT WHO C4R3S 4BOUT H1M, W3R3 GO1NG TO H4V3 SOM3 MOTH3RFUCK1NG SH1TTY B1TCH3S PL4Y1NG TOG3TH3R!" as Rose said, "Still not sure if I'm being courted or trolled here." Terezi is making fun of how Gamzee talks but nonetheless seems to be attempting to bond with him here...?

With "keeping an eye out" and "you know how it is with family" back-to-back with Terezi's aggression, it kind of feels like Gamzee is likewise (successfully) attempting to bother Terezi... but his defense is his forgetfulness, like a taboo subject just slipped... the same is true of Gamzee's claim that he was never taught that sopor is dangerous, the legitimacy of which depends on Gamzee forgetting?

"The Bard of... fuck, i forgot" is literally a joke on Gamzee "forgetting" his way around anger and aggression, by way of the omission of Rage? Also, it's a generic phrase but John uses 'fuck i forgot' when reminded of his birthday in the Epilogues... topic of birthdays is significant since Gamzee parses his state of mind as 'spacing out' and 'losing track of time' -- a birthday is, in that context, a reminder of time's progression.

Twice in Gamzee's conversation he asks Terezi for a little bit more time before he plays the game with her. This again reminds us of Rose's procrastination -- which among other things represents a deferral of encounter with the Truth, again bringing us to forgetting.

2028. But interestingly enough, the motif of procrastination continues in the section with Karkat that follows: Karkat expresses apprehension about meeting his guardian before the narrative segues to Terezi, which is structurally resonant with Gamzee going to the beach for his guardian, only to find Terezi? Which again associates her with unseen authority figures...

Oh shoot, and the panel cuts from Karkat looking down through the hole in his floor to a low-angle shot of Terezi's skylight? As though she were below like crabdad. That seals it for me.

2030. Actually, I mentioned how Gamzee's flashing modus is related to the unmediated sensory bouquet that Lord English sees ALL THE TIME by having flashing eyes, but Terezi's room? Is set up to be exactly that sensory bouquet, all the time, with loud colors plastered and mixed haphazardly. I've mostly focused on Terezi's relation to English by way of their shared association with the Law (x)(x) but this is a fresh angle...

And since it becomes apparent that the scenes that /follow/ Gamzee's conversation inform the way it should be read, I would be remiss to exclude the Karkat/Sollux conversation between the Gamzee and Terezi sections... in which the ~ATH (til death) code is brought up, which proves central to Lord English's creation.

2026. "later on you would run this code in a fit of stupidity." Creepy! I always assume the narration to be bound to the present tense, like the character's POV, so this sudden interruption from the future is really unnerving. How does Karkat know this? Is that just a miserable self-assessment, like he knows he'll harm himself when he gets worked up? Is this Karkat planning to curse everyone, but renouncing his decision as a product of fate? I feel like this confusion nicely complements the paradoxical ~ATH code on screen (Sollux's double reacharound virus)

2027. "Speak of the devil" Sollux has manifested for Karkat... yeah I still can't make sense of this as far as manifestation goes. BUT I think the fact that chatlogs are likewise two-colored might mean that Sollux and Karkat's conversation is in some sense analogous to the code...? The architecture of the conversation is... accusing eachother of self-loathing and then agreeing upon mutual self-destruction (of the conversational log), which at least superficially resembles a program that exists to destroy itself and the medium in which it resides? Maybe...

Shot in the dark: the (much procrastinated) march unto Truth is a march unto Judgement, which means both God and Death. Thus Gamzee (the procrastinator who avoids truth) transitions to Karkat/Sollux (vaguely suicidal gesture in their conversation) transitions to Terezi (judge and executioner, associated with ultimate authority and thus God). That's my best assessment of the proceedings thus far.

#homestuck reread 3 #long post #gamzee #terezi #the law

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vaire-gwir · 4 years

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Some Cat and Wolf fanfic I had in mind pt.3

We are back to lockdown where I live so I had plenty of time to kill and this is the result, this is my excuse. There was plot, but I kinda got lost in a messy plan I don’t know what to do with it.

In short, Lambert is still very messed up and figures out a plan to settle for a while, there’s the usual flashback but I’ve never written smut (under the cut) in my entire life so I hope it’s not too horrible, an attempt was made. A failed attempt probably, but still an attempt nonetheless. Let me now what I can do to get better?

Did I say English is not my first language? Well, it’s not, and I always feel like I don’t know enough words to put down what I have in my head. Still not canon, still not anywhere close a valid characterization, still trash.

***

<<There you go, 300 crowns.>> The captain doesn't leave him waiting too long, thank fuck for that. The werewolf proved almost too easy to kill and Lambert is eager to go back to the inn and wash away ever thought of his dead lover with ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Spending the rest of his day drunk out of his mind sounds like a great plan, not one that Aiden would approve of, but he's not here to convince him otherwise. <<I'll find my way out.>> Something moves at the corner of his eyes, and his senses immediately pick up the weird rustling of leaves, preparing himself in case of unexpected danger. A black and orange cat jumps out of the bushes, the small beast is probably chasing something or doing whatever cat business cats usually do, but Lambert could swear he knows those green eyes darting around, he's seen them before millions of times. The animal is gone in a heartbeat and he shakes his head. If he could, he'd kick his own ass, cause he needs to stop thinking about Aiden, it's clearly muddling with his head. <<...still missing.>> He stopped paying attention to the captain's words a long time ago, he had no sympathy left in himself to share with the man. Lambert is only good at dealing with physical pain: the pain of the beatings his father used to give him, the pain of the trials, the pain of a monster tearing at his flesh, he learned to face it cause he knew that it would go away eventually. It was just a matter of time, broken bones and split lips mend, claw marks and cuts fade rather quickly being a Witcher and simply leave one more scar to his collection. Other things, he’s not good at coping with them, especially emotions, cause he's not even supposed to have them. They don't go away like bruised ribs. <<Not much I can do about that.>> <<But you've seen something? We hoped he managed to escape but...we didn't...Is he...dead?>> The missing soldier, Lambert remembers now. The werewolf took twelve men but only eleven bodies were found. <> He sees the old man's eyes widen at the thought, he sees the flicker of hope and he hates to kill it. <<A wife.>> <<You don't want his wife to see what I saw, trust me on that.>> Lambert leaves without another word.

The sole fact that a cat with green eyes is messing up with his head should be alarming, there must be something wrong with him. There were thousands of cats with green eyes all around the Continent, so why was he making such a big deal out of it? It's not like he'd never seen one before. Though in a way, a Cat with green eyes messed up with more than just his head already, that's what got him in this whole situation he’s not very good at handling. The only thing he's good at is killing things, and this is what he has to keep doing. He isn’t even that great at eliminating monsters actually, his brothers are much better, but that's all he knows how to do. Maybe he should look for them, track Eskel somewhere and explain what happened, explain that everything went to hell and now there are days when nothing makes sense anymore, he can’t even seem to care enough to find another contract, another village, another monster. He's not going to tell him that he saw a cat with Aiden's eyes and there's not enough to drink in this tavern to chase away that thought, cause patient as he may be, Eskel is not going to put up with crazy.

Looking for his brothers is a terrible idea, now that he thinks about it. He just needs to go somewhere with enough monsters for him to stop moving around all the time, cause he can't travel on the bad days. He can barely leave the room, on bad days. That's why Lambert comes up with a plan: he'll go to the only place where he doesn't have to find work, cause work will find him anyway. That is, as soon as he feels like existing again, because today the shadows crowding the corners of his vision don't leave him alone and there are green eyes haunting him every time he blinks.

Lambert wishes more than anything that he could feel Aiden again, the real one, not the ghost he sees in his dreams, just lay entangled in bed without any words being spoken aloud, their hands, their lips, their touches already said everything that needed to be told. Words have a habit of lingering just below his line of reach, they were there, but just a little too far for him to grasp at them and put them into thoughts he could say out loud. There were so many words between Aiden and him, words unspoken and words he'd like to take back, and why the fuck words are so complicated anyway?

It takes him another day before he's able to travel, but at least now he has a plan. Lambert tolerates Toussaint because people are filthy rich and always willing to pay a little extra to prove just how wealthy they are. He's been there before, spent three full weeks in a castle with Aiden, hunting a striga. The problem is, memories haunt him anyway, he can't get rid of them. At least they don't want to stone him there.

<<Lambert?>> He lingers on the doorstep for a moment before entering and closing the door behind his back. The light of the moon is enough for him to make out Aiden's form slowly sitting up on the bed, rumpled sheets pooling at his waist, and a faint trace of lavender soap invades the air. <<Why, were you waiting for someone else?>> Lambert is still holding an empty cup he brought up from the ballroom he just managed to leave, the only good part of the night was the wine. Empty social meetings and royal occasions are just an excuse for nameless Lords and Ladies to brag about the huge pile of bullshit they were sitting on. It bored him to death. And it all proved rather useless cause he didn't get much information about the striga that was supposedly haunting the castle. Lord Launfal kept passing him and Aiden around, showing them off like hunting trophies for the court to gawk at and bragging about having two Witchers at his services. What a fucking idiot, he hates royals with all of himself. But Aiden didn't even seem to mind! He had princes and ladies eyeing him as if he was an expensive cake they couldn't wait to get their dirty fingers on, and Lambert was upset. He didn't like people looking at his lover as if they were about to eat him. The worst part was that he saw the Cat talking to all those rich idiots, playing along as if he wanted nothing more than meeting another Lady Nobody from Nowhere, as if he was enjoying all the attention. Lambert was already fuming after the first part of the evening was over, and somehow it all seemed to go downhill when people started to discretely slip Aiden invitations for more.

Everybody hated and despised Witchers, in all corners of the Continent they were treated no better than the beasts they were hired to kill, chased out of villages and stoned, with one single exception. In Toussaint, they were some kind of luxury to exhibit, like exotic animals from distant lands, nothing more than the latest attraction among the richest assholes of the province. And Aiden, beautiful green-eyed Aiden, apparently was a favourite. Lambert kept hearing people offering his lover to finish the night in a more interesting manner, and it made his blood boil. He wanted to finish their night in a way more interesting manner, as in slitting some throats or throwing a bastard, or six, out of the window. Aiden pretended to accept the offers with a kind word, fully aware of his position here and what was required of him, saying he was still bound to his job but perhaps he could find time later. Maybe he wasn't pretending, that's what the voice in Lambert's head keeps saying. Maybe he'll take one of those invites. Maybe that's why he's so surprised to see Lambert now.

<<Possibly. I was terribly bored here by myself.>> Next thing Aiden knows, something is flying in his direction and he thanks his Witcher senses or the mug would have hit him fair and square. He ducks out of the way cursing, the loose black shirt covering him slips from his shoulder and his hair is a little tousled. When he speaks again his voice sounds on the good side of rough. <<What the fuck pup? I was just kidding!>> He stares at the cup on the floor more than a little surprised, things thrown at him were not part of his plan for the rest of the night. <<Didn't sound like it to me.>> Aiden smiles, the bastard has the courage to look smug and stare at him while Lambert busies himself with the buckles of his armor. He can tell by the way his Wolf was moving that something made him angry, and considering the night they had, the list of things that could have caused it was unsurprisingly long. <<Are you, by any chance, jealous, my dear wolf?>> <<What? No! Of course not! Do whatever and whoever the fuck you want.>> He tries to sound as careless and uninterested as possible, as if the idea of Aiden with someone else doesn't disturb him at all. He fails miserably.

Lambert finishes removing all his gear, leaving it in a pile on the floor and trying his best to ignore Aiden's pleased expression. He moves towards the screen door hiding the bathroom to retrieve a damp rag, but Aiden is up in a second, facing him. <<You're jealous.>> <<And you're still here? Thought you were waiting for someone, weren't you? Don't keep them waiting.>> He casually points at the door behind them. Of course he's jealous, he is jealous of everyone that ever caught Aiden's attention, constantly afraid of not being enough for the other man, but he isn't about to suddenly admit he doesn't know how to deal with his emotions, cause he doesn't have emotions. He doesn't. The Witcher, heartless, cold, the song didn't say the Witcher a soft sappy guy, it doesn't even rhyme. <<You're kicking me out?>> Aiden raises an eyebrow at him, casually leaning against the stone wall of the bathroom. <<Oh please, I'm sure there's more than one rich Lord or Lady in this house that would welcome you in a soft bed and with spread legs.>> Lambert moves past the Cat, fumbling with his clothes as if he doesn't know what to do with his hands before stripping down to his trousers. He picks up a washcloth from the side of the bathtub, mindlessly scrubbing down his arms and chest, frowning at the water in front of him as if it held the solutions to all his problems. Aiden's scent follows him around the room, and he's so used to it that it's always weird for him to be in a room that doesn't smell like Aiden when they go their separate ways for a couple of days. <<Sorry, when did I turn into a high-class whore in this ridiculous story of yours? All this because you refuse to admit you're jealous?>> <>

Aiden knows well enough that none of them is after a fight, too strung high after their evening. And he also knows that confronting Lambert is simply not working. He softens his voice and steals the washcloth from his hands, dipping it in the warm water again and beginning to gently swipe it across tense shoulder blades. <<Do you think that if I had my eyes on someone I'd bring them to our room? The very same room where I know you will come back? I decide to cheat on you and I do it in our bed, wearing your shirt? That's not a very smart move. Also, you were with me the entire night, who do you think I was waiting for?>> Lambert doesn't move, taken aback by Aiden's unexpected gesture. He knows the touch of the warm palm on his side he knows the motion of the hand that brings the rug down his back, and he's grateful for the familiarity of it. He can get lost in the sensation. Aiden is being nice to him, even after he practically called him a whore. Damn his stupid big mouth.

<<Plenty of options. I heard about all the invites you got.>> He mumbles under his breath, all the demanding voices of the evening just spent still echoing in his ears. Aiden lets the washcloth fall back into the water, placing a small kiss just under the nape of his neck as he was used to do every time they were cleaning up after a contract, it was his way to tell him it was all done, they could relax now that it was over. It's one of the little things Aiden does to keep him grounded, like leaving something of his in plain sight in the rooms they shared, so if Lambert woke up alone he would always know that he hadn't left for good, he was just at the blacksmith or getting them breakfast and he was coming back soon, or the fingers ghosting at the inside of Lambert's wrist when he was getting mad and he wanted to be on his own, so Aiden remained just close enough to trail his fingers on the back of his clenched fists or his wrists from time to time. Small things, habits picked up in many days and nights together, learning each other quirks without ever pointing them out, without ever judging but simply accepting them and learning what to do with them, cause they know fully well that sometimes fighting and fucking until they were out of energy was not enough, cause they were on edge and everything threatened to set their nerves off, so their best chance was trying to smooth out the razor-sharp corners of their frustration with soft touches and whispered words in the quiet. <> <<Then why did you sound so surprised when I walked in?>> Aiden laughs at his sudden outburst, moving his arms around Lambert's waist and pressing himself against his back. <<Cause I was sleeping you stupid pup! You said you wanted to stay a while longer but I was this close to snap someone's neck. I had to go.>> <<Oh. So you were not....waiting for someone else?>> Lambert feels his lover placing another soft kiss at the back of his neck before resting his chin on his shoulder. He tentatively lays one of his hands on Aiden's arm still around his waist, fingering the black fabric there as if he wasn't sure he was still allowed to touch him after the things he said. <<You're so stupid, you're lucky I love you. I couldn't bear being shown off among those bastards as if I was for sale, that's why I came back here. I cleaned up and I wanted to wait for you to return but I must have fallen asleep. >> <<You love me?>> Aiden hears him whispering, his voice so low he can only make it out because of his sharpened senses. He lays another kiss on his shoulder, tracking an errant drop of water with his lips. <<Very much. Now tell me why were you so angry?>> <> Lambert sighs loudly and moves away from his embrace, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious than usual. Aiden was not cheating, of course, why did he even say that? This was him being an asshole as always, taking out his anger on the first person who tries to put up with him. <<No, come on, tell me. What did you think was going on here?>> Lambert sits heavily on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on the green carpet covering a good part of the floor. He wants to make things right, but words are dirty treacherous things slipping out of his reach, and he doesn't know how to explain why there's always a nasty voice in his head whispering cruel things.

<<I see you. And I see people around you. They look at you. Want you. And you're...you, you flirt with them. They always reek of lust and desire, I could practically catch pretty maids getting wet between their legs when you talked to them. You could be spending the night with a fucking Princess or a Lord, but you're here in the servants' wing for no good reason.>> He lets out the breath he didn't realize he held, it always seems to require him a huge effort to say out loud his thoughts. Cats were supposed to be unbalanced and all that but fuck balance, sad lot of good balance and control did to him.

<<Lambert, look at me.>> His vision is fully occupied by Aiden's form standing directly in front of him, he didn't realize he moved but now an extended hand reaches out to his chin, thumb tracing the dark stubble there and he can't avoid his green eyes. Aiden is always moving with feline grace, when he's fighting, fucking, walking through a crowded room, or killing a beast, smooth as if everything he does is the easiest thing in the world. When he places a hand on the side of his face, Lambert nuzzles into the touch, feeling all his rage melting away in the palm of that hand. <<I am exactly where I choose to be. With you. I could never choose anything in life since I was brought to Stygga, and I don't remember anything before it, but this thing between you and me, I chose it. I want this.>> Aiden slowly straddles him, his knees resting on the mattress below them and Lambert can't resist putting his hands around his waist, hitching the shirt up a little, yearning for the warm skin underneath, for a touch to prove that this perfect man above him is areally here.

Lambert feels so stupid for even thinking those ridiculous words he said out loud. He never knows what to say cause he never had to try to fix things with someone, people were not this patient with him, they just walked out of his life when it all got too hard to handle. But Aiden is here, and all he can do is look at him and kiss him eagerly, the soft lips open to leave him full access to his lover's mouth. He wants to pour all these nameless things he feels in their kiss, seeking forgiveness on the tip of Aiden's tongue moving against his own. <<'m sorry.>> He tries to say when they break apart, leaning his forehead on Aiden's. Aiden kisses him again, letting his hands roam free on the exposed planes of Lambert's back, sending shivers down his lover's spine and silencing his excuses in a languid kiss. Lambert trails his hands down to Aiden's hips, too much fabric getting in the way of his exploration. <<Are you really...wearing my shirt?>> <<It smells like you, and I was lonely. I felt bad after being ogled like I was dessert by a bunch of old royal assholes.>> <<I...Shit, I thought you...you enjoyed the...attention.>> <<Why would I like a crowd of perverted nobles staring at me? I put up with it cause this contract is good money, not because I wanted to be noticed.>> Lambert is suddenly overwhelmed by the need to touch, to feel his skin under his palms, and have him closer. <<Fuck, Aiden, I'm... I hate them even more now.>> Lambert tightens his hold around his lover, relishing the feeling of Aiden's body on top of his own, of holding him, of those hands caressing his skin, and of his scent enveloping him. He knows he hardly deserves any of that. <<Me too pup, trust me, me too. Why did you stay if you despised it so much though? >> Aiden traces the scar on the right side of his face, fingers gently brushing on his forehead down to his cheek, exploring the different texture. It's his favourite one. Lambert didn't even want Aiden to touch it at first when they began to get more intimate, finding the ugly mark particularly horrible to look at, but the Cat was set to show the other man he didn't mind one bit, and he clearly succeeded in his mission. <<Tried to get more details on the striga. I caught three servants gossiping about how Lady Launfal was willing to do anything to make sure the castle stayed in her family even after her death.>> <<Ugh, they can't let go of their stupid stuff even when they're rotting six feet under.>> The contempt in Aiden's voice is crystal clear, and he chases it away kissing Lambert again, taking his time in exploring his mouth, nipping at the full bottom lip before suckling the sting away. Aiden slips his tongue between parted lips, licking into the inviting mouth, his lover's beard tickling his skin as he deepened the kiss. It's never enough for Lambert, he's addicted to this body, to this taste, he could hold him forever and he'd still want more. He feels Aiden moaning in the kiss, desire pooling inside him at the sweet sounds escaping his lover's mouth. <<Missed you.>> Aiden says while Lambert outlines with his thumb the edge of the pink scar under Aiden's ribs, this one is special cause it was the first he patched up himself, stitching his best friend in a dark cave by the fire, terrified to lose him.

<> Lambert stares at the wet, shiny lips he just tasted and slips his hands lower, cupping his lover's ass and squeezing it roughly, drawing him impossibly closer. Aiden starts to slowly roll his hips, eliciting a barely muffled groan from Lambert and smirking like the cat that got the fucking cream when he feels Lambert's cock twitch beneath him. <<Oh you're such a good boy, aren't you pup? But work hours are over, you're mine now.>> Aiden purrs in his ear before moving lower to place small kisses on his throat, nibbling on his collarbone and running his fingers over Lambert's chest, nails catching on his nipples and stopping his journey to squeeze one hardening nub. <<You could have...fuck yes, that's nice...you could have helped.>> Aiden bites a little too harshly on the soft spot where neck and shoulder meet. He loves the way Lambert grips at him harder, fingertips digging into the supple flesh of his ass, keeping him right where he wants him. <<I'm helping! I was half-naked in your room, wearing your shirt, all warm and ready for you, not my fault you had better things to do than join me.>> Aiden licks a few times over the reddening spot at the base of his lover's throat, the taste of his skin invading his mouth. <<Looks better on you.>> Aiden hides his grin in Lambert's neck as he deliberately starts to move his hips again, slowly rocking back and forward to create delicious friction between their clothed erections and drawing sharp groans from both of them. Aiden presses down on his shoulders, pushing Lambert to lay flat on the bed and working his trousers open before slipping a hand inside to slowly palm his cock, staring at his Wolf with hungry eyes, burning with lust. <<I want you. I've been wanting you the whole night. The one time we get to go to a party, and you get all jealous of me. And it looks so fucking hot on you. You thought I wanted a prince, but I kept dreaming of fucking with the scary, mean Witcher in every dark corner.>> The way Lambert shamelessly moans into his touch is sinful, and it's one of the best sounds Aiden ever heard. <<Oh fuck, Aiden...>> He leans on his Wolf just enough to whisper against his lips, sharing the same breath for a heartbeat. <<Yes love, that's the plan.>> Those inviting lips are gone just like that, and Lambert almost whines at the loss. Aiden pulls down his smallclothes, effectively shoving them out of the way before finally moving back to sit on his thighs, stroking his cock again. He loves feeling Lambert getting hard under his attention, feeling his erection growing when he licks his nipples or bites down on the sweet spot on his neck that makes his lover shiver. He begins to trace his fingers over all those places that make Lambert moan, teasing the head of his length with a thumb before wrapping his hand around it, enjoying the sounds he can get out of him.

<<Need you naked right now.>> Lambert groans while he moves to work the buttons on Aiden's shirt, his shirt, and he can't get the offending material off of his shoulders soon enough. Aiden laughs while standing up to quickly remove the last of his clothes. He gets a small vial of oil from the bedside table before wrapping his legs around Lambert's hips again. No matter how many times they've been here, the first skin on skin touch always feels like fire to Aiden, burning hot in his groin and making him crave more. Lambert digs his fingers into the dimples on Aiden's back, pushing their hips together as his lover begins to move in the most taunting rhythm. Sparks of pleasure flood his brain when he feels Aiden's cock rubbing against his own, smooth and velvety, the slow movements are enough to drive him crazy with need. <<Fuck me. Need you....need you now.>> Lambert knows this is not going to be one of the nights when they'll take their time, teasing each other over and over until they're both losing control, he can sense the same urgency he feels deep inside him in Aiden's voice.

Aiden sits up a little to get the vial of oil he left well in his grasp and pours it on his fingertips, eyes fixed on his lover beneath him as he reaches behind himself. Lambert watches entranced as Aiden starts to slowly stretch himself open, the sweet scent of the oil mixing with their arousal. <<You look so fucking hot Aiden.>> He moves his hands to grip Aiden's spread thighs, feeling the muscles quivering under the grasp of his fingers, harsh enough to leave little red dots scattered on the skin. Lambert nudges Aiden back a little, fingers moving on the inside of his thigh, stopping just to thumb at the slit on his lover's wet cock, losing himself in the keening sound that leaves Aiden's lips. <<So damn beautiful, can't believe you're all mine.>> He shifts enough to sit up and start mouthing Aiden's neck, tasting his skin and causing him to moan out loud. <<Need you...oh fuck, Lambert, need you inside...>> Lambert moves his hand back to grip the other's hips, steadying him as he kisses and bites his throat, and is so hard to resist the need to claim what's his. <<Let me. I want to feel you.>> Aiden shivers at his words, sneaking his free arm around Lambert's neck. Lambert brushes his hand on his spine in a soft caress, feeling the sweat already running down his back. He reaches the place where his lover is spreading himself open, two fingers already pushing inside his hole. Aiden slowly removes his hand, a small cry leaves his parted lips when he feels his lover teasing his entrance and when Lambert starts to press one finger there it's enough to make him writhe in his lap. <<Want you...Inside me...>> He rests his head on Lambert's shoulder, panting against the side of his neck as he feels a second finger entering him with no resistance. Aiden starts to roll his hips again, trying to grind their cocks together every time he nudges his hips forward, feeling the fingers inside him slip in even deeper. <> Lambert easily works his fingers in and out, searching for the bundle of nerves that will make Aiden scream and savoring the sight of his lover coming apart before his eyes when he finds it. Aiden moans in the most sinful way when he pushes a third finger in, rocking forward a little faster, enough for their erections trapped between their bodies to rub against the other just right. <<I'm...I'll come if you keep it up.>> Lambert feels the body in his arms shaking and quivering, and knowing he's the one that put him in that state always gets to his head. <<That's the idea. You make the most beautiful sound. I just want to make you come over and over again so I can hear it.>> He knows how to play with his lover's body, twisting his fingers just right to stroke his sweet spot, causing Aiden to cry out loud. <<Fucking....fuck, don't say that, I'm so close already.>> Aiden presses their bodies together, and Lambert can't help but wrap his hand around both their erections, pumping them with a sudden urgency. <> Lambert smirks at him, brushing his fingers against the tip of their cocks, spreading the wetness already gathering there. <<Not like this...I want to come with your cock deep inside me, I want to feel you everywhere.>> <<Gods, that mouth of yours.>> Lambert lets his fingers slip free from his lover's body, and he doesn't miss how Aiden whines at the loss. He tries to catch the green eyes he loves so much, hesitating for a brief second before asking <<You sure?>>

Aiden raises his head and looks dead serious while he shifts his hips enough to settle himself on his lover's thighs, feeling the hard cock twitching beneath him. <<You have to fuck me right now or I swear I'll find someone who will.>> Lambert grabs his ass possessively, squeezing hard enough to bruise and meeting Aiden's lips in a burning kiss. <<Like Hell you will!>> Aiden grins before taking his cock in his hand and guiding it inside himself, slowly sinking down as they both hiss in pleasure. For a moment Aiden remains still, very much enjoying the feeling of Lambert so deep and hot inside his body. Lambert tries as best as he can to stay still and let his lover adjust, losing himself in the vision before him. <<Aiden... Fuck, can you...Fuck, tell me you're good.>> Right now, stretched around him, with his eyes closed, hands braced on his chest and his tongue occasionally sneaking out to wet his lips, right now Aiden looks obscenely divine. He looks like everything Lambert ever wanted. <<My wolf, all mine...you feel so fucking good inside me.>>Aiden moans in his hear before settling a lazy pace, lifting himself up and slowly sinking back onto Lambert's cock. <<Tell me>> Lambert's voice is too rough and needy, and he can feel his control slipping away when Aiden sinuously arches his back, baring his throat for him to sink his teeth into the tender flesh. <<Feel so full, so deep inside me...I've been wanting you all night, wanted to ride you like this for so long...Oh fuck, you're gonna mark me? Cause I want you to.>> Lambert growls, hiding his face in the slope of Aiden's shoulder, biting down at the base of his neck, grateful for the fact that he doesn't have to hold back anymore, and Aiden tangles his hand in his hair to keep him close, crying out at the feeling of being claimed. <<Oh fuck, fuck, you feel so hot inside me.>> Aiden starts working his hips faster as Lambert meets him halfway, thrusting up in the welcoming heat and feeling the coils of his pleasure tightening inside him. Lambert licks the red mark decorating Aiden's throat, whispering <<Mine.>> against the heated flesh. He knows he won't last, they both heal quickly, but he knows it will be there in the morning. <<Yours. I need you to fuck me so hard I'll still feel you inside me tomorrow. >> Lambert moves his hands to grip Aiden's hips, holding him on his lap as he fucks into him, need burning inside him like flames. <<Godsdamn Aiden! >> A beautiful string of moans leave his lover's lips, Aiden was always loud, but right now he's sure every other person in this wing is probably hearing them. <<Oh, oh fuck, harder, please, just....fuck, you feel so good! I can take it, you know I can...>> Lambert knows he's not going to last long this time, Witcher's mutagens and all be damned, how can he resist with Aiden's tight ass around him, fully fucking himself on his cock. <<You're so tight, do you know how good you feel around me?>> Lambert feels how Aiden's whole body tenses up in his arms, and adjusts his angle to hit the right spot again and again, as he savors the way his lover clenches tighter around him, pleasure coursing through their bodies like sparks, bringing both of them closer to the edge. <<Show me...I need to feel you coming inside me, show me how good...>> Lambert watches Aiden quickly unraveling, relishing the loud moans and cries that keep falling from Aiden's lips every time he takes his whole length inside, tremors shaking the strong figure on top of his own. <<Fuck, keep moving like that and I will. Can you come on my cock like this?>> Lambert takes his lips in a bruising kiss, craving to feel his taste again before moving lower to lick at his neck, and Aiden's words go straight to his cock. <<Yes, yes, Gods yes, keep...keeping fucking me like this, fuck this is perfect...>> Aiden's fingers dig into his lover's back, nails leaving moon-shaped marks just above Lambert's shoulder blades as his hips desperately rock down to meet the hard thrusts claiming his body. <<Mine, only mine, my Aiden, fuck, come for me, I wanna see you.>> Aiden's whole body is tensing and twitching as a loud cry leaves his open lips, finally letting go, spilling his release between their bodies in pearly white lines pooling on Lambert's stomach. It takes Lambert only a few more thrusts into his hot clenching hole before his orgasm washes over him, filling his lover's body and gasping against the reddened skin of Aiden's neck.

He falls back on the bed, Aiden slumped forward on his chest with a silly smile on his face, and laying there contented is all they can do for now. It's a while before they can string thoughts, let alone words, together, both still coming down from their height. <<Lambert? I'll let you fuck me again if you admit that you were jealous.>> Aiden says it in the most innocent voice ever, and it shouldn't be possible coming from someone that looks so thoroughly fucked. Lambert just growls at him, his brain still refusing to work properly. <<Oh you little shit, can't you just drop it?>> Aiden curls up next to him, fingers drawing imaginary patterns connecting the scars on his chest. <<Careful love, I was under the impression you liked this ass.>> Aiden pretends to miss the words his Wolf just said, only because he knows he can and he will get away with it. <<What was that, pup? Was somebody jealous?>> Aiden smiles before scratching his nails over the sensitive skin on the inside of Lambert's thigh. <<Fine, fine, I was jealous, happy now kitty?>> <<Depends. Are you up for another round?>> Lambert rolls them over, giving a silent thank for the only one blessing brought by the mutagens in their blood. <<With you, always. I mean, have you seen you?>> Aiden spreads his legs open invitingly before arching under him. <<Then I'm very happy.>>

#the witcher #lambden #lambert x aiden #the witcher fanfiction #aiden x lambert #witcher lambert #witcher aiden #the witcher fandom #fanfic #smut #fanfiction #I really hope it's not terrible #I tried my best #I'm sorry

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