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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Dappled Play

Summary- 1.6k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. You are currently sunbathing on the back deck when Steve comes looking for you. Warnings- some suggestive hints.

A/N- This is really just nothing but fluff for the Shifters. I have been working on some heavy dark stuff and needed just something more upbeat to focus on today. So this is really just in the moment writing, nothing has been picked over and edited. Much Love Always! Happy Howling! 🐺💙

The Pack Masterlist

Sunlight dappled through the trees surrounding the back deck, sparse brilliant bits of light painted across your skin as you lounged in one of the alpine deck chairs Steve had scattered around. Your feet were kicked back onto the railing, freshly painted toes wiggling to dry while you had your head tilted back and eyes closed, letting your senses drift from right where you were.

The fresh water of the lake smelled tempting, the water lapping on the rocky shore and against the dock was calling your name as the day warmed. On another beach you could hear the laughter of other pack mates playing with one another, the occasional splash as someone jumped into the cool depths from the rope swing someone risked installing. On your own deck was a multitude of visitors scurrying back and forth, taking advantage of the spread of seeds you scattered along the railing this morning.

Chatter from above let you know your squirrel was at war with the chipmunks right now for the seed you had scattered around. Occasional flutter of wings let you know one of your songbirds had come out of hiding. When you peered over your sunglasses to see, a multitude of evening grosbeaks, nuthatches and purple finches were scattered across your deck. On the railing by your feet a Blue Jay wandered closer, cocking his head in interest at your wiggling baby blue toes.

“Try it mister and you will be a snack.” You growled softly and kicked out your foot enough to send him fluttering away with a squawk of disgust at you ruining his fun. From behind you, you heard a deep chuckle and a tilt of your head showed Steve leaning in the doorway leading to the bedroom, wiping his hands dry off on a hand towel, bits of water still caught in his beard and ran down his bare chest from where he had just gotten changed and cleaned up. You could tell just looking at him that he had been in the garage, the scent of oil and metal mixing with his natural scent. It made you inhale sharply, the Little Wolf sniggering in the depths of your mind.

Always...

<Don’t worry, you are just as distracting to him.>

That’s the plan.

“If you want, I will fight that jay off for you, just to preserve your honor Little One.” Steve stepped out onto the deck, leaning over to press a affectionate kiss on your lips, his warm palm sliding along the curve of your neck and tracing your bonding mark. “But you really seem to have it handled.”

“Well he might come back.” You lift your sunglasses off and set them aside while Steve went to sit in a neighboring chair. “If he does, I will call you, right away.” Your Alpha rumbled from his chest in approval and you grinned at the praise. “Already done for the day?”

Steve let his gaze fall from you, head tilted back into the bit of sun streaming to cut through the shade. “Time for a break. Sam was starting to get on my nerves talking numbers and that truck isn't going anywhere while we have the engine ripped out of it.” He inhaled deeply, letting the stress of the situation start to melt away. His mothers sentiments dancing on the tip of his tongue before repeating “When the world knocks you down, you get back up... this is nothing but a thing to deal with and I told Sam to quit worrying about it, we will figure it out. We always do.”

You uncurled from your chair and approached Steve, your fingers curling through his longer locks, the sun had started to lighten them back up into that golden color you remember from the day you first saw him. His arm loped around your hips to tug you into his hold, making you straddle his lap so you could drape your arms over his shoulders. “Sounds like he needs to take a page from your book Alpha.” placing a teasing nip at his lips, he tightened his arm around your waist and flushed you in against him, sliding his palms to grip your ass, flexing his hand to grasp a handful of your cheeks.

“He should, why I shut the garage down, for a few hours at least. Besides, I had to come see my best girl, maybe cool off a bit.” His eyes started to grow mischievous, looking you up and down, you could see he was already eyeing the loose tank top you had on and the shorts, contemplating what was underneath them.

“Don’t you dare rip these off Steven, they are my favorite outfit.” You growled out as he plucked at your shirt to look down it, his grin going boyish as he rucked it up over your head. “I promise not to destroy the tank top. But nothing else.” He moved to a stand, hauling you over his shoulder with a loud yelp from you, your hands making a grab at his belt while he started down the wooden stairs towards the deck.

“Whoa Alpha, what are you doing?” You bounce with each bopping down step he takes, one arm wrapped around the back of your thighs, the other feeling at your pockets to dig out your phone and stuff it in his own pocket.

“Going for a swim. It’s hot out, wouldn't you agree?” he gave an appreciative squeeze to a jean clad ass cheek and you wriggled on his shoulder while you swayed over his shoulder.

“Well... my current view is pretty hot.” clasping your hands on the firmest ass you have ever touched, you felt him flex under your hands. That’s when you felt a set of teeth sink into your jeans, making him growl at you. “Did you just bite my ass?”

“It was to tempting to pass up.” He informed you while walking closer to your destination, you started pushing against his back to have him put you down. “Oh no baby, were doing this the right way.”

“Steven Grant Rogers don’t you dare.” You warned him, but his hold was tight and there was no way you were wriggling from out of it. “Don’t you throw me into that lake.” You could hear the Little Wolf’s laughter at your predicament, as well as feel the Alpha joining in on the fun, Steve’s playful nature simmering between you two. You knew his intentions, just as much as he knew you wouldn’t be mad if he did.

In fact, pressing up against Steve had heated you up, he was a sweltering man on a normal day, his heat radiating from him. Now you were plastered to his back and were ready for the cool rush of water. But he couldn’t “know” that, and you pretended to fight him with teasing tickling fingers up his lower back and smacks against that finest ass you have ever seen. “No sex for you if you do!”

“Now that, I’m calling bullshit on Little One.” He barked a laugh and then he swung you around into his arms and gave a gentle toss, sending you flying through the air, squealing till you landed in the water. With a twist underwater, your toes pressed to the bottom, silt and stones rolling under the balls of your feet as you shot back to the surface. Catching sight of his pants coming off and boxer clad Steve soared over you to disappear in a giant splash, making you roll back towards the dock where you could grasp onto the edge, watching for where he might pop up.

You feel him first on your ankle, his fingers dancing up the side of your leg and looking down to see Steve start coming up, his head and shoulders breaking the waters surface while he wrapped his arms around you, knocking you off balance enough to circle your legs around his waist and grab onto his shoulders. He whipped his head a bit to clear of the water, leaving you laughing and sputtering at the water. “You are getting me wet?”

“Wetter then you already are?” He wiggled his brows at you, setting off a flare of heat spiraling through you.

“You seem to have that effect on me? I don’t know why though.” You pop a shrug of your shoulder, making Steve snort in his own laugh, pulling away from the dock so the two of you could float away from the shoreline.

“I keep putting it on my charming personality.” Pressing kisses of heat to your skin, chasing away the water droplets. This was what you loved about Steve, he was just so easy to be with.

To be yourself.

Your Alpha wanted you to challenge him, play, love, feel. You were still learning what that meant, to be genuine. To say that first thing that popped in your mind without repercussions. Never had you gotten to be free in such a way. You nudged at him, brushing your nose against his, whispering against his mouth. “I’m going with its all the good looks.” Challenging as you arched into him, pressing a firm kiss to him.

Steve took it further, dart of his tongue pressing against your mouth and you so willingly accepted him. His hands came to cup your face, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you two sunk into it, dipping back under the water for a moment before he kicked at his legs and sent the two of you back to the surface. You gave another nudge of your nose against his before unwrapping from around him and pushing off, the white strap of your bra and baby blue denim cutoffs blaring against the dark water. You swirled in the water, shooting water at him from between your teeth to squirt in his face.

Steve growled and lunged forward to catch you, the two of you splashing back and forth, trying to keep away from him, darting away with squeals of laughter and cries of alarm. His laughter was booming across the lakes surface, clearly enjoying himself in the moment.

Tags- @jtargaryen18 @what-is-your-plan-today @stardancerluv @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @fckdeusername @onetwo3000 @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @nekoannie-chan @angrythingstarlight @ransoms-sweater-holes @donutloverxo @natasha-romanova-anon @jennmurawski13 @that-damn-girl @rainbowkisses31 @pandaxnienke @verdandi-storm @gotnofucks @kelbabyblue @sagechanoafterdark @archy3001 @aliceaddellheidde @princesssterek @goldenfightergir @autumnrose40 @flannellover67 @itsmycorneroftheinternet @alexakeyloveloki @ayamenimthiriel @irishflutiegirl @mery-be @djeniiscorner @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @rinkashirikitateku @fallenoutofrose @caffiend-queen @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @imboredat2am @bohemian-barbie @farfromtommy @jennmurawski13 @keiva1000 @nightriver99 @nerdygirl8203 @simsadventures @wonderlandfandomkingdom @sp2900 @threeminutesoflife @buckybarney @randomsevans @captainchrisstan @whenescapingdinosaurs @what-is-your-wish @niki-is-a-thing @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @celestialaccords @rosalynshields @everythingisoverrated @spn-marvel-and-more @animegirlgeek @tite-rose @wildmoonflower @smediumsmeatbae @rebloggingeverything @ozarkthedog @kalesrebellion @bostongirl13 @honeybuckybarnes @readermia @buckysteveloki-me @connie326 @beautifulsweetschaos @denisemarieangelina @princesssterek @avantgardium-leviosa @adillard94

#alpha steve rogers #alpha steve x little one #amber writes #sweater writes #fluff #the pack #welcome to the pack

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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stuck with you | yoongi

title: stuck with you pairing: yoongi x reader, taehyung and jimin as side characters genre: fluff request: “Can you do a idol!Min Yoongi of BTS request of his crush being best friends with Jimin and Taehyung and him and his crush consistently fluster the other but they never realize until one day he does and finally make as move despite everyone telling them for weeks that they like each other?” word count: 3.3k warnings: some cursing, mentions of the pandemic a/n: i’ve been actively avoiding writing anything concerning the pandemic/lockdown cuz let’s be real, we’re all here to have fun, not think about real-life shit...but i decided to try it here

i wasn’t sure how to write their living arrangements tho since most of them seem to have their own places? so i just used the hannam the hill house for reference 🤪

“How have things been for you guys lately?”

Taehyung and Jimin exchange skeptical looks with each other, which you don’t catch because you’re too busy picking over your food.

“We’ve all been stuck in the same damn place for weeks now, so you tell me.” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head.

You visiting their house right before the stay-at-home mandate was issued ended up with the three of you—plus Yoongi, to your luck—being cooped up in the same house for almost two weeks now. It wasn’t wholly a bad thing, since you got to be with your two best friends, but living with three men was pretty much as messy as you’d expected it to be. “Wow. Never thought we’d run out of things to talk about.”

Jimin tries to humor you. “Things have been fine, you know...same as always. Except for Yoongi-hyung acting like a lovesick weirdo. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you…?” Jimin feigns an innocent look.

You look up from your plate. “A lovesick weirdo for who?”

“We’ve been through this like 20 times already, Y/N,” Jimin sighs.

“Yes, and every time I tell you you must have the wrong person because that makes no sense whatsoever.”

“He’s lovesick over you,” Taehyung reiterates, like you didn’t catch the gist the first time around.

“I don’t think Yoongi likes me.” You shake your head and make a face at the notion of it, trying to disguise your irritation at them constantly trying to provoke your emotions.

“Why not? There’s a lot to like about you, don’t downgrade yourself.” Jimin insists.

“He doesn’t even act like he does. If anything, he gets all odd around me.”

“That’s just how he is,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his chair. “You’d think you’d start to catch onto this after being here for so long, but…”

“No, she’s too busy being too embarrassed and intimidated to even get within 4 meters of him.” Jimin and Taehyung both giggle at that, and you shake your head.

“You guys are like little schoolkids. How many more big tales are you going to think up before our quarantine lifts? You could probably write a book by the end.”

Taehyung shrugs, putting his arms behind his head. “I might do that, as long as you let me make you and hyung the star-crossed lovers who are too dumb to tell each other how they feel.” He stretches his leg under the table to nudge your shin with his toes, knowing how you hate when he puts his bare feet on you, and he cackles when you protest loudly.

“Will you stop trying to get my hopes up for nothing—?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Yoongi steps out onto the terrace with the three of you a few minutes later. He shields his eyes against the sun’s sudden brightness after he slides open the glass door, holding his other arm up.

“Look who’s appeared!” Jimin says excitedly, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

“You’re loud,” Yoongi grumbles, though he’s mostly speaking to Taehyung and Jimin. “I can hear you laughing from downstairs.” Your body tenses up and melts all at the same time, and suddenly you feel like you don’t know how to do anything right—like hold your chopsticks correctly. They shoot out of your hand when you try to use them again and hit the patio floor. You look at them forlornly.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, a smile fluttering across his lips at your clumsy actions.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine.” You can only glance back at him, embarrassed that you’ve made yourself look like a clown. Jimin laughs like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing on Earth. You shake your head and push away from the table, wanting—no, needing—a quick exit. “I’ll just find some more of those…”

Jimin shakes himself free of his sudden bout of laughter and jumps at the opportunity. “Wait, I’ll get them for you.” He bolts up from the chair before you can even think about it and goes back into the house, already planning to take his sweet time on his mission to get you new chopsticks. Taehyung picks up the hint almost instantly.

Yoongi turns back to the doorway after Jimin disappears through it, his movements a few beats too late—as if he’s just now realizing the other man left. “What was that about—”

“Oh shit!” Taehyung’s exclamation cuts into Yoongi’s question. In a sweeping motion, Taehyung “accidentally” elbows your water off the table, sending the bottle splashing out onto the patio in sad little streams. You jerk away from the splash, but the water droplets have already gotten you.

“What the hell?!”

Taehyung shrugs like it was inevitable and gives a sheepish smile. There’s an undeniable scheme lingering in his eyes, though. “Looks like I’ll have to get you another one.” He stands up to get your aforementioned water, though you begin to form the idea that you’re not getting any water at all.

You sigh and rub your fingers across your forehead. The heat of the sun has turned from pleasant to uncomfortable, and you don’t even have your water to take the edge off. Great.

Yoongi turns back to you, his eyebrows creased. “That was weird.”

“They’re just trying to…” Force us together? You’re too embarrassed to say anything like that, and your words trail off in a stammer. Why did they ever think this would be a good idea? Yoongi raises his eyebrows in curiosity at your bitten-off answer. “An-anyway, that doesn’t matter. So...what are you doing out here?”

Yoongi shrugs, smirking slightly. “Well, I do live here.”

You snort to cover the way your stomach cuts a flip at his smirk, and you reach for your food in a nervous gesture before you remember your chopsticks are still gone. “You sorta seem like a vampire, though. I’m surprised you came out to get some sun.”

Yoongi mulls over that thought. “Hmm…a vampire, huh?” He runs a hand through his pitch-black hair, and even though the gesture is just an afterthought, it makes your heart skip a beat. You almost want to roll your eyes at your reaction to that simple movement. “Don’t tell me you were one of those obsessive Twilight fans over a decade ago.”

“And if I was?”

“Would you enjoy being bitten by a vampire?” Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, and you ducking your head into your hands doesn’t help the flaming embarrassment. “Fuck, that was stupid—sorry.” Your shoulders are shaking with laughter, and even though it’d be cute in another context, he feels like he’s about to combust. So he decides to make a run for it. Maybe a cowardly move on his part, but it seems like the best one right now.

“Hyung, you can’t be serious—” Jimin calls out to Yoongi as the older man brushes past once he gets back indoors, but the other man tries his best to ignore Jimin as a blush crawls up his neck. “Go back and tell her. It was the perfect moment!”

“There’s gonna be a lot more of that mess until we can leave,” Taehyung says, peering through the glass at your now confused expression and shaking his head. “God, one of them needs to say something before I lose my mind.”

Like Taehyung predicted, there’s a lot more of “that mess” over the next week. You and Yoongi continue to tip-toe around each other, unsure of how to appropriately handle each other and never unable to shake the awkwardness that colors every interaction.

The most notable incident of all, however, occurs when Yoongi does his laundry one day and somehow finds a pair of your underwear mixed in with his clothes after taking them out of the dryer. How the hell did they even get there, and how did he not notice them before?

Bound to his usual fierce overthinking, he stands there for a few long moments, wondering what he should do. Obviously, the only answer would be to return them to you. But then what if you think that’s weird, him somehow having your underwear? Or what if you assume he’s some pervert who’d taken your panties on purpose?

And to his great luck, that’s precisely when you walk into the laundry room. You give him a timid smile and greeting, which melts away into pure embarrassment when you see him standing there as if he’d just been framed for murder—and your deep red panties sitting in his laundry pile.

Yoongi’s gaze darts between the laundry and your eyes, his jaw working aimlessly as he tries to come up with something that makes sense.

He decides on “I didn’t know they were there,” though this feels just as inadequate as it sounds.

“M-maybe I threw them in the wrong bin,” you rush out, and in the same breath you cross the room to practically snatch them out of the pile of his clothes. You know you couldn’t have done it, though, which leads your mind back to those two sneaky men who’ve been trying to exercise their terrible matchmaking skills as of late.

“A-ah, yeah—maybe,” Yoongi agrees half-heartedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You both pause for what feels like an eternity, for a reason you can’t decipher, and you think you might burst from the sheer discomfort of it all. “Well—th-thanks. One less thing to wash, I guess.” You try to laugh, but the sound comes out high and forced. Similarly, Yoongi’s answering smile is tight around the corners.

The next few days after that, you are both unable to maintain any kind of eye contact. Taehyung and Jimin are endlessly amused by the way you and the older man dance around each other like two ghosts struggling to inhabit the same space.

You make up for it slightly by turning all of Jimin’s white shirts into a splotchy pink once you find out that this was indeed his terrible and silly idea.

You’ve been sleeping in Jimin’s and Taehyung’s beds since you’ve been barricaded in their home with them, which none of you really think twice about. You’ve been friends with them for years and don’t see either of them other than platonically, so it’s not awkward for you or them. Although it was originally intended for you to mostly stay in Jimin’s bed, you end up alternating between the two, climbing into whoever’s bed you feel like that particular night. Neither of them mind the switch-up, and Taehyung likes using you as his personal pillow, so it all works out.

If there was anyone who minded at all, it was Yoongi. It wasn’t a burning jealousy, because he knew he had no right to feel like that about you—not when he couldn’t even admit to you that he liked you. But it didn’t make him want to jump for joy to know you were in either of the younger men’s beds, even just as friends.

He spent many nights imagining you were beside him instead, warming the empty spaces of his bed, whispering to him and telling him about your day. It didn’t matter if he already knew everything you did that day because you’d all been living in the same space for weeks. He still wanted to know.

But until either of you made a move, he didn’t know when that would happen. If ever.

He didn’t even know if you’d be interested, or if you saw him the way he saw you. You were never as close to him as you’d been with the other two men, and although that could be explained by you being best friends with them for years, he honestly chalked it up to you not liking him as much. Taehyung and Jimin had tried to tell him the exact opposite several times before, but he wasn’t really convinced. Not with the way you seemed to lock up around him—like if you said or did the wrong thing, he’d hate you forever.

If only you knew he could never feel that way about you.

You decide to sneak your way to the kitchen for a late-night snack one night, your socked feet scuffing quietly on the floor as you make your way to the kitchen. However, your plan is derailed when you run into Yoongi in the hallway, who has apparently just taken a shower. He’s fully clothed—thank God, because you’re not sure how you would’ve survived it otherwise—but the towel on his wet hair speaks to his recent shower. Your immediate response is to jump in surprise, feeling like you’ve been caught red-handed; although there’s no law stopping you from getting something to eat in the middle of the night.

“Oh—Yoongi.”

“You’re still up?” he asks, pulling the towel away from his face so he can see you better.

“Uh, yeah...I was just getting something to eat, I guess.”

“No crime in that. You’re tip-toeing around like you’re nervous about it, though.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” You shrug your shoulders, trying to appear more nonchalant than you really feel. “But I see you’re already up…” Your words trail off behind you as you walk into the kitchen. Yoongi watches your retreating back before making the split-second decision to follow you. He’s not really sure why, previously intending to go back to his own room.

“Were you getting something to eat too?” you ask, turning back to glance at him when you hear his footsteps behind you. You’re admittedly happy at the idea of spending a little more time alone with Yoongi, though you’re still nervous as hell.

It’s probably not the best idea to say I just came because I wanted to be next to you, so he nods to your question. "Uh, sure, I guess. What were you gonna get?”

“I don’t really know, just whatever’s in here…” You open the fridge and stare into it absentmindedly, your eyes raking over the food but not really seeing it—not with Yoongi’s presence hovering behind you.

Eventually you settle on some leftover rice and kimchi—which there’s always plenty of—not wanting to expend too much energy on cooking anything new.

You and Yoongi sit at the table together, using the light of your phone’s flashlight and the under-cabinet lights to illuminate the room instead of the overhead. Maybe it’s a little strange, but you like the ambiance of it more than having the harsh overhead light on.

The room is quiet for a while as you both eat, which you don’t initially mind. But you can’t ignore how Yoongi keeps stealing glances at you, like you aren’t going to notice, like he isn’t sitting right in front of you where you can see. It makes you antsy, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Is something up?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on your half-empty bowls, too nervous to look straight at him.

He hums like he’s thinking intently about it. Then he decides to rip the band-aid off and says, “You’re always tense around me.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles at your short response. “Why?”

You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, and you hesitate. “Well, you’re always weird around me. Why is that?”

“Touché.” Another tense pause where he thinks of what to say, and then, “Jimin and Taehyung swear you like me.”

You try not to react so obviously, but your spoon clatters against the side of the bowl. If he’s acting weird because of the idea of you liking him, how can it be possible that he returns the feelings? Maybe he doesn’t know how to let you down easily. You suddenly feel ridiculous, like you’ve been wasting your emotions on nothing. “...I see.”

“I thought they were...trying to play some game. But, since you’re here now...is it true?”

Maybe if you close your eyes hard enough, you can poof yourself out of existence. If you felt trapped before, you really are now. You blurt out the first thing you can think of, trying to save yourself.

“Before you think I’m stupid for liking you, you should know they’ve been saying the same thing to me about you. So. Yeah.”

Yoongi looks at you full-on. “They told you I like you?” A nervous grin fixes itself on his lips, which makes you second-guess yourself. At this point, your head and heart are tangled in a knot. Why does your love life have to be this difficult? “So that’s it, then.”

“What is?”

“We like each other.” That makes your heart rate pick up. “...and didn’t even figure it out until just now, despite everyone else’s ‘help’.”

You take a shaky breath. “You like me.”

Yoongi nods, glancing between his hands on the table and your face. “I should’ve said it sooner.”

Despite yourself, you feel the corners of your mouth twitch into a slight smile—one that’s colored with relief and a tinge of lingering nervousness. “Later is better than never, I guess.” You find yourself laughing from the way all your stress slowly unwinds itself from your body, and Yoongi joins you, his eyes sparkling in the dark.

“So. This means we’re dating now, right?”

“I hope this isn’t considered our first date.” You snort, looking around the kitchen.

Yoongi shakes his head, placing his cheek in his hand with a sleepy smile. “I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice...after the pandemic is over.”

“We might be waiting a while, then.” Finished with your food, you go to quickly wash the dishes in the sink, and Yoongi slides in next to you to do the same. Another silence falls over the two of you, but for the first time, it’s not uncomfortable or pulled taut with words unsaid.

When you finish, Yoongi leans against the counter, his eyes openly tracing over you, wearing just a big T-shirt and shorts. It’s a simple outfit, but it warms his heart.

“Come sleep with me,” he says suddenly. You crack an awkward smile at that, and he’s blushing before the last syllable even leaves his lips, because he understands how that sounds. “I mean, actually sleep. It’s late.”

You pretend to hesitate on it. “I don’t know, Taehyung might miss me…”

“Taehyung and Jimin have had you all to themselves the past few weeks. It’s my turn now.”

And with that, you let him take your hand and guide you back to his room, maneuvering carefully through the dark house. His bed is new to you, but it’s instantly comfortable—like home. The smell of him surrounds you, as does his arms when he pulls you closer. You smile against the fabric of his shirt as you tuck your face into his chest, his chin on top of your head.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his fingers curling around your shoulder. His voice is soft and low, already halfway to sleep.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

#yoongi fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #bts fic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #suga imagines #suga fic #suga scenarios #suga fluff #ambw kpop #ambw #ambw fic #ambw fluff #ambw scenarios #ambw imagines

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 3 years

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Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe) words: 3.5k

a/n: ah the sweet sweet smell of mutual pining. also 3 more chapters are planned, not written yet though bc i just decided i’d be writing them lmao. hopefully can get started on that this weekend and post them next week 🤗

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie @oikawasbooty @chocolate3010 @sugawarabby @greenyiplier @kritiiiii @tokyosdawn @youstydiaa @h3llok1ttygirl

one | two

Chapter Three

“You want me to help you with what?” You ask, a bit stunned when he showed up at the door, a terribly annoying but also cute pleading expression on his face.

He groans, his shoulders hunching forward in exasperation. “Ya really gunna make me repeat it?”

You peer closer at the top of his head and see that he’s being serious. The roots of his hair growing in are a dark brown and it had never even occurred to you that he dyes his hair the blonde color you’re so used to. “No, but why do you need my help?”

This is so embarrassing. Normally his roommate or a teammate can help him but none of them are available today and he’s already let the roots grow longer than he likes. But when one of them suggested you help him out instead, something inside him rebelled. For some reason, the thought of having you dye his hair for him made him uncomfortable, like he’s showing you an intimate part of him. This hair has been a part of him so long he can’t remember the last time he’d let it grow out.

“I can’t see if I got everything,” he admits. It took a lot of pacing around his room and staring at his roots for him to get up the courage to come over here to ask you. He can’t really explain why he was so against it, especially since you don’t seem to mind after you got over the initial shock of realizing this isn’t his natural hair.

A wave of relief washes over him when you sigh, conceding, “Alright. Just let me change into something I can get bleach on. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

While he waits for you, he busies himself with mixing the dye together so it’s ready for you, and when you arrive in a t-shirt and shorts with paint splatters all over them, he mentally kicks himself for thinking about how even wearing something so simple you still look better than anyone he’s ever seen. Crossing your arms, you motion for him to take a seat at his desk. Before he does so, he reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment, it taking you a second to process that he’s now standing before you shirtless and you’re free to ogle his muscular chest and arms to your hearts content. He doesn’t pay any attention to you, knowing if he meets your gaze, he won’t be able to stop the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. Instead, he wraps a towel around his waist to protect his shorts and sits in the chair to wait for you.

Except now, you have free reign to stare at his back, which is just as defined as the front of him and you need a few more seconds to reel your thoughts back.

“Whaddya waitin’ for darling?” He drawls, throwing you a glance over his shoulder, not expecting you to be standing there frozen, eyes pinned to his now bare chest.

He opens his mouth to tease you further, but your eyes snap to his and you practically shout, “Do you have another towel?” He just cocks a brow and then points to his closet where another towel is hanging on a hook. Snatching it, you return to him and drape it over his shoulders, hiding most of his annoyingly toned body. “Don’t want to get any bleach on your skin,” you explain, no way in hell ever admitting to him that you’re finding it hard to focus with him on display like that.

Absentmindedly, he hands you one of the clips he bought a long time ago, one that’s almost completely bleached itself and you start running your fingers through his hair to section it. He closes his eyes, focusing intently on the soothing sensation of your fingers on his scalp, doing his best not to groan out loud at how good it feels. With anyone else, this isn’t anything special, normally he sits as patiently as he can whilst trying not to annoy whoever is doing his hair (lest they decide to ‘mess up’ as punishment). But with you, it’s a different feeling entirely.

It's jarringly intimate as you clip his hair back and reach over him to grab the plastic gloves that came with the dye. Lathering up the applicator brush, you start slathering it onto his hair, trying your hardest to make sure it’s evenly distributed and surrounding each strand. As you do so, you ask, “How long have you been doing this?”

He resists the urge to shrug, not wanting to jostle you, replying, “Osamu and I started in middle school.”

“Osamu dyes his hair too?”

“Yeah, he goes for gray. But I’d heard blondes have more fun so—here we are.”

He grits his teeth as your fingers skim over his scalp, glad for the towel you wrapped around him to hide the goosebumps skittering along his bare skin.

“Let me guess,” you muse. “You guys did it because people couldn’t tell you apart?”

“That,” he laughs, “And we thought it would look cool. The first time we did it, it looked like shit.”

Your answering laugh warms his heart as you unclip a section of hair and keep working. “I can’t imagine your mom being too happy about it.”

“Livid. We got bleach everywhere.”

You laugh, continuing to move through his hair methodically. It doesn’t take very long as you’re just dying his roots and they weren’t that bad to begin with, contrary to what Atsumu thinks. When you finish, he gives you a sheepish look and has to swallow his pride to ask you to help him wash it out. Every time he’s tried to do it himself, he always ends up leaving a huge chunk of bleach somewhere.

You oblige, following him to the bathroom, not bothering to care about the looks you get along the way. If they want to stare at a shirtless Atsumu and then glare at you for having that all to yourself, that’s their prerogative. It does wonders for your confidence, regardless that all of this is a ruse.

Luckily, the bathroom is empty and Atsumu dutifully bends over the sink to let you start washing the dye out of his hair. He’s immensely grateful his eyes are shut, and his face is shoved into the sink to hide his flushed cheeks as he thoroughly enjoys your fingers running through his hair. The sensation of your fingernails lightly scraping over his scalp makes him ball his fists as he has to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds.

You’re unbothered, until you notice the towel has slipped from his shoulders and with the way he’s bracing himself against the counter every muscle in his back and arms is on display for you to see. It’s an effort to continue your task as if nothing is wrong and force yourself to look off into the distance instead of eyeing him up.

It’s no easy feat. Especially when you finish and he rises, scrubbing at his face with the discarded towel before moving on to his hair. You press your lips into a firm line and let yourself indulge just a little bit looking at the way his muscles flex with the movement, droplets from his damp hair trailing down the planes of his chest towards the waistband of his shorts and—your attention is broken at the sound of him chuckling and you snap your gaze to his.

You find him staring at you with mischief sparkling in his eyes, so you speak before he can tease you. “Is that it?”

“We have to actually dye it now.”

“Oh.” You turn on your heels desperate to escape his gaze. “Let’s go then.” A smirk plays across his lips, but he refrains from teasing you, solely because he very much enjoyed the way you were looking at him and doesn’t want you to stop.

And yeah—sue him if he thinks about your hands in his hair for the rest of the day. In the end, he might be a little grateful no one else was available to help him.

When mid-semester break arrives, it comes as a surprise that you actually miss each other. What surprises you even further, is that he’s the one to bring it up. Within the first night, he video calls you, a sheepish expression on his face, explaining he needed someone to complain to.

“What do you mean?” You teased. “Sounds like you’re getting stuffed with good food from Osamu and you have plenty to brag about.” You winked, smiling devilishly at him and pointing to yourself. You’re only joking. Slightly. You aren’t sure what will come about if he tells his family about you, or if that’s even a good idea. It’d be much easier to break this off cleanly without the involvement of each other’s families.

He sighs, flopping down on his bed and scrubbing his face with one hand. “They’re just dyin’ to meet you now.”

Your brows lift, half-expecting him to have tried to keep this a secret. “You told them?”

“I wasn’t gunna,” he explains. “But apparently some college sports news channel caught um—,” he coughs awkwardly, remembering very vividly this day, yet the two of you haven’t acknowledged it since. “Our—uh—celebration.”

Eyes widening, you stare at him a moment before the both of you burst out laughing. Between your giggles you manage to say, “Oops.”

Laughing alongside you, he grins, despite the pang in his heart at the voice in his head desperately trying to remind him all of this isn’t real. You aren’t his girlfriend and the moment all of this ends, you probably won’t bat an eye at him ever again. He hates how much that hurts.

Forging onward towards his demise he discloses, “I am now a very proud owner of a very jealous brother now, so thank you.”

That only makes you keep grinning, setting a hand on your cheek and dramatically saying, “What? Of little ol’ me?”

He fights the urge to tell you that yes—jealous of little ol’ you. The girl who is slowly becoming the girl of his dreams. The beautiful, funny girl who deals with him and everything that comes with him. He swallows all that, keeping the mood and saying, “He refuses to let me try any of his onigiri. A crime, really.”

“Of the highest caliber,” you agree, stifling your laughter. “Though I’m sure you steal some when he isn’t looking.”

“Yeah, but he caught me and hit me on the head with his spoon.”

“How dare he. Lucky for me, my family is clueless.”

“What do they think yer doin’ right now then?”

Shrugging you say, “I told them I had a project to work on with a classmate. Which isn’t entirely a lie, I do have a project to work on. But someone interrupted.”

He smirks. “Wonder who that could be.”

“Beats me.” His responding grin does something to you that’s been happening a lot more frequently lately. Making you feel like all the air has been punched out of you and like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Though, you’ve gotten quite good at hiding it.

In the distance, you hear someone calling his name. He panics, it’s bad enough his family knows about you now, but he isn’t sure if he’s ready for them to meet you. Especially Osamu, who he has the sinking feeling is already suspicious of this. It’ll be a miracle if he can slip this by him.

“Gotta go!” He says quickly, and before he ends the call, he hears you chuckle and say, “Beware the spoon.”

Every day his situation only gets worse.

The next night he can’t get Osamu off his back. Enough that when he tries to retreat to his bedroom to give you a call, pathetically missing you again, Osamu bursts in when he’s about two minutes into the video call with you. He tries to shove him out, embarrassed and afraid Osamu will see straight through him. But Osamu is stubborn, and he hears you laughing on the other end of the call before saying, “Aww, Atsumu won’t you at least let me try to charm the pants off him?”

He grits his teeth, the thought that he wants you to charm the pants off of him, not his brother flitting through his head before he can stop it. But he relents, letting Osamu sit backwards on his desk chair to join the conversation.

He isn’t sure how, but somehow you get Osamu to believe this is real in a matter of minutes. You have him laughing and talking about culinary school and he almost feels jealous that your attention is now on Osamu instead of him. It’s a ridiculous notion, he knows it, but it doesn’t stop him from keeping the camera on him as much as possible.

When the call ends, Osamu looks at him seriously, and for a moment Atsumu thinks he’s just been pretending to believe you this entire time. However, he breaks into a smile and smacks him on the back saying, “Got yerself a keeper, there.”

Atsumu tries to grin with as much sincerity as he can. Yeah—he knows he does. But that isn’t going to stop this from ending.

That night, both of you go to bed feeling like you’re getting in too deep.

And as per usual, when school starts back up again, neither of you bring it up. You’re happy to keep ignoring it, hating yourself for liking this arrangement and him more and more every day. It sad really, how much time in your day is spent thinking about him. Wondering if there’s any possibility that the two of you could just transition to a real relationship. Because to you, that’s already what this is. Nothing would change, but at least you’d stop feeling guilty every time you enjoy his hand in yours or the soft press of his lips to the top of your head.

A few days after returning to school, you find yourself alone with him in his dorm room studying. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a textbook while you lay on his bed, head propped up by an elbow. You can feel your eyes drooping, the words blurring together, it becoming harder and harder to stay awake. His bed is too comfortable and smells overwhelmingly like him, a scent you’ve come to enjoy every time you’re pressed up against him. A mixture of his body wash and the ever-present faint smell of the volleyball court. Eventually you’re powerless against the solace of sleep.

When Atsumu notices you, his heart jumps into his throat. You look so serene and peaceful, your chest rising and falling ever so slightly, part of him wants to crawl in beside you and press his face into your neck and fall asleep right along with you.

But he too has begun to feel like this game has gone too far. The moment he had to tell his family, lie to Osamu, he knew he’d crossed a line. It isn’t fair to you. No longer does he need to pretend for his teammates that he can have a serious relationship, there isn’t a reason to torture himself and keep you tied to him anymore.

Yet, thinking about not being without you, no longer eating lunch together, studying together, or having you in the stands at his games wrenches his heart in such a way he actually feels like it’s crumpling inside his chest. He hasn’t been able to admit it, but at some point along the way, he thinks he fell in love with you. And it just hurts too much to keep pretending. Especially when you’re only doing this for peace and quiet during your showers.

For you, he shouldn’t drag this on any longer.

So, a couple days later, you texted him telling him you were in the library and can join him anytime if he wants. A harmless text, one you’ve sent him many times since this whole thing started, but this one makes his heart sink. Knowing this is the opportunity he’s been waiting for to talk to you. He tries to not think about it, trying to let volleyball take over his thoughts, but it’s futile. All he can think about is saying those words to you, and how it’s quite possibly going to utterly destroy him.

But you take it well, as he expects, squashing the hope that you might feel something for him too.

That night in the library feels particularly lonely. There’s no quick-witted remark from the boy who carved himself a place in your life, no one there to make you laugh when you’re struggling with a problem. Instead, you’re met with nothing but the darkness and silence of the library. It’s almost too much to bear, and once the silence starts closing in on you—you force yourself to leave, refusing to let yourself wallow.

The next weeks are hard. He never imagined that he’d think that after all of this was over. He keeps showering in the mornings to avoid you and uphold the deal you two struck months ago. He ignores the empty hole in his chest when he eats lunch without you, or studies late alone. The most jarring thing is your absence at his games. He constantly finds himself searching the crowd for your face, before remembering you won’t be there. He misses that intense gaze he could always feel on his back, the one that kept him awake at night when he let his thoughts run wild.

He feels as though something has been ripped from his life, leaving nothing but a gaping hole behind that seems intent on devouring him whole.

The same can be said for you.

Who knew you’d ever miss his teasing remarks while you shower? Or miss how you could complain to him endlessly about classes and then have him comfort you in the warm solace of his arms? Even the little things like walking to class together, now that you do it alone, it feels like there’s something missing.

The two you go on like that, thinking of the other every night before sleeping, tossing and turning with the thought of what could have been.

And eventually, you reach the point where you’re over it. Over pining after him day after day, peering out your door to make sure he isn’t around, or taking detours just to avoid him in the hallways. You’re over it. Enough that you’re willing to swallow your pride and confess to him, even if he doesn’t feel the same way—maybe you can fucking move on then.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you stomp to his dorm room, his roommate opening the door; his eyes widening upon seeing you. Immediately, he grabs his keys saying into the room, “I forgot I need to go to the store Atsumu, see you later.”

He leaves no time for Atsumu to protest, out the door in a matter of moments, leaving you standing in the doorway. Atsumu is just sitting in his desk chair, looking dumfounded at you, having fully expected to never see you again.

The gears in his head grind to a halt as you say, “This is stupid.”

He gives you a bewildered look, unsure what exactly you mean by that.

You steel your courage and press on. “I like you. And you like me. I think. And all this pretending that we don’t is stupid.”

After a few moments, his lips curve into a smile, the mischievous one you used to hate but now feel relief seeing. He can’t help the joy building in his chest at your confession. How many sleepless nights thinking about this very moment did he endure?

“You said it,” he teases.

Despite giving him a look, you do nothing to stop the grin rising to your lips. “Well, it didn’t seem like you were going to.”

His smile only widens, and he motions you into the room. “Get yer butt over here already.”

You move on instinct, striding into the room and climbing into his lap, settling your legs on either side of his you wrap your arms around his neck. The overwhelming sense that yes—this is exactly where you want to be, washes over you. He smirks up at you, his large hands resting at your waist, waiting for your next move.

“I can’t believe I actually missed that stupid smirk,” you say, lowering your lips to his, fingers slipping into the short hair at the base of his neck.

His smile hasn’t faltered, muttering against your lips teasing, “Does this mean I can shower at night again?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, but he smothers it in another kiss and refuses to let go.

#miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenario #miya atsumu reader insert #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu

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straightlikewetspaghetti · 3 years

Text

The Princess and the Knight

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Kingsley/Hughes)

Warnings: Mature themes, mention of death

Word count: 5391

A/N: I tried to fit the whole book into one chapter, so it's controlled chaos.

@cloud9in

"Where has that girl gone with my little tarts."

In the afternoon there was quite a commotion in the royal kitchen, as for some unexplained reasons, the tarts specially prepared for the royal afternoon tea, were going missing. The servants were accusing each other, pointing out which one of them was the biggest glutton or which one had recently gained the most weight. Such behavior among servants was not surprising. No one there trusted each other, but everyone knew how to pretend. It was sad, but what the king and queen do not know, they do not regret.

The truth turned out to be different and when the eldest of them, Ina, was left alone in the kitchen, she waited a moment and looked towards the window where the tarts were cooling down. The place was chosen deliberately by her, because she knew exactly how to catch thieves in the act. It wasn't long before the two little hands blindly began to reach for the treats, but this time they were caught by the older woman.

"Gotcha rascals." saying this, Ina pulled the thieves carefully through the window, discovering it was none other than her daughter and future princess. "Princess Poppy, Bea, you know very well what I think of your food escapades." even though she tried to sound threatening, her voice was very docile. She loved these children too much, even if Bea was not her own and Poppy was a future princess.

"Ina! How did you know it was us?" Bea asked innocently, grinning from ear to ear, unaware that her lips were covered in crumbs. Her little smile always made the hard work Ina had at the castle, worth it. She was proud of her, even if Bea was a little troublemaker.

The woman shook her head and laughed briefly, wiping her daughter's mouth with a tissue. "Your giggling can be heard from the hallway, I really have no idea how the rest of the servants didn't figure it out."

"The rest of them don't know us as well as you do." said Poppy, who had been sitting quietly until then. Her whole face was covered with a blush, and her eyes were fixed on the tips of her shoes. She looked ashamed of her act and this childlike innocence, caught the older woman by the heart.

A gentle smile entered Ina's face. It always surprised her how the Queen's daughter addressed her, with such respect, when she herself was higher up in the hierarchy. "You can call me Ina, princess." the woman reached into her apron for the cookies and gave them each one. "Come on, get out of here."

Bea saluted with a wide grin and, with the cookie in her mouth, pulled her friend along with her, who surprised, almost fell onto the countertop. Ina smiled to herself seeing the bond that brought the two girls together. They needed each other more than they could have hoped for, but that wasn't her story to tell.

When the two of them were outside, they looked at each other and burst out laughing thunderously, almost spitting cookie crumbs at each other. Falling on the soft green grass, they grabbed their stomachs almost unable to catch their breath. They couldn't have known that moments like this, would be worth their weight in gold.

"I need to learn to sneak better if I want to become a knight." Bea said contentedly, extending her hand toward the sky as if she had a sword in it. She looked between her fingers at the almost clear sky, imagining her parents looking at her with pride and faith.

Ever since Bea learned how to speak, she had only repeated that she wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps and become the best knight in the entire kingdom.

Unfortunately, she never got to meet them.

Her mother died in childbirth and her father died soon after, defending the honor of the kingdom. She was looked after by the eldest of the servants, Ina Kingsley. The woman always told her stories of her parents' lives, how her father was the bravest of the knights of the royal guard and her mother the best strategist.

This made little Bea feel any kind of bond with her family.

"I want to be a knight too!" cried Poppy behind her, mimicking her posture and almost falling down as the dress she was in, restricted her movements. She hated the clothes, but as a future queen, her opinion was worth as much as nothing. She knew that once she became a queen, that would have to change.

Bea giggled as she looked at her friend and nodded. "You can't be a knight. You're a princess."

Poppy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, thrusting her breast forward. She could be anything she wanted, she was a princess after all. But as colorful as it sounded in practice it had no such benefits. Being a princess meant being locked in a golden cage, like some exotic bird.

And she couldn't wait to finally break free.

As the queen combed her hair to sleep, she always said how important it was for Poppy to get an education so she could follow in her footsteps and rule the kingdom. That wasn't what the blonde wanted, the vision of having power was never something important to her. For her, the most important thing was the moments she spent in the company of her best friend and the opportunity to change her kingdom for the better.

"I want to be a knight like you Bea, and explore the world with you."

At those words, the brunette turned towards the blonde and a radiant smile graced her lips. She was sure of Poppy like no one else, but the words she spoke touched her deeply, enough to settle a pleasant feeling in her stomach, that she hadn't felt since her father's death. In a flash, she hugged her tightly and wouldn't let go for any reason.

A short time later, Bea pulled away from her and extended a small finger in her direction. "I, Bea Kingsley, promise to be by your side until death."

Poppy looked stunned at her friend, who was looking at her for the first time with such apparent seriousness. She felt like tears were coming to her eyes, but not of sadness, but of happiness. The way Bea was devoted to her and expected nothing in return, always grabbed her heart, even if they were still children. The brunette would always have a special place in her heart and even if it sounded selfish, she would be able to go to the ends of earth for her.

She reached out her finger and linked it with Bea's, almost choking from the happiness that was engulfing her. "I Poppy Min Sinclair promise, to be by your side until death."

The wind that was blowing around them stopped and a blissful calm descended on the world around them. Everything became meaningless as they stood like that with fingers intertwined, making their fates forever linked.

***

"Do you ever get your nose out of those books, princess?"

Poppy blinked a few times and, adjusting her glasses, looked over to where the familiar voice was coming from. She saw a wryly smiling Bea, who was in the middle of sparring with one of her friends, who was also training to become a knight. The blonde automatically ran her eyes over the girl's muscular stomach, which glistened with droplets of sweat in the sunlight, making Poppy's throat turn to a desert. Her brown hair in total disarray framed her face, sticking in places to her face reddened from exertion.

"Give her highness a rest Kingsley and focus on the fight." her companion groaned with visible annoyance on her face.

"Zoey, I would beat you even with my eyes closed." Bea bared her teeth in an even bigger smile and winked at her best friend. She managed to notice the blonde bury her face deeper into the book, before Zoey's blade sunk into her own, knocking her off balance.

"Would that mean..." replied Zoey viciously, as she slashed at Bea's legs in one motion, causing her to fall to the hard ground with a bang. She put the tip of the blade to her throat, and a smirk appeared on her face. "That you lost?"

Bea rolled her eyes, catching the hand extended towards her and efficiently rising to a standing position. Shaking off the dust, her gaze remained fixed on the blushing blonde, who continued her reading as if nothing had happened. She knew Poppy was watching her. She'd be lying if she said that wasn't her intention. The thought of the blonde watching her, put her in a very pleasant mood.

Zoey grunted significantly, reviving her in a flash.

"Let go of Kingsley, before it's too late. She's a princess and you're barely a knight." there was no malice in her voice, it was the truth in them, that hurt the brunette so badly.

But at that moment, Bea didn't give a damn

Ignoring the black-haired girl, she ran over to Poppy and with a nimble move, she squatted next to her on the bench, making the blonde's personal space no longer exist. It was their thing. Crossing their comfort zones.

"Would it hurt you if you used more grace?" Poppy grimaced, not taking her eyes off the words on the paper, which had become extremely difficult. She drew in a deep breath and it was a mistake, because the smell of the pine trees mixed with sweat hit her nostrils, almost breaking her composure.

"You love it." Bea's words were bold, and spoken in her peculiar way, almost in a half-whisper, made the hair on the blonde's arms stand up. The brunette's chest rose and fell in a rhythm, that the blonde had in her head each time she felt Bea's breast brush against her shoulder.

"I certainly do not." she grunted, trying to put some distance between her and Bea, which was nearly impossible, with the brunette's sweaty body clinging to her clothes. She was not a girl of great faith, but at this point she began to pray for her own sanity. Poppy was really trying to focus on her lecture, but in this situation her thoughts were just buzzing. The sight of Bea, sweaty from exertion, standing in the sunlight like a goddess, was carved into her memory and now she was right next to her, literally at arm's length.

Her thoughts really were unladylike at that moment.

Before she had time to say or do anything, she heard quiet snoring. Bea managed to fall asleep, snuggling into her shoulder. With a careful motion, she combed through the brunette's hair with her fingers, letting the strands fall freely over her shoulder. Even if sweaty, her hair was incredibly soft. Her face looked so peaceful that it moved something in Poppy and her face curved into a serene smile.

Maybe she do love it.

***

"I hereby knight thee Bea of the House Hughes. Lift thy sword high and use it for the glory of the Kingdom of Belvoir!" the great castle hall echoed with shrieks and clapping so loud, that they could wake the dead. People shouted the names of the new knights, not caring that their king and queen were looking at them.

Bea had waited her whole life for those words and now that it was happening, she couldn't believe it. She felt an incredible joy inside her and even something like a strange warmth, that she recognized as her parents' pride from above. Everything she had dreamed of was at her fingertips.

Everything but one thing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Poppy looking at her with the biggest smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She looked phenomenal, even if her cheeks were covered with streams of tears and her skin was reddened. Right behind her, Bea could hear her mother blowing her nose, and in that moment she was overwhelmed with pride.

Things began to look promising.

***

The ballroom was huge and there was general splendor. There was food all around. Musicians pouring out all their soul, getting people in the mood. All the inhabitants of the Belvoir kingdom were invited to the castle without exception, as tonight's feast was for everyone. Today everyone was treated as equals, regardless of their background or wealth. The king and queen would never have agreed to this, if not for the influential play of a particular blonde.

Poppy was determined to find Bea in the crowd, which seemed almost impossible in the prevailing hustle and bustle. She moved among the people with regal grace, forgetting for a moment that as a future princess, all she had to do was say one word. She found her near the snack table absorbed in conversation with her fellow knights.

"And then I told her, don't worry the hay can be easily pulled out of... Oh princess." Zoey stopped in mid sentence and bowed seeing the blonde.

Bea turned her head to see the satisfied blonde slip her hand under her arm and tug lightly on it. She looked spectacular in her ball gown and stood out among the people attending the party. Or maybe she always stood out in her eyes. Either way, Poppy looked so good, that next to her in her armor, Bea felt like a slacker.

"Can I steal her for a few moments?" even if Poppy asked, she was already in the process of dragging Bea to the parquet floor, ignoring the strange looks of people around her.

Zoey sighed deeply while leaning against the shoulder of Alex, who was standing next to her and also looked mortified. They both knew they wouldn't be able to protect Bea, but they could always hope that the brunette herself would mature enough, to see that the feelings she had for Poppy, weren't enough to form a relationship.

"One of them is going to end up with a broken heart."

Poppy's laughter echoed around the room as she twirled in the embrace of the equally contented brunette. Her dress rose and fell freely, mesmerizing anyone who looked at her. Bea, despite the uncomfortable outfit, tried her best to fit the blonde. She didn't even realize that it wasn't the clothes that always made them fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Bea was aware of the stares people were giving them. Some jealous, some just outraged how a princess could dance with a mere knight. She tried her best to ignore them, but one look in particular made her hair stand on end.

"I get the impression that Lord Carter feels like poking my eyes out with the spoon he's currently eating." Bea arched Poppy's body, by tilting her back slightly and letting her see exactly what she was talking about.

Poppy just shrugged her shoulders, completely ignoring the murderous look the man was giving them. Focusing her attention only on the brunette in front of her, she leaned towards her mysteriously, making the whole room cease to exist for them.

"Meet me at our place, when the moon is at its highest point in the sky." with those words on her lips, Poppy bowed elegantly and with a hypnotizing sway of her hips, she walked off in the opposite direction, leaving confused Bea alone with her thoughts.

***

Besides the crickets, the silence was pierced by the clatter of hooves on the grass bathed in moonlight. The horse was being ridden by none other than Bea, who with curiosity and undisguised excitement was heading for the place where she would meet Poppy. She slowed down her horse, as she began to see a silhouette sitting with its back to her in the distance, under a familiar tree.

"Poppy." she said as if to make sure it was definitely her. When the blonde turned toward her and gave her one of her smiles, her heart beat harder. "What is the meaning of..." her words were interrupted when the blonde closed her mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Instinctively, she reached for the blonde's waist, catching it and earning a quiet moan of approval from her throat. On the one hand, she felt an incredible warmth growing inside her, and on the other, a slight embarrassment about the whole situation. When Poppy pulled away from her, they were both red and breathless.

"Where did you even learn that?" the brunette asked, trying to calm her breathing. She touched her lips with her fingertips and felt a slight pain, and for some reason, it was pleasant feeling.

"I read about it in a book." Poppy said without taking her eyes off the brunette still touching herself on her lower lip. It wasn't a lie. When she was old enough, she found books in the library, about love and passion, that she had never known before. With each novel she read, the desire to experience it grew in her, and slowly she began to understand, that what the characters felt, she felt herself.

Bea looked at Poppy with undisguised interest. She felt that this kiss was just a foretaste of what she could experience, but she wasn't sure, if she was ready for it. And worse, she didn't want to disappoint Poppy with her lack of experience. "Show me more." she said, before she could bite her tongue.

Poppy perked up upon hearing those words and her eyes grew misty. She bit her lower lip, as she brought her lips close to the skin on the brunette's neck. She could feel the girl standing in front of her shaking all over, so for reassurance she grabbed her hand with one hand and placed the other on her neck. The contrast between Poppy's hot hand and the cool skin of Bea's neck was incredible, which aroused the blonde even more.

She pressed her lips carefully against her skin, feeling the brunette's pulse quicken instantly. A quiet whine came to her ears that felt like music to her. Faster and faster, a lust was building in her body, which she fought off with increasing difficulty. She felt as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life, right there with Bea, in the clearing, where they shared every bit of news, good or bad, with each other.

When Poppy pressed in a little harder, Bea's legs gave way under her and she pulled them both to the ground, her body lessening the momentum with which Poppy would have hit the ground. After a moment of silence, they both burst out laughing, just as they used to do when they were children. This time, however, Bea slipped her hand into the blonde's hair, causing her to fall instantly silent. The air was getting heavier and heavier and the unspoken words were begging to come out.

"Let me make love to you tonight."

It was hard to tell which one of them said that sentence, or maybe they both did, but in the flurry of scattered clothes, only moaning and panting could be heard. They did whatever their instincts told them to do, sucking, kissing, biting, touching every newfound spot on their bodies. Whatever boundary of shame they had between them, crumbled like a house of cards, making their two bodies become one.

That night neither of them would forget for the rest of their lives.

***

"I think I love you." Bea said thoughtlessly, surprising herself with what she said. The words were rather rushed and she should have thought about them more, but in the spur of the moment, she couldn't do otherwise. Poppy's body tensed in her embrace and Bea felt the weight of the dark clouds that began to appear in the sky, on her skin

After a brief moment, Poppy got off the ground and began nervously throwing her clothes on, almost completely confusing their sides. Bea watched this with visible surprise on her face. She rose from the ground, feeling a sudden chill sweep over her entire body, and following in the blonde's footsteps, she too got dressed. She could feel the storm approaching.

"Bea..." Poppy began in a tone that froze the blood in Bea's veins. The blonde grabbed her head and dropped it low, letting strands of hair cover her face. She looked like she was trying everything to get away from the brunette, even though the she was literally standing in front of her. The air between them was getting heavier and not in that pleasant way. "I'm engaged."

Bea felt the ground slip out from under her feet. As if someone had taken her heart and thrown it to the dogs to eat. As if someone had plunged a hundred knives into her, and she couldn't just die. Whatever words she had in her head dissipated, because while she was ready for anything, she wasn't ready for this one.

They didn't speak a word to each other again that night.

***

"I'm so sorry about your mother Poppy." Bea's voice was sincere despite the pain she'd been carrying inside her since that memorable night, but she loved the blonde so much that she could push away all her negative feelings, just to be there for her. She embraced her tightly and squeezed her petite figure which was shaking from crying.

Her heart though already broken before, was breaking again as she heard the blonde's quiet sobs into her shoulder. The assassination of the queen was so unexpected, that the kingdom couldn't assimilate the situation for a long time. The king locked himself in his chamber immersed in his despair, and Poppy's future husband took care of the kingdom.

"Isn't that adorable." the brunette would recognize that hate-filled voice anywhere and her hands reflexively tightened on the blonde. She hated this man with all her might and not just because he had taken the love of her life from her, but because he was a tyrant and no one could see that but her.

"Lord Carter." she bowed trying not to contort her face too much.

"Prince Carter to you, plebeian dog." he loved hearing his voice, especially when he was oppressing the people around him. He was a devil in human skin, masquerading perfectly among the common folk. People adored him, but behind closed doors there were no more illusions. "You can speak only when asked to."

"Carter please." Poppy begged, trying to appeal to a soft side of him, that she knew he didn't have. She couldn't idly watch as the person she loved most in the world was oppressed, just for being alive. Even though she knew it wouldn't do anything, she was aware that Bea could see that Poppy was making an effort for her. She believed that one day she would forgive her.

Bea looked at Poppy and made it clear to her that the blonde should let go of whatever she was doing. To her inner distaste, she gave in and bowed again. "Forgive me, Prince." the words burned in her throat, but she couldn't fight him alone. She looked again at the blonde, whose expression was unreadable. "I'll see you later, your highness." she turned on her heel and with a springy step began to walk away, when a loud rubbishy laugh ripped into her.

"I don't think so, lovebirds." his laugh seeped venom all the way into the brunette's bones, making her feel almost physical pain. His face looked like that of a maniac, who was preparing to commit a terrible act. "I'm sending Bea to the front, along with the rest of the knights."

Bea closed her eyes and sighed as quietly as she could. It was what she had always wanted after all, to defend the kingdom, but why did the vision of fulfilling her duty not bring her as much joy as it had as a child? She turned towards the prince and looked at him, ignoring the terrified blonde who was covering her mouth with her hand.

"You can't!" escaped Poppy's lips before she clamped her hand over her mouth again, but Carter only smiled unsympathetically and sent an icy stare in the brunette's direction.

"Well, I can. Bea as a knight has a duty to the kingdom that she is unlikely to want to break." with those words he locked her in a trap, crushing her spirit and cutting off her wings. He was aware of what he was doing, of how much he was destroying her, but it spurred him on, gave him strength to live, he fed on the suffering of others, and who would give him more of it than the would-be lover of his future wife?

Bea saluted and, ignoring the burning pain throughout her body this time, she left the hallway, leaving Poppy and Carter alone. The man turned to his future wife and slapped her on the cheek, the smack echoing through the empty room.

"You will not disrespect me in the presence of servants." he growled at her, causing her to curl even more into herself. There was not an ounce of pity in him, let alone compassion. "Your frivolity will get you both killed."

***

In the evening fog at the castle gate, Bea was unable to see anything. Even as she tried to stretch her senses to the limit, she felt as if she were limited. She hated that feeling. She hated feeling at all. She stroked the snoot of her horse, which stood beside her, waiting for the sign to set off. The only creature that remained loyal to her.

The rest of the knights were getting ready in the garrison, only she was standing guard for practically no reason. Maybe in her sick mind, she was trying to punish herself for being reckless and not thinking about the consequences. She heard a rustle behind her and not thinking much she drew her sword towards where it was coming from.

"I could have killed you." she sighed, seeing that on the end of her blade was none other than Poppy. The blonde looked exhausted and confused, but Bea was in the same state, maybe that's why she didn't feel any strong sympathy.

"Maybe you should." she spoke up calmly, not even flinching, as she felt the blade touch her throat. She was tired. So tired that the vision of life no longer mattered to her. Not when the only person she had left, was about to leave her for certain death.

Bea sheathed the sword and stepping away from her horse she approached Poppy. Without any emotion on her face, she placed her hand on the blonde's face, who involuntarily nuzzled into her. It was the first warmth Bea had felt in a long time and somewhere deep down she felt a growing longing.

The blonde sighed on the verge of crying, her breathing breaking, almost nearing the end. She tried to stay neutral but couldn't do it any longer. Without thinking much she jumped closer to the brunette and locked her lips in a kiss. She felt a momentary resistance, but Bea didn't want to fight anymore either, returning the kiss and pouring everything, she had felt during this time of being separated, into it.

"I can't..." Poppy mumbled between kisses, wanting to get something off her chest but unable to pull away from the brunette. "I can't lose you like I lost my mother." she didn't even notice when tears started to fall from her eyes. Bea carefully kissed away every single drop, making the renewed pain that was settling inside her less painful.

Bea pressed her forehead against the blonde's allowing herself a moment of weakness. She slipped her hand under her armor and took a moment to fumble around in it, pulling out a necklace. She carefully placed it on the unsuspecting blonde, who had her eyes closed in contemplation.

"It's the only thing I have left of my parents." the brunette whispered quietly, not wanting to scare Poppy. "I want you by touching this, to always feel the warmth of my touch. By looking at this, to always see those eyes looking at you with adoration. By knowing about this, to remember that there was someone in the world who loved you sincerely."

***

How many sleepless nights it had been, Poppy couldn't count. Between her agony and the lack of meaning in her life, she had no occupation. She locked herself in her chamber, knowing that her fiancé would take care of everything anyway and not needing her at all, not that she needed him herself.

Her father awakened from his grief at the perfect time for her to plunge into hers. Instinctively, she grabbed the necklace that had always been with her. It was like a talisman, the only thing keeping her alive. The last spark of hope that she would come back and teach her to love again.

A messenger ran into her room unannounced and nearly passed out from lack of air. She rose from her seat and looked at the man with compassion.

"Princess... Is... Answer..." the man could barely catch his breath, which worried Poppy, who sensed that the information he had, must be really important. "Knight Bea... Is dead."

No one remembers what was louder, the scream of agony she gave out of herself, or the impact with which the man fell.

Promise to be by your side until death...

***

She hated being his accessory. Every time he embraced her, she felt a million worms come out of his sleeve and get under her skin. She was sick of it, but she could no longer ignore her responsibilities. The lives of thousands of people depended on her actions. She had been deaf to their pleas long enough.

So at the ball her father had organized, she tried to mingle with the crowd, listen to requests, offer advice, and apologize to those who had suffered. She felt she had failed her mother, but she was ready to change that. She was ready to prove to Bea that she was not weak. Bea. That name quivered in her head too often, echoing and making her bleed. She didn't forget, she didn't want to forget, she remembered, she couldn't remember. Everything she felt tangled with each other in endless knots that tightened inside her.

She was sure that she had managed to process her grief, but at the thought of it, tears threatened to flow from her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying not to look suspicious. Fortunately, her subjects were too busy with their free appetizers to pay attention to her.

The doors to the ballroom opened with a bang and the sounds of clanging armor could be heard. Everyone looked towards where the commotion was coming from and were stunned. At the head of the gathering was none other than the much lamented Bea Kingsley.

"Traitor!" she shouted, aiming an arrow straight at Carter's heart, who fell stiffly to the ground, drenched in his own blood. She dropped the bow and pulled out a paper with trembling hands, which she lifted high into the air. "This letter is proof of treason! Prince Carter plotted and he was responsible for the Queen's murder!" Bea handed the piece of paper to the first better citizen, who squirmed and passed it to the next, until the letter reached the King, who looked at his son-in-law's body and spat on it showing no respect.

The king began to announce something, but everything around Bea fell silent as her eyes met a familiar warm brown. With the remnants of her strength, she began walking slowly towards her. The blonde did the same. The gawkers who stood between the two parted to give them more room, watching the whole situation with commitment. Bea reached out to touch Poppy's cheek with a trembling hand. The familiar warmth gave her strength.

"You are just as beautiful as the day we made love under the stars and the day I had to leave." she said boldly, her eyes glittering with the emotion that had taken over her entire body. She had forgotten the exhaustion, the betrayal, and the hardships that had accompanied her. All that mattered now was the woman standing before her. The woman whose fate she had been bound to since childhood.

Poppy burst out crying as she cuddled into the brunette's body as tightly as she could. She couldn't believe she had her back after all these years. All of them full of pain and agony seemed nonexistent. "I love you. I love you so much." she whispered like a mantra unable to stop, afraid that she was about to disappear.

Bea chuckled, the sound so familiar from their childhood and yet so distant. "I love you too."

#poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #zoey wade #ina kingsley #queen b #qb #choices fic #choices #playchoices

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lilravenswritings · 3 years

Text

Waves of my Heart

A commission I did for the wonderful @witchesconstellation <3

Thank you so much for letting me work with your ocs and give them the honeymoon they deserve!

Oc: Keira Shepard (Merit), Jules Merit

A day at the beach

2k Words

********

Beautiful scarlet strands floated in the air behind the pale woman running along the sand, her laughter a melody of music Jules never wanted to live without again. The sound of the crashing waves beside them deafening, splashing tiny droplets of water onto their feet.

Jules ran after his wife, his joy palpable, overwhelming. To be with her at this moment, knowing they had each other for the rest of their lives, everything felt right in the world.

The sun had just begun it’s descent towards the horizon, bringing with it a light breeze. Keira’s black cover up danced with the wind.

Catching up to her easily, he lifted her, spinning around dramatically. Keira squealed, clutching tight to his shoulders. Feet safely planted back on the ground, she pressed her lips against his gently.

This kiss was no different from the others before it, a fire melting ice, an earthquake cracking a foundation, a firework lighting the night sky. Jules could feel how much his wife loved him whenever they joined like this; she put her whole weight behind it, cupping the back of his neck like she never wanted to be apart.

“You were right,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. A questioning hum vibrated through her, eyes shut. “The beach is definitely the best place to spend our honeymoon.”

Her cheeky grin could have lit up a thousand night skies. “I told you so.” They pulled apart, her melted chocolate eyes searching him, amused.

I don’t deserve her. The knowledge crashed through him every time they shared a tender moment. He watched as her love twisted to sorrow.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled into it. “Jules, there is nobody in the world I would rather be with. You are everything to me, don’t let your doubt get in the way of that.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation; she’d always find a way to let him know. Still, the little voice in his head never stopped trying to bring him down. “I know.”

Another chaste kiss, a tug of his hand, and Keira was able to, mostly, dispel the thoughts. She chatted animatedly about the wedding, all the cards they had gotten, and how sweet they all were. How it was so very lovely to see their families together at the reception.

She described how it felt to walk down the aisle and see him standing there, handsome in his suit and tie. How emotional it made her to know they were seconds away from belonging to each other. How their first dance made her feel, and how the song they danced to would always be her favorite for the rest of eternity.

A deep flush colored her cheeks, making her light freckles stand out. Their hands stayed connected throughout the walk back to their belongings; Jules kissed the top of hers every so often. She couldn’t hide her shy smile whenever he did, biting her lip and looking at the sand at their feet.

“I love you, Jules.” He startled at the words, having been deep in thought. She didn’t look at him to know he had heard her. It was just something she knew he knew, never even questioning whether it was obvious or not.

Keira loved him, and she was his Mrs. Merit. He beamed, pulling her close to wrap and arm around her shoulder. “I love you, my wife.”

She kissed his chest, warmth spreading through him at the action. “Let’s go swimming?” She suggested, turning them towards the water before the question had even been fully revealed. He followed obediently; why would he ever say no?

Water splashed everywhere as she lunged in, instantly diving beneath the water. Juled meandered in after her, moving much, much slower to adjust to the cooler temperature. Keira scoffed, throwing water at him playfully. His eyes went wide, he stumbled backwards. “Hey-!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not that bad! Get in here,” she laughed, hitting the water at him again.

A sound of disbelief flowed off of him. Oh, you’re in for it now.” Keira squealed as he dove into her, tackling her under the water. She sputtered when they came back up, Jules’ arms wrapped around hers. Water dripped from their hair into their lashes.

They both cackled, peppered kisses shared between them before Keira puledl him back into the water. Using her feet to kick off of him, she had hoped for a quick getaway.

He caught hold of her foot last minute, tugging her back. He lifted her into the air, goosebumps rising along their skin as the air hit them. She giggled, struggling to loose his grip. “Jules, I’m cold. Come on, let me go!”

“Oh, you’re cold? Here, let me help you with that.”

Understanding immediately, Keira squirmed roughly. “No, no don’t you-” He let her go, tossing her into the water kicking and screaming. A loud gasp echoed around them as she emerged, amusement tickling her voice when she shouted: “Jules!”

“What?” He mocked with a grin. “You said you were cold.” She kicked water at him again.

Later, as Keira laid with her back pressed against Jules on their beach chair, they watched as the sky bled from blue to yellow, to orange, to purple, eventually turning into the black of night; stars shone bright without the lights of the city to dull their glow.

“Look!” Keira shouted, pointing up. “A shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”

Jules placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything I could ever want and more is right here beside me.”

He could just imagine the blush spreading across her cheeks as she swatted him. “That was so cheesy.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over her freckled shoulder. “I wish to always be this happy with you.”

A satisfied sigh of agreement grazed over her. “You’re right, I wish for that too.” His voice turned soft, quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment. “And that was way cheesier than mine.”

“Not even close!” She scoffed. Then, turning so she could get a good look at him, she asked: “Do you want kids?”

Chewing his lip in thought, he pondered this. Did he want kids? He could picture them, sure. A little girl with Keira’s bright red hair and freckles swinging back and forth on a little playset in their backyard, eyes as blue as his pinched in joy. A brown headed little boy teetering down the stairs to run into Jules’ arms. A ghost of a smile danced over his lips. “With you? Yeah, I’d have them all.”

Her answering grin turned his limbs to mush. “I think we should get a dog too. Maybe a beagle? Although a fish might be the best thing for the kids for the first couple of years.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, we just got married. Let’s finish our honeymoon first, yeah?”

Her laugh was girlish and teasing all at the same time. “I know, I was just messing with you.” She paused, eyes drifting over his shoulder in thought. “Although, I would like to know where you see us living in a few years.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, eyes catching on her full lips. “I think a nice ranch style home, with a big fenced in yard for the kids to run around in. A big enough porch for us to sit on one of those swings and watch them, maybe even go out at night to look at the stars. A flower bed on both sides of the steps. No rose bushes, though. I don’t want the kids to get pricked. Maybe some trees in the yard, and a hammock.”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Hey, slow down. We just got married.” Her brown eyes glinted, mischievous but oh so soft at the thought of their future together. His arms tightened around her. He snuggled into her neck, breathing in the soothing scent of coconut mixed with salt from the ocean.

“You’re right, but I can’t help it. I look at you and imagine it all. Imagine our house, our yard, our kids. I think about the adventures we’re going to have, all the places I want to see with you by my side. I think about the mundane things, like cooking you breakfast on Mother’s Day, dancing with you in the kitchen after we’ve put the kids to bed, helping you do laundry even though you know I like my pants folded a certain way.”

She cleared her throat; Jules knew she was holding back tears. “And yet a pet is too much to handle?”

He snorted. “I’m thinking about our kids! Who knows if they’re going to be allergic, or if they’re even going to like the fish. And a beagle? Kind of small, don’t you think? How about something bigger, like a german shepherd-”

“Oh, nice-”

“-or even a husky? A dog to protect the home if I’m away,” he continued, speaking over her remark.

Keira pursed her lips in thought. “I guess we could get a german shepherd and name him Shepard, like my last name.”

“You’re old name,” Jules corrected.

A rush of air came out her nose; laughter. “My old name,” she conceded. She kissed his nose, nuzzled it with hers. “Let’s go down to the water and try to build sandcastles.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Right now? It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Exactly! How many people can say that they’ve built sandcastles on the beach at night?” Before Jules could even think to respond, she remarked: “Not a whole lot of people, that’s who.” Her head bobbed in triumph, confident in her decision. How could he ever tell her no?

They walked across the sand, so much cooler now that the sun had been down for hours. The wind held a little more bite. A shiver ran down Jules’ spine.

“That one should go here,” Keira ordered after they had settled in their spot, plopping down a lump of wet sand on the spot she had picked out. “That will be the guard tower. And here, this will be the barracks. Oh, and we can’t forget the moat, who’d have a castle without a moat? That’s just idiotic.”

He’d never get used to the way his heart would swell over these simple moments. How, during even the most mundane of tasks, just being near her, hearing her talk, he’d instantly think I love you, I will never stop loving you, you have my heart.

“Okay! I think we’re ready for the flag now, don’t you my love?”

Swallowing, he put the fabric into her open palm. “Absolutely.” His voice sounded hoarse. She proudly placed it on top, standing to see the finished product. The castle looked… Horrible, if Jules had to be honest. Multiple places were already falling in on itself, the water from the moat overflowing and collapsing it from the bottom.

He’d never tell her though, especially as she pouted and looked to him for comfort. He pulled her into his embrace, instead looking over the beautiful ocean view.

“Look love, you can see the moonlight reflected on the water like it’s right here for us to touch.” He let his fingers drag across the skin along her spine. “I never thought about the fact that you’d be able to see the stars in the water as well.”

“Huh, I don’t think I ever have either.” She hummed, impressed by the revelation. It was one of the many things he loved about her, the way she was always eager and willing to learn anything she possibly could. She drank in information faster than a dehydrated animal, and it was never enough.

Clouds were slowly starting to form in the sky, crossing over the moon to leave them in total darkness for longer than a few seconds. “I think… We should probably get back to the hotel,” he offered, head tilting.

His wife sighed, “I guess we should.” His attention turned to her, inquisitive. She rushed on. “I’m not ready to go home yet. I want to stay on this vacation for the rest of our lives.”

“I want that too,” he whispered. “But we are needed back home. Besides, if we stay here, who will take care of our children? We can’t just leave them with the dog every day.”

She laughed hard, lightly bumping his shoulder with her head. Oh, shut it.”

His grin was infectious. “Never. You’re stuck with me, Keira Merit.”

#my writings #commissions #commissions open #asks open #others ocs #fluff without plot #fiction #oc: keira shepard #oc: jules merit #writing commissions #thank you so much for letting me write with them again!#I hope you enjoy it <3

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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years

Text

Two scientists, one goal, and a list of procedures

Hi! I wrote this for @averykedavra cause they had a really good point about needing more logicality science fics. I’d like to thank @dramaticsnakes for helping beta-read and some encouragement as well 🥺

Wc: 1.3k

Tws: None? There’s being worried, but it’s mostly fluff

Summary: Logan and Patton were new to performing experiments together, so they started with a classic; elephant toothpaste.

AO3 link

“Alright, Patton, one last run-through of the materials.” Logan slightly adjusted his goggles. His eyes were focused on the checklist on his clipboard.

The moral side smiled to himself as he shifted from one leg to the other from excitement. Logan cleared his throat, “One clean beaker?”

Patton pointed towards the tall glass, “Got it!”

“I see we have the dry yeast,” Logan glanced at the blue and white container that was still sealed. “How about the twenty-nine degrees Celsius water?”

Patton looked at the thermostat in the water, “Twenty-nine? More like it’s looking fine.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “...what?”

Patton fiddled with one of his gloves, “It’s twenty-nine degrees, I honestly didn’t know where I was going with that.”

Logan felt a small smile on his lips, his tone softer than before, “Please take this seriously, Patton. Do we have the liquid dish soap?”

“Yep!”

“3% hydrogen peroxide?”

“Right here,” Patton lifted up a semi-clear bottle with some labeling and waving the liquid around the container.

Logan glanced up, eyebrows knitting together at the way Patton held it, “I know we have gloves on, but be careful with that.”

Patton put the bottle down, “You worry about me too much, Lo.”

Logan seemed to instantly relax when he saw Patton let go of it. “Sometimes I don’t worry enough.” The sentence was quiet in the room. If Patton was even somewhat focused on something else he would’ve missed it.

“Measuring cups and spoons?”

Patton pointed towards the transparent containers with rainbow lines marking the sides, “Check!”

“We have the large tray and the goggles,” Logan furrowed his brow, glancing at his list once again. “I feel like we’re forgetting something…”

Both of them thought for a moment before Patton quietly asked, “I mean, you didn’t say food coloring, but we do have both the bottles.” The small bottles were two different colors, one a light blue while the other was a dark indigo. Sure, the colors represented their usual outfits, but in the end, the two scientists thought they were aesthetically pleasing together.

Logan’s eyes immediately lit up, “That was what I was missing, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, but now, it’s time for science!” Patton grinned, the phrase brought a familiar nostalgia to him. It wasn’t the kind that exactly made you ache for the past, instead, he just wanted to pull Logan closer and enjoy the moment.

Logan quietly chuckled, “It’s time for science.” Logan grabbed a measuring cup, looking at the side to see where to fill it, “Alright, we need this to be filled with the hydrogen peroxide up to the orange mark, can you do that?”

Patton grabbed the white container, slowly pouring the contents into the glass container. He got it to about half-way before putting the hydrogen peroxide down and looking at the glass from a side view, quickly seeing he needed a little more. He put in a small amount and looked at the side again, it seemed close enough this time. “Alright, what’s next?”

Logan read through his clipboard, “Put in a squirt of dish soap and gently swirl them together.” Logan grabbed the dish soap and a measuring spoon he knew they wouldn’t use. He squirted in the soap and slowly stirred the mixture.

“If you want your foam a single color- we agree on the two colors right?” Logan looked away from the piece of paper and to Patton.

Patton nodded, “Yeah, the two different blues.” Although the two blues might mix together for a nice cerulean or cornflower, the colors complimented each other beautifully.

Logan noticed the dish soap and hydrogen peroxide were mixed in by now. “Can you grab me that beaker?”

Patton looked to where he was pointing and grabbed the container, putting it in front of the both of them.

“Thank you, would you like to pour it in?” Logan didn’t push the measuring cup closer to Patton, but he moved his hands away so it could be easily grabbed.

Patton felt excited at the question, “Absolutely!” He might’ve said it too loud, considering it was just them in the room, but Logan didn’t seem upset at him.

He grabbed the container and slowly poured it into the beaker, it was quick enough that the liquid didn’t stick to the sides but slow enough that it wouldn’t splash out.

Logan grabbed both of the bottles of food coloring, “Alright, to make sure the colors don’t mix, we need to add drops along the inside of the bottle’s mouth and let them drip in without mixing.” Logan slightly tilted his head to the side, double-checking the paper, “It doesn’t say to alternate the colors, but I feel like that’s a safe assumption.” Patton nodded at the idea.

Logan handed the indigo bottle to Patton while keeping the sky blue one for himself. “You can go first.”

Patton slightly squeezed the bottle near the rim, seeing the small droplet of dark blue fall down the side of the beaker. Logan followed after placing the light blue a few centimeters away from Patton’s drop.

They alternated colors, a peaceful silence filling the space between the two of them as they went all around the beaker.

Logan had a small smile on his face, “Only two more steps until the best part”

A look of realization came to Logan, “I should probably take this to the sink to not accidentally use it again,” he grabbed the measuring cup that used to hold the hydrogen peroxide and dish soap, his and Patton’s fingers brushing together as he put in the sink, cleaning it out with water.

He dried his hands with a paper towel before turning back to the experiment, taking a short glance at Patton before reading his clipboard. “In a new measuring cup, mix together one tablespoon of yeast and three tablespoons of warm water. Then stir for about thirty seconds.”

Patton grabbed the measuring cup and the container of dry yeast while Logan grabbed two tablespoons and the cup of warm water.

Logan put one of the tablespoons down on the table as he got a tablespoon full of water. Patton grabbed the measuring device and carefully scooped the yeast and dropped it into the measuring cup. There was a small dust cloud that popped up, but seeing how Logan didn’t react, Patton figured it wasn’t detrimental to the experiment.

Logan quickly scooped the water three times, putting it into the measuring cup. He grabbed the last tablespoon nearby and handed it to Patton, “Would you like to stir?”

Patton grabbed the spoon putting out a quick thank you as he stirred the two substances together. He mentally counted the thirty seconds and almost poured it into the beaker before hesitating and looking towards Logan.

He could barely wait for the final reaction. Logan read from his clipboard, “Pour the yeast mixture into the beaker and quickly step back.”

Patton quickly poured the mixture in, stepping back to where Logan was. Logan subtly wrapped his arm around Patton’s waist as the sky blue and indigo striped foam shot out of the beaker. It didn’t shoot high, only a few inches, but Patton grinned in child-like wonder.

After a few seconds, Patton excitedly spoke, “Wait wait wait, how does all of that work? I mean, I know Thomas studied the stuff but- like!!!” Patton took a moment to compose himself. “What- well- what I mean is can you explain it and stuff?”

Logan beamed from this, “You… you want to learn about it?” The words were quiet, but shimmering in a hidden delight.

“Of course!”

There was no malice shown behind Patton’s words. He- he seemed excited at the idea to learn about chemistry. Logan laughed out of disbelief, “Yeah- I mean- yes, yes of course I’ll explain it.”

Patton threw his arms around Logan’s chest, “Thank you.” Patton let out a laugh of relief, “ I may not be the best assistant or student, but I’ll try my best for you.”

“Oh, Patton, you’re the best scientist I’ve ever met.”

#logicality #sanders side fic #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #fluff #uhhhh #there's nothing to really tag lskdfjsdl

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lyricalimerence · 4 years

Text

Colorful Consequences - JJ Maybank

summary: jj dyes his hair after losing a bet

word count: 1718

warnings: a little swearing, just friendship fluff

a/n: this is so cute don't even look at me + and this is for @maybanktho for the concept prompt

*this is how i imagine the color, but he just dyes the fringe/front part of his hair*

It all started with a bet—as most things do between you and JJ. There had to be a prize and a consequence, it was just your friendship dynamic. You two became friends through a competition he set in the fourth grade during recess. You both played on the field, juggling half pumped up soccer balls and booting them into opposite goals, not wanting to get in each other's way. Until he kicked his soccer ball into your goal on purpose, proposing a bet that he could sink a goal from farther away than you could. However, much to his ten-year-old chagrin, you won. He had to eat a hot dog from the cafeteria the next day—the hot dogs were chalky and an abnormal color. You, however, got to be one of his best friends for life. He would say that he got the winning end of that bet in the end, having you by his side for the past six years outweighed the stomachache he had after eating that hotdog.

This time, it was a surfing bet, and, as were getting gloriously used to, you won. His punishment was he had to dye his hair, and your prize was you choosing the color. A schedule wasn’t set for the day you had to become his personal hairdresser, so you were going about your Saturday morning as usual—half hungover and asleep on your couch, not having gotten to your bedroom before passing out the night prior. Your parents were nowhere to be found, probably on the mainland having affairs with rich people for money, or something along those lines—you didn’t particularly care anymore.

The familiar knocking pattern of JJ Maybank, your best friend, slammed into your eyes, almost abrasively as your head throbbed from the alcohol you consumed last night. Once you collected your thoughts together, you were surprised JJ was awake, not being the “up-and-at-em” type in the slightest.

Somehow, you managed to pull yourself off the couch, the crick in your neck loosening as you stretched.

“You look like shit, Y/N,” JJ announced, leaning against the doorframe as you wiped the sleep from your hardly open eyes.

“Thanks for noticing, Sherlock,” you smiled wryly, pushing the hair from your fringe falling over your face. “What’re you doing here? And why are you handling your alcohol so much better than me?”

JJ walked past you, patting your shoulder as he entered your small house, the homey decor and familiar scent of fresh cookies and linen febreze inviting him in with as much vigor as you did the first time he came to your home. “Today is the day, my friend. And, in regards to the whole hungover deal, I so happen to not be a lightweight, unlike some…” he trailed off to glance at your slouched frame, the cuffs of your paper bag denim jeans bunched up around your shins, and the thick strapped tank from Pelican Marina that you chopped the bottom off of, was pushed up around the band of your bra. Normally, you’d be self conscious of how much of your torso was on display, but you were feeling like a dead squirrel, and it wasn't like JJ hadn't seen you in a bikini almost everyday.

Moving towards the couch to refold the blanket you had knocked onto yourself before you fell asleep, you asked, with an increasing amount of pep and clarity, “Today is the day for what?”

“I’m glad you asked, Y/N! You're dying my hair today. Get ready so we can go to the store.” He seemed a bit nervous, his hand instinctively going to the blond pieces of hair that fell as fringe over his forehead. A goofy smile spread across your face as his words sunk in, the leftover cranky drunkenness fading away as you almost jumped in the air as you ran to your bathroom to get ready.

Once you got out of the shower and changed into a t-shirt and shorts, you met JJ back in your family room, his eyes glued to the phone screen in his hand, his eyes tracing over the photo he was looking at. His phone was open to a picture Kie took of you two on the HMS, having been in the midst of a shotgunning competition. Your hair fell in waves, from your ears down it was a light teal color, matching the oceanic background. JJ zoomed in on the picture, scrolling between the bright, superficial hair color to his photographed blond locks. “Hey!” You made him jump, as you leant against the back of the sofa, looking over his shoulder.

“I was thinking this color?” He sounded a little unsure, but as a hair dying veteran, you knew it was just virgin hair jitters. You took pride in having watched enough Brad Mondo, making you think you could do his hair just as well as a hairdresser.

You reached over, swiping so the camera app was open, and you maneuvered your ponytail to lay over his forehead, the pastel turquoise color of your hair covering most of his face, “I think ya look great.”

He jumped off the couch, grumbling about you being a total dork, and to just get the damn car keys. Having completely sobered up, you grabbed the keys to your old pickup truck and all but skipped out the door. JJ, being blond, had such good hair for dying. You had wondered what he’d look like with crazy colored locks multiple times, he had just never agreed until you won the bet.

Once you two had arrived at the store, a wave of air conditioning hit you, pricking at your bare legs and arms. Having been very acquainted with the beauty supply store, you walked straight to the aisle of hair dye, JJ following cluelessly in your wake. The lanyard holding your keychain was tucked in your denim short’s pocket, the ribbon loop brushing your knee as you bent down to pick up a mixing bowl and color application brushes. You looked towards JJ who was watching you with stitched together eyebrows and evident confusion. “These are semi-permanent colors,” you pointed to a section of the shelves, bottles and tubes or paint like hair dyes sprawling out in front of JJ. “Your hair is light enough that it won’t need bleach… so how long are you committed to this merman look, ya think?”

JJ turned his head to look at you, his eyes lazily gazing at your dimpled smile. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

“As you should!” A laugh bounced from your lips as you nodded, pulling two bottles from the shelf of semi-permanent colors, knowing he’d want to be able to change it at some point. “I used this dye for my hair, if that’s what you want.” He nodded and took the bottle from your hand, staring at it with optimistic intrigue. “C’mon,” you motioned for him to follow you to the checkout line where you two split the bill and you teased him with the cashier with whom you were familiar.

Once you drove JJ back to your house—after going through the McDonald’s drive thru because JJ was hungry—you rummaged through your bathroom, stains of pinks, greens, blues, purples, reds, oranges, and blacks danced along the edge of your sink and shower from your previous dye jobs. You threw a blue towel at JJ to wrap around his shoulders, knocking a french fry out of his hand. “Hey, I was eating that.”

You mock pouted at his indignation but stayed silent so you could pour some of the dye into the mixing bowl. Before slipping on plastic gloves, you sectioned out JJ’s hair with old butterfly clips and barrettes he used to make fun of you for wearing in the sixth grade, claiming you were too grown up for hair clips. Although, he was owning the look now, pretending to flip his fringe sassily before you peeled the strands of blond off his forehead.

JJ was swiping through his phone, looking for Spotify before putting on his playlist and drumming on the counter with his fingers to the beat. You had to hold his head still multiple times with one hand, your other hand otherwise occupied with a brush filled with hair dye. Once he calmed down, you started brushing the color on the ends of his fringe, following the sections you had created. By the time you had finished and worked the dye to the roots of his fringe you handed him a mirror. “Whatcha think?”

He stared at the mirror like he was looking at a foreign object. “I mean I like it… Do you think we could stop here, just dye the front pieces?”

You hummed in response, grabbing the now empty plastic bag from the store and tying it just over his hair to incubate it with heat. “Okay, now we wait for thirty minutes.”

“Let's watch Avatar the Last Airbender.” JJ suggested, as you two walked into the main hallway of your small house on The Cut. Responding with a short word of agreement, you watched JJ jump over the couch to sit on it, aiming the remote at the screen.

After your phone beeped, signaling the end of thirty minutes, you had to tear JJ away from the TV, him having become engrossed by Aang’s adventures. Somehow you managed to rinse his hair out in the basin of your shower, adding to the colorful splotches on the rim. He complained about the water being cold then when you warmed it up, he cupped his hand under the faucet and splashed you with it.

Using all your self control, you extinguished the beginnings of a water fight in your bathroom and rinsed all the dye from JJ’s hair.

Shaking his hair like a wet dog, water droplets flying at you, JJ haphazardly dried his hair before looking in the mirror. “Wait, that's actually so good.”

“Really?” You asked through a grin, excited he liked the color. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and squeezed you into his side.

“Yeah, it's awesome, Y/N!” He let go of you just to grab your hand and pull you through your house, “Let’s go show the others.”

Another bet he lost with more than optimal consequences.

tags - click here if you'd like to be added

@ilovejjmaybank @thelocalpogue @calumbroutledge @drew-starkey @jayjaymaebank @prejudic3 @anonymous0writer @rudys-pankow @lovingxjj @apoguecalledjj @write-from-the-heart @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @insanitysparkles @bxllasanosa @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @beatement-l @outerbanksbro @abigailpankow @popcsheyward @mahleeyuh @queenofthebees003 @kaitieskidmore1 @copper-boom @starlightstarkey @joyfulfrappuccino @king-ronnoc @ultranikilove

#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #jj #obx fanfiction #fluff #jj maybank x you #obx jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rudy pankow fic #jj is pop punk king

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rockmiyabideusexmachina · 3 years

Text

2021 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Results

Among the many things this past year or so has tested us with is delays, and I apologize that this year’s Valentine’s Day contest results are included in that. I certainly did not plan on this taking until March to get completed, and I am sincerely sorry to have kept you all waiting. But hopefully it is all worth the wait!!

Thanks once again to every single one of you who participated! I will be contacting the winners soon enough. Work will probably keep me from replying to everyone immediately, but I will send a message about prizes hopefully within 24 hours.

Also, my thanks to @subzeroiceskater for helping out with judging this year. Not to mention the promo pic above and other assorted bonuses that always bring me a big smile. I might say this seemingly every year, but you all made judging this VERY hard. It might have something to do with the themes as well, but I think both of us flipped and rearranged our rankings repeatedly, and even then, it was hard to decide on who would place. XD Each one of you did an amazing job!

After the break, you’ll see the winners for both categories, along with all of the entries. Raffle prize winners will be noted below by their alias, as well.

Category 1: Kiss From a Rosered (Talent)

For our talent category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman characters giving roses to their special someone, along with incorporating the symbolism of specific rose colors within the piece. That rose color was also to be the predominant color within the piece, to the best of your ability.

A grand total of 9 entries were submitted for this category. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE]. Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Sapphire: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oooooh, this is so cute and pink! Piiink~ Ehem. I love the depth, angle, and color grading of these—notice how Roll’s black linework is at the forefront of the pic but colors mixes with the lights and colors from the sun further along the pic. There’s a lot to admire about how everything easy to read with so many competing elements like the similar hues and bright lighting.

Pink roses usually mean a gentler sort of love but did you know that different shades of pink could signify different things as well? A darker shade may mean gratitude; medium shade could be about a first love or congratulations while a light shade may mean admiration. Tron holding a singular pink rose with varying shades of pink while literally tripping over herself and a Servbot could only mean—that this is hilarious.

Miyabi said:

From a technical standpoint, I think your piece clearly felt the most polished, crisp and virtually professional of the bunch. But more than that, I felt it also best gave off the vibe of the rose color dominating the piece, but in very subtle, beautiful ways. Where as the pink sunset causes many of the normally white areas, like Roll’s collar/sleeves, parts of Gustaff, and more, to ooze that pink lighting. Even with her klutziness, you still also portrayed the feeling of sweetness, admiration and appreciation that a pink rose conveys. Just so pretty, calming, and joyful to look at!

2.) Forceway: *$75 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

There is a sort of gentle irony with how Skull Man and Shade Man are both robots modeled after horror symbols—skulls and vampires—but are here surrounded by a soft sea of pink roses. The dark night is often depicted as a primal fear because it hides our deepest fears but here—illuminated by the bright shining moon—the night is transformed into a scene of love—perhaps devotion, with how Shade is gently cradling Skull, as well with the church bell in the background. This is a very tender piece mixing the shadows and the sweet.

Miyabi said:

I know most digital art programs have the brushes and shortcuts to make detailing things like roses a lot easier, but your bed of roses certainly look all done by hand on your own, and that alone impressed me a ton! Based off of the Ariga Megamix tale of Skull Man not feeling appreciated or having a family after Cossack stored him away, I felt the pink roses and Shade showing him that he is actually appreciated here was a fantastic conceptual choice. Purples in the sky and Shade’s body split the canvas and contrast with the pink well, including how you used the pink for some of the stars in the sky. Beautiful job!

3.) DigitallyFanged: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Yellow is a bright color, often evoking the sun, warmth, light, joy and hope. With roses, its positive connotations continue with possible meanings of friendship, care and remembrance. Tabby’s piece seems to evoke the last one the strongest—with Zero, broken and forgotten in a lab—but, not entirely, because of a bond that is stronger than apparent death lives on—even if in this moment, it’s only a memory. Even the roses are not real—just projections of what was once alive. This is fantastic use contrast with the dark, moody blues against the vivid, almost defiant yellows; and the repeated little motifs such as X crying and the water drops falling all over Zero. It stands out from the rest of happy entries with how sad it is but it still manages to be hopeful.

Miyabi said:

Zero’s blonde locks certainly are an iconic part of his design, so playing off of that and focusing on yellow as your rose color fit perfectly. You definitely made this a very emotive piece considering technically, neither of these two are even alive and moving here! As mentioned above, the little details like the water droplets balancing against Cyber Elf X’s tears, the digital lines to make it appear like X has created the cyber-roses for Zero, and Zero’s battle damage caught my eye immediately. You certainly captured the yellow rose symbolism of remembrance and friendly affection beautifully!!

And the rest of the wonderful entries, in alphabetical order by alias:

AbilityField: [Page 1] [Page 2] [Page 3] [Page 4]

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Mega Man Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

It’s so poetic about how this contest theme is about how the language of flowers is used to communicate feelings beyond just using words; and so, the comic is completely silent, relying on actions to convey its meaning. Yellow roses could mean friendship, care and affection; and it’s shown wonderfully with how Iris and Lan are so thoughtful with one another. It’s so cute how Iris missed Lan only because he was already out buying roses for her. Given how hard comics are to make and how this is fully colored, I really wanted to give this first place—however I felt the color usage of yellow could have been stronger, especially with the last page, where it would have had the most impact. I had to squint and zoom out to even see if the lighting had changed. Still, it’s such a very warm and lovely work.

Miyabi said:

I always appreciate the effort people put into making multiple-page comics for these contests, and this is no exception! Even without dialogue, you did a great job at conveying your story through your art in each panel and it was easily understandable. Another utilizing the yellow rose, I certainly felt the friendship and warmth in your tale. As Subzero mentioned, the only thing keeping it from placing was that the yellow colors weren’t as dominant in other areas of the pic, besides the panel by Sal. Still, your coloring was very crisp and vibrant throughout each page, and it was an awesome submission!

aw-colorcat:

Subzeroiceskater said:

With the red for Metal Man, orange for Cut Man and the explosion of yellow flowers, that’s the trifecta of warm colors. Yellow roses could mean delight and this pic is delightful in all ways. Cut looks so cute practically swimming in the sea of flowers and greenery, as does Metal’s adorable expression—which is a feat since he only shows his eyes. I also really like the juxtaposition and balance of this piece from: the rust-brown car against green-yellow nature running wild, and Metal holding a bouquet meanwhile Cut’s covered with plants. It makes me want to get some fresh air myself!

Miyabi said:

Cut Man looks grateful for being able to ride in that pickup bed of flowers, and I have a feeling the two of them had a wonderful time just snipping and sawing away at all the stems to gather them all. XD Love how the yellow and oranges play off of both character’s color schemes nicely. The subtlety of the yellow flowers in the foreground, along with the sun and tree in the background all play off each other well, too! Just an absolutely cute pic!

Dark-Dullahan:

Subzeroiceskater said:

What a fantastic composition. Dark-Dullahan does away with most color, leaving the colors of the mixed-bouquet roses as the main focal point. Classic red for romance, a gentler pink for affection, mixed yellow roses to signify caring and probably so much more—seems like Nana can’t contain her feelings for Massimo. I love how the close up of the bouquet doesn’t just form a kind of heart at the top but serves as the divider between the two, like a diptych. With such a wonderful offering, Massimo would surely accept her feelings.

Miyabi said:

As you brought to my attention, your mixed bouquet had a few different meanings, such as the dark pink representing thanks to Massimo for saving Nana from Silver Horn, and the red tips on the yellow roses to symbolize falling in love. Certainly got those vibes from her shy demeanor, as she sheepishly tries to hand them to him. Also agree with Subzero that the line from the bouquet nicely works as a way to separate them uniquely with the background. Sorry you weren’t able to complete it as fully as you had hoped, but the concept behind it certainly was strong!

Donnie:

Donnie also sent in an alternate version made during the creative process, in a different artistic style, that I still feel needs to be shared, as well. Fun to see the contrast, yet still have the same feeling and mood to the piece.

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oh, I adore this one. It reminds me of a movie poster with the tagline. I love the extra PINK flourishes of the letterings like with the Mega Man logo color change and cute pixelated font and heart. Both Rock and Roll’s expressions are so cute, too—with his more subdued smile contrasted with her exuberant grin. Much like how the pink rose could mean many things like thoughtfulness, cheer or as a show of appreciation, this piece is positively sparkling with affection, hearts and all. It’s clever how the sunset is giving the picture an overall pinkish-red hue while having the yellow light as an outline. A darling piece.

Miyabi said:

With pink roses again, I truly liked the additional hue adjustments where you can feel the warmth and see the lighter pink mixed into their skintone, or areas normally of white - from eyes to teeth to the Megaman logo - that have taken on the pink in it’s place. With the painterly watercolor style you used, it all blends in nicely. Even in your earlier version, I feel you brought a strong game with the hues, but toned down the red from that version to make it feel much stronger towards pink, with a tighter crop of your canvas. It was fun to see how it evolved, and strengthened your piece in doing so! Fabulous job!

DragonMarquise:

Subzeroiceskater said:

No better way to show how madly in love you are than a bouquet of roses that run the gamut of—I can’t call these warm colors because these passions are running hot. Orange seems to be the dominant color here—which in roses could symbolize a love that’s passionate, fierce and deep. It’s also expressed nicely with the two lovers embracing, engaged in mid kiss, their bodies also forming a subtle heart shape, to emphasize the flurry of hearts around them. The bouquet is not just orange roses, however, but a mixed bouquet of the classic romantic red and the more affectionate pink—it’s a piece that’s bursting with all degrees of love.

Miyabi said:

You also certainly mastered the limited color pallette challenge as you tackled this piece! Orange, the color of passion, is certainly felt in their deep kiss and embrace. I too caught the heart shape their heads essentially form, which is then further enforced with the heart of hearts behind them. I thought that concept was pulled off very well. Perfect for the fiery intensity of Match, this turned out to be a very hot pic!

Mattasaurs:

Subzeroiceskater said:

This one has a very clever framing (eh? EH?). The color white is often associated with purity, innocence and hope, and with white roses—weddings and marriage. Sonia dons the classic white wedding dress which has a très élégante design—and the little Lyra on her belt is very cute. The pink background is also very romantic and a nice way to tie in with her theme colors. I dig the lovey-dovey feel of Geo doing the classic bridal carry while clasping a single white rose...but seeing the thorns, I think he better watch his hand!

Miyabi said:

For a theme emphasizing color within the pic, I salute you for taking the biggest challenge in choosing white. In many ways, it could have been the hardest to keep as a predominant color, but still make the pic interesting and visually appealing. Choosing to have the petals all around the frame, with the bouquet nearby was a clever touch. With white often used for weddings and new beginnings, I think the concept of your piece worked just right, where it was subtle, but still incorporated enough other color to give the piece some life.

Category 2: Kawaii-rimi (Humor)

For our humor category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman character gifting the plush form of another Megaman character to their crush, instantly created by a ninja-like character, to play off of the Kawarimi concept from the EXE series.

With just 3 entries in our humor category this time around, every entrant placed. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE]. Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Mattasaurs: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Y’know how blocks of wood are sometimes used by ninjas when they do that whole body switching thing? I think it’s clever how this pic has Sal—Woodman.exe’s operator—conjuring the doll. Everything about the pic is so fun and colorful: from Sal’s mischievous grin of accomplishment, Miyu being completely shocked by her chibi doppelganger (check out that body language!) and Masa’s confused expression.

Miyabi said:

Yes, while to some, Sal might not be the first one they think of when they think ninja in the Megaman Universe, but I certainly thought she still fits the bill in her design. Usually we don’t see this much emotion or shock out of Miyu, so seeing her torque her body, taken aback at a doll of herself, is amusing in it’s own right. Meanwhile, nothing fazes Masa. And a bit of randomness: oh man, seeing Masa’s head in profile, with his bandana...wow, I never realized how much his head shape with the bandana looks like a fish’s. I can’t unsee it now. Anyways, I also agree that the color, polish, and fun vibe made this a worthy winner!

2.) ColeManX: *$75 prize*

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Cutsman Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

E-Eyes? What did you mean by that, Mr. RT-55J? Although judging from the sparkle on those booblights… I understand, Cinnamon—if that happened to me, I’d be making asides to the camera, like I was in “The Office”, too. Cinnamon’s enthusiastic smile with this whole bizarre scene really sells it for me but shoutout to Marino’s smug satisfaction in the background.

Miyabi said:

🎵 I kind of liked it your way How you shyly placed your eyes on me Did you ever know That I had mine on you?🎵

RT says it only has eyes for Cinny right now, but it’s also known to be a little grabby hands, so I don’t know if I’d fully trust it...but good thing this is just a plush version. Time for the tables to be turned, and Cinnamon to get her claws and paws on it, instead. Very cute, although after the DiVE V-Day event, we all know this is a ruse and your pal boobeyes only belongs to the Ferham Fanclub. XD

3.) Ronin-Apprentice: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

This whole comic is so sweet and fluffy, nya! ~(=^‥^)ノ☆ It’s adorable how Proto brings up his gift first and the surprise is how Shadow handmade his gift. The little cat-eared Blues design is so darling--almost as cute as him fussing how totally NOT a cat he is. “Did you steal my cat.” had me snorting. Now I’m wondering where Tango went off to…

Miyabi said:

FU-SION-HA!

Aside from getting his own Super Adaptor, this is probably the closest we’ve got to seeing Tango and Blues merged as one. LOL I’m sure that plush would have a ton of fans wishing it actually existed. The panels where Blues embarrassingly hides behind his scarf and gets pet like a cat had me laughing! Very cute and adorable comic, that certainly had the most depth in terms of the theme of this category!

#Rockman #Megaman #Mega Man #Rock Miyabi's 2021 Megaman Valentine's Day Contest #Fanart Contest

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (A/n- More or less a filler chapter to for a hint of backstory and sexual tension. Welp)

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Warnings- Brief mentions of murder and rape

Chapter 3 Tell Me Your Past.......

Their almost kiss had weighed heavy on John's mind well into the next week. It made him feel guilty, like even if his wife was gone, doing that with someone else would be cheating on her, and worse yet, with someone like Y/n, Helen's polar opposite? He couldn't do that. Helen was good and kind, she was like flowers in spring, but Y/n……...Y/n was like a blazing, untamed fire; chaotic and dangerous. Hot. But he tried not to think about that last part too much.

In the moment, when they were leaning in and she'd seemed more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, it felt like a good idea, he was finally willing to admit the spark she'd ignited when they first met. But when Donavan interrupted, sliding into the vehicle next to her, John had come back to his senses, reminding himself that she wasn't waters that he wanted to charter.

Pushing away the less that professional thoughts about Y/n had only been made harder when John heard them that evening, confirming his suspicions. The echoed sounds were muffled, but his trained ears could hardly miss a thing and John was actually surprised that he hadn't pieced things earlier. Donavan was always so protective, he hovered over Y/n like a watch dog and always seemed to bend at her whim. At first, John had thought that he was, like some of her other workers, loyal to a fault and too scared to oppose her. But there was something in the way he'd put his hand on her back as they walked into a room, and in the way she always let Donavan have the slight bit of say, it was clear she held him in higher esteem than she did the others.

Knowing that Y/n probably had someone else should have deterred John, Donavan didn't really like him anyway, but instead, it had fueled his feelings. He was jealous when she took Donavan's hand as they got out of the car or when he was the one helping her in and out of the coat. Of course, there was no way of telling what the true nature of their relationship was, they didn't appear as affectionate as more conventional couples, but he did know that whatever it was, they were definitely more than friends. After all, friends didn't leave your bedroom at three am with their shirts off and their pants unbuttoned.

The jumble of thoughts had haunted John every night before he succumbed to sleep, and when he'd bumped into Donavan on his way out in the wee hours of Wednesday morning while he'd gone to get some water, things had only gotten worse for him. Usually, it was easy to focus on work and push aside everything else, but that morning, it was easier to think of anything but.

They were running late too, long after John had gotten ready, waiting in the living room for Y/n to emerge, he'd gotten a call from Donavan, asking where they were and why they hadn't reached yet. After a brisk, stiff exchange, John had been the one to disconnect first, easing his cell into his inner breast pocket before sighing as he started down the hall.

His steps were silent, as they usually were and as he drew near Y/n's room, his brows knitted as he realized that her door had been left a crack open. That was odd, she never left her door open. It shouldn't have been possible for someone to get in with him knowing; John knew the inner workings of that place like the back of his hand, upon his employment; he'd re-vetted her staff, linked the hall cameras to his phone and obviously, if something had happened, he would have heard.

Still, everyone was flawed, maybe he'd made a mistake. Thinking the worst, John reached for his gun, holding it at his side as he neared her room, his ears searching for anything out of the ordinary, while his eyes scanned the surroundings. Even at the door, nothing seemed out of place. Though, when John peeked into the room, that was a different story.

She was fine, thankfully and when John's eyes fell on her, Y/n stood in front of the silver framed, full length mirror, the front of her chiffon shirt unbuttoned, her brown leather skirt, tight on her hips and short at it ended above her knees. She was barefoot too, her heels laid out at the foot of the bed, and if John's eyes weren't betraying him, he could have sworn that he saw glassy eyes and a few tears reflected.

Y/n didn't seem to notice, her stare vacate and fixated on her own reflection. Part of him wanted to call out, but most of John’s mind had evaded better sense and he was, for all intents and purposes, leering. Hesitantly, he moistened his lips, his wandered gaze enthralled with her appearance; soft waves framing her face, plump lips agape and perhaps most notably, pert breasts accentuated by black silk and lace. It was wrong to linger like that, practically ogling, but John didn’t think he could help it, he was already entranced.

He stayed like that, half hidden by her barely opened door, though still visible through the sliver, showing no signs of moving. Eventually, Y/n caught on, and she raised her head, locking eyes with him through the mirror, almost daring him to keep staring, especially when she dragged her lower lip between her teeth seductively, carelessly letting her fingers graze the edge of her open blouse, her nails just barely ghosting over the swell of her cleavage and then her stomach, before she finally turned around, moving to close up the top of her shirt.

By the time she was facing him, Y/n had already done the first two buttons and was quickly moving onto the third, any signs of tears now gone, save for the singular droplet that had remained on her cheek. Even that was quickly brushed away though, “Everything okay John?” She quipped as if she hadn’t caught him staring mere seconds ago.

Clearing his throat, John turned his gaze before facing Y/n again. If she was going to pretend that it hadn’t happened, he'd show her that he was better at that game. “Yeah,” he nodded coolly, just remembering he’d taken out his gun and putting it away, “Next time tell me when you’re running late,” he huffed, “And Donavan’s worried about you.”

“I-” Sighing when he abruptly started walking away, Y/n let her hands fall to her sides, not bothering with an explanation as John stalked down the hall and she yelled, “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes!”

The day had been long, and Y/n’s mind had been a weary mess for all of it. By the end, when the sun was just about to retire and the sky had just started taking on a burnt orange color, she’d decided to call it a day, harshly dismissing Donavan’s concerns and offers to accompany her as she left a few hours earlier than she usually did, though, requesting someone else’s company as she neared the waiting car. “Will you go somewhere with me?” Y/n probed as they settled in, hating how utterly vulnerable she’d sounded.

“I go where you go,” he offered stiffly, his gaze trained slightly off to the side, discreetly looking out the window, trying to work out where they were headed. They weren’t on the usual route, instead, they were headed in another direction, to the suburbs; specifically Oyster Bay. "Where are we headed?"

"I thought you go where I go?" Y/n shot back brashly, not looking his way, instead toying with the petal of a deep red rose from a bouquet she'd gotten. She hadn't mentioned who the flowers were from, nor had Y/n outlined why she'd been given them, though John supposed that it wasn't his business.

With a heavy sigh, he rubbed one of his palms up his thigh, trying to quell his annoyance. Why couldn't she ever just answer a question directly? "You can't just go somewhere and not mention it beforehand. I'm your security, not your secretary."

"I know," she gritted, trying to loosen her hold on the beautiful bouquet so the flowers wouldn't be ruined. "It doesn't matter anyway, we're already here," the car had stopped in front of the gates of a cemetery, the only population being that of stone and marble headstones, some with flowers and keepsakes among them while others were painfully barren. "Are you coming or not?" Y/n got out, taking the flowers but leaving her handbag, not even waiting for John as she casually walked off.

It didn't take long to catch up with her though, and soon enough, John was meeting her where she stood, near two matching grave markers, each constituting deep grey marble in a rounded arch, with gold engravings displaying who was buried beneath. He'd found her lingering in front of one, the clearly older one, while the other just was about a foot and a half away. She'd already placed the flowers in a little holder, tracing the arch of the cold stone before standing again.

Meredith Cecilia Romanov 1969-1999 Mother and Wife Gone, but never forgotten.

"This is my mother," Y/n swallowed thickly, not really sure why she'd chosen to tell John, and definitely not wanting his sympathy. Tears were hard to fight, and just maintaining her disposition was a trying task, even as she continued, words coming without permission, "Today's her birthday, she would have been fifty."

Out of her periphery, Y/n could see John starting, not the way he had that morning, with the swirl of lust on his dark eyes. That time, it was exactly what she'd dreaded; pity, though, mixed with something else, something like…...understanding. "I'm sorry," he managed, almost raising his hand to reach out before remembering that it wasn't his place.

"Its okay," she shrugged, sniffling softly, "It was a long time ago," blinking quickly, Y/n swiped under her eye dismissively, "I barely knew her, and I…..I've learned to accept it." In a way her father couldn't.

"Doesn't make it easier," it was a plight John knew all too well, the pain and suffering of losing someone prematurely, before you'd done with them everything you wanted to. There was so much he'd wanted with Helen; peace, a home, a family. And he knew part of Y/n felt some semblance of the same, like she'd been robbed of everything they could have shared. And she'd been so young too, probably no older than ten when she’d found out her mother was gone, forever. "How did it happen, if you don't mind me asking."

"Its……" She trailed off absently and Y/n's eyes went vacant and glassy, "It was….horrible." There couldn't have been another way to describe it, at least not at the top of her head.

"That covers a lot of ground," John noted, hoping that she'd open up a bit more, so he could be a little closer to her. He knew it was wrong, she was his boss and far beyond his reach, especially with Donavan in the picture. But then again, Donavan wasn't the one standing in the cemetery with her.

Briefly, she glanced at him, before turning away to explain, "I was seven, and she…..as far as I know, went shopping …...it was around my dad's birthday, she went to get him a gift or something, I guess. They snatched her, at the mall. People looked for days, he looked for longer, hoping she'd be alive," despite her efforts of staying steady, her voice broke, "She wasn't, and on his birthday, he got this box…...and a note, ‘happy birthday, from your wife’. It was bad, he knew it was bad, but he still screamed when he opened it; it was her left hand, ring and all still there."

"Fuck," John breathed under his breath. He'd heard the rumors, the little whispers that had said that had spoken of how Meredith had passed, but most of them had seemed too fictitious to be true. He was quickly realizing that they were true, every single one of them, "I'm-"

"When they found her body, in a canal, near the Eastside River," Y/n continued, surprising him, "She was barely recognizable, and the autopsy said that she'd died from severe blood loss after everything they'd done. And that she'd been raped, more than once, by more than one man."

"Y/n," John gasped. He'd done terrible things, killed with his bare hands, but none of them could have ever been that horrific. What had happened to Y/n's mother, it was…..unspeakable, terrible, and there was probably not one person in the world that he could think of as deserving a faith like that. "Who did it?" If he could, he'd take revenge for her, not that it would matter. It wouldn't bring Y/n's mother back.

At his question, Y/n huffed a dry chuckle, memories of Saturday washing over her; the reason she'd been so angry. "The fucking Irish," she breathed, taking a moment before straightening her back, pocketing her hands in her grey coat, and turning to walk away.

*****

Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @jupiterdawngirl

#keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x reader #keanu reeves reader #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick fanfic #ff #fanfic #john wick x you #protective service #chapter three #angst #series #requested #john wick fanfiction #fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfiction

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hood-ex · 4 years

Text

Prey to Sentiment

Read on AO3

Batbro Ages:

Dick: 20 Jason: 17 Tim: 13 Damian: 10

The sound of music was the first thing Damian noticed when the passage to the batcave opened. It was an upbeat tune that seemed to pound through the rock and limestone interior of the place. It was so jarringly loud compared to the rest of the manor that he found himself tuning into the lyrics without consciously choosing to. To his confusion, it seemed to be a song about a woman named Rio who enjoyed dancing on the sand.

Damian wanted to plug his ears with cotton to drown out the offending sound, but more than anything, he wanted to know who was blasting music in the cave. Surely his father did not listen to such garbage, nor did he allow it to play while he was working. Within the week Damian had gotten to observe his father, he knew that the man was nearly always silent. Bruce Wayne ate in silence, read in silence, exercised in silence, and patrolled in silence. It only made sense that his workspace would retain his preference for silence as well.

So no, it would be completely out of character for his father to play music in the batcave, which meant that someone else had been down here earlier. Judging by the sudden tenseness in his father’s shoulders, Damian could only guess that the culprit was still lurking around.

The only people Damian could imagine would be down here would be his father’s caped associates. That insufferable alien called Superman or possibly the blabbermouth speedster. Unless… his father was testing him and was planning to have him attacked as some kind of training exercise. Even though it was unlikely, Damian kept his eyes peeled for any sense of danger.

“There are some people I want to introduce you to,” Father said. He began to descend down the staircase, his feet making no sound. Damian followed suit and resisted the temptation to cross his arms over his chest. If there was someone threat worthy down here, he’d rather his hands be free to grab the knife tucked in his pants. He did allow a small scrunch of his nose since there was an unpleasant earthy smell in the cave mixed with a sharp saltiness that Damian couldn’t place.

He scanned beyond his view of his father’s backside and noticed that there was something different about the lowest level of the batcave. Typically, that was the section of the cave where his father kept his jet skis, ski boat, and the submarine. When Damian saw the cave for the first time a week ago, he had briefly looked down and saw that there was just enough seawater inside the cave to keep the vessels afloat. There had also been a large door at the entrance of the lower level that blocked off more ocean water from coming in, though it was obviously more of a device to keep people from entering the cave. The door had been locked tight before, but now it was completely wide open, allowing ocean water to slosh gently against the lower walls of the cave. The saltiness he had detected moments ago made sense now.

“Are you planning on going fishing?” Damian asked. He ended up crossing his arms anyways, hip cocked toward the support of the ridged wall. His father continued heading towards the lower level platform. The platform was only a few feet higher than the top surface of the water, making it easy enough to hop onto the boats. His father made no move to board any of the vessels, rather, he stopped at the edge of the platform and turned to meet Damian’s eyes.

“You’ll have to come down here,” Father said, “They won’t climb up there to meet you.”

Damian pushed off the wall with his shoulder and came down to the lower platform. “Who on earth are you referring to?” His arm nearly brushed his fathers when they finally stood next to each other. “Surely you don’t mean to introduce me to that trident wielding clownfish man.”

For a second it looked like his father was struggling between a glare and a small grin. Damian decided it must be a look of disapproval. People were rarely amused by him.

“No, not Aquaman,” Father said. Oh, of course. That was the clownfish man’s name. “Although somewhat related to him. You’ve met mer people before, haven’t you?”

Damian had, in fact, never met a mer person, let alone multiple of them at the same time. He’d certainly seen them when he was with the League of Assassins. Sometimes he would see them darting through the waves of the ocean, but he mainly saw them when his grandfather brought them in as prisoners.

Regardless, they were beautiful creatures, even though they rarely showed themselves above water. There were laws in place that kept mer people from being hunted like a typical sea animal, but it hadn’t always been that way. Damian supposed that was why the people of the sea were hesitant to make regular appearances outside of their habitat.

“Not officially,” Damian said after a few moments of silence. His eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m about to, aren’t I?” He instantly took a few steps back away from the ledge. His tongue curled, ready to reprimand his father for allowing mer people into the cave. Before he had the chance to do so, his father held up a hand.

“You don’t have to be scared of them. I’ve known each of them for a long time now and they know who I am.”

That only made Damian tense even further to the point where he was practically a replica of a dog with its hackles raised. He couldn’t believe his father had revealed his identity to others. Who were these people that had his father’s trust? Why were they privy to such a private part of his father’s life before Damian himself was? Damian technically knew the reason for the last question, and he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that his father’s affection for the interlopers was likely stronger than his affection for his own son.

His father’s blue eyes watched him with calculated precision and Damian quickly schooled his features. He’d rather have his father think he was nervous instead of pinpoint his insecurity.

“I know things between us have been rough this past week, but try to be civil with them.” They mean a lot to me went unsaid. Damian rolled his eyes before dragging his feet back to his father’s side. He gave a stiff nod.

His father reached up towards the comm in his ear, which was interesting. That meant the mers had a means of communicating with him in the water and vice versa. While Damian was certainly wary of the situation, he had to admit he was a little curious about his father’s “associates.”

“Tim,” his father said into the comm. There was a small pause where this so-called Tim must have responded. “I have Damian with me. You can come inside now. Tell Jason he can’t have any of Alfred’s shrimp for a week unless he disables the music loop.” Then, muttered through clenched teeth as if pained to admit it, he said, “It’s been driving me crazy all morning.”

“Tt.” Damian had been ignoring the music still pounding through the cave up until that point. There had been another terrible song playing for the past three minutes. It went something like, “I’m having your baby. It’s none of your business.” It hit a little too close to home for Damian’s liking, and by the way his father was openly scowling, he figured he felt the same. However, it didn’t become an issue because the music abruptly came to a stop. The Jason character must have decided the butler’s food was worth far more than an annoyed Batman.

There wasn’t much indication that the mers had entered the cave other than the water itself taking on a more rippled effect. Seconds later, the water started sloshing more harshly against the walls and platform. Damian lifted his foot just in time to miss a wave of water from soaking his shoe. By the time he dodged a few more wayward splashes, hair and skin were beginning to emerge from the murky depths.

Two dark-haired males then rose up until their arms and chests were exposed to the air, water droplets trickling down their skin. The male with the larger and more muscled torso looked to be older than the slimmer, pale male. Both of their eyes were blue and rid of any irritation that a normal human’s eyes would experience when exposed to seawater. Their hands also had webbing between each finger, though the small white tissue scars covering them suggested that the webbing was not entirely durable. While interesting, Damian was more excited to see the mer’s tails, but so far neither of them had moved far enough out of the water to show a glimpse of them.

His attention was drawn towards the teardrop-shaped obsidian stones that were fastened to each of the mer’s throats by short silver chains. He wondered if they were gifts from his father since the necklaces did not look like the kind of colorful jewelry mers were known to wear.

During the time Damian had taken to carefully observe the two strangers in the water, he realized they were doing the same to him. The more intimidating mer drifted closer until he was leaning his arms against the side of the platform, making Damian take a few steps back. His eyes seemed to be drawn to the knife that Damian had concealed in his pants. How the mer had detected it, Damian had no idea, but it instantly made him feel more guarded.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, and normally Damian would have shrugged it off, but somehow it made it easier to look at the mers without showing his unease over the situation.

His father looked at the larger male. “Damian, this is Jason Todd.” This was said with a pointed glare at the mer, and the mer instantly sported a wolfish grin that displayed his sharp teeth.

Father then motioned to the smaller male. “This is Tim Drake.” Tim gave a hesitant wave, his webbed hand stretching out to full capacity. Father sighed. “Where’s Dick?”

Damian raised a brow, unsure of what that was supposed to mean.

“He got sidetracked,” Drake said, swimming up beside Todd. “A kid from a passing pod snagged his tail between two rocks and broke a few scales. Dick said he was going to show the pod where the mer-medic was. He should be here any second.”

From what Damian remembered, a pod was the mer people’s equivalent to a family unit. They mostly traveled while children in the pod were young before becoming more stationary in one area. From what he could make of their ages, Damian assumed Todd and Drake’s pods must be close by. If that was the case then did their pods also know the identity of Batman? Did they also come into the cave and chat with his father? Once again, Damian couldn’t help but feel like a complete outsider in the situation.

His father started talking to the comm in his ear, apparently demanding to know where the absent mer was located. Damian ignored him in favor of focusing on the mers present. Arms crossed, he stepped forward to the point of nearly stepping on Todd’s fingers.

“My name is Damian Wayne,” he said, chin tipping upwards. “I demand to know your relationship with my father.”

Todd and Drake shared a look with each other.

“You demand to know?” Todd asked, Gotham accent taking Damian by surprise. He gripped the side of the platform harder and pulled his torso further out of the water, intentionally leaning into Damian’s space. “How about I demand you rephrase your question?” Todd didn’t even blink as a water droplet from his hair trickled into his eye.

“There was nothing wrong with the phrasing of my question, bottom dweller,” Damian said, using a term he had heard his grandfather use when referring to mer people.

Jason’s tail, a mixture of black and red, appeared for a split second before coming back down to the water with a loud smack. Water sprayed in multiple directions and a large portion of it drenched Damian’s jeans and shoes. Outraged, Damian stepped on the heel of his right shoe to loosen it. Then, with well practiced aim, he flung the shoe straight into Todd’s smug looking face. Todd’s head snapped back on impact. His arms gave out beneath him, making him sink back into the water. Drake dodged to the side to avoid Todd’s flailing.

Damian heard Drake and his father shout at the same time.

“What the hell!”

“Damian!”

Suddenly, a wet hand shot out of the water and snagged one of Damian’s ankles in a bone crushing grip. He was yanked so hard that he lost his balance and fell on his backside with a startled gasp.

“Unhand me!” he yelled while trying to scramble for purchase on the wet floor. It was no use. He felt another tight squeeze around his ankle, and before he knew it, he was dragged into the disgusting water.

Saltwater immediately stung his eyes. He squeezed them shut and blindly reached towards his ankle to try and dig his nails into Todd’s hands, but the water slowed his momentum. Even kicking became difficult against the water’s resistance. He could feel his body being dragged back and forth through the water, his hair ghosting over his face every other second. Lungs burning, Damian tried to use his hands to propel his torso to the surface of the water, only to have Todd give a harsh tug downwards, keeping him from reclaiming oxygen.

A second passed where Damian genuinely thought his father was going to let this psychotic mer drown him. A heavy feeling of betrayal fell over him and he tried even harder to kick Todd in the face. Clearly, no one was going to save him. He had to save himself. That’s the way it had to be. Just like it always had been with the League of Assassins.

Just as he was about to try reaching for his knife, a high pitched sound vibrated through the water. It sent shivers down Damian’s spine, and for a moment, he thought there was a whale with them in the water. A sound like that was far too similar to the whale songs Damian had seen videos of. But then the biting grip of Jason’s hands disappeared from his ankles. A different set of webbed hands grabbed his wrist, propelling him towards the surface.

Damian reflexively sucked in a large breath as soon as his face was out of the water. He felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He tried to open his eyes and immediately shut them again after feeling the sharp sting of salt in them.

Whoever pulled him out of the water had enough sense to keep an arm around his waist. Damian half-heartedly dog paddled back towards the edge of the platform with the arm’s support. Another set of hands, his father’s hands, grabbed him under the armpits and scooped him out onto the platform.

Damian gasped wetly and dragged himself as far from the water as he could with the dead weight of his wet clothes holding him back. He noticed his father’s presence disappear from his side, only to be swapped with another person, supposedly the person who saved him. Vaguely, Damian could hear his father yelling in the distance. It was hard to make out the words with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

The webbed hand returned to his back and gave it a few hard taps to help dispel any water Damian accidentally swallowed. “Go get him a towel and some tap water. He needs to flush out his eyes.” The voice was unfamiliar. There was no doubt that this had to be the other mer, Dick.

“Are you sure he doesn’t need some milk?” Drake asked from somewhere above them. And what? How was Drake possibly above them? He wouldn’t be able to breathe nor would he be able to walk with his tail. He tried to pry his eyes open to look, only to close them with a hiss after feeling how sensitive they were. Dick used his hand to slick Damian’s hair away from his face so more saltwater wouldn’t drip down into it.

“Oh krill,” Dick said, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time. “How long have you been waiting to use that reference?”

A bark of laughter echoed in the cave. “Way too long.”

“Should’ve waited longer!” Todd shouted during a pause in his and father’s argument.

“Jason,” Dick warned in barely concealed anger. “Shut it.”

Todd’s loud scoff startled the bats. Damian heard them scatter up above, their flapping wings getting farther away.

“Sure, okay. He insults me and hits me in the face with his steel-toed shoe, and I’m somehow in the wrong for showing him that actions have consequences?”

“Don’t even try to make it seem like that was a teachable moment. He’s just a kid—”

“Don’t treat me as if I’m some imbecile that needs to be handled with kid gloves,” Damian spat, rolling away from Dick’s gentle hand and sitting up on his own. “I’m capable of taking care of myself! I was just about to gut Todd with my knife when you stepped in unnecessarily.” Damian motioned in the direction of Todd’s voice. “I’d kill him right now if I was able to see properly.”

Damian felt his father’s hand close around his bicep. His first instinct was to knock the hand away, angry that people kept grabbing and touching him. First, it had been Todd’s biting grip on his ankle. Then, Dick’s supportive arm around his waist. Now, his father’s tense fingers on his arm.

He scowled. Their touch made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he was neither of those two things. No, Damian Wayne was no one’s victim. No one’s damsel in distress. He was too good for that. The blood running through his veins was proof of that.

“That had better be a joke,” Father said lowly. “I told you when you came here that we don’t kill. Ever.” The cold tone of his voice made Damian want to shrink and curl back up on the floor. Instead, stubborn as ever, he crossed his arms and turned his head in the other direction.

“I have the right to defend myself if he attacks me! If defending myself leads to his death then that hotheaded flounder was asking for it!”

Todd made a high pitched shrieking sound similar to the one Damian had heard in the water. Damian jumped slightly when Dick, who was still sitting right beside him, answered back with a mixture of shrieks and clicks of his own. It sent goosebumps down Damian’s arms. The shrieks didn’t sound as soft or musical out of the water as they had in the water. They were quick, biting, and fueled by anger.

“Ooh, you made mom mad,” Drake snickered, his voice sounding much closer than it was before.

Dick and Todd both clicked in the back of their throats simultaneously, which Damian could only assume was some variation of, “Shut up!”

Damian wondered if his father understood the mer’s heated conversation or if his silence was an indication that he was just as lost as Damian was. As far as Damian knew, translating the mer language did not come easy. Replicating it was even harder, if not impossible due to the different frequencies that could not be heard or replicated by the human body.

“That’s enough!” Father said after what felt like an eternity of nonstop vocalizations, causing the two mers to trail off into silence. Damian could have sworn he heard one of them hiss at one point. “You two need to cool off. Jason, get upstairs. Go help Alfred with dinner.” He paused for a second and then, most likely addressing Dick, said, “You’re drying up like a prune. Go soak for a few minutes.”

There was some mumbling and what sounded like feet pounding up the platform that connected to the top level of the cave. Damian internally cursed at the salt that was still keeping him from opening his eyes. He was desperate to make sense of how it was possible for the mers to be walking around the cave. All of them except Dick, apparently.

“You and Tim got the kid?” Dick asked.

Damian immediately scowled and clenched his fists. That was the second time he’d been called “kid.” Kids were not equals, and worse, they were not capable of much. Damian was the opposite. He would show both his father and these mers that no one was more capable than him. Then they would realize their mistake in referring to him in such a demeaning way.

“I got the water and towel right here,” Drake chimed in somewhere to Damian’s immediate left.

Dick squeaked twice, short and low.

“Huh?” Tim said. “Quit speaking in dialect.”

“Ugh. Forget it.”

Dick’s scales were rough and heavy sounding as they dragged across the floor. Damian wondered if it hurt or if the scales were tough enough to take some damage. His curiosity died as soon as he heard a large splash from behind him. He turned his attention to the remaining mer instead.

“What are you waiting for, Drake? Hand over the water immediately!”

Damian could only imagine the look of bewilderment on the mer’s face as Drake muttered, “Drake? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #mermaid au #dick & jason & tim are mers #dami has just left the league of assassins and has to learn how to get along w them #fic #my fic

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

Torrential (Part 1/3)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: When a summer thunderstorm hits Lebanon, a series of events unravels that leaves Dean surprised. As the storm rages on, it gives him a lot to think about.

A/n: the SPN taglist is still open! I hope yall enjoy this little series, and please tell me what you thought! (Gif credit goes to owner.)

Dean had lost track of how many hours he had been driving. If he was being completely honest, he began to lose track around hour three, which was right about the time you cranked up the volume on the music and began humming along. Though his eyes mainly stayed fixed on the road ahead, he would occasionally glance over at you, smiling at how content you looked.

Sam had stayed back for once at the bunker, leaving You and Dean to take care of the Vamp nest in Indiana. Of course, it was no problem to you. You quite liked spending time with Dean. He was funny and kind, and a breath of fresh air in a world gone almost completely sour. You were glad to call the Winchesters your friends, your family.

When the impala crossed over the Kansas border, wheels finally in the home stretch towards the bunker, that’s when the rain started, your gasp of excitement almost making Dean jump. As the miles ticked down, the rain only worsened, but for some reason your smile grew.

Through the hypnotic sound of the windshield wipers and the pelting rain, you leaned forward in your seat, letting out a content sigh, “ When was the last time it rained this hard?”

Dean drummed his fingers across the wheel, turning down the dirt road towards the bunker, “I’m not sure. Usually when it does rain, we can’t even hear it in the bunker. Why you askin?”

“I don’t know. I was just voicing my inner thoughts.” You shrugged.

As the impala came to a slow stop outside the bunker, Dean let out a groan. He was undoubtedly going to have to wash Baby again once the storm blew past. The dirt road up to the bunker was anything but smooth, and when it mixed with rain, the bottom half of the vehicle always ended up caked in mud.

“Oh, don’t be such a grump. I’ll help you wash the impala when the sun comes out.” You smiled, clearly understanding the reason behind his groan.

“But- but I just washed her.” Dean whined, head falling back in defeat as he shut off the car.

“Well that’s all on you, my guy.” You chuckled, suddenly throwing open the passenger side door and stepping out into the curtain of water. Dean watched with slight amusement and raised eyebrows as you slammed the door shut, but instead of covering yourself and running towards the dry sanctuary of the bunker, you stayed put, tilting your head skywards with a massive smile, eyes fluttering shut.

Ever since you were little, something about rain had always seemed magical to you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly, but each time you stepped out into it, it felt cleansing.

This was a summer rain too. It was warm and cool at the same time and made all the colors around you bolder. The trees looked more lush and green, and the air smelled like fresh earth and wet cement. Almost as if the water itself was reviving a healthy glow that you had long been waiting to return. The air felt fuller, and so did you as you took a deep inhale.

There was a distant mechanical whir as Dean rolled down the window, leaning over the seat “Y/N , what the hell are you doing?” His voice laced with amusement as he watched you.

You could feel the water collecting on your lashes and running down your face in small rivulets as you blinked, smile widening as you whipped around to look at him. He looked utterly confused by your action.

“What does it look like?”

Your had become completely soaked at this point, wet palms moving to thoroughly push back the strands sticking to your face, slicking them back with the rest of your hair.

“It looks like you’ve gone completely nuts.” He lightly chuckled, shaking his head. But as he watched you, he felt his heartbeat pick up, the rest of his words becoming lost as he watched you.

God, you looked beautiful, ethereal. Like you had stepped out of a feature film, your rain splashed face bright with a happiness he hadn’t seen in a very long time, lips shiny and looking like they were begging to be kis—

Dean quickly shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sudden thoughts. No. No. He couldn’t think of you like that. You were friends that was all. Yes, he only thought of you as a friend. Nothing else. purely. platonic. friends.

Sliding out of his own seat and into the warm downpour, he sucked in a breath, rounding the vehicle so he could open the trunk.

“Hey, do you need help unloading?” You suddenly called, already on route to him despite him having yet to respond.

Flipping open the trunk, Dean shook his head again, “Nah, it’s fine. I got it.”

“Nonsense, let me help.” You smiled, leaning over to grab at one of the duffel straps, slinging it over your shoulder.

Dean couldn’t help the soft smile on his face as he looked over at you, slamming the trunk closed and locking it, “I told you, it was fine.”

“I know, but I like helping. So deal with it.” You grinned, shifting to walk around the older Winchester.

That’s when things suddenly took a turn. You should have been paying more attention to the mud, because you took one slight misstep, and you slid, your feet practically shooting out from under you as you began a quick decent toward the ground. Your free hand quickly shot out, trying to grab on to the first thing it could find for stability.

“Oh Fuck!”

Unfortunately that happened to be the sleeve of Deans jacket, and before you could do anything about it, you were pulling him down with you, the two of you letting out a series of yells and curse words before hitting the earth with a couple loud groans.

And no, there was no oops I fell on top of you and now we are in a very awkward situation sort of ordeal. That did not happen. There was just a lot of mud and harsh landings. Nothing romantic about it.

“Smooth, Y/N . Real smooth.” Dean groaned, surrendering to the downpour as he lay on his back besides you. The small droplets kissing his face as he took in a breath.

“Dean, I am so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to.” sucking in a breath, you paused, suddenly seeing the situation you had gotten yourself into.

And then you laughed. You didn’t mean to once again, but it just bubbled out. The whole situation was hilarious and within a matter of seconds, your whole body was shaking with laughter, tears mixing with the rain water running down your face. It only got better when Dean turned his head to shoot you a glare. But it didn’t last long because a smile slowly worked across his features, and then his own laughter escaped him, making you laugh harder.

“I really- I really am sorry!” You wheezed, attempting to push yourself into a sitting position. Palms lightly slipping on the mud beneath you.

“It’s fine. I should have seen it coming. I swear sometimes it’s like you have two left feet.” He mocked, slowly sitting up next to you and turning his head.

His smile never fading as he took you in. Your clothes were now caked in mud, as was some of your hair. your face also smeared with wet earth. But it didn't seem to bother you. You were still beaming. Eyes still bright, and laughing so hard that you held a smile that out shined the sun.

God, you were beautiful.

“I mean, your not wrong.” You laughed, pulling Dean back out of his thoughts. For a split second he thought you had read his mind, but then he remembered what he had said, letting out a slight sigh or relief.

“Yeah, you kinda look like a drunk giraffe sometimes.” He teased, hoping it would help mask the sudden reddening in his cheeks. Your mouth dropped open in mock disapproval, fresh rivulets of rain water dripping from your open lips.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that, Winchester.” You smile turning into a menacing grin as you raised your hand.

“Y/N, Y/N don’t you dare-“ Dean warned, eyes widening as he tried to scoot away, but his retreat ultimately failed when you slowly pressed a muddy hand to his face, smearing dirt over his features. He couldn't help but suck in a breath.

You look so happy, and Dean almost believes its a dream. The rain continues to fall, conjuring sweet patterns on your skin as it begins to wash away the mud, and god he just wants to lean over and kiss you. Taste the rain on your lips and silence your laughter. How could a simple thing from nature make you look so beautiful?

“Dean?”

“Hmm?” He cant find proper words, not when your rendering him speechless like this.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, we should probably head inside.” Giving him one more smile, you brought yourself to your feet, extending a hand to help him up from the wet earth. Even with wet, muddy palms, he can feel the softness of your hand, gripping him and pulling him upwards, and he doesn’t want to let go.

And then Dean’s mentally slapping himself. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He doesn’t want to taint his friendship with you . . . But your making it damn near impossible with your contagious laugh and bright smile.

“Yeah, yeah. That would probably be a good idea.” He nodded, picking up the duffel he had dropped and following you down the steps towards the bunker door.

*. *. *. *. *.

An hour later, Dean finds himself absentmindedly pacing the library, hair still damp from the shower he took to get the mud off. You're undoubtedly tucked away in your room, curled up with a good book or listening to music, getting some much needed rest.

“Okay, dude. What is going on with you?” Sam sighed, pushing his laptop closed and giving his brother his full attention. He had been watching Dean practically wear tracks into the wood floor from his pacing over the last ten minutes, and it was beginning to drive him up the walls.

Dean paused, startled by the sudden voice as he looked up, brushing his hands through his hair, “What? Nothings going on. I’m fine. Totally, and completely fine. “ he breathed.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna try that again?”

“I told you, Sam. I’m fine!”

“You’re thinking about Y/N aren’t you?” Sam mused, leaning forward on his elbows with a raised eyebrow.

“Why- why would I be thinking about Y/N? I’m not think about Y/N. That’s . . . That’s crazy talk!” He huffed, trying hard to deny it.

“Wow, you are a terrible liar. I literally saw you walk down those steps an hour ago, watching her like she just hung the stars themselves. Admit it. You like her.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“I . . . I don’t!”

“Try again, Dean.” Sam sighed, making the older brother wince.

“I mean, she’s pretty and sweet and she has great values and a contagious laugh, but that doesn’t mean I like her!” He breathed, shrugging it off like it was nothing all while trying to ignore the amused look on his brothers face, his eyebrow still raised. And then he paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped, “I swear to god, if I’m in love I’m gonna eat myself.”

Read part 2 Here

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox @horrorstreet

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester series #dean x y/n #dean x reader #SPN #spn x reader #spn imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #bi-danvers0 #bi-danvers writing

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nightashes · 4 years

Text

All the Stuff in Our Heads

Summary: Virgil paints Remus’s nails and they talk about why they are friends.

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a minute. Been busy with life. But I’m not dead. So have a short drabble about why I think Remus and Virgil would be good friends.

warnings: brief mention of dark thoughts (death, life, and time stuff).

ao3 version - writing masterlist

The common area is quiet. No one is here but the anxious one and his intrusive friend. The rancid green side lies sprawled across the floor, his hands positioned flat on the rug in front of him. Virgil leans over the splayed hands. Crouching like a gargoyle standing guard over a rooftop. In his hands, he holds a bottle of black polish and a brush thinly coated in the dark liquid. Carefully, Virgil paints Remus’s nails. Virgil’s own hands are covered in an assortment of loud and messy colors, being the result of Remus’s own talent in nail art. For Remus, he had decided on something more simple and effective. Just pure black. Black of the void. And of the emptiness within. Black of the night. And of the horrors it hides. A color they both found comforting. Though the hardest part thus far has been convincing Remus to remain still enough for Virgil to apply the polish with the careful precision the anxious side favored. Remus groaned into the carpet. His face pushed into its polyester-mix is obscured from Virgil’s view. Though Virgil was sure he knew what face the rambunctious side was making.

“Don’t move.” Virgil warns. “I’m almost done with this hand.”

“It’s too quiet.” Remus laments.

“I can put on your playlist.” A compromise is offered.

“I don’t want music.”

“Well, what do you want?“ Another nail is finished, finishing Remus’s right hand. Virgil lightly blows on the nails trying to hurry up the drying process, fearing that Remus’s compliance is coming to an end.

“Where is everyone else? Why are they being so boring?”

Siiiiigh. Virgil moves onto the left hand as he thinks through his response. “You saw the last video. They probably all feel like crap and just want to be left alone.”

“Even, Janus? He said his name.”

Virgil purses his lips. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. About his friend, Patton, siding with Janus.

“He said his name. But I think he knows he isn’t completely accepted. Roman’s still not happy… and me.”

“It’s stupid.” Remus groans. “We should just shove them all into a room until they start making out.”

Virgil scoffs at the idea. “Yeah. That’s not going to work. Come on, Remus. You can’t just force sides to like each other.”

“Of course, you can. I do it all the time.” Remus insists despite Virgil's clear refusal at the idea. “After all, I forced you to like me.”

“Remus? You didn’t force me. I like spending time with you.”

Now it was the rancid’s side to express doubt. “Virgil, I don’t need Janus to tell me that isn’t true. You’re anxiety and I make you worse… I know I do. So don’t try to sugarcoat it like we’re best friends or something.”

“Stop. Remus, no.“

“But it’s true.”

“No. You don’t get to decide that. I am anxiety. And I have a lot more in common with you than any of the other sides. We both have the capability to be harmful to Thomas. We both struggle with dark thoughts. And when I tell you about how I think about the inevitability of death and the futility of life, you don’t bat an eye. You don’t give me a look of pity or concern. You just say ‘same hat’ and move on with your life. And I think we both need someone like that. Someone who understands the thunderstorms that are our thoughts. And if you really think we aren’t friends after all the times we’ve been able to talk about all the crap in our heads. Then… well then that’s just stupid. We are friends! And you don’t get to say we aren’t.” Virgil finishes his rant, pausing to stare at the side across from him.

Remus hasn’t made a sound. His face has been splattered with polish from Virgil haphazardly waving the brush around in his hands. And still the side makes no move.

Virgil grabs a nearby tissue he had on hand to catch any stray droplets of paint. He hands it over to Remus. The rambunctious side accepts the offering, but makes no move to clean up his face. Instead a wild Cheshire grin stretches across his face. A sign of insanity and pure joy that only Remus could portray accurately.

“So what I’m hearing is you’ll help me lock all the other sides into a room until they start making out.”

Virgil can’t help but to roll his eyes. “Nooo, Remus. They need to figure this out for themselves. You can’t force them to like each other. We all still have a lot to work out. It’s going to take awhile.” The stormcloud admits, thinking of his own rocky relationship with a certain deceitful side. “But, what I can do is finish painting your nails. If you’ll finally let me.”

“Ugh, fine.” Remus lowers his head back down. Probably smearing the nail polish from his face onto the carpet. Virgil purses his lips at the thought. Brushing it away, he silently positions himself back over Remus’s left hand.

“Can you sing something?” Remus grumbles from the carpet.

“Sure, Remus. What would you like to hear?” He speaks slowly as he steadily begins to paint.

“One of your songs? Something dark?”

“Mhmmmm… Alright. I think I got it.”

And he begins to sing. His voice rough and deep.

“Sunrise, sunset,

sunrise, sunset,

swiftly go the days

Sunrise, sunset,

you wake up then you undress,

it always is the same

The sunrise and the sunsets,

you're lying while you confess,

keep trying to explain

The sunrise and the sunsets,

you realise then you forget what you've been trying to retain

But everybody knows it's all about the things

that get stuck inside of your head.”

awesome people to tag: @stop-it-anxiety @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @leiasolo77 @arya-skywalker

#virgil sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts remus #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #brief mention of death #brief mention of time #brief mention of dark thoughts #virgil fanfic #remus fanfiction #platonic dukexiety #my writing

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jokerownsmysoul · 4 years

Text

until death do us part

Summary: you are laying on the couch one above another, both overwhelmed by your love and the only thing you can do is to let your minds run through a flow of consciousness of which your love is the protagonist.

Pairings: Arthur x Reader Content: soft, a little angst

Warnings: mention of past trauma

Word count: 2206

- if you want for a better atmosphere I was listening to this song while writing -

A/N: so yesterday was a rough day, I just started writing and this is what came out, looks like I had something to vent lmao

A/N: english is not my first language so I apologize for any typos, I’m still learning.

This was one of those nights when the sky was of a electric blue color, the clouds seemed to be escaped to a elsewhere which no one knows about and were totally nonexistent, and the stars, not being hidden by the clouds that usually filled the sky of the city, shone in all their greatness.

By looking at the night from the open window you noticed that the sky was clear, dotted by white stellar bodies which were glowing. The sky this night looked like a blue mineral covered by white crystals which were shining as if they were emeralds embroidered on the atmosphere, while a vibrant air entering through the open window brought into the apartment the same pungent smell which in this moment was covering the whole city like an invisible blanket made of oxygen.

You were laying on your back on the couch, your head was resting on Arthur’s pillow that he had picked up from your bed a few hours earlier and brought to the couch, your soft hair were covering it entirely forming segments of strands and messy curls which looked like the mantle of a lion. The scent of Arthur was embroidered in the fabric of his pillow and was surrounding all of your senses, entering your soul. Arthur was laying on you, his right cheek was resting on your chest’s skin and his hair were brushing your chin on which you laid soft kisses here and there. Your bodies were woven like two pieces of Lego games which you had been able to find and which fitted perfectly.

You had just made love and on your bodies Arthur still felt the drops of sweat flowing on your skins as if they were waterfalls created only to cross the love that had united you on this night and to become a river that ran through your bodies, made of the same substance. Your bodies still carried the weight of a pleasant tiredness caused by the dance you had done together in this night, like so many other times, looking into your eyes.

The crisp air which came in through the window brushing your wet bodies assaulted the sweat’s droplets on your skin causing goose bumps to both of us even though you were warming each other up through a grip from which you couldn’t untied.

Your legs were intertwined between them and your feet were tangled in each other filling the gaps your bodies created on the couch; if anyone had looked at you he wouldn’t have been able to say which were your legs and which were his. The weight of Arthur’s body pressed on yours, his skin touched yours as he had turned into a caress; it felt like to Arthur caressing you only with his hands wasn’t enough and he wanted to caress you entirely through his whole body by laying on you and making you feel the weight not only of his body, but also of his love which at this moment was pressing on your chest. Your heart was held in his hands and kissed by his, which was laying right on your skin protecting you like a sheet.

His body was so thin and skinny that made you feel his heartbeat drumming on your body in such a vivid and touchable way that for a moment you thought that this beat belonged to you, that his heart was inside your body and not inside his own and that between you was taking place an exchange of hearts, souls and bodies in a spiral created by the overwhelming love which kept you both delightfully trapped all the time.

The love between you was so overwhelming and boundless that Arthur wouldn’t even be surprised if your bodies had really switched the owner. The moment he met you his body became yours, your body became his, and there was nothing else of the other that wasn’t yours. You gave yourselves to each other and by giving yourselves you both had decided not to owning no longer yourselves; there was no longer a sense of belonging because by now you worked together, as if you were a puzzle which can portray an image if only the pieces are stuck among them, and it really was so. Alone you were two hanging points, but together those points created an image which only you could see.

The moment you fell in love and your hearts had decided to belong to each other, this mutual exchange between your souls, your bodies and your very existence took place all the time and it would never end to do so, it occured each time in a different way with the unpredictability and the adventure which only such an intense love as yours can give. This was what happened when Arthur laid down on your body, still with the shortness of breath and the wave of your excitement running through both of you.

His heartbeat started hammering on your skin, it was playing the music Arthur had inside him right in your body and through your body. His music existed within him and your body expanded its volume to be heard, just as Arthur extended the music which resided within you. You worked in unison and your lives lit up one another.

In this moment he was feeling your heartbeat pounding on his body too, it was following the music of your heart right on himself. Your hearts were communicating with each other in a language as ancient as the universe and as the love between you two which had been born an eternity before you were born. Your love already knew who it belonged to and that it would exist.

Your love just knew that on a cloudless night, in which the stars shone like beacons of a remote road in the sky, your bodies would once again come together on a couch worn by time, but you didn’t care. Choreographing a dance by every part of your bodies and by a music with your heartbeats you were creating a concert through which your lives were talking to each other.

You didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, in this worn out apartment on a couch to buy back, while in your arms was held the one person you cared about more than your own breath.

Arthur’s head was rising and falling as you were breathing. Arthur had the dance inside of him and at this moment he was dancing following the music that you held in your breath which represented your very existence. His dance was created to follow your music, just as your music was born only to accompany his graceful movements.

His pelvis pressed against yours and his back was covered by your arms as you stroked slightly his soft baby wet curls glued to the base of his neck by his sweat. His hands held along the sides of your body touched your thighs on which he was drawing gently concentric circles with his fingers. His eyes were closed and the movements of his rough fingertips on your skin was the only clue that allowed you to realize he wasn’t sleeping.

He felt so blessed and happy at this moment, while he was dressing your body up with his flesh as if he were a fabric created only for you, while your bodies were mixing each other’s scent and while your sweat and your warmth were creating a unique fragrance made from the fluids of both of your bodies, that he was afraid to open his eyes and discover that he were actually dreaming.

No dress would ever fit you as perfectly as his naked body on yours.

His body was like the dress you wore to feel more confident, like the dress you wore the most for the very reason that you never felt as beautiful as the times you wore it and you would’ve liked to stay in his body’s fabric continuously, like the dress you preserved on the safer area of your closet so it wouldn’t be ruined by time.

No dress would ever make you feel as beautiful as Arthur did every time he laid on you.

He wished there was a way to transfer his soul within yours to no longer be kept apart by the rest of the world and by life which got in your way, he wished he could kept his body above yours until the end of your days and beyond, he wished he could cover your life in the way your skin covered your muscles and your every bones.

He wanted to freeze this moment in the space and time of every possible universe.

If he could have done it time would have been dead and there would have been no reality forcing you to be far away from one another. There would have been no aging, there wouldn’t have existed the same passing days that pressing on your lives, like a clock which by spinning backwards was counting down.

You could have lived whole eternities in each other’s arms because there would have been no death, your love would have defeated it and made you live eternally.

Your love would have gone beyond time, beyond space and beyond the death of all things. Death would no longer be an obstacle that would have separated you at the end of your journey, the only thing that would have existed was this moment kept frozen in the time and space of the universe, in which your bodies were covered over each other and dressed each other as the best fabric that could ever have covered you by following the curves of your bodies and by matching you perfectly, fitting between the edges of your souls which had always been only one soul split in two bodies, and between your bodies which have experienced the same pain.

This exact moment would have existed everlastingly and would never have ended, it would have remained motionless on the line of space and time and you both would have lived in a bubble where not even time, by now, existed anymore. It would have been just you two wrapped up in this embrace, and the only time you could have perceived would have been the other’s heartbeat which would never end.

You two had experienced the same pain, you shared the same edges born by the same battles you both had faced in your life, each of you in your own solitude and by yourselves, until you had met and all the edges that life had forged in your souls and in your bodies had finally acquired meaning.

Life had made you face all this pain for the very reason that it knew that one day you would meet and your love would get stuck in every single gap your soul carried.

Your wounds had brought you to one another, your love was the gift that life had given you for having faced all this pain on your own. Your edges had the same painful origin, that’s why they matched so well, so that, once they were reunited and fitted together like two broken pieces belonging to the same being, they could have comforted each other and the love between you two would have gathered you from the ground by giving you birth once again, like a phoenix which comes back to life from its ashes, more beautiful and stronger than ever. The love that connected you was the phoenix of your lives.

All the pain you had experienced before knowing each other was running away blown by the power of your love, whose wings had taken flight as soon as your lives crossed and you met. The wings of your love had come out of your ashes, right where your pain stood, and by falling in love these ashes had combined and you had begun to share them together in one single soul from whom your love had risen, forged by all the evil that was done to you both in the past.

But now, now that you were together and that you had fulfilled the plan of the universe to make you fall in love, now that your bodies were intertwined between them even from afar and without touching each other, your love was stronger and more overwhelming than ever, and by loving you also your sorrows, your edges and every your gap were fitting among them.

Until in your heart there would be no edge left alone because every broken piece of your soul would find its binding force. Until in your lives there would be nothing but this feeling of boundless love and total devotion to the other which took your breath away, but without hurting you: you breathed through the love the one felt for the other and through the body of the other.

Arthur raised his head up and looked at your eyes and you both smiled at each other. With this smile and this look you were communicating more than you could ever have done with words. I feel your love whitin me.

The until death do us part would never have suited you, because you wanted to spend together also what awaited you after and of which you knew nothing.

Your lives couldn’t accept that one day a force greater than yourselves would separate you; your love could defeat death and the space and time of every universe and you were sure of it. Your love will go beyond everything.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur x y/n #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck imagine #joker x reader #joker #joker x you #joker x y/n #joker imagine #joaquin pheonix joker #joaquin phoenix x reader #joaquin phoenix x you #joaquin phoenix x y/n #joaquin phoenix #joker 2019 #joker fan fiction #jokerownsmysoul fic #jokerownsmysoul

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