#i had like. a faint gesture outline done this morning and that was all i had for the past several weeks

[kazuma-nyasogi]

#my art #realism #self portrait #assignment #illustration #this one is about 16 inches tall #i had like. a faint gesture outline done this morning and that was all i had for the past several weeks #and then i just jumped in today and got it all done in about an hour #idk. i feel like ive been pretty caught up on my schoolwork not looking like how my classmates does #and i kept trying to imitate them— the stuff that the teachers were all giving accolades to #and ive realised that its kind of dumb to compare myself (comicmaker and cartoonist) to them (sculptors and painters) #so im just doing shit my own way. and ngl the teacher seems to like that more as well

[song-shortstories]

Heather

a short story inspired by the song Heather by Conan Gray.

not based on the singer/songwriter or any events in their life, but only the song itself. all characters and stories are entirely fictional and i don't mean to offend anyone.

content warning: death, murder

[2090 words]

Even if my station hadn't arrived, the bus would have likely stopped due to the driver falling asleep. She barely gave me a glance as I, only remaining passenger, exited the vehicle I had been living in for almost a week. Before that, it had been a train. The station I'm dropped at is the furthest from the main city. I almost feel sorry for the driver. But why should i? It's not like there's anyone to feel sorry for me. I've always had a bit of a jealousy problem, I'll admit. It's why I'm on the run, after all. Under the emerging stars, I begin walking. I don't know where I'm going; I never have. I just go, always falling into ditches along the way. I am bruised and tired, but alive. The same can't be said of some other people. When I reach the empty field, it is dark enough that I can't see my feet. I'm so far out that there are more than just a handful of stars in the sky, and I wish I could say they're beautiful without thinking of her. Remnants of anger and bitter feelings arise and I desperately try to push them down. It's late. I've got to find a place to sleep. In the distance, I can make out the faint outline of what looks to be a shed. There is no path, and the plants around me seem to grow taller with every step. They look like flowers, but I can't be sure. For fear of spiders and much scarier creatures, I don't open the shed door in the dead of the night. I just lay against the wooden wall and I guess I've become used to sleeping in strange places that I fall asleep within minutes. I wake up in a field of heathers. Memories surge to the surface of my mind, and for a moment, in the morning light I let myself think about them. I recount the events in their entirety as I get up, realising how foolish it was to sleep in an open field where wild animals could have devoured me whole. I think I'm losing the regard for my life. I don't even know why I'm still running.

It all began in the winter of last year. Me and my friend, also the love of my life, Wren, had been at a party hosted by one of our well-off classmates. They had a pool in their backyard, and the events happened so that I ended up being dared to jump in the freezing pool, in the middle of winter and in the middle of the night. It was crazy to do it, but i couldn't resist a challenge and would not be remembered as a loser. So against common sense, I did it. this was a repetitive theme in my life. Plus, the girl who dared me probably thought this was her way of getting back at me for accidentally fracturing her arm when we were seven because she had a toy I wanted. I showed her she couldn't get to me.

After I climbed out of the pool I realised how cold it was. The dare also involved me not taking my clothes off, so there was no way for me to dry off quickly. I went inside to sit in front of a heater. After a while, Wren found me there. I told him what I'd done (he hadn't been present then) and he laughed at my impulsiveness, but also made me promise I would never do anything that reckless again. I nodded, teeth chattering so hard it hurt. He took off his sweater and gave it to me, and that gesture alone warmed me up a great amount. It was a bit small on me, but I loved it anyway. I looked into his eyes and thanked him. I thought we were having a moment.

Then she walked in. Heather. She had that perpetual faint smile on her lips and probably didn't realise there were other people in the room until she looked straight at us. She smiled even brighter and greeted us. I watched Wren look at her like I wanted him to look at me and hated her even more. It was the oldest analogy in the book, but she was like a magnet; she got all the attention right as she stepped into a room, and it wasn't by purpose. Even I knew that.

'I heard someone jumped into the pool,' said Heather. 'So it's you.' There wasn't any judgment in her voice, just curiosity.

'It was a dare.' I bet she couldn't do it. Not with that pretty hair she wouldn't want to ruin.

'Good for you, but just for your safety, you should have thought about it a bit more. it's really cold.'

'Thanks. I can really tell.'

Wren nudged me and my heart fluttered at that contact. 'She's right.' He looked at Heather. 'That's what I tried to tell her. I could've talked her out of it if I was there.'

'it's done now, guys,' I said. 'No use talking about it.'

Later, everyone else had come inside as well. Wren kept asking if I wanted to go home but I was insistent. Cold couldn't hurt me. However, the lovely girl with the bright eyes and easy smile could. She'd done it too, once when I'd come second place to her in that maths contest at school last year, and that time when my mother had said Heather was such a nice girl and I should be more like her, and every time Wren smiled at her and not me. A better person wouldn't despise her for such petty things, but i had never been the better person.

When Wren dropped me off at my house later, I took off his sweater, but he put it back on me. 'Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.'

I felt hopeful, maybe he didn't care about Heather after all and liked me. I found out that wasn't true the next week. Wren and Heather had started going out. It felt as if he'd taken his sweater back from me and thrown it on the ground.

Watching them, I understand, sort of. Of course he'd go out with her and not me. She was pretty. I didn't come close to that. She made everyone laugh all the time while I struggled not to plot someone's murder. I'm sure Wren only laughed at my dark jokes because he felt like he had to.

It killed me, seeing them together. He'd put his arm around her casually, and I'd wish I were her, leaning into him. Wren didn't try to stop being any less of my friend, but I distanced myself from him.

It was the last straw when I saw Heather wearing another one of Wren's sweaters. It wasn't as nice as the one he'd given me, but I still felt more jealous than I had before. It wasn't fair. I couldn't bear to look at her anymore, I couldn't go on like this anymore. I wished she was dead more than ever.

I wouldn't realise how much I'd been blinded by my feelings until hours later.

I stole Wren's phone and sent Heather a text, as him. I told her to meet me at the lake, now. She was confused, but eventually agreed with a little persuasion.

I positioned myself behind a tree at the agreed location and waited patiently for her arrival. She was on time, because of course she was. She was Heather, after all.

'Hello? Wren, are you there?'

I considered. Would it be better to confront her as she was or to make this a little fun for me?

I picked up a rock beside me and took aim. It was sharp, an hit her right between the shoulder blades. She tripped over some overgrown roots and I came out of my hiding place just as she fell on her already injured back.

I loomed over her. 'Hello, Heather. not feeling so good now, are you?'

'I don't understand.' I heard the pure panic in her voice as she whispered my name and tried to make sense of the situation. 'I was supposed to meet Wren here, have you seen him, then--oh, and did you throw that rock? What's going on?'

She struggled to get up but evidently, it caused her too much pain and she fell right back down. I pinned her neck to the dirt and grinned. 'I've got control over you, finally, instead of the other way round. Do you understand how miserable you've made my life?'

She shook her head (as much as she could under my grip). 'I'm sorry, for whatever I've done. I'll make it up to you.' Pretty tears were running down her face. With my other hand I wiped them away. She flinched.

'You can't make it up to me. you can't! can you take away the affection someone--a lot of people--have for you and give it to me. Wren was mine, you stole him. Why does he give everything to you? what about what I deserve?' Flashes of memories overcame me; Wren's sweater on me, then his sweater on her, his arm around her, his eyes on her, everything for her, the universe chanting her name and not mine. I looked into her trembling eyes and realised i had a other stone in my hand.

'You're crazy,' she babbled. 'Oh my god, you are fucking crazy! You're going to kill me.'

'I am not. Crazy.' I jammed the rock into her head, hard. She immediately stilled. My breath was deep and heavy, and as I checked her neck for a pulse I realised the monstrosity I'd done. I didn't think I'd hit hard enough to kill her, but maybe I'd choked her unwittingly with my other hand.

There was no pulse. Heather was dead, or would be soon. I had to get out of here. I looked down at her. She was so weak. Soft arms and a frail body, at odds to my larger one. I scrambled off her body and gave a quick glance to my surroundings. Could rocks hold fingerprints? I threw everything I'd touched into the lake.

I looked back at Heather's corpse. Should i leave her there? It could be days till someone found her. I couldn't risk calling the police. I didn't want to leave her just like that, which made me laugh--why did I suddenly acquire a moral compass? I grabbed a bunch of wildflowers from the ground and laid them on her chest. Then I ran out of there.

It was evening as I neared my house. I'd taken the long but secluded way home, and had yet to meet anyone. I couldn't go inside like this though, as my trousers had a small but noticeable bloodstain on them. The living room lights were on, and I couldn't go to my room without passing it.

I stopped. Why was I going home anyway? I had money, enough to get by for a while until I found a way to make more. I'd committed one of the worst crimes; I could commit some more. I was a terrible liar, always had been. I wouldn't be able to hold on for long. A life on the run sounded much better than a life in prison.

Sure, the timing of my disappearance would put me high on the suspect list, but I could run. I'd live in the middle of the fucking ocean if I had to. I'd ruined everything I had--no, Heather did. I'd killed her, and now I felt invincible in a sick sort of way. Nothing could come in my way. I would beat it all. I'd make myself a new life, and if I got bored, I'd just build another one.

I thought of Wren after that, as I tugged my hood over my face and began walking. He was the main reason I'd done it, and now I couldn't have him either. My actions now seemed useless. Even in death Heather found a way to defeat me.

I'd come back for him someday, I vowed. I'd have to give the wound some time to heal.

In the distance, I heard sirens. I ran. I ran, for as long as I could, and here I am now, almost a year later, still running. As I watch the sun emerge from the clouds, I begin to think that maybe I'm not running from anyone but myself.

#conan gray #heather #short stories

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married.  Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan.  And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

-

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

-

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

-

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

-

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #accidently married

[in---absentia]

NDA pt. 2

Author’s Note: I honestly was drunk when I posted pt. 1 with a simple thought of “well let’s see what happens” and I’m happy people liked it! Here’s pt. 2, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k

Previous Chapter /// Next Chapter

Monday came around as it always does in the end, and despite your initial desire to never in your life have to look Mike in the eyes again you found yourself invigorated by the prospect of getting to work with Marley. You had spent time over the weekend going over the documentation in hopes of getting as caught up as you could be on the project, and when you woke up to your usual 6 am alarm a smile fell onto your lips as you started to prep for the day. 

Shower done, hair dried, makeup on in record time, you looked at the outfit you had laid out the night before and silently thanked Ymir for the weather dropping in temperature over the weekend. No one would be able to question your decision to wear a turtleneck sweater with the temperature now in the 50s, and no one had to know that there was still the outline of Dieck’s lips on your neck. 

In the end he hadn’t texted you and you hadn’t given it much thought. While it would have been great to finish what you had started the encounter had left you with more than enough to feed your imagination and your trusty vibrator made sure you were satisfied through the weekend. It wasn’t the first time you gave your number to someone and they didn’t follow up and it probably wasn’t the last, but you had more important things to worry about for now. 

Successfully launching the cheapest yet most advanced prosthetic on the market was far more important than getting railed by a total stranger. 

“Ymir have mercy,” you muttered as you pulled on your black business pants, almost wanting to roll your eyes at the damn near Elizabeth Holmes cosplay you were pulling off when you checked yourself in the mirror. Shimmying out of them you pulled out your black skirt that hit right above the knees and threw on a matching blazer. 

Less than 20 mins later you were out the door and on the train by 7 am, guaranteeing you’d get to town by 7:30, would get to the coffee shop nearby around 7:37 for your usual morning pick-me-up, and be seated at your desk by 8 am on the dot. Erwin, Mike, and Levi walked by, Erwin flashing you a small smile as he passed, and you couldn’t help but wonder what conversations were happening behind closed doors as you all waited anxiously for the others to arrive. 

You had been blankly staring at your desktop after getting the bare minimum of work done before that meeting. It had to have been around 30 minutes since you sent your last email or responded to a question someone had asked you on “Survey Corp”, the inappropriately named (in your opinion) internal chat system, before you saw someone approaching your desk in your peripheral. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

It was Hange, and as you pulled out your AirPods you couldn’t help but smile at them. 

“I’m good! Excited, anxious, you know it is before a program launches,” you said as you gestured to the free chair nearby. 

Sitting down in it in the oddest position, Hange let out a long sigh before looking back at you with obvious interest. 

“Being anxious about working with Marley makes sense,” they said as they rubbed their eyes under their glasses. They gave you a quick side glance and smirked at your obvious displeasure, “You are far too mad about how we talk about them.”

“I completely understand and empathize with the anger you have for them. I just don’t want to have to hear it for the next year.” 

Hange threw an arm across their face, feigning fainting as they loudly declared in a faux damsel voice, “How could you think we’d do this for a year? It’ll be at least two!” You couldn’t help but laugh at that and Hange smiled, leaning back in the chair with a satisfied grin. “Seriously though, does it bother you that much?” 

You shrugged before speaking. “I think it just doesn’t help the nerves, you gotta let me discover that they suck on my own.” 

Levi popped up from behind your desk at that a frown deeply etched on his face, “It won’t take you long to realize it and you’ll be joining us soon.” 

“Levi! I thought you were in a meeting with Erwin?” Hange asked, confusion apparent on their face. 

Levi grimaced at that as he leaned on your desk, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Erwin and Mike are getting ready to greet Marley. They should be here in 20 minutes and then they’ll be brought right to the conference room.” 

“Do we need to check it?” You supplied and Levi nodded. 

“Erwin’s asked us to make sure it’s all perfect for when they enter,” he said and stood up, expecting the two of you to follow. 

With a groan Hange stood up and grabbed a small notepad and pen from their desk, you following suit and also grabbing your water bottle. Walking down the hall you three made an odd trio, but Hange broke the silence as usual. 

“What did you do this weekend Levi?”

“Didn’t get any sleep, thanks to you.”

“What?” You immediately asked, confused as Hange nodded along in agreement with you. 

“You mean you don’t remember the absolute menace you were Friday night?” 

You froze at that for a moment, heat creeping up your neck as you wondered what he could have been talking about. 

“We bugged you Friday?” Hange asked with a tilt of their head. 

“Not “we”, just you! You don’t remember calling me three different times to tell me about what happened at the club?” 

Hange just shrugged and you had to jump in, dreading the answer he could potentially give. “Um, what did you talk about?” 

“Absolutely useless shit! “Nana is a fruit basket, cause her name is Nanaba like “banana”! Petra is the sun, isn’t that perfect! I’m a pirate, arhhh! Guess what Scout is dressed as!” And that was the first call! They called again to tell me how they couldn’t find you, only to scream “never mind!” And then I got a call an hour later where they just rambled about how good Taco Bell is and how they want to buy me a Gordita for all the work we’ve done over the years!” 

Hange laughed the entire time and you immediately felt yourself relax when he was finished. Nothing about you disappearing with a stranger, nothing about the hickey on your neck, you were in the clear for now. And thank Ymir for that, because you had finally made your way to the conference room and immediately were put to work by Levi because “EAs don’t know shit about setting up rooms anymore”. 

Ten minutes later chairs were straightened out, documents perfectly lined up in a folder at each available seat, and the coffee & tea station was expertly arranged. Nothing looked out of place, everything was pristine, and it was entirely due to Levi’s desire for perfection. 

“Should we grab our seats?” Hange asked as they looked at the table. 

“Mike and Erwin want to be away from the door, so they can look towards the screen from a distance. Marley will probably sit across from them so we can take the closer three seats on this side.” 

And with that Levi claimed the seat next to one of the VPs, Hange dropped her notepad next to him, and you were left with the other end seat. “Youngest at the far end of the table again,” you thought to yourself as you refrained from rolling your eyes and set yourself up, now only a few minutes away from greeting Marley. 

“Oh shit, they’re here,” Levi said abruptly as he looked at his phone. 

With one last groan Hange shook themselves out before turning on the charm. “Time to get this show on the road. Let us know if you need anything Scout.” 

“Will do,” you said, one arm thrown behind your back and another fist over your heart in some sort mock salute that you all had created a few years back when drunk at a conference. Smoothing out your outfit one last time, you took one last deep breath to calm your nerves. 

And with that there was the loud click of the door opening and all eyes turned to it, all three dropping into the most professional modes possible. Levi was still detached, but the anger was mostly gone from his face as Hange stood next to him with a smile that didn’t reach their eyes. You looked powerful, posture perfect and eyes kind as you turned to the tea station and grabbed at a teacup, taking on the role of “the first to use the station” on so people wouldn’t feel awkward about doing the same. 

The classic corporate set up. 

Mike came in first, a secret smile flashed to you three before he gestured to you and the coffee, a congenial offer made as Marley started to walk in. 

The first to come in was a big and broad blonde, smile on his face as he thanked Mike and started walking towards you, grabbing his own mug as you ripped open a tea bag and dropped it into yours, a polite smile on your face as you nodded at each other.

Behind him was a significantly shorter women with ice blue eyes and platinum blonde hair in a bun, her face dangerously blank as she walked straight across to the other side of the table without a glance to you and the others as she arranged a notebook of her own. You couldn’t help but find the level of detachment slightly surprising, it was almost standard to at the bare minimum fake some interest and here she was not giving a care. It was almost admirable. 

A tall, tall enough to rival Mike, brunette with a long face and defined nose walked in quickly behind her. His brown suit nearly matched his hair and with a timid smile he walked to the other side of the table and sat next to the blonde woman. They passed some papers between themselves and you could only speculate what it was before your attention was diverted by Mike next to you. 

“The other two will be here in just a moment,” he said to the benefit of Hange and Levi. You just nodded and turned to sit back down at your seat, ignoring the slight dig that Levi made about tardiness under his breath. You had to close your eyes to keep yourself from rolling them and when you reopened them the door began to open again, your gaze immediately falling over there. 

“Right this way,” you heard Erwin say and you paused momentarily as you pulled your chair out, everyone’s attention immediately falling onto the man who entered the room. 

Gray eyes flashed under a pair of the most unique glasses you’d ever seen and met your’s and you couldn’t help but give him a quick once over. Tall, blonde, with a full beard and broad shoulders in a perfectly fitted tan suit and a black tie? This had not been the person you were expecting from the descriptions you had gotten from Hange and Levi, and all you could do was smile politely with the smallest of nods before taking your seat. 

“Hange and Levi you little shits!” Was all you could think as you took another look at the infamous Zeke Yeager, handsome and obviously aware of it as he carried himself with immense power. 

He strode across the room to sit next to Annie while Erwin sat next to Mike, and with a sharp smile he nodded towards Hange and Levi and greeted them by name, causing the two of them to visibly tense up. 

“Before we get into the overview of the project I think it would be best if we all took some time to introduce ourselves,” Mike started, hoping to immediately defuse an already tense situation, and Zeke quickly nodded in agreement, a simple “of course” falling from his lips. 

“We’ll start, since you’re our hosts today. I’m Zeke Yeager, Senior Vice President of Marley’s Medical Division, and these are my associates,” he said simply as he gestured to the people on his right who immediately launched into quick introductions of their own. 

“Annie Leonhart, Product, Kinesiology department,” the blonde woman said devoid of nearly any emotion. 

“Bertholdt Hoover, Legal Counsel, Strategic Deals,” said the tall brunette with a small smile yet just as brief as the introduction before him. It was almost glacial between the two of them so you were shocked when the last spoke up.

“And that leaves me! Reiner Braun, Head of Security,” the broad blond said with a laugh and a bright smile. 

The difference between the previous two intros was startling, but you couldn’t help but smile at the man when his eyes landed on you as a friendly gesture. You were seated across from him, after all, and expected to be the next to speak but Levi immediately jumped in, followed by Hange, and then you were left to give your name and title quickly. 

It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Zeke had stared at you a moment longer than necessary, but you brushed it off as just him sizing you up and looked towards Erwin who quickly began to speak about the overall mission of the partnership. There were a few slides with high level details and fancy buzzwords that nearly every company was using these days and while you knew this type of posturing was necessary you hated every moment of it. 

Acting as if your notes were on the presentation, you listened to the others speak and used the time to glance at the Marley representatives once more, fascinated by their body language and jotting down your thoughts on them.

Reiner was relaxed, almost too much. He was leaning back in the chair, arms loosely crossed over his chest as he nodded intermittently while Erwin or Mike spoke, but he also seemed to be looking around the room casually. Bertholdt looked completely different compared to him, posture straight and upright, serious look on his face as he jotted notes in his legal pad with his fancy pen that wasn’t plucked from the office’s supply room. 

Annie was even more rigid than him, with an almost unreadable face. There were a few moments though when you thought her eyes flickered with interest, once when Erwin proclaimed that mobility was a top goal and another when Zeke stated that the research could lead to great improvements in biomechanics. Those brief moments of insight were good enough for you to make note of. 

Zeke was the one who was throwing you off though. You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but it felt like nearly every time you looked at him he was either already looking at you or quickly meeting your gaze. Everything he said felt both perfectly rehearsed yet completely natural, and his mannerisms were so precise- the perfect gesture with one hand towards his colleagues, the nod that wasn’t too large or too small, a polite “if you are” when Mike asked if people were ready to move onto the next topic- it all felt so calculated. 

Doodling the geometric pattern of his glasses, you decided to sneak another glance at him and once again caught him looking right at you, this time the interest clear. It was the look that people wore when they were convinced they knew the person, had met in some way, but couldn’t remember it to save their life. You honestly knew you were giving him the same look, for the life of you he struck you as familiar but you couldn’t place him at all. You both held that gaze for a moment before he looked back at Erwin when the slides came to an end.

“So, are there any questions before we get to the NDAs?” Erwin asked, and everyone around the table shook their heads as they opened the folders and found a three page document in front of them. 

“I don’t think there are any from our side, right team?” Zeke asked, glancing at the others, and Reiner responded with a bright, “Not now, chief!”

One simple word, a cheery “chief” and your stomach dropped, eyes widening as you stared at the papers and your vision became unfocused. 

Looking up quickly and glancing at them all, it immediately clicked. 

“Lion Lad” was Reiner.  “Giraffe Guy” was Bertholdt.  “Cheetah Chick” was Annie. 

And most importantly, “Monkey Man” was Zeke. 

“FUCK!”

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #aot au fanfiction #office au #minors dni #honestly this is going to be a slowish burn with a fair amount of plot cause it’s MY comfort fic and I make the rules lol #nda vibes #as always posted with no editing that comes later need instant gratification

[hockeyboysiguess]

two turtle doves -> two hockey skates | t. seguin

a/n: thank you for all your sweet comments on the first fic of this little holiday series :) here’s fic number two in my 12 days of christmas series! full list linked here.

word count: 3,643

warnings: alcohol, terrible skating, some questionable choices, cheesiness. 

Christmas in Toronto, well outside of Toronto, with the Seguin family was going better than you had let yourself hope it would. Meeting Tyler’s family happened ages ago, but the decision to split holidays, Thanksgiving with yours and Christmas his, was a much bigger one that had brought nerves in never ending supply. Spending Christmas away from your own family, where you had always spent it, also had you worrying, on top of endless time with your boyfriend’s family where you felt like you always had to be on, you worried it wouldn’t feel like Christmas. But now, with the gifts opened and cherished, the fire roaring, dinner served and enjoyed, and with everyone drinking Tyler’s mom’s incredible spiked hot chocolate, your nerves had given way to warmth and love, and as cliché as it was, the Christmas spirit. 

“How you doing, Ty?” 

You smiled as you wrapped an arm around his waist from the side. His arm extended out, giving you space to tuck under it and into his side. He pulled you in tighter for a moment and dropped a kiss to your temple, other hand setting his fourth, possibly fifth, mug of spiked hot chocolate on the counter. The marshmallows in his mug floating on the surface were dissolving into the cocoa, a situation you knew Tyler was hoping to create, the candy cane used to stir discarded on the counter. It was the little things that made the holidays, not the big ones, like disintegrating marshmallows and his younger sister’s obsession with your family gingerbread recipe she swore was the best she ever had and the noise of the fire crackling in the background on top of a rare snowy Christmas in Tyler’s hometown. 

“When are we going to get you to use your Christmas present?” Tyler asked you, words slurring a little together from a combination of alcohol, exhaustion, and the holidays. 

“Oh, at some point, I guess,” you shrugged, then realized that might sound like you didn’t appreciate them before quickly adding,  “I really appreciate them, Ty. Thank you.” 

Tyler shook his head softly, “No, no, we need a plan to get you on the ice finally. None of this ‘at some point’ or ‘later, Ty’ bull. You’ve told me later for two years now and you know what? Now is later. Come on, get your coat.”

“Wait, you wanna go skating right now?” you squeaked out. 

“You mean,” he snagged a Stars beanie off the counter and tugged it down over your head quickly, pulling it back by the pom pom to adjust it, “we’re going now. Full stop.”

You were sputtering out words as Tyler headed for the front coat rack. Your inability to skate, and your even stronger will not to learn at this point in your life, were a regular sticking point with Tyler, a person whose job required him to skate well. He offered to teach you way back on your second date, and back when you’d been trying your hardest to impress him, you’d agreed to take lessons from him but only because the teacher was cute. Tyler hadn’t actually scheduled any lessons back then, when he was trying even harder to impress you, so you quietly let the offer fade to black, hopefully never to be resurrected. But here Tyler was, bringing it back from the dead, when you least expected it, on Christmas Day, a day you never expected to spend with him, but now we’re pretty sure you never wanted to spend the day without him. However, you didn’t want to spend part of it falling flat on your face attempting to do the thing your boyfriend did for a living. 

“Come on,” Tyler encouraged, as he laced his boots up tighter. “Get your coat. I’ll grab the skates.”

“Tyler, it’s after nine-”

“Stop giving me crap,” he teased you. “Coat, gloves, come on.”

You sighed and wanted to push back. It was dark. It was cold. It was snowy. It was Christmas, and yet, Tyler wanted to cash in on a promise from your second date. You pulled your coat on and wrapped a green scarf around your neck, Dallas Stars green, a reminder of just how much Tyler had permuted every aspect of your life, how important you made him, how central you made him. You never would be spending Christmas outside of Toronto, holding a brand new pair of ice hockey skates in one hand, walking down the Seguin’s neighborhood street, if you hadn’t made Tyler completely central to your future. Sometimes the thought of that, changing as much as you had for him, was terrifying, the kind of terrifying that made your hands shake and your chest tighten and your mind race down paths you barely knew excited because they were so rarely tracked. But then, like he did in that moment, Tyler turned to you and gave you his widest smile, smiling so hard to do it that his nose scrunched up and his eyes squeezed shut, and you remembered exactly why it wasn’t terrifying at all. He loved you with a pureness that reminded you of a child’s love of Christmas morning, but with the depth to grow and change with you the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. 

Maybe for him, you would try to learn to skate afterall. 

Tyler turned at the house at the end of the block, heading straight to the side gate. He noticed your puzzled expression and offered an explanation, “Neighbors built a little ODR they didn’t mind sharing when I asked.” 

“Tyler Seguin, how long have you been planning this?” you huffed, pausing in the open gate to give him a look that signalled you knew Tyler needed to come clean. 

He gave you a sheepish smile before saying, “Since you said you would come for Christmas?” 

“Tyler, that was in October!” you cried out, a laugh edging at your voice. 

“The lessons are part of your Christmas present,” he replied, pushing aside your whining tone. “Can’t give you a gift you can’t use and not teach you how to use it, right?” 

You sighed as you rounded the corner of the yard to reveal a small, but serviceable outdoor rink his neighbors created on a pond in their back garden. Tyler ushered you out with a wave towards the pond and your brows furrowed, but he just waved his hands to usher you along. It was dark, far too dark for you to possibly learn to skate in this, with just the faint lighting from his neighbor’s back patio showing the outline of the pond and a small bench beside it. You dropped down onto the bench and began to unlace your boots. 

Just as you pulled the second boot off, suddenly, the pond was flooded with light, making you jump a little in surprise. There were lights all around, spotlights, string lights, lanterns, everything it seemed the family could find to make the backyard as bright as possible. You shook your head softly as a smile came over your face. Of course. 

“Tada!” he shouted as he trudged through the snow to cross the yard to you. “The family that lives here is out of town for the holidays, but they were super nice and told me how to set it all up so I could teach you. Do you like it?” 

The skates in your lap and the ice in front of you that would soon be combined in a way sure to cause you physical pain made you want to say you didn’t love it, but the look on Tyler’s face, the obvious meticulous planning, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture made you feel otherwise. Plus, it was a Christmas gift and you couldn’t tell Tyler you didn’t like his Christmas gift because you were embarrassed you got this far into life, this far into a relationship with a professional hockey player, never learning how to skate. 

“It’s great,” you smiled at him as he plopped down onto the bench next to you. “Thank you, Ty.” 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he told you before dropping a kiss to your temple in reply. 

You slid your skates on at the same time Tyler did, and you did your best to copy his motions, looping the laces on your skates to pull them tight. Tyler tried not to laugh, but you definitely weren’t pulling hard enough or loosening them at the right points or something else wrong because Tyler was done and laced up before you’d even gotten part of the way through one of your two hockey skates. Tyler laughed, more at your struggle compared to his practiced ease than actually at you, before sliding onto the ground in front of you, one knee dropping into the snow. 

“Let me do it,” he said as he pushed your hands away softly. 

He looked up at you with curious eyes for a moment. There was that familiar glint of a patented Tyler Seguin idea in them, which made you cock your head and furrow your brows at him. He just smiled wide, shook his head softly, and turned his attention back to your skates. 

“What?” you pressed him softly. “What did you just think of, Ty?”

He pulled the top of your laces on one boot tight to finish tying them as he spoke to you, “Just thinking about kneeling in front of you is all. Feels like it’s good practice, eh?” 

You sighed, “Ty, you can’t make jokes like that.” 

He barked out a laugh as he tightened the laces on your other skate, “Who said I was joking?” 

Before you could form a response, Tyler was up on his skates and pulling you up too. He led you to the edge of the pond, then took a confident step onto the ice when he reached in. Effortlessly, he spun on his skates to face you, reaching two hands out, ready to take yours and help you take your first steps onto the ice.  He made it look so easy, as easy as walking, but you knew if you tried to do what he just did without you, you were going to look like a very short baby giraffe, legs splayed out, flat on the ice. You huffed and Tyler gave you an encouraging smile as you gave the ice a disapproving look. 

“I’m not going to let you fall, baby,” Tyler said lazily. He outstretched hands opened and closed in front of you to encourage you to grab onto them. “Come on, it’s just skating.” 

“You’re tipsy and a professional,” you pointed out. “I’m tipsy and a complete novice.”

“I’ll have you know I’m one of the best in my field,” and the cheeky smile to accompany his words drew an eye roll from you. “Tipsy or not, I can still make sure you don’t fall.” 

“Pretty sure I’m going to make you eat your words, Seguin.” 

Without a second thought, another second to rethink the moment, you slapped your gloved hands into Tyler’s and put one foot on the ice. Your foot immediately started to slide forward, toward Tyler, and you panicked. Tyler was ready for your panic and pulled your hands, forcing you to put your other foot on the ice. You let out a small scream and Tyler laughed. 

“Baby, you’re so stinking cute,” he whined as you managed to, with as much force as you could muster using his hands as an anchor, stand up mostly straight in front of him. 

“I hate you, Tyler Seguin,” was all you could come up with in response. 

Your response made Tyler tip his head back and let out a long, full bellied laugh, bending his back into it as he laughed. Tyler seemed to forget your balance was incredibly precarious and entirely dependent on him. The three inches he shifted back on the ice as he laughed completely unbalanced you, sending your feet sliding forward too quickly and making you release his hands in favor of his forearms in a desperate grab for balance. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Tyler was still laughing as he spoke. “Easy there. I’ve got you.” 

“Does not feel like you do,” you grumbled, trying to focus on your feet in order to keep them steady now. 

“Okay, okay,” Tyler sighed. “First, don’t look at your feet. Look where you trying to go.” 

“What direction is home?” you quipped back without missing a beat. 

“Ha, ha,” Tyler replied dryly. “Look at me. You want to go toward me.” 

You let out a quick, irritated breath. You knew a large part of the reason you were irritated is because you were being asked to do something you were terrible at, in front of someone who was amazing at it, who just so also happened to be your boyfriend. No one liked to do things they knew they would be terrible at, let alone in front of someone who was so practiced in it that they probably couldn’t explain it well. In fact, that was your problem that developed after about two minutes with Tyler trying to teach you how to skate. Tyler couldn’t explain how to skate in the slightest. 

“Just push off on one foot, let your other one slide. Put the foot you just pushed off with on the ice again, and push with the one that was sliding. Go back and forth and then tada, you’re skating.” 

That was his best explanation of the lesson and you could confidently surmise that Tyler Seguin was an absolutely horrendous skating coach. And he was a drunk skating coach. Maybe, if you were throwing your boyfriend a bone he didn’t deserve, you could say if he was sober, he might be doing better, but deep in your heart you knew that wasn’t true. Tyler Seguin was definitely a terrible teacher, trying to teach something he could do forwards, backwards, diagonally, with his eyes closed, and made millions of dollars doing, while drunk. You were the one suffering. Tyler was having incredible time watching you flail and grip onto his arms to avoid falling flat on your face. 

“Tyler, help me!” you pressed. 

“It’s so funny. You’re like a baby penguin,” he managed to get out through his laughter. “So cute. So clumsy.” 

“Tyler!”

He cleared his throat and sucked in a deep, centering breath before saying, “I think part of your problem is that you’re afraid to fall. If you aren’t afraid to fall, you’re going to be too focused on doing exactly what’s keeping you from falling and not actually skating.” 

“Well, I don’t exactly want to fall, Ty. That’s not really the goal,” you said pointedly, your hands digging into his forearms when he shifted suddenly. 

“Falling is part of skating,” he told you. “I fall all the time. Get too on an edge or try to turn too tight or get rammed into by some wrecking ball on skates. But I just hop right back up and go again. You have got to get over this fear of falling and learn how to fall and get back up. Otherwise, you’re not going to learn.” 

Whether or not tipsy Tyler meant that statement to have merit and weight outside of the context of skating, you doubted, but it did. That’s the attitude you carried with you when you were at school, at work, everywhere. “It’s better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would've happened if I had tried,” by Alred Lord Tennyson popped into your head. Just maybe Tyler was right about something. Maybe your biggest hurdle was just the one in your head and you needed to, on the most magical of all holidays where miracles came true and the world was a little brighter, take a deep breath and fail spectacularly under the hazy eyes of the boy you loved. 

It didn’t even cross your mind that you were definitely still feeling the affects of that infamous spiked hot chocolate, not even for a second. 

You nodded and took in a deep breath as you did. Tyler raised his eyebrow to check in with you and you nodded again. You released your choking grip on his forearms and Tyler slowly backed up, giving you space to try on your own for a moment. You took a second to pause, your feet shuffling a little out of the natural movement of your body, making your arms flail to steady yourself. It wasn’t pretty, but you managed to stay upright after moving an accidental inch unassisted and for you, that was progress.

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled to yourself. 

You mentalled tossed out every single lesson Tyler had tried to impart on you on the ice that evening, knowing all of it was absolute drunken nonsense and wasn’t going to help you skate. You were better off going with your nonexistent skating instincts, which were just a series of mental clips from probably inaccurate ice skating scenes from terrible Hallmark and Netflix Christmas movies. The actors were never the ones skating, but someone had to for the shot, so you figured it had to be at least partially accurate. You knew if you looked down, you would definitely topple over, you looked out onto the snow covered lawn ahead and hesitantly pushed forward with one foot. Before you started to lose your balance, you took a chance and pushed off on your other foot, letting yourself glide just a little in between. 

“Your first successful skate!” Tyler gasped from somewhere beside you. “I feel like a proud mom at the preschool Christmas pageant.” 

Normally, you would’ve told him exactly where he could stick that comment, but you were focused on trying to make it as far as you could before the precarious house of cards that was you on your skates fell. You had a messy, incredibly atrocious rhythm going now. You knew you had to look ridiculous, partially bent over, arms out wide, tongue stuck out between your teeth in concentration, but you were skating and no one said it had to be pretty to count. You realized one thing too late though, far too late to even begin to do anything about it. Tyler was too far behind you, filming your first skate like the proud soccer mom he was, and far too tipsy to clue into what was about to happen. There was nothing you could do. You just had to accept that this was how your journey would end. 

You hit the edge of the pond roughly, the front half of your skate blades hitting the snow and you unceremoniously face planted into the snow surrounding the edge of the pond. You tried to twist as you fell to make it anything other than a complete face plant, but much like the end result of your first solo skating attempt, you failed spectacularly. Tyler was behind you in a second, dropping down onto his knees in the snow next to you and brushing your hair back to try and get a view of your face. 

“Baby, are you hurt? Oh my god,” Tyler started rambling. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should’ve kept closer to you so I could’ve done something. I should’ve-”

“Maybe you should’ve taught me how to stop, you idiot,” you grumbled out after lifting your face from the snow. “Stopping might have been a good first lesson, you know, like how dads teach you to drive. They make sure you know where the brake is first.” 

“You know,” Tyler mused as you pushed yourself up onto your knees, “that probably would’ve been a good idea.” 

“Oh, ya think?” You glared at him before beginning to brush off snow from your body.

“So next lesson-”

“No way,” you cut him off. “I’m asking Jamie to teach me. You’re fired, coach.” 

Tyler gave a whine that could only be described as like a petulant child who was just told they couldn’t open their Christmas presents two weeks early. He pouted at you, Dallas Stars pom pom beanie on his head flopping forward as he tilted his head to go with his jutted out lower lip. 

“Come on,” he begged softly. “Let me try again. Give me one more shot as your teacher. I’ll even be sober for the next lesson. I promise.” 

“If you aren’t, I’m suing you for damages,” you teased him, a smile coming across your face slowly. 

While you hadn’t succeeded, in fact your fall had been far worse than anything you had pictured it would be, you couldn’t deny you had a good time and it was really only because of the boy whose pout was slowly changing to a smile because of your own. You still couldn’t skate. In fact, you thought you might be a worse skater now than your previous baseline of zero. Tyler hadn’t taught you a single thing this Christmas about skating, but Tyler taught you a lot about Tyler. He liked way too many marshmallows in his spiked hot chocolate, he ripped wrapping paper to absolute shreds, and he relished in matching Christmas sweaters even though he pretended to hate them. You also learned that Tyler Seguin, who sometimes acted before he spoke, and was just a little too over eager for you occasionally, cared more deeply about you than you could possibly understand. Being loved like he loved you was rarer than the perfect Christmas day, which today had been, faceplant included. 

Most of all, you learned Tyler wanted to spend every Christmas for the rest of his life with you too, and that was the best gift you’d ever received on Christmas, the knowledge that he too wanted to spend the rest of his life sharing Christmases with you.

#Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin fanfic #tyler seguin fanfiction #tyler seguin imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #hockey writing #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey imagine

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark’s Girl

part 013/015 “i’m not going anywhere”

previous part // next part

masterlist

word count 3.1k

The Avengers Compound has not changed one bit, albeit the lack of people roaming the halls was hard to ignore. Your first couple months with Nat had gone relatively smoothly and you didn’t have a single blackout episode yet, but you had been taking precautions. You didn’t tune into the news, opting instead for streamed episodes of that Office show tony demanded you finish. Natasha had introduced you to podcasts, but you were careful to avoid any of the ones about “Moving on After the Blip,” or “Remembering before the Blip,” because you were sure you’d lose it. Sometimes you chose to just listen to soft classical music, which was your choice for today. It was the weekend, things had been quiet on the communication end for Natasha, so she dismissed you for a couple days (not that she wouldn’t be able to call for you if she needed, but the idea of having free time was nice.)

Every week you set aside some time to come to the deserted half of the Residence hall.. The rooms that once were lived in by other Avengers were abandoned, and this was one of the most glaring reminders of what was lost four years ago. You had a pattern that you always stuck to, and you always started with Sam’s room, clearing off any dust that may have accumulated and repositioned the knick knacks that adorned the shelves that lined the walls. There were pictures of him with his flight partner wearing the wings that Sam had made his own. 

Vision’s room was a little more bare. And by a little more you mean it was basically two chairs and a painting. Nonetheless you made sure the painting always hung straight and no dust dared to stay on the famous Mulberry Tree. Sometimes you’d stop and wonder why Vision had chosen this painting out of everything, and almost always you opted for the answer that Vision admired Van Gogh’s acknowledgement of no matter his place in the world, all he could do was carry on and paint. Maybe that resonated with Vision, especially given his connection with Wanda.

Wanda’s room was more homey, you had always admired what she had done with the place. There had been a number of times she’d let you come in with a bowl of popcorn and you both would watch old timey sitcoms together. You took great care in making sure her room was exactly how she left it, and made sure to replace the vanilla sage wall scent just in case.

The last room that you often avoided was Steve’s. Nat said that he stopped by often for laundry purposes and to check in, but you had yet to see him since you moved back in. Was it an invasion of privacy or was it a nice gesture since you’d done everyone else’s? With a deep breath and steady hand, you pushed open Steve’s door and turned the light on and took in the sight.

It was almost exactly how you remembered it. The bed remained untouched all this time, still made perfectly just how Steve had done every morning. No one must’ve come in here in awhile, or maybe Steve did the last time he had come to see Nat, because there was a faint hint of his cologne in the air. You did notice that the small touches Steve did have in here were long gone, the only hint that anything had adorned the shelving in the room was the faint outlines that were slowly but surely being covered by dust. You hesitantly ran a dust rag over the shelving, going row by row before beeping interrupted your cleaning regime.

“Stupid earphones,” you grumbled and took them out your ear and shoved them into your pockets. You made a note to self to charge them when you went back to your room (and not run them through the washer like you did with tony’s pair that one time). You reached down for the windex to spray the mirror that hung on the wall when you gasped at the sight of someone standing behind you.

“What the hell, Steve,” you exclaimed. 

Steve stood in the doorway holding a basket with what looked like a heap of clothing in it. The small smile that graced his face let you know that he was amused, and not afraid to show it. “So we’re breaking and entering now?”

The callback to your first meeting post-Siberia fallout didn’t fall flat. You stood a little straighter and motioned towards the door. “I um.. I did the other’s and thought I should do yours too.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” Steve confirmed. He took small strides into the room, never giving off more than a casual vibe, and set his basket down on the bed. Steve proceeded to start folding the clothes he pulled out and you weren’t sure if you should leave or not, but the feeling was quickly squashed. “Don’t let me stop you from your routine.”

The term he used made you raise a brow, but you also didn’t question him on how he knew of your routine. Instead, you turned back to the mirror and sprayed it down, and wiped away the liquid with paper towels. The only sound in the room was the light squeaks made from your wipes, and the soft sound of his clothes falling into folded piles. When you finished you turned around and set the windex in the carrier you had with more cleaning supplies which caused him to look up from what he was doing. “Right I should.. Get out your way.”

You grabbed the carrier with no objection from Steve and made your way to the door. As much as it pained you to admit it, sometimes you missed his company. Steve had always been the one person you felt at home with, besides Tony and his family of course. But with Steve it was like.. Like how Pepper and Morgan were to Tony.. His family. Steve had begun to feel like yours, and maybe that’s why it was hard to not have that anymore. But his voice tore you from your thoughts, and froze you in your tracks. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“What?” You asked, unsure if he was even speaking to you. You turned around to him and he indeed was looking your way, folding a shirt in the process.

“Have you had dinner?” He asked again.

“Uh,” you checked your wrist and the watch you were wearing blinked back up at you that it was 6:45. “Actually no I haven’t.”

“Nat was planning on a late night to catch Rhodey on an update on a mission,” Steve started, placing the shirt he was folding down behind him and meeting your gaze again. “I was thinking Thai?”

You didn’t answer right away, averting your gaze to the floor in thought, which made Steve smile. “Oh come on.. I know it’s your favorite.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and raise a brow at him. “We’ve resorted to bribery?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Steve admitted. You found yourself biting your lip and finally gave him a nod.

“Alright, I’m game, but only if I get some of those little cheese rolls,” you countered. Steve nodded with a grin on his face.

“Deal. I have another load finishing but let’s meet in the kitchen in.. Thirty?” He asked.

You nodded in agreement and took a step back out the room, “Thiry.”

It was a nerve wrecking thirty minutes. Did you dress up? Why would you even dress up? Steve was just being.. Nice. That was all! And you weren’t so easily swayed with the offer of food, though the grumbling in your stomach said otherwise. When you had caught a glimpse of yourself you hurriedly changed out of the disheveled shirt you had been wearing and threw on some sweater you had found in your closet. It was warm and cozy, but also more put together. Did you want to look put together? God, why were you even stressing out like this? Steve and you were done, finished, over.. But you couldn’t help but think back to his smile. The damn smile was enough to make your head feel light. You tapped your phone against your thigh when a message came thru from Nat, and you scoffed at it.

Nat: Give me a heads up if things get steamy, I don’t want to hear make up sex tonight.

You weren’t going to reply, even when she double texted using that winky face emoji with its tongue out. You opened your bedside drawer and tossed your phone in there and decided you weren't going to stress about this anymore. You were going to go down to the kitchen and enjoy your favorite food from your favorite place (did Steve remember that too?) and.. See what happens. Go with the flow is what Tony always told you right? You didn’t want to stop and think if that applied to dealing with Steve again, and instead threw open your door and made your way to the kitchen.

The sweet and savory aroma that filled your nose as you came into sight was welcomed, and the sight of the familiar logo of the restaurant made you even more giddy. Steve did remember. He was pulling out take out boxes and the given chopsticks and dressings when he glanced up to see you approaching, and cracked a smile while he continued to lay everything out. “I think I remembered everything.. Shrimp pad thai, level three spice.. Let’s see..”

He drifted off as you watched him pull out another smaller box and give a little nod to himself. “Soft spring rolls with the peanut sauce,” he paused and pulled the small container of liquid out of the bag. “And as promised, an order of cheese rolls.”

He set everything aside and you chuckled, “Wow you really remembered everything down to the sauce.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of my word,” he motioned to the rest of the common space. “Maybe we can watch something while we eat?”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, and carefully with stacked takeout boxes, Steve and you made your way over to the common area, sitting on the same couch but with a comfortable space between you two. The night divulged into the two of you eating dinner, and Steve had picked one of the shows Wanda had introduced him to, called I Love Lucy. You weren't sure how long you both had stayed in the same spots, but the food was long gone, and it was pitch black outside. But you were.. Comfortable. You were enjoying his presence, though you both did still keep your distance. It was significantly colder now since there wasn’t much movement in the room, and you sat back with your legs under you and arms crossed over your body, your sweater no longer much help.

Steve took notice a while ago and had periodically checked his watch. The time neared closer to 11, and knowing you sooner or later you would fall out. The lights may have been dimmed but he could see the way your hands pulled your sweater cuffs to cover your fingers. But you didn’t make a move, which he didn’t know why. Well.. He kind of knew why because he had felt the same way. He was just as nervous as you were, but he didn’t want to see you suffer in silence. “It’s gotten a bit chilly, I’m gonna grab a blanket real quick.”

You had let out a small mhm, and Steve stood and walked over to the cabinets that surrounded the tv you both were watching, and grabbed one to use. He proceeded to sit back where he had been all night, and spread the blanket over his lap. As he fiddled with the fabric he glanced your way and saw you eyeing the soft cover, and he lifted the part closest to you. “There’s plenty to share if you want?”

You weren’t so hesitant this time. Steve only held the blanket open for you for a few seconds before you grabbed a hold of it and slid yourself closer to him so the blanket covered you fully. You glanced his way as you made yourself comfortable right by his side, and cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You knew what he was doing, you weren’t completely blind to it, but you also were grateful that he wasn’t making it a big deal. Because it wasn’t right? It was just two adults watching tv, who had dinner together, and sharing a blanket. Totally, completely innocent. You were forced to refocus on the screen when Steve shifted next to you, and his arm draped on the couch behind you.

Innocent enough.. Right?

Steve was relaxing, he was getting comfortable. A few minutes passed before you decided to unwind a bit too. You relaxed deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket up a little higher, and let out a content sigh. In all honesty you couldn’t remember the last time you felt at peace like this. And it was thanks to Steve, which was a little infuriating to admit (because he knew what he was doing, you were sure of that). 

Steve was unsure what was running through your mind, but he knew it must’ve been working a hundred miles a minute. He tried his best to focus on the episodes that passed by, not even aware of how much time had passed when he felt you fall into his side. He glanced down and there you were, laying into his side with closed eyes, and it made him check his watch. Sure enough it was past midnight, which was right on time for you. He could hear the heavy exhales, and he moved very carefully.

The arm he had draped on the back of the couch (in all honesty, in preparation for this moment) he lowered down to hook around you, and used his hand to pull the blanket up higher. Steve kept his arm wrapped around you and relaxed back into the couch, then with his free hand he grabbed the remote and shut the tv off, the bright light fading from the room. The only cast of light came from further down the hall, and allowed him to fully gaze down at you.

Steve had forgotten how peaceful you looked while sleeping, even despite what he knew was running through your mind. So Steve did what he thought was best, he closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep too.

Nat was not prepared to walk into the kitchen early in the morning and catch Rogers and you cuddling on the common room couch. But boy was she living for it. During her morning routine she had a shit eating grin on her face, and prepared her coffee as silently as she could. The coffee pot warmed up with a soft hum, she had made sure to load it with coffee grounds quietly, and when it was ready to be poured she opened up the cabinet, grabbed a mug, and closed it as loud as she could.

Bang.

The sudden noise was enough to startle you, causing your eyes to peel open and be met with the glaring sunlight that poured into..

Oh no. The common room. You were still in the common room.

Your eyes darted to where the sound had come from and there was Nat smiling into her coffee mug, and you slowly shifted your gaze up to Steve who was just waking up. You were now very aware that he was holding you which therefore meant you were cuddling with him. You had never gotten up so fast in your life, pulling the blanket up with you. Steve glanced Natasha’s way and then back at you, who was rolling the blanket up rapidly. “Oh-”

“I’m so sorry,” you offered, and even offered him the blanket back. Steve, with a raised brow, took the balled up blanket with one hand and you proceeded to shake his other. “Thank you for the dinner, Steve.”

And then you were gone in a flash. Steve sighed and set the balled up blanket down and rubbed his face with his hand when a chuckle from the kitchen. Natasha took a couple steps closer to him, and rested her shoulder against a wall. “You’re certainly playing with fire.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Steve replied as he stood from the couch. Natasha shrugged and tapped her fingers against the mug in her hands. “We fell asleep.”

“All I’m saying is you told me you were going to just ask to have dinner and call it a night.. But here we are,” she couldn’t help but laugh at the end of that statement and Steve rolled his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just.. Well it’s kind of cute how much you’re trying to deny you didn’t plan this.”

Steve shook his head, and without another word to Natasha he headed to your room. It was a familiar route, right down the hall from his old room, and the door was closed when he finally got there. He lightly tapped his knuckles against the door and rested his shoulder against the frame. He could hear the creak from your bed and your feet hit the floor, and in a few seconds you pulled open the door and blinked up at him.

“Hi,” Steve offered.

“Hi,” you replied back. You didn’t move and neither did he and Steve sighed.

“I’m sorry if that was.. Too much. Just wanted some company last night and lost track of time-”

“I’m sorry for falling asleep on you,” you cut him off. Steve couldn’t help the lopsided smile that spread over his face.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he reassured you. For a second a smile formed over your lips, but then it faded, and your expression fell.

“Steve… What are we doing here?” You asked him point blank. Steve inhaled deeply before lightly shrugging his shoulders.

“I guess I’m just.. Trying to do the right thing,” Steve offered. You smiled sadly at him and he motioned his hand at you. “I missed you and just.. I wanted to do something nice.”

“It was nice, Steve,” you whispered to him before taking a deep breath. “But I’m.. Not ready-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to you. You met his gaze and he shook his head lightly at you, not breaking that eye contact. “As long as it takes.. I’ll wait.”

Steve meant what he said, and sure enough he started to come by more. He offered his companionship and in slow strides you accepted his invitations.. But one question looms.

Was Steve going to keep his word?

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist // message me to be added or feel free to add yourself!!

@elliee1497 @iizabxlla @bulbasor-charmander-2020 @littlemoistcarrot @dottirose @meraki–mei @littledaph @fckdusername @bisexuwhale9669 @mottergirl99 @vxidnik @anabutnotpro @ilovesupersoldiers @incorrect-artist @caseymcflurry @robindoesntloveme @cherryara @fightforspring @annetries @petlaufeyson @weasleyisourjedi @loganrwebb @marinettepotterandplagg @snarky–starky @emotionalcal @feelmyroarrrr @chewymoustachio @cass4nova @holy-rosewater @natdrunk @botchedzucchini  @booksarebae2000​  @chelseaxaz  @stealapizzamyheart

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x stark!reader #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers fic #Stark siblings #stark!reader #tony stark x sister!reader

[please-buckme]

Yes, Master. - Anakin Skywalker x reader

⚠️Warnings: SMUT✨, name calling, angry Ani, soft Ani, ANI!

3,436 words

(I didn’t make this gif! Idk why it says ‘when’ but I kinda like it.)

Today was a dark day. You could hear the rain beating against the window of your apartment window. Your covers still warm from your body heat as you lie there motionless in your bed. You can still feel the dried up tears on your cheeks from the night before, covered with fresh new tears from this morning. Today you would be finding out who your new master would be and you couldn't bare the thought of it. You told them time and time again that you didn't need a new master, that any day now you should be testing out of being a Padawan.  They insisted though. Since losing your master on her last mission you hadn't even left your room, she was like a sister to you and the only person you really talked to on a day-to-day basis. You missed her deeply. You tried to reach out to her through the Force but could never seem to find her. Was this her way of helping you move on?

Nevertheless you had to listen to the council. If they insist you be placed with a new master, then that is how it shall be. There's only one tall, annoying, arrogant and selfish problem with that, Anakin Skywalker. You knew that he among very few were left without a Padawan and you prayed to the stars every night that you wouldn't end up with him as your master.

You and Anakin were around the same age. You were both put into training around the same time and there wasn't a day where you remembered liking him. Telling a young boy that he is the chosen one.. not good for the ego. You had trained together most of your life and as you both grew older you started to feel how strong he had become with the Force. You went from winning every now and then to never being able to even pull out your training saber. So, it didn't surprise you when he became a master. It did however infuriate you. You weren't as good as him of course but you had amazing fighting skills for your age and you, for many years, were an even much for Anakin. You were so enraged that you actually stopped seeing or even talking to Anakin for a while, almost two years by now. You were a little nervous to see him if he were to be at the council meeting. You didn't understand these nervous feelings though. Anakin is Anakin and you loathe him.

After you had finally given yourself a few more minutes of starring-at-the-ceiling time you got up and got ready before leaving for your meeting. You paced slowly down the long corridors greeting fellow Jedi as they walked by. You could feel your heart beat ripping through your chest as you reached the doors to were the council sat awaiting your arrival. You placed your hands to the cold metal doors taking a deep breathe as a nauseous feeling came up from your stomach. Taking in one more deep breathe you opened the doors . You scanned the room to see who all was there. Masters Plo Koon, Windu, Kenobi and Ki-Adi-Mundi. Okay. You thought. No Anakin. Just then you heard the doors open from behind you.

"Sorry I'm late. I was on planet Alderaan when I got word that you needed me back at the temple." Anakin voiced from behind you. Master Windu put a hand out signalling Anakin to take a seat. He walked quickly to find his seat but when he passed you it felt like everything had gone into slow motion. He glanced up at you for a second not seeming to recognize you. You could tell when he realized who you were when he gave you a crooked smirk before continuing his trek to where he would sit and stare at you with that devilish smile.

"Shall we begin?" Master Kenobi suggests. You nod your head and give him a faint smile. "Now, miss (Y/L/N), we are very sorry for your lose, for all our lose but the time has come for us all to move on. As you know you are hear to be reassigned to a new master and-" You cut Obi-Wan off.

"With all do respect Master Kenobi, I feel I no longer need a master. I am ready to finally show you what my training has--" Obi-Wan signals for you to stop.

"I am sorry my dear but the tragedy of losing your master has put you very behind. Now, in a few months I do believe that you will be fully prepared to test. And who better to show you the ropes than an old friend, Master Skywalker." Shit .

"You can't be serious." Anakin said from your left. "This girl is unteachable. We don't even get along and we aren't  friends." You can see the anger written on Anakins face. You couldn't agree more with everything but the 'unteachable' part.

"Master Skywalker!" Master Windu exclaimed. "The council has decided that this is how we want to proceed with miss (Y/L/N) training." Anakin now has his face nuzzled into his hands. "Look, you are both familiar with each other and have already trained together many times before. It's only for a few months until she's back on her feet and ready to test. This meeting was to assign miss (Y/L/N) to a new master and look we've done just that. This council meeting is now over. Good luck and may the force be with you, (Y/L/N).

"Yes great.. uhh same to you, Master Windu." You gave them all a weak smile before turning to leave yourself when Anakin grabbed you by the arm.

"What the hell was that? How did you get them to agree with this idiotic plan?" Anakin questioned. You could feel the anger radiating from him.. His eyebrows were scrunched together and almost touching, his nose was narrow as his nostrils flared and his lips were pierced tight making them turn white.

"You shouldn't do that with your face, Ani. It doesn't look good on you." You gesture your hand towards his face and he grabbed your wrist, with his metal hand, aggressively. "h-um ouch?"

"You don't get to call me that anymore. It's only Master Skywalker from now on." He brought his face down to yours so that you're now eye level with him. You smirk and start to laugh.

"Really? And, uh, what are you gonna do if I disobey you, Ani." You whisper his name into his mouth. His face was now burning red. his grip on your wrist tightens as he drags you out of the room and into the hall. You're practically running behind him to keep up. "Mind giving me my arm back?" You try to pry yourself from his grip but of course you can't. You now see that he is dragging you towards the elevators. "Wh-where are we going?" You feel that nauseous feeling in your stomach again.

When the elevator finally opens he throws you in against the back wall. You feel a sting of pain in your back from the impact but all of a sudden Anakins body is pressed firmly atop of yours. You look up to stare directly into his beautiful blue eyes but before you fall too far into his trance you look away and start to push him off of you. He takes both of your hands into his metal one and locks them in place. "First lesson, obedience." He lifts your body from the wall and slams you back into it. Your head now stings and your vision is a little blurry but you're actually, in a weird way, enjoying this side of him. He has been aggressive towards you before but this time was different. This time you could practically smell the sexual tension. "We're going up to my floor and I want you stripped and on your knees the second these doors open. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Master." He groans in response at your words. You free one of your hands from his grip and palm him over his pants. You hear a low raspy growl come from his throat as he leans into your hand. You audibly laugh. "Touch deprived are we, Master?" He picks you up from the wall and slams you into in again making you moan and wince in pain.

The doors finally opens and he throws you to the floor. "Crawl to the bed." You do as he says and make your way to the bedroom. You feel his boot kick you along as to hurry you up. Once you get there you sit on your knees as you look up at him with lust filled eyes. "Didn't I tell you to strip?" You quickly undo your belt before taking off the rest of your clothing besides your bra and panties, both a lacy soft pink color. You sit straight up still on your knees as he towers over you. You reach out for his growing member still confined in his pants.

"May I, Master?" He nods in response as you undo his belt whilst palming him again. You kiss the tip of his cock before outlining it with your tongue. "Does that feel good, Master." You teased.

"It'd feel better down your throat." He groans now tangling his fingers throw your hair.

"Yes, Master." You kiss the tip one last time before grabbing at the hem of his pants and underwear and pulling them down. You watched as his cock sprang free from its clothed prison and stared in awe. You drooled at the sight, grabbing him at the base and slowly running your hand up and down his member. you could feel every vein as they pulsated at your touch. You watch as precum poured from the tip. You look up at him as you licked up the precum with a flick of your tongue and watched as Anakin twitched above you. You then lifted at the base to lick a line up from the base to the tip before lightly sucking on the tip. Anakin didn't bring you up here for you to tease him though. With the fist full of your hair, he thrust until your mouth was completely filled. he groaned as profanities slipped from his clenched teeth. Anakin felt so good in your mouth. You started to feel the nervousness in your stomach turn into burning passion. You reached down with your free and started rubbing yourself over your panties.

"You like my cock in your mouth, slut" You moan in responds which makes him thrust deeper into your throat. "That's good, baby girl, open your throat for your master." You moaned again allowing him to thrust deeper and deeper till he bottomed out. After a few more deep thrusts he pulled all the way out of your mouth with a pop. You were left there on your knees panting for air with drool dripping from your mouth and chin.

"Lay down on the bed." He demands while hoisting you up to stand from your kneeling position and throwing you to the bed. You watch as he strips from his remaining clothes. Your breathe hitched in your throat when he strips of his tunic and reveals his beautifully toned.. everything.

When he walks over to you you sit up and softly run your fingers down his torso, tracing his perfectly defined abs gently. "You're so.. beautiful, Ani." You can feel a little chuckle erupt from his belly as he softly pets the back of your head. A few more strokes to your hair before he pulls it hard making you look up at him.

"I thought I told you not to call me that, slut. Lay down." He demands through gritted teeth. You move to the pillows that smell like him, fragranced with mineral shampoo and sweat, not the bad kind of sweat but the sleepless kind. Even just the smell of his pillows makes him even more beautiful.

You see Anakin out of the corner of your eye stroking himself before crawling onto the bed towards you. Seeing his figure coming atop you makes you breathless, almost dizzy. You reach up to his chest just so you're touching him in some way. An unexceptional moan escapes your lips at the touch of his warm, tan skin. 'So beautiful.' You mouth trying desperately not to make another involuntary sound.

You look up now to see Anakin observe your actions before making eye contact with you. You pause as your eyes meet. You bring your other hand up cautiously to his face whilst the other travels down further.

After all these years you never would have guessed this would happen. You never noticed just how gorgeous he was under all that armor. You run your fingers across the scar beside his right eye and he pulls away a bit. "Anakin." You say softly pulling his face back to align with yours. He looks at you harshly for a second before you lean in and kiss his scar softly. "Everything about you is so.. perfect. Even your scars." You kiss your way down his cheek making your way down to his lips. You hesitate for a second before Anakin leans in and initiate the kiss.  You moan into the kiss as if you'd been waiting a thousand years to kiss this man. The kiss was so passionate and rough. You could feel his teeth graze against yours as it deepened into a more desperate and sloppy kiss.

Your right hand had finally made it to the base of his member. You stroked him a few times before aligning him with your entrance.  Anakin then glided into your slick pussy agonizingly slowly until you could feel him almost hitting your cervix. He holds himself in place as groans fall from his plump, blistered lips and onto yours. Anakin pauses. He pulls away from the kiss and glances over your body. You bring your hands up to his hips to let him know he can move but your hands were quickly thrown over your head by Anakin's favorite restraint, the Force.

You watch him while he steadies himself inside you. He slowly runs his hands down the bed until they meet your hips. The sudden contact makes you buck your hips up at him and you get a very low growl in response. You see his large hands envelope your waist as they ascend up your body.

"Anakin?" You say softly. In response he says nothing, just glares at you for a moment before he goes back to memorizing every inch of your body. You can feel the calluses on his palm as they scratch at your skin. You'd always imagined how his flesh hand would feel when you'd train for hours on end. You knew they'd be rough.  He moves them up your sides which tickled but you didn't laugh because all you could focus on was his cock. You could feel your walls clenching around him tightly as he pulsed inside of you. He then graced over your breasts squeezing them gently and flicking his thumb over the pink buds before one hand moved up to your face and swept a piece of hair away and the other, the metal one, stuck one digit in your mouth. You moaned at the feeling of metal on your tongue, his metal that is. He then pulled it from your mouth and connected it to your clit. 

"Say, Master wreck my pussy." he says in a low rasp as he draws tiny circles, with his metal digit, on your clit.

"Master, uh, Master, please wreck my pussy"

"Again." He pulls out slowly.

"Please wreck my pussy, Master." He slams back into you.

"Again." He pulls out and slams back into.

"Fuck!"  You screech at the sudden movement. Your moans were shaky now, along with your hips.

"I said again!" He then brings his metal hand from drawing circles on your clit to now wrap them around your neck. He pressed down gently at first but the longer you waited to say it the harder he pressed.

"Plea-se please wreck my pussy, Master" he pulls all the way out this time so all you can feel is the tip and your juices that came with it on the outside your warm cunt.

"Again." He growled from the loss of you tightly wrapped around him.

"Please, Master Skywalker, wreck my pussy!" With that he slammed back into you even harder as his grip on your neck tightened. He let out a loud groan before releasing your neck which you're sure is bruised now. Anakin is thrusting in and out of you at a vigorous pace making you squirm beneath him. Your moans were now screams of pleasure as Anakin wrecked your pussy.

You could tell he was getting close by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming but you weren't ready for him to cum yet. You wanted to play.

"Does my pussy feel good, Master?" You look up at him innocently. He nods in response. "I, uhh god, I-I didn't hear you, Master. Does my pussy feel good wrapped around your cock, Master?" He nods in response again with a whispered 'yes'. Just then you feel the Force weaken around your wrists. You take this opportunity to bring them up to his shoulders and push him out of you, making you both groan loudly and you can see the anger in his face. He goes to reach for your neck again but you had other plans in mind. You now use the Force and stop his wrist. He's very strong so whatever you were going to do had to be quick. You then get up from the bed and tell him to sit down on the edge. He does as you command just wanting to be back inside of you. You then seat yourself in his lap and softly grind on his cock.

"Tell me how good I make you feel, Master." He throws his head back as you kiss and nibble at his neck. "Tell me how good your cock felt in my dripping, wet pussy, Master." You grabbed his cock at the base and slid your pussy up his shaft before hovering over the tip.

"So fucking good, princess." You slid yourself back down his cock with ease. You take him at a slow pace until you're fucking him the way he had been fucking you. He's a moaning mess under you and the sight of him brings you closer to your high.

"Do you want to feel me cum around your cock?" You say shakily.

"Y-yes, baby." He brings his hands up to your back to steady you.

"Make me cum on your cock, Master. Please." Anakin groans loudly before he throws your legs over his arms and lifts you up whilst pounding into you fiercely. With that you come almost instantly. You scream in pleasure as he finishes you off. Your legs are a shaking mess and you're eyesight is flushed with ecstasy making you see nothing but stars.

After you come down from your high he throws you back onto the bed. He makes you lay down as he aligns his hips with your shoulders. You gladly take him into your mouth as he bottoms out in your throat once again. He's holding your head between both hands as he feeds you his cock. It doesn't take him long before you feel him twitch on your tongue. He lets out a low raspy growl as he climaxes in your mouth.

Once he pulls out of your mouth you let some his cum slip out onto your face, feeling the warm liquid drizzle down your check and into your messy hair.

"Swallow it." He demands. You do as you're told and lick the remaining cum off your cheek.

"Good girl." He says now dismounting and laying down next to you.

That was the best sex you'd ever had and you hate him for that. After your breathing settles you pop up from his bed and get dressed as he watches you. After getting all your clothes on and situate your hair you head to the front door.

"Same time next week?" Anakin calls out after you. You giggle to yourself before turning back around to see the that beautiful mess staring back at you.

"Yes, Master."

xMasterlist.x

#master ani #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #fanfic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker gif #anakin skywalker smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars anakin #darth vader

[gaythingliker69]

Platinum Wings - Part I

Mary Saotome sighed and glanced at her laptop on the desk. The front reception where she sat was small - a desk running along the right hand side of the rectangular room, with a door to the back situated behind Mary. The front door itself was on her left, offering a window into the semi-busy street beyond. She heard the hustle and bustle of late morning taking place outside, and prayed she didn’t have to turn away anyone looking for a consultation or anyone wanting an impromptu small job. Frankly, she couldn’t afford to - running an independent tattoo parlour was more expensive than she’d imagined. Finally, she found the name she was looking for, her next client - Ririka Momobami.

Momobami. The name sounded familiar, a heavy weight sitting static in Mary’s head that felt wrong on her tongue. It contrasted to the given name, which felt light and almost airy as she rolled it around in her head and even said it under her breath. She caught herself, and tried to snap out of it. She was a client. Hell, Mary didn’t even know what she looked like.

Mary was snapped from her reverie by the sound of the door opening. A woman poked her head around the door, rosy cheeks and piercing turquoise eyes framed by platinum blonde hair. Mary was stunned momentarily - her face matched her name, seeming to radiate a warm sort of energy that felt so familiar, yet completely alien at the same time.

“Is this Mary’s?” asked Ririka, her voice so soft she was nearly drowned out by the noise of the street.

“Uh, y-yeah, that’s me,” said Mary, cursing her nerves and trying to regain her composure. “You’re Ririka, right?”

The woman nodded and moved into the shop, revealing she wore a plain white tank top and jeans, carrying a simple black bag that didn’t have an apparent brand. She sat at the desk opposite Mary.

“So… you said you wanted wings on your back? Are you thinking angel or animal?” Mary asked, scalding hersekf for asking too many questions far too quickly.

“Yeah, I was thinking angel wings. On the back of my ribs, starting from either side of my spine. I’d like them sort of tucked into like a resting position so they run down my back, not spread out. I’ve got a picture in my bag if you want to see.”

“Yeah, that’d be really helpful, thanks.”

Ririka pulled out a piece of paper, turning it to reveal the image. The wings sprouted from what looked like new bones, almost like a second set of shoulder blades, curling up into an arch, then dropping down, feathers layering over each other in a cascade, narrowing as they went until they hit a tip of a single feather, which Mary assumed would be past the bottom of Ririka’s ribs towards her hips.

“So I was thinking, the wings start just below my shoulder blades by my spine. They arc up so the top of the bend goes onto my shoulder a little bit, then go back down the back of my ribs.”

Mary stared at the image, watching Ririka’s elegant fingers indicate the different parts of the wings. Her nails were perfect - hardly a mark or chip to be seen. She realised silence hung over them, and she had to speak, to respond to Ririka’s… no, the client’s wishes.

“Yeah! Yeah, absolutely. I can get started shortly if you want.”

“Okay!” said Ririka, her face lighting up and radiating that same warm energy again.

Mary gestured to the door behind her, and Ririka rounded the desk and went through. The back room had what looked like a weird sort of recliner in the centre, but it was slightly worn and beaten, it’s black surface frayed at the edges. The dark red walls were partially decorated with pictures and concepts Mary had done over the years, and the only window was blocked by white shutters. One design seemed to be an album cover, a stereotypical skull with sharp typeface surrounding it. Another was a mix of flags, flagpoles crossed, linking the individual flags together at a common cross-section , a date etched below them. Another was a dove, soaring away from what appeared to be a black line, the vibrant life clear in its eyes and wings. Another picture bore the visage of Medusa, the individual fangs and tongue of each snake visible as her deep frown offered an odd air of protection.

“I’ll lower the chair, and then if you’d lie down on your front? Make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

Ririka nodded as Mary fiddled with the back of the chair, eventually lowering it into more of a bench. Mary went to prepare the ink, her heart racing in her chest, so loud she was sure Ririka heard it. She needed to stay calm - this was a tattoo, this was permanent. If she ever wanted a chance with this girl…

No. Don’t think like that. Just do your job. She kept preparing the ink and needles, trying to ignore the sound of falling clothes and shifting on the bench behind her. Eventually, she turned and oh my god Ririka didn’t have a shirt on. Of course she didn’t. She was lying on her front, back to the air. It was a back tattoo, she’d done these hundreds of times on loads of people. Some of the hottest people she’d ever seen. But she felt nervous here, something she couldn’t afford to feel. This was different, a part of her kept insisting. She knew that part of her was right, deep down, but she couldn’t acknowledge it for now.

“Would you like music, Ririka?” Mary asked. God that name sounded musical, like a collection of chimes blowing perfectly in the wind.

“Please. Something soft? I’m not sure if you have that, but I need something to drift through the pain on, you know?”

“Of course!” responded Mary, moving to get the lo-fi playlist on her phone. “You’re the first person to ask for music like this… most people go for Cane Hill, Five Finger Death Punch, In Hearts Wake, stuff you can power through pain on. Or some people have no music abs grit their teeth.”

“I don’t know who any of those babds are, honestly. But if no one ever used the playlist, why’d you keep it around?”

Mary stopped, looked at her phone, and looked at the woman laying on the chair. She thought for a second, her brow creasing slightly.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought someone would need it, one day, and it didn’t do any harm to keep it.”

Ririka nodded, satisfied by an answer that felt, in a way, too personal for two people who’d known each other all of ten minutes.

Mary lined up her chair and light to work from. Using Ririka’s picture for reference, she traced the outline of Ririka’s wings onto tracing paper. She disinfected Ririka’s back, and laid the stencil down gently on her back, patting it down with reverence. Reverence Mary didn’t know she was capable of. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by more disinfecting, Mary gently peeled off the stencil.

“It looks good to me, you wanna check the mirror?”

Ririka stood up, and Mary averted her eyes in panic. Obviously there was no need to stare, but why was she acting like this? She needed to snap out of it.

“It all looks good to me,” said Ririka, lying back down and allowing Mary to be free of her panic.

“Ok, so this’ll hurt a bit in a few places. The ‘blades’ next to your spine and any ink around your actual shoulder blades or muscle at the top here,” she gently tapped the muscle in between Ririka’s neck and shoulder, her finger tingling with some kind of amazing energy from the small contact. “Do you want anything to bite on?”

“No, thank you, I should be okay.”

“Am I okay to start then?” asked the artist, her voice coming out much more softly than she intended. “Just say if you need a break, okay?”

Ririka nodded, settling into the bench as Mary adjusted her light. The noise of the machine drowned out the music slightly, but Ririka didn’t complain. She was a bit tense - everyone was for their first time. But she was strong, enduring the pain as the needles moved up towards her shoulder blades. As they reached the arch, a single tear dropped from her left eye. Mary moved to stop the machine, her heart wrenching, begging her, screaming at her to turn it off.

“No. Keep going.”

Her steely determination showed through in her eyes, almost foggy with tears, and Mary did as Ririka asked. She didn’t normally stop anyway, why was this different? Ririka seemed to ease as Mary moved down her back, only tensing up again slightly as she completed the basic outline by her spine. Next, Mary added layer on layer of feathers, keeping Ririka’s picture there like a guiding star. Ririka hummed to the faint music, seeming to just allow the pain to go over her instead of putting on some dramatic performance like some of the people Mary tattooed. But Mary knew when it hurt, as all of her clients gave off different signs. Ririka was more obvious, squeezing her eyes shut and sometimes biting her lip. Mary scalded herself again, watching the client’s face instead of her back. She eventually completed the first wing, and the muffled buzz of the machine stopped.

“I’m half done. Are you doing okay down there?” Mary asked, trying not to sound like she cared too much, but like she would act for her other clients. She failed.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m ready for the other half whenever you are.”

Mary got back to work, trying to focus all her attention on the piece at hand. Trying to ignore the gentle slope of Ririka’s shoulders, the small movements of her chest as she breathed, the soft valley of her lower back…

Mary nearly blushed as she worked. What was wrong with her? Well, she knew what was ‘wrong’. But now wasn’t the time. Not when she was working. As she inked over Ririka’s shoulders, her heart wrenched again, telling her to turn the machine off as it was so obvious she was hurting Ririka. But she pushed on, like Ririka would have wanted, finishing the wing in the same way she had the first, Ririka relaxing as the needle moved away from her shoulders. She turned the machine off after etching in the last of the detail, it’s constant buzz replaced by deep breaths and the music, still playing quietly.

“Ok, so I need to moisturise and bandage it, then you should be ok to get up.”

Mary took the moisturiser, gently working it into Ririka’s back and shoulders, being careful not to hurt her any more than she had. Her heart wrenched again as Ririka caught her breath due to the pain on her shoulders. For the third time, Mary tried to stop it. For the third time, she failed. Her hands felt on fire as she worked the moisturiser across the new tattoo - they felt more alive than any part of her ever had. It was like sparks or fire flowed through her hands. She was a conductor of her own nervous energy and feelings, and also her hope Ririka felt the same way. Mary gently laid a bandage across Ririka’s upper back and shoulders, tenderly pressing it down.

“Okay, I’m finished, you can take the bandage off after a few hours,” Mary’s voice was still soft, not her usual tone.

Ririka stood up, and Mary averted her eyes, busying herself with disinfectant. She heard Ririka pull her clothes over her head, looking up as she heard the woman move towards the door. Mary sat back at her small reception, and Ririka paid. Mary hardly registered the amount - all she saw was the afternoon sun through platinum blonde. Mary handed her an aftercare booklet, still in her daze. But then she realised - this was her chance.

“R-Ririka?”

She back from the door. She was about to leave. This was Mary’s only chance. The sun shone in her eyes now, and they sparkles like the most beautiful ocean, their depth unknowable but their beauty clear as day. Maybe the sparkle was hope.

“You know… you know… if you ever needed anything else doing, you have my number?”

Ririka seemed to deflate a little, or maybe it was Mary’s imagination.

“Yeah, of course. Thank you Mary, you’ve been wonderful.”

She left. The door closed. Mary’s stomach pitched, and a deep hole opened in her chest. She sat back in her chair, and now her tears were the only ones being shed in the parlour.

#kkg #kakegurui xx #kakegurui #mary satome #ririka momobami #meariri #mary x ririka #ririka x mary #tattoo shop au

[neon-junkie]

Jack's done it. He's defeated Ross and taken his revenge. Jack was hoping he'd at least feel somewhat happy about the whole ordeal, but once he crosses the bridge back into New Austin, he realizes that he feels no different. Jack's always known that he's alone in this world, with his family gone and no friends, he has nobody apart from the nag he rides. Maybe he is the last of his kind, a cowboy, or whatever civilized folk want to call him. A glass of whiskey is drunk as he stands over his parents' graves. Normally, he talks to them, telling them what he's done today; but today he remains silent, knowing they'd both give him disapproving looks if he confessed the sin he'd just committed, even if he did view it as right. The rest of his evening is spent just like every other evening, doing a few chores then retiring to bed after reading a book. He no longer has any cattle to check on or chickens to shoo into their pen. It's just Jack and his horse as that motivation to become a rancher died a long time ago. He's lucky if he finds the motivation to get out of bed in the morning, let alone run an entire ranch singlehandedly. A knock on his front door during the early hours of the morning makes Jack jump out of his skin. He sits upright in his bed and waits, assuming that he must have dreamt it, but there it is again, a little firmer than last time but still polite. Jack's quick to his feet and pulls on his pants, deciding that his union suit is clean enough to leave without throwing a shirt on ontop. He opens the door to see a late-middle-aged woman standing there, a few grey hairs sprouting from her scalp, and the faint outline of wrinkles slowly appearing on her face. She's smiling from ear to ear and Jack can feel the happiness she radiates; it makes him feel warm, maybe even a little bit loved, but this woman is a stranger who's probably just going to ask him for donations for the church. "Jack? Jack Marston?" she asks in a soft voice. "Yes?" he questions back, his hand still on the door. "It is you! You won't remember me, but I definitely remember you, back when you were just a little boy. I used to ride with your parents in that gang they were in all those years ago," the stranger explains, her expression still ecstatic. "I apologize if this is a little blunt, Miss, but who exactly are you?" Jack questions. "Mary-Beth Gaskill," she tells him. "I won't be offended if you don't remember my name nor my face, especially since I've aged since you last saw me, but so have you!"  

"I do apologize, but I'm afraid I don't. I was... very young when all that was happening, and Ma tried to keep me away from most of it," Jack tells her, opening the door a little more as he relaxes. "That's no bother! I... I used to write to your parents quite often. I've kept in contact with them over the years. John bumped into me at the station in Valentine a few years back, that's how I got your address. Abigal told me of his passing, nasty thing that happened to him... She told me everything, and when her letters stopped arriving I assumed the worst. So, I just had to pack my bags and come looking. I worried something may have happened to you too, but it's nice to see that you're still standing," Mary-Beth tells him. Although Jacks face remains quite unphased, he adores the way she speaks, bubbly and full of expression, a style he's quite envious of. If only he could be that happy. "I'm still standing," Jack says with a shrug. "I... uhm," he pauses, wanting to tell her everything at once but his mind becomes foggy. "Do you want to come in?" Jack offers instead, opening the door fully and standing beside it as he gestures inside. Mary-Beth accepts his offer with a nod, picking up her bag and scurrying inside. She can't help but begin to look around the cozy little home, its walls still smelling like freshly cut pine, despite it being built a good few years ago. Jack excuses himself whilst he goes and gets dressed, leaving her to her own devices. As Jack returns, she's browsing through the bookshelf, catching Jack's attention as she pulls out one of his favourite books. "Do you still read, Jack?" she asks him as she flicks over the blurb. "On the occasion," Jack replies. "And do you write? I remember you telling us over and over about how much you wanted to become a writer," Mary-Beth says with a smile, still treasuring those days. "I tried, but... things happened and... I-" Jack attempts to explain. "I understand," Mary-Beth says with a small nod as she places the book back. "I write myself, it can be hard but it's so fun once you get into the swing of things."  Mary-Beth looks at him as she places her bag on the dining table, pulling out a scrappy journal with a handful of pages sticking out of it. "How's about I teach you a few things? Let's see if we can get those ideas flowing, hm?" she offers. Jack still seems a little hesitant but something inside of him is telling him to go for it, so he nods in agreement, telling her that he'll get a hot drink for them whilst she gets herself comfortable. The pair spend the morning going over Mary-Beths notes; her mood continues to be ecstatic, her ears often perking up whenever he asks her a question or shows a little more interest. Jack eventually catches himself smiling as a warm feeling enters his chest. For the first time in years, he feels loved, like this long-lost stranger had been sent by his parents in heaven to show him that there is still love in this world, and it's waiting out there for him. Mary-Beth stays a while and once she leaves, Jack finds himself sitting at his desk as he begins to plot out any idea that comes to mind. It's as if she's unlocked his mind, letting out those story ideas that he buried a long time ago, though he never buried them intentionally. By the time Mary-Beth arrives home, there's already a letter waiting for her from Jack, thanking her for what she had done and explaining that she'd sparked a fire inside of him, and that it continues to burn and keep him warm. Seasons come and seasons go, and the pair stay in contact. Eventually, Jack finds himself knocking on Mary-Beth's door to personally hand her a copy of his first book, to which she cries and hugs him, holding him tight. It seems that Mary-Beth has stayed in contact with a few of the former gang members, as Jack is re-introduced to Tilly and her family, and gains contact with Trelawny and Swanson. Within time, Jack finds himself smiling naturally, not having to force it like he once did in his preteen days. He realises that he's always had a reason to smile, though his mind was so clouded that he lost his way. He does have a family, even if they are not by blood, and Jack is no longer alone in this world. Farm animals return to Beechers Hope and his world seems a little brighter, especially in the mornings. He'll stand on the border of his ranch, arms slung over the fence as he watches the sunrise, ready and willing to take on another day.

#feel like shit just want jack marston to be happy #rdrwriting #rdr oneshot #rdr drabble #drabble #oneshot #jack marston #mary-beth gaskill #john jack marston jr #rdr1 #rdr #rdr 1 #Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead redemption 1 #red dead 1 #tilly jackson #josiah trelawny #reverend swanson #rdr fanfic #beechers hope #john marston #abigail roberts #abigail marston

[dudeandduchess]

Light smut/fluff please!! Modern AU Nemi coming home from school and sees his girlfriend making dinner in his apartment without him asking. Maybe then it's when he realizes he wants to marry her? Thank you Jen ♡♡♡♡♡

Hope you like it, bby! And you’re very welcome! The narrative reminds of that Flying Pot fic I also wrote for Nemi tho. 😂🍉🍉🍉

***

Sanemi x F!S/O: Always Her (Fluff, Modern AU, Slight NSFW Scenario)

Warning: Mild Smut, Marking, Daddy Kink

Sanemi almost felt like he was drunk with how heavy and sluggish his entire body felt, but he still trudged up the hallway that led to his apartment— ignoring the faint pounding in his head, and the slight throbbing of his feet all the while.

There was nothing more that he wanted than to get inside his room, and collapse on his bed; nevermind the fact that his stomach had just grumbled in protest, since he hadn’t had the time to eat dinner.

If he had even remembered to do so, he would have stopped by the convenience store to grab a quick meal that he could heat up at home; but he hadn’t, so he was contemplating whether to cook some instant noodles, or to just sleep on an empty stomach.

At that thought, his stomach grumbled once more— telling him that he wouldn’t be able to sleep when all he could think about was having something to eat. So, he resigned himself to having to cook a little bit before heading off to bed.

However, when he got to his door, he instantly picked up the smell of curry wafting from inside his home— and when he unlocked it using the electric keypad, he was hit by the mouthwatering smell of freshly steamed rice as well as spicy curry coming from the kitchen.

Had he not seen his girlfriend’s familiar pair of sneakers by the front door, he would have been alarmed— but, since he had seen it, all he could do was sigh in relief and try not to run over to where she was so he could hold her in his arms.

(Y/n) was supposed to be reviewing really hard for her board exam, yet there she was… slaving away in his kitchen, while quietly humming the tune to an inaudible song. “Hi.”

One smile from her was enough to take away all the tiredness he felt; from the dull ache at the soles of his feet, up to the strain his eyes felt from having graded so many papers throughout the day— everything practically disappeared. And slowly, his lips pulled up at the corners in a lopsided smile.

“Hey yourself,” Sanemi answered softly, just as he closed the distance between him and (Y/n)— putting his hands on either side of her face and pulling her in for a kiss that he had been wanting for the past few days. He would have gone and visited her at her own apartment, but he didn’t want to cut into her studying time; so, he made do with talking to her through video chats, as well as pretending to catch her kisses through the call.

It was highly sappy of him to have done so, and he would have buried himself in a hole out of embarrassment— had anyone found out just how bad he had it for (Y/n)— but it was all he could do to make her smile; so he did it, despite the fact that it went against the whole tough guy persona that was trying to exude.

The moment that his lips touched hers, he had to pull away to savor the taste of her lips on his own— not even bothering to hide the small grin that took over his lips as his heart fluttered inside his chest. “Shouldn’t you be studying at your place?”

“I should, but I figured that you needed me tonight,” She answered with a light laugh, before leaning in and pecking his lips. “It seems my hunch was right.”

Her words brought pause to Sanemi’s entirety. He’d known for a long time that he wanted to marry her, and they had talked about their future plans multiple times before— it was just the fact that the perfect opportunity to ask her hadn’t presented itself yet; not until that moment.

It was either that, or something had clicked inside the young man at that very moment; where a future with (Y/n) was made clearer in his mind with her words.

Sanemi wanted her to be there for him, and stay by his side not just for that night… but for the rest of their lives. He wanted her to be the first thing he saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw at night— and he wanted to be the one that she relied on for anything and everything. He wanted to be so much more than her boyfriend… and ‘husband’ was having a much more appealing tone to him then, as opposed to all the other times he’d broached the subject with her.

After taking a deep breath, he gently rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks— caressing the soft skin beneath the pads of his thumbs, before opening his mouth to finally tell her his thoughts.

“Not just tonight, but always…” He exhaled at that, a shaky one that had him swallowing thickly just to settle the nerves that suddenly crept in inside him. “I’m always going to need you, because you’re the only one for me, (Y/n). It’s always been you… and it’s always going to be you.”

He could feel his tears pricking the backs of his eyes, but he held them back with another shaky exhale. Then, with a hopeful expression completely taking over his features, he asked, “Marry me?”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at the sudden question, and her heart began to race in her chest— as she took in her boyfriend’s adorably earnest look. She couldn’t even begin to describe how attractive the soft expression on his face was; but it was more than enough to have her feeling all weak in the knees.

Gingerly, her hands lifted themselves up from her sides, moving to clasp Sanemi’s own hands that still cupped her face tenderly. She then lowered his right hand down to her chest— placing his palm on top of her frantically beating heart, while she brought the other one to her lips; kissing the middle of his palm in a tender gesture that had Sanemi’s breath catching in his throat.

“Of course, Sanemi,” The young woman whispered, tightening her grip on both of his hands as she leaned forward and caught his lips in a slow and sensual kiss. “I’d love nothing more than to finally be your wife.”

No matter how hard he tried, Sanemi couldn’t hold back the grin that tipped his lips up at the corners. He also had the urge to let out a cry of victory at (Y/n)’s answer, but tamped the urge down in favor of claiming her lips once more. But, that time, he had no intention of stopping at mere kisses.

He pushed her back against the countertop behind her, placing both of his hands on her waist so that he could slip his fingers beneath her shirt; slowly inching it up until he had managed to slip if over her head. After that, he threw the shirt over his shoulder and dove right back into her— zeroing in on her neck and sucking hickies onto the soft skin.

“Fuck, kitten. You don’t even know how badly I want to fuck you right now,” The silver-haired man whispered against her neck, fanning the fresh love bites with his warm breath, before trailing his neck up her skin in a hot stripe— letting him savor the taste of her even more.

In response, (Y/n) parted her legs and welcomed him between them— locking her ankles together behind him, resting the heels of her feet against his ass so she could pull his hips flush against hers.

She felt the outline of his cock press against her clothed pussy, making her bite down on her bottom lip as she tangled her hands right into Sanemi’s hair. All the while, he trailed his lips lower down her chest, peppering kisses all over her breasts, then pulled her right bra cup aside so he could take one nipple into his mouth.

Meanwhile, his left hand made quick work of the other cup; fondling the other breast in his hand and pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger— alternating between rolling it around between the two digits, as well as flicking it rapidly with his index finger.

(Y/n) moaned aloud at that, involuntarily closing her eyes as pleasure coursed through her entire body at the move. “I- I think I have an-” She gasped when her boyfriend gently bit down on her nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue in a way that made her legs tense up too. “Idea.”

Another grin tipped Sanemi’s lips up at the corners, but he refrained from answering immediately in favor of sucking harder on (Y/n)’s nipple. Her grip on his hair tightened even more, which had him getting harder with every reflexive tug of hers. “You want me to fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes, daddy. Please,” The young woman gasped out in a breath, as she wantonly rubbed her crotch against her lover’s clothed erection; quietly mewling at the feel of his cock through her sweats and his slacks.

However, just as Sanemi trailed his hands down to pull her sweats off of her, (Y/n) quickly let go of her hold on his hair and began tapping on his shoulders. “Wait! Wait! Sanemi!”

He immediately stepped away from her at that, eyes wide with panic as he tried to think of what he could have done to warrant such a reaction from her. But she didn’t even bother to look at him— nor to fix her askew bra— as she jumped off the counter and raced over to where the curry was still on the stove; turning the burner off hastily.

“Oh no, no, no. The curry got burnt!” She cried in horror, after mixing the darker-than-normal dish in the pot.

Sanemi felt bad for being the root cause of her burning her curry, but he couldn’t tamp down the quiet snicker that left his lips— especially as he took in her disheveled appearance— boobs hanging out of her bra, hair mussed up, and love bites littering her neck and chest— as she fussed over the pot.

Truly, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to find a woman like her, even if he scoured the world twice.

And slowly, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her from behind— locking her in his embrace, as he pressed a kiss against the back of her head. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

#shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer requests #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #kny sanemi #shinaguzawa sanemi #kny x reader #kny scenario #kny imagines #demon slayer imagines #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #jen writes

[stenbrozier]

Curse Words and Butterflies (Platonic!Eddie Kaspbrak x Stanley Uris x Reader)

Plot: One night, drunk at Bill’s house, you and your two best friends, Stan and Eddie, decide to give each other stick and poke tattoos

Warnings: drunk!Stan, drunk/surprise artist!Eddie mention of blood, underage drinking + swearing

A/N: Eddie with a stick and poke tattoo >> everything else. Also I indirectly made this modern so they got phones and shittttt. Also also, this is based off the time I got a stick and poke on my middle finger which says “Fuck” :D

——————————————————————————

It all started with a bottle of tequila that Bev had snuck from her father. That turned into a few bottles of wine Richie’s parents had let him bring over after work if he was “responsible and stayed inside.” Then Bill’s parents left for the weekend, giving all eight of you free reign of the house. Two bottles of wine later, you were sitting in Stan’s lap, giggling softly as you watched Richie and Bill bicker over what movie you were all going to put on. You draped your legs over Eddie’s lap, his fingers lazily going to tap your knees. You were slightly passed tipsy, not quite drunk, but you could tell that Eddie was beyond salvageable. He didn’t drink very often, so when he did, he let loose and would go crazy. You were 95% sure he’d drank three fourths of one of the bottles of wine, rendering him useless for the rest of the night. Stan lightly tapped his fingers along your shoulders, catching your attention.

“I want a tattoo,” he said softly, showing your his pale and bland wrist. “Like...like I want a little bird or something.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, looking at the seriousness on his face. “Do you think Richie knows how to do tattoos?”

You shrugged, sitting up so that your legs feel off of Eddie’s lap. He looked at you in surprise, apparently you scared him, and you started running your fingers over Stan’s wrist. You took out your phone, googling how to you could do a stick and poke for Stan. You noticed that you’d need something called “India Ink”, and you cocked your head to the side.

“Hey, Mikey?” Mike looked over to you, seeing your slightly flushed cheeks from the wine and smiling. He could tell you were a little drunk, so he was going to take this very cautiously. “Can you run to the drugstore and see if you can find something called ‘India Ink’?” He furrowed his eyebrows in sort of a disapproving way. “Please?” You gave him puppy eyes and he sighed, grabbing his car keys and shaking his head.

“I’ll be back,” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention, ultimately failing. “I’ll grab a needle and some disinfectant wipes, too.” You smiled and turned to Stan, seeing a small smile on his face.

“You sure you want a bird on your wrist?” you asked softly, watching him nod his head. You looked over at Eddie, noticing him staring at you and Stan. “You okay, Ed?”

“I-I think I want a tattoo,” he whispered incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. “Like...the word ‘fuck’.” Your eyes widened. “I do. Put the word ‘fuck’ on my wrist.”

“O-okay,” you said softly, nodding. You looked down at your wrist, sighing as you examined it. “Maybe I’ll give myself a butterfly.”

“Aw!!” Stan screamed in your ear, causing everyone to look at him. “Guys, (Y/N) is giving me a bird!” Richie rolled his eyes with a weird look on his face, going back to watching the movie with Bill. Bev took another swig of the tequila she was nursing as Ben held her in his lap, his eyes shut and soft snores leaving his lips.

“Like a real life bird?” Bev made a face, confused as to what he meant. “Stan, are you getting a pet bird?!”

“No, no. Like a little tattoo bird,” he clarified, drunkly lifting his wrist up and letting it flop down dramatically. “It’ll be cute, just you wait.”

After that exchange, everyone focused their attention to the weird, indie movie that was playing on the TV. Mike came in silently, handing you the bag as well as a bag of your favorite chips.

“Just cause,” he said with a soft smile. “I noticed you hadn’t eaten anything tonight, and if you’re going to give Stan a tattoo, you need to eat something so you don’t get all woozy.” You smiled at the gesture, giving him a nod before dragging Stan and Eddie into the kitchen with you.

You dumped everything out of the plastic bag, taking out the sanitary wipes. You used one to wipe your hands, then used a clean one to wipe off Stan’s wrist. You searched through the draws of Bill’s kitchen, looking for a lighter to sterilize the needle with. You found a big one, unpackaging the sewing needle as you held it over the lighter’s flame. You walked back over the Stan, noticing that he was rather anxious.

“Eddie, hold his hand,” you said absentmindedly opening the ink bottle and dipping the needle in there. “I’m gonna do those little ‘m’ shaped birds cause that’s all I can do, okay?” He nodded, burying his head into Eddie’s neck as you poked through his skin. He hissed, leaning further into Eddie to which Eddie almost gagged at the stench of tequila that had been wafting off of Stan for the past hour.

After a few more pokes, you noticed blood starting to prickle up on the surface of his arm, and you quickly grabbed a paper towel, dabbing it away gently so that you could continue drawing it. When you finished the one ‘m’ bird, you pressed the paper towel against it again. Thirty seconds later, you removed it to see the ink had gotten a bit faint, but the design had still stayed.

“Stan,” you said, tapping his shoulder. He lifted his head up and looked down at the tattoo, smiling softly. “Do you want a couple more?”

He shook his head, admiring it. “It’ll fade anyway. Wow, thank you, (Y/N/N).” He brought you into a hug, kissing the side of your head. “He’s so cute.” He gave the tattoo a teeny little kiss, rushing out to show Richie and the others. “Richie! Richieee!”

You smiled up at Eddie, watching him move into the seat Stan was just in. You grabbed another wipe, cleaning yourself then getting one for his arm, and then you grabbed a second needle. You repeated what you did before, except you tattooed the word ‘Fuck’ on his wrist instead. You tried to keep it kinda small, just in case he regretted it in the morning. He was surprisingly a lot calmer than Stan was, possibly because he couldn’t feel the needle, and his body was definitely a little numb. You finished, dabbing it off with a clean paper towel. He smiled down at it, looking back up at you with droopy eyes and red cheeks.

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, nodding his head. “Do, uh, can I do yours?” He hiccuped after he finished is sentence, giving you and even bigger smile. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Your mind was slightly hazy so you nodded. “Let me prep. You’re fucking wasted.” You giggled at your words, watching his face contort into sadness at your words. “I just don’t want you hurting yourself.” You handed him a wipe before you started to prep all of the supplies for the third time that night.

“What’d you say you wanted?” he asked, throwing his wipe away. “A butterfly or caterpillar?”

“Butterfly,” you answered back quickly, holding your wrist out as he carefully picked up the needle and started to puncture your skin. You hissed in pain. “Fuck, Eddie. Calm down.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled as he slowed his movements. “I’m just excited.” You nodded, your eyes clasping shut as he got closer and closer to the veins. After what felt like hours, he pulled away with a soft smile. “All...all done.”

You looked down at your wrist and saw and beautiful outline of a monarch butterfly, wings spread out. “Eds!! It’s so pretty.” He blushed, setting the sewing needle down and cleaning up the wipes. He tossed all three needles in the trash while you rushed out to show the rest of the guys your tattoo.

“Woah, did you do that yourself (Y/N/N)?” Richie incredulously asked. You shook your head, smiling back at the kitchen to see Eddie coming out after his cleanup of the counter.

“Eddie did it,” you shrieked happily, running up to him and tackling him. “Isn’t he an amazing artist?!”

“(Y/N/N), Stan, go wash them off,” he said sternly, a blush on his cheeks as he pointed to the kitchen. Stan zoomed into the kitchen, the water being heard immediately. You walked in after him, nudging him to the side so you could share the sink.

“Woah! That looks so cool,” Stan mumbled in awe. “I should’ve had Eddie do mine.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him as you dabbed off your tattoo, seeing it faded a bit, but it still looked just as pretty as it did when it was first done. You shut off the water, walking out of the kitchen behind Stanley.

“They all want me to give them stick and pokes,” Eddie whispered in your ear when you walked back in. You shrugged your shoulders and looked up at him.

“Maybe you should,” you answered. “You are an artist after all.”

#i love yall and your support #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak headcanons #eddie kaspbrak smut #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris headcanons #stanley uris smut #richie tozier x reader #bill denbrough x reader #mike hanlon x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines

[visual-explorxtion]

The One That Got Away [Leon S Kennedy x Reader] - One Shot (NSFW)

Synopsis: You caught your boyfriend cheating and you're looking for an emotional getaway in a bar. Until you met Leon and you both instantly hit it off. But not everything is what you hoped it would be.

A/N: This one took way too long. I've started writing this prior to everything I've posted and it was on and off in between. Imagine this as older Leon (RE Damnation and up). I had a basic outline of the plot but kinda got derailed further I wrote and now it's a smutty, angsty and depressing fic (Three for the price of one). I thought I wrote too much and also not enough but it turned into a 5 page fic. And I also didn't realise I was writing in first person until halfway through. So, bone apple tea.

Word count: 3,842

The low murmurs and whispers of conversation surround the dimly lit bar, just two blocks away from my own apartment. I thought I could catch a break from my reality and sit silently with a drink in my hand. Hoping that I would get drunk enough to let my thoughts shut down, even just for a little while. But my mind circles back to him. My so-called boyfriend. Even though we are dating, our relationship just seems so...platonic.

I shake my head and took another sip of my drink. The ice cubes are slowly diluting the burning sensation of whiskey down my throat. Soon, this wouldn't be enough to forget all my problems. Irritated by my drink, I set it back down on the bar table, hoping that the aftertaste of alcohol would take my conscious away. I place the glass gently back down on the coaster and nudging it back and forth until it is exactly in-line with the circumference.

I leaned forward, pressing my forearms against the chilly, oak bar table. The sharp sensation ran up my arm, sending goosebumps along with it, awaking my drunken state. That was the last thing that I want. Reality setting back in.

The place was illuminated by the strip lights underneath the bar table and several backlights coming from the shelves of liquid. My bleary eyes tried to focus as I lift up my hand to signal one of the bartenders. But, to no avail, they do not seem to notice my presence. "Goddamnit..." I muttered under my breath. At this point, I could just slip out of this place and they won't even know it. I thought about it for a second but decided that it was a bad idea.

"Bad night, huh?" A low, raspy voice called out. I looked towards my left, where the voice came from. A man sat two seats away from me. His fringe covered most of his face so I couldn't tell what he looks like, but his chin was in view, chiselled and full of stubbles that could be seen even in a place with poor luminosity. "You wouldn't even know it," I answer, surprised that someone notices my existence. I've seen this man before. He's always here when I come to this bar, sitting in the exact same seating. I assume he's one of the staffs here, but he could just be a regular. Either way, it isn't any of my concern.

He chuckled, "I've had a handful of those before. I understand how you feel." His head angled slightly towards my direction. His face is now just peeking out from behind his golden hair. His eyes are piercing blue, like a vast ocean full of mysteries. He's handsome, beautiful even, but full of pain and hurt beneath it all. How could a man be so beautiful, and yet, so fragile?

I scoffed at his response, taking another sip of my now watered-down beverage, eyes returning to his gaze. "I'm sure you do," I spoke, resting my chin on my palm, giving him a smug grin. Maybe this is what I need, talking to a stranger, surely this will take my mind off a lot of things. He shook his head and smiled. "Hey, I'm Leon. You come here often?"

My brows furrowed and a little smirk came out of my lips. "If you're looking for someone to warm up your bed, then I can assure you, you've got the wrong girl," I paused, "I'm already seeing someone." Those words made my stomach wrench. I know full well that I'm the one that's seeing them, but they don't see me. No, not in the same way. Not anymore.

A breath escaped through his nose as he replied, "Well, I guess that makes the two of us...kinda." He takes a final sip of his bourbon and signals. "Another round...and make that a double." The bartender nodded and pulls out two glasses from under the bar table, now half-filled with alcohol, the bartender place one glass in from of me and slid the other one in from of Leon. I raise the glass up with my thumb and index finger by the rim, inspecting its content. The backlight is shown through the transparent liquid and dispersed in all direction, it's pretty and hypnotic. Though, the effect of the drink itself isn't as pretty as you'd think.

"Glass half full or empty?" My question sounded more like a statement. Leon gave a little laugh to my expression. My cheeks slowly burned up into a pink hue as I relived those words inside my mind. How stupidly naive I must have sounded.

Leon took the hint of my embarrassment and also raised his glass. "I'm neither an optimist nor a pessimist. All I know is that this is a good bourbon. And sometimes, that's all that matters." He reached out with the drink in his hand. I stared at it for a good while, "I think we could both agree on that." I smiled to myself as I return the gesture. Our glasses emitted a small clink to our small celebration. Bottom of the glass now upturned and down goes the alcohol, the scorching feeling made my face scrunch up. The bourbon slowly making its way into my bloodstream as the room that surrounds me spin like a carousel.

Hours go by, the muttering of conversation comes and goes, I have no recollection of our exchange, yet some faint pieces of memories spark up in my head. Knowing that you were a stranger, I spilt all my secrets, my fears and weaknesses, but you just listened and nodded along. An emotion blooms inside me, a warmth, telling me that we are the same type of people, the way we understood each other. We are lonely and just wanna belong somewhere.

Every day, I look forward to the moment when the sun hangs low and the moon comes up to dance, almost every night, I wander back into the bar with a light flutter in my heart. Knowing full well that Leon would be there, in the exact same seating, a glass of bourbon to accompany him. I found my life with meaning once again, understanding that I am not alone. Our conversations found their way of chatting about my life, to his. The story of his life and the things he had done shaped the person he is now. Though I know he speaks truthfully, I can't help but notice the gaps in his biography that he decided not to fill in. Whether to think after everything he revealed would make me scared of him, or I would look at him in a pitiful way, but that did not matter. The Leon I met, he's nothing like how he described himself. In my eyes, he's a soft and gentle soul, who got a few humorous tricks up his sleeve.

Sometimes, I think I'm somewhat emotionally detached, even if the sky topples, my mental state will remain calm as the world crumbles around me. I wouldn't scream, nor would I cry, I'll just quietly accept this as my fate.

And fate's plan came crashing down on me in one swift motion. Not even a second too early or too late. My most traumatic and emotional experience, all happened in a small time frame of one sunny morning. When you live through a memorable moment in life, good or bad, they become forever etched into our brain. Just like a movie. But, that same scene plays over and over again, until you can't handle it anymore. The sight of your ex-boyfriend in bed with a woman that's not you. Her hair and eyes resemble your appearance, eyes gleaming in a dark hue with their soul still intact. But, you're not her. And she's not you. He didn't choose you.

The lookalike gripping her hands around his toned arm, trembling in fear of what might happen next. What I would do next. My vision holds not her, but the so-called of a man, whom I just realise is nothing but a coward. The air around the room is thick and heavy, no words were spoken, not even an explanation or an apology. Under the hint of light, silence can be heard, from his blank expression, I knew the answer. I left not because of a broken heart, but because I don't belong there anymore. And I'd be lying to myself if I say I wasn't sad. Deep down, you knew this was bound to happen. You knew this from the very beginning, the spark wasn't there. You just weren't ready to admit the facts because you are afraid. Afraid of being alone again.

Waves of emotions hit one after another. Exchanging between grief and relief, this emotional loop cycles on. The crystal glass in my hand mirrors my mental suffering. Once empty, then full again and empty once more. Now drowning in a pool of liquor, until I can no longer distinguish between night and day, I hope this cycle never ends.

"Isn't it a little too early to hit the bottle?" A familiar voice came into my earshot, "Well, if it isn't my new-found buddy, Leon! Come, drinks are on me!" The laughter in my throat refusing to cease, everything is now on autopilot. The room sways back and forth to the beat of the music, every bassline played made my head blurrier each time, the lights in the bar almost seem like someone crank the exposure to the highest level. He sighed and took a seat, seeing there's no other option. "Jesus...how many have you had?" His concert did not reach me as I just skimmed over his question. "Hmm...4? 5? I lost count...but who cares?! I'm here to have a good time!" I exclaimed, both fists pumped up in the air and chuckling idiotically to myself.

Leon's brows scrunch, a finger rubbing at his temple, the crease on his forehead gets deeper by the minute. His drink arrived but his focus was elsewhere, he would take one sip, then looks back at me, contemplating. "H-hey, aren't you supposed to...protect the city or s-something, Mr detective-man-or-whatever?" I hiccuped, with half my speech slurred. "I'm not a cop. I don't...can't protect people." He took another sip. "Isn't that...hic...what you've told me?" I pressed on, this isn't what I've intended to do. He exhaled, "It's complicated." A drunken smirk left my nose, the alcohol had intoxicated my system and left my mouth defenceless. "Is it really that complicated? Or do you just not want to tell me the truth?" Jesus! Shut up, me! I can see the rage boiled behind his darken eyes, his fists gripped and nails digging deep into his flesh. "You. Need to stop drinking."

The clock strikes midnight, but neither one of us had any intentions to sober up or face whatever reality has prepared for us. We laughed, argued and make flirtatious jokes to one another. The air between us shifted, hot but still intoxicated. Even so, my mind still lingers on the images that shattered my heart into a million pieces. I don't want this anymore. "Hey...what if I kiss you right n-now? How would you react?" I giggled. "Sure. I'd be glad to," he said, facetiously. "Pfff, come on! I'm serious!" another hiccup. "You're drunk and trying to take the piss out of me." I locked eyes with him, setting my next words in a serious manner. "Am I? Why don't you come and find out?" I slid my hand from his forearm down to the back of his hand, drawing circles with my index finger, tempting and testing his borderline. A small grunt caught in between his lips, gaze running up my skin and idly to my mouth, his fixed stare lingered what feels like an eternity until we meet eye to eye.

What happens next came to me like a blur. I took his hand and led him away from the bar. The place was too packed for anyone to know if we were gone by the next second. We stumble away through the crowds of drunks living on cloud nine, but our hands kept a grip tight on one another. I pushed on; wanting to feel something, anything, even just for tonight. The burning desire inside has reached its limit, but so was Leon's. He twirled me around and constrained my backside up against the bathroom door. His body leaned in close to mine, our faces just an inch apart. The feverish breath touched my neck, turning me on even more so. I can feel his hesitation as his lips close within range, just hovering close to yours. "Would it really kill you if we kiss?" my words were hushed, giving him the final push. And those were the few words to make him let go of his rationality. Before I could acknowledge my next thought, his hand slip under the back of my neck with a firm grip and our mouths collided in the heat of the moment. His kiss was strong and passionate, everything that I imagined it would be, my hips feeling every inch of his, teeth gently grazing my bottom lip as I parted them to deepen his taste. Heat radiates off his chest as our tongues now intertwined with the taste of bourbon and sweetness, Leon showed no signs of backing down as his hand squeeze my hip tighter. But we had to break our physical contact when the chatter grew louder from inside the bathroom. Our hearts still racing, panting breathlessly and aching to be together again, though both of us would rather avoid being caught in an awkward situation.

My body mindlessly took us further down the deserted corridor to a backdoor that leads to an alleyway, the door itself could easily be missed if not observed carefully. I extended a hand to push open the door but was abruptly interrupted by Leon's demanding kiss. Eager to be whole again, he hoisted me off the ground effortlessly, binding my leg around his slender waist. The faint sound of music could be heard from the interior of the building, imitating the beat of our hearts. My back is up against the rugged wall once more. His nails dug into my thigh as I whimpered at the pain but Leon's kiss grew more hungry and impatient, urging for something more. The heat between my legs burning white-hot for this man with absolute longing. As if he could read my thoughts out loud, his hand travelled up to the waistband of my jeans, a finger hooked underneath and running it across my waistline and stopping just before where the buttons clasp. His tease sends chills along my lower abdomen, I'm struggling to keep up my composure.

Leon's icy blue gaze pierced through me, signifying his needs. "Do it." With the sign of my approval, he ripped the jeans clean off my sweat-covered legs without a hitch. My bare limbs glistening in the moonlight, reflecting off the moisture with the gentle breeze caressing them. The heat on my face grew, knowing that my lower parts are only concealed with a thin layer of fabric that's half opaque. Leon smugly grinned at the sight presented to him, licking off the residue from our kiss, he lets me down delicately as my feet touch the sturdy ground. He shifted and on both his knees, positioning himself in between my legs, feeling nervous being fully exposed to him. I stifled a gasp as Leon steady my balance with hands on either side of my hips, his kisses trail down the torso, leaving marks all over my stomach, down to my v-line. His soft fingertips skim the hem of pants then he dipped his head low, the black, lacy underwear caught between his teeth, removing them until I'm left bare and vulnerable.

I can feel his eyes exploring every inch of uncovered skin, like a wolf with his hunting instinct. His mouth found its way to your folds. The next thing you know, a foreign feeling spreads open your lower organ, heat escaping from your core and drip down to your inner thigh. You squirm and twitch with every movement of his tongue, chest rapidly rising and falling with each breath taken, you know you are close to the edge. Your hands clench his hair gently as he continuous drive over your sweet spot, humming, until you unravel your senses upon him. Knees giving out as everything tingles from head to toe, Leon catches you in his arms as you recover your strength.

Cleaning you off with the tip of his tongue, he reclaims his posture to tower over you and returns lips onto yours. The passionate kiss filled with desire, you can taste your own thirst mixed with his own saliva. Sultry and sweet. Chest to chest, every curvature and dips of his toned muscles embrace my own, our heartbeats synchronised. His scent of cologne mixed with sweat gives me a sense of comfort. I can feel the outline of his bulge through the thick fabric. One hand placed on the small of my back, the other desperately uncuffs his belt and down to his pants, revealing his length. My eyes widen in awe at the size of his...thing. It's pressed up against my abdomen, from shaft to the tip, Leon seems to be satisfied with my reaction as his egotistic smirk painted across his face. I swallow, mentally preparing myself before any attempt on riding him. Holding the base of his cock, now positioned near your entrance, you draw a hand near it and gently massage it. As if it's fragile, my hand gave it a few pumps then guide his tip inside. All that foreplay made it much easier for him to enter.

His tip without any difficulty. "Breathe" his deep, husky voice whispers in my ear, then inch by inch, until he fills up all my crevices inside. He took a pause, letting me adjust to his size for a minute, then slid back out again. Without a word of warning, he thrusts his cock back in all the way to the hilt as I let out a lusty yelp. The electric shock sends my pelvic muscles twitching and tensing around his cock, the repetitive motion causes me to ache for him even more. My hips sway and grind along to the beat of his movement, harder and faster, making him let out a soft cuss. The twinge at the back of my mind resurfaced again, flashbacks of this morning's event, haunting my thoughts again. Standing in the same doorway, looking at him and her on the same bed, same stiffness in the air. But, I'm looking at me through her eyes now, situated in this dark alley. The fear crept in. I can't love him. I know better than this.

"Hey. Just focus on me." Leon's hands cupped my cheeks, radiating the warmth I know, calling me back to the light. His tongue has taken up my mouth once more, diverting my focus from my own broken mind to the love he's providing. But you shouldn't. Hips picking up the pace, every bump and vein hitting my sensitive spot as I cry out, calling his name out in ecstasy. Leon's breathing is getting heavier with every beat he thrusts, bringing me and him closer to coming undone. Hot liquid spilling out, filling you up to the bream, overflowing like my emotions. The feeling he provided which shifted something inside, a beacon of light into my own soul. He pulled out, the inner content spilling out slightly as we redress ourselves again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. The pang of guilt hit him. Just like everyone else. My feet stumbled a few steps back, almost tripping myself up in shock. The tears behind my eyes threaten to fall out. I have to get out of here. I spin on my heels and made a run for it. This isn't how it is supposed to turn out. I know better. Knew. "Wait! At least let me take you home-" "No!" My feet kept on pushing me, yelling at me to keep going. Hot tears pour out inevitably, unlike tonight. It's all my fault. I naively believed that we were the same- wanting the same thing, am the same type of people. I was wrong. All I ever wanted was to stop being alone, but you chose this. You wanted to be alone. And I've made a mistake. "Wait, goddamnit." I stopped in my tracks, tears falling nonchalantly. I turned, leaving him with only a few words. "I'm sorry...but I fell in love with you tonight." But we both knew the answer.

---

#this fic turning out to be sad and depressing was accidental #i was hoping to put more chara emotion into it but it kinda slipped #lemme know if you want me to put warning tags #its a smut fic #can you believe #leon x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil damnation #resident evil 6 #resident evil vendetta #re leon #im gonna slap this on ao3 too #gonna sit in my room and zone out for 5 minutes #⭐️.doc

[lemonerix]

Wrong Letter

Prompt: Mistakes/Canon verse

Word count: 3081

“May I come in, sir?”

A faint “Enter.” came from behind the door, and Howard opened it to find his boss sitting on his desk, signing papers and organizing documents. It wasn’t unusual to see his boss hunched over his paperwork, with a cup of tea on his desk as the air filled with the melody from the old gramophone he owned. The man walked over to his boss, “You summoned me, what can I help you with, sir?” he asked, bowing his head down slightly.

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘Arthur’ whenever we’re alone? You’re making me feel much older than I really am.” The blonde man asked his subordinate.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t see it fit for someone like me to call you by your name so casually.”

“Now you’re just making it seem like I’m not human. Well, I’m not really, but you get the point.” Arthur waved his arm around as he spoke. He took a sip from his cup and leaned back on his chair, “Anyway, it seems like I’ll be stuck in this room until evening if I want to get all of this paperwork done by tomorrow. Can you send these letters for me, Howard?” Arthur asked as he handed the man several envelopes with seals on them. He knew what the seals meant, he nodded and took the letters into his hands. “Anything else, sir?” he asked.

“Tell the chef to cook dinner early, and also tell the rest of the household that they may leave early today.” Arthur quickly said to Howard before he left the room.

After heading to the kitchen and telling the staff to head home early, Howard picked up his things from his office and left the house. He made sure to deposit the letters in the letterbox before he headed home. Little did he know, a certain letter to a certain nation wasn’t meant to be sent that afternoon.

.

The pain in his back woke up Arthur from his slumber. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he rubbed the small of his back as he straightened his posture, “Bloody hell, I think I am growing old.” He said to himself as he stood up and stretched his body. He glanced at the clock on his desk and noted that the time was ten minutes after five. The sun was beginning to peek from the hills, birds have begun their songs and a few early risers were on the streets walking their pets or going for their morning jog. England turned off his gramophone, which he accidentally forgot to turn off the previous night, and retrieved the half-full tea cup from his desk. A look of discomfort passed through his face as he sipped the drink before he realized that it had gone cold. Muttering to himself, he went out of his office to re-heat his tea and make himself breakfast (hopefully, without incident).

By some kind of miracle, England made himself breakfast without having to call the fire department again. This was a small victory for him, he sat down on a chair and ate his meal, feeling rather proud of himself. It was Sunday, so he was in no rush because he knew that he had the whole day to himself. Arthur was then reminded of his responsibilities, the papers he had to sign, and of course, “the letter” he wrote to a certain country. A chill ran down his spine, he didn’t recall seeing the envelope containing “that letter” on his desk that morning. He dropped his utensils on the table and swore loudly before dashing to his office.

He swung open the door and immediately searched the top of his desk, then under it, then his drawers. He sat on his chair in exhaustion and panic, then he heard something crinkle beneath him. In his frantic search, he did not notice the small white envelope on his chair. He grabbed it and felt his heart slow down, the panic he felt went away as he sighed in relief.

Thank God.

Yet, there was an itching feeling that he couldn’t shake off. Something compelled him to open the envelope and read the letter in it. He did so and felt his blood run south, “Oh no.” He re-read the contents of the letter to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks with him. He wanted to believe that the letter in his hands was a copy. Oh, how much he wanted to believe that. Arthur buried his face in his hands, muffling his scream of frustration and embarrassment.

The letters he asked Howard to send for him contained the outlines of the subjects to be discussed in the next G8 meeting being held in his country. Seven letters meant for seven countries, and out of the seven, one of those letters wasn’t meant to be sent. Arthur knew he had no one else to blame but himself. He should’ve paid more attention to what he was doing, and if he did, he might have actually sent the right letter. He knew he dug up his own grave, but he wasn’t sure if he could actually face the heartbreak waiting for him. He knew that he could do nothing about it, letters with ‘seals’ are immediately sent to the nation they were addressed to. Feeling defeated, Arthur slumped down on his chair and prayed that America doesn’t check his mail that often.

.

Poor Brit, he does not know that Alfred checks his mail every day because of the many items he orders online.

“Package for…Mr. Alfred Jones?”

Alfred ran towards the door; he opened it and greeted the delivery man on his doorstep. After signing for the package, he picked up the huge box on his porch and said goodbye to the delivery man. After he turned the doorknob, something fluttered to the ground from the top of the package.

“Huh, what’s this?” he muttered to himself as he picked up the envelope with his free arm. It had a ‘seal’ on it, so he suspected that it came from one of the nations. Kicking the door close, he set down the box in his arms and looked for a box cutter.

Alfred completely forgot about his package, he only wondered what the letter contained as he went into the kitchen. He found a box cutter in one of the drawers, then he sat down on his kitchen table. With a blade in his hand, he broke the seal of the envelope. He took out the letter and read it. He felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw who it was from, then his jaw slacked when he read what was written on the paper. “Arthur…” his lips quivered as the name passed through his lips.

Oh, God. If this is some kind of trick, then that’s just cruel.

His face still flush, he sat on table and stared at the paper. He wasn’t sure if what he was reading was true, or if it was just an elaborate prank by England. But he knew that the Englishman wasn’t the type to pull pranks, and he could confirm that the handwriting was his. He read the letter again and felt his face warm up again, his lips twitching into a smile, “This can’t be real.” He said to himself. Alfred didn’t want to believe that Arthur “liked, liked him”, because that would be too good to be true. But there could be a chance that the Brit actually had feelings for him. He drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes fell to the words that made his heart beat erratically.

“…I cannot keep on hiding my feelings for you anymore, it’s become so overwhelming. I think I might fancy you, Alfred…”

The letter was filled with extravagant words and metaphors that would’ve made Shakespeare jealous, but those phrases were the only ones that mattered to the American. He couldn’t care less if he could barely understand half the words, all he knew was that Arthur fell for him. And that was enough for him to gather his courage and respond to the island nation’s confession.

With a happy sigh, he looked for a pen and a piece of paper.

.

England waited anxiously for the other nations to arrive; he was especially nervous about America. He paced back and forth the room, occasionally adjusting his tie, and whispering to himself.

Did he receive the letter? Did he read it? God, he probably thinks I’m some sappy old fart right now.

He flinched when the door opened, “Good Morning, England.” Japan greeted as he closed the door behind him. “Good Morning, Japan. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the nation’s designated seat. The Japanese man noticed that England seemed troubled, “Is there something bothering you, Mr. England?” he asked. The other man stopped pacing back and forth, “No! No, there’s nothing wrong. Why do you ask?” England smiled nervously.

“Because…never mind.” Japan decided that he shouldn’t press the other nation. He noted how England exhaled in relief and sit down on his chair. The room was silent for a whole minute until England slammed his hands on the table, slightly scaring Japan. “Mr. England, is there something wrong?” Japan asked, now worried for the other nation. England’s face was flushed red, he didn’t know if he should ask Japan advice. “Mr. England?” The Japanese man slowly rose from his chair, he planned to go closer to the island nation and ask if he was alright but before he could, England blurted out, “Japan, can I ask you a question?”

“Uhm, ye…yes?”

“Wh…what if, hypothetically, I sent a letter with very sensitive information to someone accidentally, and they read it? What do you think their reaction would be?”

Japan blinked as he registered the question, “Well…” he rubbed his chin, “It depends on the type of letter you sent them, and the type of person they are. If you sent them a confession to a crime, they might report you to the authorities or if you sent them a confession of love, they might reciprocate your feelings, or use it as blackmail.” The man stated bluntly. England’s eye twitched, “Ah, I see.” He slumped down his chair and the room suddenly went cold. “E…England-san? Is e…everything alright?” Japan asked, slightly scared at how the room suddenly turned gloomy. “Yes…everything is fine…”

“Bu…but, why does this seem like I did something wrong?” The Japanese man whispered to himself.

“YO, THE HERO’S HERE!” The door burst open as America entered the room. Japan let out an involuntary yelp, “A-America!” England shot up from his seat, his heart racing. America blinked and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Uh, what’s up dudes?” he greeted in a small voice. His eyes were darting everywhere but he refused to look at England. The Englishman cleared his throat, “America, please head to your designated seat while we wait for the others to arrive.” The nation complied and sat in his seat. Japan watched the strange interaction of the two countries. Usually they would be yelling at each other’s faces, but they weren’t. Did something happen between them?

He looked at England who was wringing his fingers on the table, his face was redder than normal and he kept on stealing glances at the American. Then he turned to America, who was drumming his fingers on the table nervously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his eyes kept on glancing at the English nation’s general direction. Gears were turning in Japan’s mind, he knew that this kind of thing would just happen in a manga, but he wondered if something happened between America and England. Did one of them confess their feelings to the other? Did they get rejected or were the feelings mutual? Japan himself was getting flustered with the ideas going on through his head. He decided that he should play matchmaker as a plan formed in his mind.

Japan shot up from his seat, “Excuse me Mr. England, I must use the restroom! I will return!” He loudly announced and ran out of the room before he could receive any reaction. He knew that it was rude to just leave the two nations alone, but it was the only way he could play matchmaker.

.

The door slammed close as Japan rushed outside, England and America were alone. There was a very awkward silence between them that seemed to last for eternity. The two nations pretended that the other did not exist, making their situation more awkward than it is. Finally, England broke the ice, “It’s not very often that you come early.” America glanced at the other man, who was facing away from him, “Ye…yeah. My flight was early, and I thought that being punctual was a little achievement of mine.” The American chuckled lightly at the end of his sentence. Green eyes gazed at Alfred momentarily before looking back at the grey wall, “That must be delightful.” England replied. They were enveloped in silence once again. America broke the silence this time, “How about you dude? Is being host a bit stressful or something?”

“I guess? I mean, I have been hosting more times than I can count so I don’t really worry much, but there would always be that looming feeling that everything might go wrong.” The Englishman smiled slightly, but it faded away quickly. They attempted to make small talk, but each time they do, it would always end up with awkward silence. The two both knew that they had to address the elephant in the room, wishing that the other would do it for them. England took a deep breath, he knew America was too prideful to admit that he received “the letter”, so he had to make the first move.

“So, Alfred…” he began, “Have you…received any letters recently?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments before America answered, “Nah. I haven’t received any letters, Artie. Why the sudden question, dude?” He tried to keep his voice casual, so that it wasn’t obvious that he was lying. England noticed the tone in America’s voice, “It’s nothing,” He pursed his lips, “Are you sure?” he asked for confirmation. The American nodded and looked away, shoving his hand into his pocket where he kept England’s letter. “I see.” England slightly relaxed in his seat. He managed to save himself from embarrassment, he’s not convinced that America was telling the truth, though. Maybe the American just pitied him, or was planning to blackmail him using his letter. He felt disappointed as well. America didn’t like him like that, he probably doesn’t like him at all.

The door opened to reveal Japan and the rest of the countries involved in the meeting. Japan was hopeful that the two nations had made up, but it seems like he had made matters worse. Both America and England were silent, like they did not even attempt to talk to each other. The Japanese man mentally sighed, maybe he shouldn’t have played matchmaker this time.

.

The meeting ended with success, which was a rare event. Meetings would usually end up with everyone shouting their heads off, and at least one person would be hurled out of the room. The meeting that day ended with no such thing occurring. That was probably because America was unusually quiet throughout the meeting, and England refused to talk unless it was his turn to present. The other nations were unnerved by the unusual behavior of the two nations, but they did not voice it out. Japan on the other hand, thought that he failed as matchmaker and was thinking of other ways to get the two men together.

“It was a wonderful meeting, Mr. England. I look forward to the next one.” Japan bowed his head. England smiled, “Thank you. It was my pleasure being your host.” He told the other man. The other nations said their farewells as they exited the room, one nation lingered a bit longer and dropped something on the floor for the Brit to find, he then rushed out of the room hoping that England didn’t notice him.

England was left alone in the room; it was the host’s job to clean up after all. He stacked the pieces of papers scattered around the table, discarding scraps of paper and placing the chairs back into their positions. As he was finishing, he spotted a piece of paper by the doorway. He groaned and picked it up, he realized that it was an envelope. To his bewilderment, it was the envelope that he had gone to hell and back to look for.

America, that damn bastard was lying to me, I knew it!

He was furious that the American had the letter with him the whole time, not only that, it appeared that he had opened it, which made England’s blood turn cold. “That bastard opened it!” he hissed at no one in particular. The Brit was now fuming with rage and embarrassment, he saw that his letter was still inside the envelope, but there was another piece of paper with it. It was a yellow post-it note stuck on the back of his letter. He took it out and read the note written in black bold letters:

Pick you up at 8? Just call my #, and I’ll make reservations.

A small doodle of America was winking at him at the bottom of the paper. England felt his heart stop, then restart again.

This cannot be real. This is a trap. This has to be a trap.

His mind screamed at him, one part of him was saying that he shouldn’t respond because it was most likely a practical joke, while the other part said that he should call him and celebrate because his feelings were returned. The man was torn with what he should do, should he risk it all and call America? He could feel himself pulling out his phone from his pocket, he gawked at the yellow paper then at his phone.

Should I do it?

He opened his contacts. America’s name was on top of the list.

Should I do it?

He tapped the contact, England’s fingers hovered over the call button.

Should I…?

Tap.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Hey, Iggy…”

#usuk #usukweek #aph america #aph england #Hello fellow astronomers

[alright--okay]

you ever been to a basement show? pt. 1

tsukishima kei x reader

summary: Tsukishima sees you everywhere, and for a big school thats weird. And it’s not like he’s gonna do anything, that’d be even weirder, but one day in your shared lecture he sees you wearing a shirt with some small band’s name. A band he know. And well, now he has to know who you are.

word count: ~1.5 k

a/n: this is college au where Tsukki is basically into really indie/alt music and so are you so you guys start as like concert buddies/friends and grow as more. I started this a while ago and have been posting to ao3 but I’m trying to find motivation to write more so imma start posting to tumblr lol hope anyone reading enjoys <3

read on ao3!

pt. 1 Polite Company - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Tsukishima saw you everywhere, it didn’t make any sense. If the University of Tokyo was so big, why was he seeing the same girl all around campus?

Particularly in his one stupid archeology elective. The class was a joke compared to everything else he was taking but it gave him a break from his other more intense courses and he wasn’t about to refuse the opportunity to slack off. You were not only in the large lecture portion of the class but also in his recitation, meaning he saw you three times a week, not including the glances he caught of you just from walking around.

And he wasn’t stalking you (he swears), it’s just that you were … everywhere. Sitting in the last row of the lecture hall (just a few seats to the right of him), waiting for the TA outside the classroom for recitation (usually on your phone), or doing work in the student center as he passed through (always with your headphones on, always).

He had no clue who you were. You most probably weren’t an archeology major like himself, he would have seen you in the intro classes or any of the higher-level courses. Yeah, Tokyo was big but he could at least recognize some other people in the major, and he had never seen you in the three years he had been attending the University of Tokyo. Or at least didn’t notice you before, but that also seemed unlikely.

Today was no different. The lecture portion of the course was a little too early for anyone’s liking, so Tsukishima went to take his usual seat in the back row, ready to half pay attention, half play on his phone. You were already there, headphones atop your head as you continued to look at your phone, the faint sound of music escaped the padding by your ears but it was too muffled to make out an actual beat.

Tsukishima said a quick “excuse me” as he moved to step over your legs and bag on the ground. You remained quiet, giving a polite smile as you tucked your legs in, attempting to give him more room to pass. That’s when he caught sight of your sweatshirt. Normally he paid no mind to what you, let alone anyone, was wearing but the bubbled blue outline of the word “Forests” gave him pause. That was a band. That was a small band. How the fuck were you aware of their presence.

Tsukishima quickly made his way past you as he realized he really shouldn’t be staring at your chest (even if it was just to read your sweatshirt, he swears). He tried to nonchalantly maneuver his way into one of the old lecture hall seats a few down from yours before quickly pulling out his phone.

No way is it the same Forests, he thought as he brought up the band’s website and quickly scrolling through there merch.

Starring back at him was the same fucking sweatshirt. That meant you knew this band, this tiny band. He was so used to being alone in his music taste. Akiteru only listened to what was on the radio and Yamaguchi entertained Tsukishima when he went on rants about music and bands, but he didn’t really listen to any of it. Tsukishima had come to accept that his music-listening experience was mostly gonna be reserved for laying in his bed alone, staring at the ceiling, and absorbing the lyrics. This was fine, he could still enjoy the music just fine. But … you knew some of his music.

~~~

Tsukishima tried to ignore the thoughts of you. He didn’t know you, you were a random person who just so happened to maybe, possibly listen to the same type of music as him. Who cares?

It was a little later in the week and Tsukishima was making his way to the recitation for this stupid elective. The TA, as usual, was late so Tsukishima made his way over to the wall to wait, his own pair of headphones supplying a flow of music.

When you made an appearance from around the corner, Tsukishima couldn’t help the extra attention he paid to your clothing. And god fucking damn it. That was a Mom Jeans shirt. There was someone who listened to the same music as him. Or at least similar. But that was enough for Tsukishima to decide he wanted to talk to you.

To yama:

i have a situation

From yama:

oh ?? care to elaborate ?

Tsukishima paused. This was weird, wasn’t it? He had never interacted with you besides the time he had to move past you to get to his seat. And the lecture was huge. Nobody talked to each other unless you were already friends or were in desperate need of notes. Tsukishima was in neither of those situations.

To yama:

okay so theres this girl and before you say anything no im not trying to ask her out but she was wearing a shirt for a band i listen to

From yama:

that you listen to? not to say youre some hipster indie boy…. but you tend to listen to v obscure music

To yama:

yea i know that thats why im kinda freaking out like do i say something?? and if i do say something what would i even say

From yama:

go for it !! if shes anything like you she probably doesnt get to talk about music much either so just bring up her shirt or something itll be fine tsukki

To yama:

yea ill think about it

Tsukishima put his phone away as someone held the door open for him. Apparently the TA arrived sometime while he was texting Yamaguchi so he quickly made his way into the classroom, taking a seat a few rows behind you.

He would talk to you.

Just not today.

~~~

After the recitation the day before, you had pushed your headphones back onto your ears as soon as the TA was finished and made your way out of the room, his eyes following as you did so. Tsukishima had gone back to his apartment only to be further interrogated by Yamaguchi. What band? There were multiple bands? Did he know you? What class was this again? Are you cute? That’s where Tsukishima cut him off, moving into his room to attempt some work.

It was now Thursday morning, meaning it was time for the second half of the lecture. He was gonna do it. Tsukishima was going to talk to you.

He walked into the lecture hall, you again were already sitting in your seat at the back. Tsukishima (calmly, obviously he was calm) walked over to your seat and sat beside you.

~~~~~~

Who the fuck was this guy?

Yeah, you had seen him around, but he never talked to you, or anyone else in the class for that matter. And yet here he was, sitting next to you and gesturing for you to take off your headphones.

“Can I help you?” you said, complying by slipping the headphones around your neck.

He took a small, almost hesitant pause, “I noticed your shirt the other day, you listen to Forests?”

Your eyes grew slightly wider, “You know who they are?”

“Um, yeah and I’m not used to people listening to the same music as me so I thought I’d … I don’t know … say hi? Introduce myself?”

“Well, you haven’t done a very good job on that plan so far,” you paused to give him a small smile, “just saying.”

Tsukishima gave you a smirk of his own, “Hi,” he emphasized, making you smile wider, “I’m Tsukishima Kei. And you are?”

“l/n y/n,” you replied, smile still in place. “So you listen to Forests. Anyone else I might know?”

Tsukishima paused for a moment, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. Bands you listened to every day were not necessarily what everyone else listened to (which let’s be real, understandable), so replying to a question like this meant either replying with more popular bands people had likely heard of or going full-on obscure and have the person stare at you in confusion. But after a moment, Tsukishima responded with his own small list.

“I know a couple of them actually,” you saw his mouth give a small uptick, probably not used to that response, “what-” The two of you were interrupted by the professor being the lecture, but you quickly turned back to the boy at your side, now in a quieter voice you asked, “what were the names of the other bands? I’ll look them up.”

Tsukishima slowly listed them off again as you typed them into your phone, excited to see what this random guy in your lecture listened to.

Time passed slowly as you and Tsukishima put your attention back to the material at hand, but as the class came to the end and the two of you were packing up your things, your mind drifted to the coming weekend.

Yeah, you just met the guy, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. He seemed kinda nice after all, and he’d probably be into it.

“Hey Tsukishima,” you called to get his attention, “you ever been to a basement show?”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader

[ratmonky]

Wicked

Sorry, this is extremely self-indulgent. I just have a thing for villains with eyepatches. 

Anyway, I just realized that both of my favorite villains from comedy/action animes have the same VA. So I’ll take this opportunity to make an awful joke. You thought it was Dio but it was I, Shinsuke!

AO3 Link

Warnings: dub-con, forced cheating (idk)

Word Count: 3.1K

The heavy metal door opened with a loud creak, turning all of the tall guard’s attention to the two expected guests.

“Welcome back, sir,” the guard’s attention almost faltered when he saw the feminine figure behind Takechi.

“Good evening.” Takechi’s large hand was wrapped around your arm, holding you tightly in place as he stared at the guard with his wide eyes. “Why don’t you greet the guard as well?”

You struggled with Takechi’s hold on your arm. “Let me go,” you hissed. “If my friends find out about this, they’ll kill you all!”

“That’s not a formal greeting.” Takeichi patted on your head, forcing you to bow your head, “She might be a little feisty but I think that’s because she’s drunk. She’s the leader’s VIP guest!” he spoke to the guard.

“We can’t treat the leader’s guests poorly. now, can we?” Takeichi added with an eerie smile on his lips. He decidedly ruffled your hair to annoy you.

“No, sir!” The guard opened the door to the ship.

Takeichi sighed. “I have work to do, I’ll leave her in your care. Make sure to take her to the leader.”  

“What if she causes any trouble?” As suspected the guard was skeptical of the decision the leader had made.

God, had Takechi done all of this for nothing? He was out in the streets ever since the morning to take you here. Now he had to listen to some unimportant guard’s worries. He just wanted to get this over with.

“She’s a good girl,” Takechi promised as he combed your hair with his long fingers. “You just have to take her to the leader’s room.”

You turned your head to glare at Takechi. You didn’t know where you were or who they were but if there was one thing for sure, it was that Gintoki and Katsura would make these people regret kidnapping you. “You’ll pay for this, Gintoki will kill you if-”

“I’m a feminist yet I have my limits, miss. If I’d have to, I’d kill you without hesitation. It wouldn’t matter if you’re a VIP guest or not. Don’t make me do that,” Takechi squinted his eyes, threatening you in his own way for you to behave. “Now,” his hand on your head slides onto your shoulder to push you forward. “Let’s not make the leader wait any longer.”

You stumbled forward but the guard caught you before you could fall face forward onto the metal floor.

Taking advantage of this moment of vulnerability, you pulled the guard’s sword and pointed it at both men. You took a couple of steps back to put distance between you and them. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. I don’t care who your leader is or who you are. Take me back, now!”

“Unfortunately, I can’t disobey the leader’s orders,” Takesugi didn’t react to you obtaining a sword at all. He was oddly calm.

The guard on the other end seemed like he was about to faint.

“If you don’t want me to kill you and then your leader, you’ll take me back.”

Takechi sighed audibly, “There hasn’t been a man in the whole galaxy who could take on Takasugi Shinsuke,” he sounded merely irritated. “What makes you think you’re special?”

You looked at Takechi in horror, your hand holding the sword started to shake violently. The name Takasugi Shinsuke had struck a chord, you had heard of the name, many times. You teared up as your body started trembling in fear, you couldn’t even grasp the sword’s handle right because of the way your hands were shaking. The sword was heavier than any other sword you had held before or was it your limbs that were heavier?

You couldn’t stop trembling, your cheeks were wet from your tears. The image of Shinsuke that came up in your mind made your throat clench. The soba you had eaten for dinner with your boyfriend and his friends earlier almost made its way back into your mouth.

Fighting was futile, you knew that. You would never admit it out loud though. Ever since you had met the four Joui rebels for the first time during the war, you were afraid of Takasugi. But unlike your feelings of him, when you joined the group, Takasugi had grown fond of you almost too much.

Takasugi had trained you to be scared of him, his image and his name.

You were thrown back in time, there was this thick, bitter smell of blood lingering in the air and the fields were full of corpses. Your eyes widened as your breathing became erratic and uneven. The grip you had on the sword loosened, the loud metallic ‘clunk’ sound of the sword hitting on the floor echoed in the empty hallway of the ship.

“You’ll be fine,” Takechi took a step closer towards you and gently walked you to the guard. “As long as you listen to us that is.”

Takechi gestured towards the hall, “Don’t make anything difficult.”

The guard took his sword from the floor and put it back in its case before showing you the way. You couldn’t dare to speak but instead got lost within your own frantic thoughts as the guard walked you towards what you guessed was the monster’s inn.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t think of a way out of this ship. You didn’t have anything with you. Takechi had caught you off guard when you were returning home after a night of drinking with your old friends. Both Gintoki and Katsura had offered to walk you home but you had refused. You had thought it was better if they took care of the blindly drunk Sakamoto but now you regretted turning their offer down.

You barely reacted when the guard shoved you inside a room with no lights on. In the dark, you couldn’t see anything, there wasn’t a single light source.

The door closed audibly and you turned to the sound. “Hey!” you called out to the guard who took you here but the door was already closed., there wasn’t a handle on the door either. Or at least you couldn’t find one in the pitch dark of the room.  

You punched at the door in frustration. “Let me out!”

A rustling sound coming from behind you made you flinch. He was here. You could tell by the smell. Your head was swimming within the scent of his cologne and smoke. You knew who this smell belonged to. He was clearly trying to taunt you in here, where you couldn’t escape. Typical Takasugi. Enjoying the fear he had threaded into your soul as always. Perhaps that was the reason why you were here. So he could have some sort of sick entertainment for himself.

“I’m not scared of you,” you called out, your voice trembled in fear, there was no way you could hide the pathetic tone in your voice.

“Oh, really?” came a voice right next to your ear.

The color drained from your face, your legs shook uncontrollably and you lost your balance, falling backward onto what you guessed was a bed.

Just how much power did he hold over you?

The familiar voice started laughing at your miserable attempt of showing bravery.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the dark and the first thing you saw was the outline of him. He stood in front of you menacingly, facing your way, watching you with some sort of sick amusement.

“Why am I here?” You spoke in a softer tone, trying to get up from the bed to find something to fight him with.

“How long has it been?” He ignored everything you just had said, “We last saw each other when you decided to leave with Gintoki.”

It had been a long time since you had last seen Takasugi and honestly, you had hoped you would never have to see him again. You wanted to imagine this as a bad nightmare, before long you would wake up in Gintoki’s bed with a hangover, right?

You slowly made your way to the edge of the bed, your feet touched the ground. As you got up the floor creaked loudly. “You’re not the likable type to keep in contact with.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” Takasugi chuckled lowly and you heard a heavy click as he turned on the lamp on his nightstand.

The small light coming from the lamp was enough to illuminate the entire room. You finally got a good look at the room. It was clean and neat. Everything was in place, although there weren’t that many things in the room to start with. There was a bed, a nightstand, and a desk.

He stood leaning onto the desk, where he possibly sat and spent his time planning his new terror attacks. The desk was covered with folders, he had a library full of books next to it and his walls above the desk were decorated with the newspaper cut-outs of your friends.

The pictures of all of you together looked haunting. You couldn’t remember why you were smiling in every single one of them. Maybe it was what people called smiling through the pain.

Your eyes landed on the tall figure, lighting his pipe.

There he was, Takasugi Shinsuke.

He inhaled the smoke through his pipe, his eye was on you, watching you intently.

“Why am I here, Shinsuke?” you spoke clearly, hiding your hands that were shaking violently behind your back.

“You look pretty,” his eye landed on your face and then to your body. “Have you been eaten well?”

“Shinsuke, please,” you pleaded, ah, his name on your lips sounded like a prayer.

Takasugi pulled the chair from his desk and sat on it. He moved sluggishly slowly, he took another drag of smoke from his pipe before talking. “I need to get patched up.”

He unfastened his kimono just enough to give you a glimpse of the small cut on his chest.

Your lower lip started trembling. He had to be fucking with you. All of this, the trouble his men went through to kidnap you and the time he wasted… all of it just because of a small cut on his chest?

He didn’t need to be patched up, he was mocking you. He didn’t need a reason to have you here.

“Please let me go home,” you sobbed. You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded anymore, you would do anything to go back to home. “I need to go back to Gintoki.”

“There’s a first aid kit under the bed.” Takasugi exhaled the smoke with an evil grin on his face.

“Shinsuke, listen to me-”

“Don’t make me wait, you know how impatient I am.”

“You have to let me go,” you begged him in tears. “I don’t want any of us to fight anymore.”

“Are you disobeying me?” He didn’t miss a single tone, he put his pipe away before he got up from his chair and took a step forward. “Do you really want to take that chance?”

You took a step back, mirroring his actions.

“You’ve always been so stubborn.” he started walking towards you, forcing you to walk backward. And you did. You took a couple of steps back until you stumbled over the bed and fell backward.

A yelp left your lips as you fell on the mattress, laying on your back. You tried to lift yourself off of the bed but Takasugi climbed on top of you. “If it were Gintoki, you’d be helping him without hesitation, right?”

You noticed his gaze on your bare legs sticking out from your kimono. With a desperate attempt, you tried to cover them.

That made Takasugi chuckle, “Aren’t you a little too shy?” His hand landed on your inner thigh, caressing the soft flesh before kneading it gently. You flinched when Takasugi ran his fingers up your thigh. His other hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him in the eye, his smoldering eye wandered over your cute eyes before stopping on your lips. “Or… are you scared?”

Takasugi smirked as his hand went further under your kimono, out of shock you closed shut your thighs but fingers were already brushing against your panties. “But this girl’s excited,” he scoffed as he cupped your pussy.

You softly gasped, your cheeks flushed bright pink. “Stop it.”

Your words made his lips curl upwards. “Or what?”

“Gintoki will kill you,” you gritted your teeth.

“Ah, really?” His hand cupping your chin went to grab a chunk of your hair tightly to forcefully tilt your head. “But I don’t think I can stop.” He buried his face to the crook of your neck, making you tremble as he inhaled your scent and exhaled his hot breath on your pulse. “Not when I finally have you here, alone .”

“Please,” You tensed under him but he didn't seem to notice. “Gintoki-.”

“You shouldn’t call out some other man’s name when you’re with me,” Takasugi’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck.

Tears started running down your cheeks right away. When you loudly sobbed, he pulled his face away from your neck and his half-lidded, hazy stare found you. He brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it slowly behind your ear. “I like seeing this terrified look on you, it suits you very well,” he purred, wiping your tears with his knuckles.

Pausing for a second, he looked at you with a bored expression.  “Don’t cry now,” swiping his thumb across your lower lip, he pressed it on the corner of your lip and gently pulled it down to slightly part your lips. Then he lowered himself over your face, pressing his chest against yours until his lips met yours.

His hand between your legs crept inside your panties. Takasugi ran his finger between your folds and smiled against your lips because of how wet you were. His growing erection between your bodies poked your stomach as he shamelessly ground you into the bed. You gasped softly into his mouth, your hands weakly pushing at his chest.

He moaned encouragingly to get you to kiss him back and started using his entire arm to finger your twitching cunt.

The pleasure made your head spin. You couldn’t focus on anything, you hardly noticed how he had slid out of his kimono and his free hand that was stroking his cock.

He decidedly pulled away from the kiss and with using a single hand, he put you on his lap, his fingers left your pussy to rub on your clit with his thumb instead. “Do you want me to stop?” he took a staggered breath.

“Yes,” you stammered yet your body said the opposite. Your hips rolled forward each time he pressed his thumb firmly over your clit.

“Really?” he raised a brow, squinting his eye as he rubbed tight circles over your clit.

You couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed it. Not when your juices were leaking out from your pussy, soaking your thighs and his kimono, exposing your arousal of the situation.

Nobody knew you were here. You didn’t need to act tough anymore. You had nothing to prove to anyone in this room. Takasugi knew you better than any of your friends, even better than your own boyfriend. Takasugi knew what made you feel happy, scared, sad and what made you feel amazingly good.

“I’ve missed you.” Takasugi’s words left you petrified. The walls you had built over the years came tumbling down one by one. All of that mental sanity you thought you had built up dropped.

“Do you want me to continue?” he rephrased it.

“Shinsuke,” you softly sighed, nodding sheepishly.

Takasugi smirked at your reaction. Then he pulled at the tender skin of your folds just enough to expose your soaking wet entrance to his hungry eye. His other hand held your hand tightly and guided it onto his cock.

When your hand wrapped around his cock, he let out a breathy laugh. Takasugi leaned forward to take your tit peeking out from your kimono in his mouth and his hands went to fiddle with the ribbon of your kimono. Once he managed to unfasten the ribbon completely, his hands slid up your body, taking your kimono with them. You took your hand away from his cock only momentarily to help Takasugi and shrugged your clothing off your shoulders.

As you were about to rewrap your hands around his cock, Takasugi abruptly lifted you up and slammed you down onto his cock.

You let out a whimper, your lips parted and moaned his name in need.

He had already pushed himself balls deep into you, filling you up to the brim so perfectly. He gritted his teeth as your walls pulsated around his cock, and roughly thrust inside. He grabbed you by your sides, his nails digging into your skin as he mercilessly began pounding in your pussy.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers twirled around his long straight hair, moaning quietly into his neck each time he hit a sensitive spot. Takasugi’s thrusts became stronger and more animalistic each time you screamed or whimpered.

“Needy,” Takasugi said, continuing to mercilessly thrust into your pussy, “aren’t we?”

Your eyes rolled back to the back of your head, completely lost in the sweet ecstasy of his cock stretching you out. The squelching sounds coming from your pussy were louder than the sound of the running engine of the ship.

“Shinsuke,” you breathed his name in between your sweet moans of pleasure, “more.” Your hips were moving to meet his rough thrusts, begging for him to give you more.

Takasugi slammed into you with an amazing force, tearing a silent scream out of you. He started to fuck you frantically almost immediately. His hand went to rub tight circles around your sensitive spot.

You began shaking, your legs nearly gave up from under you but you managed to slam yourself onto his cock a couple more times before your walls clenched around him.

He let out a low hiss as your walls tightened around his cock and pushed inside of you for the last time, spilling his entire load inside your unprotected fertile cunt with a loud moan.

You didn’t dare to speak once Takasugi pulled out of you, it was still hard to grasp the reality of the situation for you. You two hadn’t spoken for over many years and the first thing you did was to cheat on your boyfriend with him.

Gintoki would be so disappointed. Not at you but at himself, for not walking you home. He would blame himself for this and this would add fuel to the slight hatred he had for Takasugi. Though none of it even mattered anymore.

You were far too tired to care.

Closing your eyes, you wished to wake up in between your boyfriend’s arms when you opened them the next time.

But Takasugi wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime sooner.

#dub-con

[fonulyn]

I don't know I you're still doing the prompts buuut, Okey, Chris t shirt Okey Meh. BUT What about Leon in Piers' t shirt? My snipy guy is also ripped as hell uwu

you’re always welcome to send me prompts! it just may take me somewhere between ten minutes and ten months to get anything done :’D 

haha here have some mutual shirt-exchanging~ ;D

--

“Where the hell are all my shirts,” Piers grumbled to himself, blinking sleepily at the empty shelf where a pile of shirts usually should’ve been. Sure they hadn’t done laundry in like... a month, but Piers had still been fairly sure that he’d had at least some clean shirts left. All he could find was the tacky Christmas sweater with a reindeer and wildly blinking lights, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for that. 

With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was. How old was this damn shirt? He was ninety-nine percent sure that Leon wouldn’t be able to properly fit into it either. 

Yawning and scratching the back of his head - already that made the shirt ride up a little and Piers’ yawn morphed into an annoyed grunt - he headed towards the kitchen to see if they at least had coffee left. If not, he would break something. Probably the shirt that was stretched across his chest and straining at the seams. 

Thankfully there was almost a full pot of fresh coffee, but Piers didn’t even manage to get that far before he was handed a mugful. Carefully he took it between his palms and took a long sip, closing his eyes and sighing happily as it was exactly how he’d wanted it. 

Only when Leon chuckled a little, Piers opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “You’d better not be laughing at me. I know how you get before your first cup of coffee,” he challenged, and they both knew that he was right. If anything, Leon was probably the grumpier one of them in the mornings before properly waking up. 

“Me?” Leon grinned, even raising his hands as if in surrender. “Never.“

That was when Piers noticed the shirt Leon was wearing, and immediately he frowned. “Isn’t that mine?” he asked, although he knew the answer already. The dark green BSAA shirt definitely wasn’t Leon’s, although to be honest, he looked all kinds of unfairly good in it, damnit. “C’mon, how is this fair, you stole my last clean shirt so that I’d have to wear this!?” He gestured at himself with the hand that was still holding the coffee mug, and almost managed to spill some of the coffee on himself. 

Leon laughed, giving a small shrug. He didn’t look sorry at all. “Well, I was kind of hoping that you’d just go shirtless,“ he admitted easily, still chuckling. “But this is nice, too. How did you even squeeze yourself into that?“

“Where did this even come from?“ Piers asked, picking at the shirt he was wearing. “It looks like something you wore when you were fifteen.“ It was a clear sign of how tired he still was that he didn’t even notice Leon approaching before he was startled by the other man standing right next to him, stepping so close their chests were almost touching. 

“It probably is,“ Leon admitted. He sounded distracted though, and didn’t even try to conceal how he was drinking in the sight, as he raked his gaze over Piers’ chest, the way the shirt really was so tight it left absolutely nothing to imagination. Without another word Leon leaned in, capturing Piers’ mouth with his own. 

The kiss tasted of coffee and willingly Piers allowed himself to be backed against the counter, sighing into Leon’s mouth as he felt a warm palm on his side, sliding upwards. They’d both been so busy for the past weeks that there had barely been any time for simple things like having a slow morning coffee together. Today they had no plans, so maybe they could make it a slow day. Maybe even do some of that laundry, Piers thought distantly, before Leon kissed him again and he thought nothing at all. 

Until something warm splashed onto his chest, immediately seeping through the thin material of the shirt he was wearing, and with a yelp he startled back. Somehow he’d forgotten he was still holding his coffee, and now there was a large, spreading stain on his chest. Thankfully the coffee hadn’t been that hot, mixed with a ton of milk like he wanted it. “Ew,” he pulled a face, “gross.”

Leon laughed, and took the still half-full coffee mug from Piers, setting it aside onto the countertop. Then he grabbed the hem of the shirt Piers was wearing and pulled it upwards, and Piers willingly lifted his arms to aid in getting the garment off properly. Afterwards Leon still used the stained shirt to wipe over Piers’ chest, before throwing it onto the counter next to the mug. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?“ Piers asked. He tried his best to sound accusing but he couldn’t hold back the grin, nor the amusement that was evident in his tone. Casually he leaned back against the counter, and well, he couldn’t really deny that he enjoyed the way the older man was looking at him. So as much as he was trying to look grumpy, it was a win-win situation for all.

Leon hummed, a pleased sound that wasn’t really an answer to the question. He didn’t deny it either, though, and seemed way too pleased to be able to run his palms down bare skin instead. “What do you say, we could go back to bed?” he asked, voice a little hoarse, eyes dark as he took in the sight. 

And well. The laundry could wait. There were far more important things to attend to. 

#piers nivans #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #nivannedy #piers/leon #my fics #i'm still sleepy too lol #so pls excuse typos and such #Anonymous #ask and i shall answer #replies #chatty chat chat #my nivannedy fics