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badfry · 1 year

Text

lightheaded

۰ ۪۪۫۫ · you cut your hair. someway, somehow, that led to rosalie hale spending the night with you.

☾ warnings—cheating (my apologies, emmett)

☾ word count—2.2k

☾ notes—i wanted self-indulgent soft collegiate rosalie to christen this blog with. as ariana grande once said: i want it, i got it. written with f!reader in mind, but it can be read as gn!reader. sfw (with the potential for a sequel...)

At first, you didn’t think she was ever on campus during the day—you never ran into her at the college bookstore shopping for textbooks at the start of the year, or at the coffee shop downing a triple shot espresso before her classes, or at the bar crying into a shot glass after them, like you had with everyone else.

So in the beginning, you only ever saw her during your night class.

But when the second semester started, you could have sworn you saw her everywhere, all the time. You thought you were karmically doomed; you’d spent the entirety of the last semester staring at the back of her head, imagining what it would be like to lean over her shoulder and press your lips to the perpetually downturned corners of hers—maybe she’d melt a little, smile the smallest smile, but you’d be able to feel it once she pressed back into you—

Maybe you were doomed. Or maybe she was just that magnetic, and now that your eyes knew her shape, they would forever be drawn to her—no matter how big the crowd or how dark the room was.

Her name was Rosalie; she never responded to Rose. There was a big, gleaming, asscher cut diamond perched prettily on her left ring finger. She never said a thing in class, even though she sat in the front row. She wasn’t eager to answer any of the professor’s questions or awkwardly overshare about her life like the others who sat beside her. You didn’t know if she was really engaged, or if she was just rich with flashy tastes, but you stupidly hoped it was the latter.

Her hair fell to the middle of her back in perfectly blown-out golden waves. She never put it up. She never grew it longer, cut it shorter, or dyed it a different color. She was simply pristine—never a hair out of place or a split end to be trimmed.

You thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. So did everyone else. Your classmates all took their turns getting shot down, and you sat back and watched them all get their hearts broken. You took it as a reminder: your imaginings would never be anything more than that, so it was best to move on.

You cut your hair at the end of the semester when you were sure you’d never see her again. People in movies always cut their hair after something big—a break-up, a rejection, whatever—to help them get over it. It had never really worked for you in the past, but you still did it every six months or so. Your head felt lighter even if your heart didn’t.

You suspected that you would spend the rest of your life thinking about Rosalie; often now, then less and less frequently over time, until one day it would just be every once in a blue moon. She wasn’t the sort of woman you could forget.

Especially when you saw her everywhere you went.

So when a late-night study session at the library turned into a café-crawl for a pick-me-up, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see her there—but you were. Your heart even skipped a beat.

She was sitting at a table for two right next to the door, reading a book. She had a cup of coffee, but it looked cold and untouched. For some reason, you found yourself asking her, “Does it suck?”

Rosalie peered up at you through her lashes. In the dim light of the café, her eyes were dark and sensuous. She grimaced, and you felt your stomach turn to lead. “Pardon me?”

You wanted to turn around and run away. What the hell had gotten into you? Why did you think you could just walk up and talk to her? She was out of your league. She was probably taken. And yet you gestured weakly to her cup despite all of that. “The coffee. It looks like you didn’t like it.”

Rosalie stared at you for a moment longer, then glanced at her cup of coffee. “No,” she said slowly, “I’m more of a tea person, is all.”

It sounded like she was tasting the words before she settled upon them. You wondered if that’s how she usually spoke; carefully, reverently, like each word meant something special to her. “I guess you were feeling adventurous today,” you said, partly to her, partly to yourself.

“I suppose so,” she said, closing her book and laying it on the table. She ran her eyes up and down your frame; you felt a shiver crawl down your spine. “Would you like to join me?” she finally asked.

“Yes,” you said, far too eagerly. “I mean, sure. I need to order, but I’ll be right back.” No shit, Sherlock, you thought to yourself. Could you embarrass yourself any worse? You hoped not.

You ordered yourself a drink, and when the barista asked if you’d like anything else, you hesitated. She was a tea person, but what sort of tea person? Green tea, black tea, decaf? Maybe it was a bad idea—it definitely was a bad idea—but—

When you came back to the table with a drink for both you and her, Rosalie appeared unsurprised. People probably bought her drinks all the time. Disappointment curdled in your gut, but you still sat down across from her and pushed the tea her way. “I hope you like Earl Grey.”

Rosalie closed the book she was reading and closed her pale, bony fingers around the handle of the mug. “I… do,” she said. She pulled the mug closer to her, then cradled it between her palms. She didn’t sip at it; she seemed to be too busy enjoying the way its warmth seeped into her.

You sipped at your own drink nervously. Your hands were trembling, so you kept them wrapped tight around your mug. Despite your drink’s warmth, your hands went cold from the lack of circulation. You’d officially run out of things to say.

“You cut your hair,” Rosalie suddenly pointed out.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you stuttered. You hadn’t expected her to remember you, let alone how your hair used to look.

She must have misread your expression, because then she asked, “Do you not like it?”

“I do,” you assured her. “Sort of. I’m still getting used to it.”

Rosalie tilted her head and examined you far too closely. You tried and failed to swallow past the lump in your throat. “It suits you,” she said, and your heart nearly leaped out of your chest. “And even if you end up disliking it, it will grow back.”

“That’s true.” She was still staring at you, something indecipherable hidden behind the dark depths of her eyes, and as much as you reveled in her undivided attention, it made you panic. “Have you ever thought about cutting yours?”

“No,” she responded immediately. “Why? Do you not like it?”

You barked out a strange little laugh before you could stop yourself. “I love it,” you said. “It’s beautiful, really. I just can’t leave my hair alone, so I find it hard to believe anyone else can.”

Rosalie smiled. You thought she looked sad, somehow. “You’re sweet,” she sighed. “My hair grows very slowly, so I never thought cutting it any shorter would be smart.”

“Oh, it’s always a stupid idea,” you admitted. “But that’s part of the fun. And like you said, it’ll grow back, slow or fast. And if all else fails, you could get a wig.”

Rosalie looked away from you, brows furrowed. You were worried—had you offended her? Maybe you’d come across as too pushy or judgmental. You should change the subject. Your eyes flitted about wildly, desperate for something to talk about that wouldn’t send her running away from you; they landed on her ring, which was certainly not a topic that would help you out anytime soon.

“Are you engaged?” you asked anyway because you loved to stick your foot in your mouth.

But it made her look at you again. You could have sunk into her eyes and never resurfaced. “Not exactly,” she murmured.

What does that mean, you wanted to ask, but you didn’t get the chance to.

“I think you’re right,” Rosalie said. “You should cut my hair.”

You blinked. “What?”

Rosalie smiled, and this time, you thought she actually looked happy. “You should take me home and cut my hair.”

Your face went numb. “Okay,” you choked out.

And so you brought Rosalie Hale home.

She sat in your desk chair and stared at you through the mirror you’d set up in front of her as you asked her how short she wanted to cut her hair; she held one hand up to her shoulder in response.

“Above or below?”

“What do you think would look better?”

You lost the unofficial staring contest Rosalie had started. “You could pull off anything, really. But it doesn’t matter what I think.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t matter,” she said.

“Why does it?” you asked.

“You said my hair is beautiful.” Rosalie tilted her head back until you looked her in the eye once more. Under the bright white light of your lamp, her eyes looked lighter than they had in the café—maybe they were hazel. “I’d like it if you still thought that after cutting it.”

“As long as it’s what you want,” you told her, “I can promise you I will.”

Luckily, she seemed to take you at your word. "Above, then," she settled on.

"Alright," you agreed, carefully gathering her hair between your hands without tugging it too hard. It was thick, coarse, and ridiculously weighty in your palms, although it had always appeared delicate and sleek from afar. "This might take a while. Do you want a drink or something?"

"No, thank you." Rosalie made having good posture look easy. "Take your time. I believe I trust you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you said, half-joking. Your cheeks were burning. Rosalie's trust weighed on you heavier than her hair. You had no clue how you'd earned it, but you never wanted to lose it.

It took you a little over an hour to cut her hair. Your arms were sore and the fingers on your dominant hand ached to hell and back, but you didn't care. Your eyes were glued to Rosalie's reflection in the mirror; you thought she looked sad again. "What do you think?" you asked her, stomach churning.

Rosalie stared at herself in silence for what felt like the longest minute of your life. Then she gave herself a smile, tremulous at the edges, and said to you, "It's not so heavy anymore."

"It's kind of weird, right?"

"A little," she admitted huskily, peering down at the golden strands that littered your floor now. Her chest rose and fell swiftly, but you couldn't hear her breathing.

"It's normal to cry, the first time," you were quick to assure her. You hesitated, then laid a hand upon her shoulder. "I won't judge."

Rosalie took a deep breath in, held it for a moment, then sighed, "No. I'm fine." After a moment, she stood up and turned to you. Her eyes were warm, flitting back and forth across your face rapidly. "Do you still think my hair looks beautiful?"

You couldn't answer her when she looked at you like that—like you were something special. You looked at your feet, the hair all over your floor, and eventually, you asked her, "Do you regret it?"

"No."

"Then yes."

Rosalie huffed out a laugh. "Are you worried you might hurt my feelings?"

"No," you muttered, "I just think you're beautiful when you're happy. In general, I mean."

Rosalie took a step closer to you. Your heart fluttered in response. As though she had heard it and wanted to feel it for herself, she reached her hands up and pressed them to your chest. "Look at me," she whispered.

You tried, but you couldn't. She dragged her hands up each side of your neck, leaving millions of tiny goosebumps in their wake, then cradled your face between her palms. She pulled it up to hers gently, beseechingly, until finally, you could look her in the eye. "I'm sorry," you sighed. You thought of how she'd said she wasn't exactly engaged, and how at that moment, you could feel the white gold band of her ring rubbing against your skin; even still, you thought of how long you'd imagined yourself pressing your lips to hers.

"Don't be," she entreated. Then she wrapped one of her hands around the back of your head, pressed her chest to yours, and kissed you ever-so-softly.

You shuddered; your breaths entwined. Rosalie's lips were colder than you'd thought they would be, so you sucked the bottom one into your mouth, then the top. When you pulled back from her, her mouth was warmer and wetter than it had been to start with, gleaming prettily in the white lamplight.

"Would you mind," Rosalie panted, "if I stayed the night?"

"Of course not," you said, against your better judgment.

Rosalie grinned and kissed you harder than before. You could feel it, just like you'd always imagined; it made you grin, too.

#☾—fry writes.#twilight #rosalie hale #twilight x reader #rosalie hale x reader

139 notes · View notes

ssamie · 3 years

Text

epilogue. “your girlfriend’s kinda hot”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide and suggestive themes + dirty jokes

masterlist. suicide freak!

"hey uh, welcome to my stream i guess" he said as he spared the camera a quick glance "im not really playing tonight because an incident has recently occurred in this household" kenma said with a tired sigh

nobody else knew it, but the said 'incident' was y/n accidentally setting half of their living room on fire

the reason? apparently, she wanted to try burning herself to death in the furnace. obviously, it didn't work. and all that's left from that is more shit for kenma to clean up and a trip to yosano-san.

kenma is stressed. and y/n is still alive. both of them are facing problems.

"can you please wear a maid outfit- no."

kenma shook his head as he continued playing, glancing at the chat once in a while to read the veiwers' questions and comments

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: how about cat ears?!

user: ^^ cATBOY CATBOY CATBOY

user: u suck at this game wtf

kuroo.tetsu: hey kenma ;)

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"first of all, i do not suck at minecraft thank you very much" kenma scoffed

"second of all, go away kuroo. im still mad at you"

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: LMFAOOO kuroo what did u do?? 💀💀

user: he probably broke kenma's pc

user: PLSS he's the one kenma’s throwing shade at on twitter

kuroo.tetsu: STOP THE SLANDER 😔✋🏼

user: rooster head lookin ass

user: ^^ NOT THE HAIR

kuroo.testsu: 😃😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma sighed as he continued building a cute little cottage. he was currently vibing, just building y/n a cute cottage for her to probably burn later on.

and he decided it would be nice to go on stream since his oh-so-lovely girlfriend was still out for work.

ah yes, kenma has somehow kept y/n alive all those years.

barely.

hence why his phone was being bombarded with messages from her, all of which being blurry selfies.

the photos had her sporting a huge grin while atsushi panicked in the background.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: ayo, ur phone's blowing up

user: do you have a girlfriend?

user: KODZUKEN LET ME SUCK UR TOES 😋😋🤩

user: ^ ayo chill 😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma simply ignored them and continued on with his task. all was going well until a loud slam was heard. his cat-like eyes widened as he heard a familiar voice singing from downstairs, it was undoubtedly y/n.

kenma chuckled nervously and muted his mic.

but of course, cute dumb catboy didn't actually mute his mic. haha <3

he ignored all the questions in the chat, all of them being speculations that he has a girlfriend. which he does, but they simply did not need to know that <3

"kenma~" she yelled out "i have a surprise for you!!" she said, followed by menacing giggles.

kenma glanced at the camera before hopping off his gaming chair and peeking his head out of the door.

"y/n, im streaming!! stay down there!" he yelled out in panic

"aw, you're playing hard to get aren't ya?" she chuckled

kenma deadpanned as he saw her limping up the stairs, with her bandages torn and unravelled, same with her clothes. he didn't really think much of it since this is usually how she comes home.

its most likely just due to work and/or another suicide attempt.

"so, kenma.. you'll never know what just happened to me today" she started off with a goofy grin

"im streaming, atleast let me turn it off first-"

she paid no mind to him as she peeled off her ruined coat and pointed to her poorly bandaged stomach

"i got stabbed!"

"you got what?!"

kenma furrowed his brows as he immediately rushed over to his side, cradling her face and waist as he inspected her injuries

"are you okay, kitten?" he asked worriedly

"yep, apparently it wasnt deep enough to be fatal" she sighed dejectedly

"please don't be sad about that." kenma groaned "can you undress?"

"ara ara~ whats this?" she cooed "you're getting real bold, kenma" she smirked at him

she unbuttoned her shirt and started pulling down on her skirt "but since you asked so nicely-"

kenma simply sighed and shook his head. "i was gonna prepare you a bath but now im considering leaving you here to die"

"but the second option would've been better though" she smiled at him

"oh my fucking god."

kozume kenma. (22)

╰─▸ university student, stock trader, pro-gamer, youtuber, ceo of bouncing ball lpt.

╰─▸ y/n's struggling boyfriend. definitely needs a pay after all he's been through.

╰─▸ currently panicking because his girlfriend got stabbed.

l/n y/n. (22)

╰─▸ operative/member of the armed detective agency.

╰─▸ kenma's girlfriend. kinda dumb, very hot to compensate for it. still hasn't died yet.

╰─▸ currently bleeding and wounded. also hoping for severe blood loss.

"kenma, did you know" she mused in a teasing tone "lack of sleep and too much stress could possibly lead to poor memory and lack of awareness"

kenma looked up at her with a look of confusion. he was currently kneeled down before her while she was sat on the bed as he cleaned her wound up with a damp towel.

"why are you telling me this?" he asked

"i just thought it probably applied to you" she snickered

"why? i didnt forget anything-"

he cut himself off with a huge intake of air. he slowly turned his head to look at the screen which still had his stream going on. to make it worse, the camera was on and they were both clearly in the camera's field of view.

to make things worse worse, his mic was on the whole time and the live chat was in shambles.

"i hate it here" he sighed

kenma laid his head on her lap as he continued on patching her up, honestly not caring that this whole scene was being recorded for thousands or millions of people to see.

"well, atleast the internet could finally see my beauty before i die" she laughed

she ran her fingers through kenma's hair as he grumbled under his breath. kenma was a pretty private person. he made sure not to overshare, given his current 'influencer' status. and he was planning on keeping his relationship a secret, though it seems he can't do that anymore.

"might as well say hi" she shrugged

so of course, she then decided to walk up to the camera looking utterly dishevelled and roughed up.

for context, the newly wrapped bandages around her stomach was being stained already by a crimson red hue and it was only getting worse the more she moved, undoubtedly messing up her wound.

"hi, im kenma's girlfriend and if i see you flirting with him i will make you regret it" she grinned

"y/n!" kenma groaned from the bed "you're close to dying right now, turn the stream off"

ignoring him, she proceeded to read the veiwers' comments, laughing at some of them while she joked around.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: heLLO?!?!

user: GE HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOOO

user: bruh, did i just hear that right? were you fuckin stabbed?

user: ur kinda hot tho

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma furrowed his brows as he reluctantly walked up behind her, reading the comments with varying reactions

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: well damn, hot bloody girl comes in and suddenly im lesbian

user: kenma looks so done

kuroo.tetsu: hi y/n ;)

user: HER NAME IS Y/N

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"jesus christ shut up, kuroo" kenma grumbled out with a sigh

"yup! yup! im y/n, and no, i am not a criminal. i swear." she shook her head

"i got an injury from my job, that's all." she cleared up

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: tangina nyo sana ol

user: MSKAKAKKA

user: THIS IS LOWKEY ICONIC

user: time to scratch another gamer boy off my possible bf list 😔

user: girl wtf happened to u

user: that's wack bro 🚶‍♀️

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"great question, random person from the internet!" she beamed "see, what happened was.."

"i went on a certain mission and got severely injured. though, when i called for help nobody responded" she said

kenma furrowed his brows at her words. "why didn't anybody respond?" he asked. she sighed and fiddled with her torn bandages, pouting her lips as she does so.

"well, when i told them that i was finally on death's door, all they said to me was 'congratulations!' and all that.." she said "what's your take on that, hm?" she asked kenma

"im not surprised" he said

she grinned at his words and leaned in for a kiss. "you're so mean to me, kenma~" she whined

she licked her lips as she held his blushing face in her hands, she nuzzled their noses as she leaned in closer to him.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

kuroo.tetsu: oh shit 😳

user: we all know where this is heading ;)

user: sana ol talaga punyemas

user: AYO CHILL

user: why we goin so fuckin fasstttt 😳

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma hastily turned the camera off as soon as y/n's lips touched his.

"kitten, were still- hmph-"

he was only silenced as she slipped her tongue in his mouth, smirking lightly as she ran her fingers through his hair

"thanks babe." she said as she pulled away, giving him a soft peck on his cheek and a nod "anyways.." she hummed as she turned the camera on once again

she looked through the chat while kenma slaps his face to get rid of his blush.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: ur fuckin freaky

kuroo.tetsu: oya oya 😼😼

user: MS MAAM I JUST MET U AND I LOVE U ALREADY WJABSJSJJS

user: not me blushing chiiilllleeeeee 🏃‍♀️

user: KENMA IS FLUSTERED

kuroo.tetsu: kenma, i didnt expect this from u 😼

user: im so fucking JEALOUS GRR😡

user: girl r u bleeding rn 😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

upon reading a certain comment, she subconsciously grazed her fingers against her bandaged wound. her eyes slightly widening as she felt a concerning amount of wetness seeping through

she glanced at kenma who was still calming himself down and inspected her wound

"oh my.." she muttered, though she couldn't help but let a smile slip through

so like any normal person would do, she simply ignored her bleeding wound and the fact that she was getting a bit lightheaded. haha <3

"anyways, let's answer some questions!" she beamed

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: what's ur full name

user: what's ur job miss girl

user: are you possibly looking for a gf, because i am more

than willing to take the spot 🚶‍♀️

user: how did you meet??

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"alright, those are all very nice questions" she chuckled. kenma, who's now calmed down, sat down beside her to look at the chat.

"first, im l/n y/n" she mused "nice to meet ya"

"second im a detective! mhm, im cooler than your fathers"

"third, it depends, belladonna" she cooed as she sent the camera flirty smirk "are you perhaps willing to join me in a double suicide?"

"oh god.." kenma grumbled. he pouted at her and shook his head in disapproval. "don't flirt with random girls" he whined

"why not?"

"uh- because i am your beloved boyfriend, is that not good enough of a reason??"

"... anyways, we met at a cafe way back in high school" she said with a smile "also, i asked him to join me on a double suicide" she said

she was smiling and nodding as if it was the most normal thing in the world, all while kenma nods along

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: wtf are u okay 🗿

kuroo.tetsu: teenage romance 🤩

user: cute ❤️

user: im concerned ❤️

user: ur a detective?? cool

user: LMAOO I'LL GO ON A DOUBLE SEWER SLIDE

WITH U MOMMY 😩😩😋

user: ^^ SAME 😩

user: CHOKE ME WITH THOSE BANDAGES MOMMAE 😩

user: u r still bleeding 🚶‍♀️

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma was simply glaring at the chat as more compliments and flirtatious comments came flowing in, all of which were directed to his girlfriend.

"this is why i didn't wanna let people know about you.." kenma grumbled

"aww, why not?" she asked with a playful pout

"people are flirting with you." he sighed "also, stop asking for my girlfriend's onlyfans! she doesn't even have one!" he snarled

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: LMAOO CATBOY IS ANGRY 😩

user: y/n-senpai spit on me 😡😡

user: drop the onlyfans

user: chupapi munyanyo 😩

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"anyways, i'd hate to ruin the mood" she chimed in with a sluggish giggle "but im so wet kenma" she whined out

a menacing smirk was etched on her lips as kenma spluttered in response, a bright red hue covering his face almost instantly as he faced her with widened eyes

"y-y/n! why would you say that?!" he whisper shouted

"cuz i am" she whined out as she grabbed his hand and trailed it down her abdomen

she faced the camera and gave them a shit-eating grin as kenma mumbled out incoherent words

"y/n we should-" he cut himself off as he felt the concerning amount of blood drip down his whole arm

kenma's face paled as he looked up to see her smiling like a kid in a candy store, completely unbothered.

"y/n, you idiot! why didn't you tell me!" kenma exclaimed

"um- my girlfriend is bleeding. excessively. so uh- bye i guess" it was all he said before hastily ending his stream and turning off his computer.

"y/n, let's get you to a hospital" he said as he reached down to carry her away. though she simply slapped his hands off and closed her eyes.

"nope. this is my time, kenma. don't ruin it for me" she said

"you're fucking dying!!"

"well, would you like to join me?"

"no"

"damn." she muttered in response

"so...wanna fuck?" she asked sheepishly

"for the love of god-"

this was so messy :/

195 notes · View notes

bumblebee-moreno · 3 years

Text

Awkward meetings (GN!reader)

Request: "Awkward first meeting for all the boys" and "Awkward first meeting and You lost something very important to you and they’re helping you look for it with Frankie Morales" for @luminescentlily

(Boys included are: Din, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales, Max Phillips, Marcus P, and Marcus M.

Warnings: None?

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write. I had to leave a few boys out due to writer's block (Ezra, Tovar, and Zach Wellison), and I wanted to get this posted rather than continuing to stare at the screen in hopes of my brain miraculously functioning. To make up for my lack of inspiration at least a little bit, I added Marcus Moreno. Hope that's ok :)

Din Djarin

You feel a tug at your pant leg. Looking down, you are greeted by a pair of large watery eyes and big green ears. “Well hello there,” you smile, crouching down to be closer to the small child. “Where’s your family?”

He simply responds by lifting his arms towards you. You take that to mean he’d like to be lifted up. Scanning through over the crowded marketplace, you search for someone who the kid might belong to. You really have no idea what you’re looking for, having never seen anything like him, but you search nonetheless.

“Hey!” an angry voice calls out behind you. You whirl around, and before you know what’s happening, the child has been torn from your grasp and there’s a blaster to your head.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him I swear, I was just trying to find his family,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender.

The figure in front of you doesn’t respond at first, keeping his blaster pointed at you while he inspects the child for injury.

“Why did you have him?” The voice from under the helmet demands.

“I just found him by himself and I wanted to make sure he found his family,” you explain, voice shaking. “Are you his… Does he belong to you?”

“… yes.” He cautiously returns his blaster to its holster.

“I’m sorry,” you relax. “I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s just so… small. I didn’t want him to stay lost.”

The Mandalorian clutches the kid close to his chest as if he’s afraid they’ll be separated again. “Thank you.” He nods his head just enough for you to see the motion.

Javier Peña

“Shit, I’m going to be so fucking late,” you mutter to yourself, walking as fast as you can without sending the tall stack of papers in your arms flying.

On your way down the hall, you start going down your mental checklist.

‘Closed the window so the cat doesn’t escape? Check.’

‘Turned off the lights? Check.’

‘Locked the front door? Fuck.’

You stop in your tracks. How could you forget to lock your front door? You spin on your heel and run back towards your apartment, your one free hand switching between searching for your keys and adjusting the unstable tower balanced on your other arm.

In your haste to get your apartment locked so you can get to work on time, you fail to watch where you’re going.

Your body smacks into another. You fall backwards, losing your grip on the meticulously organised files. They scatter across the floor, completely losing the order you’d spent all night putting them in. The wind is knocked out of you for just long enough to hear the man you ran into grumping about how you should watch where you’re going.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m running late, I should’ve been paying more attention.” You pull yourself to your knees and start gathering your work off the floor. You’d normally stand and make sure the man you ran into is okay, but things at work are tense as it is, and being even later than you already are isn’t going to reflect well on you. Especially now that all of last night’s hard work needs to be done over.

You expect him to get up and walk past you. After his reaction to being practically tackled, you wouldn’t expect him to give you more than a second thought. But then a stack of papers lands on top of the one you’re already holding.

Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “You okay? You hit the ground kind of hard there,” Your neighbour asks.

You swallow thickly. “y-yeah, I’m fine,” you give a shaky smile. “How about you?”

“I’m all right, just running a bit late,” He offers a hasty smile before helping you to your feet. “I gotta get to work, but um, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, momentarily forgetting how late you are.

Agent Whiskey

‘Ugh I really needed this day off,’ you type underneath the photo before pressing send.

You place your phone on the edge of the tub before relaxing back into the warm water.

It isn’t long before your phone buzzes. Your eyes widen in horror at the response:

‘I think you’ve got the wrong number, darlin’.’ It’s paired with a photo of a man you’ve never met.

He is kinda cute though. You’d never think the whole “unironically cowboy” thing could ever work but… No. No. You can’t be thinking that kind of stuff. You just texted a stranger a photo of you in the bath for fuck’s sakes, you can’t be attracted to him after that!

You frantically scroll up to examine the photo you sent, breathing a sigh of relief when you confirm that the photo you sent didn’t have anything too revealing in it; between the angle of the camera and the bubbles in your bath, nothing too embarrassing is visible.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry, that was meant for a friend ’

You pick up the shred of paper your best friend scribbled their new number on while you were at lunch with them yesterday, to figure out what happened.

‘not a problem, It’s a nice distraction from this god awful meeting I’m stuck in’

You frown. ‘You’re in a meeting and you’re texting a total stranger?’

You return your gaze to the phone number in your hand. “what in the fuck,” you say aloud to yourself. The second to last digit. It’s supposed to be a 4. Not a 9.

A shaky photo appears on your phone. It’s obviously taken from peeking just the camera of his phone over the edge of the table.

‘Damn, that looks like a serious meeting, shouldn’t you be paying attention?’ If you were texting at work, especially in a meeting, you’d have your ass handed to you unless someone was dying (and even then, it would depend on what kind of mood your boss is in that day). And this guy is just casually texting you, a stranger, during a meeting with people who look like they make more money weekly than what your whole car is worth.

‘I’m a bit more concerned that I don’t even know the name of the person who texted me such a lovely photo 😉’

‘It’s Y/N.’ you send. ‘And please delete that picture, that’s kinda private’ you ask, crossing your fingers that he respects that.

‘Already done. Mine’s Jack, since you obviously weren’t going to ask 🤠’

A soft smile appears on your face. Maybe it is kind of okay that you accidentally typed in the wrong number. Or… it will be after you (lovingly) cuss out your friend for having such bad handwriting.

Frankie Morales

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself, searching through your pockets. “shitshitshitshitshitshitshit” You swear you just had them. Or… maybe you left them on the counter back at the library?

You turn around to run back, rifling through your bag. You only make it a few steps before you’re knocked backwards to the ground.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you blurt the moment you catch your breath again. Barely sparing a glance towards the man you ran into, you start gathering your books.

“No, no. I’m sorry,” the man insists. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He helps to gather your books.

“You okay?” he finally asks.

You look up at him and freeze. He’s really cute. In the ‘I give the best hugs in the world’ kind of way.

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. “I just think I lost my car keys at the library, and I’m running late for lunch with a friend.” You mentally kick yourself. You just ran over the only attractive man you’ve seen since moving here, and then the first thing you do is overshare?

“Oh, did you want some help looking?” he immediately offers.

“I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs. “I’ve got lunch plans I’m desperately trying to find an excuse to get out of, so you’re helping me, really.”

“Okay, um… sure,” you nod. “an extra set of eyes looking wouldn’t hurt.”

“Cool. I’m Frankie.”

You introduce yourself and shake his outstretched hand.

The two of you make your way back towards the library.

“so…” you break the uncomfortable silence. “Lousy lunch plans, huh?”

“…yeah,” Frankie falls silent for a moment. “A couple of guys I used to serve with invited me out and I didn’t really have an excuse to say no.”

“Don’t get along with them?”

“We used to be friends, but I’m kind of rethinking that lately.”

“Oh,” you debate asking more questions. But then again, he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to, right? “Did… did something happen?”

“Convinced me to go to South America a while back, which would’ve been fine, except we kind of got stuck there, and my wife was left alone with the baby.”

Your stomach dropped at this. You’re not even sure why; you just met the guy, you really have no reason to be disappointed he’s taken.

“Was she at least understanding?” You ask.

“huh?”

“Your wife.”

“Oh,” Frankie chew his lip for a moment. “no. When I got back, she was… possessive. Searching my phone, never letting me go out with friends, that kind of stuff. Separated a few months later.”

“Oh,” you try to ignore the fact that your heart skipped a beat; you can’t be excited—that’s insensitive. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, actually. I was helping you find your keys, and here I am ranting about my whole tragic backstory as if you actually cared.”

“I don’t mind.” You actually like listening to him. But you keep that to yourself.

“You shouldn’t have to listen to all that though—”

“Shit!” you interrupt him. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Frankie looks like he’s assuming the worst.

“…I didn’t lose my car keys. I walked here. And lunch with my friend is next week.” You chuckle bitterly. “I was so lost in my head I completely forgot she rescheduled. Sorry I wasted your time.”

“It’s okay,” Frankie laughs. You can’t help but smile at his lopsided dimple. “Hey, since you don’t have lunch plans and I want to get out of mine… Can I take you out? You can tell me your life’s story since you already know mine?”

“Sure,” you smile, though half of you is screaming to just leave the country to escape the embarrassment.

Max Phillips

“Ew, no.” you scrunch your nose.

“Hey, you’re the one that lost the bet.” Eva insists.

“I am not kissing a random stranger.” You sweep your gaze across the crowded café.

“It was your idea.” Eva sips her tea.

“That was because I thought I was going to win.” You cross your arms across your chest.

“You don’t get to opt out just because you’re a sore loser.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know them, what if they have a disease or something? Gross.” Your stomach turns at the idea.

“Okay, fine.” Eva sighs. And, for a fleeting moment, you have hope that she’s given in. “Kiss that guy then,” she points.

You turn. “Oh my god, Eva. No.”

“What? He doesn’t look like he has a disease,” Eva shrugs.

“He looks like a frat boy.”

“He’s cute though.” Eva leans in a not-at-all-subtle way to get a clearer view of him.

“I hate you.” You stand up. “And when I’m done, you’re buying me an entire bottle of vodka to wash my mouth with.”

“Yes!” Eva cheers triumphantly. A few people shoot her expressions of annoyance at the outburst.

You storm over to the man and pull him in by the collar. His lips barely brush against yours before you’re stomping back to your friend. Though, for a moment, you actually consider staying to talk to him. Eva was right, he definitely isn’t hard on the eyes.

You push the thought from your mind and collapse back into your seat, scowling at your friend.

“You’re literally the worst human being on the planet,” you huff.

“You’re just being dramatic,” Eva laughs.

“Am not.” Okay… maybe you are, but Eva can’t know that.

“Fine. We’ll go get you a drink once I’m back from the bathroom.” Eva skips off, still laughing about your reaction.

She’s barely out of sight before her seat is filled by the stranger you just kissed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I lost a bet,” you don’t look up at him, instead choosing the glare at a stain on the wooden table.

“I figured as much.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I also figured I have the right to at least know the name of the person who just kissed me.”

You reluctantly introduce yourself, still refusing to make eye contact with the man.

“I’m Max. And, if you want to apologise for kissing me without my consent,” he throws a napkin with a phone number scribbled in red sharpie onto the table in front of you, “You can call me.”

Marcus Pike

You hum quietly to yourself, unable to stop smiling. It’s been so long since you’ve gone on a real date. You turn on your shower, but instead of water coming from the showerhead, it starts leaking from the base of the hose.

That can’t be good. You turn off the water and fiddle with the shower. Maybe it just came loose.

You reach for the handle to try the water again. But before your hand can even touch the cool metal, the entire shower head disconnects from the wall and clatters to the shower floor.

Letting out an exasperated groan, you start gathering your clothes into a bag. You really don’t have time for this today. Crossing your fingers your neighbour is home, you head next door.

You’ve never actually talked to him, but you figure he’s probably a safer bet than the crazy old neighbour on your other side; the way he looks at you whenever you run into him gives you the jitters. And not the “he’s a creep” kind of feeling you get when anyone else stares for too long. More like the “he’s probably got a taxidermy cat in his living room and a human body in his closet” kind of feeling. So the neighbour you’ve never even introduced yourself to will have to do.

Your knock echoes through the quiet air. Shifting from foot to foot, you wait impatiently for an answer.

The door clicks open, leaving you face-to-face with your neighbour, who is way cuter up close than you expected him to be.

“…hi,” He greets you as if he’s startled by your presence.

“…hi…” you bite your lip and tear your gaze away from his face to examine your shoe. “I… Well, I live next door, and well—”

“I know,” he interrupts.

“I-What?”

“I’ve seen you… around. We get home from work at the same time, so…”

“Oh.” You chew on your lip for a moment. “Look, my shower broke, and I have a date I have to get to, and well…” you drift off. Are you really asking your irresistibly adorable neighbour who you’ve never met if you can use his shower?

“Oh. Okay, did you want to use mine then?” You pretend not to notice how pink his face has turned.

“Would you mind? I just—I’m running late and I don’t have time to figure out what’s wrong with mine before I leave and still have time to get ready to go.”

“Sure, Come on in,” He shuffles out of the way to allow you space to enter. “Down the hall, second door to the right.”

“Thank you so much,” you smile awkwardly. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You walk as quickly as you can without breaking into a run to get to the bathroom, leaving Marcus frozen in the doorway.

This is not how he imagined meeting you. Not that he imagined that at all. And he definitely hadn’t spent hours trying to figure out how to ask you out. Because that would be weird.

And he just let you use his shower to go on a date with someone else.

Fuck.

Marcus Moreno

“Excuse me,” a voice speaks up from behind you, just barely audible over your music. You turn around to find that the voice belongs to a young girl.

“Hello,” you greet taking out your headphones.

“Do you see that guy over there?” she asks, pointing across the cluttered bookstore to a man struggling to balance a tower of books while skimming the shelves for more.

“The one in the glasses?” you confirm.

“That’s my dad,” the girl nods. “He thinks you’re cute, but he’s too afraid to talk to you.”

“Oh,” you say, unsure whether you should be flattered or amused.

“He says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t want to weird you out,” she elaborates, “but I think he’s scared you won’t like him back.”

The man glances up, and, upon seeing his daughter talking to you, rushes over. He pauses only briefly when he trips over a box of books placed in the middle of the walkway.

“Oh, here he comes, act natural,” the girl whisper-yells just before her father arrives. “Oh, hey dad,” she greets him nonchalantly.

“Missy, what did we just talk about?” he scolds.

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I shouldn’t go up to strangers and tell them my dad thinks they’re cute even when he totally does.”

Missy’s dad freezes, a look of horrified embarrassment washing over his face. “You… You told them what?”

“I’m going to shop some more,” she walks away, winking at you.

“Hey, you get back here, young lady,” he calls after her, struggling not to raise his voice above a murmur in the middle of the peaceful book shop. His daughter ignores him.

He groans under his breath. “I’m sorry about her,” he turns back to you.

“It’s okay,” you laugh. “I’m Y/N,”

“Marcus.” He looks down at his armful of books. “I’d uh… I’d offer a handshake but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile. Marcus smiles back. You allow a moment of uncomfortable silence before speaking up again. “So… you think I’m cute?”

“What? No! I mean, Yes. I mean…” Marcus’ face scrunches up in embarrassment. “Yes? But not… not in a weird way. I wasn’t like… admiring you or anything. That’d be… weird.” Marcus hangs his head with an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll just shut up now.”

You smile again at the flustered man in front of you. After a moment, you pull a pen from your sweatshirt pocket.

“Well, here’s my number,” you say, writing as clearly as you can across his forearm. “You can text me if you decide you do think I’m cute… In a weird way.”

You walk to the counter to pay for your books, sincerely hoping he decides to text.

---

Taglist:

@pascalisthepunkest @trashbin2 @anatanotegami @beesting77 @northernpunk @pumpkin-stars

#Din djarin #Javier Peña #Agent Whiskey #Frankie Morales #Max Phillips #marcus pike #marcus moreno #gender neutral reader #gn reader #pedro pascal

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Note

32 with Roman

prompts are open

an anon requested some roman angst a lil while back, and while this isn’t super angsty it kinda is? lol

also i changed the wording a bit i hope thats ok

Of course he was here, you really shouldn’t have been surprised.

Roman had a tendency to worm his way back into your life, physically or mentally, one way or another. It’s like he knew when you were finally moving on, when you had finally pushed him from your consciousness, and decided that that was unacceptable.

You let out a heavy sigh as you watched him enter the house party, a perky blonde slung comfortably under his arm. The mummers had started then, people whispering and peeking over at him and his date. Just because this party was outside Hemlock Grove city limits didn’t mean that Roman’s name didn’t have any lore or pull to it. You were sure everyone in the state, hell maybe the country, would stop what they were doing to follow him through a room. He had an incredibly commanding presence, something that you once loved, but now just resented.

“Is that Roman Godfrey?” the guy you had been chatting up asked.

He was good looking, this random man. Charming, always willing to refill your cup or dance when a song you liked came on. He laughed at your jokes and kept his eyes from wandering to any of the other girls that were in attendance, which was silly, but something you appreciated. You’d only met him a couple of hours ago, so any singular devotion he had to you was quite flattering. You were seriously considering taking his hand and asking him to join you in a room upstairs until Roman showed up and decided to steal his attention from you. This guy, this stupid guy who was the only guy in the party who you’d been attracted to even in the slightest, of course he would have a hard on for Roman and his family name.

“Who?” you asked with resentment, drinking more of the swilly beer in your cup.

“Who? Roman Godfrey? His family owns half the state! He’s like, a billionaire. How in the hell do you not know who he is?” he talks like an animated puppy about Roman, you can see as his eyes follow the taller man everywhere he goes in the room.

You refused to look at Roman yourself, you just stared up at your date (if you could even call him that). You focused on the bumping music as he continued to gush about Godfrey Industries and Roman’s family money. God, you bet this guy talked about Elon Musk like this too… and suddenly you felt so repulsed by him that your skin crawled at the thought of him touching you.

“You know what?” you cut him off from his rant, “I’m going to go out for a cigarette.”

“Oh, OK. Want me to come?” He asked.

“No, not particularly.” And you were sure he was scowling after you and calling you a bitch, but you didn’t care. You needed to get away from him, his Roman complex, and all other Roman related things.

You pushed your way through the throngs of people in the house to the back sliding door, where you exited to the pleasant gust of chilled air. It was a welcomed contrast on your skin after simmering inside with all it’s muggy body heat.

The house that was throwing the party was really nice, nicer than any house you’d be able to afford. There was a large inground pool, complete with water features and a conjoined hot tub; an outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven and fully stocked fridge; and some of the most beautiful landscaping you’d ever seen. It made you wonder who actually lived here. One of your coworkers had invited you along, and you had only shown up to have something to do on a Friday night. You saw her for around five minutes when you arrived, then you’d both disappeared into the sea of people.

You went over to the kitchen and took a seat on one of the built in benches. It was carved into the brick next to the pizza oven, and even though the oven was off, you could still feel some heat emanating from it. You pulled your knees to your chest and settled against the brick, temple to the oven as you enjoyed the silence the night had to offer. You took out your phone from your jeans and began to app surf, switching between social medias to keep your mind busy.

“Now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here, all by her lonesome?” you could see the smarmy grin on his face without even looking up.

A part of you had futilely hoped that escaping outside would have thrown Roman off your scent. You’d up and completely left parties when he had arrived in the past, so you hoped he would have assumed that was the case tonight. But then again if he had, he wouldn’t be Roman. Because he seemed to have a tracking device on you, always aware of your whereabouts. It used to be helpful, but now it just pissed you off.

“You’re such a little stalker, you know that right?” you sneer, refusing to look up from your phone.

“Pretty sure you’re the stalker, (Y/L/N). Somehow wherever I go,” He trails off as he came to sit next to you, far too close for comfort, “There you are.”

“Whatever, Roman.” you reply, eyes still glued to your phone as you huddled closer to the oven.

“What? No snarky retort? No adamant denial? Man, someone’s gone soft,” he chuckles.

“Or maybe I’m just sick of this little game you’ve roped me into,” you bit back, and you could see in your periphery that his smile grew.

“You love it.”

“No, you love it. It’s why you never fucking leave me alone.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t say anything else. There is a long beat of silence where the two of you just listen to each other's breaths, of the sound of the others clothing scraping against the brick and the sound of your deft fingers against your screen.

It reminded you of when you were together, of when you had been the perky girl under his arm and the one enthralled by his presence. It reminded you of the late nights he’d shatter your body with pleasure and put you back together again. It reminded you of the times that he'd lay on your chest and murmur secrets and confessions with tears streaking his alabaster cheeks. It reminded you of the ever present smile he brought out in you.

It reminded you of Roman’s refusal to admit any true feelings for you. It reminded you of tense silence after fights. It reminded you of how he broke your heart.

“That guy you were talking to? Tried to shake my hand,” Roman chuckles, “Fucking freak.”

“Yeah, that’s why I ditched him. He probably liked you more than you like you.”

Roman snorts, “He was practically humping my leg.”

“Yeah, well he was practically humping mine before you showed up. So thanks for that.” you said bitterly, finally pocketing your phone and looking out over the groomed backyard.

“He wouldn’t have known what to do with a woman like you.”

“I would have liked to figure that out on my own upstairs, thank you very much.” you cross your arms over your folded knees.

“C’mon, that guy? I could smell his drug store cologne from a mile away, and that fucking geled hair? You chose that guy?” you could easily detect the envy in his voice.

“C’mon, that girl? With fake tits up to her chin and boxed dyed roots?” you shot back fast, and then immediately cursed yourself.

Because you had just played into his game, the one you had been trying for the past few months to eject yourself from.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” he drawls, leaning back against the bench.

“If you’re into that 80’s fake Sports Illustrated look.”

“She fucks like she’s straight out of Hustler.”

“Thanks for oversharing, Roman. Though that information feels a little more suited for Peter than me.” you said sarcastically, hoping with every passing second that he would get the hint and leave you alone.

But he never did. Not tonight, not last time and you were sure he never would.

“You used to love when I overshared. You said it made you feel closer to me,” he nudged you with his shoulder and you felt sick.

Because yes, you had said that. You had loved when he told you everything. When he didn’t hold back on his thoughts and feelings, and told you things that were sometimes so ugly he’d retch.

“You’re such a dick,” you swore, and finally stood to escape him.

“Oh, don’t be like that! Sit back down.” Roman reached out to take a hold of your wrist, but you flinched away at his touch.

“Leave me alone.”

“Sit back down and maybe I’ll think about it,” he laughs while trying to grab you again.

“How long are you going to do this to me, Roman? How much longer are you going to torment me!” you snap.

You look down at him for the first time all night. You had been avoiding direct eye contact since he followed you outside, afraid of what those sinful green eyes could get you to do. You’d backslid with Roman one to many times because of those fucking eyes.

“Torment you? That seems a bit rash,” he scoffs.

“I don’t think it is, I actually think it lets you off too easy.”

“Yeah?” he replies, fully condescending and pompous.

“Yeah,” you clench your jaw, “because it’s like you’re haunting me, it's like you’re this looming force that will never let me move on. And for the life of me Roman, I can’t fucking figure out why. Is it just to torture me for leaving? Are you that much of a spoiled brat? That once the toy you didn’t want gets thrown out you through a tantrum until it’s back?”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you! I’m so sick of this, Roman. I’m sick of being at a party or a restaurant or a coffee shop and then having you appear out of thin air to remind me of how much it all just hurts. Do you even care? Do you even care that everytime I see you it takes off a year of my life from pure grief?”

Because it did. Everytime you spotted him in line behind you, at a table across the room or drinking at a bar you were sat at, you felt awful. You felt so disgusting and used and dirty, because you let Roman take and take from you and when you asked for something in return he refused to give.

“Am I not allowed to see a friend all of a sudden?” he asks, his tone becoming defensive and worried.

“We’re not friends. We aren’t. I loved you and you spat in my face. I could never be friends with you again, Roman.”

Roman purses his lips and looks up at you under his brow before pushing up from the bench to stand, “You don’t love me anymore?”

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does. It does to me.” he steps closer to you with every word and you finally feel the effects of the alcohol you’d had earlier.

“Well it doesn’t to me, and it shouldn’t to you either. It didn’t then.”

It didn’t matter to him when he screamed and laughed in your face after your confession.

Roman doesn’t respond, even though you can tell he wants to. He towers above you now, but you don’t cower under his height.

You watch Roman chew on the inside of his cheek for a few moments before you know the conversation is over.

“I’m gonna go.”

You turned back toward the house and started your trek across the grass.

“Wait!” Roman suddenly called behind you.

You didn’t want to turn, and maybe if you were stronger you would have kept walking. But you did and you weren’t.

“What?” you ask with a frustrated sigh.

“I do, y’know,” he says, his posture hunched and uncomfortable, “I mean, as much as I can feel that way about anyone.”

“Love me?” you shot back, saying the words he was too cowardly too.

Roman looks around like he’s embarrassed, like he’s looking for any witnesses that might find out he has a heart. Then he nods gently.

“As much as a person like me can. I don’t even know if I’m capable of... that’ing. To anyone.”

You knew this is an incredibly vulnerable moment for Roman. You knew from experience that this was as close as he had ever been to uttering those sacreded three words, as close as he had ever felt to feeling them. You knew that this should give you some solace, some closure in your ongoing battle of emotions with the tall boy. You should feel better. But you don’t.

Because it didn’t change the past, and only gave you worthless hope for some kind of future with the only man you’d ever loved.

“Ok.” was all you said in reply.

And Roman just nods again, though it’s clear that wasn’t the response he was looking for. You almost expected him to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just takes out a cigarette and lights it.

“I, uh, I’m still going to leave,” you say, rubbing your biceps awkwardly under Roman’s intense gaze, “I only really came here to get laid and that fell through, so…”

“Well, I could fix that, y’know?” Roman smirks before taking a drag, and suddenly any semblance of a moment being had was.

“I’ll pass,” you say and bid him a silent goodbye.

You walk across the grass, short and such a vibrant green, even in the winter. You wonder if Roman liked the landscaping and the pool and the kitchen like you did. You wondered if things were different, if you two would live in a house like this. You tried not to think too much about it, though.

When you were almost to the house, you heard Roman call out for you again.

You simply looked over your shoulder to see him leaning against a brick pillar, cigarette between his plush pink lips.

“I’ll see you soon.”

feedback is appreciated!! (:

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey reader insert #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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ichigo-daifuku · 3 years

Text

To Dye For

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Toya & Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family Genre: Gen, Angst, Canon Compliant, Random Encounters, Character Study Word Count: 1.6k | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Natsuo encounters a mysterious man in the hair care products aisle at the grocery store.

Warning: The following contains mild spoilers for the Endeavor Agency Arc and the Paranormal Liberation War Arc.

Natsuo stared at his reflection in the mirror and frowned.

As a college student, hustle and bustle filled his everyday life. He attended classes, studied diligently, moved from one deadline to another, and participated in extracurricular activities. It was a lot to get used to at first, but the newfound freedom he had was nothing short of amazing. He could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Natsuo had spare time, he would usually spend it going on dates with his girlfriend or visiting Rei at the hospital together with Fuyumi. As of late, however, he had little time to do either. School activities had caused his schedule to become more hectic. The upcoming final exams would signal the end of the academic year, and Natsuo had a lot of tasks to accomplish in preparation for them.

He had been so preoccupied with his responsibilities that before he knew it, the streaks at the sides of his hair had grown crimson.

Growing up, Natsuo detested the crimson strands on his head. He didn’t mind how they stood out against his predominantly white hair at first, but as his hatred for his father grew, the sentiment spread to the biological traits he inherited from him. He loathed how those crimson streaks were the same shade as his father’s. In time, Natsuo despised how their resemblance was uncanny. People had always pointed out how his face and frame looked like a younger version of Enji. It was one of his pet peeves.

Natsuo would never forget how, for a long while, he was prohibited from visiting his mother at the hospital because she couldn’t bear to see him. He reminded her too much of Enji, even though his father was as good as a stranger to him. Natsuo wasn’t like him at all, but even if that was the truth, his physical appearance alone was an undeniable indication that he was his son.

When he was in his early teens, he started bleaching and dyeing the six streaks of his hair white. He had a way to lessen his likeness to his father, and he took the opportunity to do so. Now, truth be told, Natsuo had come to the point where he was unused to seeing his crimson hair. It was an odd feeling, but he had learned to live with it.

In retrospect, he should’ve requested a touch-up last week when he went for a haircut at the barbershop, but he had been in a rush. He disliked freeloaders and didn’t want to be one, so he prioritized attending the group meeting he had instead. With a sigh, he shook his head but didn’t regret his choice. He considered dropping by the barbershop again but thought otherwise. He could do it by himself. It had been a while since he had done the bleaching process on his own, but it was simple enough. He could do it.

Natsuo slipped his navy blue coat on and went on his way to the grocery store near his dormitory. The winter chill felt soothing and nice against his skin. It eased his mind and relieved the stress he was under, and he felt glad he decided to go out today.

At the grocery store, he proceeded to the aisle of hair care products and grabbed his favorite brand of hair bleach kit. He hummed to the tune of the music playing through the speakers and looked around, wondering if the hair bleach kit would suffice since he had the other products he needed in the dormitory. Now that he thought about it, he could do some grocery shopping as well. He should get a shopping cart.

A fellow customer entered the area he was standing on. The lanky man wore a hooded jacket that covered the majority of his face. He had his hands inside his pockets as he browsed the shelves.

The man seemed to be someone around Natsuo’s age, more or less. Natsuo was taller than him but granted, he was taller and burlier than most of his peers. He wondered if he was also a college student like him and, if so, if he attended the same institution he did. Natsuo attempted to catch a glimpse of the man’s face but failed. The stranger wore sunglasses, obscuring his features even further, except for the ebony hair hanging across his forehead. Although uncertain, Natsuo considered the possibility of this stranger’s covered-up attire being connected to his Quirk.

With a gloved hand, the man picked up a box of black hair dye and read the description on the packaging.

Oh, no, Natsuo thought, Anything but that one.

“Hey, man,” Natsuo called, approaching the stranger in a friendly manner. “I wouldn’t recommend that brand. The quality isn’t very good.”

The man stiffened but, nevertheless, replied, “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I used that brand when I dyed my hair blond when I was younger, and it completely faded after a few washes.”

“Why?”

“Well, as I said, the quality is—”

“Not that,” the man interjected, not bothering to face Natsuo fully, “Why would you dye your hair blond?”

“Ah, well… to piss my old man off,” Natsuo admitted.

“Why?”

“He has this… rivalry with a certain blond man, so he hates him. I thought it would irritate him.”

Natsuo was oversharing, and he knew it. His hand came up to rub the nape of his neck as he chuckled in mild embarrassment. He had nothing to be embarrassed about when he was just answering the man’s question, right?

To his surprise, the man probed, curious about his story, “And? Did it do the trick?”

“Nah.” Natsuo shook his head. “He just glared at me for a bit and went back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The man let out a humorless chuckle. “Figures.”

Looking back, Natsuo realized how petty of a prank that was. Of course, the man would think so, too. “Yeah.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The man shifted his head to look at Natsuo.

Natsuo was unable to see the man’s face due to his sunglasses, but he could feel his eyes as they traveled from the hair bleach kit in his hand and then to his hair.

The stranger’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh. He turned away and placed the low-quality hair dye back on the shelf.

Natsuo scanned the items near him and pointed to a certain section. “If you’d like a really good hair dye, this is the brand I’d recommend.”

“There’s no need.” At a leisurely pace, the man turned around and made his way to the shelf across them, grabbing a medium-sized bottle.

Hair dye remover, Natsuo noted, which made no sense to him. Wasn’t he looking for hair dye?

The man inspected the item in his hand and put it inside his pocket.

Natsuo’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him. “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

Ignoring his question, the man stepped closer to Natsuo, and with amusement laced in his voice, spoke, “Make sure to watch the news, okay?”

Natsuo froze. Why did this person seem almost… familiar?

“See you around,” the man said and walked away, “Todoroki Natsuo.”

Alarm bells rang inside Natsuo’s head. This stranger called him by his full name. He had never introduced himself nor was he wearing anything that would give away his identity.

The second Natsuo was able to collect his thoughts and get over his initial panic, he ran after the man to question him, but he was nowhere to be found. The security alarms didn’t go off despite the man stealing something from the grocery store, his escape successful.

Natsuo reported the shoplifting incident to a staff member. Since the man’s physical appearance was too obscured, the authorities had very little clue to his identity. They recorded the theft but could do nothing much about it, ultimately deciding to watch out for similar incidents from now on. When they asked Natsuo if there was anything else he had to say, Natsuo contemplated it but chose not to inform the authorities of the fact that the man knew his identity and was, most likely, after him.

On his way back to the dormitory, Natsuo clutched the handle of the paper bag of hair products in his fist, wary of his surroundings. He couldn’t help it. Having been targeted and attacked by a villain in the past, he had to stay vigilant. Moreover, why did that person tell him to watch the news? The crime he committed was theft—a petty one at that—and would hardly be worth a headline.

Still, it worried Natsuo. He sent Fuyumi a message subtly informing her of his whereabouts in case something happens to him. Not wanting to cause her unnecessary panic, he decided to leave out the details of the encounter he had at the grocery store. He’d tell her later, but for now, he reminded her to take care of herself. Shoto was at U.A., at least, he would be fine there. Rei would be safe at the hospital while Endeavor could handle himself.

Natsuo boarded the train and sat down. He set his elbows on his knees and shut his eyes, the pads of the fingertips of his right hand gently touching their counterparts on his left as he leaned forward and bowed his head, lost in thought.

Who was that man?

The question plagued his mind for a long time but held no answer.

Notes: This was supposed to be a humorous fic… but here we are.

When I was writing this story, I thought a lot about that panel in Chapter 302 where Rei said she “started seeing hints of [Enji] in the children’s faces,” and while Shoto’s left side was shown, Natsuo’s entire face was beside him.

I hope you’re all enjoying Season 5 so far. Thank you for reading! ♡

BNHA Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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masonscig · 4 years

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attached series | part two: envy

pairing | mason x detective x felix [detective sofía olmos]

word count | 3.8k

tags | @choicesarehard ; @pixelsandkink ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @messofakind ; @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy ; @cellophanesheep ; @senatorraines ; @beccadavenport ; @wayhavenschronicles ; @hudush ; @pumpkinpeng ; @knightava ; @thebobbyfish ; @agentnate ; @admdmrtn ; @losingface (lmk if you want to be removed)

author’s note | omg i can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me that people liked the first part, as bare bones as it was since i didn’t really have an idea then but i definitely do now! i’m obsessed with writing felix AND mason so this has been soooo much fun. thank you if you’ve read this !!!! i hope you enjoy it :)

read on ao3

•─────────────────•

He strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets to give the illusion that he didn’t give a shit, when he was most definitely on edge. His fingers flicked his lighter open and closed against the twill lining of his pockets, trying to focus on the soft clicking noise it made instead of the swarm of thoughts clouding his conscience.

He still couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

So what, she didn’t try to contact him the past week? He didn’t give a shit. He had bigger things to worry about.

Like his job. And the next piece of ass he was going to conquer.

He had an ample selection of people to choose from, inside the Agency and outside of it. All he had to do was pick his target, turn on a bit of his whorish charm, and – nine times out of ten – they were putty in his hands.

It was baffling to him that since meeting her, when he caught someone staring at him, the familiar glimmer of hunger in their eyes, he felt nothing.

Sofía had burrowed her way into his subconscious and wouldn’t get the fuck out no matter how many distractions he created for himself.

He rounded the corner, picking up speed to push through the large wooden door leading to the meeting area.

Despite everything, his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing her again. Not that he’d admit it, but he was… mildly excited.

––––

He plopped onto the cushiony sofa, swivelling so that he could lay back and prop his legs up on the arm rest, folding his arms behind his head.

“Am I doing the Ferris Bueller pose right?” He grinned, wiggling his ankles.

Nate sighed, pointing to his feet.

“Yeah, aren’t my new sneakers sick? I wanted the Marty McFly shoes but they were so expensive so Sofia helped me pick a knock off instead,” he beamed, extending his leg towards Nate. “Wanna touch ‘em?”

“Please get your feet off the couch, Felix,” he commanded gently, licking the tip of his finger to flip the worn page of his dense book.

“Awe, you’re no fun. If I put my feet on the ground, who’s gonna see ‘em?”

“This isn’t show-and-tell, Felix. This meeting has a purpose,” Adam said from the corner of the room, standing rigid against the wall.

“Every meeting is show-and-tell if you have something new, like my shoes,” he wiggled his brows, leaning forward to untie and retie his shoes for the hundredth time, trying to get the loops just right.

“Seems like you had a good time with Sofía yesterday,” Nate murmured, glancing over the cover of his book, a soft smile on his lips.

Felix’s grin stretched wider at the mention of the detective’s name.

He’d had more than a good time with Sofía at the mall. He’d had the best time.

They’d spent nearly the whole week together, binge watching films to cheer her up. He didn’t really have the attention span to watch movies, but sharing a blanket with her, fingers grazing when they both went for the kettle corn at the same time… it was straight out of a rom-com.

He didn’t really get the hype of kettle corn, but people were supposed to eat it to enjoy movies more… right? He could care less about how shitty it tasted as long as he could spend more time with her.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with me like… this for the past few days, but I really appreciate it,” she smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got to make it up to you somehow.”

“Hmm,” he mused, screwing his lips to the side of his face. “Nope. I’m just happy we’ve gotten to hang out. You’re always so busy!”

“You say that like you’re not a whole ass supernatural being that works for a secret agency,” she raised a brow at him, the smile still tugging at her lips.

“Touche, touche. I’ll give you that, human,” he said, pushing his brows together like he was trying to sound commanding.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that ‘human’ talk. You know you love our pop culture way too much to talk down to me like that,” she laughed, pretending to shove his shoulder.

“Yeah, I really do,” he laughed. “There’s so much I wanna do that I haven’t been able to with all of this ‘lay low’ shit. Sometimes it makes me wish I had a past human life I could remember like Nate or Adam, ya know?” He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, when it clearly was something that passed through his mind often.

She shifted on the couch, looking a little uncomfortable. Oh no, he thought. I should’ve just kept that in. There I go again, oversharing when I don’t even know if she cares –

“Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”

“Huh?” His focus was torn away from overthinking.

“If you’ve got a bucket list, I can try to help you check some things off,” she shrugged, tossing a few pieces of kettle corn into her mouth, crunching softly.

“What’s that?”

“Like, a list of things you wanna do before you die. Things you wanna do before you kick the bucket.”

“Well…” Felix trailed off, shrugging. “I don’t know why I’d kick a bucket, but I’m not dying anytime soon… or ever.”

Sofía snorted, the sound reverberating off of her apartment walls. “That’s an idiom, Felix.”

“Hey, you don’t have to call me names,” he pouted, brows furrowed.

An even louder laugh ripped from Sofía, her chest heaving as she cackled. “Felix – Felix, please –” She wiped the tears from her eyes, barely able to catch her breath.

He was a little upset at that.

He didn’t have a chance to learn all the stuff he wanted about humans. Nate really only taught him what he thought was important for Felix to know – boring things, like literature and etiquette.

She must’ve noticed him frowning, because her laughter tapered off, looking guilty as soon as she realized he didn’t get it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just messing with you. You’re the funniest guy I know, seriously. And you don’t even try.”

A smile bloomed across his features, a warmth blanketing him, so comforting that he didn’t think the crisp fall wind could make him shiver.

She thought he was funny. The one thing he was good at without being taught.

“Thanks,” he murmured, looking away from her. Did he sense a blush coming on? Wow, that’s a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. But maybe not as of recently, since his cheeks burned around her way more than he’d like to admit.

“Well,” he said, after a brief silence. “I don’t really know where to start.”

She pushed her brows together, her glasses sliding down her nose, which she pushed back in place with a finger. “Hmm… is there anything from the movies we watched that excited you?”

He flipped through images in his brain, trying to pin down things he was drawn to from the movies they’d binged. His eyes lit up the moment he settled on an idea.

“I wanna go to the mall, you know, like in Chopping Mall, except we don’t get killed. I’ve never been to one before.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You’ve never been? Like… ever?”

He shrugged. “I kinda had to stay inside until I learned, uh, what are they called?” He snapped his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut while he racked his brain for the phrase he couldn’t recall. “Social cues! Yeah I was terrible at that at the beginning. Couldn’t go two seconds without bringing up home and the fact that I’m… ya know.” He gestured to himself.

“A vampire?”

“I was gonna say devastatingly handsome, but that fits too,” he grinned as she playfully threw a piece of kettle corn at him.

His smile fell a bit. “I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

“You’ve got forever, right?” She asked hopefully.

He sighed. “Yeah, but when you’ve already missed so much of human history you kinda want to learn more. Nate and Adam and even Mason have cool stories that I can’t even compare to. I want that.”

He pretended not to see her flinch slightly at the mention of Mason. God, Felix, your one job was to distract her. Good work.

“Well, we’re just gonna have to make our own history, huh?” She said softly, gently placing her hand on his arm, a sweet smile on her face.

She was beautiful. He’d seen the movies – he knew exactly how he was supposed to feel when he saw the person he wanted. And for him, when he looked at her, the fireworks were firing off in the background.

He barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch her face. Just barely.

When they finally made it to the mall in the city, after pulling a Ferris Beullers’ (they lied to say they were going downtown to patrol when they were ditching), Felix practically skipped up and down the waxed linoleum flooring, in awe, like a child in a candy shop.

With comically large eyes, face pressed up against the window, he spotted the Marty McFly-esque sneakers and dragged Sofía inside.

So, the shoes meant a lot to him. A symbol of his favorite day in Wayhaven – well, technically outside of Wayhaven, but Adam didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah. I had a great time patrolling.”

––––

Mason pushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the rest of the team’s presence as he retreated to his usual corner, next to a one person armchair.

He tried drowning out Felix and Nate’s incessant chattering, the noise nagging at him like a toothache.

His hand reflexively reached for his back pocket, nearly about to grab a cigarette from the pack. Much to his annoyance, he was reminded that he’d left them in his room, since she was going to be there.

He settled for flicking the lighter again, lips curling into a sneer every time Felix laughed a little too loud.

His senses were suffering. His head was getting cloudier and cloudier with each passing second.

When the fuck was she gonna show?

Before he could leave to retrieve his cigarettes, Sofía shouldered her way through the heavy door, struggling a little beneath the weight, her bangs falling in front of her glasses.

She looked a little disheveled, like she’d just woken up, but not messy. She was well put together all the time, like every single item she wore was meticulously chosen; she made it look effortless, nevertheless.

It always made him proud of how quickly he could turn her into a writhing mess, and that he was the only one that saw that side of her.

He bit back a smirk, shifting his weight so his hip propped up against the arm of the chair, expecting her to plop next to him.

So when her hazel eyes focused on Felix first, he couldn’t help but grimace.

Her face lit up, and she rushed over to the sofa, passing Mason and Nate, while keeping her attention focused solely on Felix.

“You wore the shoes!” She grinned, dropping her bag on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m just breaking them in,” he said, wiggling his feet, still splayed out on the couch.

She plopped onto his legs, making Felix laugh out loud. “Hey! Didn’t you tell me not to crease them?”

“Scoot over and I won’t,” she giggled as he lifted his legs dramatically one by one, grazing them over her ducked head.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her face. She was so… happy. A complete 180 from earlier that week. Not that he expected her to come in a blubbering mess but… something wasn’t right.

Since when did those two get so damn close?

The ache in his head dulled, his senses more manageable from the moment she walked in.

“Hey Nate. Adam. Mason,” she said, waving generally. To any other person who didn’t know Sofía, they’d think she was being friendly. But the millisecond of a pause before she said his name proved she was still upset with him.

Felix leaned in to say something, eyes wide with a grin to match, invading personal space like he normally did. It wouldn’t have bothered Mason, if he hadn’t noticed one thing.

Her heartbeat sped up.

––––

He slid his bookmark into the crease, carefully closing the book. He’d heard Rebecca drive up, so she’d walk in any second now.

Where Nate sat on the love seat in between Felix, Sofía and Mason, he could sense the tension hanging in the air like a shroud smoke.

Mason was nearly seething in his corner, eyes locked on Felix and Sofía like a cat with its back arched, visibly frustrated. Felix was either willfully or blissfully ignorant of Mason’s energy, while Sofía was wrapped in her own bubble with him, quiet laughs exchanged in the tiny space between them, the occasional word echoing off the brick walls.

Adam could tell, too. A single glance exchanged between them proved they both knew something was wrong.

Rebecca pushed her way through the door, quickly surveying the group before addressing everyone and moving on to explain their assignment.

“We’ve heard rumors of something lurking on the outskirts of Wayhaven, right at the edge of the town’s limits. Over the next week, you’ll need to split and patrol to confirm if it’s petty gossip, or something more.”

As soon as the last word was out of Rebecca’s mouth, Mason stormed towards the door, opening it with such force that it smacked the wall, cracking the wood, splintering against the brick.

Sofía flinched, eyes wide. Her posture deflated, like she was finally in a good mood that was ruined by Mason’s explosive behavior.

Nate grimaced, sensing the atmosphere shift from tense to dismal. Even Felix’s smile had faltered as he stared at the doorway Mason exited through.

Sofía’s pulse raced as she stared at her lap, absentmindedly twisting her rings around her fingers.

Rebecca sighed, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. “Sofía will need someone to accompany her, but the rest of you should be prepared to defend yourselves if needed.

“This is a relatively laid back assignment compared to what you’re used to, but I don’t want you to let your guards down. As we’ve seen before, anything can happen. You need to be prepared for the worst. Are there any questions?”

“Who’s going with Sofía?” Felix blurted, glancing back and forth between her and Rebecca.

“I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves,” she gestured at the remaining Unit Bravo members. “However, Sofía has the last word.”

In her own way, Rebecca was extending an olive branch, as miniscule as it was. Sofía hadn’t warmed up to her quite yet, but Nate was anxiously hoping he’d see their relationship blossom in his lifetime.

Rebecca glanced at Sofía, who was still wringing her hands together, half paying attention.

“Keep me updated,” she nodded curtly, glancing back and forth from Nate and Adam once.

“Of course, Agent Olmos,” Adam said, tipping his chin at her respectfully. As soon as Rebecca was out of the room, Sofía rose from her spot on the sofa.

“I… I have to get back to the station. I’ll get in touch with you after I’m off,” she murmured distractedly, tossing her bag over her shoulder and exiting before they could respond.

“I’ll go with Sofía,” Felix volunteered. “She’ll need someone to cheer her up while she’s out there.” He was clearly upset with how things played out, and Nate knew he needed to physically be there for her to comfort her – that’s the way he’d always been.

“I suppose,” Adam mused, rubbing a thoughtful hand against his chin. “We’ll be close by in case you need anything from us.”

“Watch out for her,” Nate warned gently, nodding towards Felix. “Adam and I will take the West and East borders of Wayhaven. You can take the South, near the entrance.”

“And Mason?” Felix asked, looking like he didn’t want to know the answer.

“He’ll take the North border. Alone,” Nate nodded. “I won’t tell him that you’re with her.”

Adam squinted. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t let it slip if he asks me.”

“Adam,” Nate sighed.

“I refuse to lie. If Mason asks me directly, I will let him know. Otherwise, you’re in the clear.”

Felix grimaced, pinching the strings at the hem of his scarf between his fingers, tugging at them absentmindedly. “Guess I gotta hope I’m lucky.”

Adam snorted. “Luck won’t help us if Mason finds out we kept this from him.”

––––

Sofía jogged down the hallway, shoving out the double doors towards her car.

Mason stood next to it, puffing a cigarette, arms crossed, looking absolutely volatile. Smoke curled around him like a warning sign, like his boiling blood was pushing steam out of his body. Don’t come closer, it said. She did anyway.

“What are you doing out here?” She sighed, shifting her purse on her shoulder, keys in hand. She’d slowed a few feet away from him, his back turned to her.

He didn’t answer her, nor look at her, eyes transfixed on the swaying trees on the edge of the woods.

“I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to the station.” She walked around him, refusing to look at his face, reaching out for the handle.

“You seemed to have a lot of time to waste back there,” he growled, stopping her in her tracks.

“Seriously?” She turned towards him, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not gonna spell it out for you, sweetheart,” he mumbled around the cigarette, pinched between his lips, set in a thin line.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? And back there, too, in front of everybody. What’s your problem?” She asked, craning her neck forward.

“You could’ve at least tried to keep that shit to a bare minimum in a meeting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You’re not dumb, detective,” he enunciated each syllable of her title, like it was an insult.

“Since when do you care about being ‘respectful’ in meetings?” She air quoted around the word, keys jangling from where they hung off of her thumb.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you berating me right now, when I don’t even know what you think I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, insufferably, shrugging like he wasn’t making her crazy. God, Sofía normally wasn’t an angry type – but she was stubborn, and Mason knew exactly how to push her buttons. “Then why are you acting like a fucking child?” She asked, voice raised. Guilt set in after she heard her voice echo around her. Maybe it wasn’t the best move to argue with Mason when all of Unit Bravo could hear. He was silent. He took long, deep drags from the cigarette, pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. He let the smoke seep out his nose slowly, clouding his features. He inhaled one last time, flicking the bud onto the ground before he smashed it beneath his boot. He met her eyes, the grey of his iris nearly swirling like the stormy, tornadic clouds.

“Your heartbeat.”

He said it so low that she could barely understand it herself. Maybe he didn’t want the team to hear. Didn’t want Felix to hear.

“I literally can’t control my heartbeat, Mason.”

“It spiked… around him.” His eyes flickered away from her, towards the trees again.

“That’s what you’re mad about?” She huffed in disbelief.

Silence. “Well, can you stop acting like that? I’m not yours. You made that clear last week,” she rolled her eyes, unlocking her car, opening the door.

“Acting like what?” He challenged, nearly growling. He’d completely ignored anything beyond the initial question.

“Like you’re jealous,” she nearly spat, tongue flicking as she enunciated each word.

“I’m not fucking jealous.” His nose scrunched like he was holding back a snarl.

“Yeah, well your tantrum says otherwise. Stop acting like a baby. You’re too old for this.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back, letting her slam her door. He turned and walked in without another glance.

She revved the engine and peeled away from the warehouse, expecting to feel a sense of triumph in having the last word, but nothing came. Just emptiness.

––––

A growl ripped from Mason as he paced around his room towards the door, dragging his laundry basket behind him.

For the millionth time, Felix tried pawning his responsibility off onto Mason by planting his harder to wash items at the bottom of his basket.

He didn’t want to learn how to wash a beanie or a scarf, so he pawned it off on the person down the hall.

Felix never pulled this shit with Nate, so why would he try it with Mason? It was beyond him.

Laundry basket grating on the ground behind him, sending electric shocks up his spine at the volume, Mason gritted his teeth, ready to fling his basket at Felix’s door, fully prepared for the plastic to shatter and rip into their clothes. But it was worth it.

Instead, he found the door ajar, the sickeningly bright tones of Felix’s room instantly giving him a headache.

Ugh. What the fuck was so great about the color yellow?

Adam had warned all of them to passcode lock their doors behind him no matter what, since they clearly only relied on themselves for security, being that their home base was in the center of the woods.

Mason dug through the basket, flinging shit into the room, strewing the bright socks, beanies, t-shirts, and scarves across the floor.

He still had a bone to pick with Felix, but at least he got most of his anger out of his system.

Right as he was about to leave, something next to the entrance of his room caught his attention.

The shoes Sofía bought Felix.

Crisp, clean, and begging to be tampered with.

He didn’t mull over the decision for long, grabbing the shoes by their laces and chunking them into his basket, covering them with a pair of jeans.

He grabbed the basket with the tips of his fingers, hoisting it over his back, strolling back towards his room with a slight pep in his step.

––––

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #felix hauville #agent m #agent f #twc fics #detective sofía olmos #hope yall enjoy part 2 !!!#pls lmk if u wanna be tagged/removed #my fic

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delimeful · 5 years

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watch it burn and rust (3)

warnings: panic, fear, guilt, blood mention, miscommunication

Chapter 3

They stayed like that, curled up against the wall in an almost-hug, for what seemed like hours. Patton was too blissed out to worry about being overbearing, a low purr curling from his throat, and so the cuddling continued until Virgil’s hand slid off his back.

He peered up, curious, and was alarmed to see that the Human’s eyes were closed, his body gone limp. Panic rushed through him; had Virgil had some kind of negative reaction? No Ampen had done this to a Human and lived before!

He hesitated, and then stretched up and patted at Virgil’s cheeks, careful not to poke too hard. For creatures that could survive near anything, Humans were so soft.

“Virgil. Virgil!” He called, the name twisting oddly in his mouth. “Wake up!”

“Patt’n?” His Human mumbled, turning his head away from the insistent pats. His eyelids kept drooping, even as he struggled to stay awake, eyes darting around. “Danger?”

“No… but, are you okay?” Patton pressed his ear to Virgil, hearing a concerningly small number of heartbeats. “Sick?”

Virgil quirked the ends of his lips. “No. Rest. Sleep. It’s okay.”

He leaned his head back again, curling his arms a little more around Patton as he fell back to sleep. Sleepiness wasn’t a common reaction, but it wasn’t really dangerous. He still worried, but supposed that Virgil would know his own limits best. Even so, he kept the flow of energy cut off as he sank into a content sleep himself.

He got more worried after Virgil ended up asleep for way longer than normal, but once the Human finally woke up, he didn’t seem all that concerned.

“Patton?” He asked, staring across the room where Patton was sitting, antennae flat against his skull. “Okay?”

“No.” Patton answered miserably in Common, and Virgil straightened, scanning the room. “I’m sorry… You were asleep for so long because of me.”

“Um… sleep okay?” Virgil responded, uncertain. “No bad.”

Patton shook his head, willing the Human to understand. “My fault. I stole energy from you. I’m sorry, Virgil.”

There was a pause while Virgil mouthed a few of the words, before the sentence seemed to click. “Ah! Ampen, yeah? Sick?”

Patton blinked. Virgil… knew about his species already?

“No hurt. Sleep. Okay, to…” Virgil’s eyes flicked back and forth, as though searching for a word. “Help! Okay to help you. Sleep okay.”

He did that lip curl again, eyes creasing slightly, and Patton was overcome with gratitude and fondness. He choked out a stifled half-sob of relief, and the expression dropped off Virgil’s face.

“Sorry, sorry-“ Virgil frantically tried the soothing Ampen call, and Patton shook his head again, scrambling back over to the Human’s space. He grabbed Virgil’s shaky hand, looking up at his strange brown eyes earnestly.

“I’m happy. You’re very kind, Virgil.”

Near-instantly, Virgil’s face changed to that blazing red-pink, and he ducked his head. “No, no.”

“Yes, yes!” Patton crowed back, struck with the delightful revelation that the red expression meant embarrassment. “You are kind and nice and soft, and you- you helped me.” His voice cracked. “You helped me. Thank you.”

“You… help, too.” Virgil muttered, chin still tucked against his chest. “Before you come, no talk… Human, Ampen, guard. No talk. No help. No...” He touched Patton’s hand, feather-light.

His hearts ached. “We help each other now. Yeah?”

Virgil did the half-smile. “Yeah.”

—-

Things after that settled into a sort of rhythm.

His corner long abandoned, Patton found comfort in just laying next to Virgil, who never seemed bothered at all by the companionship. It was nice, knowing that there was someone on this ship that actually cared about him. The fact that that someone just so happened to be a Human was just a hilarious and reassuring bonus.

Whenever they were both awake, they practiced speaking. Virgil was a quick learner, now that he was actually being taught, rather than puzzling out bits and pieces of the language himself. He often asked about what the word was like in Patton’s home language as well, doing his best to mimic the sounds despite his vocal chords not being built for such things. Patton was touched, and over time, picked up a few Human words as well.

They talked for hours, until one of them (generally Virgil) got tired, and as Virgil’s sentences became smoother, fuller, Patton learned more and more about Humans, or at least his Human. They only had one heart, though it was huge compared to all seven of Patton’s. The teeth-baring and lip-curling was the Human version of a smile, and they had no antennae or feathers or fur for warmth, other than the hair on their head. Virgil’s was a faded purple, and it didn’t change unless he dyed it with chemicals from his home.

Virgil spoke about home a lot. He made it sound a lot less threatening than Patton suspected it really was, but it was clear that the Human missed it. He’d never gotten to see the surface of other worlds, being abducted and trapped from his first moment in space. For Patton, who had known since a young age that he wanted to wander the galaxy, it was a hard concept to grasp.

In return, he shared details about his home, local phrases in his own language, the children he often watched while visiting. He was hesitant at first, worried about oversharing, but Virgil soaked the stories up like a sponge, asking his own questions at the end. It sort of reminded Patton of Logan, and he felt a pang at the thought of his friend, who would surely be delighted at all the new information about a mysterious and difficult to study species like Humans.

Patton didn’t talk about them, keeping all those thoughts tucked deep inside his chest. In some small way, he still hoped that they’d find him, that Virgil could meet them properly and get to know them firsthand.

Every time the guards came to retrieve Virgil, though, his hope was tested. The Human always put up a cursory fight, thrashed and struggled if it seemed like the smugglers were going to look in the corner where Patton was hidden, seemingly uncaring of the paralyzing shocks he received in return. It made him shake with rage and upset on Virgil’s behalf.

He came back weak and sometimes ill, and never volunteered any information about where he was taken. Patton silently wondered what in the world they could be taking from a Human, but never asked, only curling up with him and comforting him with their familiar tune.

It was a bit after such a time that Virgil drew Patton’s attention to something he should have realized long before. His hand paused in its aimless petting, and he gently rubbed a thumb over something, making Patton shiver and look up in confusion.

“You have… um, sharp, small things.” He offered tentatively, staring at Patton’s back.

It took a long second to understand, and then Patton shuffled his shoulders, feeling out the follicles. His face lit up. “My pinfeathers!”

“Your what?” Virgil asked, brow still wrinkled in the Human expression for concern.

“Pinfeathers! They’re coming in, my feathers are growing back!” He tried to rattle the pinfeathers, but found they were still too short, barely emerged. Now that he knew, they itched like crazy. He resisted the urge to tug at them, knowing that splattering blood all over the cell was the last thing they needed.

“Good? Good!” Virgil encouraged, still a bit confused. “That not normal?”

Patton hesitated, the blind joy fading. “They… the smugglers took them from me. Most Ampens can’t grow them back in captivity. Can’t touch when trapped.” His were growing back, though.

They were going to tear all of them out again.

He didn’t realize he had voiced aloud until Virgil made a low, upset sound in his throat. It was more feral than most of the noises he made, and when Patton turned to look, the Human seemed furious. “No. No. They don’t touch you.”

Patton nodded, still a bit shaky. “Right. I’ll hide.”

“I’ll keep you safe. Promise.” Virgil said, calling on a Human oath word. Patton felt some of the terror rescind, burying his face into Virgil’s shirt. They’d be okay, he told himself resolutely.

And for a while, they were.

His pinfeathers continued to grow, bolstered by Virgil’s tendency to constantly have some part of him touching Patton, as though worried the Ampen would disappear if he lost contact. They traded histories, myths, and then songs, which made Virgil go that red-pink again but he shared the Human melodies despite his shyness. He talked about Human music with a desperate sort of longing, and Patton listened to his recreations with attentiveness, memorizing the notes.

He whistled them sometimes, after Virgil was thrown back into their cell, so long as his throat wasn’t too closed up to get the sound out. He tried not to let Virgil see how upset he was, since it made the Human upset as well, but every time he came back incoherent and in pain, Patton’s hearts broke a little more.

In contrast with the snarling visage that always greeted the guards, Virgil was exceedingly careful with Patton, especially after he mentioned that the pinfeathers could break and lead to excessive bleeding if he didn’t notice the break right away. It was endearing to watch him ghost his hands around as though Patton was made of glass, and then freak out when he absentmindedly brushed a hand over him and the pinfeather sheaths began to crumble right off.

After Patton managed to calm him down (and what an odd thought, him calming down a Human), he began the repetitive process of working the dried-up covers off his feathers, internally delighting every time one was fully revealed. He’d never been particularly vain about them, but after thinking he was going to die in their absence, he found himself relieved by their proper return.

Virgil watched him carefully even after being reassured that getting rid of the old pinfeathers was a normal part of the process, eyes intent in a way that Patton would have called predatory at the beginning of their relationship. He knew better now, and offered him a few of the more intact sheaths to sate his worry and curiosity.

Eventually, most of his feathers were free, finally regrown and fully-formed. He shook himself off, the last flakes of the pinfeathers falling from him, and fluffed up like a hatchling in his excitement.

“Look, look!” He circled Virgil joyfully, showing him the way the feathers glowed in the shadows. “Pretty cool, huh kiddo?”

“Very cool.” Virgil said, a small grin on his face. “Are they, um… broken easy?”

“Delicate?” Patton provided, and Virgil nodded. “No, they’re pretty strong! Here, feel.”

Virgil hesitated, going stiff, and Patton tilted his head with a worried warble, retracting his feathers slightly. “Virgil?”

“You… want me to touch?” He asked. “You sure?”

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I?”

There was a long moment of silence, and Virgil shifted awkwardly against the wall. “You said… before… Ampen need touch if they don’t have feathers. You have feathers now, so you don’t have to…” He hummed in frustration, trying to find the words. “...It’s okay if you want to not be touched. I won’t hurt you, or be mad. Promise.”

Understanding finally hit Patton, and guilt a moment later. Of course Virgil had noticed Patton’s skittish behavior when they were first stuck in here together, he noticed much more than he ever let on. He must have assumed that Patton’s mannerisms had only changed because he thought that was the only way to survive with a Human.

“Oh, Virgil… I don’t think you would hurt me.” Patton said, reaching out and patting his leg gently. “I was scared before because I didn’t know you. I only knew all the bad rumors I’d heard, and I let that cloud my opinion of you. We’re… I want to be your friend. You’re not a bad person, and I don’t think you’d ever hurt me, okay?”

Virgil seemed doubtful, searching his eyes for any sign of falsehoods, and slowly reached out, a silent question. Patton didn’t move or shy away from the touch, trying to convey that he really, truly trusted Virgil, that Virgil had earned that trust, not forced it.

He ran a hand along the smooth feathers on Patton’s right arm, and a small, genuine smile appeared. “They’re really cool, Pat. Thanks for… thanks.”

Patton beamed, puffing up with happiness, and threw himself at Virgil for a hug. The Human was big enough that his hugs were enveloping, but never overwhelming.

The feathers made cuddling positions slightly more limited, but they still fell asleep to the same comfort of each other’s presence. After all, there was no reason for things to change, right?

Until they woke up, and suddenly things weren’t okay anymore.

#sanders sides #g/t #giant/tiny #ts virgil #ts patton #space au #my writing #writing #wibar #watch it burn and rust #gonna adjust formatting for chapters #cliffhanger #>:)#taglists soon!

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Five (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: hello! we’re reaching the end, and as usual with me, the shit hits the fan with this chapter. i hope you enjoy! thanks to frey for aggressively cheerleading me and beta-ing this. sidebog is @chachkisalpaca !

The days go by in the blink of an eye.

Crystal texts Gigi every day, runs into her at the beaches more times that she could count, and her lips become sore from all the kissing and biting. She likes Gigi. She’s fun, laid back, and doesn’t tell Crystal her major in arts is useless, as she has no clue what she’s going to do with her fashion degree either.

Gigi tells her about her friends, how they tease her when she comes back home and how they’re dying to properly meet her. Maybe tomorrow, she always says. And Crystal tells her about her surfer friends —mostly Vanjie and April— but leaves Jaida out, because she’s a long story that she rather not unpack. Not with Gigi, at least.

Before they notice, it’s the night before the competition, and Monét and Monique organize a get together again — more chill, though. They decide to eat out at Sal’s Shack with the same people as previously, and for a moment it sounds like a good idea to Crystal.

Until she remembers the Brooke Lynn situation, and that Jaida will also be there. She prays to every God and every saint for the night to go smoothly, without any incidents.

Crystal puts on an orange dress that Vanessa deems hideous, but she likes it nonetheless. She likes to think she’s able to pull it off.

They have to join two tables and steal a few chairs to be able to fit in, but it’s still early and the place isn’t that crowded, so it doesn’t matter. Crystal sits next to Vanessa and April, and they quickly engage in a conversation in Spanish, mostly for April’s sake.

Brooke and Yvie are running late, because of course they are — they’ve never been early or on time for anything.

April makes a joke about this, with Plastique, who’s sitting in front of April, piping up and saying she sent her a text ten minutes ago that they were on their way. Crystal sighs under her breath when she sees Vanjie roll her eyes.

“I know, right?” Is all that she says, before going back to their previous topic. Crystal is surprised, but proud. It was about time.

Speaking of, Jaida is sitting in the row in front of her, talking with Monét and Monique, laughing and talking loudly to get a word in. Crystal feels the nostalgia hit her at moments, but then one of the girls tease her about Gigi and it goes away.

Though she’d known Gigi for a short time and were moving rather fast, Crystal didn’t mind. Gigi was the embodiment of a summer fling; fast, euphoric, ready to kiss her at any moment, and with endless smiles to give her. Part of Crystal hated that they lived in complete different sides of the country — she would’ve liked to take Gigi on a proper date.

Maybe next summer.

“Look who’s decided to appear,” Monique calls out when Brooke and Yvie approach their table.

Crystal glances at Vanessa out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by her.

“Don’t look at me. This one finally decided to make a move on the lifeguard right before we were supposed to leave,” Brooke says with an annoyed tone, pointing at Yvie with a cheeky grin.

The table soon erupts into a fit of giggles and exclamations, but Yvie doesn’t look the least bit bothered. If anything, she has a wide grin on her face as she sits next to Brooke.

“Hey! At least Scarlet gave me her number, and she’s coming to see me beat y’all’s asses tomorrow,” Yvie defends herself with a smile that’s giddy and cocky at the same time.

“You mean she’s coming to see your ass getting beat by me,” Plastique pipes up, sticking her tongue out to Yvie, who gasps in mock offense.

“Plastique, sit your ass down, you’re still a fetus, there’s no way you’re getting that first place above me,” Monét cuts in, causing a loud laugh from all the girls by the table, except Plastique, of course.

It doesn’t go unnoticed —for Crystal, at least— how Brooke bends over on the table to tell her something in a whisper that gets lost in the noise, and Plastique smiles, biting her lower lip.

If Vanessa noticed it, she doesn’t even flinch; instead, she joins the jokes and tells Monét she better kiss that prize goodbye, because she didn’t get endless sunburns throughout the summer to lose against her.

The table soon is a mess, with a hundred conversations going on at the same time and jokes being aimed at each other relentlessly. Crystal likes it. This is the sisterhood she knows and loves.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I have a lady to treat to dinner, and that’s enough reason to step up my game and get to that podium,” Crystal declares, slamming her hand on the table and causing many skeptical eyebrows to quirk her way.

“What kind of crazy bitch did you find to put up with your annoying ass during this summer?” Monique inquires in a playful tone. Jaida looks at her with a calm demeanour, but Crystal barely notices her. She grins at the opportunity of babbling about Gigi.

“Her name’s Gigi. I met her at this place last week, we’ve been going out after practices. And she’s cute. Ain’t she, Vanj?” Crystal says with a smile, and Vanessa rolls her eyes with a tiny smirk.

“It’s all this hoe talks about. I swear her cheesy ass makes me wanna vomit sometimes.”

“Hey! You talk about Kameron all day long and I say nothing.” She folds her arms with a childish pout, and it’s the first time in the night she sees Vanessa panic. Crystal is confused for a moment, until she realizes what she’s done.

Fuck, she wasn’t supposed to talk about Kameron in front of Brooke.

There’s silence for what feels like an eternity, until Brooke clears her throat to speak.

“You’re going out with Kameron?” She asks, her polite tone and piercing stare glued to Vanessa make Crystal’s stomach drop.

Vanessa inhales a sharp breath and finally pulls herself to meet Brooke’s eyes for the first time in a year. She’s flooded with memories of the good times, but the Brooke in her memories isn’t the one sitting across her — this Brooke doesn’t look at her with love in her eyes and a smile painted on her lips. This Brooke looks at her as if she’s trying her best not to pitch a screaming fight.

“Yeah, for about six months now,” Vanessa finally says, and Brooke cocks a sly brow.

“No wonder two months ago my dear cousin asked me if I was going to participate in the competition,” Brooke comments, her tone sharp and angry. Vanessa wants a hole to open up in the ground and swallow her whole. “Would y’all excuse me? I need a cigarette.” She pushes the chair back and gets up to leave, grabbing her pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. Yvie follows her after a while and Plastique stays glued to her chair.

Vanessa rubs her temples, feeling as if she’s in a bubble of white noise, making her ears hurt, and a feeling she thought was a part of her past settles in her chest.

Crystal feels extra guilty. It’s her fault, after all; she should’ve just let Vanessa mock her, or maybe say something about her current girlfriend without mentioning her name. But no. She had fucked everything up, even when things were going smoothly.

There are two things she’s sure of; she should start thinking before speaking, and tomorrow is going to be a hell of a bloodbath.

In the middle of the awkwardness last night, Jaida couldn’t get to say she also wants to win to impress a girl.

She’s been talking to Jan sporadically — after that encounter in the bathroom, they exchanged Instagram handles and would reply to each other’s stories from time to time. Sometimes Jaida sends risky replies and Jan —seeming to be the shy type— replies with a plethora of purple emojis and trying her best to let her know they’re on the same page.

She’s so adorable. Jaida wonders if she has enough time to ask her out while they’re still in the city.

Jaida has posted about the competition on her Instagram Stories, and Jan replied wishing her good luck. When she asked her if she was coming, Jan just said it was a possibility, with two winking emojis.

She hopes to see her there, but it’s not as if she’ll lose sleep if she doesn’t come — in the grand scheme of things, Jaida is far more worried about the competition itself.

The beach is crowded, like it always is, but this time around there’s more people with surfboards walking around, taking photos and warming up. She tries to find a familiar face among the crowd, but someone finds her instead.

“Jaida! Hi!” She turns around to see Jan standing there in a purple bikini, her blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, and her face is red, but Jaida can’t tell if it’s from the blush or the sunburn she got a few days ago, trying to get a tan — she knows this because Jan likes to overshare in her Instagram Stories.

“Jan, you came,” she says with a grin. Jan nods enthusiastically, motioning behind her.

“My friend, uh, she dragged us here to see the girl she’s going out with. But I wanted to come anyway, to see you, I mean,” she stammers a little, and it only makes Jaida’s grin widen.

“Tell your friend I’m sorry, ‘cause I’m about to beat her girl.” Jaida winks at her, and Jan giggles, flustered. Jesus, she’s too easy to get her flustered. Jaida always thought California girls were bolder; Katy Perry had lied to her, apparently. Not that she’s complaining, though.

They chat for a bit before Jaida has to go warm up, and Jan promises her she’ll be cheering for her. She follows her with her gaze and frowns a little when she sees she’s heading towards Crystal, who at the same time is talking with a brunette. Jan tugs at the arm of the brunette, and she gives Crystal a quick kiss before following Jan, leaving her lipstick behind on Crystal’s lips.

It takes Jaida about a second to put two and two together; she and Crystal are chasing after two girls of the same group.

How utterly cliché. Is the island that small?

Jaida pulls her hair in a tight bun before starting her warm up, stealing one last glance of Crystal, who’s trying to wipe away the lipstick off her lips and talking to a very gloomy Vanessa.

Almost on autopilot, she searches for Brooke and finds her warming up next to Yvie, with Plastique nowhere to be found.

Jaida just hopes they’ll be able to pull themselves together before the competition starts; she knows she could have a clear advantage if they aren’t focused, but she wants to compete with the best of the best — and beat them, clearly, so that means she’s the best.

Jaida takes one last deep breath once they’re allowed to go into the water, her muscles clenching with the cold water splashing her, but her heart races so fast she thinks it’ll come out of her chest at some point.

Somehow, she’s sure she hears Jan scream her name as she drifts away from the shore.

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thoughtsdying · 3 years

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For a change something about fandom, which I’m posting here bc it’s a reflexion on Voltron and we all now.... the problem there. (psss it’s the antis and purity police)

So before I even knew what Voltron was, I started seeing on AO3 that some ficwriters I liked had written?bookmarked?? fics about klance. I was ??? about the whole thing, and bit tired of seeing how it was invading the fandom lists of such ficcers so I went one day and bored at midnight am read like 2 fics? It was klance, bc seeing it everywhere (knowing nothing about the show except it was aliens and tobots) I thought it was the nearest canon solid fic.

(and i get weird with pairings and canon in ways that have to do with; is this dynamic interestic and complex within the worldbuilding and the charas and the themes? so in a new canon it’s important to me the plausability and possibility of a ship to work.)

And you know, I remember enjoying the fics? One hit particularly near my shipper heart even, with swordfights exhibitions in a foreign alien court (politics!!), friendly teasing, angst... etc. BUT THEN.

I think the third season was just being released or something? And a classmate was drawing klance and I said, connecting the dots, oh! that’s keith from voltron right? reminds me of nico di angelo, and she went, right?? the personality even, too!! And Lace is like Leo. And we talked a bit about how she was enjoying Voltron and I decided to start watching I think, bc hey, I wasn’t a big shipper of nico/leo but I thought it was an interesting concept and also, alien politics.

(Have I mentioned how much I love good worldbuilding that afects the plot? Also political conflict well done, like other people love romantic tropes.)

I WAS VERY MISGUIDED OF COURSE LOL

Children, don’t go into a show with secondhand misconceptions, before getting into it, just read a sinopsis or review and avoid wasting time xD

Well, I watched the first episode, only with like vague memories of those fics, bc like half a year had passed between then and me talking to my classmate and then watching Voltron... And I went: but but but. Shiro and Keith??? It’s obvious??? (And angsty and omg they know each other from before, what happened there, the other three are totally third wheeling except pidge, pidge is super cool???) Lance is super annoying and not in a cool way like Leo??? Keith is like, better than I thought? (I went with a good idea about him, maybe bc he really has something in common with nico and other charas of the style lmfao xD) Why do people even ship klance?, and that was I think the start of the end.

So like, I got bored with the simplistic plot around the middle of season 2 and left the fandom very baffled about the obssesion people had both with a show clearly created for kids with low plot/characterization complexity (where were my alien politics and interestellar cultural angst??? expectations mismatching reality, don’t fault the show really) and also convinced that everyone had latched onto the wrong ship bc it was the easier archetype anyways. (even though the rivality thing was just. not there, in a compelling mutual obssesion-total understanding way. just lance butthurt about keith being better than him and trying to flirt with princess-comander Allura.)

I was left with a bit of concern for those in fandom hell, and an interest in interesting meta about Voltron now I could get what they were talking about, but wow. Morbidly following Voltron discourse got me a window onto realising the existence of crazy antis and purity hell/police. What a yikes thing to be/do. It also put me completely off about reading klance even for the lols in fic.

Bc sometimes I read voltron fic, bc those could get on all that wasted potential in the kiddy show, wade profoundly on my original mistaken expectation for it, but then I couldn’t unsee that klance discourse (and also purity discourse) was bonkers and contrary to fandoms like HP where I could read almost every kind of ship no matter plausability except hard NOTPs, a lot of seemingly inocuos voltron fic was soured for me once I learnt how to see the discourse woven in it.

Also, sheith was much more interesting to me, in terms of charas, themes, worldbuilding involvement, etc xD Love at first scene lmao. It also avoided the yaoi seme/uke mischaracterization bullshit that plagged klance and its variants, and I hate ooc charas with the passino of a thousand suns. Even ooc for fics of shows I abandon or have a minor interest in, bc they drain the fic-stories of complexity and interest. It’s the same characterization for a lot of charas of different fandoms bc people (teens mostly, sadly) are lazy and want to project in everything, yikes.

(not that projecting all over fic it’s wrong but it’s not why i’m here. i think you could write your original story or search another fandom if you proyect and leave a canon you don’t vibe with alone)

Another reason I don’t like hard AU’s that aren’t variations on canon.

so like, thanks to AO3 for the exclude tag function~ And tumblr for the block one~

This was all me ranting about why I don’t understand klance and basically, ultimately all voltron fans. Thanks for the content but there’s so many other better stories out there...

#voltron #my opinion #fandom #oversharing is my second name after dying and before thoughts #not tagging the ships bc i don't want to wake up with my account murdered by antis #are they still out there? voltron has been dead by two years now i think #who knoes #not me i just read fic when i'm ultra bored lol

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

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Slippery slopes ahead

Grouping: Thirsty!Reader x Confused!Jimin

Word Count: ~6.6k (NSFW)

Warnings/Themes: sad amounts of desperate thirst, BRUISE PLAY? is that real? either way its a big one. Sex. First time sex but neither of them is a virgin. Jimin thinks he knows was BDSM is and he’s wrong. for some reason every time i write jimin he has a slight panty fetish lmao

Summary: “Look at you,” he coos. “All this time I thought you were shy.”

A/N: I made a banner look :’) isn’t it beautiful, legible, and not at all ugly?? Also this shares a universe with my other fic Sleeping Bags as well as my contribution to the BSC Secret Santa project!!!!

“If I don’t sleep with Jimin on this trip, I think I’m going to die.”

Lisa is accustomed enough to your lust filled rants that she doesn’t stop packing her bags. She does, however, give you side-eye that is so full of vague disappointment that you actually feel ashamed for a fraction of a second.

“What? I can feel you judging me.” You wag your finger at her. “ But there’s nothing wrong with wanting sex. ” Your voice is slightly whiny. And it’s been whiny since you started dating Park Jimin.

Lisa merely huffs at you and folds yet another sweater before putting it in her suitcase. You stand with your hands on your hips, a pair of lacy panties dangles from your clenched fist. You look so serious that Lisa can’t take you seriously and her annoyance breaks with a snort.

“Nothing,” Lisa sighs. “It’s just the way you’re always gagging for it makes me embarrassed. For you.”

“So?”

“So this is technically a trip for the community service club and not for your 4 month-iversary or whatever.”

You sniff, opting to ignore her logic. “Well, I’ll stop gagging when he finally gags me.” You punctuate the statement with a petulant toss of the panties.

“Do you hear yourself right now?”

“Sorry, sorry. I just...” you stare into the distance. “He’s just so hot. And for what?”

If she couldn’t hear the actual words you were using, Lisa might think you were contemplating some grand theme of life. The bittersweet expression on your face is all too grave to be the result of a little horniness. Although, given how well Lisa knows you, perhaps she should give you a pass.

“You know, if this were a movie, we’d be failing the Bechdel test right now.”

“Oh, whatever. hat’s not even the most accurate measure of a film’s womanist content.”

“Look who was paying attention in class. Wow.” She adds another folded shirt to her suitcase. “If you’re dying of thirst why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I can’t. It’d give him a heart attack. He thinks I have, like, dick-phobia and that I probably couldn’t ever make it past third base.”

“Why the hell would he think that? Does he know know you?”

“Remember that time we went to Namjoon’s party and he asked to use my laptop to play the movie?”

Lisa’s mouth drops open with the memory. “Oh my god yeah. The thing with the porn.”

You both grow quiet as you recall the time that Kim Namjoon, a mutual friend of yours and Jimin’s, accidentally projected a porno from your laptop onto the giant screen instead of the dark comedy you and 20 other people had gathered to watch.

It had been a few weeks before the official start of your relationship with Jimin, and you suppose he had misinterpreted your mortification. He probably thought your clammy hands and face were because you were worried people would judge you for being a fan of the video. Technically, that was what you were scared of. But only because you were worried people would judge the porno by its actors because they both weren’t 25 year old hotties instead of its quality. The video in question was of a woman with heinous lip fillers getting rawed by a man with a severely receding hairline. In truth, though, you’d learned to give the best head of your life from DSL Diana™️ and Matt Boner™️ always had great woman-friendly videos. They were a true power couple in the adult film world and only real aficionados would know that.

“Yeah,” you cringe to yourself and resume packing your own bag. “And that was before we even started going out. Since then, I can’t make any headway with him. If I try to put my hand down his pants, he stops and asks me if his fly is down.”

“Oh. My god.” Lisa balks at how easily you overshare. “W-well, maybe he’s waiting until what he thinks is the right moment to have sex.”

“I mean…I guess.” You shove more socks into your duffle. “But if that’s the case, this trip to the ski lodge should be more than good enough. For him, I mean. I’m not that picky after the other person is already locked down.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. How is this trip going to work when you can’t ski?”

“How do you know I can’t ski?”

Lisa snorts.

Right as the sun begins to set, the resort comes into view from the coach bus window. It's probably a beautiful sight, but you’re more fixated on the back of Jimin’s head. The look that you’re giving him itself isn’t one that’s warm or passionate. Instead you’re wondering what’s going on in his head as he presses himself to the window to get a better look.

“I still can’t believe we actually managed to get a suite at Crystal Snow.” He points to the glimmering slopes and turns to you with an excited smile. “They import their own snow when the winters are too warm for it to happen naturally. Last year they imported 6 million tons last year.”

“Global warming. Nice.”

His smile is so bright that you can’t hold on to your annoyance. You lean forward so you can rest your chin on his shoulder and listen to him spout off more facts about the different courses and the state of the art grounds. As soon as you move into his space, one of his hands gravitates to your knee and squeezes lightly. The urge to push his hand higher up your thigh appears, but you ignore it and try to focus on the things he’s saying.

“So, are you gonna spend all vacation on the hardest one? The—what’s it called? The black diamond?”

He turns to peer down at you with amusement creasing the corners of his eyes. “How can I do that and teach you to ski at the same time?”

“Why does everyone think I can’t ski?”

“Can you?”

“I…don’t know.”

“I’ll be a good teacher, I promise.” He plants a chaste kiss on your temple.

The resort looks as lavish as it appeared on the website, and you find yourself pleasantly surprised. As a prize for beating the other community service clubs on campus for the most funds raised for that semester’s cause, you and the other club members were all awarded a trip to Crystal Snow resorts. It seemed antithetical to the clubs’ mission statements, but you all decided to go anyway because the money to pay for the trip couldn’t be donated and the tickets were non-transferrable.

The suite itself cost a pretty penny, but the package it came with seems worth it. Attendants even come to pick up all the club members’ bags and take them ahead to the suite while you browse through the resort convenience store at the base of the mountain. Jimin and the other people in the club are scattered across the resort. Some of them already unpacking in their rooms while others came with you to the store.

Wishful thinking brings you to the aisle for ‘intimate health’. If anyone asks, you’re there to buy tampons, but you’re really hoping to sneakily buy some condoms. You still haven’t choked down your pride long enough to have an honest conversation with Jimin, so you’re hoping the moment will just pop up on its own.

Another girl stands at the very end of the aisle, ambling towards the little display of makeup that stands nearby. You pay her no mind and pick up the first package to catch your eye. A tap on your shoulder startles you and causes the box to slip from your grasp.

“Oh! Sorry,” she bends down to grab the dropped box. “I just wanted to ask you if you use concealer.”

From what you can tell, she seems to be around your age, maybe a little older. You peer down at the display she’s standing by and you try to search your brain for a brand name that sounds familiar. A small tube in the corner with memorable packaging helps you out.

“I think I’ve used this one, actually. It works pretty well, but if you use the wrong product under it, it gets a little flaky.”

“But the coverage is alright?” You nod. “I see.”

“You don’t look like you need it, though. Your skin is so clear.”

She chuckles nervously and begins to play with your condoms before she gestures daintily to her eyes. “It’s for the dark circles.”

At that moment, a boy with fiery hair comes barreling around the corner, calling the girl’s name. She turns and immediately a bright smile emerges on his face. You watch as he wraps himself around her before noticing the condom box she’s holding discreetly. He plucks it up before either of you can let him know they’re yours and brings them to the light to read the print on them. She locks eyes with you, embarrassment evident, but you offer what you hope is a comforting smile. You figure it’s easier to just get another box.

“Hope the concealer works out.” You back away to give her some privacy when the guy leans to stage-whisper into her ear.

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m sadly not a Magnum guy. Trojans work just fine for me.”

“Oh my god, why are you so loud?”

“I don’t think a 3-pack would be enough either.”

“Hoseok, lower your voice. And put those back, they’re not for us. They were hers.”

The guy with the red hair has dragged the girl away to look at something else. You watch until they disappear, letting out a chuckle. A few wispy tendrils of jealousy manifest in your stomach, but you try to stamp them out with optimism. If you buy condoms of your own, maybe it’ll have the same effect as those mantras Lisa always says before a test when she’s trying to will a good grade into existence. You figure Jimin is worth the effort.

But, as you fall on your butt for the sixth time the next afternoon, you’re not certain any amount of sex, no matter how good, is worth the pain you’re feeling currently.

You hobble back upright as best you can without disturbing your skis too much. Someone skiing behind you zooms by and you can hear their sympathetic laughter fly by with them. Fuck skiing. You don’t remember why you thought going on this trip would ever be fun.

“That fall looked hard. Are you okay?”

Jimin glides up next to you with an elegance you’ll never be able to replicate. Even the snow billows out softly in a sparkling cloud when he stops. He gives you a clinical pat-down, asking you where it hurts. You can hardly feel anything through the multiple layers and puffy coat that your wearing, so you bask in the physical contact instead.

“I’m fine, Minie.”

“You sure? We could take a break. Get some tea or something.”

“No, that’s okay. You go ahead and ski with the other professionals and I’ll stay here and practice the bunny slope.”

There’s something hilarious about watching Jimin squirm so much over such a trivial thing. He stands there, decked out in his professional gear, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he contemplates. Does he finally go off to the exciting courses where he can get as close as possible to fulfilling his dream of flying? Does he help you stay upright, an impossible and menial task?

“Okay, I got it. Maybe you practice the pizza french fry thing the instructor taught you while I go do one pass through the other course. Then I swear I’ll come back and help you.”

“Jimin, you really don’t have to spend all this time helping me. How about you go do all the run throughs you like and you make it up to me later?”

His responding smile is shy but full of joy at the prospect of actually getting to ski. He shuffles forward, careful not to interlock your skis, and kisses you softly. He tries to pull away after only a few seconds of a chaste press of lips, but you deepen the kiss. Although it was really only a sly swipe of tongue, it has Jimin looking dazed and confused when he finally pulls back.

“Did you hit your head?”

There’s a joking lilt to his voice, but his eyes narrow as he takes you in. You still look like a marshmallow in your puffer coat and you still seem just as sweet. But the kiss was suspicious.

“Go have fun,” you wave him off before he can interrogate you further.

You wait until he disappears into a ski lift before turning around and hobbling back to the top of the gradual hill. Some of the younger club members are chatting up there and you use your seniority to make them practice with you until you can’t take it anymore.

Right before your limbs lose the ability to support your weight, you trudge back to the nearest entrance. You’re grateful for the warm air blowing in the elevator and for the fact that there is an elevator in the first place. Once inside, you strip layer by layer until you reach the room you and Jimin share in the suite.

All of the rooms in the suite are separated by small hallways that lead to a chic communal space with a picturesque view of the grounds. No one seems to be present when you finally make it through the door. You’re partly grateful because you can go shower in peace without having to worry about making small talk with other club members.

True to your agenda, you gather all the things needed to aid you in seducing Jimin. It’s mainly just soap and barely there underwear. It’s not until you begin stripping that you realize there might be a few issue. The first being that your muscles are all sore and exhausted as you struggle out of your snow-soaked clothes. But the main issue is the large bruises that show up as soon as all of your clothes are gone.

It’s true, you bruise easily. But these bruises look bad even to you. You count half a dozen muted reddened blooms sprawling across your torso. In the mirror of the bathroom, you turn to look at them. It’s almost impressive.

“We’ll just do it with the lights off,” you mumble to yourself.

The shower is longer than would be perfunctory, but the return of feeling to your toes seem rather important and the heat of the water helps in undoing some of the tension buried in the muscles that you didn’t realize you don’t regularly use until today. Right as you’re pulling on some loose pants and a shirt, you hear footsteps.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah,” he calls from somewhere outside the bathroom.

“How was it?”

You emerge from the bathroom in a sweet-smelling cloud and his first instinct is to open his arms to beckon you into them. Gladly you jump into them, causing him to fall backwards with a thud. With most of his layers still on, the fall is broken and there’s no harm done.

“The hills were great.” His eyes cloud over briefly with the memories of skiing.

He pats your hip lightly and you roll over so he can start shedding his own soggy layers. You watch him shrug off his vest, revealing a thermal athletic shirt. The fabric is opaque and covers his entire torso, but it's also tight enough to mold to his physique like a second skin. Under his snow pants, the matching thermal tights he’s wearing also reveal the architecture of his sculpted thighs, though his thick socks give his feet a teddy bear quality. The planes of his slender frame and compact muscles are a sight to behold and you feel a prickling in the palms of your tightly clasped hands. You’re itching to touch him.

“You checking me out?” He smiles cheekily and stands so he can shuck off the rest of his wet clothes.

“Of course,” you breathe. Your candid answer startles a full-bodied laugh out of him.

“What’s gotten into you this today?”

“Not you” you whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just said I’m still a little cold, even after the shower. Why don’t we watch a movie in the bed and I can leech some of your body heat.”

“Yeah, as soon I get cleaned up. I really worked up a sweat while I was out there. I was racing Jungkook. He’s fast but his form is just okay. Plus, he’s a dick.”

It takes you all of the time that Jimin is in the shower to pick the perfect pose on the bed. Something that isn’t too obviously thought out while also highlighting all of your assets as best you can while wearing such loose clothing. It’s times like these where you curse yourself for not having any loungewear that’s figure-friendly, but you have enough trouble as it is sleeping in pants, let alone constricting ones. You finally settle for lying on your side with your back facing the entrance of the bedroom. It puts your ass on display—especially given that you tugged you pants down a little to let the lace of your underwear peep out. With your phone in your hands, you’re certain you look like the picture of nonchalance.

At the sound of his footsteps entering the bedroom again, you deliver your lines

“Oh, how long have you been out of the shower? I got so wrapped up in my feed, I didn’t notice you were out.” You quickly refresh your email despite the fact that your inbox is very much empty.

“Just got out. Did you pick a movie?”

“No, I figured you could pick it and if I don’t like it I’ll just take a nap.”

You turn and instantly regret it. Jimin stands with the shirt he plans to put on in one hand, leaving him bare from the waist up. His face is covered by the towel he’s using to scrub at his wet hair. When he finally throws on the shirt, a small sigh leaves you.

He hops into the bed and hands you the remote before dragging you into his hold. The way his arms wrap around you means he’s pressing slightly into one of the bruises that spreads across the side of your rib cage. There’s a low twinge of pain, but since cuddling with Jimin is part of the plan, you don’t say anything. You click through the movie listing because he’s too busy with you to hold the remote.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch this one?”

“Yeah,” he nuzzles his nose into your cheek, “but I heard it got shitty ratings at the box office.”

“Oh. What about this one? The trailer looked really good.”

“I thought it was my turn to pick.”

He squeezes you to complement his faux-whines, pressing the bruise harder. Underneath the mild pain is a surprising layer of something else. It’s hard to decipher and registers as vaguely smoky in your senses. All you know is that it’s not actually that bad of a sensation.

“I-it is your turn. I just want to make sure that you see all the options.”

A few more minutes pass until you finally choose a movie. Jimin picke a movie about anthropomorphic vegetables because he has a surprisingly awful sense of humor. If your goal was to actually sit down and watch a movie, you’d be debating his choice. But you don’t care and instead work on subtly pulling down the collar of his t-shirt so you can get to his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. You just smell nice.” In the juncture of where his shoulder meets neck, you inhale deeply. “Right here.”

“Feels good.” He hums, eyes still glued to the gyrating broccoli stalk on the screen.

“Good.”

Starting slowly, you place tiny kisses on as much of his neck as you can reach. Your hands wander under his t-shirt and your fingers dig into a cord of muscle in his back. He lets out a small groan. You spend some time working on the spot until he melts a little further into your embrace. While he’s pliant you hitch your leg over his hip. It’s not enough to be able to grind on him, but the suggestion is there. You know he’s aware of it too because he casts a narrowed glance in your direction before giving you another warning squeeze in the same spot again. A breathy gasp leaves you like it’s been punched out and a smile spreads on your face soon after. You’re having fun riling him up.

“Be careful,” his tone is full of warning.

“Why?”

He looks at you again with sly warning in his eyes. A heavy hand pats your back before petting down the attractive curve of your spine. The warm weight of his palm only a few inches from your ass is wonderfully suspenseful.

“You’ll be in over your head, otherwise.”

“I don’t think so,” you smile up at him while smoothing the fabric of his shirt. The pitter-patter of his heartbeat feels like butterfly kisses on your palm.

“Is that so?”

You nod, tongue poking out from between your teeth teasingly.

He rolls over so you’re caged underneath him. Instantly his lips meet yours in a slow intermingling that would be considered chaste if not for the obscene amount of tongue and the cyclical pressure of his groin against your lower abdomen. You manage to wrestle your legs out from under him so you can part them. His hips easily fall into the slot you make for him. He hums lowly against your mouth as he makes contact with the warmth of your center, perceptible even through the layers of bottoms you’re both still wearing. A hand worms it’s way underneath your shirt, fingers splaying past the elastic waistband of your pants and meeting the rough texture of lace.

“No way,” he breathes to himself before sitting up on an elbow.

He lifts the waistband further to peer into crotch of your pants. There he sees the tiny pair of underwear you put on for the occasion. It’s a pretty cornflower blue color that he’s pretty sure he’s told you is his favorite. He drags his gaze from your lace-clad hips to the smug expression on your face.

“Look at you,” he coos. “All this time I thought you were shy.”

“I think that was something you made up. I’m really not shy. At least, not when it comes to you.”

You try to wrap your arms around him to bring him back to your mouth, but he resists.

“Hold on, I wanna see again.”

He slides your pants down a few inches, slowly as if to tease himself. By the time the whole garment is exposed, you’re shivering a little bit from the cool air. He leans down to press a few kisses on the skin of your stomach and pulls your pants down further. He groans and reaches down to palm himself through his pants.

“Turn over, please?”

You get onto your stomach as quickly as you can with your pants tangled around your legs. As soon as you get settled, you hear a large gasp.

“Shit!”

“How’s it look,” you ask coyly.

“Holy—Are you okay?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

You crook your head back so you can see what he sees and suddenly you understand his strange reaction to your ass. There’s another large bruise spanning the top of one of your thighs reaching past the boundary of your panties. Since it was on the back of your leg, you must have missed it during your cursory inspection in the shower.

“We should go to the infirmary. Or maybe we should just see if we can get a car to take you home.”

“No, Jimin, I’m fine.” If you go home now, you’re certain you’ll be back to square one.

“I don’t know. It looks...angry.”

“That’s just because I bruise easily. I’m not actually injured—”

“Hold on. Where did this come from? Did someone do this to you?”

“No, no. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s probably from all the falls I had today. I guess I really can’t ski after all.” You chuckle awkwardly. He ignores your joke and glares down at the bruise instead.

“So, you probably have a lot of them, then.”

He tugs your pants the rest of the way down. The one on the back of your thigh seems to wrap around to the intercrural area. And there are, in fact, more bruises. Another one lies on your opposite calf. When he reaches for your shirt, you brush his hand away and slowly lift it yourself. The one on your rib cage is large, and he stares on in horror. Then he shifts and peers at the smaller ones on your back.

“You really want to tell me that you’re fine?”

“Yes. Because I’m actually fine.” He raises an incredulous eyebrow. “I mean it, I really am.”

“Fine. But at least let me put something on them.”

“As long as it’s not ice.”

He glares weakly at you when you rule out his first instinct. Looking through his bag for remedies ends up being disappointing. He comes back empty handed.

“Couldn’t find anything?” He shakes his head. “Sad. Maybe we should just go back to what we were doing before.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“I’ll tell you what. Let me massage the areas and if they don’t hurt, I’ll take it as a sign that you’re okay. And we can go back to doing whatever you want. But if I find out that you’re in pain, we’re taking a rain check.”

“Deal.”

A moment later, in hindsight, you realize you may have just dug your own grave. The bruises are fairly tender though you’re not in agony. But you’re sure that even the slightest flinch will send Jimin running for the figurative hills. Although he also might just go back to the actual hills and leave you in the suite to let your blue balls stew.

Jimin sits on his heels in front of you with an unreadable expression. Despite the cold in the air, you kicked off your pants entirely so that he would have easy access to your sore muscles. He’d asked you before whether you wanted to start from the top, but thinking that your rib cage bruise was the most sensitive made you tell him to work his way up. You figured that if you could make it through the first few bruises, he might believe that they were all fine and drop the issue.

He starts with the lowest bruise which is the one on your calf. First he plays around with your ankle, rotating it and swiveling your foot to flex your calf. You bite the inside of your cheek to make sure no pained noise slip out. Surprisingly enough, even when he lightly presses on the bruise itself, it’s not bad. He works over the muscle without you making a single peep. Hope bubbles in your stomach and you wonder if tonight will be the night that you finally bed Park Jimin.

“One down, a few more to go. Although I really don’t know if you need to go through all of them.”

“It’s the least I can do for you. After all,” he says with challenge in his gaze, “you tried so hard to become familiar with one of my hobbies.”

“I’m a great girlfriend.”

“That is true.” His tone turns genuine as he switches legs and moves up your unblemished calf the same way.

With you on your back and the next bruise on your thigh mainly towards the back, he has to lift your leg to get access. Your hamstrings are always tight and the stretch in itself makes you grimace slightly. But you tamp down on it quickly and school your features into a neutral arrangement so as not to lose the unspoken competition at play.

“How does this feel?”

He presses his fingers lightly into the bruised skin and you have to twist your fingers into the duvet beneath you. It hurts much more than your calf, about the same as your rib cage. But you can also feel familiar stirrings of arousal in the pit of your belly. You take a deep breath and compose yourself.

“It feels fine. I just don’t usually stretch this part, so this position is a little tough.” The smile he gives you is mean, almost predatory. He calls your bluff.

“I see. I’ll try not to linger here too much then.”

A few inches higher up your thigh, the pain along with the arousal gets more acute. And as Jimin’s fingers move higher up and closer to your inner thigh, you’re not sure if you can take it.

“Mmfh, fuck.” You whine when he’s about an inch away from the apex of your thighs.

“Aha! I knew it.”

“Wait, no—”

“Nope, that’s it. I’ll finish breaking up any lactic acid, but after that I’m putting up a pillow wall and you’re keeping your hands to yourself until you’ve healed.”

“But I’m fine, though.”

“It’s okay. There’ll be other times. Let me finish up. I’d rather do boring stuff than hurt you.”

At that moment you want to scream out of frustration. A little pain may actually be what you’re seeking and convincing him that it’s actually what you want could take forever. You search for a solution desperately as he continues his gentle ministrations. But you’re getting tired, and at this point there’s no point in masking anything.

You sink down into the pillows propping you up, letting the mix of pain and pleasure wash over you as he tries to jumpstart the healing process in your skin. Little whines and grunts sneak past your lips as he works over you. The higher he goes, the louder and more unabashed your sounds become until he becomes confused. He stops.

“Am I hurting you? I know I’m not a professional, so we can stop—”

“No,” you clench and unclench your thighs. “Keep going.”

He’s about to continue when he notices the large wet spot on the seat of your underwear. Somehow he missed it as he was focusing on ridding the tension from you. He clears the small distance to your underwear and strokes his thumb across the growing stain. The underwear is wet enough that it’s actually started to cling to your folds and leaves a shining residue on his finger.

“Is this...because of the bruises?”

“Yeah.”

“But they hurt, don’t they?”

“Yeah. But it’s good, too.”

“I see,” he cedes after a beat.

Hooking his fingers, he pulls on the waistband of your underwear until you can kick it off your ankles. He surges forward and you take his weight with a low grunt, eagerly wrapping your arms and a leg around him so he can’t run away again. With one hand snaking down to return to your thigh, the other cups your cheek tenderly. He kisses you tentatively at first, like he’s not sure if your newfound desire is fully tangible.

“So, are you into BDSM or something?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But this is kinda nice.”

“I guess I just don’t want to hurt you. I’m not really sure where the line would be, y’know?”

“I’m not asking you to hang me from the ceiling and flog me. We can save that for some other time.”

You meet halfway and continue making out. Jimin seems slightly emboldened and hedges his tongue across the seam of your lips. You open for him and he continues his exploration of your mouth. The way he kisses you today is different from all the other times. While he often left you with a low burning desire before, you had no idea just how much he was holding back. And though he’s not pulling away at the start of heavy petting, he’s still treating you like you might break.

“What’s bothering you, Minie?”

“What do you mean?”

“It feels like you still haven’t let go yet. I’m not that fragile.”

“But I don’t want to weird you out.”

“I really doubt that will happen.”

“Okay.”

He kisses you again, this time slightly sloppier before pulling away and thumbing at the moisture on your lips. You sit still and let him keep fondling your lips until you part them on instinct. As soon as you do, his thumb enters your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and suck.

“Fuck,” he shudders over you. “That’s it.”

You have to ignore the impulse to laugh. He just found out that you get turned on with the right type of pain—how could he ever think a finger in your mouth would weird you out? He removes his finger, gently, and fumbles with his own bottoms. You push yourself up on your elbows to get a look at his junk. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but a first time dick reveal is always exciting. He’s only half hard once the pants are off, but that won’t be the case for long if the way he grips himself is any indication. At least, you hope he’ll be ready soon, because you’ve been dripping for what feels like forever.

This is something he also takes note of. Shifting his hips forward, you feel the blunt edge of him nudge your sticky lips. Both of you release sighs of relief at the contact and Jimin starts rutting against you, repeatedly parting your folds as he slides his length through the arousal pooling there. When his head bumps your clit, you gasp.

“Yeah?” He bumps against it again, and once you nod frantically, he starts to grind against the spot.

The way you look writhing underneath him sets something ablaze in him. Jimin lays his hand over one of your breasts, rolling the nipple. Your back arches forward and you mirror his movements on the other one. With your free hand you nudge him closer to the bruise on your rib cage.

“A-again?”

“Yeah. Just go slow.”

While grinding into your wet heat, he starts dragging his hand down your side. With each stroke of his hand, his fingers catch on the slightly sweaty bruised area. A moan builds in your chest and rips out of you when you take over tweaking your own piqued nipples. It’s not until his rhythm slips and he nearly enters you that you remember what other things you could be doing.

“Jimin, I—oh god—want you inside me. Are you ready?”

He tests his hardness briefly. “Yeah.”

You alert him of the condoms you bought earlier that day. He looks where you direct him (under the mattress) and laughs at your readiness. He laughs again at the sleepy, hungry look in your eyes as you watch him roll the condom down his length. When he crawls back to you on the bed, he’s trying to be campy, but somehow he still looks incredibly attractive.

Everything turns sweet and slow again as he leans down to kiss you. Your tongues glide against each other and he positions himself so his arms bear his weight on either side of your head. He pushes in slowly and the stretch has you biting into the meat of his nearby bicep. Once you adjust, he begins pumping into you with the same fervor he had before entering. He’s close and his thrusts are too shallow for your liking. You reach down and press on his lower back to urge him deeper. You would have released after he got the message, but the globes of his ass are so perky and firm in your hands that you can’t help but swat at them.

“What the hell!” He jumps inside of you but doesn’t stop the swiveling of his hips, cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you place an open mouthed kiss on the column of his neck as further apology. “You just have a cute butt.”

He laughs, the sound breathy from exertion. “Cute? Not sexy?”

“It feels cute.”

“Don’t call me cute while I’m inside you.”

With that he brings a hand down to search for your clit. Your breath hitches and he quickens the pace of his hips to match the speed of his fingers. The tight figure eights around the little nub have your core tightening as your orgasm approaches. You feel like a vice around him and he gasps, hips stuttering as he pours into the latex barrier.

You look ethereal beneath him with dewy skin that seems to glow, but you haven’t come yet. So despite the sensitivity from just having come himself, he pulls you forward by the hips and continues to piston into you with grit teeth. He raises your leg to hit deeper with one hand while his free hand edges under the other leg. With his fingers spread wide, he manages to press his fingers into the bruise that spreads across the the underside of your thigh and flick his thumb across your clit in a flurry.

Your orgasm hits you with an unexpected amount of force. It feels as though your lungs have stopped working and you can’t take any more breaths, but you don’t care. Your vision whites out at the same moment that a final wave of wetness trickles over where your bodies are joined.

Jimin pulls out carefully now that you’re both over sensitive. Your leg flops down with a low thump on the mattress. Right into the small puddle your organsm must have caused.

“Wait a second, did I—”

“Looks like it,” he peers down at the stain with admiration.

“Well, that’s a first. How was that for you?”

“It was good,” he trails off with a smile. “You know...you’re pretty kinky.”

“No, I’m not. You’re just vanilla.”

“I’m not vanilla,” he balks.

“Yeah, right. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I, uh. Hmm.” It takes him a long while to think. “Oh, one time I watched this porn with two girls.”

“Is that all?”

“No! They were wearing, like, really tricky leather outfits.” You start snickering but he continues. “They were pulling each other’s hair on purpose. And one of them was spanking the other with this...cutting board.”

“Do you mean a paddle? Oh my god, you’re so cute. To think you thought I would be in over my head.”

He stomps off to get a wet towel from the bathroom. When he returns, he’s still pouting but helps you with clean up. It takes pressing yourself against his bare back while he strips the bed and several well placed kisses to get him to stop the sulking.

“Really, though. Why did you think I would be so skittish for our first time? Is it because of movie night at Namjoon’s?”

“Honestly? It’s because of the first day we met.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were a children’s librarian.” Your head tilts in confusion. “It was probably because you were wearing a cardigan.”

“I only ever wear cardigans when I go in to the daycare to read, though.”

“First impressions can be lasting,” he nods sagely to his own words.

“So what do you think about me now?”

You sit back down in front of him so he can evaluate you. You’ve thrown on a different loose t-shirt but your legs are bare.

“The same. You’re still my ‘nice little girlfriend’, as my mom says.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm,” he hums pensively before crouching into your space, eyes playful. “Maybe not so nice.”

#btssmutclub #bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #95line.net #bscproject #bts smut #bts fanfction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bangtan fanfic #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin scenarios #jimin imagine

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killerqueenmachine · 5 years

Text

Gonna take me to the Oscars or nah? - PART 4

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Words: 4600+

Prompt: None Summary: It's the last day before the Oscars! You finally meet the other BoRhap guys and have a blast spending your day with them. Your relationship with Gwilym develops and by now, you feel like you could barely live without him anymore. Fluffy and then turns smutty, just because I couldn't stop my self.

Warnings: Fluff fest, voyeurism, female masturbation, choking kink, prone boning.

Note: In this fic 'reader' is taller than Joe Mazzello, yet shorter than Gwilym Lee, which means somewhere between 175cm (5'9) and 188 cm (6'2). This is a part 4 of a series - you can find the other 3 parts in my Masterlist! I’ve been thinking about doing a taglist.. Please let me know, if you would want to be on my taglist!

__________________

You were woken up by Gwilym placing the softest kiss on your shoulder. During the night you had shuffled around, and instead of waking up in his chest, where you fell asleep, you had rolled over, facing away from him. As you slowly woke up, you felt Gwilym's entire body pressed against yours.

"Good morning" you groggily whispered.

"Morning, beautiful. Slept okay?" he spoke against your skin. His groggy morning voice gave you chills.

"Mh-hm" you replied and rolled around in his arms, so your chests were now pressed against each other’s.

"This is nice" you whispered against his lips.

You felt him smile ever so slightly against your lips and you moved your one hand underneath his arms, down his torso to rest it on the small of his back and the other hand to the top of his head, gently massaging his scalp.

"Is everything okay?"

You felt a little nervous, which was the main reason for your question. Moments before Gwilym had fallen asleep last night, you had told him that you were in love with him - and he had replied with a 'me too'. The thought of it made you giddy, and you really hoped that he meant it and not just something he said out of post-orgasm bliss. He moved a little away from you so the two of you could actually look each other in the eyes without getting cross-eyed.

"Why wouldn't I be? I feel like the luckiest and happiest man in the world right now"

He looked at you with a confused look - he almost looked as if he was scared, that he had done something wrong. His brows were furrowed, and his beautiful pink lips had turned into a slight frown.

"I.. " You didn't even know what to answer.

"I don't know. I just wanted to make sure that this is actually what you want." you closed your eyes as you spoke.

"I'm just not ready to fall if there won't be anyone there to catch me" you softly admitted, nervous that you had overshared.

Your eyes were still closed but you could feel Gwilym's gaze rest on your face. He moved his hand to your cheek and softly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"I'll catch you baby, I promise" he whispered before he pressed another kiss, this time to your forehead.

You felt your eyes getting wetter by the minute. You slowly blinked and opened your eyes, which were now completely filled with tears. His response had completely knocked the air out of you. You had never been a true believer of love at first sight but seeing Gwilym in the flesh had sparked something within you. You had only known him - the real him - for a week but it felt like a life time. You had never felt so secure in anyone's company before.

"Will you catch me too?"

"Do you think I'm strong enough?"

"I know you are. I hope you are - I don't know what to do if you aren't"

You couldn't help but smile. His thumb rubbed a few circles on your cheekbone, before he gently slid his hand down your jaw and grabbing your chin slightly, pulling your face to his. You moved your hand from his back and up to cup his jaw instead.

"I hope your faith will be justified. I'll do my best, I promise" you whispered against his lips, before closing the tiny gap between the two of you.

You pressed your lips against his with a passion you had never felt before. In a moment it felt like you had finally understood the meaning of life. Him. You and him together, was exactly what life was about. You devoured each other. It seemed like nothing else mattered, not even oxygen. Gwilym slightly moaned into your mouth. He was so caught up in the kiss - and so were you. You wanted nothing more than completely melt into him, becoming one. Time seemed to disappear and before you knew it, the two of you had to pull apart, both of you almost gasping for air.

"I feel like you'll do just fine-" Gwilym as abruptly cut off by his phone ringing. It was a WhatsApp video call from Joe. Seeing his name on the screen made you smile - you really missed him too. He looked at you almost searching for some kind of confirmation. You were still in bed, neither of you had been out of it at all, your hair were messes, the bed was a mess, everything was a mess, but you loved it.

"You look beautiful, Gwil. Just answer it." you said to him, slightly pulling away from him, so you wouldn't get caught by the camera.

Joe had called the remaining three guys in one big group video. Rami and Ben had already answered when Gwilym finally joined in. A few jokes were cracked between the four of them and the chemistry they all had with each other made your heart flutter. After quite some time of being completely quiet and not really moving, to make sure the guys wouldn't notice you, you felt a sneeze coming on. You panicked slightly, not knowing how to hide it. You pulled the blanket up and tried to cover your mouth and nose as you sneezed, hoping that it wouldn't make too much noise.

"What was that?" Ben asked. Their whole conversation got completely quiet and Gwilym's eyes darted to you, not knowing what to say. As far as you knew, Gwilym hadn't told Ben and Rami about you, but there was a fair chance, that he had told them without you knowing.

"Uh" Gwilym sighed, slightly defeated.

"Wait, you're.. She's in your bed?! Hi (Y/N)!!" Joe almost squealed. Who would've thought that grown men could sound that much like teenage girls?

"Actually, I'm in her bed" Gwilym laughed, panning his camera down, so the guys could see you.

You desperately tried to hide some of your face in the blanket, but you still managed to wave and say hey to the guys. Now that your presence was known, you felt like the other guys were dying to ask Gwilym all the juicy questions, but they held back. You gently patted Gwilym's chest and made it known that you would go take a shower.

When you came back, Gwilym was nowhere in sight. He had left you a note on your bed, which read:

Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

Sorry for my dramatic morning exit - just wanted to give you some space. I'm still right here, ready to catch you, if you ever trust me enough to throw yourself at me.

The guys asked if you wanted to join all of us for lunch at 1. Call me or come on up or whatever you want, I already miss you.

Love,

Your Gwilღ

(You can call me Gwilliam Shakespeare, if you want)

The last line made you laugh like mad. Everything inside you felt like mush. There was not a single doubt in your mind that this man - and his Shakespeare notes - would at some point be the death of you.

________ A few hours later

It was half past midday, and you had had a few hours to yourself, getting ready for the day and just enjoying your own company. You softly knocked on the door to Gwilym's room. The door got opened mere seconds after your last knock.

"Well if it isn't mister Gwilliam himself" you laughed, almost launching yourself at him to kiss him.

He laughed with you and embraced you in a tight hug, peppering your face with kisses. Everything felt just right, at this very moment.

"Are you ready to meet the other guys? Joe misses you a lot - A LOT!" Gwilym said, before sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his shoes.

"Yeah, I think so. They seem really nice - and I can't wait to see Joe again" you said, leaning against the wall, completely mesmerized by Gwilym.

Gwilym just looked up at you and sent you a reassuring smile.

"Is Lucy coming too?"

"No, sadly not. She's in a meeting with her styling team."

"Oh"

Gwilym finally rose from the bed a walked over to you, pressing yet another kiss on your forehead before he offered you his arm. You gently placed your hand in the crook of his arm and let him lead you out of his room and down to the restaurant that was located in the hotel.

You were greeted by the three other guys that had already found their way downstairs. Joe embraced you in a warm hug, shortly followed by slightly shyer hugs from both Rami and Ben, before you returned to Gwilym's side.

The lunch went smooth as ever. You held back a little, mostly in awe of being in such an amazing company. Gwilym sat next to you and whenever he felt you tensing up a bit or whenever you got a little nervous, he quickly placed his hand on your knee to calm you down. You found instant comfort in his blue eyes every time you got the chance to look at him.

After lunch the five of you went for a walk around the area. The sun was shining, and the soft spring air felt amazing against your face. You had imagined that you would spend your walk, being in your own head and not really speaking all that much, but Joe had other things in mind. You and Joe were walking together and Gwilym, Ben and Rami were a few steps behind you, sharing stories of their trips here and their process of getting their designated suits. Joe kept joking about his amazing matchmaking services and you simply played along. He had set you up with the most amazing man in the world and you were forever grateful. If it hadn't been for Joe, you wouldn't even be here.

"Alright, lovebirds" Joe laughed when all of you had found your way back to the hotel about an hour later. Gwilym pulled you closer to him with a grin, which made you blush.

"Don't tease them, Joe" Rami laughed, playfully tapping his fist against your shoulder.

"You guys are so funny" you started in a mocking voice.

"Right, before this turns into a fight - little missy here and I have a meeting-" Gwilym was cut off by Ben.

"You can call it a date, Gwil"

"It's not a date. We have a meeting with my stylist. It's a little hard finding a stylist here a few days before the Oscars, you know" he stated.

All of you laughed, hugged and parted ways. You and Gwilym hurried to the meeting with his stylist, which didn't last as long as you had thought it would. All of you figured out how, when, where and what in the matter of minutes. His stylist had pulled a few strings and had found one of his colleagues to help him, so you could get your hair and make-up done too.

Once your whole plan for the day had ended, you and Gwilym were back in his hotel room, both of you laying on your backs on his bed, more or less socially exhausted. None of you really said anything, you just laid there and enjoyed the sound of his breathing.

"I really want to take you out for dinner" he mumbled while his eyes were still closed. It was very obvious, that he was tired.

"You really don't have to, Gwil. I'm not that high maintenance" you laughed and rolled over and kissed his cheek.

"But I want to" he sighed lovingly, while slowly opening his eyes.

"Come on, there's this lovely place right down the ro-" once again he was caught off, this time by a knock on the door.

You gently patted his chest as you rose from the bed and walked over to open the door.

"Hey, figured we'd find you guys here - you guys wanna go out for dinner?" Joe asked and behind him were Ben and Rami placed, both of them sending you soft smiles. All of you looked spent but you smiled and nodded.

"Come on, old man. Your friends want to spend time with you" you laughed, walking over to pull Gwilym up from the bed.

He stumbled to his feet, much to the enjoyment of everyone in the room. He pulled you into his arms and kissed the shell of your ear.

"Play nice, kitten" he whispered so quietly that none of the boys could've possibly heard it. His groggy whisper almost made your knees buck, but instead you just swallowed your words and turned around with an innocent smile, trying to hide the fact that you could've jumped Gwilym right then and there.

You all went out at a restaurant much nicer than you had imagined. It was the most pleasant company in the world and you never wanted them to leave again. They had all been so kind and just accepted you into their group. During the whole dinner, Gwilym had been running his hands all over your thighs. His mind was clearly set on something other than the meal.

Once again you all walked back to the hotel together. Half way there, Gwilym excused himself and went another way, telling all of you that it was a secret. Ben and Joe looked at you, hoping that you could provide an explanation, but you were just as confused as they were. You all just let him run off and you walked back to the hotel where you hugged all of the boys goodnight, before returning to your room - alone.

The fact that Gwilym didn't tell you what he was doing made you feel a little uneasy, but you decided not to worry about him. Instead you undressed and threw on your satin nightgown and just as you were about to settle down for the night, you heard a soft knock on your door. You sighed and made your way to the door, slowly opening it and slightly hiding behind it. Your nightgown wasn't really covering everything, and you didn't want to show of your body to just anyone.

You were met by Gwilym's beautiful blue eyes and his warm smile.

"Hi, sorry for just running off. Do you want to maybe.. Uh.."

He stopped talking for a few seconds, which made you raise your eyebrows fairly intrigued to hear the rest of his question.

"I just figured out that this is going to sound so strange and I don't know how to word it properly." He admitted, while a shy red colour started to show up on his cheeks.

You felt yourself falling even more in love with him. You had never experienced anyone having a hard time trying to say something to you. Not like this, anyway.

"It's just.. I bought some eye-masks - which was why I ran off - and we still have a whole bottle of champagne from yesterday just waiting in my room and I just wanted to invite you up, but no matter how I tried to put the sentence together in my head, it just ended up sounding really… suggestive or vulgar"

You stepped away from the door, finally revealing your outfit and gently grabbed his hand before kissing his cheek.

"Oh, Gwilliam. Not as smooth with words as you were this morning, huh?" you giggled playfully.

His jaw slightly dropped as he saw your barely clothed body and the softest red colour started to show on his cheeks.

"Of course, I'll come to your room - uh.. I should maybe put on a little more clothes then-" you started, before a very flustered Gwilym cut you off.

"No.. I mean… Please don't. You look amazing in that gown."

"But Gwil we have to-"

"Here, you can borrow my blazer. Come on" he laughed and draped his blazer over your shoulders.

You quickly went back inside your room to grab your room-key and your phone, before heading out and following Gwilym to his room. Carefully making your way through the hallways and begged to God that nobody else was going to use the lift. During your whole journey, Gwilym's right hand never left the small of your back, except for those few times where his hand slid down and squeezed your butt.

You barely made it inside Gwilym's room before he pushed you against the wall and hungrily kissed you. He took you by surprise which made you moan into his mouth. You gripped his hips and pulled him as close to you as you could, softly grinding against him.

"Uh-uh, kitten" Gwilym whispered against your lips.

"I did not buy these eye masks for nothing" he laughed and kissed your nose, before pulling away from you and throwing the eye-masks on the bed. It looked like there was still some sort of box in his plastic bag, but you couldn't quite figure out what it was.

Gwilym kicked off his shoes and quickly changed from his trousers into his grey sweats from yesterday, before he went over to the bottle of champagne, that he had bought for the two of you yesterday. While he opened the bottle and poured two flutes, you removed his blazer from your shoulders and gently hung it on the back of one of the chairs in the room. You sat down on the edge of the bed, following Gwilym's every move with your eyes. He handed you one of the flutes and sent you a playful smile.

"To you" he said and raised his glass.

"To us" you replied with a soft smile and clinked your glass against his before taking a sip of the bubbly fluid.

The two of you put on the eye masks and quietly leaned back and relaxed. Gwilym had put on some meditation music and guided you all the way down on the mattress and gently pulled the covers over the both of you to make you feel as comfortable as possible. He had told you a story about how this was his pre-award show tradition. You laid there for almost half an hour, not saying a word to each other. Your hands were touching every now and again and after a few minutes you intertwined your fingers with his, gently rubbing circles on his hand with your thumb.

Once the eye masks had been on for half an hour you both gently pulled them off and Gwilym turned off the mediation music. You emptied your flutes and quickly poured another glass. The silence between you had been broken too and you spent too much time gushing about the other guys. They were much nicer than you had expected. Once again you emptied your glass. It was your fourth glass of champagne and at this point the whole bottle was completely empty and you could definitely feel that you had gotten a bit tipsier than you had planned.

"I want you, Gwil" you bluntly said gently pulling on his t-shirt to bring him closer to you.

"Baby, you're drunk. I'm not going to touch you when you're drunk" he softly spoke.

You whined in response and tried to pull him a little closer to you.

"Please Gwilym - I need you. I'm not even all that drunk" you moaned. You weren't really all that drunk, tipsy yeah, but not drunk. Gwilym softly kissed your lips and ran his hand through your hair.

"Are you sure, baby?" he purred, obviously getting a little turned on.

"Yes.. Please. Please, Gwil!" you begged desperately. You wanted him so bad.

"Show me where you want me then"

His tone of voice was dripping with lust and his words made the muscles in your legs twitch. You slowly pulled the cover away from your body, giving Gwilym a clear vision of your still robe clad body. You played with both your of your boobs for a little while, before you softly moaned.

"I want you here" you purred and squeezed your breasts. One of your hands gently ran up you neck where you stopped for a short while, softly pressing against your throat to choke yourself a little. "And here.…"

Your hands quickly ran by our lips, where you once again repeated your words.

"And here…"

Quickly your hands went down to gently press against your aching clit.

"And here.." you moaned, bucking your hips up against your own touch.

A soft moan escaped Gwilym's lips, which gained a smirk from you. You kept rubbing yourself through your panties, patiently waiting for Gwilym to take over - but he didn't.

"Gwil.." you moaned, locking your eyes in with his.

"I want to see how you make yourself feel good baby, can you show me?" he moaned in your ear, before kissing the shell of it.

His words made the hairs on your arms rise. You quickly nodded and before you could even register it, you had ripped your panties off, now sliding your fingers in your slick folds, collecting some of your wetness, before your fingers went back to rub your clit.

"My God" Gwilym breathlessly moaned, almost dropping his jaw at the sight of you.

His soft voice boosted your confidence. You slid one of your hands in under your robe to gently play with your nipple, while your other hand was still working hard to get you to your climax. You had never gotten yourself so close to a release that fast, but Gwilym's eyes completely glued to your body really helped you.

"Gwil.. I'm close" you moaned, closing your eyes to let yourself completely disappear into the intense pleasure.

"Cum for me baby. Let me hear those pretty little sounds" he purred, once again running his hands through your hair.

That last touch from him and his sulky voice was tipping point for you. Your leg muscles spasmed as your orgasm hit you like a train. You whined and moaned incoherent words, while firmly rubbing yourself through your orgasm.

As you came down from your high, you removed our fingers from your body again, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed that you had just gotten yourself off in front of him.

"I.. Wow. You're amazing." Gwilym gasped and pulled you in for a kiss.

You breathlessly laughed against his lips before you fell back on your back, exhausted from your orgasm. You rolled on your side and popped up on your elbow and your gaze quickly got caught by the growing bulge in Gwilym's sweats.

"Oh my, what is going on down here?" you teased, running a single finger over his clothed length.

"I'm sorry.. It's hard to control yourself when you're looking at the woman you love" he bluntly said.

You didn't even know what to say. Did he just say that he loved you? You weren't even officially a thing yet - hell you had only known each other for a week! It quickly seemed like Gwilym hadn't really thought his sentence through, as a slight look of panic seemed to beam out of his eyes.

"That was too much, wasn't it? I'm really sorry, I just wanted-"

You caught him off with a firm kiss on his lips. You were still absolutely flabbergasted and instead of trying to figure out what to say, you decided to show him what you felt instead, kissing him more hungrily than ever.

"It was perfect, Gwil" you whispered against his lips, before you gave him another soft kiss.

"I, uh.. I bought something else when I got us those eye masks" he admitted and slowly wiggled out of the bed, grabbing the white plastic bag from earlier. He pulled out a box of condoms, which made you chuckle.

"My oh my" you laughed. He placed the box on the bedside table, crawling back into bed.

You tugged on his shirt, asking him to finally take it off and he quickly followed your order. Shortly after he pulled his sweats off and you followed him, pulling your gown off and throwing it onto the floor. You were completely naked by now and Gwilym was still in his underwear.

You reached down and palmed his cock through his underwear, earning a throaty groan from him. You snaked your hands into his underwear and firmly wrapped your fingers around his member, slowly jacking him off.

"Babe.. Please. I just want to be inside you and I.. I'm afraid I won't last long" he shyly admitted, ridding himself of his last item of clothing. You replied with a slick smile and grabbed his jaw to pull him close to your mouth to place yet another kiss on him.

"Then get on with it, you" you laughed. You wanted him so bad and you weren't really in the mood for teasing or waiting. You just wanted him right now. He returned your kiss and within seconds he had opened the box of condoms and rolled one onto his length.

"Prone bone?" he whispered against your ear. In the back of your mind you really just wanted some pure vanilla missionary sex, so you could look at his face while he fucked you, but the prone bone position held a soft spot in your heart to and since he had suggested it - who would you be to say no?

You nodded and he swiftly grabbed your hips and flipped you over. He slid his hand down your back before spreading your ass cheeks to guide his tip to your entrance. He slowly pushed in, making you moan and whimper like a mad man. He filled you up perfectly and this particular position really allowed you to feel every inch of him. Throaty moans escaped his body and he ran his hand back up your back, before grapping on to your neck, gently choking you. He gently leaned down over your body.

"Does it feel alright?" he whispered against your neck, while slowly thrusting into you, as deep as he could.

"Ye- yes!" you whimpered, already feeling the muscles in your abdomen tighten again.

"Faster.. Please" you moaned, and he heard your plea. He squeezed your neck a little tighter as he picked up his pace.

"Cl..- Close" he muttered desperately.

"Cum" you replied. Your orgasm was just around the corner. The sound of a primal groan filled the air as Gwilym spilled into the condom and the second you heard the moan from his throat, your own orgasm made you see stars. All your muscles tensed, and you just knew, that you would be sore tomorrow.

He gently pulled out of you and you softly whimpered at the loss of contact. Within seconds he had rid himself of the used condom and found his way back to bed, handing you your panties while he slid his underwear on.

Gwilym once again pulled you into his arms and gently placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I adore you - you know that?" he whispered against your hair. You responded by snuggling closer to him. You placed a single kiss on his jaw and on his cheekbone, before you rested your head against his chest.

"I love you too, Gwilym" you softly said against his chest.

_____________________________________ Thank you for reading! I’ve been thinking about doing a taglist, please message me or leave a reply here, to let me know if you would want to be tagged in my future work. Also, please please PLEASE leave feedback. Hopefully this series will have another 2 parts. One at the Oscars/the after party and one the day after.

#gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee #my work #fanfiction

112 notes · View notes

pleasantlyparker · 5 years

Text

meant to be- p.p (1)

summary: you go to a party to get close to peter parker, only to meet spider-man. what happens when you two hit it off after he takes you home?

author’s note: hi!! this is my first writing piece, i usually write poetry cause i’m not rly good this, but i’ve had the idea for forever, and i want to make it into a series. hope you enjoy!! also, i would love feedback.

warnings: mentions of panic attacks, grammar, crappy writing :))

word count: 1.7k

Parties weren’t usually your scene, but when your friend begged you to go to Liz Allen’s party, you only agreed because you knew Peter Parker was going to be there. You had hoped that you would finally get an opportunity to talk to the boy you’d been hopelessly in love with for the past six years. However, all of this was starting to backfire, as your friend abandoned you to hang with some senior, leaving you alone with no sign of Peter. You knew that he had to be wherever Liz was though. He had had a crush on her since freshman year, and it was kind of twisted that you’d liked him way before puberty gave him muscles.

You waited around by the drinks, hoping that he would turn up, but eventually, the loud noises and the crowded room were too much for you, so you opted to head outside for a breath of fresh air. You grabbed a bottle of water and weaved your way through the crowd. You began to think about how stupid it was to come to a party to try to talk a guy you knew liked someone else.

As you stepped outside, you were instantly relaxed by the lack of Flash’s loud voice, and the smell of high school boys who didn’t know what deodorant was. All you wanted to do was curl into a ball and disappear; you settled for leaning against one of the lawn chairs in Liz’s backyard. “Hey, are you alright?” a voice spoke from behind you. You looked up only to come face to face with Queen’s notorious crime fighting superhero. You internally groaned.

“Ye-Yeah” you tried to mask the nervousness in your voice with a chuckle. Only you would run into your favorite superhero in the midst of a panic attack. ”just needed a break from the party, that’s all.” He nodded letting you know that he understood. “Oh yeah, I feel you” He said as he sat down beside you. “You don’t look like much of a party-er, so what brings you here?” He voice sounded familiar, but you chalked it up to all the YouTube videos you had watched.

“Well,” you sighed, “My friend wanted me to come with her, and I agreed to, but only because I thought I was finally gonna have an opportunity to talk to this guy I like,but he’s into someone else, anyway, so I’m beginning to think it was a waste of time.” You rambled on as you realized that you were probably oversharing, but Spider-Man didn’t seem to mind, though, he seemed to be interested in your rant.

“What brings you to this party?” You asked wanting to take the attention off of you. “Well, I’m friends with Peter Parker, and he wanted me to come.” He explained.You laughed at your luck. You knew about Peter’s Stark Internship, but you didn’t know that he knew Spider-Man. “Do you know Peter?” he asked. “Yep,” You nodded. “not really well, though, even though we’ve had classes together since forever, and I’ve been crushing on him since he beat Flash in the science fair in fifth grade.” The memory of a small, scrawny Peter blushing profusely as they gave him the first place ribbon made your heart skip a beat. You had to remind yourself that none of this was healthy behavior.

“Why don’t you just talk to him? I mean you’ve had classes with him since the fifth grade.” he suggested as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Oh come on,” You gave him an incredulous glance as you watched the mask’s eyes grow bigger. “You’re friends with him. You have to know that all he talks about is Liz. He stares at her like a lovesick puppy all the time, and, well, I don’t blame him Liz is a literal angel, and I’m just average. Peter probably doesn’t even know my name.” You began fiddling with the label on your bottle of water. “Come on,” Spider-Man nudged your knee.”You never know, unless you try. I doubt Peter could ever forget a girl as pretty as you.” You sighed. “I do know that he has a thing for Liz, and I’m not going to make a fool of myself by trying to flirt with him.” “I still think you should try to talk to him. Don’t sell yourself short.” Spider-Man encouraged. You and the vigilante fell into comfortable silence.

You groaned as you read a message from your friend that you’d come to the party with.“My friend went off with some senior, and it’s late, so I have to walk home alone.” You stood up. “It was nice talking to you, Spider-Man.” You held out your hand for him to shake.

“Wait a minute,” he stopped you. “You’re not walking home by yourself, are you crazy? New York City is dangerous at night.” He rambled on. You rolled your eyes.“ I can handle myself, Spidey, and besides it’s not like I have any other option.” Spider-Man rose to his feet and dusted off non-existent grass. “I’m literally an avenger.” He deadpanned. “I can walk you home.” He offered. You thought about it for a minute, you didn’t know who was behind this mask and you were a little worried, but like he said, he was a superhero, so that had to count for something . “Ok let’s go.” You grabbed his hand and began leading him around the house to avoid causing a commotion. “Woah, woah, woah. Where are you going?” He stopped you. “Get on my back” he bent down, waiting for you to climb on. You gave him a skeptical look.

“Why?” You asked. “I’m Spider-Man.” you rolled your eyes at him. “I do the “thwip” thing.” he mimicked his signature move. “Absolutely not. I do not feel like dying tonight.” You objected. You could practically feel the masked hero roll his eyes at you. “Hey,” You placed your hand on your hip defiantly. “In my defense, I just met you like an hour ago.” He sighed. “It’s not like I’m gonna drop you.” You still weren’t buying it.“I have super strength remember, I stopped a bus with my bare hands.” He argued. “You know, in life or death situations, humans can lift up to 10 times their weight, due to high levels of adrenaline.” You stated as a matter-of-factly. “Look just get on my back, and if I drop you I promise I’ll take you to the hospital.” He joked.

“Pinky promise?” You held out your pinky for him to take. He laughed as he linked your pinkies together. “Pinky promise. Now hop on, and hold on tight.” You obliged and told him the name of your apartment building. “Cool.” He said. “I live a few blocks away from there.” You hooked your arms around his neck, and prayed that he didn’t drop you.

The “ride” to your apartment complex was like riding a roller coaster, and you kind of enjoyed it, although you wouldn’t dare admit it to the hero. “Well this is my stop.” you said as he climbed the fire escape outside of your bedroom. He bent down as he let you off of his back. He lifted his mask halfway off his face, so that he could breathe properly. The soft glow from the streetlights down below illuminated your face, as you heard soft jazz music coming from the apartment above you. A gentle breeze blew through the night carrying the sounds of the city to you. You hugged your sweater closer to your body. The masked hero lingered, not wanting to end the night, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.

“We should dance.” The words, induced by some spur of the moment need to make this feel like a fairy-tale, flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. He seemed taken aback by your suggestion. “I mean there’s music already, and what better way to end a night?” You chuckled nervously. He gave you a breathtaking smile that you wished you could photograph for later. He took your hands and wrapped them around his neck. As he placed his hands on your hips, you began to sway to the soft sounds of the saxophone. For the first time tonight, you weren’t regretting going to that stupid party. You leaned into Spider-Man’s chest and smiled. Everything about what was happening just felt so surreal, just a few hours ago you were moping around because you liked a guy that didn’t like you back, and now here you were, dancing with your favorite superhero, on your fire escape, at almost one in the morning.“You know you’re kind of like Cinderella, right.” You teased. He thought about it for a moment. “I guess that makes you Prince Charming.” He whispered in your ear. You let out a delighted laugh as he spun you around.

“That means you’d have to leave behind a glass slipper for me to be able to have to find you again.” You hummed as you breathed him in, wanting to savor every second of this interaction. You looked up at him only to find him already looking at you.You felt the blood rush to your face as he dipped you. “I guess I will then, huh?” And in an instant, Spider-Man had his hands on your waist and was kissing you. He tasted like the gummy worms from Delmar's and mint gum. To say the least, you were absolutely infatuated with the web-slinging hero. Breathlessly, you two pulled away, and you smiled at him. “I guess I’ll see you around?” You hadn’t planned for it to come out as a question, but all you could focus on at the moment was the fact that you’d just kissed Spider-Man. “Hopefully,” He smiled at you. “Sooner than you think, y/n.” You waved goodbye as he jumped to the other building and turned around to climb through your window.

As you climbed into bed, you replayed the events of the night over in your head. Smiling as you remembered swaying with Spider-Man to jazz music, and the last thing he’d said to you. At the time, you’d been so captivated by his boyish scent, and impeccable dance skills that you hadn’t noticed something huge. Something that really did mean you’d be seeing the superhero sooner than you thought. Spider-Man knew your name, and you were pretty sure you hadn’t told him.

#spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #tom hollland #meant to be

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masslessobtrusion · 3 years

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Yikes, This is the kind of shit I send to Arielle. I was freaking out. I am very distraught and worried. Scared. I think I might die. How else am I supposed to feel? I have no one to calm me down. I am left to make assumptions as to why. It’s a summary of what the last week or so has looked like. I don’t even know if I feel like this or if my brain is searching for answers because of how I feel like something is seriously wrong with my physical health and I am in panic mode. I lose touch with what is real when I have no one to keep me attached to it. Yes, I need reassertion some times. My throat and chest. I may not be able to speak much longer. But I have no human beings to talk to. I am totally flipping out. Here: These are the thoughts that go through my head. I often send them to her. It probably freaks her out. How can I not think like this? Maybe if people started treating me different? She probably wants me to die so I can stop bugging her. I want to stop bugging her too. I want this to stop. I don’t know how she feels so my mind races to wild assumptions. I’ve tried asking her about it. She won’t speak to me about it. Boundaries. She can’t explain what they are and I’m not allowed to ask about them. I never got an answer, I have brought up boundaries 2-3 times I believe. I told her I’d rather talk about why she feels the need to have them in the first place. To fix what I was doing wrong. Asked where she learned it from. No answer. I made crude statements about people and she answered with a how dare you text me when I’m sleeping. Leave me alone type of text. I apologized, I believe. I was really worried that morning. I have turned up the craziness a lot in the last week. I have been to the ER twice this week. I feel like I’m not going to be able to breathe soon. I am very anxious about going to another doctor tomorrow. My voice is about 75% gone. My pitch is becoming higher and higher as less air comes out. Burping, vomiting, is extremely difficult. I have barked at her about if she so indoctrinated by a gender studies degree that she refuses to be nice to a man who has been abusive to her, admitted it, explained why, and apologized many times. I have asked to be told about what kind of communication I am supposed to have with her. That I don’t know these things and I am in a very bad state of mind. I am in an abusive situation. I have called her names and used her as an emotional support animal/punching bag. She barely talks to me. I ask how she feels and she doesn’t talk. I don’t know if I’m hurting her. I ask. She doesn’t say.

Tell me how to communicate please. You’ve known me for 10 years and know what I’m like when I get like this, but I have NEVER been as bad as I am right now. This is on the level of the 2019 freakout. But I’m being way nicer and not saying fucked up hateful shit. I was taking a shit ton of xanax and god knows what else. Is that excuse good enough. That was a terrible fucking experience I was in the hospital for 10 days with a broken jaw and almost died. I have apologized and explained many times and barely get a response. I think she is occupied with other things in her life. Work, romance, fitness, hobbies, concerts, fun. That’s great. I don’t know if it’s intentional. I’ve explained how fear of abandonment is a big trigger of mine. I don’t feel assure about her intentions. Maybe I can do something different and learn from it, so I don’t do it to other people or her again. I have been making strides to improve my mental and physical health and it is getting worse. I sit in filth and regularly get told that I’m a worthless piece of fat shit that can’t do anything, fucking drug addict piece of shit! That’s what my Dad STILL says to me. After everything I’ve written about, there’s so much more too. He still spews hatred towards me. I have tried to put a stop to my parents abuse. This is why they hate me right now. I asked them to stop calling me fat and worthless. They refused.. I’ve told Arielle that I feel like she is cold and distant in the past. I’ve told her I felt like she can’t relate to a situation like mine because she has safety net after safety net. A loving family. A living wage job given to her. She lives in a safe wealthy area where poor people aren’t allowed. It’s a destination for the wealthy and elite. Pretending to be poor in college is a novelty for people who grew up in that area. It’s beautiful and people are nice. I loved it there. That was my experience living there for 8 years. She is a fit attractive female. She’s pretty. She feels that makes her a victim. I think that makes her one of the luckiest and most privileged humans on the planet. I fear that she is too indoctrinated to hate men or possibly considers me racist and sexist. Am I racist and sexist. Probably. I’m a lot of things. I still deserve help when I’m literally fucking dying and begging. She has the means to focus on whatever makes her happy. I just want to be around people who aren’t mean to me and will listen to my health concerns without telling me I’m crazy or on drugs. A wealthy inheritance to secure her future as well as a successful business. Will I live long enough to inherit my parent’s house and shit? I don’t know. It’s probably going to be taken by creditors or spent on drugs.

My parents control my life and refuse to admit they don’t know what they are doing. They are abusive towards me...STILL. To this very day.

I am screaming, hey this is what is going on! Help me. Tell me what to do. The doctors tell me it’s in my head. It’s allergies or anxiety and I should TRY to stop doing drugs.

Things are getting REALLY fucking bad. So, my mind is thinking of every possibility possible. Are the Indian doctors racist and dismissive towards me? Does Arielle want me to die because she feels I’m sexist and racist? Oversharing, honesty, and not having much of a filter have always been an issue for me. Every single fucking human being has told me to fuck off. When I met Arielle. I was a very different person. For real. I was such an arrogant douche when it came to how I slept with women and shit. I honestly felt like no girl wanted to date me. So, I just fucked them and acted like I didn’t want a relationship. I wanted to date Arielle early on. She was young. I flipped out on her. Cut myself and sent her pictures of it in 2011. That was bad and the only/last time I’ve done that to someone. Did she like me better when I just wanted to fuck her though. When I asked her if she wanted to have sex in 2018. Every doctor I have seen tells me to stop doing drugs. What the fuck, I’m not on fucking drugs. They took a drug test the second time I was in the ER on Friday. I can get drugs and do them IF I want. I don’t have an issue obtaining them. I’m not smoking. I’m not snorting anything. The only drugs I have done are edible marijuana and a couple of one-off benzo last month and last year. That’s not going to even contribute to these issues. If anything it would probably help greatly reduce the unpleasantness of my symptoms. Snorting or smoking heroin 100% fuck up my throat and chest. I have been explaining what has been going on.

Can you please, be here for me? I promise. I just want a human being who knows me. The appointment is tomorrow at 1145am. This is very scary. I don't have anyone to talk to. I promise. The Roxanne lady has been helpful to talk to at times. She is a bit weird sometimes, but she has listened to me for years and always talks to me. She tells me about her life too sometimes. She's an older woman from Georgia. I have talked to her on the phone. Name/number checks out with google. She is currently an estate attorney and I started talking to her in 2017-18. She didn't believe I was a heroin addict because of how I wrote or something. Thought my stories were far fetched. Years later, she told me that she found her husbands body after he shot himself and she wanted to be there for me, to give me someone to talk to.1hNot be here physically. But yeah. I'm really worried.1h1 week. You set the disappearing message time to 1 week. I just sat outside by my Mom. I feel off. There are huge bruises from the IV, they aren't healing. This has never happened before with bruises like that. I feel light headed. I told her that I know she did everything out of love. That I know she thought she was doing the right thing. She said, she messed up and started talking about how it was a very hard time for her, because her Mom died. I told her in regards to this health issue. I told her that I messed up. I have been screaming for help and I just wanted someone to help me. I told her that I might die. This is serious. She said, "oh hun...". Then, she started telling me about how she thinks I shouldn't tell the doctors I did heroin. I said that they need to know what caused this. This is serious. She said, "I know, but I think they dismiss you when you say that, just think you should try it.". I said, doctors shouldn't treat people who did drugs differently. They don't know why that person did drugs. There are doctors out there that will be compassionate towards people who did drugs. This was very stressful. Then, she demanded. "IIIII want to talk them!".1hShe still doesn't get it. 1hThis would be the most fucked up thing I have ever done to someone, in my life. It's not a manipulation tactic. I'm not making this up. This is real. I am being as honest as I can be. Please, I could just use some comfort or something. I have nothing here. Besides a cat, a hat, and a dog.23mI used the bathroom. My mom said, "I think I am going to go up and talk to them.". I said, I don't know. I don't know if that is possible or a good idea.20m4 her: I'm at work, haven't been able to reapond9mRespond9mI know10mGlad you have an appointment tomorrow9m

me: Thanks. Me too.9mBut this is it I think. I'm going to get the bad news and I've probably been right about it. It won't make me feel better.9mWould you have a bit of time to chat later. Or if there is an emergency.8m her: I might have time later4m me: I'll probably go to bed around 8-9.2m

#raised by narcissists #borderline #bpd #borderline freakout #sobriety #abusive parents #absuive me

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gvbejvmes · 3 years

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Drabble: The Kale Chronicles

Title: The Kale Chronicles (2010) Rating: PG-13 Characters: Gabriel James-Michaels, Jonathan James-Michaels, Kaleidoscope Johnson, Zacarias Fawkes Relationships: Gabe/Johnny, Kale/Zach, Gabe & Kale Summary: Did he tell you? Did he tell you we were best friends now?

2010 “Is this your first gala?” The voice surprises Gabe and he almost dumps his glass of champagne all over the man next to him. As far as Gabe can tell he’s ten, maybe fifteen years older than him. He’s caramel skin and deep brown eyes that are dragged down by wrinkles and dark circles. Gabe’s sure that in his heyday he was handsome and had his pick of partners. Now he looked sick and frail, like one wrong breath will knock him over. The wheelchair probably added to that illusion, too. And the fact that he was leaning towards one side, brightly colored pillows keeping him propped up. “Am I that obvious?” He asked with a chuckle. Being invited to the MET was one thing. Being invited to the MET Gala because you were a finalist for a permanent installation piece? That was a whole different ballgame, and Gabe had been antsy as hell since they got there. His husband had gotten pulled away by someone he knew from school almost right away, which left Gabe to be sucked into the art crowd. It wasn’t that the art crowd was a bad place to be. These were his people, after all, but he felt like an interloper. They hadn’t been in New York for very long; it didn’t feel like his scene quite yet. The man laughed. “It’s just that no one has sunk their claws into you yet. You’re Gabreel, right?” He offered his hand up for Gabe to shake. “I’m Zach. Zacarias, but don't call me that. Call me Zach. Also, I’m dying. AIDS. Well, HIV, but it’s the same difference in the end, isn’t it?” And he spoke so quickly that Gabe had a hard time keeping up with him. His accent made Gabe think of New Orleans - maybe Creole? There was a cadence to the way he spoke. The consonants and vowels didn’t line up quite the same as Gabe’s own laidback West Coast pronunciation. “I guess.” He said with a shrug. “You’re one of the other finalists, right? You made the see-through hospital bed.” Zach nodded. “Scope - that’s my partner - he said it’s a little too on the nose, but he’s bitter right now.” The other man picked at the seam on his armrest. It seemed like this was probably a point of contention between Zach and his partner. “He likes to bury his head in the sand when things get a little too tough. Anyway, he didn’t see the point in coming tonight. Said you were going to win.” That took Gabe by surprise. “Your partner doesn’t think you’re going to win? Your piece is beautiful.” And he meant it. After seeing the art he was competing against, Gabe had no idea why he was even selected. Everyone was just so talented, and his piece… Well, his piece was different than the others. They had made sculptures. Gorgeous pieces made of metals Gabe wasn’t sure how they were able to afford, and his piece was… Well, it was a prison cell with malleable bars and a painted sky. He didn’t feel like he was on the same level as the others. He shrugged. “Naw, but that’s Scope. He always tells it like it is.” The look on Zach’s face made it seem like that was his favorite thing about him. “C’mon. Come sit with me until it’s time to find out who won.” And oversharer or not, Gabe found himself following after him. A Month Later “Gabreel,” Zach was bundled under three blankets as Gabe pushed him through the walking path at the hospital. It was only in the high 60s, but Zach was freezing. His nasal cannula was pushed out of his nose. He wanted to breathe fresh air - not bottled air. The doctors hadn’t even wanted Zach out of bed, but the older man had insisted and well, he had a way about always getting his way. “Did you know Scope and I have been together almost twenty years?” That made Gabe pause for a moment as he processed that. He’d barely been married in comparison. He couldn’t imagine being with someone for 20 years. Especially as a gay man in New York in the 90s. It amazed him they were together for this long. And he wasn’t even factoring in all the stories he’d heard about Scope. “You must have been babies when you got together.” He said finally, continuing their walk. Zach nodded - or at least Gabe thought it was a nod; it could have been a cough. “Scope was barely 18. I was 29, you know. I was a very bad boy. I was ready to settle down. And Scope? Well, I think he just looked at me and thought: this one is mine now.” This time Zach did cough, and he pulled the cannula back into his nose for a bit before he was able to talk again. “Scope broke up with me last week. Think he thought it would be easier - not to watch me die.” He didn’t know how to respond to that. “Zach…” And what was he going to say? That he wasn’t dying? He was. That Scope was being a chicken? He probably would have done the same. He couldn’t fault him, but he also couldn’t comprehend breaking up with someone you loved so deeply. “Don’t try, Gabreel.” Zach murmured out as he fiddled with one of his blankets. “This hasn’t been easy for him. We didn’t know my status until much later into our relationship. We’ve had more scares than you know. I ate clean, did what I could to stay healthy, but our friends? Their luck weren’t so great. They died one after the other. And I… I just didn’t. For a while I think he just thought it was a false positive and then this year…” He gave a dry sounding laugh. “This year it reared its ugly head with a vengeance. I’ll be gone by Christmas - don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. And I need you to promise me something.” And he knew - he knew what the promise was going to be. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and yet he still found himself saying: “Anything.” A few months later “Kaleidoscope? It’s Gabriel. We’ve met a couple of times at the hospital? I’m Zach’s friend. I’ve been taking him to his appointments for that study he was participating in.” Gabe wasn’t sure what he would be walking into. From what Zach had told him during their brief friendship, Kaleidoscope had run away to the city at a young age, and their friend group had been… wild. Other than a woman named Katie, Zach and Kaleidoscope were the last ones standing. Drugs and HIV had wiped out the rest. And now? Now it was just Kaleidoscope. The entire condo was pitch black. As Gabe traversed further inside, he turned on lights and opened windows to air the place out. It smelled like the other man had been in mourning for a lot longer than the week Zach had been gone. Zach had warned Gabe that Kaleidoscope could come off as being… a lot. He had a big personality, but a lot of it was manufactured. It had been created to deal with his many losses, and Zach had begged Gabe to see through him. And Gabe’s plan was to hold true to that promise. When it came to promises to the dead, Gabe was a sucker. “Scope, I know you’re home.” He called out, walking until he found the kitchen. Once it was aired out, he grabbed a trash bag to conquer the living room. “And I know you know what today is. And we both know you’re going today.” He poked at a congealed mess stuck to some magazines and just tossed the entire thing into the garbage bag. Room accomplished, he set the bag out in the hallway for now before making his way deeper into the condo. “I’m coming in.” He all but kicked the door open to find Kaleidoscope half-dressed and lying in the middle of the bed. “I finally understand what the point of that stupid Jonathan Larsen musical is now.” He said apropos to nothing. “I am now the only one to survive.” “On a scale of 1-5, how stoned are you right now?” Gabe asked as he approached the bed and got Kaleidoscope into a sitting position. “Yeah, you’re going to need to shower.” As he shifted Kaleidoscope to his feet, the other man grabbed Gabe’s wrist. “He said he picked you out for me.” And great. He was drunk and stoned. The perfect combination for a funeral. “He said you were lonely, too. You lost everyone, too. He said we would be best friends. Did he tell you? Did he tell you we were best friends now?” And he hadn’t, but that made sense. He had been dying and he just wanted to make sure his partner was taken care of. “Yeah, Scope.” He conceded. “We’re best friends now.” And it would be one of the last times he’d call him that. The name would remind both of them too much of Zach. But in that moment Gabe knew it was true - they were going to be best friends whether Gabe liked it or not. Towards the end of the year When Gabe got the invitation to attend the dinner party at Kaledescope’s place, he had a moment where he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. First, it was his first party since his partner passed away, and second, it was Jay’s first social event with the Collective. It wasn’t like he was hiding his husband from them. It was more like… he knew how his friends were, and he knew how his husband was. They were completely different personalities and he didn’t know how well they were going to mesh, but he figured he could only put it off for so long. They had barely walked into the condo when Katie grabbed him. “You need to talk to your friend.” Katie had known Kaleidoscope longer, but she never actually considered them friends. He was her big brother’s friend - that was how she told it. “He’s lost his mind.” All he can do is shoot Jay an apologetic look before he’s pulled deeper into the condo. Although condo is a loose term. One of four units on the floor of a luxury building is a better word. And she’s not wrong. The condo was huge, and yet there seemed to be people everywhere. This was definitely not the quiet dinner party he had been promised. It was like the other man had switched from being in mourning to being a party animal overnight. He honestly didn’t know how he had turned into Kaleidoscope’s keeper. He’d barely known the man when he had decided they were best friends, and word had spread to everyone else they knew. Apparently Gabe was the only person remotely capable of dealing with Kaleidoscope’s mood swings. Or maybe it was because everyone else they knew had only known Kaleidoscope when it was Zach + Scope. They didn’t know how to deal with a man who was spiraling out of control now that he was alone. Gabe had only known Zach for a brief period of time, but the version of Scope that Gabe had met was the one who was slowly going crazy from loss. And that was how Gabe found himself walking into Kaleidoscope's bedroom - where he was in the middle of a threesome with two blonde tan men. He’s not sure where it comes from, but he slammed the door shut and closed his eyes. “Ken Doll 1 and Ken Doll 2 - beat it.” It must be the tone of his voice - or maybe they were startled by the slamming of the door. Either way the two men all but scrambled out of the bed and into their clothes. Neither of them looked at Gabe before leaving him alone with Kaleidoscope. “I didn’t think you would be a spoil sport.” Kaleidoscope grumbled out - and there was the sound of him putting his clothes back on. “Weren’t you the one who said I shouldn’t be holing myself up in here? That it’s been six months since Zach died and I needed to get out and re-embrace the world?” It was physically taking everything in him to not open his eyes. “I didn’t mean to throw keggers and have orgies.” He defended before deciding to finally open his eyes. “I meant taking walks or opening your art software and painting again. Scope.” “Don’t call me that.” And it was a growl more than anything else. “I’m rebranding. I’m now just Kaleidoscope. You can call me Kale.” And it sounded like he had just decided that part. “My friends can call me Kale. Where’s your wife?” Gabe couldn’t help but to stare at him. “My ex-wife?” He tried to clarify - not fully able to keep up with the sudden change in conversation. “She’s in Roswell with my kids?” Kale sighed dramatically. “No. Your new wife.” He waved an impatient hand at Gabe. “You said you were married.” It took him a moment to realize where the confusion was coming from. Same-sex partnerships were legal in New York, but marriage licenses weren’t being issued yet. Same-sex marriages from other states, however, were still being recognized in New York. “Yes.” He said slowly, mostly because he didn’t know what Kale’s reaction was going to be. “I am married, but I don’t have a wife. I have a husband, and he’s with Katie I think.” And all that fake bravado and the new personality fell off his face for a moment. “You married your partner.” And he sounded small. He’d been with the same man for 20 years, but marriage… that had been off the table for them. “What’s his name?” The question was strange, but he found himself answering anyway. “Johnny. Well, Jonathan.” And he didn’t know why Kale needed to know, but he felt like it was part of his coping process. Kale nodded and then as suddenly as it had left, the fake persona was back. “Let’s go meet your Jonathan.”

#drabble #pairing: Gabe/Johnny #relationship: Gabe & Kale

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euph0rictulips · 7 years

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Oversharing Asks (Disclaimer: These questions are very personal and may touch on sensitive subjects; you may want to look over them before reblogging. You can strike out or totally delete questions you don’t want to deal with.) Who hurt you the most? My father, the worst thing is he didn't abandon me, he stayed and tortured my mind my entire life. Who have you hurt the most? My mother; I don't exactly win daughter of the year award. Yeah. We all fuck up. Who do you miss the most? God. I miss the connection we had before I became a fuckup in life. Otherwise, probably my old friend Flynn. Who do you want out of your life the most? Honestly, I just want me. I don't want anymore. And I don't want anyone to want me anymore either. I'm so sick of ruining myself for peoples attention. I just want me and the love I can give to myself the most. Who had the biggest positive impact on you? My boyfriend Casey; I didn't believe him the first time he called me pretty. I was genuinely in shock and thought about it the entire day. Now I get offended if someone doesn't call me pretty. Who had the biggest negative impact on you? Again, probably either my father or mother. But father overall because my mother was doing it all for the right reasons and intended the best for me. Can't say the same for daddy. Who do you wish you could be honest with? My mother. I wish I could be able to tell her anything; about boys, things I like, bad decisions, good choices, any thing. But I can't. Maybe I will one day. Who have you harbored (any kind of!) secret feelings towards? No one anymore, this answer would probably be reserved for an old crush Isaac who I sometimes wonder about from time to time. Otherwise I have a boyfriend. Who would the world be better off without? No one. We're on this earth for a reason. But if you want a physical manifestation of the term SHUT the fuck up; Paige Tregenza. Who do you wish you’d treated differently? My siblings. Maybe if I wasn't so obsessed with myself I could give them all the love that had also been taken away from them and have the strongest connection with them if not with my parents. What was the worst day of your life? There's a lot of days which could come to mind. The day I was forced to break up with my boyfriend. The day my father pulled a knife out on my mother and told the kids to go upstairs. The day I found out my mother had been in a car crash and my father wouldn't let the kids answer the phone because we had to behave. The day I didn't care whether I wanted to live or not. What’s your greatest fear? That I'm never going to be successful and get anywhere in life; that each day, I'm doing nothing with my life and will end up making no one proud. That's why talking about the future immediately causes me to shut down. What’s your biggest insecurity? Probably my body, I'm always insecure of it no matter what, it's been such a constant staple in my life that I don't know how not to be disgusted with my body. Otherwise, when people think of me as shallow or just stupid, because I'm smart and lovely and mature. What’s your biggest regret? My cowardice with anything. I could be so much more than I am right now but because of my laziness, my procrastination and my fears, I waste my life and there's nothing more i regret than the opportunities I missed because I was afraid i wasn't good enough. Describe your ideal world. It's a quaint place. At least, in my head. The people are sweet, driven. Going places. The world is always calm, there's no talk of wars or dying children suffering in poverty, or abandoned kids and psychotic breaks. Everyone speaks in old English, and wears elegant and bold dresses. Art is everywhere; in every form. Music tinkles from every place, religion and ethics and philosophy are viewed with open-mindedness. People don't judge anymore. Dreams are being fulfilled. Promises are kept and everyone is honest. Sunsets can be seen from anywhere and there are regular community picnics. Knowledge is the most powerful thing known to human kind. Love is the most beautiful emotion. I'm an artist living at home in the city, married to my beautiful husband with four children. We're financially stable. God is in our lives. Everything is balanced. Describe your personal hell. Waking up one day without a home. Finding an old wrinkled newspaper on the street with a fellow colleagues name plastered on the front in bold text, applauding his efforts and talents, whilst I freeze on the street. I'm working three jobs to get by. I'm married off to a person I don't even love and it ends up in divorce, and I'm never able to trust anyone ever again to find and fall in love again. My mother died years ago. My father abandoned us then. My siblings hardly care enough to keep contact anymore. I've forgotten what it was like to ask for mercy from God. I end up nowhere, I end up with no one. I end up all alone. What’s a hopeless dream you’re still holding on to? More of a daydream, but having both parents pick me up from school and take me out to a restaurant for my birthday, and tell me that for once, they're proud of the amazing young women I grew up to be as they smile and grasp my hands, pride evident in their eyes. What’s the angriest you’ve ever been? Many instances where I have screamed at the top of my lungs at my father for even attempting to abuse my family or myself, but most recently, at a certain group of boys at my school for treating everyone like shit and constantly bullying and providing backhanded comments about everyone in the grade. What’s the saddest you’ve ever been? Can anyone provide one single example for this answer? I am sad many days, some days I am so sad that I begin to lose sight of who I am. Some days I drown in my sadness, and other days I can't even remember for everything is blurred. What’s the most scared you’ve ever been? Excluding any horror rides or scary movies, probably when I disobeyed my mother and knew I was going to arrive home late and get in trouble for her finding out that I disobeyed her, and I honestly felt like running away from home because i was that scared What’s the most hopeless you’ve ever felt? All the mornings I'd wake up to screams and declarations of I hate you's and curses coming from the kitchen, and trying to stop all the screaming and hitting and fighting and only being shoved into my room with firm orders not to speak. I have never felt more futile than I have trying to protect the few people I have left that I love the most. What’s the most frantic you’ve ever felt? Again, always with my mother. I swear she's the only woman who can make me feel pure fear. Because it isn't some shallow, heartbeat quickening fear which I can recover from in mere seconds, but an anxiety creating, nerve wracking, horrid experience especially when you break someone's trust and they end up finding out, and you sit there watching the pain in their eyes. What’s the bravest you’ve ever felt? Well most recently, after I conquered absailing which is basically my biggest materialistic fear after spiders and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't do it and I didn't want to come down and I eventually did even after all the yelling and begging and I felt like a badass (pretty knocked up and anxious nonetheless) muthafucker but hey I did it What’s the most physical pain you’ve ever felt? I can't remember but either when I dislocated my knee for the first time and had to spend weeks in bed because it hurt too much to even move it, or when I got hepatitis and got a stomach ulcer and spent three days in the hospital because I couldn't breathe or walk What’s the most emotional pain you’ve ever felt? Again, so many instances. All the days when my father told me I wasn't good enough and told me to kill my self and I spent long nights stifling the sobs that wracked my entire body, or the time I broke my mother's trust the first time and she cried in my arms and I never wanted her to feel that way ever again. Or the day my mother told me I had to break up with my boyfriend, I don't think I've ever cried more in my life. Describe a time you felt like a hypocrite. Most recently, I would get absolutely furious with my boyfriend for even just hugging another girl who was his best friend, yet I would chat up and flirt with at least 20+ guys in a mildly flirty tone and expected him to not be angry with me even though he had every single right to be. I don't do it anymore though, I love him Describe a time you felt like a traitor. I'm always a traitor, I'm a slippery slimy snake who can't be trusted xxx Describe a time you felt like a hero. I know I've helped at least 4 people from committing or even thinking about committing suicide or having negative thoughts which I'm very proud of. Describe a time you felt inhuman. Basically any time I am riding in the car at dark and I can basically taste the air and wind in my hair and I can see the night stars from the open window and I feel amazing and the most human yet as if I'm not even on this world Describe a time you felt like a failure. Just when my mother told me she wishes I was never born as her daughter so she wouldn't have to deal with me, that really made me re-evaluate my life. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Broken my mothers trust on 10+ occasions and still tell her I love her What are you proudest of? Probably the day I found out I got both house captain AND student leader despite being told roughly 6 months ago that I'd never been an eligible candidate because I was dealing with many issues and mental problems. What’s your relationship with your family like? Well, it's actually not that bad. I love them with all my heart, even my abusive father. They are all i have in this world. What’s your relationship with religion like? I wish I could be as close to God as I was. Now I find no need to, yet I desperately want to reconnect to him and talk to God, but I've messed up so bad. Where do I even start? Talk about someone you’ve lost. My 8 year old cousin drowned when I was 10 or 11, and it was awful now thinking back upon it. Have you ever self-harmed? Yeah, I've cut my left wrist once and tried my finger once too. I stopped 2 weeks after. Have you ever attempted suicide? No, and I never plan to. Despite anyrhing going on in my life, no matter how bad it gets, it will always get better and I may feel futile sometimes, but the days which I experience true happiness will always outweigh any measure of sadness in my life. Suicide is what stupid, cowardly people do. But I've had many dreams, countless dreams of me pulling the trigger to a gun on my head or drowning myself, and even visions of me hanging myself. I don't know why. I don't have any intention to. Have you ever stolen something? Yes, on many occasions. I would regularly shoplift just because I couldn't be fucked but stopped once I realized how bad and horrible it was. Have you ever cheated on someone? If flirting is cheating, then yes, I have. But I have regretted it every single time. I would never do anything serious. I only flirted because it meant nothing to me. Have you ever been cheated on? Never and I hope I never do get cheated on, and that somebody abuses my trust like that. Have you ever taken revenge on someone? No, not really, I've made a few people cry on some occasions because of stuff I "accidentally" told them that I knew would upset them, but nothing too serious to ever hurt them Have you ever seriously considered killing somone? Many times, on many occasions. Haven't you? Have you ever betrayed someone who trusted you? My mother. And she forgave me every single fucking time. And I kept doing it. I really don't deserve this woman.

- me, like me or don't

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