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clockwayswrites · 8 months

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Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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frosted-night · 3 years

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Jack Frost Designs Review

Yes it’s finally his time. This is going to include his book designs including previous incarnations in said books. There are more movie concept designs than book so, let’s dig in shall we?

This was in fact the first ever Jack Joyce designed while he came up with The Guardians Of Childhood. He even comes with his own backstory! (Which was cut. Sorry Joyce posts walls of text so it’s a girthy read.)

So instead of a young mischievous trickster, we got a much more depressing story of Jack. (Jack by default is sad obviously) but this one... It kind of hits differently and almost reminds me of the story he crafted for Pitch. A dad who tried to defend his family but through tragic events was ripped from them and changed completely. Design wise, he’s a lot more tree than snow. There doesn’t exist a colored version of this so we’ll never know if he sported winter and dull dead leaf colors rather than grassy greens.This Jack has a weird presence to him, I can’t put my finger on it. Rating: 6/10 He’s really neat! Just a little too Autumn feeling rather than a blend of both Autumn and Winter.

Nightlight feels like the baby evolution if Jack was a pokemon and that's what I’m gonna stick with. Below is a more recent version of him colored.

In all honesty that one is easier on the eyes proportion wise because sometimes Joyce has ‘interesting’ anatomy choices but we aint going into that today. It’s interesting how his hair somehow looks shorter and longer than Jack’s at the same time. Could be because the longer strands float seamlessly but star boy hair physics what can ya do. It’s a little hard to tell what is his skin and what is his armor, so that is a casuality in making a character only have one or two colors in their color scheme. I love other artist’s depictions of Nightlight but the canon one feels a little weak color wise. Rating: 5/10 Sorry, get some better LEDs and then come back.

Here we have a book Jack but I can’t entirely recall if this was used in the books or not. I digress. This design looks like him still wearing very Nightlight-esque armor/clothing and slowly growing into his new persona as Jack Frost. The intricacies are hard to make out but we’ll work with it. This one is very interesting to me because he very much looks like an older teen close to young adult. His hair looks very fluffy too. Not many complaints about this one but not much praise either.

Rating: 6/10 Not great but doesn’t stand out that much.

Remember when I said Joyce had ‘interesting’ anatomy decisions? Jack looks like he has half a head here and it bothers me GREATLY. This is the adult Jack design he went with. Supposedly he likes the opera and he sure looks it. This! Exists!! Kind of wish it didn’t. The outfit is nice but it just doesn’t fit Jack as a whole. This just screams to me that it’s someone else with a similar-ish hairstyle.

Rating: 3/10 Guess he’d be the...Phantom Of The Opera. (I’ll go home and so should he.)

And finally the final Jack. This is the one that almost exactly resembles the Jack we got in the movies(Probably because it was made after the movie but w/e) but just add a cape on him. I can’t really tell if hes got a hoodie and a cape, or just a cloak+hood on top of a sweatshirt. It isn’t too important because my thoughts on this one are obvious. Rating: 10/10 Edna Mode would have a field day with you boy.

MOVIE DESIGN TIME

Joyce claims this is a design he drafted when Leonardo DiCaprio was considered to voice Jack and I can kind of see that with how his face is drawn here. This Jack looks a lot more like a warrior and less of that trickster look. I can’t say I’m a fan of the weird antenna his hood has but his sword is really cool looking.

Rating: 4/10 Nice bow and sword but it can’t save your fashion choices.

This looks like a lanky 11-13 year old who would put rocks or slugs in my shoes and relish in my disgust. He has the exact look of a snot nose kid and I’m unsure how to feel about it.

His various hairstyles drafted here sort of make him softer looking or just more of a snot nose, no in between. Maybe even an Anime Protagonist.

The top right one almost looks like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon if you squint. It’ll be a little hard to rate them all as one individual but why not.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate them but they aren’t my cup of tea.

AH- IS THAT A FUCKIN GREMLIN?

Oh wait no it isn’t he looks like a 10 year old. Whatever don’t feed him after midnight. The staff’s design of not being shaped like a G is an interesting tidbit but the whole design looks like he’s really young or like a troll etc. This Jack looks like he thinks girls have cooties uses outdated slang.

Rating: 4/10 This is me being generous.

It honestly looks like he hiked his pants up all the way to his chest. A late teen with horrid fashion choices once again. Not many other thoughts here.

Rating: 2/10 Get a sweater on or something.

This is one is very interesting looking to me. His clothes looked a lot more leather based and very human-like. The tatters, tears and frays all make him look like he was a victim of an accident that never changed his clothes. It makes me wonder if this Jack had the same death as the final movie Jack or something else entirely. Either way, this one looks like hes a mid to late teen which really adds to my intrigue.

This was another image that greatly resembled the design so I included it here. It almost looks like his skin is blue here which is pretty neat to me at least. He’s also got leaf motifs here, which from the first Jack design Joyce made, we can see a pattern here.

Rating: 8 /10 I was originally weirded out by his head but now its not so bad.

This Jack is definitely dressed more like a nature boy rather than him having human influenced fashion and it’s an appealing touch. The tiny leaf sprouting from his staff is also kind of cute since the designers seemed to want to put leafs somewhere on his designs. His hairstyle is also very cute but it reminds me of Sasuke Uchiha in a sense. (Not a setback for me at least)

Rating: 7/10 13 year old Jack is going thru a phase.

I thought this Jack didn’t show up again in story boards but I was wrong!

They look a little different from each other but just similar enough to pair together, so bare with me. The first one obviously has looser pants, slightly longer sleeves and got his leaf motif going. This second Jack is a VERY green. It gives the impression that this Jack made his clothes out of plants and natural materials. Again I’m not wholly sure if greens fit his color scheme but they sure went for it for a while. I can’t say I’m a fan of it because it heavily reminds me of Peter Pan.

However a very similar looking Jack could be found in this storyboard. It doesn’t look as green as the other storyboards made it out to be and looks more like dead grass. Which is a pretty nice touch.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate it but it just doesn’t vibe yknow.

Speaking of a vibe...hoo this certainly has one. This Jack isn’t old but certainly doesn’t look very young, maybe in the 20-30 range, thats just me. He has facial features that remind me of Pitch but resembles the Jack Frost of Santa Clause 3

That being said, I wondered if him looking similar to Pitch was in the storyline of them being brothers.(Which was a scrapped thing, who knew.) He’s a bit more menacing in this design but certainly seems like he relishes in his work.

Rating: 4/10 I’d make it a lower score but I gotta give it props

NOW THIS JACK IS KINDA INTERESTING. This one looks like he’s 16 and going through a grunge phase. He’s gonna play Nirvana loudly and not turn it down even if you tell him too. His staff itself has mini icicles hanging off of it and leafs look stuck to his shirt. Did you glue or staple those on Jack? His hair also looks much longer than his other designs and I kind of dig it( Shut up I’m bias.) I’m not wholly sure why else this design has stuck with me but it just has something about it that I just love. I wish there was a full body drawing of it.

(He also kinda has the same hair as the Jack Frost in Runescape but I wont go on about that hoo hoo)

Rating: 9/10 *Bad Boy by Cascada plays in the distance*

This one definitely feels like middleschooler trying to be in a band. His sticks just resemble drumsticks to me what can I say. I’m a big fan of his shoes and his color scheme screams a hibernating tree in winter. His hair also looks like it’s covered in frost rather than it being wholly white, which is very neat!! He looks like he wants to fight but has slight hesitance. Overall a very balanced Jack.

Rating: 8/10 He’s ready for band practice

Not many thoughts here, I just found these tiny Jack designs cute. His hoodie being a jacket instead just adds to the charm of this one.

No talk to him he angy.

Rating: 6/10 fun sized boi

Now this Jack resembles the one earlier that dressed entirely in leather brown colors, however he clearly is different than that one. I’m gonna say it, he looks like a zombie or undead in this design and its pretty fucking gnarly. I don’t know whats going on with his hair but I’m gonna assume it’s just the wind making it look like that. He just has the vibe that he was once human but was turned into something else entirely. It isnt in uncanny territory but borders that. This version of Jack meeting Pitch and the others would have been *very* interesting. Rating: 7/10 Eat a twinkie Jack you’ll feel better.

The final design! I can’t complain much about this one. The way his staff subtly has a G shape and a hexagon(his signature shape) is a wonderful touch. Additionally, the way the frost is gathered mostly where his hand is such an intricate detail. His signature hoodie is iconic at this point so I can’t bad mouth that either.(I can’t anyway because there's no complaints from me here.) Although, I never understood the leather straps that his pants had or their functions. I couldn’t find any colonial outfits that resembled Jack’s pants so its a total mystery to me at least.

And I can’t go on about this design until I mention the snowflake pattern in his eyes

Pure beauty. It’s at a hue of blue that almost looks impossible to have, combined with the electric blue color of the snowflake in his eyes. The amount of detail in this movie amazes me to this day. Rating: One Great Blizzard <3/10

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

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Tangled planning

Prompt: kiss the girl

Follows Making Magic

My masterlist

Roy was in the kitchen working on dinner for him and Lian. Jason had watched her for the afternoon and she was in her room coloring in the new notebook he had gotten her. He was impressed with how the place looked today. Usually Jason could barely manage to get her to pick up the legos and would try to hide that she convinced him to get her ice cream but the place actually looked like they had cleaned it some. She did have leftover ice cream bits on her face and had managed to talk Jason into the glittery notebook with the puff ball pen but they also had come back from the farmers’ market with fresh vegetables.

Lian ran out of her room when there was a knock at the door. Roy had to wipe off his hands before he could walk over and answer it. Jason had left his jacket, but he would usually knock and enter. Showing up right at dinner time would definitely be his move though. Lian was bouncing impatiently waiting for him to open the door, knowing that he wouldn’t let her open it on her own.

“Come on! Hurry.” she urged.

“I’m coming, Sweet Pea.”

Roy opened the door and was shocked to find Marinette there waiting. She had something in a wrapped container and flowers in a paper wrap. Lian did not seem shocked to see her. She lunged at Marinette’s legs and Roy reached out to steady her so the force of his daughter wouldn’t knock her off her feet. Lian didn't notice she pulled Marinette inside, talking excitedly.

“You came! Come in. I want to show you my room.”

---

Marinette was nervous when she got to the door. She wasn’t sure what to bring but her mother had always taught her to bring something with her. She had made a lemon tart and brought the excess flowers that she had bought at the farmers’ market. There were too many to look right at her place and she hoped that Roy and Lian would appreciate them. She had tried to arrange them as she had with her own bouquet and she tied them with a red ribbon. She had noticed that Lian seemed to like red things so she hoped that would be appreciated.

When Roy opened the door, it was very clear that he was shocked to see her. Lian and her uncle had invited her over and the man had been on his phone. Marinette assumed he had cleared it before she had agreed but she felt very much like one of them was being pranked. Lian was happy though and Marinette didn’t want to run out on her right away. She would simply have to stage a reason to cut out early. She would just let the girl get her excitement out and then find a reason to leave before it got any more awkward.

---

It was pretty clear to Roy what had happened after hearing Lian’s excitement. She and Jason must have run into her while they were out and invited her. Jason probably thought he was hilarious not telling him that he invited a woman to his apartment, at least he had the decency to make sure that Roy’s place wasn’t a disaster. The place was unusually well put together for how it tended to look after Jason was with Lian for the day. Jason probably only managed to get her to help him by using her excitement about Marinette.

“I brought a lemon tart. I wasn’t sure what you guys would like.”

Roy took the pastry from her and set it out on the counter. It looked great. He wondered if she had made it. It looked professionally done with an arrow pattern dusted on the top. She was biting her lip and looking around. She glanced down at her phone while Lian was gushing over the flowers. The girl wanted to spread them all over the room.

“This looks really good. I like the arrows. Lian, did you see the design?”

“It is arrows. Just like Arsenal has. Did you make that? I want to eat it all.”

“I did make it. I remembered that you liked Arsenal."

"He is the best one." The girl turned to Roy, "Can we put the flowers in my vase? They are for me, not you."

"Sure. Give me a minute to remember where I put it."

Roy stepped away. He took a moment to stir the food and then opened the cupboards until he had found her vase. She was telling Marinette all about how he had bought her flowers for Valentine's day and she got to keep the vase. Roy tried to get flowers periodically to put in it because it always made the girl so happy. He wiped off the dust and filled it with water.

When he turned back he froze watching Marinette braiding Lian's hair and adding flowers. He had a strong desire to do the same to her hair. It would probably be inappropriate to suggest that he braid her hair again. He imagined the flowers would look beautiful in her hair too.

---

Marinette focused everything on Lian so she wouldn't feel like she was interfering with Roy's evening. The flowers had reminded Lian of Rapunzel so Marinette offered to braid her hair and put flowers in the braid. Roy was moving around in the kitchen. He checked on the food and then moved things around in the cupboards until he found the vase. Lian was talking about all the flowers that Roy had gotten her in the months since he gave her the vase. It was so adorable that Marinette couldn't handle it. Luckily the braid was finished and Lian was zipping around to get the vase and put the flowers in.

"Daddy, look at my hair. Do I look just like Rapunzel? Can we watch it after dinner?"

"I think that sounds like an excellent plan," he said.

Marinette picked the flowers back up to get them in the vase. Her fingers brushed Roy's as he moved to take them from her. She couldn't help but look at him when their fingers brushed. Their eyes met just for a second before he turned his attention back to his daughter. Marinette both loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked to her. She imagined what it would be like if he were to smile so brightly at her. Her knees got weak just watching the gentleness that touched his face when watching his daughter.

She was lost in her own head for a moment when Lian literally pulled her out of it to show her her bedroom. Roy said he would be right in the kitchen and that he would tell Lian when it was time to wash up before they ate. Marinette was reminded a lot of Manon when Lian started telling her about all her favorite things. She showed her the new notebook and the pictures she drew and the pen with the pom pom that she apparently convinced her uncle to get for her after Roy had said it cost too much.

Marinette was smiling at the pictures she drew as the girl continued to talk about school and all the things she liked to do. Her favorite was swinging and she had even jumped off the swing for the first time today at the park. Then she pulled out her prized possession. Marinette smiled. It was an Arsenal figurine. She smiled remembering how excited Lian was to see Marinette in the costume. That vigilante definitely had a number one fan.

---

Roy paused in the doorway to watch Marinette interact with his daughter. It definitely wasn't just to mentally save the image of her holding the figure of Arsenal. She looked over at him and he made sure his face didn't show what he was thinking, not that she knew he was Arsenal. He made sure Lian would never tell anyone. She handed the toy back to Lian and kissed her on the head. The way she checked her purse and looked around, made him feel like she was getting ready to leave. He stepped back against the door frame to let her pass. He could have stepped out of the doorway fully but he couldn't get himself to pass up the moment of closeness he got when she passed. She didn’t look at him. He wished he could reach out and touch her, run his hands through her hair. But while she had seemed delighted to see Lian, she was merely friendly with him. He wished for more. It was too easy to see her fitting into their lives. She was beautiful and sweet and doted on Lian.

“Stop!” Lian shouted.

They both paused in the doorway and looked back over at her. Roy wasn’t sure what had happened. Maybe she could sense that Marinette was preparing to go rather than spending the evening with them like she wanted. He held his breath with Marinette so close. She was only looking at his daughter, Roy looked too. Lian was pointing up over the frame. He and Marinette looked up together. Hanging over the door, not so innocently, was a bit of mistletoe. He held in his groan at what was clearly Jason’s interference. He looked back at his daughter. She was smiling so big but Marinette hadn’t reacted yet. He didn’t know what she would think about the set up. Surprise mistletoe is definitely not how he wanted their first kiss to be. He wasn’t ready to think about the fact that he had preferences for what he wanted their ‘first kiss’ to be.

---

Marinette was startled to see the mistletoe. She was guessing, based on the fact that it was in the girl’s room where it wouldn’t be seen that Roy was just as surprised as her by the new decoration. She was starting to think that Uncle Jason was encouraging Lian’s ornery streak. But Lian was watching them and her eyes were so excited Marinette figured a little kiss on the cheek would be okay. She was French so it was pretty easy for her to get there. She figured that Roy would probably understand the gesture to not disappoint his daughter. She would just be brief and not follow if he pulled away. His cheek was already facing her as he was looking at Lian so Marinette pushed herself up and leaned into his face. Her hand lightly pushed on his chest as she leaned up and that is when he turned to her. Rather than a kiss on the cheek, her lips met his.

---

Roy turned back towards Marinette to tell her that she didn’t have to give in to his daughter’s every whim. He loved to make the girl happy but he would clearly need to redo some lessons about when it was okay to touch and kiss people. Marinette’s hand touched his chest and his brain glitched for a second at the feeling. He sucked in a breath. He saw her just as he turned but she was already almost up to his cheek. But it wasn’t his cheek anymore. He kissed back just for the brief second their lips met. Her eyes went wide when she realized he had turned. It took everything in him not to respond any more than that. In a different circumstance her could really get lost in the idea of pulling her close and having her kiss him intentionally but that wasn’t what was happening here.

She turned away quickly and Roy moved to get Lian washed up for dinner. Their embarrassment was only noticed by the color dusting their cheeks. She was still there when they finished washing hands but she had picked her jacket back up. She was just waiting for Lian to be ready before she said goodbye.

---

“You aren’t leaving are you?” Lian asked.

Her smile instantly evaporated when she saw Marinette with her coat and purse.

“I loved coming over and seeing you but I need to get going now.”

She reached out and hugged the girl and tried to ignore that she had just made her cry. She remembered how Nadia had always told her that she wasn’t being cruel to her child by leaving while she cried for her to stay but that it was the best way to not extend the bargaining. If she just left that would help her dad’s ability to calm her after so they could finish their evening. She gave her a big hug and whispered bye before she stood and went for the door.

---

Marinette had moved quickly to leave and Roy barely had time to process before he was out the door after her. She was halfway down the stairs before Roy called out to her. He could hear Lian sniffling as the door shut but he wanted to clear the air with Marinette before she was gone. He was pretty sure she thought he didn’t want her there and if he didn’t clear that up now, they may never get past it. She paused when he called to her and looked back at him while he walked up to her.

“Don’t go.”

“I can’t stay. You didn’t even know I was coming.”

“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to see you.”

“I won’t help anything by inserting myself into your night.”

“There is enough food and you were already planning to eat. You even brought dessert. Then we are having a movie night. It might sound corny but Tangled is a really cute movie.”

“I know Lian is excited but it would be better to pick a time that works with your schedule. I never should have accepted without talking to you.”

Marinette looked down rather than at him. He stepped one step below her so their eyes were almost level and he gently turned her face up so their eyes met. He didn’t want there to be any mistaking his meaning.

“Jason thinks he is funny and he knew that we would be able to feed you because he regularly shows up at dinner unannounced. But let me be clear. I want you to stay. I want to spend time with you tonight. I want you to stay for dinner and a movie.”

“You do?”

“I might even try to hold your hand.”

---

Marinette was glad she had stayed. Dinner was wonderful and she hadn’t made any other plans tonight so she would have ended up with a crummy takeout meal from the place over by her. It was very convenient and inexpensive, if not very good. Lian was laying out pillows and blankets for them to use during the movie. She had changed into her Rapunzel pajamas that had the dress and body but ended at the opening of the head so it looked like Lian was Rapunzel. Her braid with flowers fit perfectly with it. Roy came in with popcorn and turned the lights low.

Lian laid on the floor to watch. Marinette sat on the couch with Roy. Lian kept turning back to look at them to make sure they were enjoying all the right parts. But halfway through the movie she stopped and got very still. Marinette wasn’t sure whether she had fallen asleep or just gotten engrossed with the plot. Marinette looked over at Roy as the couch shifted. He smiled at her and moved closer. He didn’t try to hide it in a stretch. He moved closer to her and laid his arm on the back of the couch. Marinette moved closer to him and he moved his arm down to wrap around her side.

---

Roy loved the feeling of Marinette against his side. She snuggled right into him and laid her head on his shoulder. She shivered slightly so he adjusted and covered her with a blanket. Instead of going back to the same position he shifted to the side to give her more space to lean against him with his arm still around her. He couldn’t help himself when they were at the lantern scene. He reached over and found her hand just like the characters did. She turned to look at him when he laced their fingers together. It felt like they were completely alone. He moved forward and she didn’t pull away. She turned toward him and he moved one hand up and slipped it into her hair as she moved toward him. They were both shocked and jumped back a little when Lian climbed between them.

“This isn’t the good part. I don’t like this part.”

“Well, snuggle in and we will hold you, Sweet Pea. Do we need to skip this part?”

“I can be brave and watch. But you guys have to stay with me.”

Roy was disappointed when Marinette pulled her hand out of his. She did it to wrap both of her arms around his daughter so he couldn’t fault her but he missed the feeling. She stayed laying against him so he kept his hand in her hair and threaded his fingers through it. She turned to look back at him after a few minutes and smiled. It was not the polite smile she had given earlier. She was smiling like she was happy because of him and it made his heart soar.

---

Marinette forced back her groan when Lian woke and climbed between them. She couldn’t fault her for not wanting to be alone when the scary part came on but she and Roy were about to kiss and she was so ready for it. He had transitioned well, probably from years of experience of having his thoughts interrupted. They went back to watching the movie all cuddled together but Marinette was struggling to focus with Roy’s hand in her hair. It reminded her of him braiding her hair. She could barely focus on the rest of the movie. She could feel Lian tense while all the bad parts were happening and the characters were separated and hurt. She was back to making sure they were watching all the best parts and she cheered when Flynn cut Rapunzel’s hair and then bounced around explaining everything that was about to happen. She was dancing and cheering at the end and pulled them up to dance with her.

Roy gave her a time limit on the cheering and then told her she would be getting ready for bed. She was disappointed but cheered up when she got Marinette to agree to tuck her in with Roy’s approval. She didn’t even finish dancing. She raced off to brush her teeth and told Marinette she had to carry her to bed. Marinette laughed and played along. She made a big production of covering her up and then read her a book. Marnette leaned down to kiss her forehead and Roy leaned right behind her. She could feel him right at her back as he kissed his daughter good night.

---

Roy took Marinette’s hand as they left Lian’s bedroom. Even though Lian was excited he could tell she was too tired to stay awake any longer. Her eyes were already drooping closed before he turned off the light and shut the door. Marinette around and then down, anywhere but at him. He really hoped they hadn’t missed their moment. He stepped close to her and lifted her chin again.

“Can we pick up where we left off or do we need time to build back up to the moment I’ve been hoping for since we met?”

“I--”

Whatever Marinette had been planning to say next got lost when their eyes met. He slid his hand back into her hair and leaned close. He waited. She was moving more slowly but he didn’t want to push her. Her hand went to his chest again and she moved slowly until their lips met again. Her hesitation ended there and she pushed herself against him. Her hand closed around his shirt and was pulling just enough to keep him from pulling away. Roy wasn’t about to pull away. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. She put her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist. Their kisses were gentle and exploring. He wanted nothing more than to convince her to stay for hours but he wanted more than a fling with her and he didn’t like to have women stay over because of Lian.

When they pulled back, he traced his fingers along her jaw. Neither broke the silence. She looked up into his eyes and moved her hands against his chest. She leaned back towards him and he met her halfway. It was a simple kiss.

“I have been hoping for that since the moment we met too.”

Taglist

@adrestar | @zynna @queenz-z

@maribat-october-rarepairs

#roynette #maribat #fluff #good dad Roy #boldlyanxious

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

Text

One Stitch

Thank you for the idea @andahugaroundtheneck

It had been a fairly slow day, but Tuesday’s usually were at your little shop. You’ve gotten the yarn restocked, thread ordered, inventory checked and paper all sorted when the bell over the door chimes.

“Welcome to Crafters Haven.” You call before looking up to see an Adonis in a black leather jacket walking toward you. He’s got brown hair, sea blue eyes, a clean cut beard and a hesitant smile.

“Hi, I need some help. I, uh I need to add a patch to my jacket but every time I try the thread breaks or the needle bends.”

“Are you using a machine or hand sewing?” You ask him as your round the counter and gesture for him to follow you.

“Hand.” He tells you and you nod.

“What kind of fabric and patch?”

“Um leather and I have the patch with me.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” You ask turning to look up at him. He digs a hand in his pocket then passes you the patch, it’s fairly thick and rigid. The patch says ‘Captain’ on it, it’s vaguely familiar but you’re not positive where you’ve seen it before.

“Okay, so you’re going to want a thicker needle than normal since they’re both thicker materials. You’ll also want this thread,” you tell him taking a thicker black thread out of the holder. “And since you’re going to hand sew you’ll probably want a thimble so you don’t hurt your finger.”

“A thimble?”

“Here.” You take a small metal thimble off the hook and add it to the small collection in his hands.

“Thank you.” He says softly and you nod before leading him back to the counter. After you ring him up he pauses and looks at you, “would you mind if I just did this here?”

“Not at all, I’ll take any garbage you’ve got and you can use these scissors.” You tell him grabbing your fabric scissor from under the desk.

“Thanks,” he says taking them from you and going to cut open the needle package with them.

“No!” You cry before he can use them and before you can stop yourself.

“What?”

“Those are for fabric and thread only. If you use them on anything else they’ll dull.”

“Oh, sorry.” He says before prying open the needles with his hands. He threads the needle then shrugs off his jacket and places the patch. It’s then that you see the word Howlies on the right arm of his jacket. He’s a biker, the leader of the biggest biker club in the city.

“Don’t forget to knot it.” You tell him gently, and he looks up at you.

“Would, would you maybe help me?”

“Of course,” you pull out your own work and show him how to make a knot with the end of the thread. “You’re going to want to put the knot between the patch and the jacket to hide it.” You coach him through a hand stitched zigzag pattern, his stitches are neat and even and you’re so impressed with his handiwork.

“Beautifully done Steve.” You tell him as he ties off his thread.

“Thanks Doll. I had a good teacher.” He flirts and you give him a small laugh.

“I’m just glad I could help.” You tell him as he shrugs his leather jacket back on.

“I’d like to thank you for all your help. Maybe I could give you my number and we could go out sometime?”

“That would be nice.”

“This Friday maybe?”

“I’m teaching a knitting class on Friday for the next month until 7:30 but I could go after.” You suggest and he nods before pulling his receipt out of his pocket and jotting his number on the back.

You text him through the week but are surprised when he and another man show up at 5:30.

“Steve, hi.”

“Hi Doll, this is my friend Sam. We’re here for your class.”

“You guys want to learn to knit?” Both men nod and Sam says,

“My Gran used to knight everyone blankets but she died before my sister had my nephews. I want to make them some blankets.”

“That’s very sweet. What about you Steve?”

“Other than wanting to spend some time with the prettiest girl in town?” He flirts and you laugh softly, “I like to keep my hands busy.”

“Alright, yarn is over there, just start with one color. I’ll get you some needles.” You gesture to the aisle with the yarn and the two meander over to it.

Both men end up being fast learners and the other ladies in the group absolutely adore the two men.

Steve waits for you while you finish cleaning and lock up, he takes you on a joyride around town on his pretty navy blue bike then takes you to dinner and home.

This starts a routine, every Friday he and Sam come to knitting class then he takes you out on a date. At the end of the month he gives you a soft smile and asks you to be his girl.

“I’d really like that Steve.” You tell him and he grins down at you before kissing you softly. “Does this mean you’re my guy too?”

“Oh Doll,” he mutters a breath from your lips, “you had me at first stitch.”

Tag list:

I’m honestly just not in the mood to fight with a tag list for a one shot rn

#steve rogers #oneshot #steve rogers x reader #imagine steve rogers #biker!steve rogers #biker!au #biker!steve rogers x reader #imagine steve rogers x reader au #steve rogers x reader au

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

Text

il y aura des jours meilleurs | c. chanhee

🖤 pairing: bf!chanhee x fem!reader 🖤 word count: 2k 🖤 genre: angst, comfort, fluff 🖤 tw: negative thoughts, hints of depressive thoughts and struggling 🖤 synopsis: you’re exhausted to the point of giving up but Chanhee is your source of hope and here for you. 🖤 a/n: happy birthday to our pretty boi chanhee!! 💌 i’m currently watching him decorate his cake and talk, he’s so cute :(( i know it’s a bit of a sad story for his birthday but i really wanted to write something for him and my french project! i hope it’ll be enough!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

You sighed as you walked through your front door, carelessly tossing your belongings on the floor. Not even bothering about hanging your jacket and light scarf, you walked in the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet seat. Closing your eyes, it was hard to be positive at this point. It was the third bad day in a row, and it started to really look like the world was planning a mischievous plan to ruin your life. Out of the last week, you couldn’t even point out a positive thing that had happened. Well, Chanhee’s presence and his love always managed to make you smile and feel comforted, but today, it looked like it wouldn’t be sufficient to see the idea of a smile on your face. The permanent frown that you kept on wearing left you with a pounding headache, your surroundings becoming slightly dizzy.

You were impressed when you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry no matter how hard you tried. This lump in your throat and the weight you felt in your chest didn’t seem to subside when you got out of the boiling shower you’ve just had, so you gave up in trying to feel better for tonight.

“Just not this week,” you mumbled to yourself as you lazily dried your hair with a towel before applying some face cream. It was such an exhausting task for you to execute, but you would hate yourself even more in the morning if you saw breakouts appearing because of the dryness of your skin. It was already hard enough for you to control your emotions, your current goal was to not pile up things that could actually ruin your day or make you insecure even more.

You sighed again, deeper this time when you noticed yourself into the foggy mirror. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you tried to tame down the negative thoughts that were starting to cloud your mind, finally feeling the tears filling your eyes, but you didn’t feel any better. You wiped them away with the back of your hand, quickly applying your serum before switching the lights off and walk out of the bathroom.

With clenched jaws, you stared at the kitchen as you stood in the middle of the corridor, not feeling like eating anything right now. You just weren’t hungry, and even your favourite meal wouldn’t be able to change that. Chanhee would usually scold you when skipped meals out of pure stress or just because you didn’t have time, but today, it was different. Yeah, you weren’t hungry, but you also didn’t feel like cooking at all. It would require too many efforts for you to even get a pan out of the drawer, your stomach twisting uncomfortably at the mere idea of food.

Falling head first into your pillow, you stifled a dry sob as you held the comforter tight against your chest, taking deep breaths as you were trying to calm down. Many thoughts were running inside your mind and you felt like drowning and suffocating in your own sorrow, not knowing what to do or how to act to get better. With your hands covering your face, you allowed yourself to let the tears of despair roll down your cheeks in the quietest way possible.

The pressure in your chest didn’t magically fade away as you had hoped to, it simply worsened. Having a hard time breathing, you opened your mouth wide and took deep breaths as you tried your hardest to get better, but nothing didn’t really work.

So you gave up. You let the tears flood your entire face and neck and cry in the loudest way possible, not feeling any better. The sorrows living in your body intensified, tightening your throat in the most painful way as you tried to subside your own cries.

You froze when you saw the lights of the corridor flicker open, pressing a hand on your mouth to muffle any sound that could come out of it, the tears filling up your eyes making everything around you blurry and messy. Pursing your lips and closing your eyes, you recognised your boyfriend’s steps walking around the apartment as big tears kept rolling down your face.

Chanhee opened the front door, the darkness and the silence of the apartment welcoming him in. He frowned as the atmosphere felt weird, unusual. He knew something was wrong when he noticed that your coat was messily lying around the floor, the light of the bathroom wall cabinet not properly turned off, like you always made sure to do it. Chanhee looked around the apartment, and you were nowhere to be seen. It’s when he took off his shoes and partially pushed the bedroom door open that he noticed your figure, lying in bed.

You turned to your side, back facing the door as you heard your boyfriend getting closer, hand still on your mouth as you tried to look and sound asleep. Focusing on your heartbeat, you managed to calm down a bit and get a grip on your emotions for a quick second, slowly feeling numb. You closed your eyes and tried to follow a regular breathing pattern to make your boyfriend believe that you were already sleeping, and waited.

The latter entered the bedroom on his tiptoes, a knee on the mattress as it dipped under his weight, the young man stretching his neck over your shoulders to see you asleep. He delicately removed a strand of hair from your face and kissed your cheek, frowning and retracted his mouth as he felt a wet sensation lingering on his lips. He gently caressed your head as he felt the saltiness when his tongue met his lips, the dots connecting in his head.

You waited for him to close the door and leave to sigh and wince, realising that you’ll have to talk to him about your damp cheeks. The tears welled back up when you didn’t want to talk to anyone about what was happening inside your head. You hated when your boyfriend saw you like that, because you knew that Chanhee cared for you and wanted to help you. You also knew it was coming from a good intention, but you didn’t feel like getting anyone’s help right now.

Chanhee came to bed a few minutes later, blindly wandering to the bed to not wake you up by turning on the lights. He stayed silent for a moment as your back was still facing him, hearing him sigh as he pulled the covers on his body. He took your stillness as a sign that you didn’t want to talk to him, because he knew that you weren’t asleep yet. He knew you too well to know that you were pretending, but he also knew that it was your toxic way of coping with your feelings.

Later that night, as the clock struck 3 am, you were still wide awake, resting on your back with your hands joined on your stomach, blankly staring at the ceiling as loud and intrusive thoughts invaded your brain. Chanhee was innocently sleeping next to you, a hand extended towards you as if it were a subconscious offer from him to hold his hand. As stubborn as you were and for the third time this week, you refused to get his help, even if you knew deep down that you needed it very badly.

You knew that he could actually help you, but it was easier for you to stay in your sorrow and lament yourself until you felt numb, rather than getting help and get back on the path or happiness. You always acted like this, and you never bothered to change any of your unhealthy coping mechanisms.

However, a tiny voice in your head almost begged you to reach out to hold his hand. Your chest tightened as you stared at his slender digits, whose touch never failed to give you reassurance and comfort. Him caressing your arms or cheeks was a sensation that you discovered when you started dating, and it became just as addictive as a drug. You needed it to feel better and worth it. It was as if the remedy was within easy reach, but you didn’t dare touching it because it was sacred. Though luckily this time, you decided to gather your strength and change things.

Chanhee got drawn away from his slumber as he felt a familiar hand touching him, your digits closing around his hand. He opened his eyes and turned to look at you, the shallow lights of the city illuminating the bedroom. Noticing your pearly eyes, he scooted closer to you and wrapped his arms around you, feeling you burst into tears against his shoulder.

“Shh baby. Breathe Y/N, breathe,” he said as his hand touched the back of your head, gently rubbing it to soothe you. “I- I can’t… I can’t do it anymore,” you managed to stutter as you gasped for air, your sobs being so intense that you could barely focus on anything else. “Don’t say things like that, I know you can,” he mumbled in your ear, but you shook your head. “I’m so tired… I’m so exhausted,” his hand gently massaged your head as he repositioned himself under you, your head now on his chest.

His calm heartbeat resonated in your ear, trying to shoo away the negative thoughts in your head. Chanhee didn’t say anything, he understood that he wouldn’t be able to convince you tonight. His chances will probably be higher by tomorrow when you’ll have calmed down from all your tormenting emotions.

“I know it won’t change anything about how you feel, but I love you and I care for you. There are harder times than others and you are going through one right now. it’s okay to feel bad, it’s okay to feel down, but the most important thing is to not give up. It’s completely normal to feel discouraged, but you have to keep going, for your own sake. And I’m here for you, no matter how lonely you felt, I’ll be by your side,” you nodded at his words, head still pressing against his chest as you tried to get his heartbeat to calm you down.

Chanhee softly rubbed your back and kissed the side of your head, knowing that you weren’t convinced at all. He cleared his throat and held you tighter, pulling the comforter higher to cover your shivering figure.

“Trust me, love, there will be better days, I promise. Those are not just words into the void, I mean them. You are going through a tough time right now, but I guarantee you that you will get better. It will take time and efforts and I know how tried you are but keep fighting. Look how far you’ve come, you always did a great job to stand back up and keep going, don’t let it ruin all the efforts you’ve gathered until now. Do it for yourself, and also for me, for us,” you looked up at him with shiny eyes and he nodded, assuring you that he meant every single word he said.

Your boyfriend wiped the salty pearls away from your eyes and gently smiled at you, hand cradling your cheek.

“Rest now, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you,” you tiredly mumbled, feeling tired after all your crying. “I love you too, please never forget that,” his thumb gently rubbed the skin under your eye, instantly wiping the last few tears that you shed before falling asleep out of exhaustion, in your lover’s arms.

Chanhee sighed, tongue poking his inner cheek in frustration. He hated seeing you this down and broken, but he had faith in you. He knew that it was just temporary, that you wouldn’t give up even if you said you would. He was confident that you would jump back up on your feet and keep going, just like you’ve been doing until now. You were strong even if you never admitted it.

“I promise, there will be better days,” he whispered in your ear as he slowly slid down in the bed until his head rested on his pillow, keeping you close to his chest as he fell back asleep, just like you did a few seconds ago.

╰ It’s gonna be okay. You are going to be okay. ╮

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.2)

Title: Lost in Zero Gravity (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,072 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspo for this fic

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You must have made a really good first impression,” Tatiana commented, blowing out a ring of smoke. Her charcoal lined eyes creased with her pleased smile.

You shrugged, “I was just working.”

“Don’t try to be modest now. It’s not becoming on you,” she laughed in response.

She had called you into her office to tell you that you had been specifically requested for an assignment. It seemed Tony and Steve’s mob were going to be taking a vacation and they wanted you available. You were not one to turn down a paid vacation, especially if they were going to be there. As dangerous as they were, they had been a good fuck and Tony had made sure to get you off. That was far more than probably eighty percent of the people you had been with since you started working the service.

You hated the smell of the cigarette smoke and it was always the hovering stench in her office. She was going to kill herself far too young and maybe shave a few years off your life in return for however she made you stand in here. You adored her, there was no doubt about that. But you wished she would kick the habit.

“Where are they going?” you asked, feigning that you were contemplating about refusing the assignment.

“Riviera Maya.” You narrowed your eyes and she said, “It’s in Mexico.”

An inclusive resort no doubt. It could be fun. Maybe you could ask someone to travel with you so you would not be completely alone when they were not wanting to bed you. Or maybe not… some time alone might do you well.

Tatiana added, “Wives are going to be there though.”

“So, why am I gonna be there?” you asked honestly.

Tatiana snorted, “Oh, stellina.” She took another deep inhale exhaling as she said, “There are so many things there to keep the spouses occupied. They’re rarely together except for dinner. It’s just for appearances.”

Rich people’s lives sounded exhausting.

“You just need to be out in the open, keeping yourself available for them whenever they have an opportunity to slip away and have some fun with you. Otherwise, just keep yourself occupied with the beach and nice drinks. I know you hate suntanning but there are shops to poke around in. I know you like shopping.”

“That I do.”

“Maybe they’ll give you extra.”

“I don’t want to go around trying to get greedy.”

Tatiana smirked at that. “That’s my girl. I trained you well.”

<><><>

Pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, you hopped up onto one of the barstools on the bar you had just walked by and circled back to. You had yet to see either Tony or Steve and you had been here since yesterday. The place was relaxing and the room was great. You had basically sunk into the bed, having one of the best nights of sleep you had had in a long while without any noise from Elisha in her room along your wall back home. Leaning over the counter, you asked for a strawberry lemonade.

“Strawberry lemonade? It’s a party, dollface.”

You recognized that voice and you straightened back up, turning your head to look in his direction.

Steve was standing there, leaning on the counter. He was a sight for sore eyes. He was only in swim trunks, aviator glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. That did not hide the fact you knew his eyes were running unabashedly over your body. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him, thinking of how he handled you last time.

“I bought this specifically for this vacation,” you said, hopping down from the stool and turning around for him to let him see the whole suit. When you turned back around, he was grinning. “It looks good right?”

He nodded, “You look damn sexy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“My wife is here,” Steve said, and you frowned instantly at this immediate change in conversation. Was he trying to kill the mood so quickly? He said, “I know. She’s got her little masseuse guy here to keep her entertained, so I should be able to have my own fun. But I’m trying to be good.”

Picking up on his hint, you sauntered towards him. Your hand came up, resting on his chest. “Why do you have to be good if she isn’t being good?”

“I had to hold it in until she ran off,” he told you.

You pulled his sunglasses down to see his eyes, keeping them on the bridge of his nose. You smiled when you were able to actually meet his gaze.

“Well, when do you get to not be good?”

“Right now,” he said and you smiled in response. “It’s why I came and found you. I saw you yesterday. Wandering around. Took everything in me to not come up to you. Looked like you found yourself a nice little boyfriend though?”

“He was trying really hard but no… no dice for that guy,” you told him.

You pushed his glasses back up and your arms wrapped around his neck. He grinned back at you, his fingers tracing along your exposed back.

“I’m assuming you’re liking what you’re seeing?”

“Very much,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the hem of your suit.

You nuzzled your nose to his. “Hmm. So we know where this is going?”

<><><>

You stood in front of the mirror, completely bare. Steve had brought you back to their villa. Tony’s wife was gone, off to a spa treatment. The room had a wide door open to the patio overlooking the ocean. There was a hot tub and pool on the patio and although you wanted to indulge, you refrained. You got undressed for them instead, waiting for them to get antsy enough to take charge. It did not take long as you predicted.

Tony came up from behind you, nude as well. His hands ran across your breasts, cupping.

“Don’t you look marvelous…” he murmured, his fingers tweaking at your erect nipples. You bucked ever so slightly, and he smirked. His nose came to nuzzle into the nape of your neck. “I knew I chose right… a perfect gem.”

“You still seem to like what you’re seeing?”

He chuckled, one hand snaking down to toy with the top of your sex.

“You’re gonna look even better underneath that mirror.”

You turned in his arms, your forehead pressing against his. “A man that likes to review his work. I don’t know if I should be worried.”

“I didn’t get to where I am by being a half ass.”

Steve was at your other side and he enveloped you to him. To both of them, you asked, “Any critiques?”

“Loaded question,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, the biggest is you haven’t sunk one of your holes on either of us. I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the company.”

He kissed the tip of your nose lightly, “And I’m sorry for being so charismatic.”

“I’m assuming you can’t multitask then? Be charismatic and fuck me at the same time?”

A low growl left his mouth now, “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at fucking all,” he told you pulling you over to the bed.

Steve was looking upwards, and you knew he was taking in the sight of you hovering over him as you sunk onto his length in the ceiling mirror. His eyes were swimming with arousal and you hoped to always be the cause for that.

<><><>

“Y/N, you got a gift,” Wendy said, pointing at the table as you walked into the brothel’s kitchen. You had come in to get a drink but smiled seeing the bouquet and gift.

“Really?” you asked, letting your backpack fall from your shoulder and along with your carry-on drop to the ground. You had just gotten back from Mexico; that was quick if it was from who you thought it was. Upon seeing the flowers, you knew your assumption had been correct. They had asked you what your favorite flowers were and even though that was extremely obvious why they were asking, you had told them all the same.

The bouquet was large and there was a nice heart balloon in the center. You smiled, leaning in and smelling the flowers deeply.

“Where’d you get those from?” Elisha asked, coming into the kitchen. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, giving a little laugh, “I know exactly where those came from.”

“There’s also this,” you said picking up the gift bag from beside it, waving it at her.

“That’s dangerous,” Elisha commented, grabbing the bloody mary that Wendy had made her. They must have had a rough night.

You shrugged again, opening the bag. Your lips curled into a smile as you pulled out a bright blue teddy. “Cute,” you giggled. Elisha and Wendy shook their heads, taking a drink. You held it up against your body and asked, “Think they want me to wear it for next time?”

“I don’t think they bought it for shits and giggles,” Wendy snorted. “How was the trip?”

“It was nice.”

“Good to hear it. You should relish in this.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, putting the teddy back into the bag. You thought of the extra money that Steve had tucked into your bag, remembering that you should tuck that away. It was smarter to not spend all the money that was thrown at you. That is what fools did; you needed to think ahead.

<><><>

The dress was loose and casual, perfect for the saloon they had asked you to meet them at. They had sent a car for you and met you at the curbside. When you got out, you looked around, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of them dressed in nice, pressed jackets. You were going into a dive bar, what were they doing?

Tony took your arm, Steve trailing behind. “Hmm, a sun pattern,” Tony commented, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your dress.

You gripped his arm, smiling. “I like to be a shining beacon in people’s lives.”

Tony chuckled in response, his grip tightening on your waist. The bouncer did not ask for your IDs; they must know them. It was dimly lit, packed. There were dancers on the stage and your eyes were drawn to their movements. The woman dancing had curves to die for.

“Where we going?” you asked as they led you through the bar. Your eyes ran around the tables the further you went in. Did they have a reservation?

“For the real party, sweetheart,” Tony told you, his lips brushing your ear. You shivered at the touch.

It was dark back here and you tensed. Tony felt it, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.”

Two men were standing in front of a door and they opened it when they saw the three of you approaching. There was a table with a group of other men, looking like they were waiting for the three of you. There were a handful of other women sitting around the perimeter of the room behind the players. They made brief eye contact with you, sizing you up quickly before averting their eyes again.

“Took you fucking long enough,” one of them drawled at Tony and Steve.

“Sorry, we were waiting for our lucky dame,” Tony returned.

Tony kissed your hand as you sat, before he turned away and sat in his chair. Steve’s hand grazed you affectionately, before he sat down as well.

You sat quietly, watching them play. It was poker, that much you knew. It was intense, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. They were taking this seriously and you surmised they were gambling a bunch of money.

Steve was staring across the table at the first man who had spoken to them when they walked in, his eyes narrowed. The other man was not flinching but something must have been a tell for Steve because he pushed chips forward.

“Well, senator… I’m gonna raise you,” Steve commented.

Your heart stopped a bit, hearing him call him that. Your eyes narrowed at the man across the table. You did not pay attention to politics but the way the man’s face scrunched at Steve’s tone… you knew he had to be one. A senator. What had you let them drag you into?

The man chewed on his lip before throwing his cards down on the table without showing what they were.

Steve’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he held out his hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” the man snarled before getting up from the table. He buttoned his suit jacket, leaving the room without a second glance.

“Sore loser,” Steve commented, much to the amusement of the other men at the table to your surprise. You thought they would be more angry about losing the money they had but maybe the man had been a common enemy.

They gathered up the chips, tossing them into a bag. Tony’s hand snaked around your waist.

“Wanna spend this?” Tony asked, grinning broadly, holding the bag up to you as he guided you towards the door. You giggled and he kissed your cheek. “Steve’s treated us. But especially you, baby.”

<><><>

Pulling your dress back on over your head, you straightened it, making sure it was covering your ass. It was short and you did not need to be flashing anyone on the sidewalk.

“You sure you don’t want me to order you a cab…?” the man asked from behind you, taking a long drag on his joint. He was still lying in bed, watching you get dressed.

Confidently, you turned around, fluffing your hair. You shook your head, “It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he said, shooting you a smile.

“I try to be,” you said winking at him, grabbing your purse.

You left his place quickly, heading back to the brothel. It was not a lie, it was not far.

The distance did not matter though when it came to what was waiting for you outside.

A hand closed around your arm, yanking you into an alley. You screamed but another hand slapped across your mouth as you were slammed up against the wall. Your heart was pounding, your eyes wide in fear staring at your assailant.

Your fear melted away to a mixture of anger and disgust. You would recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. You had stared into them far too many times as he towered over you, beating you into submission. You had run away from them far too many times, locking yourself in the bedroom until he got tired of trying to beat the door down.

Garnering strength from a place you did not know existed, you shoved him away, much to his surprise. He did not expect you to fight back, and he stumbled back.

“Have you been fucking following me?” you demanded, your chest heaving.

“Just interested to see what you’ve been doing since you ran off. Looks like you are visiting a bunch of men,” Jared sneered at you, getting back on his game and closing the space between you. Your fists clenched by your sides and he noticed, smirking. “You gonna hit me?”

“No,” you spat.

“So, what’s got you leaving someone’s apartment this time of night, baby?”

“That is none of your business.”

He shoved you back into the wall and you winced against the cement scratching at your skin. You swallowed it though, clenching your jaw, glaring at him. You were acting far braver than you felt. Jared always had the power to make you feel small and weak and it seemed just his presence had that same power. You felt just as helpless as you did a year and a half ago. He was frightening; you knew what violence he could unleash.

“What’s this?” Jared asked, yanking at your purse.

“Nothing, it’s my purse!” you said, your hands closing around it to try to yank it back from him.

“Looks pretty expensive, Y/N… Marc Jacobs? What have you been up to?”

He gave another hard yank, and the chain broke and you hissed against the pressure against your shoulder as it snapped away from you. You reached for it and he shoved you back again, harder this time and you let out a pained noise. Your eyes searched the buildings that surrounded you, hoping someone would be looking out the windows and be able to come to help you. It looked like no such luck.

He yanked out the hundreds the man you had just left had given you.

His eyes were dark, glowering at you. “Where’d you get this?”

“From work!”

His backhand was swift, knocking you off balance. But he was there to catch your falling momentum only to slam you up against the wall for the third time, his forearm pressed into your throat. You gasped, trying to breathe.

“You left me to spread your legs all over the city?”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaimed pitifully, trying to deny it. Your hands clawed at his arm and he only pressed in harder, making you gasp more desperately.

“I saw you go into that building with that man. Yes, I was following you! And you come back out with all this money? I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a worthless slut.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and he growled, “You always did cry too soon for my liking.”

Your purse fell to the ground and his other hand reached up between your legs. You tried to fight him, and he socked you this time. Your head knocked against the wall and you saw stars.

Jared pushed away and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. You squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to gain back some sense of balance.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout from far off.

All you could see was Jared’s shoes coming in and out of your vision. You felt a sharp pain in your stomach making you lose all your breath before his shoes were gone. You blinked again before losing consciousness as you saw a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight.

~~~

Tags: coconutqueen21

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #stony x reader #stony smut #marvel fic #my shit

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

I Promise (I)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> Some people have the gifted ability of music; others of mathematics; some perhaps as persuasive argumentators. You have a “gift”, if one would like to call it that. It is the ability to know when somebody is telling a lie.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> hoseok x reader; ?? x reader (the whole gang joins at some point)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> mafia!au

𝔴/𝔠 >> 3.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mentions of drug use. nothing else much really it’s actually pretty tame right now

𝔞/𝔫: would you believe be if i said this whole thing was inspired by this singular gif? I lost my old account (rip old fics) but here I am starting new and writing again. Nervous, but please show some love

next part

The music is blasting in your room, and the bass rumbles causing your heart to beat to the rhythm of the song. However, your fingers are tapping to their own creation of a tempo while your other hand scribbles a note down on a piece of paper. It is the end of June and that means you have just received your paycheque.

“$9.74,” you repeat after your calculation, “I’ve got an extra $9.74 to spend.” You lean back in your chair and continues to bob your head. The wall behind you thumps to its own tempo; not of the song that is playing but its own rhythmic pattern. Your roommate is at it again. You close your eyes and allow yourself to drift. $9.74. You could get an extra meal. Or an extra drink at the bar. Or maybe you could just put that into your bank account. But that’d be useless, just sitting there. In the very distance, you hear the thumping of your roommate stop and its door creaks open. Another set of doors creak a couple of seconds later. You get out of your seat and open the door to your own room.

Seohyun, your roommate, brushes past you wearing only a pair of shorts and her favourite black laced bra. She walks to the door of the apartment and kisses the man on the lips before taking a drag of the cigarette she is holding in the other hand. He stands with a hand in his pocket and the buttons of his shirt undone. You watch as Seohyun bites his lip before ending the kiss.

“You’re the best,” you hear the robust mint-haired female say.

Cue the all too familiar buzzing.

“Love you, babe,” he says, kissing her one last time before leaving.

The buzzing halts.

“Love you too,” Seohyun kisses him one last time before gently pushing him out the door, closing it when he leaves.

And there returns the buzz.

Seohyun turns to walk back to her room and notices you standing there. “Hey,” she greets.

“You know, he actually does like you,” you comment, coming out of your room. You rub the back of your neck and rotate it once to get rid of the stress. Seohyun sits down on the brown couch in the small living room and takes out a tin box. She crosses her legs and rummages through its contents. A cigarette leaves its embers on the ashtray in the table in front of her. “Right. And I like him too,” Seohyun replies, taking out what she had been looking for, “Him and his drugs.” She shakes the white packet before opening it up. She sniffs the contents once and sighs. Making a motion towards you, she offers its contents to you.

You shake your head. You return into your room briefly to turn off the music and grab your phone and jacket. When you walk back out, you see that the packet is empty and Seohyun is passed out on the couch, fingers still speckled with white dust. You make a quick stop into Seohyun’s room to grab a blanket for her before locking the keys to the apartment.

Your apartment, technically. You had been the one to pay full payment and was content in living alone until Seohyun showed up one night, begging for a place to sleep. You couldn’t let her sleep outside so you agreed. That one night turned into a week and finally a year, where Seohyun still stays.

It isn’t like you didn’t enjoy Seohyun’s company. She is nice to be around, always engaging in some next level philosophical topic, particularly when she is high. It is, however, slightly annoying whenever she brings her “boyfriend”, or boyfriends at times, to the place, but you have learned to drown out their voices and actions by blasting your music. But what you like about Seohyun the most is that she doesn’t ask questions. The buzzing in your head is also always strangely quieter around the other girl as well.

You trudge up the stairs and immediately brings a hand to shield your eyes from the bright sun. It is about seven in the evening but still way too bright for your liking. You like the darkness night brought with it. Serene. Solemn. Locking the gate to the building behind you, you walk down the streets all the while rolling your neck due to its tense state.

No matter how many times it happened, you’d still feel its pain.

The lingering pain left as a reminder of your unique power; gift; thing. Whatever people wanted to call it.

You knew whenever somebody told a lie.

You would feel this strange buzzing at the base of your neck when a person said anything but the truth around you. The buzzing didn’t come every time you talked to somebody - you couldn’t catch all the lies that came out of people’s mouths - but it occurred often enough to be a nuisance to you. While the buzzing wasn’t painful in itself, it always caused your neck to be in sore pain. The pain was not indicative of how big the lie was, however. A lie that involved so many twists and turns that even its creator could not keep track would give you pain. A small white lie would give you the same pain. To you, it was just pain.

You quickly turn the corner and made your way down the stairs into the subway station. The man at the window gives you a small smile in which you did not return but hastily walk through the gate. One hour. It took 46 minutes to get to the station and another twelve minutes to walk. You had one hour. The subway could not be late.

You were not always a walking human lie detector. In fact, you had only been living like this for the past six years of the total of your twenty-six. At least consciously aware of this ability of yours for that time period.

If you really had to pinpoint when it started, you would connect it to approximately four more years prior to that: first year of high school. The prime time of adolescence.

You could hear the first subway leave, vibrations through the sole of your feet and its wheels screeching on the tracks. That left two minutes for you to make it to the opposite platform which was for the direction you wanted to go. You glance at the elevator you are currently standing in front of. It had not budged from “G” for a while now. You glance at the stairs just a couple of steps away. Sighing, you leave your spot and make your way down the stairs. One and a half minute.

The first year of high school sucked. Your parents had always screaming at each other and your brother was constantly skipping school. You did not want to be a second disappointment to your parents so you spent all her time studying in the library. It was also an excuse to be out of the house. One day, you returned home and found your mother crying on the steps of their house.

“Mom, did you and Dad fight again?”

Your mother did not meet your eyes. “Are you okay?” you had asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, trying to console your mother as best as a fourteen year old could do.

“I’m fine,” your mother answered. That was when you first heard a faint buzzing. It was strange for bees to be around their flowerless yard.

“You don’t look fine,” you had pressed on, “Will you and Dad be okay?”

Your mother shifted her position and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She looked at you with a bruised eye and said, “Your dad will be okay.” The buzzing seemed to fade.

You patted the still damp cheek of your mother and hugged the fragile women. You slowly rubbed your mother’s back in small circles. “Mom, you and Dad will work things out. So promise me you guys won’t leave each other.”

“I promise,” your mother had reassured you. That was when you cried out in pain as the buzzing attacked you. Your mother had been alarmed and you had laughed it off, saying that a bee had probably stung the back of your neck while she wasn’t aware. The duo then got off the floor and held hands as together, you walked back into the house.

Your parents split a week later.

You had never found it in herself to forgive your mother after that. You hadn’t even known that you had been lied to until you really thought about it in your years as an adult. You just hated the fact that your mother had promised something that she had been planning to break. When high school ended, you picked a college as far away from your mother’s house as you could. You poured all of your time into your academics and never bothered making friends. Throughout the four years there, you had occasionally felt the buzzing but did not really associate it with anything around her. It only became prominent when you started working at your first job.

To any fresh graduate, this was a hire that was ever only dreamt of. It was a position with a high status in the company: Assistant Director of Internal Affairs. The company had been extremely impressed with your grades and all the extracurriculars you participated in. You had flown to three different cities outside of your own country as an intern and placed first in multiple conferences. It was no mistake that you had gotten in. You had been ecstatic when they spoke to you. You could finally move out of your mother’s house, in which you had temporarily been staying in while job searching; live in a city a thousand miles away from where she currently was, and was able to be somebody whom nobody knew about. It was your dream come true.

That turned out to be a disaster. Every day you went into work, the buzzing would surround you and send you moaning in pain to the bathroom. You could barely speak to any of your coworkers without wanting to strangle them and tell them to be quiet. You could not attend any of the meetings and you had to call in multiple sick days within her first week there. Needless to say, this affected your work performance and after an agonizing four and a half months, the company fired you.

Being without a job meant that you had no steady income. So, you moved out of the luxurious apartment you had just bought with your new salary and used the remaining money to buy the dank, run down one you were currently living in. You searched everywhere and finally found a waitress for hire at a bar close to the middle of the city. It was an hour from where you lived, but at least there you could dull the buzzing with alcohol. And this was how you lived for the past two years.

You cursed. You missed it. The subway left you in its smoke as you got off the last step of the descending staircase.

...

The other man was slouched against the pillar of the building, blood running freely down the side of his head while his hand tried to keep in the rest of his blood from escaping out of the hole on his side. He panted, gasping for whatever oxygen was available.

“Tell me,” the younger man towered over him, “Where did you hide the stash?” “I didn’t hide it, man. I swear. It’s where they asked me to leave it,” the bleeding man held his remaining hand in front of him in defense. “Please don’t hurt me.” There was a swish and cold metal sliced the air. He was not taller than the man, nor any stronger. But he had youth and a quick mind. More importantly, he had a weapon.

“Trust me. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, so don’t make me do something I don’t want to do,” he crouched and put his face close to the other man’s. He pressed the knife against his throat.

The man whimpered as a thin line of fresh blood was drawn. “Please, I beg you. Don’t hurt me,” he said again, voice barely a whisper.

The two stayed in that position until the younger abruptly stood up. “Fine, I won’t hurt you,” he stepped back, “But it’ll be on you when she gets hurt.” His movement is fast and he grabs the wrist of the single other person in the station.

...

You stand with your back against the man, the knife held against your neck this time.

You dare not to move. You swallow once and glance down at the bleeding stranger. He is staring right back at you.

From movies and dramas, you know not to fight back in scenarios like this. You also know not to scream as this would agitate both parties. You return the strangers stare: “Help me”.

Your capturer’s voice rumbles through his chest and onto your back as he speaks, “Your choice. I can kill this girl and have it pinned on you, or you can just tell me where you put the stash.”

“Please,” the bloody man pleads, “I’m just a carrier. I don’t know where any of the merchandise is. I… I admit it, alright? I disobeyed the instructions this time. I didn’t leave it where they told me.”

You feel yourself being dragged closer to the subway tracks. Maybe you should kick or flail around a little. You try, but the man holds you steady. The blade is dangerously close to cutting your skin.

The bleeding man can only watch in horror as the other man stands precariously on the edge of the tracks. “I’m going to push her down,” he is warned. His mind was frantic. He had been told that his task would be simple. He did not know that it would involve another human being to be hurt in the process. His mind flashes back to his little girl, probably still waiting for her father in their small flat.

“I got another message right before I left,” he starts saying, “Please don’t hurt the girl. Please don’t hurt me. I’ve got a family.”

“Don’t we all,” the voice behind you drawls in sarcasm, “Give me another excuse of why I need to keep listening.”

You kick your assaulter. He grips you tighter. She look back at the bleeding man on the ground. He is still staring at you with wide eyes.

“The message told me that the location had changed. I wasn’t sure if I should trust it, but an hour before the pickup time, another note showed up on my doorstep and said that if I brought it to the second location, I’d get an extra $150, so I did it,” he continues.

You feel the tension in your neck slightly subside amongst the chaos. You kicked your assaulter again.

“Exact location. Now,” the voice demands.

“Corner of 16th and Main,” he stammers.

You kick a little harder this time, trying to wiggle out of the tight grip. It is really starting to hurt you. You feel yourself being pushed towards the bleeding man. Both you and your assaulter get extremely close to the man lying on the ground.

You sniff once and instantly regret it. Mixed with the blood, you can smell the acidity of urine. The man is now crying and you think you could see the pool around him widen ever so slightly.

“Please sir, I’ve told you everything that I know. I followed the instructions and left it there. I did not hide it. Somebody else must’ve used me to get it. I swear, Sir, I swear,” he holds his hands out and rubs them, a symbol of asking for mercy.

The two of you stand up, or rather you are hauled up for the man. The knife nicks your neck and you swear under your breath. You can feel the two men stare at each other for a long time.

“Scram,” the one behind her rasps. It takes a while for the bleeding man to stand, but adrenaline does wonders when the body is in danger. He limps out and up the stairs before he can be told twice. There is a rumbling in the distance to indicate that the next subway is arriving.

“There’s a train coming,” you finally talk, “A train means there’s people.” Your assaulter still does not let go.

“You’re hurting me,” you wiggled in his grasp. He loosens it and you finally get away. You turn and glare through your bangs at the man who has been holding you captive. You touch a finger to where the knife had nicked you, then examined it: there is blood.

The man standing has put his knife away. He is studying you with eyes as intense as yours while bringing the lighter to the cigarette in his mouth. He takes a long drag and blows it in your direction.

Standing only a few inches taller than you, he is of slightly above average height. He wears the iconic baggy shirt and jeans of the common gangsters that prowl the area. Even in the dim light of the subway station, you can make out the tattoo of a dragon spiraling up his arm. He does nothing to hide the fact that he is affiliated with the mafia.

You are not particularly intimidating yourself. You stand at 164cm but wear a constant scowl. With your broken nose from a fall in your childhood, the feature makes your whole facial symmetry shift ever slightly to the left, accentuating the scowl even more. In a black t-shirt, black dress pants and black shoes, you wave her hand to rid herself of the smell of smoke.

“So, was he lying?” the man finally speaks after a period of silence.

“Fuck off, Jung Hoseok,” you growl.

#bts #hoseok #jhope #bts au #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #bts x reader #hoseok x y/n #jhope x y/n #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfic #mafia!au #mafia!jhope #mafia!bts #jung hoseok #hoseok au

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind of Education: V Is For Vanilla (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, light dom/sub dynamics, light dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, protected sex, vaginal fingering, light breast/nipple play, nipple sucking, light biting, i think thats it, honestly this chapter is (as the title says) pretty vanilla. But things will get more intense in later chapters.

Words: 7,128

A/N: ahhhhhh it’s finally here. This professor Rog idea has been kicking around my head for months now and finally I’m actually doing something about it lmao

This series is going to be LONG (like in my plan it’s 15 chapters) because I have So Many kinks I want to squeeze into it. Some were chosen by me and some were chosen by everyone who voted in the poll I put up a few weeks ago and i am seriously so excited about what’s coming.

Smut scenes in this and all future chapters will be marked with stars so that if there is a kink you’d like to avoid you can skip over it and still enjoy the rest of the series.

Also, I know the chapter title doesn’t super make sense since he’s a university bio sciences professor which doesn’t have a lot to do with the alphabet but 🤷‍♀️ that was the working chapter title and it kind of stuck. Plus, ya’ll know I love chapter titles that have a theme lmao. Anyway, no more stalling. Enjoy the filth and start preparing yourselves for it to get so much filthier.

(the ultimate hot professor rog moment tbh)

@atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

His office door was open when you got there which didn’t give you much time to hesitate or rethink your decision to ask your Professor for help. He would have seen you approaching or stalling in the doorway and invited you in anyway to query you about your reasons for being there. So, instead, you raised your fist and rapped a pattern on the door frame with your knuckles. “Professor Taylor? Can I have a word?” “Miss Y/L/N,” he seemed surprised to see you, his eyes widening behind his spectacles, “come in. What can I help you with?” You closed the door behind you and took a seat, fidgeting with your fingers as you tried to remember how you’d planned to broach the subject. Professor Taylor – Roger, as you’d been told you could call him – waited patiently. “It’s tricky, Professor. Umm, see, well um,” “Is this something to do with the coursework? If you’re worried about the last assignment, you don’t need to be. It was really good, what you handed in.” “Really?” “Mmhmm. I was going to give you all feedback next week but if it’ll help put your mind at ease I can show you the comments I have for you early,” You were half a second away from asking to see them when you remembered that wasn’t what you’d come to ask about, “A-actually that’s okay Professor.” “Oh? So was it something else you wanted? I know that this Masters course is more work than previous classes you’ve had with me but you seem to be keeping on top of it all. I’m very impressed by what you’ve accomplished so far.” “Thank you Professor, but, um, that’s not really what I’m here about,” “No?” He leaned forward resting his chin on his hands, “You know, there’s no need to be nervous about talking to me, I’m not going to fail you,” he chuckled as he sat up straight again, clearly trying to lighten the mood though his expression became more serious as he said, “if you’re having trouble with something, or someone, please tell me and I will do what I can to help, whether it’s pointing you in the direction of someone more able to support you or talking to people on your behalf.” You nodded, feeling marginally calmer though still nervous, “I was actually hoping for some private tutoring,” “Oh? Well if you’d like to put your name down as a tutor I have a form here somewhere, if you fill it out I can pass it on and have your name added to the database,” Roger rifled through a stack of papers on his desk, only stopping when you spoke again. “No, not, uh, not tutoring work. I more meant tutoring from you. In an area that this Uni doesn’t provide classes in,” “Miss Y/L/N I’m going to have to ask you to explain because I’m not quite sure what you’re after,” You took a breath and resisted the urge to speak to the floor, “My boyfriend dumped me last week.” “I’m sorry to hear that but I don’t see how-” “He dumped me because apparently I’m not kinky enough. I don’t know, he always wanted me to be super obedient in the bedroom but I never really understood it.” Roger shifted in his seat, “Miss Y/L/N I don’t think this is app-” “I want someone to explain it all to me, teach me how to be what he wants so I can get him back. If I can show him that I can learn, that I can submit in the way he expects, then we won’t have to break up. I love him and I’d do anything to get him back and I’ve been thinking about it and I think you’re the best person to teach me.” “I’m not sure I understand why you would come to me with this. I am very sorry to hear you’re dealing with that but it’s not really appropriate for me to be discussing such matters with my student.” “Just…” you held your hand up to try and stop him from standing and opening the door for you, “You must realise that you have a, um, a reputation.” Roger was taken aback by that, throwing you a confused expression as he settled back into his seat. “Surely you’ve heard the rumours about you. About what you like to get up to with women.” “I can assure you I haven’t,” “Seriously? Everyone talks about it. I mean part of it is probably just because you’ve got that whole DILF thing working for you so like half the students here have crushes on you. But then you throw in the gossip about how you like to tie women up and all the rest of it,” Roger closed his eyes as if he couldn’t quite keep up with everything you’d just said, “How- I mean, those rumours have no bearing on- on anything and they aren’t even- what I mean to say is-” “Professor, it’s okay. It’s just gossip, nothing serious in it. But if you do like that sort of thing, I could really use your help. I won’t tell anyone, all I want is my boyfriend back,” Roger pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “This is insane, what you’re asking is insane.” “No it’s not,” “Okay, lets, Miss Y/L/N, just for a moment, let’s imagine that, hypothetically, I say yes to this. What then?” “Well, I’d expect we’d meet up once or twice a week, you’d teach me the basics of kink, anything you thought I should know. Then in four months’ time I can talk to Dylan and show him what I’ve learnt and he’ll take me back.” “Why four months?” “Oh, we’re pretty much guaranteed to see each other then. Two of our mutual friends are getting married and we’ll both be at the wedding. So will you do it?” “Miss Y/L/N, I don’t know that this is a good idea,” “Why not?” “Well our ages for one thing,” “So what? You’re mature and experienced and that’s what I need. Plus, surely having someone half your age throw herself at you is a bonus.” He smiled slightly, “All the same, it’s wrong. I’m your teacher.” “Exactly, who better to teach me?” “The ethics of this- and the rules of this university. If anyone found out I’d lose my job, you’d lose your place at this school so you wouldn’t get to complete your degree. Not to mention I’m sure you have family and friends who would chop my bollocks off before they ran me out of town.” “It’s not like I’m underage, I’m doing a bloody Masters. And no one would find out. We can meet in secret.” “It’s still so risky, Ms Y/L/N,” “Look, Professor, I wouldn’t tell anyone, you won’t tell anyone. As long as we’re careful about when and where we meet no one will find out. Please, Professor. I need this,” you thought you could see his resolve cracking but decided to give him a final push, “But if you really don’t want to then I’ll find someone else. I’m sure I can meet someone online. Fetlife? That’s a website for this kind of thing, right?” “Fine, I’ll do it.” He said suddenly, “But we do it my way. And certainly not on campus.” “Okay,” “Are you free tonight?” “You wanna get right into it?” “I want to discuss this further, off campus, to set some ground rules, and I think we’ll both be more comfortable discussing it over dinner.” “Dinner? Like a date?” “A business deal. Miss Y/L/N, if you can’t take this seriously,” “I can, I promise. Dinner where?” “Well, public places are out of the question. So you can come over to my house. Be there by Seven and make sure no one knows. Here’s the address,” “Thank you Professor,” Roger grunted as he scrawled his address on a scrap of paper, holding it out to you, “Go, out of my office before I come to my senses,” You nodded and scurried off, taking heart from the bemused tone behind his snippy words. In a matter of a few short months you’d be able to put this breakup behind you and show Dylan just how much he meant to you.

A few minutes before seven o’clock you rang Roger’s door bell, looking around at the long driveway and the tidy garden beds at the front of the house as you waited. He opened the door quickly and hurried you inside glancing around the front yard as if someone were spying on him. “I brought wine,” you said, holding the bottle out, “You’ve got a nice place,” “You sound surprised,” he said as he took your jacket from you and hung it on a coat rack to the side of the entrance before taking the wine with a gracious nod and examining the label, “Y’know being a university professor doesn’t actually pay too badly.” “Yeah but this place is massive,” He chucked, “I inherited a little from my Nan and Pop and then there was the album. That was enough to buy this place.” “Album?” “Oh, I was in a band in my youth, one mildly successful album and a couple of writing credits on the singles set me up nicely. Not nicely enough to retire on but still.” He shrugged as he led you through his sizeable house, up a set of stairs and towards the back balcony, “Plus, this place didn’t seem so big when I was sharing it with my ex-wife and our kids. Uhh, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss. Now, make yourself comfortable out here and I’ll just go check on the food.” You nodded, still trying to wrap your head around the sheer number of rooms and hallways you’d passed as well as the fact that your old Biology professor had once been in a band. It was hard considering you’d only ever seen him presenting lectures to an audience of tired and often hungover students but you supposed he did have a kind of magnetism that would have been at home on a stage. Still, you’d have liked to see pictures.

Roger returned a few moments later with two plates of food, a couple of wine glasses tucked in the crook of his arm. You quickly reached to relieve him of something, before one of the glasses could shatter and put an end to all your plans. Though perhaps a broken glass would have helped break the ice. It wasn’t the most comfortable dinner you ever had. You found it hard to swallow, hard to sit still, torn between wanting to jump right to the main topic and wanting to let Roger bring it up in his own time. The last thing you wanted was to come across as just trying to get a leg over the hottest professor on campus as if for a dare or a joke. Him retracting his agreement was a very close second last. Instead, you gulped down your drink and tried to focus on the reasonably nice meal Roger had prepared for you. Finally, after watching you top up your glass for the third time, he put you out of your misery. “Why me?” “What?” “Why did you approach me with this idea of…tutoring?” “Like I said before, the rumours abo-” “Okay but there must have been something beyond that. There could have been rumours about any staff member. If the school gossip had said Professor Richardson had a sex dungeon where he tied up women and spanked them, would you have approached him?” “So you have heard the rumours,” “Of course I have. Answer the question,” You stalled by taking another drink, though only a sip that time, “No, I wouldn’t have.” “So, why me?” “You’re hot?” Roger gave you a look you’d seen in the classroom – his stop fucking around look, usually reserved for first years who still treated dissection and cadavers as a joke. You shrugged, “You’re one of the best teachers I ever had. You always said we could come to you with any problems we were having and whenever I took you up on that offer to go over the coursework you were encouraging and supportive and knew how to push me in the right direction without giving me all the answers. I guess I felt like I could trust you. Like you’d take me seriously or at least hear me out before shutting the door in my face. And if the rumours happened to be false then you seemed like the sort of person who wouldn’t be offended by them or my proposition.” Roger smiled to himself, but it was only for a few brief seconds and then his professional demeanour was back in place, “Alright, well, I’m listening now so why don’t you tell me about this ex and the sort of things he requested of you. And then I’ll decide whether to kick you off my property or not.” There was a twinkle in his eye that told you he wasn’t serious about throwing you out, but it didn’t stop you from feeling timid about the conversation, “Umm, okay. His name is Dylan. We were both in your Bachelor bio class, that’s how we met. Or kind of. We were aware of each other but went to different parties and hung out with different people. It wasn’t until last year that we actually met and got chatting and started seeing each other. I thought it was the real thing, like proper love, soulmate stuff. So when he broke up with me it took me completely by surprise. Everything felt perfect with him. Except for the sex.” You paused, feeling a little self-conscious about speaking so frankly about your personal life, and with your professor no less. Roger removed his spectacles and wiped them on the bottom of his shirt, “Ms Y/L/N, you’re going to have to be able to talk about sex with me if you actually want this to work.” “The sex was fucking great okay? Especially at the start. But the longer we went out the more he pushed for me to be submissive to him. He’d joke around about wanting to fuck me while I was asleep or mostly asleep, and he’d dirty talk by calling me his toy or saying that he owned me or sometimes about pimping me out to his friends. I indulged some of his ideas like when he wanted to be especially rough with me, pushing my head down into the mattress, pulling my hair, slapping me, things like that. And it was fun, but I never enjoyed it the same way he did and whenever he brought up the sleep stuff or if he tried to bend me over while I was cooking dinner I always stopped him. He’d laugh about it and say he was just joking but I guess he meant it more than I thought he did.” Roger remained quiet, watching you thoughtfully until he was sure you were finished, “If we did this what limits would you want in place?” “None. I want to be the perfect submissive for Dylan, I want to prove I can be whatever he wants.” Roger shook his head and put down his glass, “What was it you told Dylan when he suggested using you while you were in the middle of something or if he brought up the sleep stuff?” “I just told him no, I wasn’t into it or I was busy.” “Then that’s a limit. If you don’t want to do those things, that’s okay. Everyone has limits.” “But that’s the point. I need to learn how to be into those things so he’ll have me back. My limits are what made him leave.” Roger exhaled heavily though his nose, “Okay then, is there anything you would consider a turn off?” “I don’t know,” “Well I don’t believe that. I’m sure you have at least some idea of what you like and what you don’t.” “Yeah I guess I do but if I’m the submissive one then it doesn’t matter what I want. This is about Dylan and doing what he wants.” “Personally, I’m not big into feet stuff – toe sucking, foot jobs, anything like that – it just doesn’t appeal to me, whether I’m acting more dominant or more submissive, and I’ve made sure to tell every one of the women I’ve been with who hinted that they’d be into doing that kind of thing. A lot of women, in my experience at least, don’t like anal or things like knife play or scenes that feel violent or menacing.” He paused, watching your reactions, “From what you’ve just told me, it sounds like Dylan might be into free use and consensual non-consent so if either of those things sound like a turn off to you, you should let me know. Dylan will have limits of what he’s comfortable with and comfortable doing to others, I guarantee it. You need to make your limits known too. It’s all part of being in a D/S relationship and playing with any kind of BDSM type kink. The main rule we follow is safe, sane and consensual, and believe me, I will make sure we follow it during our lessons. So, is there anything you would consider a turn off or anything you wouldn’t want to do, even for Dylan?” “Can I think about it and get back to you?” “I suppose so. If it helps I can give you an idea of things I could teach you and you can tell me if any of them don’t feel right.” “Yeah, I think that would help,” “Alright umm, obviously because this is about what Dylan likes we should address consensual non-consent and free use at some point, but they would come later. Somnophilia too. I’d probably start with something easier or more common anyway. Spanking is nearly guaranteed, basic bondage methods – cuffs, ropes, that sort of thing – maybe some more extreme bondage too depending on how much you enjoyed the basic bondage. Ummm, choking, maybe some gags, tease and denial for sure. Any of that sounding too scary or intimidating or just not fun?” “They all sound okay I think, although some of them I haven’t heard of before.” “It’s a start at least. Of course, I would begin with the smaller kinks and work our way up to the more intense ones, and hopefully by that point we’ll both be more familiar with your limits and what you are interested in taking further.” “So, does that mean your agreeing to tutor me?” “I can definitely work with this.” “You mean it?” “Yes. Apparently I do.” He trailed his gaze over you for a moment, “How would you feel if I suggested we move this to the bedroom?” Your heart skipped a beat and you hoped your shock hadn’t shown on your face, “You want to start now?” “Sort of. What do we do at the beginning of a science experiment?” “Measure a control group,” “Exactly, you do a control before you mess with variables so you have something to measure them against. In this case, I think we’ll be able to tailor kinks to you better if I have some idea of what you enjoy during sex and what it takes to get you off. Is that okay?” “Yeah, of course, yeah. Makes sense.” “If you want to wait a couple of days we can,” “No, now’s as good a time as any. And the sooner we get into it all the better really.” Roger chuckled and stood, holding out his hand to help you out of your seat, “You’ve always been an enthusiastic student.”

Leaving your plates and glasses on the balcony table, Roger led you towards his bedroom. You wished you’d had a little more to drink, just to dull the sudden wave of nerves that had risen up. You were about to fuck a professor. Professor Taylor. It was a bizarre scenario you’d got yourself into and in an effort to distract yourself a little and calm down, you focused on his bedroom wall as he busied about closing curtains, eyes trained on a framed watercolour of a lake under some cherry blossom trees. “You like it?” “Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s pretty,” “I got that while I was in Japan a few years ago.” You nodded, not sure what to say next. “Are you okay?” You turned and found Roger much closer than he had been a moment before. “Are you sure you want to do this?” “Yes, sorry, just a bit nervous I guess. Feels kind of odd now that I’m actually here. If I’m being honest, I didn’t really expect you to agree to this.” “I did tell you your idea was insane. But that’s okay,” he slowly reached forward, his hand settling on your hip and gently tugging, encouraging you to step in closer, “It’s kind of weird for me too. So, we’ll go slow. And if you want to stop at any time we can.” You nodded, eyes glued to Roger, and let your tongue wet your lips. His eyes followed the movement, “Does that mean you want to kiss me?” There was a playfulness to his voice, teasing almost, and you found yourself relaxing and agreeing that you did. And for the first time you realised just what it meant for those rumours to be true. “So then kiss me.”

******

A kiss you could do. Pushing aside the realisation that this was your first kiss since Dylan left, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Roger’s, though you pulled away quickly. Roger didn’t say anything, just waited, lips lightly parted. Your heart was racing with excitement and uncertainty, but you wanted more. He welcomed your lips the second time they met his, his hand gripping your hip harder now that he was certain you were going to stay. It was almost needy the way he kissed back, something you’d not have expected from your Professor. His nose bumped yours and yet he didn’t seem to care, leaning further into you, his tongue tickling your lip seconds before you felt it slide against your own tongue. Familiar but entirely different from the kisses you were used to. His hands didn’t move like Dylan’s did, not grabbing but gently squeezing, reassuringly firm. His leg was suddenly between yours and you took a step back in surprise. Roger followed so you took another and another until you felt the edge of the bed behind you. Dylan and your nerves almost entirely forgotten, you reached for Roger’s belt. He let you unbuckle it and pull it loose before he grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, kissing you between looks heavy with desire. He broke away for a moment and toed off his shoes, bending to take his socks off too, “So, is there anything you particularly like, any positions?” You copied his movements, kicking your own shoes just under the bed, “Not really. I can work with whatever.” “Stop trying to please me and tell me what you like Ms Y/L/N,” he said, reaching for your hips again so he could push your jeans down. “I mean I guess I like being on top, riding, whatever you want to call it.,” you quickly unhooked your bra and let it drop to the floor, “But Dylan tended to like me under him.” “New rule,” Roger said, kicking his own pants off his ankle as you tugged his shirt from his shoulders, “No talking about your ex when we’re this close to being naked. Okay?” “Yeah, sorry, good rule.” “Y’know I could have taken your bra off too,” “Faster this way,” “I’ll let you have it this time. But next time I unwrap you myself.” You shivered at the implications of the statement as Roger resumed the kiss and pressed you backwards onto the mattress, quickly climbing on top of you, his hands braced on each side of your head as he leaned down to kiss you once more, hungrily.

He didn’t stay there long though. A few seconds later he’d shimmied down your body, creating a trail of kiss warmed skin, until his face was positioned directly above your breasts. You raised your head and watched enraptured as he his eyes met yours, the hint of a mischievous grin lighting up his face, and then he lowered his lips to the top of your left breast. You let your head drop back to the bed and ached your back a little, pushing your chest towards him. “Yeah, you like that?” he asked, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it before, “what if I do this?” slowly he let his teeth sink into you, just for a second. It was enough to pull a small hum of appreciation from you so he repeated the action on your right breast. “Feels good?” “Yeah,” you breathed out, softly. “Yeah?” he asked, pushing himself up so he was straddling your waist, “What about this?” You felt his warm breath surround your nipple before you felt his tongue lap against it or his lips enclose it, letting your eyes slip shut as you drew your lip between your teeth. He seemed to appreciate the response and made sure to repeat the action a few times against each nipple, sucking on one as his gently flicked the other with his thumb. You tingled at the sensation of his warm saliva cooling and gently squeezed your legs together. “Don’t be shy,” he said, sitting up again and laying a hand over each of your breasts, “I can tell you enjoy it when I play with your tits,” You pulled in a shaky breath as he squeezed your breasts, “Mmhmm, yeah,” “Do you want some more?” “Yes, Professor,” He made a short clicking sound with his tongue, “I think we’re past Professor by now, you can call me Roger. And you can tell me what you want,” “I want more,” “More what?” You hummed again at the feeling of him massaging your boobs. “More what? Should I keep sucking on your perky fucking tits? Jesus they’re so fucking soft,” he cleared his throat and shook his head a little, “Or, should I give some other part a bit of attention? Your pussy’s probably feeling a bit left out, huh?” You’d expected him to boss you around, make demands, and you’d expected a bit of dirty talk (the kind where he’d tell you how sexy you looked or that he couldn’t wait to fuck you). But the reality surpassed everything you’d considered likely. You certainly hadn’t expected to get wet just from his tone and his words. And you definitely hadn’t expected to be doing what he asked, agreeing with everything he said. But that’s exactly what was happening, and it felt good. “Please touch my pussy.” “It would be my pleasure,” he smiled softly as he climbed off of your waist and pulled your underwear down, “and yours.”

The change of position gave you a moment to catch your breath but also to take in Roger’s appearance properly. You had to admit you liked what you saw. Of course, you already knew he was attractive. More than once you’d found yourself distracted in class, mind on what a cute bum he had or how shapely his hands were or else on his fluffy hair, light blonde but with streaks of grey blended throughout. He was the epitome of the hot teacher really, especially with his gravelly voice and the youthful sparkle of his eyes, magnified by his usual pair of glasses. What you hadn’t seen before, and what you were revelling in now, was his naked torso. There were muscles in his arms, not Hollywood style bulging biceps and you’d certainly never have noticed them under the sleeves of his work shirts, but they were revealed as he shifted his position and you had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze them. A light fuzz of hair covered his chest, though it was so light it was barely visible, and a marginally thicker thatch of it trailed down into his underwear. And in between was his stomach, the years of fatherhood evidenced by how it softly protruded out over the hem of his underwear. Once, a few years ago, someone had found a photo of Professor Taylor taken in the 90s when he was twenty-something and, thanks to the university meme facebook page and a few students with near influencer levels of followers, just about the whole school had seen it and had wet dreams about it. He’d been stick thin then, eyes ringed by dark grungy eyeliner, long messy hair falling about his face, and his plaid shirt unbuttoned. The Roger settling beside you now was miles away from that boy but you liked his current look, from his shorter hair to his rounder body, though he seemed to have the same skinny legs. “What are you thinking about?” he asked as he propped himself up on his elbow to look you over. “This is…better than I thought it would be,” “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t know, I just...I could never picture it before, actually being with you. But you’ve made it feel easy and, well not normal, but y’know, not too strange either.” “So you’ve been liking it so far?” “Mmhmm, it’s felt really good,” “Good, that’s what I want to hear. But,” your breath hitched as you felt his fingers stroke between your legs, “experiments not done yet.” He watched his hand as it moved, his fingers sliding between your lips, spreading the wetness that had begun to pool with his earlier attentions. Each shift of his fingers pulled soft sighs and small ohs from you as the pleasure began to slowly build and you pulled him down into another kiss, wanting to feel him closer. He eased the first finger into you gradually, whispering questions about how it felt and if you were ready for more. You’d have expected his constant quizzing to be annoying but he peppered them between comments about making you feel good and dirty talk about getting you ready for his cock as he pulled your hand over to his crotch to give him some small relief. And somehow everything just seemed to turn you on more, his obvious desire to make sure you were comfortable included. You barely registered when he added the second finger, pumping both into you rhythmically as he delicately sucked at your pulse point, though you knew the third was coming, a response to your pleas for more. You’d meant his dick really, ready to move things along but he’d been adamant about making sure you were properly stretched out, not relenting until he’d fit four fingers inside you. “Fo-four?” you whimpered as he pressed the last one into you, “Three not enough?” “Just to be on the safe side. My cock is about average length but its girthy,” “I – oh Roger – It feels huge to me,” “Please, I’m 46, I know it’s not the biggest thing in the world. But I also know it doesn’t need to be to fuck you so right.” You weren’t sure how to reply though he didn’t give you many options, jerking his fingers inside you and making you moan. “I know there are nerves involved which can impact how wet you get and I don’t want to do anything that would cause you pain or discomfort, so I’m going to finger you until I’m ready to stop. You can beg all you want but I won’t fuck you until I decide you can handle it.” Even that was hot though you weren’t exactly sure why, but whatever it was you found yourself nodding in agreement, staring at him through eyes half lidded with pleasure.

When Roger was satisfied that you were ready for more than his fingers, he pulled them from you and got to his knees, shuffling around to rummage through his bedside cabinet. A moment later you realised why as he kicked off his underwear and tore open a condom. You watched as he rolled it down his shaft, noting he’d described himself quite accurately. “Sorry,” he said as he caught your eye, “did you want to do that?” “No, that’s okay,” you chuckled, “just that Dylan never liked to wear them,” “Hey, we have a rule remember. And this is the first time I’m fucking one of my students, I’m not doing it raw, are you kidding?” “Sorry. And yeah, you’re probably right to use one.” “Hey, this is just the control remember. Condoms are a variable we can change later.” You laughed at that and nodded as Roger squirted some lube into his palm and began stroking himself, letting out small groans at the contact. “Are you going to fuck me yet or is there something else I have to wait for?” “Careful Ms Y/L/N, you know I don’t tolerate that kind of attitude.” He smiled as he crawled over you again, catching your lips quickly before he sat back on his heels and pushed your legs wide. With a final look, as if to give you a chance to end things before they went any further, he lined himself up and pressed himself into you. You gasped as he filled you easily, bottoming out. “God you feel good,” he panted, “are you okay? Can I move?” “Yeah,” you nodded, “please move.” He breathed out a small sigh as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward again, finding a rhythm. As he got more comfortable in the moment, Roger leaned over you again, pushing his face between your breasts and laving your skin with his tongue. He rediscovered the spots he’d found earlier, humming around your nipples and squeezing your boobs as he thrust into you. “Feel good?” “Yeah,” “You close yet?” “Not really.” “That’s alright,” he said softly as he readjusted his position, sitting back and lifting your legs over his shoulders. You felt the angle change as he fucked into you harder than before, his pace a little faster, “Play with your tits for me.” You didn’t hesitate to do as he asked, panting in sync with his thrusts as he dropped his fingers to your clit, rubbing in tight circles, forcing more moans and whines from your throat. “That’s right, tell me how good it is to be spread out under your professor, full of my hard cock. Christ you’re so fucking tight. Why didn’t I fuck you sooner?”.” You let your moans pick up a little as he ploughed into you, willing yourself to reach your climax. “Yeah? You like that. Are you close now?” “Uh-” “So no.” “Sorry, i-it just takes a while usually. I could f-fake it if you wa-nt to stop.” “No!” his voice sounded strained as he stilled inside you, “This is about getting you off and I will keep fucking you even if it takes all night for you to cum. I just need to readjust again.” Your laugh became a small whine as he pulled out of you and rolled you over so you were on top of him, “what are you-?” “Ride me. You said you like being on top so ride me,” You smiled and pressed your lips to his quickly before settling yourself over him and carefully sinking down into place. As you took him as deep as you could you halted a moment to enjoy the sensation of being full again, gently rocking your hips as you braced your hands on Roger’s chest. He held your gaze as he slipped two fingers into his mouth, pulling them out when they were dripping with saliva. He pressed them together with his thumb before bringing the wet digits to your right nipple, massaging it until you arched your back and tilted your head backwards. There was no way to resist any longer and you raised yourself on your knees before sinking back down, grunting as he hit just the right spot. “Better?” he grunted. “Mhmm,” you managed to get out before a moan, once again lifting and dropping yourself. You settled into the flow of it, the movement of your hips and the way you pulsed around him as you took him harder and faster, feeling the pleasure build and build and build. Until Roger’s voice, cracking with the effort, broke through your concentration. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m close. I’m gonna cum,” “Okay,” you said, not sure what else you could say, a little disappointed that it was going to be over before you could finish. So much for all night, though you supposed he’d only said that to help you relax and finish faster. At least it was hot watching him unravel beneath you, his grunts and groans loud and shameless, his hips spasming under yours. You waited until he was done, eyes closed and chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain control of his breathing, and then lifted yourself to dismount him. Or you would have, except you felt his hands grab you by the hips and press you down again. “Your turn,” he said it so earnestly, no hint of the dominant teasing from earlier or any egotistical overconfidence, that you found yourself agreeing immediately, shocked into doing what he was guiding you to. You raised your hips again, let him pull you back down hard and before long you’d found your rhythm again. He let go of your hip, moving the hand to messily rub your clit as you shifted a little, changing the angle by a fraction. It was enough to have you careening towards the edge, even as Roger pulled air through his teeth as the extra stimulation. “So close,” you muttered before he could ask, eyes shut, intent on your mission. “C’mon, cum on my cock, show me how good it feels,” You nodded unthinkingly as he encouraged you, feeling it just out of reach until finally the familiar warmth washed over you, a long moan slipping from between your lips as you swivelled your hips, prolonging the orgasm as long as you could. “There you go, good girl.”

******

Roger gasped as you climbed off him and carefully removed his condom to throw it out. “I could have done that,” “You did enough.” He was smiling when you turned back to face him and beckoned you over to join him on the bed once more, pressing a kiss to your jaw and the corner of your mouth before he found your lips again. You sighed against him, lost in the blissful warmth of the moment. “I’ll do it. I’ll tutor you,” Roger said after some time, his arm draped over your side, your faces inches from each other. “You mean it?” “Yes.” “Because I’m a hot shag?” He let out an exhale of laughter, “Because I would rather you learnt about that kind of stuff from someone like me than some random on the internet who thinks that being dominant means being cruel or causing pain. At least I can make sure you approach things from a healthy angle with your own enjoyment in mind as much as your ex’s.” “Thank you. So…when do we start?” “Give me a few days to plan out some lessons, put together a curriculum.” “Oh, so it’s going to be like proper tutoring then.” “You’re the one that came to a teacher about this.” “Fair enough.” You would have happily stayed there longer and you later wondered if Roger would have let you had an alarm on his phone not gone off, a reminder to put his bins out for collection in the morning. He frowned as he realised the time and glanced at you. The piercing melody had brought the reality of the situation back to both of you. “I guess that means I should leave, right?” Roger sat up and scooted a little further away from you, “Yes, you probably should.” He paused for a moment, “No one can know about this.” “I know, I understand. It’s our secret.” He pulled in a breath, “Exactly, our secret. Do you need me to call you a cab?” “No, it’s fine, I drove here.” “Okay. Well, why don’t we get dressed and I’ll walk you out.” “Are you okay with this? If you really don’t want to teach me, I’d understand.” “No I want to. More than I should.” “That’s okay. No one will know and we’ll do things your way, whatever you think is best.” “My way,” he muttered to himself, “Yes. Exactly. Okay. Um, tell you what,” he swung his legs out of the bed and bent forward to retrieve the underwear he’d discarded earlier, pulling them up under cover of the corner of the bed sheet, “I will grab my things and go collect our dishes from dinner. You can stay here and get changed and then when you’re ready to go, come find me in the kitchen, okay Ms Y/L/N?” “Sounds great, Professor Taylor.” He nodded at you once more before he left, bending to collect his pants and shirt on his way. You waited a minute or so, mind racing with the events of the evening and the promise of what would be coming, before you too stood and began to redress.

When you felt sufficiently tidy you stepped out into the hallway and headed in the direction you hoped led to the kitchen. Roger was there, redressed and hardly looking like he’d just got out of bed, leaning against the bench, eyes out of focus. When you arrived though his head jerked around towards your movement. “All good?” he asked, “got everything?” “Yeah, think so.” “Well,” he said, leading you towards the front door, “it was great having you. Over. Having you over. I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” “It was great for me too Professor.” “I will see you in class on Monday, don’t forget about that reading you’re meant to do.” “Got it. Um, can I ask about my next tutoring session, when would that be?” “I will talk to you about it after class on Monday if that’s okay.” “Absolutely, whatever works for you Professor.” He opened the door, standing on his side of the entrance as you stepped outside, “Right, well. Goodnight Ms Y/L/N,” “Goodnight Roger,” you said, quickly leaning in to kiss his cheek, “and thank you.” He still looked a little stunned as you got into your car, wondering just what you’d got yourself into.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #professor roger taylor #it feels so good to be posting this tbh #i cant wait for ya'll to read it and also the rest of the series ksjflsflsjflsjf

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

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Cutie Pie | Sweet Pea

Hey Lovelies! Still updating from my Wattpad! Today’s feature: Sweet Pea! On another note; I think I’m going to open my requests for Thanksgiving! What do y’all think? All my love!!

Description: Y/n, Southside sweetheart, thinks Sweet Pea despises her. He really, really, does not.

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Warnings: Hints at smut but not really

Word count: 3k

Tags: Fluff, angst

Toni groans and throws another top on the growing pile of shirts that she has deemed unwearable. You had seen nothing wrong with it, a flowing pink blouse with cream polka dots. To her, however, it was too girly. You had scoffed at that. There's nothing wrong with femininity, she of all people should understand that. Maybe if she had wanted something that screams masculinity she should have raided Sweet Pea's closet instead of yours.

The Serpents seem to think there is something wrong with being girly though, looking down on anyone who dares wear anything pink or flowery and definitely anyone who wears both at the same time. You roll your eyes at that every time. You, a teenage Serpent yourself, are perhaps the most "girly" person to have ever set foot on Southside grounds. You take pride in that, wearing your Serpent jacket over all the ballerina skirts and pretty pink bralettes that your flowery heart desires. Yes, you get glares all the time but the switchblade in the pocket of your cherry blossom backpack just begs them to start something they can't finish.

"Y/n, baby, I love you but your closet is a nightmare! Do you have nothing remotely black? Or skimpy! C'mon, you want to impress Sweet Pea don't you?" Toni's voice is teasing and your cheeks flame in embarrassment and a tinge of anger.

"I would never dress to impress," you make air quotes with your fingers and pretend to gag, hiding the unavoidable lust in your voice before you say his name, "Sweet Pea! He's a jackass who's high on some masculinity crap! I can't do that."

She smirks at you from the mirror she's applying her bright red lipstick in, "you can very much do that and I know you want to. You're telling me that you don't lay awake at night and imagine his hands, his very large hands, doing unspeakable things to you? You may be the cutest little thing we've got on the Southside but you, baby girl, want him bad. Trust me, I know. I'm your best friend."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong and even if I did want, well, all that," you blush at the thought and swallow hard, pushing down at the buzz in the pit of your stomach, "he hates me so it would never happen. Theoretically, of course!"

"Uh huh, sure," is all your pink haired best friend says before turning back to your baby blue, vintage vanity to curl her pink locks.

You cross your arms over you aqua t-shirt, feigning annoyance, "and just what is that supposed to mean, missy?"

"Just that we both know you're turned on from just hearing Sweets' name. And he doesn't hate you, I roll with the guys remember," she catches your wide, doe eyes in the mirror and shakes her head lightly, laughing softly at your blown pupils, "he wants you. Bad."

You scoff again, leaning down to tie up your white tennis shoes, "he does not. He thinks I'm weak; that I'm going to bring down the pack.”

"He feels like he needs to protect you. There is a difference," Toni stands, twirling in front of your mirror to approve her outfit for tonight.

Some of the Serpent teens are gathering at the quarry, much like they do most weekends, to hang out. Today is special, though, because it's the last weekend before summer ends and you're all forced to go back to an educational prison. You're heart races knowing that Sweet Pea will, in fact, be there tonight. He's a jerk, at least he seems like one. Every time you’ve spoken to him it's been to tell him to let you handle your own problems. Granted most of your problems have involved ghoulies trying to make you their lunch because of your cute aura and quiet voice but he's never given you an opportunity to prove yourself. No one has.

Your voice is soft, like usual, but a tad annoyed, "I don't need protection. Why does everyone assume that I do?"

"Because you're so cute we could just eat you up!" Toni leans over to pinch your cheeks and you try not to giggle because that would only prove her point, "also, that isn't what you're wearing, is it?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" You peek around her and scrutinize your outfit.

An aquamarine t-shirt that stops right before a pair of fashionably baggy, cuffed jean shorts. The same pair of pink pearl earrings that you always wear are in your ears and the white tennis shoes you just laced are on your feet. Your worn Serpent jacket hangs proudly off your shoulders, the bright red patches bold against the black leather. The cherry blossom backpack is settled on your bed, ready to be grabbed and filled with your reusable water bottle, rose perfume, matching cherry blossom wallet, and switchblade, of course. All in all, it’s the perfect outfit.

You glance up to see Toni just smiling lightly at you, "Nothing, you're right. It's perfect."

* * * * *

Like usual, you and Toni take her bike to the quarry. You don't have your own bike so you ride behind her, your arms around her waist, her sugary scent blowing at you in full force, and your head thrown back, hollering into the wind. The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Nobody would have ever seen it coming. You were always playing in princess dresses and she was the pirate storming the tea party in search of cookies that were dubbed gold. You're polar opposites yet she's, perhaps, the only one who really knows how alike you are.

You arrive at the quarry laughing and cheering like maniacs, nothing out of the norm. You swing your legs over the side of her bike, hopping off gracefully and smoothing back your wind blown hair. It's dusk, the sun having just set, and there are mason jar lights sitting on the picnic tables and fairy lights strung through the trees. For such a rowdy gang, there is soft indie music floating through the air; the final touch to, dare you say, a romantic atmosphere. You couldn't be more proud.

A familiar arm is slung over your shoulders, pulling you into a playful side hug.

"Fogarty! I haven't seen you all summer," you swing yourself into a real hug, latching your arms around his neck and squeezing as he pulls you off your toes, "where have you been, Fangsy?"

He chuckles and sets you back on your feet, ruffling your hair and grabbing one of your hands to twirl you around, "hey cupcake, it's good to see you too. I've been here and there, sorry I wasn't around."

You giggle and shake your head, pulling him to sit at the practically full picnic table that Toni claimed. The table cheers when they see you, pulling you in for hugs and playing with your hair. You hear a couple voices tell you that you look cute and others telling you to come sit with them. You slide your backpack off, placing it under the table when you find an empty spot. Before you can take your seat, however, a pair of muscled arms circles your waist, pulling you onto their lap and stealing your seat for themselves.

A leather and pine scent envelopes you as the table breaks out in hooting laughter, "Sweet Pea this is my seat. As in singular. Mine."

All he does is tighten his arms deliciously around your hips, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach and making you very much aware of the intimacy of your position. You look to Toni for help but all she does is wink, turning her head to join one of the many side conversations taking place. You sit in silence for a while, as stiff as a board in Sweet Pea's lap. You aren't uncomfortable so much as nervous. You can't lie, you've been practically in love with Sweets for as long as you can remember but, until now, he has barely shown you any form of affection besides ‘saving’ your sorry butt on numerous occasions.

"Relax, baby," he mumbles into your neck for only you to hear, "it's just me."

You want to yell at him for calling you baby, you really do, but it sounds so perfect coming from his lips and his mouth on your neck is too pleasurable to push away. Instead, going against everything you stand for, you sink into his broad chest, leaning your head under his chin and pulling one of his hands into both of yours.

"Much better," his chest rumbles softly under your back.

"Pea we're supposed to hate each other, remember?" You toy with his fingers, noting their size and remembering your conversation with Toni from earlier today.

She wasn't wrong, thoughts of his hands, among other parts of him, keep you awake at night. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck.

He leans down, skimming his lips over your earlobe while he answers, "Since when? I never got that memo."

His hand moves from your hip to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers dipping in and resting on the skin under your naval. You bite back an unexpected moan at his lips and searing fingertips, leaning further into his chest and shifting your hips backward to fully press yourself against him. You let go of his hand in exchange for digging your fingernails into the picnic table. His hands are hidden, given him all the encouragement he needs to slide his now free hand up your bare thigh, drawing circles with his thumb on the inside of it.

"Sweets," your voice is raw, "what are you doing?"

"Showing you just how much I don't hate you."

His lips inconspicuously move to your neck, claiming the skin under your jaw as his own in the darkness. His hand draws further up your thigh, under the denim of your shorts and stopping at the apex of your thigh.

"Let me show you that I very much do not hate you, baby," he murmurs into your ear, the hand in the waistband of your shorts skimming over your skin in mesmerising patterns.

"Not here," you force the words pass you lips, melting into his touch.

"Then let's go," he practically pleads into your ear and it's all you can do not to wrap your legs around him right here and right now, nodding desperately as he scoops you into his arms and stands up.

You giggle loudly and, for the first time tonight, you're able to see his face. He's smiling down at you, a soft look in his molten chocolate eyes. His stare soon turns heated and he licks his lips, drawing your eyes to his mouth. Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling you flush against his chest. You turn to look at the table in time to see Toni nudge Fangs and point to the two of you, smirking at you when she catches your eye.

"Well guys," Sweet Pea addresses the table as he walks stealthily backwards, "it's been fun but we're going to head out now."

Before anyone can protest you lean up and whisper run in his ear. Before you know it he's sprinting to his motorcycle, the table of hollering Serpents shouting words of advice at your back. One that rings louder in the night is your best friend's voice screaming to "use protection". You blush and bury your head into Sweets' shoulder.

He sets you down on his bike when he reaches it, placing his hands on your hips and staring into your eyes through the darkness. The tension between you is tangible. You can hear every inhale he takes, imagining his bare chest moving over your own. In the blink of an eye you reach up and hook your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. Sparks dance up your spine and his hands find your hips. Fire burns everywhere he touches you.

You break the kiss quickly, "crap Pea, my backpack! I left it under the table!"

His eyes are still closed and he finds you lips once more, pressing another kiss to you lips, "okay baby, wait here, I'll go grab it."

"No, it's okay I ca-"

"Baby, just let me go get it," he stares into your eyes, pleading with you to let him go retrieve your backpack.

"Fine."

You watch him run back towards the others. You don't realise how dark it is until your all alone and the woods around the quarry become more prominent. Every noise you hear sets you on edge. You swear you keep hearing twigs snap but it's only your imagination, right? It has to be. That or Sweet Pea is pulling a prank on you. Maybe you should have just gone to get your bag with him.

You hear another twig snap and tense up. You ball your hands into fists, readying for anything. You can fight, that puts you somewhat at ease. Toni is the only one who knows that, spare a few older Serpent women who aren't in Riverdale anymore, because they had been the ones to rough you up during your gauntlet. Yes you, the softest girl on the Southside, refused to do the dance. There were no rules prohibiting you from the gauntlet so you opted for it instead. Needless to say, you can take a hit.

"You little skank!" A voice sounds from behind you, causing you to whirl around.

In front of you stands a tall redhead with hair to her elbows. Her serpent jacket clings to her slim form, accentuating her curves in a way that makes you jealous. She wears a paint of off brand skinny jeans and a black t-shirt that's a little too tight. Her eyes are bright green and furious, glaring bloody murder at you. You have no clue who she is.

"Uhm, excuse me?" You glance behind you just to make sure she isn't talking to some else.

"You heard me, slut. Who the hell do you think you are? Sitting on my man's lap?"

The ‘slut’ thing doesn't bother you and neither does the ‘who the hell’. She doesn't know you so you refuse to take her meaningless words to heart. However, the part where she claims Sweet Pea has you seeing red.

"Amazing. Everything that you've just said is wrong." You smile innocently at her, curling your hands into fists once more behind your back.

"I'm sorry? What did you just say to me?" She takes a step towards you, her chucks cracking another stick.

"Oh, sorry, let me explain. My name is y/n, not slut,” you counter her step with one of your own, “that's who I am. Oh, and he's not your man. If he is than why is he pulling me onto his lap instead of you?” you scrunch your eyebrows and look her up and down, “Oh, wait, who are you again?"

Your sugary sweet smile turns sinister in the blink of an eye; the same amount of time it takes her to charge at you. The words ‘cat fight’ ring in your ears as you dodge a poorly thrown left hook. You use the opportunity to land a blow to her exposed stomach. She coughs quietly and you step back to give her room, trying to be as kind as you can to someone who's wrongly accusing you of being a harlot. You're caught off guard though when she lunges for you, knocking you to the ground and pinning your legs under her.

Rookie mistake number two. She goes to swing again but before she can you grab her shoulders and roll, ending in a straddled position with her arms secured over her head. You smirk triumphantly down at the red head under you.

You plan to keep her there until Sweet Pea gets back but she decides to, rather stupidly, open her mouth, "I bet this is a familiar position for you, huh?"

It's not red that you see this time but blackness. All you remember is calling her a bitch and the next thing you know your hands are bruised and you're being pulled, legs kicking in protest, off the red head who now has a busted eye and a bloody nose. You're screaming at whoever has you in their grasp to let you go another round with the nameless girl. A mass of teen Serpents surrounds you, cheering loudly for you.

"Baby, as hot as that was, I'm not putting you down," a familiar voice whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You look back at the bloodied girl on the ground. She makes eye contact with you from around Fangs who's trying to help her stand up. You don't know where the reckless idea comes from but, to be fair, you aren't really thinking straight right now. Perhaps that's why you follow through with the plan you have just hastily concocted in your head.

You toss the red head a cute smile and mumble delicately to the tall raven haired boy, "hey, Sweets?"

"Yeah y/n?"

You glance up at him, still in his arms, and pull his lips to yours. You kiss him slowly, drawing it out for as long as you can before you have to breath again. You keep your lips millimetres from his, pressing them against his softly a few more times. When you look back to the ground, the girl is nowhere in sight and the rest of the Serpents have migrated back to the picnic tables. Your cherry blossom back pack is settled at Sweet Pea's feet.

"So," you giggle at his dazed expression, "do you still feel like you need to protect me?"

"Yes," your face falls and you almost push yourself from his arms.

"But, to be fair, I always will. That's just me. You looked amazing fighting though. Absolutely fucking beautiful."

"Okay," you kiss his jaw softly, "I think I can handle that. Now can we please get out of here?"

"Fuck yes!"

#sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea #sweet #pea #riverdale #riverdale imagine #toni topaz #topaz #toni #fangs #fogarty #fangs fogarty #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x y/n #imagine #reader insert

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intergalactic-padawan · 3 years

Note

Season 2 Ezra with a S/O who is super forgetful? (I’m an Ezra simp so get ready for many asks)

Relics - Ezra Bridger x reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: preprare for some strong feels if you catch the reference! It came to me in a dream and now you all have to deal with it. You're welcome.

A/N: It's no problem at all, please, fill my asks with as many ideas you want! Sorry this took so long as well, i wanted it to turn out really good but my teachers had other ideas. Hope you like it?

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

-"And you did all of that just for one meiloorun?" - You look back at Ezra, guiding him through the packed streets of the open market in a strange planet Hera had landed to refuel, and he gave you a smile. Your question was very serious, though: there was no way that was really the origin story of the 'Commander meiloorun' inside joke he and Zeb shared.

-"Funny enough, that's exactly what that trooper asked" - you snort at his reply and stop at the front of a busy stand of off-world fruits, grocery list in hand and bag of credits at your side.

-"welp, hopefully this time we can find some that are actually avaliable for buying"

Their selection was truly impressive. Not just the stand, but the market as a whole: jewelry, souvenirs, toys, books and foods all found themselves mixed and admired by people who had to yell louder than their neighbour to sell something today.

Ezra continued with his story, examining the apples as you'd instructed him, but you only paid half-attention this time: something had caught your eye, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were that no one had found it sooner.

A genuine DC-17 hand blaster was sitting beautifully two stalls to the right of you. For the looks of it, it was genuine, at least. The sign also advertised it as such, so it was truly a wonder no one with the minimum of firearms knowledge had grabbed it before.

Ezra said something that vaguely sounded like a question beside you, and you nodded, absent-minded. He then handed his shopping bag to you - probably to be able to bend over the table and get a few kiwis from the back - but you didn't turn to him.

-"I'm going over there, take a look at something real quick" - you announced, but didn't wait for an answer before navigating the sea of people to meet the woman selling the blaster.

Firearms weren't reallly the only thing she was selling, you noticed. There were holo-shields, vibro-blades, shoulder paudrons, darts and- was that a kama?

-"It's a nice arsenal you've got here" - you strap Ezra's bag to your shoulder and carefully take the folded fabric to analyze its flexible leather. It was lacking a utility belt to secure it, but seemed to be in very good conditions for something that old; you notice how the style didn't match with any of the ones you'd seen mandalorians wear, much less one of the native fighters from Rotas V. Which means it must have been worn by a clone trooper of the old republic back in the Clone War.

-"It's a keen eye you've got" - the lady retorts, setting down her datapad -"but that's not a skirt, you know that, right?"

She looks amused, almost like she's testing to see if you know the real value of the things offered here. You've got to hand it to her, everything seemed legit; wich only makes you question even more how did she get those things in the first place. She stares at you for a few seconds and briefly reaches for something from below the small counter, placing it on top of a pile of restraining bolts.

It's a dark grey and blue kama, the same size as the one you're holding, though it seems like it has seen better days. The pattern's more detailed in this one: diagonal lines that meet in the middle, forming an arrow-like shape framed by a black seam. The colour reminded you of a worn-out shade of blue similar to the one Captain Rex uses to paint the last pieces of his armour - and you wonder if it's just a sad coincidence or probably the last remainings of a fellow soldier from the 501st.

-"Straight from Coruscant, my great-uncle got a hold of it few days before the Empire became... well, the Empire" - her tone was something you'd been told to avoid using in public when speaking of the Empire. Perhaps it was that courage that had gotten your full attention in the end. Was she with the rebellion in some way as well?

-"Hasn't been worn ever since it was stripped from a dead clone's body" - she continues, checking you up and down - "and maybe it's a bit more your style".

-"Looks decent enough" - you comment and she nods her head in aknowldedgement - "but it does raise the question: how and why are you selling these things... here?"

-"Well, for starters, it's harder to get caught out here. Some of these aren’t exactly... legitimate purchases, as one would say.” - you raise an eyebrow and she chuckles - “this is a legitimate business, I swear. It’s just that my family’s been having difficulties and we're having to sell some relics.”

You can see she's telling the truth as she takes back the kama you'd first grabbed to the side, folding it again. You reach for a different credit pouch out of your pocket: your personal credits.

-"I see. Well, I do need a new blaster, and this one looks like the best i've ever seen in months. Despite the clogged barrel, of course."

-"shall we start negociating a price, then?" - she takes the datapad back and types a few numbers. Before you can say anything, however, you turn back to see Ezra rushing towards you looking desperate.

-"Oh, thank the Force, there you are!" - he brushes the long hair out of his forehead, not sparing a glance to the lady behind the counter -"you just walked off! I didn't know where you were!

Faced with a confused expression from the both of you, he scowls

-"I was at the bathroom! You didn't hear me telling you to wait for me?"

You look at him, suddenly tuning back to reality. All of those relics seemed to have filled you with a melancholic sadness you didn't know, but you managed to snap out of it the moment Ezra came back.

-"Can't believe you forgot me just because of this old junk" - he grumbles, a bit offended. You take his hand into your own.

-"I didn't forget you, Ezra, I swear. I was just distracted for a moment, that's all" - you reassure him, placing some credits on the tray where the lady collected them.

-“I'll be taking this, please” - you take the purse back off of your shoulders and hand it back to Ezra - “you can start taking this back to the ship. I think the list is over, I'll just be taking this and go."

-"wait, Hera didn't tell you to buy this, did she?"

-"It's a personal purchase, with my personal credits. I think I'm allowed that much, right?" - you give him the money bag again, and he shoves in his jacket.

-"Well, can you at least get me something as compensation for forgetting all about me back there?" - you scoff and let go of his hand to slap him on the shoulder

-"Just go along Bridger. I'll be there in a minute"

You turn back to the vendor, who's placing the pistol in a bag with the holster that came along in a slightly larger bag ithan necessary. You also notice the shape of the folded kama peaking though it.

-"Wait, wait! I didn't buy that, I don't have enough credits for that!"

-"Just... consider it a gift" - she smiles and winks - "this specific piece here doesn't really fit anyone's style, anyway. It's better off with you, trust me."

Before you can mutter any type of 'thanks', Ezra calls for you again, making sure you didn't forget your own head back there. You run off to him without looking back, ready to smack him Zeb-style before taking his hand again, reminding him gently he'd never have to worry about being abandoned by you.

#ezra bridger fic #ezra bridger x y/n #ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger imagine #ezra bridger #sw rebels

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard, dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

Tag list: @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @terrm9@starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @jamespotterthefirst @lisha1valecha @writer-ish @maurine07 @drakewalkerfantasy@iemcpbchoices @liaromancewriter @lem-20 @lucy-268 @oldminniemcg @queencarb @qrkowna @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @utterlyinevitable @stygianflood @udishaman @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @binny1985 @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @archxxronrookie @tinkertailorsoldierspy @schnitzelbutterfingers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @theinvisibledreamergirl @custaroonie @irisofpurple @chasingrobbie @ethandaddyramseyx @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict @takemyopenheart @aworldoffandoms @potionsprefect @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #Ethan Ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #mental health awareness

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honeyspence · 3 years

Text

a year in clueless love

the love story that is you and spencer reid. follows a year of the two of you being hopeless (and very stupid) romantics.

tw: teeniest bit of spice, mentions of canon typical violence and guns

a/n: doesn’t really follow a specific episode or case. kind of all over the place. also i picture like,, post prison reid in this? who’s a little more confident and up front but still terrified of losing you/ getting hurt. enjoy!! :)

In retrospect, it had been obvious. The way the two of you sought each other out in every room, like it was gravity. They way it didn’t matter if you were on the jet, on the field, or just at Quantico, the two of you were always touching each other. Thighs pushed together, hands brushing under the table, an arm around your shoulders, elbows bumping against each other; always touching. The way you were able to communicate by just looking at each other, which Garcia was convinced was simply telepathy. All in all, you probably didn’t do the best job at hiding whatever was going on with you and Spencer, and it didn’t exactly help that your family/ best friends/ colleagues were the FBI’s top profilers. They pretty much had it figured out before the two of you did.

In January, Morgan and Garcia decided to keep track. Keep track of the moments you and Spencer were so obviously, deliriously, stupidly falling in love. Morgan had to restrain Garcia from squealing every morning when Spencer brought you coffee and every evening when he walked you to your car. In January, the BAU took a case in Kansas; your first case on the field with the team. You tried your best to hide the nerves, but Spencer, of course, noticed as soon as you were on the jet.

“You okay?”

“Yup!” you say, a little too enthusiastically. Spencer raises an eyebrow. “You suck at lying.” It's a bit worrying, how you’ve only known each other for a couple months but he knows you oh so well already. You quirk a smile at him.

“I’m fine, really. I guess.. I’m just a little nervous. Wanna make a good impression.”

He laughs, and you wish you could replay it as soon as it’s over. “You’ll do great. Everyone already loves you- especially Hotch.” (This is true, Emily told you she hadn’t ever seen Hotch smile until the day you brought him his favorite coffee and a bagel on his birthday.) “Thanks Spence.” You nudge his shoulder with your own and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

Of course, this exchange didn’t go unnoticed. Morgan, everso dedicated to his “make Spencer find love” mission, added it to his list and texted Garcia so fast you might’ve thought it was an emergency.

In February, Emily and JJ joined Morgan and Garcia in their list making, inspired by an exchange they had witnessed in the office. On a dreary Monday, you had brought a bag of M&Ms and were dropping handfuls in your team’s hands, rambling about how Monday was your favorite day because you got to see your team. When you arrived at Spencer’s desk, smiling broadly at him, hands outstretched with slightly melted, rainbow chocolate, how could he say no?

(He briefly remembered that he hated germs, but with you, he couldn’t bring himself to care.)

Emily’s jaw was practically on the floor.

“JJ,” she whisper-screeched. “Did you- Did you see Spence just-”

JJ is equally shocked. Spencer Reid didn’t even shake hands, much less take warm candy straight from someone’s hand. But of course, to him, you weren’t just someone. Garcia notices this quickly, and in minutes, the three of them are huddled with Morgan, who wastes no time in showing them his ever growing list.

In March, the team went to Chicago. The weather takes a bitter turn, and while you’re outside surveying a crime scene, a horrid wind hits. Spencer immediately noticed your gentle shivering, and without wasting a second, tugs his own jacket off and wraps you in it. His hands wrap around your own, warming your numb fingers without a second thought.

(Again, for a split second, he recalls that he hates germs and that your hands are probably sharing millions right now, but when he sees your grateful smile and feels your hands in his own, he can’t bring himself to give a damn.)

“Thank you Spence,” you sigh through chattering teeth, leaning slightly into him.

The cold turns the tip of Spencer’s nose pink, and it's all you can think about for the next week.

In April, the team had a particularly rough case. 5 children kidnapped, only 3 rescued. The parents of the two lost children’s reaction in front of the team was the worst part.

Rough cases affect everyone in different ways. Morgan gets broody and refuses to talk. Hotch writes in his notebook and facetimes Jack, reminding himself of the good things he has. Emily likes to sketch, says that the pattern of lines calms her. Rossi, believe it or not, chooses to meditate. JJ finds peace in baking, making enough to feed your team for days. Spencer, of course, turns to his books.

In April, Spencer learns that you get touchy. Of course, you already were, but after particularly bad cases, it’s a little more extreme. Hands constantly somewhere on someone (usually Spencer) whether it be hand holding, hair braiding, or cuddles. You just wanted to be near someone. In April, Spencer was that someone. A blanket wrapped around the two of you on the jet heading home, Spencer fighting a blush. Hands knotted together under the blanket, your thumb moving back and forth slowly on his hand. Your head on his shoulder, his head resting gently on top. His fingers thumbed at his book, but in all honesty he was too focused on you, already half asleep in his arms.

In May, Rossi has a birthday party. The team gathers at his home, where everyone enjoys his famous pasta and what is probably far too much wine for 4 in the afternoon.

Wine drunk FBI agents are a lot more fun than you ever expected. You spend the afternoon laughing far too hard at Rossi’s old stories and playing hide and seek with Jack and Henry. You also spend far too long avoiding Derek’s pointed looks everytime Spencer holds a door for you or pours you a drink or, in Derek’s thoughts, does something that proves Spencer is so clearly head over heels in love with you.

In May, as the evening dies down, Rossi plays music you’ve never even heard before. Some old classical stuff you had never cared for, but when you see Spencer’s eyes light up with joy at the opening notes, you make a beeline to Rossi because you would do anything, including make yourself listen to classical music, just to have a reason to make Spencer’s eyes shine with happiness like that again.

“What song is this?” you ask Rossi, who gives you an incredulous look.

“You spend all this time with boy wonder over there and you can’t recognize Beethoven?”

You swat at his arm. He laughs at you, tells you it’s Moonlight Sonata, and then winks at you.

He very much knows why you asked, and his suspicions are proven true because right after, you practically skip towards Spencer.

He elbows Hotch and whispers under his breath, “I think our blind love birds might finally have a moment here.” The two of them quietly move the rest of the team inside, and suddenly it’s just you and Spencer outside.

In May, Spencer thinks he drooled when you told him you loved Moonlight Sonata. In a moment of what he can’t decide was brilliance or utter stupidity, he says to you,

“Will you dance with me?”

You’re a blushing, stuttering mess immediately (although he’s not much better), but you manage to tell him yes, absolutely.

In May, as the sun sets slowly, he takes your hand and you dance. He’s wonderful at it, and you’re dreadful, but he couldn’t care less because he has the most beautiful girl on the planet dancing with him. He can hardly believe he’s not dreaming, even when you trip over his feet and apologize a million times, because all he can think about is how beautiful you are, how the pink and orange glow of the sky lights you up like a goddess.

He twirls you, holding your twinkling gaze and biting back his absolutely massive smile as your green dress flows around you over and over again, the white flowers on it dancing with you.

(He never realized how much he loved green until he sees you in it. Then again, he thinks he’d love a garbage bag on you too.)

The air smells like spring and his cologne and his smile makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter so. Damn. Hard.

He whispers to you, “You’re beautiful,” as you rest on his chest, still slowly swaying to the music.

In May, you both leave Rossi’s house with your hearts doing cartwheels.

In June, Owen from 2 levels down asks you to coffee. Tells you he thinks you’re beautiful and that he would love to get to know you. You say yes, trying to ignore the tiny voice telling you that you didn’t want Owen, you want someone else.

In June, Spencer realizes he is hopelessly, terribly, ragingly jealous. He sees you talking to Owen, the gentle touching between you two, the moments of quiet intimacy Spencer realized he wanted with you so. Damn. Bad.

In June, Spencer just wants to go back to May. The night you two danced to Moonlight Sonata, your feet tripping over his and your perfume surrounding him. He curses himself for not telling you right then that you were all he wanted. He desperately wishes he had had the damn guts to kiss you that night.

In June, you go on two dates with Owen before ending it. He was funny, sweet, kind. But he didn’t go on tangents about The Illustrated Man with you. He didn’t bring you coffee in the morning or wear cardigans to work.

In June, Spencer is quietly overjoyed when you tell him you ended things with Owen, that he just “wasn’t right for you.”

In July, he was terrified. A case gone horribly wrong ended with you in the ICU, a bullet lodged in your side. In the bathroom of the hospital, he cried, thinking about how desperately he wished it could have been him. Should’ve been him who took the bullet, should’ve been him in critical condition. How badly he wishes he told you how he felt about you the moment he saw you with Owen. When he comes out, Morgan wraps his arms around him and he is scared.

When the nurse comes out, he braces himself for the worst, pushing the panic down. The thought of losing you- he can’t bring himself to look up when she stands in front of him. When she says that you’re alright and resting, he nearly collapses with relief. When she says you can have visitors now, he is immediately on his feet and rushes until he is by your side.

You sleep as he sits on the chair next to you, far after the rest of the team leaves. Hotch had asked him to get back and get rest, but he refused, instead sitting on the hospital chair with his hand holding your own, like he had all those months ago when he gave you his coat in Chicago.

He watches your gentle breathing, thinking about how peaceful and happy you look in your sleep, despite your recent brush with death. And when you wake up, he presses your hand to his lips and tells you with teary eyes to never, ever scare him like that again.

“I’ll try,” you yawn. “You didn’t have to stay here, ya know. You need to sleep.”

“As if I can sleep when you’re here. Nope, no way. Idiot.” He says, and you hear how his voice is slightly choked up as he starts rambling about how having visitors in the hospital is statistically more beneficial. You can’t quite lift yourself up yet, but you grab his hand and bring it to your own lips as he had done, and press it there for a moment.

(He is blushing. So hard he trails off and stops talking, instead too focused on the way your lips on his hand are so soft. So pretty and gentle and pink and-)

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you for staying. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You say, your heart pounding.

The team comes back in the morning and finds both you and Spencer fast asleep, his head on your hospital bed, your hands knotted tightly. Morgan complains about how long his list has gotten.

In August, Spencer asked you on a date. Well, he doesn’t call it a date. He calls it “dinner with a friend.” But he desperately wants to call it a date. He picks you up from your apartment with a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that,” you say, batting his arm while trying to hide your delight. (No one had ever bought you flowers on a date before.)

But Spencer is so busy staring at you, all dolled up in a little red dress you just knew he’d love.

“N-No- I mean yes, yes I did,” he stumbled. “I mean, you look… you look stunning.”

He takes you to a new Italian place, where you eat on the terrace under the stars and he absolutely refuses to let you touch the bill. He talks to you about his mom, about Mexico, and at the end of it all, he tells you that you make him feel safe. Like he can be himself and ramble on and on; like he can breathe. In August, Spencer drives you home and walks you to your doorstep with your arm looped through his own, your head on his shoulder.

In August, Spencer kissed you so gently, so carefully in front of your front door you think he feared you might break. He held you like a porcelain doll, delicately but oh-so tightly. His lips up against yours, timidly, softly, sweetly, and you felt yourself melt into a fucking puddle when he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours.

In September, you took him to your favorite bookstore. It was a tiny place with a flower garden in front and shelves lined with hundreds of books. It smelled like coffee and old books and lavender, and when you walked in, arm and arm with Spencer, you knew this was heaven. The two of you sat at a little table in the corner for hours, drinking coffee and sharing doughnuts and reading. So much reading. When you finally leave, he buys you the three books you had been reading (at his recommendation.)

“No- no Spence stop!” you say, trying to wrestle his arm away from the checkout. He just laughs at you and pays for them.

In September, Spencer asks you to be his girlfriend outside of the bookstore. He was a clumsy, nervous wreck, but he was finally your clumsy, nervous wreck.

In October, you and Spencer were a secret from the rest of your team. Work lives and personal lives just needed to stay separate, you decided.

(The irony of this was not lost on either of you.)

October was spent with kisses in quiet corners and sneaking into hotel rooms like high schoolers when you were traveling for cases. It was a month of countless movie marathons and Spencer falling asleep with you in his arms, countless mornings of driving each other to work and Spencer’s hand on your thigh. Longing stares at each other from across the office, little doodles and notes left on post-its on each other's desks. Hands knotted together under tables, quiet hugs whenever they seemed the least suspicious. Spencer bringing you flowers on every date, you kissing the tip of his nose in thanks and smiling when it always turns pink.

(He still says it’s from the cold. You’re starting to think you just have that effect on him.)

Of course, when you work with profilers, they tend to notice these things. Yet, none of them put together that you and Spencer were actually together. They just kept building their now massive list and watched the two of you fall even harder. Watched you take Garcia’s unicorn stickers and leave them on Spencer’s cheek, where he would leave it there for hours. Watched Spencer bring you a new book every Monday and then discuss it with you every Friday.

In October, Spencer had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and yours already halfway off. Gentle kisses up and down your neck, hands wandering up and down your body. Pulled you into his room, stared at you with those warm brown eyes you absolutely adored. Your hands in his hair, his mouth on your own when someone knocks on the door.

“Maybe,” he pants breathlessly against you,”Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll just leave.” You’re in no position to argue; you have no desire to stop. You hum in agreement and pull him back to you when the knock gets harder and you hear, “Spencer! Open the door, it’s Garcia and Morgan!”

Your first instinct is to literally hide. The worst two people to find you like this, but here they were. Spencer convinces you this is a bad idea and throws you your clothes as the two of you scramble to look presentable and like you were absolutely not doing what you absolutely had been doing.

In October, you thought you managed to convince Morgan and Garcia that you two were just hanging out. They left Spencer’s apartment in a whirlwind of giggles and were elated. Needless to say, the rest of your team was alerted to your antics within the next 10 minutes.

In November, you had the “big confrontation.” Also known as Hotch pulling the two of you into his office with a stern look.

(Which he was actually struggling very hard to hold because he was so-very-happy-Spencer-was-happy and the-joy-radiating-off-the-two-of-you-was-quite- frankly-contagious.)

He tells you not to be all over each other in the office and to remain professional and blah blah blah, but Spencer swears that Hotch actually smiled when the two of you left his office.

In November, your team is overjoyed. Garcia tears up when you take Spencer’s hand in front of the team. Morgan and Rossi offer to throw a party the first time they watch Spencer kiss you on the cheek. JJ and Emily squeal when you sneak your arms around Spencer’s waist while he packs up. And Hotch, Hotch struggled to hide how goddamn happy he was. He was so thankful every time he saw you together, because you radiated smiles and happiness and joy, which was something he knew Spencer always needed more of. When Spencer fell asleep on the jet after a grueling case, his head on your shoulder and your head gently on his, Hotch couldn’t resist taking a picture.

For your 3 months, Spencer brings you a gift on your way to work. He’s a burning, blushing red when he hands you the package wrapped messily (and very sweetly) in pastel pink wrapping paper, your name scrawled across the top and decorated with hearts, making your own heart glow.

When you open it, you think your heart actually manages to burst. He bought the two of you fluffy gray cardigans, each with an embroidered pink heart on the right. He’s looking shyly at you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, a blush still dancing on his cheeks, as if he can’t tell how much you absolutely adore it.

You make it obvious when you fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your head in the crook, and you can feel him exhale the nervous breath he had been holding. He smells like fresh laundry and old books and the cinnamon cake you made that morning. He holds you like you’re his lifeline, and you feel his smile against your head.

“I’m so glad you like it, I was so nervous and I- I didn’t know you’d think it was stupid-”

“Shut up.” You kiss him. He shuts up.

“I love it Spencer.”

In November, you learn Spencer gives the best presents and the best hugs.

In December, you have your first fight. It was stupid- you had been working a case and Spencer had asked you not to go to the suspects house with Emily because you resembled the unsub's type. You went anyways, and as Spencer feared, the unsub went ballistic when you tried to apprehend him and you were separated from the rest of the team.

He took you into his car and stole your gun. He pressed it to your temple and attempted to drive away with one hand, but Morgan saved you. Shot straight through the window and into the unsub’s head, his blood all over you. You stumbled out of the car where Morgan grabbed you and hugged you. Took you back to the team, where Spencer could barely look at you.

You reassured him you were fine afterwards nothing had even happened, but he didn’t care. He had asked you, and you had ignored. You were so close to leaving him. Forever. In December, Spencer left the jet and went to his apartment without saying goodbye to you for the first time. In December, you avoided each other for a whole week.

In December, you went to his apartment with a book in your hands. A peace offering. He answered the door in your favorite blue cardigan and you let it out. You apologized, pouring your heart out, and you said it. And to your absolute relief, he wrapped his arms around you and apologized as well. And he said it back.

In December, Spencer Reid told you that he couldn’t bear to lose you. That the thought of it had made him realize- he was head over heels in love with you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer read x reader #spencer reid gif #spencer reid blurb #mgg x y/n #mathew gray gubler #spencer reid story #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you

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jarofstyles · 4 years

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Dirty Business V- Affogato

A/N: HI!!! sorry for the long wait, we’ve been really busy with life, but we wanted to get some stuff out for you! We’ve taken some of the requests about this series into consideration and tried our best to fit in everything we could. If it’s not in this part, it will likely be in the next! We’re thinking two more parts for them? let us know you’re thoughts! - n + d

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, FILTHY dirty talk, rough sex, use of toys 👉🏼👈🏼

word count: 6.8k

Things were going amazingly for the two love birds.

Harry had been excelling at his job, it seemed everyday Y/N’s father was giving him praises. Y/N had felt secure enough to return her focus on her boutique, expanding the store online and even dabbling in designing some of her own clothes. The anniversary of her father’s company was coming up, the big 50th, and as usual she knew to expect a special event to be planned where all of his most coveted employees, partners, clients, and investors would be invited to attend. Food, drinks, live music, the whole lot. It was the talk of the year. Y/N also knew that this meant that Harry would be meeting her mother far sooner than she had hoped. The pair had been together for about 3 months now, stable and in the groove so it seemed right, but she knew how her mother could be. How unpleasant she was especially when it came to things that Y/N loved doing.

“Babe? you sure this is alright?” Harry called over to her general direction. Y/N had bought him some Gucci suit— well, called up her friend who worked the head and asked for one? Giving them Harry's photo and measurements. It was a black with a silky pattern and he didn’t know much about it other than the designer and he liked it. “I feel like I look expensive. Kind of like a prick.” He smiled. “Love it though.” He had her hands going through his hair before and he missed the feeling. Y/N was much more relaxed with him. Calmer. Soothed. Like a different person and not as anxious or on edge. When they had gone away to Paris it was similar, but here at their home, she was on edge. Especially today. “Oi, my love. Where did you go?” He peeked out to her bedroom from the en suite, seeing the room empty, before he heard the heels clicking down the hall.

“I’m here, baby! One second!” Y/N came walking back, just having finished slipping on her dress, she just needed to get a few extra things. Accessories for herself and for Harry to complete the look. As promised, she had gotten him a Rolex, a small congratulations for moving up in the company, but also because she felt like he deserved it for being so incredible. A wide smile spread across her face when she saw him, admiring him in the sleek suit that hugged his body just perfectly. “Mmm I think you look perfect.” Y/N cooed, walking closer to him and gently playing with the lapels of his jacket. He had learned well from her, the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned only slightly and it definitely gave him that youthful expensive look. Y/N hooked her finger in his necklaces and tugged him closer to her, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Thank god for liquid lipstick, not that she cared about him having lipstick stains on his lips. “Give me your wrist. Close your eyes.” She spoke, pecking his lips in between each sentence.

Harry was so lucky. He was reminded every time he saw his woman but— there was that blank in his head that wondered just how the fuck he had been able to resist this woman for so long. She was perfect for him. In all aspects.

“Hm?” He pouted when she pulled away, her immaculate lipstick that matched her dress perfectly not budging at all. It was amazing. Some feminine magic he didn’t know about. “A surprise?” He raised a brow, not sure what it was. But, the man complied, closing his eyes when he felt a cold metal on his wrist. At first he thought she was being kinky but it wasn’t a handcuff. It was... a bracelet? A watch? Too heavy just for jewelry. When she told him to open, he nearly passed out. A fucking Rolex. The cheapest he had seen being 4 grand. But he knew this one was leaps and bounds more expensive considering the fact it was gold. “Y/N...” Harry breathed, eyes wide. “Baby... What is this?”

“Congratulations, my love.” Y/N cooed, pressing another kiss to his lips. “On the promotion, on making waves... Every businessman deserves a good watch... can tell a lot about a man by his watch. I wanted the best man I know to have the best watch.” She blushed and gave a squeeze to the hand she held. “Do you like it?” She asked sweetly, a bit shy because she knew she went a bit overboard with gifts but she felt like it was the least she could do. Y/N knew that all this money her family had went nowhere and she would rather spend it on him, someone who deserved it, than let it set collecting dust. Y/N knew once he took over the company that he’d be donating all the money he didn’t have use for. “I know you don’t necessarily like me spending lots of money on gifts, but... you’ll have this watch forever and ever and you can pass it down and everything and it will always remind you of your successes and humble beginnings and your hard work.”

“Yeah— I wanted to yell at you for spending so much but I know it’s cause... your heart is there.” He sighed, looking it over. His Y/N. His sweet, lovely, beauty. So generous and thoughtful. Pulling her in, a sweet kiss was given to her lips, repeated a few times. “Thank you. You’re the best.” She was one of the best things, if not the best thing to happen to him. “Trust me. I adore you. And I adore this watch. But if you buy me something ten grand again, I will spank your little ass until it’s bruised.” He brought a hand down for a warning spank and smirked when she squealed. “I love it. Wow.... now. How about we get going?” He smoothed the hair from her face. “Precious girl. You’re so lovely. I can’t wait to show off that you’re mine.” At work he didn’t let her bet too touchy. But outside of work, he had gotten a bit too happy with it!

Y/N was happy to hear that he liked the watch, she would happily take a spanking for spending loads of money on him. He definitely deserved it. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how much all of these clothes cost either. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him though. She had her driver come pick the two of them up, thankfully, Oliver was with Niall for tonight so he wouldn’t have to be alone for god knows how long. These things usually dragged on for hours but as long as the two of them made it to at least midnight, they’d be fine. Besides, Y/N was sure she could manage to sneak them away somewhere.

----

When they arrived at the hotel, Y/N hooked her arm in his and put on her best resting bitch face. Everyone there knew who she was of course, but it was Harry’s first time attending. He looked incredible and she could feel the eyes on him. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself, knowing she had a catch. Harry was perfect.

“Relax.” Harry kissed her cheek. Oh, how he wished she could be her bubbly and happy self here. “It’s alright. I can feel your nerves from here, my love. I’m here.” He cupped the side of her face with his free hand, kissing her forehead too. It was amazing to see her other persona pop up, incredible even. She was so easy to speak to people with this mask on and fake laughed at things while he observed and talked every so often. He would linger at her side and pull her in, kiss the side of her head or whisper funny things that came to mind. She was slowly relaxing but never enough.

“Styles, my boy!” Y/N’s father’s voice called from behind. “Princess, you look beautiful.” He complimented before turning to look at Harry. “Love seeing you two together.” As much as Y/N wanted to believe he meant that in a genuine way, she knew he really just liked the fact that his favorite employee was dating his daughter, that his legacy and company was in good hands.

Y/N instantly stiffened up, hating that she didn’t even get a chance to brief or warn Harry about her mother. She knew I’d her father was there she wouldn’t be far behind. Keeping up this illusion that they actually loved one another. The all too familiar clicking of heels coming her way informed her that that moment was coming even sooner than she hoped. Y/N certainly didn’t have a great relationship with her mother and no matter how old she was she still felt her anxiety spike whenever she was around. Be it the comments she made on her life choices or how she looked, she always managed to spoil her mood.

“Y/N?” Her mother asked with a raised brow, looking between her and Harry with a look of surprise. “Is this your boyfriend your father has been raving about?” She spoke in a tone only Y/N could read as sarcasm. The look on her face gave it away to others though.

“Yes, he is. Harry, this is my mother. Mother, this is my boyfriend, Harry.”

Harry held her to him. She had tensed up next to him and he felt it as she got upset. She tried not to show it.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He extended a hand to greet her. He was prepared slightly for the grimace when she took his hand, shaking it weakly. Oh, great. “You’ve raised a lovely young woman. I enjoy her company very much.” He complimented, trying to make this pleasant— but he knew Y/N wasn’t the fondest of her mother and he was prepared for something to go wrong. Anything. He was concerned.

“Dear, this is Harry. He’s been treating Y/N very well and a very good worker.” Her father tried to soften the blow of what was going to come.

“Charmed.” Her mother answered in her usual snobby tone. The woman was never impressed by anyone or anything really. No amount of money could buy this woman happiness or passion. She was bitter. For what reason? No one was sure. “Just how well can he treat her if she bought everything he’s wearing?” Her mother countered, very much able to sniff out her daughter's sense of fashion. She was aware that her husband never hired anyone with money, no, people with money always had motives. He always hired potential.

The comment made Y/N’s blood boil. She felt like she was seeing red. Y/N finally felt like she had a positive influence on her life, felt like someone was making her into a better version of herself and her mother had to step in and invalidate it.

“He treats me so well that I struggle to walk most days...you must have forgotten how that feels, yeah?” The words flew out of her mouth before she could even think. She just needed to get something out even if it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say to her mother. Then again, she wouldn’t take disrespect from anyone.

Harry closed his eyes at her comment. Jesus Christ, Y/N. He wasn’t taking her mother’s comments seriously but she had blurted out a very obvious innuendo about the fact Harry fucked her so good she was wobbly, the first time meeting her mother.

“Baby...” He chuckled, squeezing her sides. “Is money more important than how your daughter is treated, ma’am?” He said it a bit loudly, knowing her husband was looking more amused than anything. He wouldn’t get in trouble for this. “While I’m saving money for our future and showering her in more affection and love then anyone else with a hundred million in their bank accounts ever would, I am happy. I think your daughter is very happy with me. She buys me things and I buy her things. Our relationship isn’t transactional, ma’am. It never will be either.”

The older woman looked them both up and down, taking a sip of her champagne and letting out a sigh. “It’s not about the money, it’s about our reputation...” She answered and let out a sigh. “Then again, she’s never been good at making choices that represent our family well.” She rolled her eyes.

Y/N didn’t even have a chance to say a word before her father moved his arm in between the two. “It was actually my idea, dear... Harry is the closest thing to a son I have and he will be the next in line when I step down... regardless if he is with our daughter or not.” He stated calmly, “Please, do not bring this nonsense into tonight’s celebration.”

Y/N was left speechless at her father’s statement. The entire interaction further proved her beliefs that she wasn’t really an important member of the family. She was merely there. Her father so calmly defended Harry, said he’d have the job regardless of Y/N being in the picture or not. It was like a shot to her stomach.

“Well what a shame that is.” Her mother sighed, looking around the room to find someone else to talk to before excusing herself and leaving the group all together.

“Excuse us, sir.” Harry gently took Y/N’s arm and led her out to the back patio, knowing she felt upset. He could just... feel it. The energy of the room wasn’t helping her and the fact people had been looking. Weaving through people, he gave professional smiles with little nods before he got to the doors, taking notice of some of the people out there and walking towards the empty side. It was a time that he knew her well enough to know she needed some alone time to recharge. Most of all, she needed a hug.

Y/N was stunned, her face stone cold as the two of them walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air. She couldn’t bring herself to cry about her parents again, couldn’t bring herself to cry in front of all these people. It was just a kick to the stomach really, the one this she had been prepared for but was hoping to avoid.

Harry gripped her waist and held the back of her head to his chest, sighing when he felt her rest herself against him. His back was taking the blow so no one could see her being vulnerable.

“My baby.” He soothed, petting her hair. “You alright? Not the best interaction hm?” Her hair smelled so good and he focused solely on her, not focusing on any possible business opportunities. She was his priority. “I’m sorry I got loud with her. I didn’t mean to but I don’t want her to speak about our relationship like that.” Harry muttered. “I won’t let people disrespect you or us like that.”

“‘s not your fault, Harry...” Y/N spoke softly, “no need to apologize, you did everything right.” Y/N added and allowed herself to close her eyes and relax into him. “I didn’t want you to meet her...” She said in a quiet whisper, “She has a way of getting into your head… I didn’t want her to... to make you feel like I wasn’t proud of you or that I’m not proud to show you off...” Y/N didn’t really care what her mother said at this point, she knew she was wrong. It was the way her father defended Harry first that really made her upset. “Do you believe me now?” She asked quietly, pulling back to look at him with worry in her eyes. Y/N had told him about how her parents didn’t care about her as long as they had their money and reputation.

“Baby...” Harry’s heart broke. “I’ve believed you since you told me. I always believed you. I don’t know how they could feel that way but...” He smoothed his thumb over her face. “My darling girl. You always have me on your side.” It was nearly impossible for him to comprehend why either of them cared so much more about money and reputation than they did about the happiness and well being of their daughter but he wouldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t ever let anyone make any children of his feel that way. “She isn’t going to get into my head at all. I’m happy with you. I know who I am. You’ve made me feel so much more secure in that. Not the job, but just how it is. We need each other.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “You’re what I want to have and who I want to be with. No one can convince me otherwise. I want you. You’re my sweet girl. My angel. My baby. Yeah? No matter what shit she says or tries, I’m not going anywhere. She can’t change my mind.” Thumbs rubbed soothing circles into the girls skin, Harry’s eyes soft. “She’s probably going to have very, very limited time with our children though. Even supervised.”

Our children.

Y/N felt her heart flutter. Harry had said it to her before, sure, but to hear him say it so confidently again and to know he was thinking about it? Well, it just made everything feel better. Restored her confidence though it hadn’t faltered much like it usually did.

“Funny how you think she’s even going to get to meet our children.” Y/N mumbled, looking up at him with her brows furrowed and nose scrunched. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she thought it was but his fond little laugh was worth the attempt. “I love you.” She told him again, her voice gentle and sweet. Y/N had saved saying it for moments like these and though he still hadn’t said it back to her, she didn’t mind the wait. “So much.” Harry was truly her rock. Had he not been here, had he not been the way he was, Y/N would have reacted much differently and would likely be making a scene. She had gotten so much better. “But the company is yours regardless... you heard it straight from the horse's mouth.” Y/N said to him with a small smile, “How does that make you feel?” She asked and moved her hands up to play with the unbuttoned portion of his shirt.

“I love you even more, my sweet girl.” Harry pulled her in for a few sweetened kisses to make her smile a bit more than she had. He did love her, the girl was so lovely. He would risk it all for her, every bit. “It feels nice that the company is mine, but I’d choose you before I chose it.” That's the truth. For a long time at the beginning he was trying to focus on that but she had brought him so much happiness, so much self love for himself and he was head over heels for the woman.

“You love me?” She asked, needing to pause for a moment to make sure she heard him right. Y/N was over the moon. Sure, they might have had a very unpleasant conversation with her mother, but that didn’t change how Harry felt about her. That was all the support and love she needed. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to press a sweet, passionate kiss against his lips. For years she was convinced she needed to be someone else to be loved, for a few months she thought maybe she needed to be someone else for Harry to love her. That wasn’t true at all. He loved her. And she loved him.

“Yes. I love you very much. Do you want to go home, my lovely? Can drink some champagne on the car ride back and go back. Cuddle a bit....” Harry knew that champagne made her frisky. Harry mainly wanted to get her out of the same place as her mother and wanted to be selfish with his time with her.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Y/N asked sweetly, “Just for a little longer.. we just got here. Go mingle a bit, I’ll behave. I promise I’m fine.” Y/N cooed, pushing a few pieces of hair away from his eyes. “Lets go inside yeah? We’ll stay for a little and then we can go back..”

“But... what if I want to go home?” Harry murmured, cupping her cheek again so he could kiss her again. Not having gotten enough beforehand. He wanted to kiss. And kiss, and kiss, and then spread her open and fuck. He had so much love for this woman right now. It was growing every day but he was hit hard with it. “Just want to be alone with you and remind you how much I utterly adore you and your every bit.” He nibbled her bottom lip lovingly, pulling back. Their sex life was erratic. Some weeks just having cuddles but others being full on fuck fests. Right now, he wanted an even mix. “C’mon. Want to be close to you.” He slid a hand down her body to rest on her ass. “You’ll give me that, yeah?”

Oh.

Harry wasn’t usually this forward, it was often Y/N who wanted to love up on him and have him completely and utterly ruin her. Not Harry who was pleading for them to leave an event that could be important for work. Oh how the tables have turned. This was a welcomed change though.

“Is that so?” Y/N murmured truly surprised by the way he was acting, but she was going along with it. She wanted to see what could come of tonight. “Of course I’ll give that to you, baby, I’m just—” She bit her lip when his hand squeezed her ass tighter. “Okay, alright!” Y/N giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.” She decided they’d slip away unnoticed. No one would really look for them. The cars were already waiting out front and Y/N made sure she snatched a bottle of champagne for them to take in the car with them.

Harry felt like the kitten who had gotten the cream— even though he hadn’t quite yet. He had gotten her to leave, was touchy and finally got her in the car where they finished the bottle of champagne quickly. He pulled her closer to him, feeling like a needy puppy with the way he nuzzled at her neck. A hand slid up the slit of her dress and touched the softness of her inner thighs, purring at the heat of them.

“Haven’t told you how much I love this dress.” He muttered against her neck. “S’so lovely. But I want to get you out of it.” He was only slightly buzzed but he felt even more in love right now. “Want to see somethin’ like this on you when you’re pregnant. Mmm— fuck, that’ll look so gorgeous. Can’t wait for that.” He had a bit of him that hadn’t realized how much he had a bit of a breeding kink until she showed up. The idea of filling her and letting the cum catch in her, claiming her in that most primal way? It was godly. “When are you gonna let me, pet?”

Y/N was definitely feeling the champagne because his comment caught her off guard for a moment. She remembered when he first told her about this kink of his, how he wanted to put a baby in her and just... pretend that that was the goal. How he had a thing for knowing he could get her pregnant. She had been on birth control for a while and they’d been having sex without protection for a while. There was really nothing to fear. All she had to do was give in, let that primal instinct take over and let him live this fantasy that quite frankly, turned her on. The way he wanted to be a father of her child, the way he wanted to see her stomach swell with life. It was hot.

“Wanna put a baby in me?” Her glossy eyes looked at him, a loopy smile on her face as his fingers pressed against her skin.

“Mmmm. Yeah, so bad.” Harry rubbed his face against her. “Sooo fuckin’ bad, bunny. Just want to stuff you up full, over n’ over again and make you hold it in. Even tho’ it looks so pretty drippin’ out. Love cleaning it with my tongue but I want it to catch.” He sighed. He thinks perhaps it’s a mix of the alcohol buzz and the way he felt like maybe she truly needed to see his desire for him that set him free. He really wanted her to be able to see that he was so into her, he never wanted to leave. Ever. Add in the fact she just made him unbelievably horny. “Wanna get it all stuffed in that little tummy of yours, yeah? Just... wreck you n’ make you cry from his good it is, then keep fillin’ you up.” He muttered. “Jus’ wanna get inside cause I’m so hard. Want to fuck. Get back inside my pussy.” He always referred to her cunt as his own, and he knew she liked it even if she didn’t tell him that.

“Daddy..” A whimper left Y/N’s mouth at his words, her whole body heating up with a sudden burning desire to be at her home and in a car with the partition up. Goosebumps spread across her skin as he continued to speak, lips brushing against her sensitive neck making her squirm. Between the alcohol and hormones, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. She dared to look out the window, seeing that they were only a few blocks away from her place. Thank god they weren’t driving all the way to Brooklyn, she would’ve had him fuck her right in this car. Y/N moved her hand to rub over his hard cock, giving it a slight squeeze. “What’s gotten into you, daddy?” Y/N smirked, her voice coming out much darker. “We’re almost there... then you can take me upstairs and do whatever you want. Anything.” She hummed, knowing that whenever they were in this mood something kinky always went down.

“Haven’t been in you in too long. I’m so... I want it.” Harry grunted against her neck. “Jus’ wanna be inside of you. You’re all hot and slick. I know it.” He moved his hand up and startled her, groaning against her skin as he felt his suspicions become reality. “Mmm— Yep. Knew you’d be wet for me.” He smirked to himself, placing his fingers on her pussy. He didn’t move them yet but kept hold of it. “S’all mine. Let me touch it whenever I want to just do this. Want to make you go crazy with how good it feels.” He muttered, kissing her jaw and finding her ear to talk into. The vibrations of his dark voice tingling against her, making her shudder. “Daddy’s hot little cunt. And you’re such an eager slut for it. Already slick for my cock. Gonna have a hard time keeping still when I lick your pussy up and get you cleaned up. Plus... have a bit of dessert.” He felt her shiver as he pressed his finger tighter against her.

Y/N inhaled sharply, feeling his fingers press against the place she needed him most. It had in fact been a while, a few days. It’s not long by most people’s standards, but for them? It had definitely been a while.

“Fuck, please—“ Y/N bit down on her lip as the car had come to a haunt. “Thank you!” She called today the driver, hesitantly pushing Harry to get out of the car as she followed with the empty bottle of champagne. Y/N threw it out in the trash can in the lobby, hoping her dress still sat correctly on her body after Harry had a proper feel in the car. Seeing him all drunk and disheveled, nice suit and hair a mess was the hottest fucking thing she’d ever seen. She swore it. Seeing that loopy smile and his hungry eyes on her was making her forget why they even went out in the first place. Y/N stumbled into the elevator with him and hit the button for the top floor, looking at him from over her shoulder. “What?” She giggled.

Harry grabbed her and pressed her front against the wall of the elevator, ankle hooking hers and knocking her legs open. Immediately his fingers found her cunt, sinking two inside of her. The shocked gasp and moan mix make him smirk, fingers moving in and out of her pussy.

“Couldn’t wait to feel it. Missed my pussy so fucking much.” He smeared his mouth over her jaw biting down gently. “Fucks sake, sometimes I think you forget that it belongs to me. S’daddy’s pussy. Think you need a proper reminder of that today.” He bit down on her ear this time, moving his fingers harder into her pussy, the slick little squelch of his fingers filling the enclosed space. She was squirming in his arms and making these noises— fuck. “Keep making those little mewls. Such a dirty kitten. Letting your daddy finger fuck you in the elevator.”

It was all so sudden. Y/N really thought he’d at least wait till they got inside, but before she knew it she was pressed up against the cool wall of the elevator, her heart racing. Harry really wasn’t playing tonight and Y/N surely wouldn’t underestimate him again.

“Fuck me— daddy, ah!” She whimpered out, cunt clenching against his fingers while they moved inside her. Her head fell back on to his shoulder, the feeling of him biting at her jaw and smearing kisses against her skin sending her wildest thoughts over the edge. “‘S your pussy daddy! Fuck— yours, all yours!” She pleaded, feeling herself shiver at the sound of her own slickness against his hands. Y/N had never been quiet and Harry was well aware of that, hitting all the right spots inside of her that would make her go crazy for him. “Please— please!” She begged, “feels so good! Don’t stop!” Y/N begged, knowing she could easily cum just from how insanely turned on she was.

Harry didn’t hesitate to make her cum. She came all over his hand in the elevator, a devilish grin on his face as he pressed his fingers in and curled them just so, having her drip all over the digits. He truly felt like he was going feral because he really couldn’t wait. He loved his Y/N so much, he felt the tiny bit of buzz hitting him and all he wanted to do was fuck. Show her how much he meant it every time he promised forever. How he cherished her pleasures. He had swiftly picked her up and thrown her over her shoulder when they’d gotten to her penthouse. Carrying her through the whole place to her bedroom with a dirty hand he had sucked clean and a squealing Y/N over his shoulder, he finally got to her bedroom.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me. Aren’t you?” Harry smirked while Y/N looked up with her innocent eyes and nodded, seeming to be in awe of his behavior. Harry hadn’t exactly gone this primal before but she was wet as fuck and he was as happy as could be. Taking his tie off, he smirked down at her and held it in front of him. “Wrists.” He demanded. At the rapid blinking, he gripped her throat, leaning down over her. “Don’t make me ask for them again. Give me your wrists.” It was quickly after that, she was stripped and they were tied and held to the headboard. Naked and all at his mercy, Harry stalked the end of the bed with a dark gleam in his eye. “Look so pretty, my sweet girl. Innocent, if it wasn’t for your drippy little cunt making a mess of those expensive sheets.... Said they were silk, didn’t you?” He chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. “Where are the toys?” At a drunken 2 am they’d ordered sex toys one night and a little toy chest she had gotten for them, and he wanted to play with them.

“Daddy!” Y/N whined, but the sharp glare he sent in return immediately sent darts of hot arousal and a bit of fear through her. “Closet....” the whisper was given as she clenched her thighs together. Harry brought the chest out and hummed as he looked through things, happily finding what he was looking for.

“Ah!”

When Harry took out the wand vibrator, it had her heart racing faster. She hadn’t ever used one with someone else before. Usually she could control when she took it away and just how much she could handle at a time, but with the way Harry was acting... Y/N knew that he wasn’t going to be nice about it.

“Daddy... please, I just want you inside.” Y/N tried, not sure she could handle all that pleasure.

“Hm. It’s a shame I didn’t ask, isn’t it?” Harry knew that she would be okay with this, because he had gently asked her colors and she had genuinely responded green. He knew her well enough and had permission beforehand. They’d spoken about this being something they did anyways. “Now. I can see you’re all slicked up. Already came once tonight so I’ll be nice and make sure this one is even better.” He cooed, leaning down over it and spitting right on it. The flinch had him grinning, Y/N moaning and bucking her hips at the sensation of it.

As soon as the vibrator was clicked on, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Still sensitive from the knee weakening orgasm from the elevator, the buzzing had her legs stiffening.

“Oi.... keep them open.” Harry scolded. “Daddy’s been so nice to you. So sweet. And now you’re out and trying to take away my fun?” He gave a faux pout, but his voice was thick with arousal.

“I forgot about how much of a slut you are sometimes. Been so gentle with you lately but you really have been wanting a bit of fun.” He murmured, clicking up the setting.

Y/N was laying with her mouth open, breasts heaving with the way Harry moved the wand up and down. The powerful vibrations had her shaking a tiny bit and she knew she wouldn’t last long. Another pitiful whine of his name had her getting a bit more pressure over her clit.

“Shhh. That’s my girl. Daddy’s dirty whore, hm? Can’t get enough.”

Her hips were bucking up and the heat coursing through her was intense. Harry’s behavior well was fueling this intense arousal. He was all man. All.... perfect for her. She loved being admired and needed and even a little bit degraded when it came down to it, and he was giving it to her.

“Fuck... look at you. Dripping down to your sheets and panting like a bitch in heat. All you want is cock inside your precious cunt, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Daddy, please. I’ll be so good. So, so good just... inside me!” Y/N pleaded, bucking her hips needily. Harry was so good to her. More generous than any other lover. More caring and loving in general but in bed, it was a whole other level.

“Begging... sounds so good coming from you.” Harry muttered, pressing the setting up as he leaned over her. “One more orgasm before you can take me. I know you love being filled up. Pounded. Like when your makeup gets all messy and smeared because you’re so fucked out you can’t breathe. I know that you want to be so sore in the morning that it’ll be obvious that you have the best cock in your bed.” Harry has also shown off his possessive side lately. Been increasingly so. “Want everyone to know and to see that you’re well taken care of. Daddy’s princess.” He muttered, watching her face.

Y/N was losing it. Her stomach was hot with heat and she kept bucking her hips and grinding into the wand Harry held firm against her cunt, playing with her breasts with gentle movements of his fingers. Two types of sensations.

“That’s it. I can see it.” Harry encouraged, it was obvious when she was close. “Be a good girl. Cum.”

At the demand, Y/N lost it. Shaking, she let out a gasped sob as her body writhed against the sheets, a squeal of his name and holding on to the tie holding her wrists to the board, her back arched and her whole body trembled in the best way possible. She didn’t even know what was happening as she felt her wrists get let go of, flopping to the bed. All she felt was herself being turned over to her stomach, propped her hips up with a pillow and then— fuck.

Harry filled her. A loud moan came from him, a pathetic whimper. Harry’s hand gathering her hair up and holding it firmly, cock buried deep inside of her for a moment before he began to go. There was no mercy with his thrusts. Hard, bed shaking, dirty. Leaning his body over her, speaking into her ear.

“That's it. This is what you were made for.” He muttered into her skin. “Made to be fucked by me. Act so spoiled all the time but no one knows... you come home, my sweet little angel. Want to be so sweet to me and then a needy little bitch in bed.” He cooed, hands slipping between them. He wasn’t going to last very long. “Had me all worked up all night with that sexy fucking dress, your pouty lips. I love it so much. My pretty girl. I love showing you off. I want to do it more.” He grunted as he pressed her further into the bed. “Mine. You’re all fucking mine. This pussy belongs to me. I want every fucking person to know that I’m yours. That you are mine. No one else gets to take you. I’m keeping you forever.” He wasn’t even hesitant to say that. He loved her. His woman was the only one for him. “Mine. Fuck... I’m gonna cum soon. You got me all worked. Fuck, I needed this pussy so bad. Needed you.” He groaned into her ear as he ran sloppy circles across her clit.

Y/N was more than happy to take it, whining loudly as she felt him take every bit of his cock and slam it in. Truly, she felt cock drunk, eyes crossed and mouth unable to close. She was so sensitive and needy, but she had let go completely in his hold. It felt like shocks every time he pounded into her and the stream of whimpers and little noises was loud but pitiful. She needed this so bad. To be fucked out by him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Plea-” Her whines got caught in her throat as his hand grabbed at her hair and pulled her back.

“Yeah? Begging to cum again like the good little cum slut?” Harry practically growled, “Squeeze for me, yeah… that’s it… fuck, you’re so good, so perfect.” He knew he wouldn’t last long. Her cunt felt like heaven. Nothing had ever felt better. With every thrust Harry felt like he was struggling to hold back his full power, essentially shoving his cock as deep as he could manage. Y/N’s sweet sounds of pleasure only edged him on, his own grunts and mutters begging her to cum for him so they could share a sweet release.

And my god was it sweet. A series of throaty moans left the both of them, nothing but the added sound of skin slapping against skin and the slickness of their climaxes filled the room. Harry slowed the pace of his moving hips and stayed hovering above his love whilst they caught their breath.

“You mean everything to me, you know that? Nobody, and I mean nobody will change that. You’re mine, Y/N. I love you.” Harry meant it with every fiber of his being.

He was going to marry this girl.

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A/N: hehehe fore-shadowing? 😈- n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #harry writing #CEO!Harry #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles

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lastwagontrainhopper · 3 years

Text

A guiding hand

Royai week day 2 - Serene (let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)

Summary: “She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”

---

The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation. (Blind!Roy)

Words: 2489

Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant

read on aot

“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.

"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”

Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.

"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”

"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.

"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”

Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”

A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”

"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”

Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”

"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”

This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.

As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.

"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."

"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."

He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”

"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.

Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred. Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.

Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.

And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.

This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.

But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.

"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”

Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.

"What? Who was?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”

Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”

"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”

Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”

He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.

After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."

Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”

"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."

Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”

He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."

"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."

She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."

If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."

She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”

Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.

Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.

She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.

Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”

To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.

"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”

Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.

He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"

Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."

He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.

Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.

"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."

Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.

“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.

"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."

Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.

"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."

Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.

"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”

His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”

#royaiweek21 #royai #blind roy #fma #fanfic

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oh-boy-me · 4 years

Text

Casual Outfits Discussed

@themarchinghare Ok >:3c

These hot takes analyses and opinions are based entirely on the concept art of the demon brothers’ casual outfits. So any in-game features not present in the concept art aren’t discussed. We’re looking at the outfit as a whole, but occasionally we do talk about individual features.

Also please don’t take this seriously, we just had a lot of fun shitting on the Seven Power Avatars of Sin, Rulers of Hell Itself™’s questionable fashion sense. I would still die for these boys, terrible taste in shoes or not.

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), my roommate and an art major with storyboarding and character design experience

Justin ( @justinlester0629 ), my go-to fashion expert for at least a decade and very possibly a future male model

Noodle (Me), untrained eye and resident fashion decade disregarder

With the exception of a few choice quotes, our thoughts and conclusions are all mixed in with each other. Quotes are mildly paraphrased.

Lucifer:

The colors are good; the blacks and grays are all in the blue-gray family, and there’s a pop of color with the gold belt and red vest.

But he paired a black suit with brown shoes???? SIN

“You should always match your belt with your shoes and those shoes are not gold.” —Justin

Justin on the coat: “I love it, the pattern of the inner lining is throwing me off but it’s not bad, and the fur is perfect because it’s associated with power.”

Me on the coat: “I don’t know about you but I bet that coat looks dumb as shit if you put your sleeves through it.”

WITHOUT the coat though his cuffs scream “I am dealing for blackjack and rolling craps.” Lucifer looks like he could walk into and out of a casino whenever he pleases and everyone would assume he works there.

“Dress shirts don’t work like that. He got a size too big.” —Jo

The belt isn’t doing anything functionally, but it’s very important because it balances things out from being too top-heavy.

Out of the belt, shirt cuffs, and coat cuffs, two of them should have matched.

We’re nitpicking because in general it’s a good design. Lucifer has no taste in shoes but that aside is capable of dressing himself.

Mammon:

“That’s western Danny Phantom if I’ve ever seen it.” —Justin

Very nice coat 10/10 would wear.

The colors are odd, he mixes black and brown too, but the other colors mixed in makes it work in a cute way.

“The only things that clash are the shirt and jeans, he could replace the gray shirt with either a black one or a lighter one to match the boots.” —Justin

He’s got a cat toy on his belt. I admire his preparedness for feline encounters.

The cat toy also balances out his rings nicely, since the toy is on his left hip and the rings are on his right hand.

The yellows in the shades, belt, and cat toy are placed very nicely and are the best part of the outfit.

Honestly except for the shirt color and the fact that fur-lined boots are out of style we don’t have much bad to say about his design. Mammon’s casual outfit lives up to his model career.

Leviathan:

“Ugh, god.” —Justin

The headphones don’t match with anything, and ever color he’s wearing is so bright they REALLY don’t match.

Headphones aside he chose ok colors to supersaturate, but also like, supersaturation is very very loud.

It kind of looks like he bought two different tracksuits and forgot they were two different outfits.

The pants don’t match themselves.

“He color coordinated his pant cuffs and his shirt and thinks it makes it ok.” —Jo

The jacket itself is nice, the pins are really good and I appreciate that they’re opposite the stripes in his shirt.

Justin hates the gray stripe though because it looks like either part of the jacket or a girl scout sash.

“That shirt should not be collared.” —Jo

“The shoes look like what Kanye West would design but if they were sold on Wish.” —Justin

It’s kind of just… he took the RGB color wheel and went with it. It’s just loud. If he just changed some colors he’d be fine. Leviathan please I have hope for you.

Satan:

“He looks like a gay prep school person.” —Justin

Satan wore 100 shades of green and said “yes this is peak fashion.” And you know what, it objectively sucks but I’m kind of living for it?

Rip off jeans that can’t actually be ripped off because of the VERY stylish belt? Iconic.

Green deep v-neck sweater over a gradient t-shirt and a jacket with the sleeves too short, this man only shops at Goodwill.

The one-shoulder jacket look gives the outfit some personality and I’m really glad he isn’t wearing it properly because looking at it alone I wouldn’t be caught dead in that jacket.

“While good for the design, it’s a mix between business and athletic and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” —Jo

(Jo also said some jackets are designed with sleeves like that but with the color choices it’s just… not good. Justin pointed out that the sweater and jacket do match though.)

The chocolate loafer-style shoes take away from the rest of the outfit.

“Any other shade of green besides Crayola green would have been better for his nails.” —Justin

Listen it’s so bad it’s good, Satan’s fashion sense is “blue-green.” We basically ripped into it the whole time but I’m pretty sure it was the universal favorite.

Asmodeus:

“Just from the back he looks like a cool dude and then the front of him screams douche.” —Jo

Asmo’s outfit is actually ok, but he has one fatal flaw: If he takes off his jacket it’s way too plain, but with the jacket it’s kind of too much.

It’s also kind of confusing, because it looks both casual and formal from different angles. “I’m not sure I like the cut in the front with the t-shirt showing underneath.” —Justin

The shirt is nice but a color that contrasted his skin more would have been nice.

The pants are killer, and the white stitching matches the jacket really well.

The gold accents on the jacket are also good and would match the belt really nicely if the belt wasn’t some ugly mustard color.

This boy is wearing mustard belt and ketchup pants.

Inoffensive shoes which is really the best I can ask for with these boys.

“The scarf. I like it, but I’m not sure how I feel about it because there’s just so much going on with both it and the jacket.” —Justin

“That’s not a scarf, it’s too long. It’s like. A really long strip of cloth.” —Jo

Anyway all in all there’s a little much going on in the front but it’s one of the better looks, good job Asmo.

Beelzebub:

Justin looked at the picture and immediately put his phone down.

“First impression is he looks like Naruto if he got his head lodged in Doritos.” —Justin

“He looks like he’s the carpet of the arcade portion of a skating rink.” —Jo

“He shouldn’t be wearing orange tones.” —Justin

Legitimately we were at a loss for words for a considerable time. We just kept staring at it.

To start he’s got a lot going on but it feels like he looked in the mirror before leaving his room. Not saying he did the best job but at least he looked at himself.

The jacket alone is great, but why is it fur-lined? It throws off the urban design.

But finally some good fucking shirt. We have mixed opinions on the triangles (I like them, Justin doesn’t but appreciates that the pattern continues on the back) but all like the cut.

Living for the necklace-bracelet combo.

Jo says the biggest problem is that there’s color-matching but in weird places and not enough of it.

Jo hates the pink belt and Justin hates the green suspenders; we concluded that one of them should have been excluded.

His choice in sneakers is not as bad as Levi’s but still not very good. The laces shouldn’t be green.

This sounds like a lot of complaining but if he cleaned up the belts and ditched the fur it’d be a fine look.

Belphegor:

“Oh shit oh god.” —Justin

“The top half is for sleeping and the bottom half is for riding.” —Jo

Absolutely disgusting, mustard yellow pants tucked into brown lace-up combat boots? Disgusting.

The shoes alone are nice but the mustard pants don’t work at all. There’s no cutoff between blue and mustard.

Also he has really broad shoulders, just noticed that looking at this. That has nothing to do with this but it does affect how his cardigan sits on him.

I personally would wear that cardigan, a hooded cardigan? Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Justin pointed out that the button lining is weird, and the inside is a weird contrast with the pocket. He’s right, but I think it’s an endearing mess.

Why do I look at him and feel like he needs to do laundry? I think it’s the t-shirt. It would have been better as a collared shirt, taking the hood off the cardigan in return.

You can’t convince me the avatar of sloth laces those boots every day, he sleeps with his shoes on and that’s a worse sin than sloth.

“The pillow’s not part of the outfit? Oh thank god.” —Justin

Jo said we were being too mean and that it’s not the worst outfit out there, and from the waist up they’re right.

But damn Belphegor the condiment war called and they want the bottom half of their uniform back.

#obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me outfit analysis #image

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