#btw i drew this last night and it was supposed to be just a warm up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zoeyslament · 4 months

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Warm Me Up - Nischa OneShot

The power is out in Uranium City. Mischa goes to spend the night with Noel, so he’s not cold in his drafty basement. Fluff ensues.

No tws! Enjoy!

The power in Uranium City rarely ever went out. Was it because the town was fairly devoid of trees so nothing was there to hit the power lines? Or maybe because a power outage would be too interesting and whatever deity was out there would not wish that on the town where nothing ever happened? As far as Noel Gruber knew or cared, the latter was more likely.

So whenever it did happen, which was barely once, maybe twice a year, Noel had a plan.

Step 1: light a few candles

Step 2: cuddle up in bed

Step 3: pull out a copy of a classic novel and read the night away

Foolproof. Even a power outage could become a special occasion for him. So on a Saturday night in mid January, he was ready as soon as the lights started to flicker.

As the scent of lavender and lemongrass rose in the room, Noel glanced outside the window. Snowflakes the size of quarters were drifting down from the heavens in heaps and heaps, coating the ground in a blanket of frosty white. The window was glazed with ice, though Noel was warm and toasty in his pile of blankets and pillows.

He cracked open an ancient copy of Jane Eyre, kicked his feet up, and breathed in the sweet scents of flowers and citrus. Nothing could possibly have ruined this excellent night.

Something ruined his excellent night.

Noel was only three chapters into his fifth re-read of Jane Eyre when he felt a vibrating sensation in one of his pockets. A text message.

Mischa: Noel can I come over

Noel quickly texted back. For as little as he seemed to care about life, as nihilistic and sometimes pessimistic as he could be, he drew the line at Mischa.

Noel and Mischa had grown close over the last few months. It wasn’t like Noel liked him or anything, just loved the way Mischa’s warm brown eyes melted him, the feeling of Mischa’s strong arms snaking around his body for a hug, the way his hair sometimes swung in his eyes, the way his head bobbed whenever he listened to music, the stupid lopsided smile on his face when he showed Noel a new rap, how his voice sounded when he was concerned…

Okay, maybe Noel liked him…a little bit.

Noel: Yes, use the back door tho, front walkway is real icy

Mischa: k

Noel glanced around the room. What could have been so urgent that Mischa needed to come over?

Noel: everything ok?

Mischa: ig

Noel: liar

Mischa: im just cold

Mischa: heater not working

Mischa: u have power?

Noel: no, but i have warm blankets and candles

Mischa: ofc u do

Noel: whats that supposed to mean lol?

Mischa: gay ass

Noel: no shit

Ah, there it was. A sinking reminder that Mischa was not, in fact, into guys. “Gay ass.” Almost an insult. Maybe worse?

Mischa: ok almost there. Its cold out here.

Noel: Are u not wearing a coat?

Mischa: I don’t have one

Noel: oh shit

Noel: doors unlocked for u, im in my room btw

Mischa: thx

Noel could hear the door swinging open. The house was old and also extremely small, meaning sounds on one end could be easily heard on the other. Footsteps pounded on the squeaky floorboards, a yawn, the rustle of clothing on skin.

The bedroom door opened, and Mischa stepped into the dim candlelight. He was soaked head to toe, dressed in a pair of pajama pants with dogs on them and a t-shirt.

Noel raised an eyebrow, concerned. “That doesn’t look very comfortable.”

Mischa flicked a few remaining bits of snow from his pant leg. “It is not, but it was all that was clean.”

“Why are you all wet?” Noel stood up, facing Mischa. “You look like you almost drowned!”

“Fell on your icy as fuck driveway and landed in a snow bank.” He grumbled. “My ass is gonna be sore for days.”

“Careful what you say.” He chuckled.

He reached out, hand brushing down Mischa’s arm. “I have some warmer

pajamas you can wear if you want.” He gestured toward his closet. “Dryer too.”

Mischa smiled his stupid lopsided smile again, but waved him off. “I would rather just sleep in my boxers if that’s not an issue.”

“It’s freezing cold, and you’re taking layers off?” Noel laughed.

“Well, yeah. It is wet. And you said you have blankets, yes?”

“Yeah, on my bed. You can sleep there I guess, I’ll go sleep on the couch or something.”

Mischa cocked his head to one side. “It is freezing cold, and you are going to sleep without blanket on the sofa?”

“...Touche. I’ll dig the air mattress out.” He suggested. “I’m pretty sure it’s in the basement.”

“No need.” Mischa insisted. “I will sleep on floor. Just toss me down an extra pillow maybe?”

Noel sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Nobody’s sleeping on the floor. Look, Mischa, I know it might be awkward, but you can share my bed if you want. It’s probably warmer than the couch, and it’s big enough that you won’t even have to touch me if you so wish.”

It suddenly occurred to Noel that he’d been staring at the floor for the past few moments of their conversation. He finally looked up at Mischa to see a blush spread across the taller boy’s face. He was also shaking from the cold. Noel himself was shivering a bit–winter in Uranium City was no laughing matter, especially with no heating.

“Get out of those wet clothes and get in bed.” He demanded. “I won’t move my big gay ass any closer than it needs to be.” He joked. Mischa just blushed harder.

“Thank you, Noel. This is much better than drafty old basement already.” He took off his shirt, revealing light curls of chest hair. Then he removed his pajama bottoms, and Noel kindly averted his eyes until Mischa was safely covered in blankets.

“Comfy?” Noel slipped into bed beside Mischa, careful that no part of his body touched the Ukrainian. “You look a lot better now.”

“I am. Thank you, Poet. For everything.”

Woah, woah…Poet? What was that all about? Noel’s mind raced a million miles a minute, his face flushing redder than a cherry. He shifted side to side, debating moving closer to Mischa.

A draft from the leaky ceiling solved this dilemma for him. The cold air came barreling at him like a racehorse, sending a shiver down Noel’s spine. Mischa tenderly wrapped an arm around him.

“Stay close. We must remain warm, right?” Mischa laughed slightly. Noel smiled up at him. “That’s right. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Poet, I have dreamed of this moment for months. You are clueless, aren’t you?”

Noel was confused. “What?”

“I have been flirting with you for weeks! This whole sleepover thing was just one great big ploy to sleep in bed with you!” Mischa explained, sounding exasperated. “You are clueless as a bag of rocks.”

Noel’s face went red once again. “You…like me? Like actually?”

Mischa nodded. “You are my man of words, Noel Gruber! I like you a hell of a lot!”

The boys’ eyes met in the dim light that emanated from Noel’s candles. Mischa’s were a warm, chocolatey brown, and Noel’s were flecked with gold and grey. “You really are very beautiful, Poet.” Mischa’s voice was a husky whisper. “I hope you know that.” He cupped Noel’s face, and Noel nuzzled into his calloused hands. “You’re a lot gentler right now than you are at school.” He noted, and Mischa snorted.

“Can’t be gentle at school,” he explained, “Someone needs to act up. Keeps Ocean on her toes. I like bothering Ocean.” His eyes glimmered with his usual air of mischief, which warmed Noel’s heart.

“Mischa,” Noel began warily, “Do you mind if I…if I kiss you? You know, consent and all that.”

“Noel, Poet, you beautiful, perfect boy…You never need to ask.”

So, Noel hesitated for a moment, before sticking his head forward and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Mischa smirked. “You missed.”

He barely gave Noel a split second to realize what he meant before locking lips with him, sliding Noel’s body toward himself. As their bodies and faces collided, the males became enveloped in each other’s embraces. Mischa’s lips parted slightly, and Noel, almost instinctively, slid his tongue in, exploring Mischa’s mouth. It tasted almost like cheap vodka, a flavour Noel was not accustomed to, though he guessed, in his highly pleasured state, that he would be soon.

Mischa broke the kiss, looking into Noel’s eyes again. This lasted for mere seconds before Noel has buried his face into Mischa’s chest, eyelashes fluttering down over those hazel-brown orbs, drifting off into slumber.

“Hey, Poet?” he murmured, one more time.

Noel shifted slightly. “Mhm?”

“Thank you for warming me up.”

#rtc musical #rtc #ride the cyclone #mischa bachinski #noel gruber #nischa #oneshots #my writing

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perexcri · 1 year

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That fic was !!! Wordsmith Perexcri strikes again because you always seem to know how to weave them!!!

(This is Fannon btw)

The imagery of Never Have I Ever on the eve of the Apocalypse—it’s like. I can’t even explain why I think it’s so cool—it’s sort of like almost an anachronism? but instead of something modern in a historical setting, it’s something so so normal when nothing in the world is normal. Idk I just woke up and I have a cold so idk if that made any sense, just know that I enjoy it.

Also, ‘All he knows is, each night, when Will rolls over to the edge of the bed they share and Mike’s eyes bore in to his bedroom wall, they always snag against a bloody, crimson heart on a shield, and he thinks he’d been stupid to ever believe anybody else could know him like Will does.’ BEAUTIFUL SO SO MUCH I am going to have this tattooed on the inside of my eyelids so I can look at it forever.

I hope you are doing very well!

(,,,I told my friends I would try to do this off anon for Once, bc I want to be your friend but,,,,I’m a coward☺️)

Thank you for being such a lovely writer!

!! hello fannon!! i hope you recover from your cold soon!! i am sending you a cup of warm soup to ward the illness away~

(this one got long so i'm gonna put the rest under the cut!!)

i'm so glad you liked it!! honestly i think this fic has become my fav i've written this year, so it brings me joy to see others liking it as well :D

what you're saying makes total sense!! i love when the mundane is contrasted with the horrific, like two teenagers playing never have i ever when they both think they're gonna die the next day. i always find little human moments like that impact me more than, like, an extended action sequence

i didn't explicitly use it as inspiration for this fic, but i do think i drew a little from buffy the vampire slayer (like with most apocalypse byler stuff i've written lol) for that contrast!! that show does such a good job of contrasting the mundane and quiet with the loud and horrific. i did think a little about the very last episode of buffy on the night before the big final battle, and there's this very quiet shot of buffy and spike sharing a bed in her basement,,,that's kinda the vibe i was going for, and i felt happy with how it came out in the actual story :D

AHHHH i love when people point out lines they like!! that's one of my favorites from this one - i remember writing it last night and kinda staring at my screen for a second like "oh. okay. don't know where that came from but i guess we'll roll with it" lol

FANNONNNNNN please please please don't feel like you have to keep using anon!! i would love to be your friend!! honestly a big reason why i post fics or do stuff on tumblr is because i want to talk with other people who are suffering from the same brainrot as me!! i've literally had full-blown conversations in the comments on some of my fics because i've really enjoyed getting to talk to other people (even though my social anxiety makes it very hard sometimes to talk but i'm being so brave about it). and honestly, i think fandom stuff is supposed to feel more like a communal thing?? idk i love responding to comments or getting asks or getting your messages anytime i post something because it makes it feel like i'm interacting with other people who like similar things as me, rather than me just like,,,mindlessly pushing stuff out into the void and never hearing anything back, or something like that. idk if that makes sense, but tl;dr: i would love to be your friend!! (but if you are too anxious about it i totally understand because, again, re: social anxiety)

thank you once again for stopping by fannon!! your words always mean a lot to me, and i hope you get to feeling better soon!! :] 💜💜💜

#ask #fannon

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

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tumblr has been eating all my asks recently and i think it ate my request so let's try this again. can you do 53, 69, and 83 for either ransom or ari (you can choose!!) love your writing btw <3

53) “Is that a tattoo?”

69) “Come here, baby, let Mommy/Daddy take care of you.”

83) “Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?”

Secretly tattooed daddy!Ari you say? I’m about to ruin myself but ok.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex), big old tattoo kink, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

You tapped your pen irritably on the document in front of you as you tried to concentrate on your work.

But you couldn’t because Ari was doing fucking pushups across the room from you.

He’d been doing them for the past five minutes, and you were getting wetter by the second, your skirt starting to stick to your thighs as you squirmed uncomfortably. You hated how much he turned you on, especially when the two of you were supposed to be going over field reports.

“Levinson! C’mon man, we only have like three more of these to get through.” You whined. “I wanna go home!”

That sly smirk he gave you as he stood up was not helping and you crossed your legs to hopefully relieve some of the tension.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He said in that low growl that made your ovaries flip. “Needed to break up the monotony somehow.”

“Sure.” You fought the urge to bang your forehead against the desk as you watched him run his hand over his neck. Your eyes were trained on the curve of his shoulders when you caught a glimpse of black lettering over his collarbone and felt yourself clench. “Is that a tattoo?”

“Hmm? Yeah, it’s an Eckhart Tolle quote. You ok there?”

You were decidedly not ok, biting your lips and almost ripping the report you were reading in half. The last thing you needed was for Ari fucking Levinson to figure out that you had a massive tattoo kink. But your brain was starting to go offline as you felt a low throbbing between your thighs.

“Is... is that the only one you have?” You practically moaned, cursing yourself in your mind for giving into your libido.

“No.” Damn that smirk, what a fucking tease. “You wanna see the rest of them?”

You just nodded vigorously as you started grinding yourself into your seat. His fingers moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as you gazed at him, groaning when he slid it down his shoulders.

There were several tattoos over his torso and upper arms, and when he turned around you saw a thin line of letters tracing over his spine. Everything below your waist was warm and pulsing as you looked at him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“What about you gorgeous?” He asked, a wicked glint in his eye as he grinned at you. “You got any ink?”

“Yeah.” You hated how squeaky your voice was when he stepped closer to you, you breath coming in shallow pants as you gazed up at him from your seat.

“Well?” He cocked his eyebrow and gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up even further.

“Huh? Right!” You tried not to giggle hysterically as you worked to unbutton your blouse.

Everywhere his eyes raked over your skin left a trail of fire, your skin heating under his gaze as he watched you undress. He whistled between his teeth when you tossed your blouse aside and stood up, his hand reaching out to turn you so he could examine the intricate tree that ran over your ribs and the right side of your back, moving into flowering vines as it trailed down your arm.

“This is extremely impressive, sweetheart.” Ari purred, his fingers tracing over the raised lines of ink on your shoulder. “Who would’ve thought you were hiding all this under those uptight little outfits.”

“Yeah, looks like we’re both full of surprises.” You bit your lip as you turned to him, bringing your own hands up to run over his tattoos.

His fingers trailed down your torso and over your hip before drawing up the hem of your skirt as he stepped closer to you. A moan escaped your chest as he ran his fingers over the inside of your thigh before brushing against the dampened silk of your panties.

“Shit, honey, you are soaked.” He growled, pressing his fingers to your sodden core as you gasped wantonly. “Come here, baby, let Daddy take care of you.”

“Oh, you want me to call you daddy?” Your voice was husky with desire as you ground against his fingers. “Not gonna fucking happen.”

A grin split your face when he huffed as you shoved him back into the chair, stepping forward until your thighs were spread over his lap. He groaned when you dipped your fingers down to undo his fly, drawing out his extremely impressive cock. Your entire mouth filled with saliva when you got a good look at it, thick and veiny and a perfect pink tip you would’ve sucked on if your pussy wasn’t aching with need.

“Shit, that looks uncomfortable.” You teased as you swiped your thumb over his slit and he tried to buck into you.

“Oh, you’re fucking dangerous.” He hissed as you sank down just enough for his tip to tease against your slick coated folds.

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?” You purred, sliding his tip inside you then stopping again. “Better ask me real nice.”

The sound he made when you sank down the rest of the way made your stomach flip. You didn’t move though, aside from bending forward to run your lips over the ink on his collarbone.

“Shit, god, please baby!” He cried when you clenched around him, your eyelashes skimming over his skin as you sucked a bruise against his chest.

“Mmm, good boy.”

You rose up slowly before dropping down into his lap again as he let out an obscene groan. The ache in your core finally started to ebb as you rode him, a warm coil replacing it. His cock was hitting every spot you needed it to, dragging through your warm channel until your eyes were rolling back in your skull.

He moved his hands to grip your hips, his fingertips digging bruises into your flesh as he took over your rhythm. The tip of his cock punched you in the cervix with a particularly vicious thrust and you screamed as you vision whited out and you came violently. Your body bowed backwards as you fluttered around him, catching yourself on his knees at the last second before you fell off him.

“Fuck, honey there’s still other people here!” He muttered giddily as he drew you back into lap.

“Sorry, you’re just so fucking big.” You whined, sagging forward against his chest as he fucked you through it.

He grinned into your hair as he held you tightly, his hips still pistoning into you as you moaned against his chest. The coil in your abdomen started tightening again as he twitched inside you.

“You feel so fucking good.” He growled, tucking his face into the hollow behind your ear as he nipped at your jaw. “God, I’m gonna come, gimme one more?”

The moan you let out was obscene as you clamped down on him, your fingers digging into his arms. Your torso rolled on a wave of pleasure and you pressed your chest to his before collapsing. Three more thrusts and he was gone, his cock swelling inside you until he was flooding you with his spend. He fucked it into you with staggering jabs, holding you tightly to his chest once he was finished.

“So, reports?” You said, pulling the rolling chair back towards the desk as he panted underneath you. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

——————————————————————————

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#natalie answers #anon answered #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #tattoo kink

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tennessoui · 3 years

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Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.”

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

#asks #prompt fill #lets be real these havent been ficlets for months let alone snippets #these are just. fics lmao #anyway i couldnt choose who to hurt/comfort with this prompt so ii actually went with both haha #very on brand #anakin's pov would of course contain the famous 'oh. OH.' of realization #obikin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #i have so many amazing asks to respond to and im going to do it tonight #i just wanted to post this and then spend like a solid eight hours on my paintings because they have a really real and fast approaching #deadline #cw: cheating #married with a twist au

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hiccstrxd · 3 years

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Kisses from the moon

Hello! I wanted to write shameless fluff with lots of kisses and this is exactly what it is. I’d like to believe that for a first timer in the kissing department, I did it okay lmao

It's rated t btw. You can find it in ao3 as well. Enjoy!

Summary: She didn’t know how it happened, the only thing she recalls is that they had meant to depart with one chaste kiss on the lips and somehow it had quickly escalated to unknown territory, though for sure not quite an unpleasant one.

It hasn’t been that long since the battle of the Storm Spire and relationships among the neighboring kingdoms couldn’t be any more restrained — the shifting alliances have been slightly worrisome but the newly pledge between the Dragon Queen and the young King of Katolis compensate all the arising uncertainties, if just a little.

Rayla doesn’t know that much about politics but she supposes that last bit gave enough solace to the kingdom. A bright occurrence amidst the cataclysmic disputes and deadly wars.

And since this was now her home away from home, she was very well informed — rather unwillingly — in its state of affairs.

Both Callum and Ezran (and Bait too, apparently) had firmly made her know that if she was one hundred percent sure and at ease with the idea overall, she was more than welcome to stay in Katolis, no matter if it was merely a temporary arrangement. It took quite a lot of arguments and counterarguments from both parties and even further persuasion from the two brothers (and frog) for her to concede to the proposition with an underlying hesitation.

She was fairly certain that her residency in the kingdom — and in the castle no less — will not be as gladly received. She’ll have to withstand many scornful looks and insensitive judgments left and right, her presence won’t do any good there. Plus, she would feel so out of place and a little bit too conscience-stricken for her liking. But then again she didn’t have anywhere else to go, nowhere to call home.

It was all very confusing and frustrating, rightfully so.

Later that night, with the moonlight casting shadows over the two lovers that were basking in the company of one another and with no impending death hanging in the air, a five-fingered hand was tenderly holding her four-fingered one, a warm smile on each of their faces. Lazy strokes were traced on her wrist, going up to her palm and finally detouring to each of her fingers, making careless doodles with the tip of his forefinger. She let out a sigh of contempt.

A murmured ‘I love you’ was softly said to the wind followed by an imaginary heart being drawn on her palm.

She looked over at him. His eyes had softened a great deal and he now sported the gentlest of grins, he redrew the heart for emphasis. Rayla intertwined their fingers together and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze.

She’ll never get tired of hearing it.

“I love you, too.”

And maybe that was the little push that she needed to make up her mind.

That’s how she got here. In Katolis, she meant. Definitely not with her back pressed slightly against the wall and a pair of gentle hands that held onto her with urgency, if just a little shyly.

She didn’t know how it happened, the only thing she recalls is that they had meant to depart with one chaste kiss on the lips and somehow it had quickly escalated to unknown territory, though for sure not quite an unpleasant one.

They were both expected somewhere else, the kiss was just a farewell gesture, something to get them through the day until they could be close with each other again — which was most likely to be late at night or early morning for how tight their schedule was today.

Rayla needs to break it off. They need to get going. She doesn’t.

She felt his hands that were once placed safely on her waist, slowly trail down to rest on her hips with a lose grip. Hers started their journey upwards, tracing his neck with feather-light touches to finally cup each side of his jaw. Their lips moved against one another at a deliberately slow pace, their noses brushing every so often with each gentle pull.

They have kissed before, of course, but nothing like this.

A loving peck on the lips, a quick kiss on the forehead, even a small brush of lips against each knuckle. They had definitely had some kisses that had lasted more than they should have but even those seemed to be cut short. No, this is new.

The gap between them came to be nonexistent, their breaths mingling together in their shared space. She felt warmth blossom in her chest as he pulled her even closer, his thumb slowly drawing small circles on her hip and when she felt him smile against her lips she couldn’t help but let a small smile out too.

Kissing him has always felt quite exhilarating, a rush of feeling that made her heart soar and her mind numb. A tingling sensation that extended from the tip of her fingers up to her very lips, a warmth that consumed her and spread like a wildfire within. Rayla has never kissed anyone before — she hadn’t felt the need to, having little interest in that sort of matter before— but she had seen Runaan and Ethari display little shows of affections every so often, and as a kid, her inherent curiosity had led her to wonder how loving someone felt like.

Ethari had said that it was like holding your whole heart in between your hands, so delicate and precious that the rest of the world blurs and fades away having no point of comparison with its beauty. Runaan, ever the pragmatic, said that it was a matter of sentiment — you feel everything more intensely.

She reckons that both are quite true, to some extent. Though, she might add her own contribution to the mix: it felt like a typhoon of emotions all at once; you feel weak yet strong, confused yet never more certain in your life, vulnerable yet empowered. It’s warm-hearted, a tender gesture. But then again, it’s something that she cannot fully put into words because the concept is so abstract and the action is so blissful that no notion will ever do justice to what she feels.

Soft kisses soon became frenzied presses of lips and their hands seemed to have a mind of their own, moving on their own accord and trying to frantically touch every patch of skin, clinging to the fabric of clothes in an attempt to be closer. His breath faintly tickled the skin beneath her nose, their heartbeats rhythmically pounding against their chests, and the almost inaudible sighs of delight, whenever their lips brushed against each other, was all she could hear in the secluded corner of the castle. Her senses were overflowed with his presence.

She couldn’t help the soft gasp she let out when he gently bit her bottom lip and pulled it in between his own. It was definitely something they haven’t done before and the action's intimacy promptly took her off guard.

And then he was frantically pulling away, eyes wide with horror and with eyebrows that seemed to reach his hairline, his lips the tiniest bit swollen from their whole encounter. His hands were still on her hips but if he was desperately trying to bring her forward before, he was now doing his best to hold her at arm’s length.

He was quite a sight and she would find it in herself to poke fun at his ridiculous countenance if she didn’t think he was on the verge of a mental collapse.

“I-I’m so sorry, that was not— and I just— I got carried away... Not that that excuses it! I — oh Gods,” Callum stumbled over his words, hand clasped over his eyes, and shifting uneasily on both feet. Rayla had trouble deciphering the inarticulate unfinished sentences that were being stuttered past his mouth but his body language could clue her in.

She raised a single eyebrow whilst fighting an amusing smile from breaking out.

With tentative fingers, she reached forward to lace their fingers together with the hand that was covering his face, his momentary flinch didn’t go unnoticed as she did so.

“Hey,” she softly said with a small smile on her face because leave it to him to straight-up freak out during one of the most intoxicating kisses they have shared so far in their relatively new courtship. She gently rubbed her thumb on the side of his hand as a silent way to reassure him that it was all good. He visibly relaxed a tiny bit, though still showing a little apprehension for his actions done in the spur of the moment. “I liked it.” She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes and she wanted to smack herself for the uncharacteristic demeanor.

She felt a coy smirk tug at the corners of her mouth, “I really liked it.” Rayla relished the way his face went from rueful to downright embarrassed, a deep flush spreading all over his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. She couldn’t stop the heartening laugh this time.

“O-oh?” She heard him mumble. He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that was not holding hers, and she playfully rolled her eyes at her dorky human prince’s antics.

“In fact, I wouldn’t mind tryin’ it out again.” She said while mindlessly arranging the scarf on his neck that has become rumpled by her own doing. She looked at him solemnly, this being a little unfamiliar to both of them and the uncertainty of how to approach was slowly killing her. With a clear of his throat and his forest green eyes thoroughly searching hers to silently confirm what she had put into words, he shifted forward.

“Well, in that case,” He brought one hand to pull her closer while he raised the other one to caress her cheek lovingly. His eyes stared earnestly at her as if he could find all the wonders in the world by solely looking at her. It was wistful thinking, but she’d rather not dwell into that right now. Not when the only thing that matters was the blitheness from her heart and the prince that was the cause of it all.

He drew her toward him as the space between them once again diminished and with half-closed eyes, slightly pursed lips, and with the erratic thumps of the heart filling the air, they slowly leaned in again.

He nudged his nose against hers and placed a small kiss in the corner of her lips. Callum smiled, he went to do the same on the other side but she’d have none of it. She looped her forearms loosely at the back of his neck and lunged forward — she took delight in the muffled hum of surprise.

Their lips glided lazily but surely against each other, and this time — with the self-consciousness fading away and the overwhelming feelings of adoration rising in its place — the kiss quickly took a passionate turn. Fervent lips searched hers and she returned the gesture in equal measure.

When they came to this corner almost hidden from any prying eyes to share a light kiss, one which swiftly became so much more, Rayla had been concerned they would get caught. They never seemed to get any privacy in the heavily guarded walls of the castle and sneaking around resulted in their last resort, something that both thrilled her and troubled her; there was always a crown guard just around the corner, a handmaid that not so subtly eyed them from afar, or worse, the High Cleric that without fail appeared around inopportune instances.

The number of times she had wished the earth to open up and swallow her whole were unimaginable.

But now, as she now pulled his bottom lip in between her own, that thought was dismayed and stored in the back of her mind because kissing Callum made all of those seem as insignificant worries as every kiss felt like the very first one — she was sure there wasn’t a greater feeling than being in his arms. She could stay here forever.

That was until a nervous cough could be heard behind them, a few paces away from the darkened corner. They jumped apart.

“Prince Callum,” Corvus gave a slight bow, eyes not quite looking directly at the couple, “your presence is required in the throne room.” He cleared his throat, posture uptight as always but shifting from one leg to another rather uneasily.

Oh, sweet primals.

Rayla could already feel the burning sensation on her face and ears and quickly disentangled herself from his embrace in an attempt to put some proper distance between them. He was not expecting her briskly move and promptly stumbled over his own two feet, arms flailing to catch his balance before he fell somewhat unceremoniously on the ground below.

“Corvus, hi! Yeah, I was just on my way. I was just telling Rayla about the... uh,” He trailed off, unsure of what to say that would be credible enough to somehow cover up their real deed. Rayla was sure she was just about to die from embarrassment.

Corvus placed both his arms behind himself and with a deadpan expression affirmed, “I assure you, your highness, I do not need an explanation. It is all good. Nevertheless, let’s not keep the High Council and the King waiting, shall we?” Rayla could have guaranteed the corners of his mouth lifted in the slightest — almost imperceptible — in what she could only assume was amusement. “And Rayla, Soren is waiting in the courtyard for your daily training session.”

With that last bit, she nodded in acknowledgment and went straight to where she was initially supposed to be nearly fifteen minutes ago. And she almost gave Soren the triumph of his life since the only thing on her mind was how much she had enjoyed their little rendezvous and the excitement of its reprise was as annoying as it was enthralling.

#rayllum #my writing #rayllum fanfic #callum #rayla #the dragon prince #tdp #tdp callum #tdp rayla #tdp rayllum #fluff #things get a little carried away but nothing serious #I wanted to write something happy pre ttm #i'm sorry for any grammar mistakes #a hiccstrid fic is in the works too

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cinnonym · 3 years

Text

christmas magic's brought this tale (to a very happy ending)

Written for Day 10 - Game Night / Movie Night of 12 Days of Christmas @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

r/relationship_advice – posted by u/anonymous1000 – 13 hours ago

My (25f) crush and best friend (27f) chose a lesbian classic for movie night, how do I react?

Disclaimer ahead: I haven’t used reddit before and am thus not very fluent in etiquette and formatting, but please bear with me because I am seriously overwhelmed by the current situation and would appreciate all forms of help. I’m also typing this in a hurry, because I’m supposed to be in the bathroom, so please excuse typos or inaccuracies. I’ll try my best. But now, without further ado, here goes:

I (25f) have been crushing on my best friend (27f) pretty much since the day we met. For context, that was two years ago, and while we started out on a business relationship, it evolved into a close friendship almost right away. This is mostly due to her, I must admit. She’s the most open-minded person I know and simply couldn’t be “scared away” by my bad reputation (which I inherited). Needless to say, I’m very grateful for her. She’s not only my best, but has also been my only friend for quite a while, before she introduced me to her inner circle. I unironically owe her my happiness (and my life, several times over, but that’s unrelated to this story).

I’d fallen in love before I realised what was happening. Usually, trust and affection come slowly to me, but her I loved almost right away. That’s simply who she is, a person one cannot help loving. Also, she’s very attractive, side note. I used to flirt with her sometimes, in the beginning, before I became aware of the depth of my feelings (this is awkward to talk about, btw, thank goodness for anonymity online), and back then, it seemed like she wasn’t all unresponsive to my advances. Then again, she isn’t very good at saying no to anyone, because of who she is as a person, so maybe she was only being polite? I’m not sure.

Anyway, she had a boyfriend then, and I had to come to terms with my feelings, so I sort of drew back a little. I’d been with women before, so that was never an issue, but I’m uncertain whether she has ever considered women. Her sister is gay, and she is very supportive of her, but we’ve never talked about how she feels. As far as I know, she’s only ever been with men though. Either way, I’m not in the business of making moves on taken people, so I mostly focused on fostering our friendship.

The thing is, as long as I can be close with her, I am sort of okay with being “just friends”. I mean, isn’t close friendship like a romantic relationship, just minus the romance? And minus the physical advantages (although she is a very cuddly person, so that’s nice). And, like, of course, I’d like to mean more to her. Of course I’d like to take care of her every day when she comes home, cook her dinner, listen to her worries, massage her neck, kiss her goodnight. Of course I’d like to be The One to her, just like she is The One to me. But considering that she’s probably straight and not interested in me in that way, I’m mostly okay with just being her best friend.

Or, I was mostly okay with it. But recently she’s… been acting differently towards me. She’s giving me these long glances when she thinks I don’t notice (I do). She’s going out of her way to make sure I’m fine and don’t work too much (it’s a tendency I have, especially pre-Christmas). She’s told me she’s been working on my Christmas gift almost all month (and I can’t for the hell of it guess what it could be). She’s even invited me for Christmas with her family (since I don’t celebrate with mine).

And now today, she chose the film Carol for movie night (movie night is a weekly thing we do, I should have mentioned that earlier, maybe), which is, as you might know, about a lesbian relationship. And I don’t know what to do.

She claims to have chosen the film because it was on a list of Christmas films (and I suppose it does have christmassy vibes), and because it “sounded fitting”. Sounded fitting?? What is that even supposed to mean? She doesn’t know I’m gay, so it can’t be that, unless she somehow figured out. Is she gay and this is her way of telling me? And if so, how do I react? Is this her letting me know she’s interested in me, or am I reading too much into this? Did she even realise this was a lesbian film??

Anyway, she’s calling from the living room, so I need to go. I’ll try to take another bathroom break halfway into the movie, and I’d appreciate it A Lot if I had some reactions in by then, because I’m panicking a little here. Thank you all!

Tl;dr: my supposedly straight friend chose a lesbian film for movie night, and I don’t understand her intentions behind that.

(P.S. She and her boyfriend have broken up months ago. She’s currently single.)

***

r/relationship_advice – posted by u/anonymous1000 – 11 hours ago

UPDATE to this post

First of all, thank you all so much for your quick replies, they’re really helpful. As you might have guessed, I managed to negotiate another bathroom break mid-film (though my friend is currently sulking on the couch, she didn’t want to let me go? :) ?) and am, once again, typing as fast as my fingers will allow. Much has happened.

I’ve mentioned that my friend is a very cuddly person. Today was no difference – as soon as she’d pressed play on the film, she’d already enveloped me in one of her bone-crushing hugs (she’s very strong). Normally, I let myself sink into these embraces, because she really is a phenomenal hugger, but today my speculations were so prevalent in my mind that I could hardly breathe when our bodies touched.

(She noticed my reaction right away, and immediately asked if I’d rather not hug (to which I replied a vehement no), and this really isn’t very important to the story, but I wanted to let you know.)

As the film progressed (largely unregarded by me, I must admit), I noticed several things about her behaviour that seemed odd, though:

One, her heartbeat became considerably faster as soon as Carol and Therese had met on-screen and it became clear that their relationship would be the focus of the film.

Two, she’s been side-eyeing me a lot more frequently than usual (she tends to watch me watch films if she knows the plot already, but considering she probably hasn’t seen Carol before, this seems out of character for her).

Three, and this is… I don’t even know how to feel about this, but… how do I formulate this best… When the sex scene was playing, I swear she looked at my cleavage and blushed.

I’m sort of ecstatic (because those are hints, right? I can’t be the only one to think that those are hints?) but also very very VERY worried that I’ve totally misinterpreted the entire situation. Then again, all of your comments sound incredibly hopeful and affirming, so I guess I’m not entirely wrong in my assumptions?

I need to go back now (I’ve been here way too long already), but I will definitely keep you updated. It’s so heart-warming to see how invested all of you are!

@everyone who told me to kiss her already: if she keeps this up, I just might :)

***

r/relationship_advice – posted by u/anonymous1000 – 1 hour ago

UPDATE! All’s well that ends well!

Hey everyone, I am so sorry for the late update. I ended up being… somewhat busy last night.

:) :) :)

So, long story short, we’re dating now. And yes, I did kiss her (or she kissed me, I can’t remember exactly. We somehow kissed each other simultaneously).

Long story slightly less short, because I see you hungering for details in the comments (and my now-girlfriend said you deserved to know), here is how it went down:

We didn’t even finish the film. We didn’t even resume the film, after I returned from the bathroom. Because when I did, giddy and ready to Do This, she wasn’t even looking at me. No, she was looking at her phone.

Now, I’ve never seen a person look at their phone with an expression quite as shocked as hers. She was, I’m not kidding, completely frozen (and if you knew her, you’d know that doesn’t happen often).

So naturally I rush over to her, worried as can be, thinking something bad happened, a catastrophe or maybe an accident in her family. And as I kneel by her side, and she still hasn’t moved, I happen to see what she’s been reading on her phone screen.

And it’s reddit.

I’m not gonna lie, for a second I thought it was all over. I mean, she’d obviously recognised us in my post (so much for anonymity everyone, the internet is treacherous), and judging by her expression, well… I assumed the worst.

But then she turns around and she fixes me with this incredibly cute stern stare she has, and she goes: “[My full name]. Have you browsed the relationship tag even once?”

And I shake my head, completely dumbfounded of course, because what does that have to do with anything. But apparently it plays a crucial role, because apparently you all know my girlfriend.

Her username is @supergirlssupercurls and she’s been posting the entire journey of our friendship/romance on this platform. Turns out she loves me too.

She’s also told me to end this with: and they lived happily ever after.

(Let’s hope we do).

#supercorp #supercorp fanfiction #sc fanfic #sc #supergirl #christmas #christmas fic #mini fic #my writing #movie night

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sheirukitriesfandom · 3 years

Text

OC-tober Day 1: Journey Despite my better judgement I decided to participate in @oc-growth-and-development's OC-tober because it gave me an excuse to write a little something about a certain Half-Maormer. The fandom is The Elder Scrolls, btw. Just in case anyone stumbles over this.

Keep your head down and your cowl even more so

His mother's words echoed in his ears as he followed yet another marble street. How could those altmer distinguish any of them? They all were white and straight. All houses looked the same, too, in the thick fog that covered Sunhold like an all-smothering blanket.

In his tiny hands, he held a letter. To the apothecary, his mother had said.

But how should he find the pharmacy? He shook his head and continued down the street until he reached a crossing. There, a lonely street light broke through the foggy twilight, its rays revealing shades, ghosts of people, tall and intimidating, the first sentinels of a new day.

Eyes to the ground, he pulled the cowl deeper over his face before turning into a street so narrow and dark that he could barely see his own feet. They should not—could not—see him; he was not welcome here. His fingers were sweaty and tight around the letter. From a nearby window, disembodied voices speaking of 'morning' and 'breakfast' floated out into the fading night.

He began to jog, nearly stumbling over a stair. Onwards, ever onwards. Where could the pharmacy possibly be?

The narrow street opened up into a large plaza. Through the fog sounded hurried steps and faceless voices, the clattering of hammers and the screeching of seagulls.

He breathed in deep and tasted salt.

The harbour.

He was at the harbour again. Crushed by desperation, he crumpled the letter and sunk to his knees.

He would never find the pharmacy.

Never!

"Mama," he whimpered and drew his knees up to his chin, "Mama…"

His eyes stung with tears. He was alone. All alone. A stranger, in a strange city, in a strange land.

"Are you lost, my child?"

A gentle voice knelt down by his side. He turned away.

The scales.

He had to hide his scales.

"Can I help you?"

"The pharmacy," he blurted out, "I need to find the pharmacy."

"Ah, I can take you there," the voice chuckled, "At my age, I could just as well move into the place. I think Forelmo would mind, though."

"You know the apothecary?" He jumped to his feet and grinned at his companion: an elderly woman with weathered features and shaggy grey hair.

Her eyes grew wide.

The scales.

His scales!

He shuddered and set out to run but was held back by a withered hand and a gentle smile.

"Come, I'll bring you there."

He swallowed. Should he trust in the kindness of strangers?

He glanced around, considering the offer.

If the old woman meant him harm, he could just run away and hide in one of the many streets leading away from the plaza. Surely he could outrun her easily.

After a while, he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and nodded.

"Please, bring me to him."

She took his hand, cold and sweaty, in her soft and warm one and guided him across the plaza, down a set of marble stairs and around a corner. The pharmacy was an unassuming building; nothing but a worn-down sign showing something like a small cauldron—Pynwir, the ship—medic owned one of those!—hinted at what lay behind those dark windows.

"Forelmo may be up already," the woman said, "And if he isn't, we're going to knock him awake," she winked and proceeded to hammer at the door.

Not a moment later, it opened, revealing a disgruntled looking older altmer.

His auburn hair was tied in a messy bun and streaked with grey. Although his face bore the markings of time, his bright eyes and pronounced chin had an elegance that made him appear ageless. The shirt he wore was beige and adorned with little green vines, some of which bore leaves that had been clumsily sewn over holes and tears.

"Forelmo, good to see you up already."

"Early to bed and early to rise, so they say," Forelmo shrugged. "Talenya, if this is about your salve—" His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the cloaked little boy, whose hand Talenya was still holding.

"He was looking for you," she explained and nudged the boy's shoulder. With shaky legs, he waddled forward towards Forelmo and handed him the letter.

Forelmo wasted no time, tore the envelope in one swift motion, and began to read. Each passing moment, his eyes grew wider and wider. When he finished reading, they were as big as those of a cod and as wet as the Eltheric Ocean. His lips were quivering. He opened his mouth to speak but could utter not even a single sound. At last, he sank to his knees, arms open wide.

Of course. The eyes, the chin...

How had he not recognised it immediately?

"Papa?" The boy asked and timidly took a step towards the man who bore a striking resemblance to himself.

Forelmo nodded.

"I... I suppose I am. Forelmo. My name's Forelmo. By Phynaster, had I known—had I only known she was pregnant..." Forelmo mumbled to himself, but the boy did not listen. His heart was pounding, breaking down a dam behind his eyes.

"Papa," he cried and threw himself at Forelmo, who pulled him into a tight, warm hug.

"Oh, I—I'm so sorry," Forelmo stammered, "I don't even know your name."

"I'm Corentin," the boy sobbed and nuzzled himself into that comfortable embrace that smelled of chamomile and earth and home.

#oc tober #elder scrolls #elder scrolls online #corentin #my ocs #my scribbles #corentin corentin sweet precious corentin #oc-tober

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exodusmc · 4 years

Text

Written in the stars

Genre: soulmate au, werewolf au, angst, fluff

Words: 1667

Paring: Werewolf Seungcheol x human reader

Warning!: Hinting to feeling very low and alone

a/n: I hope you know you shouldn’t follow a starnger :) btw I want to start writing for seventeeen cus I love them

gif is not mine

Watching the stars was what you loved the most, how they shone so bright while they were so far away, how they could still sparkle while the moon hung heavy in the sky. It was like they were a force which couldn't be taken down, like they would be up there forever.

The hill was in the outskirts of the city, edging to the forest standing tall and dark. You would come here whenever you felt down or the sky had lit up by the millions of stars, unfortunately were your reason the first one now.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, quiet and somehow invisible. You had always wondered how the people around seemed so oblivious to your pain, the hurt behind every smile, but over the time had you learned that it was your own fault for laying your happiness in their hands. If you just could talk to someone, everything would change, but you couldn't and was left to wither like the flowers during autumn. A shaky sigh left your lips, back pressed against the grass, and now were you somewhere else but on earth, a place where everything was magical and nothing hurt.

“Are you okay?”a voice broke your dream, made you sit up fast with wide eyes. Teras still fell down your face so you tried to dry them as fast as you could while the boy with raven hair and eyes like the sky above your head stared. He seemed concerned, a white shirt hanging loosely over his shoulders. It was odd in a way, since you were bundled up in a winter jacket and he was dressed so lightly.”Are you hurt?”

“N-no..”you sounded so weak in your own ears, sending shame right down your bones. He had caught you in your most vulnerable moment and you hated it.”..I’m fine..”

“Are you sure..?”the more you looked at him, the more relaxed you felt. He had a kind face, upper lip a bit bigger than the under and warm orbs. He was on the fairer side but you wouldn't call him pale.

“Yes..”he only shrugged to your answer, sitting down by your side but with a distance so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable. You watched as he gazed at the stars, how he mirrored them, and then he smiled, a gummy smile which made your heart race.

“Can you see Orion’s belt? It’s over there..”you finally managed to tear your eyes from his to watch where he pointed. His finger drew lines over the sky, connected the stars until they made pictures. All over the sky were small stories of people before you, they who had maped the heaven for everyone after.

You stayed with him for a long time, so long the first rays of the sun slowly peeked over the city. It surprised you slightly, the way he made you forget the world with just his voice, the soft melody of tones making you fly so far away from the grey.

“It’s morning…”

“It is..”you hadn't meant for it to be a question, just a simple statement which he answered with those lips and eyes, deep as the sky is wide.

“..I should go..”but you didn't want to leave him, this stranger who regarded life a little different, saw it through the night instead of the day.

“..You probably should…”no one moved, just watched the other as if to remember every line crossing over their face. He truly was breathtaking, born to meet you on the hill where grass was green.

So you sat, back leaving the ground as eyes found the city line. He did the same, shoulders brushing against the other, sparking life in your numb limbs. This stranger pulled you to him without reaching for you, had you trembling with no more than the feel of his shirt. He had made you forget about your hurt with just his presence and you didn't even know his name.

“Who are you?” if you had been with someone else, the question would have sounded stupid to your ears, sent embarrassment to colour your cheeks, but with him were you just curious and maybe a little scared, because what if he was just a dream? A dream too good to be true?

“I’m sorry…”and with that was he running away, disappearing into the thick forest hiding everything from the world. You had been right, he had been someone you weren't worthy of having, just your imagination losing its grip. A new tear rolled down your cheek, cracking the euphoric feeling you so greedily hogged. The world is just cruel, luring you with beauty that is more than a face, luring you with the beauty of a soul.

Oh how you hurt that week, felt every stab at your heart as your life slowly went on. He never left you dreams, a smile which haunted you, ripped your skin from your bones so you would feel naked. Pain and pain and pain and pain.

Saturday was your saving grace, a day you didn't have to do anything, a night you could spend by your safe space. Only he had changed it, dulled it just a bit. Looking around, you felt like there was a missing piece to the puzzle, a tree too little or a stone too much, all because of him and his smile.

“..Hello..” and there he was again, sheepishly watching you with those drowning orbs. If you would describe his expression would it be like a puppy who had done something it knew it shouldn't have.”How have you been?”

You wanted to hit him, scream all your pain he made you feel, but just sat there, watching, waiting for him to come.

His hair hung down his forehead, hiding his eyes just a bit, making him glance from under them. You could tell he studied you, careful with every move you made. He knew he had hurt you and oh how much pain he felt too.

“Why’d you leave?”down casting his face, he mumbled something too low for you to hear. The stranger you saw as a friend, a saviour, laid down on the grass, once again dressed in a thin shirt, muscles pressing against the fabric for you to see.

“I didn't want to..”frustration filled you, furrowed your eyebrows while your heart hurt.

“Then why?”your anger melted right off when he looked at you, eyes and forehead on full display. Pain filled him too, pulled you into his grasp once again.

“Because what if?”what if what? You wanted to ask, get the answer you thought you deserved but this boy only shook his head, turning to the stars so he could watch them with the eyes you wanted to feel.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”his voice was low, disappearing high in the sky as you tuned out the world in favour of hearing him, in favour of wondering about his words. Soulmates? No, you didn't believe in them because how you could you? When you always were left to stare at others and never feel the bond of only being someones and them being yours.”Well I do...I think it’s written in the stars..”

And he looked at you, straight through every layer you had, deep within your soul as the whole path you should walk stayed clear in his orbs. It wasn't written in the stars, it was written in his eyes. He was pulling you in with every breath, made you want to believe because how could you not want him? The stranger with no name but a familiar feeling to his smile.

“Do you think I’m yours?”you could hear how bitter you sounded, feet standing on the ground while you felt like you were flying. He was taller than you but the warmth in his eyes never let you feel scared.

“I know…”he was good at stealing your breath, good at make your aching heart feel like it was whole, good at luring you in with every gaze. He had spoke about the stars like they were his home but looked at you like you hung them where they were.”I know that you are mine as well as I’m yours because of what I am…”

Now were you confused. What he was? Human, with features soft as wind and the pull of the moon when he became your night. And you? Someone who felt like the world was wrong and only right when he stood by you.

“I’m a werewolf...Something from your stories but real..”you could say nothing, just watch as eyes turned sad and mouth tight lipped.”You were supposed to be mine and I’m yours, I knew it from the second I saw you..But I was scared of what you would think, so I left, went home to my pack where I felt awful..”

“There are more of you?”thoughts swirled in your head, made it hard to pull out the important parts.

“There are..13 to be exact..”a smile graced his face, broke that tense hard edge to his eyes for a second, brought back the warm feeling on your skin.”They are loud but they are my family...yours too if you want..”

Every rational part of your brain told you that this was crazy, that he crazy, but he didn't feel like he was lying. He felt so sincere, so scared when he added the last words, and what did you have at home? The empty feeling of staring at the ceiling alone in the dark?

“I don't even know your name…”that sheepish look came back as you realized that you had brushed over the important detail.

“..It’s Seungcheol…”

“Well Seungcheol I’m Y/n and I hope the stars are right..”he beamed as you said his name, hair standing by his nape when you kept speaking.”Because I want to see what they wrote..”

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writinginstardust · 4 years

Text

Office Christmas Party

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Prompt(s): we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward and “I hate work Christmas parties”

Warnings: suggestive of sexual content, swearing I think

A/N: Thanks to @writingbychelle and someone else for requesting these prompts! Me? Writing an AU? Yeah, that’s actually happening. Reader could be read as any gender in this btw!

Word Count: 1901

Ivan. Bane of my existence and quite possibly the most boring man I’d ever met. And he just had to find me on the night when I was supposed to be trying to have a good time for once. He literally would not shut up and I was starting to consider taking drastic measures to get away from him. At least soon I wouldn’t have to see him so much thanks to my imminent department transfer.

“Sorry, (Y/N), I’ve just spotted Aleks and I need a word with him. We can continue this later.” His eyes were trained somewhere over my shoulder as he spoke and he was suitably distracted from me now. Thank god.

“Sure. See you around.” I would not. Not if I could help it. He left without another word and I escaped to the other side of the party, hoping I could disappear in a dark corner and not be found by him again. If it weren’t so early in the evening and I hadn’t promised the girls in my department I’d stay, I’d have left then and there. Work parties were never something I’d particularly enjoyed. I didn’t know half the people there and of the half I did know, there were few I liked and even less that I’d like to see outside of the office. Add alcohol into the mix and it was a recipe for a vaguely hellish night.

Grabbing a drink, I made my way to a quiet corner with a mostly empty couch, only one other person occupying it. The man had a drink in hand and looked fed up. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here.

He looked up as I sank down next to him but didn’t say anything. I looked over, studying him for a minute. Someone I’d never met before which was a shame because he was drop dead gorgeous. Silky-looking blond hair, hazel eyes, jawline that could cut glass, impeccably dressed and styled perfectly on the line between casual and smart. It was a roguish handsomeness and I immediately found myself inexplicably drawn to him.

“You look like you’d rather be literally anywhere else,” I said after another couple of silent moments. He turned those beautiful eyes on me, a little smile playing on his lips that made my chest feel light.

“That’s because I would. I hate work Christmas parties.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Why are you here then?”

“I was forced by the girls in my department. What about you?” He pursed his lips, considering his answer for a minute.

“It was something of an obligation.” Strange obligation but I wouldn’t enquire further. “I’m Nikolai by the way.” He extended a hand to me and it was soft and warm when I shook it. Nikolai. That name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place why.

“(Y/N).”

“Can I get you another drink, (Y/N)?” I glanced down and found I’d managed to finish the one I picked up on the way here already.

“Yes, thank you. Raspberry Cosmo please.” He took my empty glass and headed for the bar. I watched him go, unable to keep my eyes from admiring his form in that perfectly tailored suit and the easy confidence he carried himself with. How had I never noticed this man before? He seemed to be the type that would have the girls in the office swooning and gossiping on the regular at the very least. Maybe they had and I’d just been too busy to notice. That must be it.

Nikolai returned quickly and for the rest of the night the conversation flowed as freely as the drinks. We ducked out of the party just before 11 and Nikolai invited me back to his place. Normally I would have politely declined. One night stands weren’t something I did, especially not with colleagues, however infrequently I might see them. But, well, I was more than drunk enough to shut off the rational part of my brain that was telling me this was a bad idea, and Nikolai was all kinds of perfect. I knew I’d regret it if this was my one chance and I didn’t take it.

So, I ended up in his bed and let him completely ruin me for any other man. He was a perfect gentleman, even in the midst of a drunken hookup and my god he was one talented bastard, managing to turn a pretty shit night into one of the best in my life.

It was bright when I woke up. Too bright. Even taking into account my hangover and how late in the day it probably was, it was much too bright. I opened my eyes as much as I could bear and squinted at my surroundings. It wasn’t my room and for a moment I was confused until the memories came flooding back. So that would also explain the warm body next to me then. The one that was shifting and looking very close to waking up. That would be my cue to leave then.

Quietly as I was able to, I slipped out of the bed and pulled my clothes back on, not bothering to properly fix my appearance until I’d left the room and gotten into the living room. It was there that the problem arose. The blinds were wide open and blinding white hit my eyes. Snow was everywhere and, though we were several stories up, I could tell it was deep. There was barely a soul on the streets and those few that I could see appeared to be almost up to their chests in it. There was no way I was going to be able to get out of this building, let alone back to my own apartment across town. Shit.

The soft pad of footsteps drew my attention from the window and I turned to find Nikolai vacating his room. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed me and his brow furrowed in confusion even as a small smile graced his lips.

“I thought you’d gone,” he said, voice scratchy.

“That might be a problem.” I gestured to the window and he took a few steps closer to me, eyes widening when he noticed all the snow.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Silence followed and I had no idea how to break it. What the hell was I meant to do now? I couldn’t leave but I couldn’t just stay here after last night, that would be unbelievably awkward. “Well, since you’re stuck here, would you like to borrow some clothes? I can’t imagine those are very comfortable.”

“You want me to stay here?” I asked in surprise.

“Well, what else are you going to do? You can’t go out in that.” He had a point.

“Won’t it be awkward?”

“Because we had sex?” I nodded and he shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. Might be a different story if it was bad.” He grinned and winked and heat flared in my cheeks but I found myself grinning back.

“Well it definitely wasn’t bad.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.” And just like that I was completely at ease again. “So, clothes?”

“Yes please.” I followed him back into his room and sat on the bed as he rummaged through his wardrobe for something comfortable and vaguely size appropriate.

“These are about the best I can do,” he said apologetically as he tossed a t-shirt and sweats to me. I pulled them on quickly, the material incredibly soft against my skin even if the clothes didn’t quite fit right. “Here, you can borrow this too.” He handed me what looked to be an old sports team hoodie and I held it up to inspect, curious at this new piece of information. I froze as I caught sight of the name emblazoned on the back. Lantsov. God, please let this not be what I thought. Nikolai noticed my reaction and shot me a questioning look.

“You okay?”

“Lantsov…” I looked up at him, wide-eyed. “As in…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh god.” That was why the name rang a bell and why I’d never seen him before. So, not only had I hooked up with someone from work, I’d managed to pick the CEO’s son. The CEO’s son who just so happened to be the reason for my transfer. I was going to be his personal assistant and I’d just slept with him. Could things have gone any worse?

“What’s wrong?” He asked, taking a seat beside me.

“You know how I told you last night that I was getting transferred?”

“I do.” A moment later it seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m going to be your assistant.” We sat in awkward silence for a minute or two. That had made things a whole lot worse. Now we were going to have to work together every day, how on Earth was that going to work after last night?

“Well, as your new boss, I should probably tell you I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my employees.” Nikolai finally said.

“I don’t usually sleep with colleagues or superiors either.”

“That being said. I’m not opposed to this happening again.” I looked at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious?”

“I am.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a PA and their boss ended up together.” The way he said that implied more than just the casual sex I thought he’d been talking about and I couldn’t deny the way my heart fluttered at the thought.

“So…?”

“So, I know we only met last night but I like you and I’d like to take you out on a proper date.” My breath hitched at the offer and I itched to just say yes but the rational part of my brain was working uninhibited by alcohol now.

“And what if it doesn’t work out? What do we do about work?”

“I assure you, I can be perfectly professional if that should happen. I’d like to hope it won’t though.” And god, so did I.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll give it a try.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss me, managing to leave me breathless even though it was relatively tame. I followed his lips instinctively when he pulled back and his grin widened.

“Y’know,” he started, hands sliding around my waist and pulling me a little closer. “I was going to suggest watching movies all day, but I think I might have a better idea.”

“I think I might too,” I breathed out before Nikolai connected our lips again, the kiss far more suggestive than last time bust still unhurried. He guided me back on the bed and pressed closer.

With my fingers tangled in his hair and his tracing the lines of my body, we made out lazily for what could very well have been hours though I couldn’t be sure and didn’t really care. There wasn’t much else to do after all and the longer I was with him, the more difficult it became to think of a good reason to keep my hands to myself. Nikolai appeared to have the same problem. Coherent thoughts that weren’t about him were buried deep down as his touch made me forget anything else, but a single one reached me through the haze: maybe work Christmas parties weren’t so bad after all.

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

Grishaverse: @chiefqueenenthusiast @unconditional-love-and-support

#nikolai lantsov #Grishaverse #The Grisha Trilogy #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse imagine #tgt #tgt fanfic #tgt imagine #reader insert

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monsterlovinghours · 5 years

Note

Incubus!Beej angst where reader gets upset because ‘you only want to be around me when you’re hungry!’ And beej can’t deny it but then when they storm off he realises he actually has deeper feelings, something rare for a demon like him. Reader probably comes back later anywhere from tipsy to totally smashed, and beej takes care of them and reminds them that they’re /his/ pet breather and he does really care about them, why else would he not want to feed on anyone else?Your writing is amazing btw

all aboard the feels train

Rain pattered against the window, blown against the glass by cold gusts of wind. You could feel the chill outside through the glass, the branches of the tree and your hands shaking to the same irregular rhythm, as if the gale outside was blowing through you as well, whistling through the empty parts of you. You wondered as you watched the rain how emptiness could ache so much.

Today had been hard. He was gone when you woke up, you didn’t know when he would be back, and you had been gutted to realize that you missed him. It had been a few weeks since Beetlejuice had first appeared in your dreams, filling your head with erotic promises, cajoling whispers, visions of obscene acts that made you moan and writhe in the bed. You had no choice but to surrender, to end the sweet torture by whispering his name three times, and open your eyes to the very real incubus crawling over you. Every day since then had been occupied by him, plans you had made abandoned to appease his seemingly bottomless hunger. Never in your life had you ever felt so desired, so wanted, but in the spare moments when he let you out of his sight to clean up or change the sheets, you had to steady yourself, take a deep breath and remind yourself that this wasn’t the same thing as love. His lust was born out of necessity, not from any real emotion; you were a source of nourishment, and that was the extent of it. There would be no point in trying to look for something that wasn’t there, or to develop feelings for someone who could never return them. Sound advice, but you could no more stop yourself from growing attached to him than you could stop the earth from turning. When you had roused from sleep, the taste of him still etched on your lips and your thighs still sticky with his spend, to find your bed cold and empty, your eyes stung and your chest ached. You almost said his name, almost called him back to you, but something stopped you, a small but insistent voice.

He left because he doesn’t care.

He got his fill of you and now he’s moved on.

You’re pathetic, clinging to any shred of attention just so you can fool yourself into thinking someone wants you.

Don’t humiliate yourself. Suck it up and accept that you’ll always be alone.

So you had stayed silent, moping about the house as the stormclouds began gathering outside, finally folding yourself against the window to watch the rain fall. It was easier here, somehow, with your cheek against the cold glass; it was easy to pretend it was the rain that made you sad, the gloom outside that brought the tears to your eyes, and not the gaping loneliness.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, sweeping your hair to the side to expose your neck, still covered in his marks, for a brief moment, you felt a tiny flicker of hope. At the press of his mouth just beneath your ear, his hands dropping to curve in your waist, that flicker died out, and your hurt tripled. He was just hungry again. That was the only reason he returned. Biting your lip, you shrugged away from him, willing the tears back. Beetlejuice huffed, then wrapped his arms around your middle and dragged you back against him, teeth scraping across the juncture of neck and shoulder. Suddenly, that cold, emptiness turned scorching, anger at his casual use of you searing through your nerves, and you jerked out of his grasp.

“Leave me alone.”

He growled. “What’s your problem, snack cake?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Fucking clearly.” He grabbed your arm, turning you to face him and yanking you forward, spilling you against him. “What’s with the cold shoulder all of a sudden? You didn’t seem to mind being touched last night-”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your hand felt cold, numb as you drew it back and slapped him hard across the face. Shocked, his grip loosened, and you backed away from him, your face contorted in uncharacteristic rage.

“I said, leave me alone!” You remembered what he had said that first night, smirking down at you, hand outstretched but not quite touching you. I can’t take what isn’t offered. “I revoke my consent!”

He snarled, but stayed where he was, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly at his sides. “Start talking, feeder. What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” You shot back, eyes narrowed, shaking from head to toe. “Don’t insult me by pretending to care; you don’t give a shit about how I feel and you never have. The only reason you’re even here is because you’re hungry!”

He had the decency to look a little taken aback, brows furrowed in confusion. “Well...yeah. I’m an incubus, babe, this is how it works. You know that.”

Knowing it was one thing. Hearing him say it out loud was another, and you couldn’t stop your lip from trembling or your breath from hitching in your chest. He tried taking a step towards you, but you skittered back, wanting to stay as far from him as possible. You couldn’t take it, you couldn’t stay here another minute, couldn’t bear to even look at him; you turned on your heel and ran for the door, bolting outside and into the rain, ignoring his shouts for you to wait, to come back and talk to him, dammit! The door slammed, leaving him alone in your empty, silent house.

Beetlejuice paced in front of the windows, the floorboards creaking beneath him, hair that had been baleful crimson before now a deep, bruise-colored violet. You had been gone for hours. He growled to himself, and although the sound was angry, not a hint of red appeared in his hair. He couldn’t find it in himself to be mad; if anything, he was worried. Worried about a silly human feeder out in the rain, and wasn’t that absurd? Why should he care what happened to you? Why did the thought of you storming off with tears in your eyes make his chest hurt? Why hadn’t he gone after you? His hands raked back through his hair, not used to the strange tumble of different emotions crashing through him, not sure that he particularly liked feeling this way. This wasn’t how these things were supposed to go; he had certainly never felt this way about any other human he’d fed from. Maybe...maybe it wasn’t just hunger that led him back to you. Maybe it was...something else? Something he couldn’t name, didn’t want to name.

He heard the door open, and saw you tumble through the doorway, soaked to the skin and swaying on the spot. Swearing beneath his breath, he rushed to you, ignoring the burn on his palms as he touched you, steadied you. You were mumbling something, your words slurred and garbled and indecipherable, and Beetlejuice rolled his eyes as he caught the strong smell of hundred proof whiskey on your breath. “Fucking hell, snack cake, what did you go and do that for?”

“Rather be drunk than be sad,” you slurred, leaning against him. In your inebriated state, you couldn’t give consent to be touched, and every contact burned, but he grit his teeth and picked you up regardless, ignoring the faint sizzling of his skin as he brought you to your bed. He laid you out on the blanket, knowing it would be nearly impossible for him to remove your wet clothes, and settled for draping two more blankets over the top of you, lying over your form and hoping that his weight would warm you. At least now, you didn’t seem to protest his nearness, and for that, he was grateful. Beetlejuice sighed, the violet in his hair fading back to green at the roots.

“If I wasn’t already dead, I’d say you’re going to put me in an early grave,” he muttered. His tail swished through the air as he watched you grow still and silent under the blankets, drifting off into alcohol-assisted slumber. He could only imagine the headache you were going to have when you woke tomorrow. “Jesus, babe...I’m supposed to be the messy one.” His mouth quirked in a dry smile, unsure if you could still hear him, if you could understand him. “You’re the good one here, the one with your shit together. I’m a thousand year old demon with mommy issues who has to fuck to survive. And I can’t even do that right.” What had begun to fade to green now turned deep blue, and he lowered his cheek to your blanket-covered shoulder. “I’m not supposed to have feelings for my food. I’m not supposed to worry about you. But you...you’re mine, you know? I want to keep you. My own little pet breather.” He chuckled, but the sound was devoid of humor. “I don’t wanna feed on anyone else. No one else tastes like you do, no one else...makes me feel things the way you do.” He buried his face in the blankets, a frustrated sound muffled among them. “You’re not even going to remember this, you’re going to wake up tomorrow and still hate me, but fuck it, I’m not leaving again. If you’re gonna hate me, I’m gonna stick around and take it. I’d rather have your hate than your nothing.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #incubus!beej #did I intend to make myself cry?#no but here we are

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chickenscript · 5 years

Text

nosh

A/N: got taken over by the holy writing spirit and made this oneshot for @donitkitt 's Aftermath AU. i love their turt designs and hcs, and couldn't help writing something about bby mikey ;; sorry if it seems ooc or anything btw. also wow it’s been a while huh?

ps: leo drew smth for this and hhh it's so cute ;;

You weren’t a cook in the slightest. But, for Mikey, you'd try your best.

Raph was out with Casey for the night and with everyone else having about the same cooking skill, you decided to raise your hand and volunteer for the job.

It was one of those times Mike actually had a real appetite, so you felt a bit of pressure to make sure you made something he could enjoy. His eating disorder worried you, even though it wasn’t all that new anymore- all of the brother's collective issues did. It was constantly at the back of your mind, that and the fact your friends weren't ever going to be the same turtles you once knew.

Of course you still loved them and cherished their friendship, it just took some adjusting to. You were still getting used to Mikey not wanting to scarf anything and everything down- you remembered having to elbow him whenever he wanted to pick off your plate. He was so much more tame around food now, and if it was anyone else, you could have brushed off the shift in behavior.

But, Mikey wasn't somebody else.

You finally got a hand on the last can of soup in the upper kitchenette cupboard. You had to stand on a stool just to reach it.

It was hearty clam chowder and just a few weeks before it's expiration date. The boys needed to restock their food stash soon actually. Everything was getting on the empty side in the kitchen.

You hopped down from the stool and set out to snatch a dinged pot from the hanging rack. You set it on a stove burner, breaking open the soup can with a butter knife.

Donnie kind of wrecked the automatic can opener and was using the scrap for who knows what.

You dumped the contents of the can into the pot and looked over into the den area where Mikey was playing his Switch. His tongue stuck out to the side in concentration and his eyes had this focused, squinty glaze. You chuckled to yourself.

Despite what happened, there were still shards and glimmers of before-Mikey under his new ticks and the unfamiliar tooth gap in his smile. Same with his more brutally scarred brothers.

Sometimes you wished that you were the one taken instead. So the turtles could have been spared all the trauma torn into them that they hid under leather fronts of I'm alright. I can handle it. But more than that, you wished nothing more than to shred into the man who inflicted all that pain.

Mikey called your name and you look over at him again to find him peering from around the couch at you, concerned.

You realized you're clenching the wooden spoon in your hand so tight it was creaking.

Right, you were supposed to be using that to stir the soup. Which was frothing and threatening to boil over now from being on high heat for too long.

You breathe and turn the bubbling, thick soup, lowering the burner flame in tandem.

"It's all good Mike. I think the soup's done actually." you let the soup sit a moment more as you go to get a bowl and a spoon. Moving fast as you then turn off the burner and tip the soup into the bowl.

You take the bowl to the den, rejoining Mikey in front of the beat up TV set. You sit down with crossed legs and hold the dish out to the turtle. The smatters of freckles between his eyes wrinkled as his brows stitched together.

"Are you sure you're okay? You were uh, staring at that pot for a long time." he takes the warm bowl in his large hands.

You nod with a flickering sort of smile, "Yup. Now you eat and I'll win us a race."

You nab the Switch remote in his lap and unpause the game on screen.

He was in his second to last lap of a Mario Kart race and holding a steady third place that you quickly work on turning into first.

You shoot glances at Mikey as he timidly takes spoonfuls of clam chowder, as if he was afraid the food might turn hard and bite back.

You breathe again and ease your grip on the Switch remote, trying to clear your mind.

..You needed to go blow off some steam after this.

#donitkitt #aftermath au #tmnt #reader insert #michelangelo #smorch #father leo

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spooky-scary-imagines · 5 years

Note

heyo! could you write something for michael / billy / stu / and any other slasher you think would be good - about their s/o who has a really bad stutter (and who possibly might be bullied or something of the nature) your work is really good and ahh!! i needed to see a stuttering mess in a work to make me happy about my own stutter

((Totally! I hope these lil drabbles help cheer you up some! And remember, never feel bad about your voice. It’s not the way you talk that matters, it’s the words and the feelings behind them. I’d write for all of them if I could but I decided to add Bubba, Norman, and Chop-Top for this one cause two of them have a stutter (though Chop-Top’s ain’t as strong and Norman’s is more due to anxiety and therefore written different) and the other is just always v good. They’re also some of my favorites so I’ll always love writing them lol. Btw I tried my best to write a stutter accurately but, like always, I want to make sure I didn’t write anything offensive or inaccurate so let me know if there’s anything along those lines. Also, this is long af so I added a read-more.

Various slashers s/o with a stutter:

Michael:

“M-M-Michael d-d-don’t do this,” you pleaded. He stared at you emotionless, as he plunged the knife back in.

“P-P-please! You-You pr-promised!” He ignored you and pulled the knife in and out of the now-mutilated flesh.

”Y-Y-You sa-said you would w-w-wait! It’s n-n-n-not e-even H-Halloween!” He reached in and pulled out a mass of slimy guts and pulp, then gestured to you to take it. You held out your hand and took his offering, mildly disgusted.

You went to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a gallon Ziploc bag, dumping the handful inside. “H-Here. We-we’ll j-j-j-just save s-some and I’ll m-make something w-w-w-with it l-later.” Michael set the knife off to the side and lifted up his current “project” as if presenting it for your approval. You rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway.

“Yes, i-it’s a b-b-b-b-beautiful J-Jack O’Lantern, M-Michael. B-B-But it’s gon-gonna r-rot if we p-p-put it out n-now!” But even as you say it you know you might as well break out the tea candles.

Billy:

Once the bell rang, you nearly ran out of the classroom to your locker. You glowered as you replaced the books from your previous class with the ones for your next. You slammed the door shut to see your boyfriend standing behind it, a wicked, yet charming smirk on his face.

“Boo.” You just rolled your eyes.

“N-Not in the m-m-mood.”

His brow furrowed at that, usually you were more happy to see him. “What’s up babe?” his eyes looked around defensively at your fellow classmates wandering the halls, “Some punks giving you shit again?”

“N-No…” you sighed, “The t-teacher c-c-c-called on me in c-c-class today to r-r-read. Asshole kn-knows I d-d-don’t w-wanna t-talk in front of ev-everyone.”

Billy scowled at that, “What a fucking prick. Want me to teach him something?”

You hesitated for a moment, he was a jerk, but no. “D-D-Don’t w-worry ab-b-bout it B-Billy…He’s-he’s j-j-just doing hi-his job…”

“Hey,” Billy gripped you reassuringly by the shoulders, getting you to look him in the eyes, “Never let nothings like that make you think less of yourself baby. You’re amazing just the way you are.”

You almost felt yourself well up at his thoughtful words. Sometimes he shocked you with how sweet he could be. You nodded, and leaned into hug him.

He returned the embrace, and you felt him lean down to whisper into your ear, “You wanna just ditch and watch movies at my place?” A very tempting offer you may just take him up on.

Stu:

“H-H-Hello? Wh-Who’s this?”

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Ha Ha, very f-f-funny. Wh-Who’s th-th-th-this? F-for real.”

“I’m the scary killer outside your window…”

“Oh s-s-sure. I b-bet,” sarcasm and annoyance dripping from your words, “Quit b-being a creep R-R-Randy.”

“It’s not Randy. That your boyfriend?”

At that comment, you started to get an idea of who your mysterious caller was, but decided to play along. “N-Nah, b-b-but I d-do h-have one.”

“Oh yeah,” the voice giggled, “And what’s he like? Bet he wouldn’t like you talkin’ to lil ole me.”

“P-p-probably n-not, b-b-but he’s not h-here. And you h-h-haven’t h-hung up.”

There was a pause on the other end, then a huff. “You never answered my first question.”

“Oh? Th-that th-thing ab-b-bout s-scary movies? Yeah, I l-l-like ‘em”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You hesitate for a second, while it would be fun to keep this going, you feel like upping the ante a bit. “I d-d-don’t know. H-How ab-b-bout you c-come up h-here and w-w-watch o-one w-with me?”

“What about your boyfriend?”

“C-C-Come on M-Mister K-K-Killer, h-he c-can join. I th-th-think you kn-know w-where t-to find h-him.”

You heard a shuffling on the other end and then the call abruptly ended. You sat in silence for a moment, curious about what would happen next. A familiar rapping sound came from outside your window. You pulled back the curtain, revealing your boyfriend standing there with his signature goofy grin plastered across his face. Through the glass you hear the voice you’d missed, “Wanna let me in?”

Bubba:

The Sawyer home was unusually quiet right now. With Drayton out at the gas station and his other brother doing god-knows-what, just you Bubba and Grandpa were left at the house. With Bubba working downstairs, you had been left to your own devices. Though you didn’t mind some alone time, it was odd that you hadn’t really seem hide-nor-hair of your beau lately. Though that seemed like it would be changing pretty soon, as you heard the large metal door to the kitchen slam. You turned to see Bubba coming towards you, happily clutching something in his hands.

“W-W-What’ve you g-got there B-Bubba?” He excitedly shoved the object, which you know could tell was a book, into your hands. “Where the Sidewalk Ends” the cover read, with a drawing of two children looking over what looked like the edge of a cliff. You flipped through it, and it appeared to be a collection of poems cute illustrations to go with them. You turned back at your love, who was watching you eagerly, seemingly trying to figure out your reaction.

“It s-seems like a v-very n-nice b-b-book H-Honey. Th-th-thank you.” His brow seemed to furrow underneath his mask and he poked the book more insistently. You cocked your head in confusion, “I’m af-f-fraid I d-don’t get w-what your s-s-saying.” He opened the book and a warbling hum came from him as he pointed from the words to you.

“You w-w-want m-me to r-r-read it? Out l-loud?” He squealed happily and nodded. “ Are y-you s-s-sure? B-B-But W-what ab-bout th-the way I t-talk?” He nodded again and pulled you into his lap on the couch. He hugged you tightly around the waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he looked down at the book. You laughed softly about his enthusiasm, “Alr-right…I-Invitation…If y-you are a dreamer c-c-come in. If y-you are a dreamer, a w-wisher, a liar. C-Come in….

Chop-Top:

The whole Sawyer house was very much relieved today. It had been awhile since anyone had driven by and food was running kinda low, making everyone a bit on edge and touchy. Luckily, a whole van of people stopped by last night and were quickly dispatched, meaning everyone would get to eat. Your boyfriend’s brothers were currently preparing and cooking the meat, while your boyfriend looted and organized the belongings of the now-cattle.

“Y/N! C-Come in here and take a look at this!” your boyfriend hollered from the other side of the house. This was somewhat ominous as you never could tell what he was going to show you when he got excited like this. His tone of voice when showing you a neat bug was the same when he was propping up and goofing off with a corpse. You walked in and he was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a mess of objects scattered around him. On him was the ugliest shirt you had ever seen. It looked like bowling alley carpet had a love child with a kid’s drawing of what a Hawaiian shirt was supposed to look like. It physically hurt your eyes a bit to look at it. “Check out th-these digs babe!” he crowed.

“W-Wow…th-that s-sure is…c-c-copacetic.”

“I know r-right!” He turned back to admire himself in the dirty wall mirror, “T-Totally far-r out!

You hid a grin behind your hand, “You’re one sh-shagad-d-delic c-cat.”

He whipped back around to face you, beaming ear to ear, “Awww sh-shucks,” he wadded his way through the mess over to you, throwing his boney arms around you waist. “You’re pretty b-bitchin’ your-yourself,” he crooned, pressing a sloppy and slightly gross kiss on your cheek. Maybe you could get used to the shirt…

Norman Bates:

There was a record playing in the main lobby of the motel when your returned from tidying one of the cabins. As you stepped in farther, you could make out your sweetheart’s voice singing along softly. Curiosity drew you closer and you watched from the doorway as he folded laundry. His voice was as sweet and smooth as honey and the melody seemed to drip into you, wrapping around and warming your heart.

“It takes a lot of sunshine…To make a s-summer day…But just a little love…Can go a long, long way…”

You wolf-whistled, and he whipped around to face you, dropping the shirt he was holding. “Oh dear, I, um, well, you, w-weren’t supposed, to, er, see t-that.”

You moved towards him, picking up the shirt from the floor and returning it to him. “Y-You s-s-sing b-beautifully you kn-know.”

His eyes flicked back to meet your’s, “R-Really, I, well, I just never, s-sing in front of anyone…”

You smiled, looking up at him with faux innocence, “H-How does th-this one g-g-go again? So i-i-i-incid-dentally…”

He gulped, “Um, Treat love g-gently…”

“W-When it c-c-comes in view…”

“It-It could even, even happen to…”

You both joined in for the last line, “S-someone l-l-like you…”

As the song played on in the background you realized how close the two of you had gotten. You both blushed and turned away slightly, but neither of you could hide the blush or grins painted across your faces.

#holy fuck I took forever on this one #I'm begging you to listen to Tony Perkins (Norman) sing #My heart busts a metaphorical NUT to his singing voice like oml #michael myers #halloween #billy loomis #stu macher #scream #bubba sawyer #chop top sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #norman bates #psycho #slasher imagines #slasher

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imagining-supernatural · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2: History Class

Cracks In The Dam Series – Reader’s POV

She’s a quiet engineering and physics major trying to forget the demons of her past, and he’s the campus playboy trying to turn over a new leaf. Their friendship is unlikely, but just might be forged to withstand the cracks in the dams they’ve built to protect themselves. (BuckyxReader college au)

Word Count: 1900

You know how you always seem to have that one class each semester that just makes you give up three minutes into the first day? History was that class for me. I was halfway through the semester and barely holding onto a D. Maybe if I paid attention in class instead of sketching new ideas in my notebook, I could bring that grade up, but honestly, who cares? It’s history. I just need a D to pass.

“Another exciting day learning about fifteenth century history,” someone says, plopping down in the chair next to me. The husky scent of his cologne and faint tinge of cigarette smoke gives away his identity before I even look up.

“Oh lovely. Another stimulating conversation with Bucky.”

He chuckled and leaned back in the chair. “It’s been long two days without me. I know it’s hard, doll.”

“Why don’t you go sit with your harem?” I was referring to the group of girls he usually sat with in the back of the lecture hall. “I’m sure they need your attention more than I do.”

“Probably.” No shame. Not even an ounce of shame. No embarrassment. No sense of humility. How do people find him—

Okay. Fine. He’s attractive. But how do people stand to be around him?

My watch vibrates, letting me know I have a text, and I look down at it to see that Tony texted me. Thankful for the distraction, I grab my phone out of my backpack and open the conversation.

Tony: Jarvis thinks I have a concussion and keeps wanting to call an ambulance. Tell him I’m fine.

“God, it’s like babysitting a five-year-old,” I mumble. He’s nearly twice my age, but Tony Stark is just a giant baby underneath his playboy exterior. I suppose rather than an uncle, he’s more like an annoying older brother.

“That the dude from your date on Friday?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date.”

Canary: You designed Jarvis. He knows you better than you do. If he thinks you have a concussion, go to the damn hospital.

Canary: What did you do, btw?

“Not a date. Right. Dressed like you were? Doll, that dress you wore was probably more than my last paycheck.”

Setting my phone down, I gave all of my attention to the dark-haired man beside me. “Why so interested in my love life, Barnes? Your one-night stands getting boring?”

He leaned forward, arms crossed on his desk, and gave me a smirk with that damn twinkle in his eye. “Why so defensive, Y/L/N? Jealous that your best friend found her true love and you struck out on Friday night?”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me about Nat and Steve. They’re disgusting. Literally they’re always making out on the couch or in my kitchen or… ugh.” I’m happy for Nat, but still. Boundaries, girl!

Tony: It’s Bubba’s fault. I tweaked the thrusters and tested them out and that stupid machine didn’t spot me like he should have.

Tony: If I had a concussion, would I be able to type grammatically correct sentences? Checkmate.

“Boy trouble?” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and I just shot him a dirty look.

“Boss trouble. Gimme a sec.” Rather than text him back, I dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. I didn’t even give him time to say hello when he answered. “Go to the damn hospital, Tony.”

“No time, Cannie. We’ve got that—”

“I will drag your stupid ass to the hospital myself. If I’m going to be on my A-Game this week, you need to be too. I need your brain. It’s the whole reason I have a job. I’m going to tell Jarvis to call that ambulance.”

“They’ll just tell me I can’t do the presentation and—”

“For fucks sake, man. I’ll do the presentation. Your brain is your best asset and no-no, don’t say anything. I regret that word choice already. You need to make sure you didn’t fuck up and ruin it.”

“Grammatically correct sentences.” He said pointedly. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe it when a doctor tells me that.” I hung up and immediately called the line that Tony set up for me to directly connect to Jarvis. “Jarvis, I’m overriding whatever stupid command Tony gave you and telling you to call a goddamn ambulance.”

“Miss Y/L/N, I cannot approve an override without—”

“Override code: Please and thank you.”

There was a moment of silence before Jarvis approved the code and called an ambulance. I just loved that AI. I swear, he was more human than most humans sometimes.

By the time I finished with all of that drama, Bucky was watching me with a puzzled grin on his lips. “I’ve never heard anyone talk to their boss like that.”

“You’ve never met my boss. You’d understand.”

Just as Bucky was about to say something else, the professor drew everyone’s attention to begin another boring lecture. As usual, my attention span lasted roughly thirty seconds before I was bored to tears and turned to a clean page in my notebook.

Tony said he was messing with the thrusters? I could only imagine the kind of scene that played out when he tested them. Get footage from Jarvis, I wrote in the margin of the page before starting playing around with the thruster design.

For the presentation on Friday, we would definitely have to go with the original design. There was no way I was going to trust one of Tony’s tweaks less than a week before the biggest presentation of my life. This might not be as big of a deal for him, but this was my first real presentation. If I could nail this in front of the entire board of Stark Industries, the CIA, and select individuals from the US Armed Forces, then I was set for life. I would have my choice of jobs. I could do whatever I ever imagined after graduating next year.

I just couldn’t let Tony screw this up.

But since I knew him, I knew that he was going to play around with the design until he got bored with it, so I had to keep up with him. Maybe I could even come up with some ideas he hasn’t yet. Beat the great Stark to a breakthrough. That was the dream…

My watch vibrated again and I glanced down to see the message scrolling past the screen.

Jarvis: Mr. Stark has been admitted to New York-Presbyterian Hospital. He is not happy. I will keep you updated on his whereabouts so you will be able to find him when you are finished with your classes for the day.

“Big baby,” I whispered under my breath.

Warm breath on my shoulder drew my attention to Bucky, who was leaning over to look at my notebook. “You a fashion designer or something?”

“Or something,” I muttered. He was entirely too close to me, so I shoved him lightly. “Dude, personal space.”

The rest of class went by uneventfully. Bucky kept trying to distract me and I kept squinting at my notes on the project. There was something I could do with it. Something I hadn’t thought about yet. I just knew it.

Before I knew it, class had passed and everyone was suddenly moving, shoving their notebooks and laptops into their bags. As if snapped out of a daze, I looked around.

“Well, that was a fascinating lecture, as usual,” Bucky drawled, stretching his arms back and over his head. Why guys always took up so much space was a mystery to me.

“I sure hope none of that is gonna be on the test,” I mumbled, gathering my things.

Bucky stayed by my side and, uncharacteristically, stayed quiet until we were out of the classroom. Ever since Nat, my best friend, started dating Steve, his best friend, Bucky and I found ourselves together all too often. So I knew that he rarely shut up.

“You know,” he started, and I nearly groaned. So close. So close to a full sixty seconds without speaking. That would have been a record. “I could help you out with this class.”

“You? Really?”

His brow furrowed minutely and there was a wounded expression that flashed across his eyes. It was so brief that I nearly didn’t catch it. “Hey now, just because I’m hot and sexy as hell doesn’t mean I can’t be smart too. You should know.”

That made me scoff. “Right.”

But… if Bucky really could help me out in this class… I was teetering right on the edge of failing. I really didn’t want to retake this class next semester…

“No strings?”

“What kind of strings would I attach, Y/L/N?”

We stepped out into the cool fall air and I stopped just before going down the stairs to the building. Bucky imitated me and I eyed him for a long few moments, trying to discern his true intentions. Why did he offer to help me? What did he have to gain?

“Okay,” he gave in with a hidden smile. “Fine. One string.”

“Ha! I knew it!” There was always something.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to word his stipulation. “One string: friendship. That’s it. I promise. I’ll help you, but you have to admit that we’re friends.”

That was not at all what I had been expecting. “Why?”

He huffed a small laugh and there might have actually been a spattering of blush on his cheeks. “Alright, this is going to make me sound like a complete douche, but it’s the truth. I swear.”

“Spit it out, Buck.”

“I like this,” he motioned to the space between us. “Because you’re not into me. Besides Nat, you’re the only other woman who doesn’t try to get my attention or get into my pants. It’s refreshing.”

“Poor Bucky,” I crooned. “It must be so hard to have all the women falling over themselves for you. Being the resident sex-god must just be the worst.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Douchey, right?”

I shook my head and started walking towards the library. “It’s conceited, is what it is. I can guarantee you that Nat and I are not the only women who don’t want to sleep with you. You just never notice the girls who don’t pay any attention to you.”

“You’re probably right,” he surrendered. “But about our deal, whattaya say, friend? Besides, we’re gonna spend a lot of time together anyway, with Nat and Steve dating. Might as well just accept the inevitable.”

My watch vibrated just as I started to respond and I glanced down to see a short message from Tony seconds before another text came through from Jarvis.

Tony: I hate you.

Jarvis: Mr. Stark has a mild concussion but is otherwise in excellent health. He is going back home.

Turning my attention back to Bucky, I gave him a small smile. “Let’s see how the first study session goes.”

“Tomorrow at one? Grab some lunch while we’re at it?” With a victorious grin, he started walking backwards away from me.

“I have to work all day. I can do Wednesday at one though.”

“I’ll meet you at your place with food, then. See ya later, friend!”

Watching him walk away, I wondered what the hell I’d just gotten myself into.

Series Taglist Open. Add Yourself HERE

Bucky Babes: @lavieenlex @hallow-hazel @infinity-dreamchaser @clintawcoffeenobarton @amomenttowrite @zanthiasplace @clairese1980 @bandbandeau @zahiaouzidane @li-ssu @mogaruke @molly-hooperific @optimistic-babes @amomenttowrite @scarletlingeries

CITD Tags: @skatinginpr0gress @lilypalmer1987

#buckyxreader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel oneshot #buckyxreader fluff #tony stark #bucky barnes #tonyxplatonic!reader #college au

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scgdoeswhat · 6 years

Text

Lost - Jake x MC

Summary: Jake struggles with the aftermath of what happened that last night on La Huerta.

Rating: PG

Words: 970

Author’s Notes: This is based off the third ending (I still haven’t ended the book, btw.) I purposely left my MC’s name (Cris) out of this because Jake, in my headcanon, hurts even more when he thinks of her name. I was feeling relatively emo through the weekend, partly because of the news of Avicii’s death (RIP Avicii.) I’m not big on EDM, but I can appreciate his music and it reminded me of a couple important people I knew and lost who were also big in the music industry. The lyrics from “Wake Me Up” were in my head as I wrote this.

The vortex.

That look in her eye.

Their last kiss.

Jake shot up in bed, sweat drenching his entire body.

The sheet pooled at his hips as he sat upright, nothing but darkness streaming in from the window. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, the outside Louisiana humidity somehow percolating the indoor air. The weather was not unreasonably warm and the temperatures were still mild for spring, but none of that seemed to matter to him. His vivid dreams – or were they nightmares, he thought – were always too stifling.

He took a few deep breaths, letting the cool nighttime air settle over his bare-chested frame. It would be of no use trying to go back to sleep tonight. He had learned from previous episodes that lying back down would only bring more memories from that last night in La Huerta. His mind would flood with everything that happened, down to the very last detail.

Was there anything he could have done differently? Did he not try hard enough to change her mind? Was he simply just not good enough?

The evening replayed in his mind as it always did, and he knew his questions were foolish. He knew she was special, but just like everything in his life, it was not meant to last for him.

There was nothing he could have done differently. There was no amount of pleading that would have been able to change her mind. Despite his own misgivings about himself, she always showed him that he was everything to her and more.

But this wasn’t about her or him or being destined for each other. This was bigger than both of them. As selfish as she wanted to be, as selfish as he wanted her to be… her selflessness was one of the reasons he had fallen so madly and deeply in love with her. And that’s why he had to let her go – not that it was ever his choice to make in the first place.

Jake threw a shirt and some jeans on, and out of habit, moved soundlessly through the hall. He continued down the stairs and out the patio door to the backyard of his grandparents’ house. They had both passed during the time he was on the run, but his Grampa was adamant in his belief that Jake was as loyal as he was and would never betray his country. They had left their Pearl River property to their grandson, somehow knowing he would one day come home a free man.

The house was eerily quiet these days with him being the only occupant and was the complete opposite of his recollection growing up. He remembered telling her about this place when he had found her after she fell out of the helicopter. ‘Soulmates’ had been a foreign concept to him before she entered his life, and now, the ironic thing was that he could feel the emptiness in his soul ever since she had vanished into the pillar of light.

Jake took a seat in one of the deck chairs under the stars, watching them twinkle above him, almost mockingly. It was as if the heavens held onto this great secret and he would never be able to access this information. Mindlessly gazing at the vast cosmos above him, this was when he felt the most at ease these days. He imagined that in this circumstance, she would be looking down on him from above, wherever she may be in the infinite universe.

This started to become a regular affair ever since he moved in. His heart was continually heavy and there was nothing he could do to make the pain stop. Reaching into his pocket, he held his phone in his hand, eyeing the device with a solemn expression.

Taking another deep breath, he pressed play and listened to the recording again. And again. And again.

Silent tears streamed down his face. He didn’t know how many times he had listened to her recording since she sacrificed herself, but it was never enough. After the fourth time tonight, he put his head in his hands as the sobs racked his body. It was like a ton of bricks that hit him every time he woke up, the realization that she would never be in his arms again.

When all the tears had finally dried up, Jake looked up at the sun breaking through the darkness as dawn came. Another sleepless night had come and gone, yet the world continued to awaken, not stopping for one man’s broken heart and soul.

Jake dragged a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes in the early morning light. It was almost a year and a day since their rescue from La Huerta. It was also almost a year and a day from their handfasting ceremony. He sighed dejectedly, pulling out the ribbon that drew their hands together for what was supposed to be forever.

The slim piece of finely woven cloth held so much promise that day, and even now, he swore he still could feel the binding wrapped around both their hands. If there was any possible way he could travel through time and space to find her, he would have undertaken the journey but he knew where she had gone, he could not follow.

Jake had been lost, until her. Always on the move, then always on the run – not knowing exactly what he was looking for. The weight of the world almost threatened to bury him but she had lifted the burden off of him and unknowingly placed it upon herself. With her, he had discovered his place in life and found what the definition of being home truly meant.

And now that she was gone?

He found that he was lost all over again.

FIN.

#jake mckenzie #jake x mc #endless summer fanfic #jake mckenzie fanfic #choices fanfiction #endless summer #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices fanfic #scg writes #long live the queue

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queenofthyme · 6 years

Text

November Third (part nine)

@o0o-chibaken-o0o more drarry your way comes (can you tell I’m running out of things to put here?)

bingo l part one l part two l part three l part four l part five l part six l part seven l part eight (a) l part eight (b) l part nine l updates to come..

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Draco was an idiot. He’d completely forgotten it was November third. He’d been thinking about the day all week. And all the day prior as well. But this morning, he’d gotten up and headed straight to his favourite coffee shop without thinking. He’d sat down at his usual spot by the door with his usual caramel macchiato (with extra foam), forgetting there was nothing usual about the day at all.

Because, barely a metre from where Draco sat, Harry Potter had just walked in the door.

He hadn’t seen Draco just yet, thank Merlin. Draco was a mess. He hadn’t even showered this morning! He always showered before leaving the house. Always. But today, on the one day when it fucking mattered, he’d left the house in a daze, just for a quick, lazy coffee. He’d run a comb through his hair at least, but still! He wasn’t even wearing a collared shirt for fuck’s sake. He looked positively pedestrian.

Potter walked past Draco without so much as a glance, heading straight for the counter near the back of the cafe. It gave Draco time to think. Potter would surely see him when he left if he was getting takeaway - or worse, if he were to dine in, he might end up at a table close to Draco, and then Draco would be forced to acknowledge him out of sheer politeness.

Draco ran a hand through his hair nervously. It had grown out a bit since school, and wasn’t slicked back like it usually was. Perhaps Potter wouldn’t recognise him. Perhaps if he just slouched and kept his head down, Potter wouldn’t notice him at all.

He took a large sip of his coffee and used the opportunity peek out over his cup to see where Potter had gotten to. He must have finished ordering, because he was hanging around the counter now, one hand tapping on the back wall of the cafe. Takeaway it was. Draco dropped his cup and turned away before Potter looked up.

Draco caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the window beside him. How could he have ever left the house like this? Even his eyes looked tired. It would be insulting if Potter recognised him today - Draco didn’t look like himself at all.

Draco played with his hair in the reflection, pulling it back so it was slick against his head and wishing he had gel or a hair tie on him to keep it in place. Even that would make all the difference and make him somewhat presentable. Then there was the open necked shirt. Clearly, that was a mistake. And there was no quick fix for it.

He caught movement in the glass and quickly dropped his hair, turning his face down to his table, but straining his eyes up to watch - it was Potter, coffee in hand, heading towards the entrance, eyes fixed ahead, not even acknowledging Draco in the slightest.

So this was their November third interaction this year; passing each other by in a coffee shop. What would happen next year? Would they just happen to be in the Ministry on the same day, on different floors, and never once see each other? And the year after that, would they simply be in the same country as each other and that was that? Would November third cease to be anything at all? Would Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy cease to be anything to each other at all?

Fuck.

“Potter!” Draco called out with Potter already halfway out the door. He was going to regret this.

Potter ducked his head back around the door immediately, smiling as soon as he saw Draco. “Malfoy! I can’t believe I didn’t see you there.”

“Well, you always were unobservant,” Draco said in what he hoped would be perceived as a chilly manner. He’d been the one who had to initiate conversation after all, since Potter had been all too happy to ignore him. It was only right that Potter put in the effort now.

“I guess I’m lucky you have a sharp eye then,” Potter said, painfully smooth. He took a step closer to Draco’s table, holding onto the back of the opposite chair.

Draco understood the implication clearly. There was no need for Potter to be quite so obvious. “By all means, Potter, sit if you must,” he said, making sure Potter knew it was less of an invite and more a resigned agreement.

Potter sat down without hesitation, not even attempting to play it cool. It was actually a little intimidating how little Potter seemed to have to control his actions. Draco could only aspire to reach that level of comfort in himself.

“Your hair’s long,” Potter pointed out with all the conversational skills of a seven year old. Draco was about to tell Potter exactly that when he added, “Just so you can’t call me unobservant again,” with a playful wink.

Shit. Potter had grown up. He was somehow more confident than he was in eighth year, back when he’d given Draco a - well, last November third. And Draco was only just now noticing the shadow of stubble around Potter’s chin - so light that it was as if he’d shaved the night before to allow time for the shadow to form before morning. Which seemed much too carefully planned and deliberate for someone like Potter.

Draco drew his eyes up from Potter’s jaw - had that widened as well? No, Draco was reading into things now. He hadn’t seen Potter in months. Not since the end of school. A lot had changed, but plenty hadn’t. The hair - that made Draco feel slightly better about his own - so untamed and unpredictable, never committing to a single part line, the smile, cheeky and knowing and above all, warm, and those eyes, just as piercing and still framed by those boyish round glasses.

“Malfoy?”

Draco snapped out of his stare. Oh fuck, he hoped Potter hadn’t noticed. “What?”

“You’re buzzing.”

It took a second for Draco to understand what Potter meant. A snarky “with what?” fell back down his throat when he recognised the sound. He shoved a hand down into his pocket and threw the awful muggle device on the table. It had been buzzing on and off, ever since he’d received it, with no discernible pattern and it was driving Draco up every single wall in his house.

Potter looked from the device to Draco with a questioning look. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Answer it? I haven’t been sent anything.”

Potter laughed, a short sound, like he was trying to hold back for Draco’s sake. “Malfoy, do you know what this is?”

Draco didn’t appreciate the implication. “Of course I know what it is.” He paused, taking a sip of his coffee to give himself time to remember the name they had told him in his course and - yes, that was it. “It’s a phone.”

“Okay,” Potter said slowly. “Do you know what it does? How it works?”

Draco took another sip of his coffee, hoping his stalling tactic wasn’t too obvious. He made sure he had the correct information before repeating the definition from memory. “It’s a popular muggle tool for communication via direct voice interaction and modern messaging features.”

The phone stopped buzzing.

Potter picked it up. “You have 18 missed calls from Pansy.”

Is that what the noise had been? “I don’t know why she doesn’t just floo call me,” Draco said. “It’s so much easier.”

“It’s really not,” Potter said with another laugh. Draco tried not to let how it affected him show in his face. Potter was playing with the buttons on the phone now, his eyes on the screen.

“Wait, what are you - “

Potter tossed the phone back to Draco and stood up with his coffee. “Call me when you work it out,” he said. And left.

“When I work what out?” Draco called after him, but he was already walking past Draco’s window, sipping his coffee with that traitorously cheeky smile that Draco hated with every fibre of his being. Because he loved it with every fibre of his being.

Why the fuck hadn’t Draco put on a collared shirt this morning?

Bingo progress under the cut...

@o0o-chibaken-o0o are you f***king kidding me right now? How are you guessing these so perfectly? You got both right!

Although, I feel like the figuring out muggle stuff is only halfway there since Draco technically still doesn’t know how to use that weird buzzing muggle device yet...so I am entering a new rule where I just half shade things too - just to keep you on your toes of course.

And then I suppose this isn’t an AU - but it is IN a coffee shop and they DRINK coffee so I’m going to claim it. I can’t just do a fantasy AU scene out of nowhere. I do have some integrity as a writer, or so I like to think.

There is no way you can guess right AGAIN. Then I would think you’ve been spying on my work before it’s finished. I don’t know how you’d do it but I wouldn’t put it past you...

Btw I need to be told i’m fancy again for these gifs (just ignore how the text moves around weirdly - it’s for EFFECT i swear....)

#drarry #o0o-chibaken-o0o #birthday #november3 #queenofthyme #silent eggs #it's early tonight because i decided so #enjoy the coffee

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