#if you need me i'll be watching these on loop until my brain turns to sludge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldkrone-struggle-tweets · 11 months

Note

If you haven't already, could you elaborate on Mythos being similar to Dios?

@acetaminophriends oh my friend

(warning for utena and princess tutu spoilers, some princess tutu ending negativity)

others have said a lot more on this topic, and really I don't have many new thoughts on it, exactly. but I am so extraordinarily Normal about it that I'll take any slight opportunity to talk about it again. SO BASICALLY. compare and contrast utena duel 34 with the opener to tutu episode 24. you have a couple of archetypal selfless princes, who love everyone and whom everyone loves...

...to the exclusion of all else.

they try to save everyone with no regard to their own health or happiness, because that's what you do as the prince archetype/christ allegory/male hero figure. unfortunately, though, that doesn't go too well if you're a real person trying to embody the archetype. both of them drive themselves to near death (for dios it's before anthy seals him, for mytho it's losing everyone he cares about and getting stuck fighting an endless battle) trying to embody this ideal and defeat the evils of the world. and they earn only the hatred/jealousy of the people in the process, because even with all that, dios and mytho still couldn't give them what they wanted! they still couldn't suffer and die for enough people, or couldn't love every person exclusively and suffer and die in a special way for each one of them. which is unreasonable, especially because every time, this is just some kid. literally a teenager. but even so, it's Oops! All Swords (until anthy sacrifices herself) or Oops! All Birds (until mytho sacrifices himself, because he has to be both the dios and the anthy in his own story arc, I guess. can't have shit in goldkrone).

and being used for the selfish ends of others for so long gives them a lot of built-up resentment and a bit of a warped perspective on love! dios obviously has his corruption arc into akio, becoming purely self-interested and seeking to regain the power of dios for the sake of power itself. obviously, that's not justified, but justifying the actions of a Fictional Character and an Allegory is really a futile pursuit. he serves the purpose of examining toxic masculinity and the prince archetype and how aspiring to that ideal can warp someone's mind, and other such things that have been said before by better posters than me, and that's Interesting to look at. and as a character, that's all you really need to be. mytho thinks that "people only love because they want to be loved", stemming from everyone wanting to monopolize his love and Just Get In A Romantic Relationship With Me Already (for more information, profile picture), only thinking of themselves and not really him at all. imo, that's really similar to how "[anthy] was the only one who truly loved [dios]." the show straight up did not let him be mad about it, though, even with the raven's blood, but that's a post for another time. but it sure does hint at that resentment and those feelings on the topic being there! princess tutu hints at a lot of interesting things, really. just doesn't do anything with them.

is it possible for people to be happy without the attention and love of this one figure? is it possible for them to live for themselves? nope! in fact, fuck you for even implying it, we are going to stab you to death with one million swords/turn into birds and try to peck out your heart. this is also why I think prinz und rabe is a time loop even though Rue Exists, because the people still haven't changed. and the last time someone claimed a prince for themselves alone...

...this happened.

anthy and dios are both really important and interesting characters to me. rose crest changed my brain chemistry when I first watched it. and it's so fucking disappointing how tutu took a dios who was still, ostensibly, a decent person. a dios who has a character and screentime and established relationships with others. a character that was poised to formulate a proper response to duel 34. and then said "k, go back to that same fate. it's what you're supposed to do." when we ALL KNOW WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME. BOTH IN THE STORY AND OUT OF IT. EUGH. this isn't to say that I think mytho is going to become akio, just... this isn't healthy, or good for him, even if it is what he originally was. they really could have let him move past the archetype, now that he's a fully realized human being and has been changed by his experiences outside the story (heron and schaf have made a lot of good meta on this topic). they could have looked at utena and the tragedy of the rose and said "okay, that was self-sacrifice and performance of gender roles to the bitter end. it didn't work. here's what you actually do about it," especially since princess tutu already portrays self-sacrifice negatively and is a show, supposedly, about defying fate and challenging established narratives. but they didn't, because as always, Show Hates Mytho. and I'll die mad about it. or write a fanfic, I don't know.

sorry, this was only a little me answering your question, I just have a lot of Feelings on this topic. tl;dr: the real villain of princess tutu and utena was society. who would have thought.

#princess tutu #meta #asks #utena #mytho #dios #pt negative-ish #also they both have extremely silly names #mytho = myth/mythos and dios = god. enough said there really.#this took a bit because anthy kept psychic blasting my phone every time I tried to take an utena screenshot #doesn't want me to diospost. I'm so sorry girl I'll make a post about you later I prommy #acetaminophriends #mysterious and transmutable #I FORGOT to update the tag on maybe my one good post

55 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 8 months

Text

your smile tells me I'm safe

4k, also on AO3, first part of my modern Russingon QPR AU on that tree I'll carve your name.

“I’m in love with you,” Fingon says one morning in September.

Maedhros is perched on the couch’s armrest, bent down, struggling to tie his laces. It’s something he can normally do easily, if slowly, his stump pressed against the loops as he forms them with his hand. But on some days, his shoulder protests the twist it requires, and he can’t quite get his forearm at the right angle. That’s why he has several pairs of boots that zip up instead, but today is the first staff meeting of the autumn semester, and he wants to wear his nice shoes.

He looks up at Fingon as the words sink in. His unbound hair makes a curtain in front of his eyes, and he can only see parts of him, the hand on his shoulder bag, the golden beads in his perfectly braided hair, his hesitant, expectant smile.

His face falls the longer Maedhros takes to answer. They’re running late for the meeting, and there’s a lead weight in Maedhros’s gut that pulls painfully as words fail to form on his lips. I’m in love with you too, the words are right there, but it’s like someone has sucked all the sound out of him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it,” Fingon says, too fast, too high-pitched, a garble of words Maedhros’s brain can barely decipher. “It’s the worst possible moment, but I’ve been waiting and there’s never a right one and you looked so lovely with your hair hanging like that and—”

He stops to draw a breath, shaky and panicked. Maedhros still feels strangled, but he gives up on his laces and shakes off the shoes to cross the room. He cups Fingon’s chin to make him look up.

“It’s okay, I just.” He stops there, abruptly, with no idea what to say. “Need time,” he finishes after a moment, but the pause hangs between them like a condemnation.

Fingon gives him a brave smile. “Okay,” he says. “Take all the time you need.”

But his posture is tight like he already knows how it’s going to go. He expects Maedhros to turn him down – of course he does. To push him away again, this time for good. He expects Maedhros to ask him to move out, or to pine until they drift apart because of the awkwardness.

Maedhros wants to reassure him, but the only things that come to mind are platitudes – it doesn’t change anything, whatever happens we will stay friends – and they will sound far too much like no, I don’t love you back. And if he knows one thing, it’s that it isn’t true.

So he goes to get his zip boots from his closet and they walk out of the flat in silence. Fingon won’t meet his eyes, and he’s careful not to touch him at any point as they board the metro together.

They make it to the meeting on time, somehow, and they sit together through three powerpoint presentations and an hour of arguing because they always do, and Maedhros doesn’t absorb a single thing that has been said.

I’m in love with you.

The words run on loop inside his head, leaving no room for anything else.

It’s not a surprise, not really. Fingon had a crush on him even back before the accident, according to Káno. They’ve grown very close since reconnecting, and his brothers have teased him about it more than once. Looking back, the signs are there. Maedhros should have seen it coming.

And he does love Fingon back, doesn’t he?

Once home, after another awkward metro ride, he lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling, the question running in his mind.

The reality of it is that he doesn’t know. He loves Fingon as a friend, as his best friend, there’s no doubt about that. He loves hanging out with him, watching movies on the couch together and working side by side on their laptops. He loves how they laugh together about the most ridiculous things, how Fingon beams at him whenever they cross paths at uni even though they’ve already seen each other in the morning.

He wants to be there to comfort him when he has a bad day. He wants Fingon to be there for him when he has a bad day. He wants to celebrate their victories together, and commiserate on the small annoyances, and hug each other through the hard times.

He can barely imagine his life without Fingon in it. He doesn’t want a life without Fingon in it.

Is that being in love?

And if it is, then why couldn’t he say it back?

He tries to say it out loud, alone in his bedroom. I’m in love with you. The words still won’t make it past his lips.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he gets up again and goes to cook dinner.

The next day, Maedhros’s shoulder hurts enough that he is forced to use his sling. It means that Fingon doesn’t push, doesn’t ask him anything more. He is as he always is on those days – worried and considerate, and there’s almost no awkwardness. He smoothly anticipates Maedhros’s needs, and if there is a slightly different quality to his posture when they spend the evening on the couch, Maedhros’s head on his lap, well, Maedhros is in too much pain to notice.

It lasts almost three days, leaving Maedhros exhausted for another two. There is no energy to spare for feeling guilty, though Fingon’s words are still in his mind. Fingon grows stiffer with him – not purposefully, but he stares at Maedhros’s back at lot, and he’s quick to look away when Maedhros turns around. Several times, for no discernable reason, he stands up and walks out of the living room, going to work in his bedroom instead.

It’s Sunday by the time Maedhros feels well enough to get out of the flat for any length of time. Feeling cooped up, he goes for a walk, but the sky starts pouring when he’s only made it around the corner. By the time he makes it back home, he’s drenched.

Fingon looks up from where he’s typing on his laptop on the couch. Seeing Maedhros dripping on the welcome mat like a wet dog, he starts laughing.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“That’s right, make fun of my misery,” Maedhros rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling.

He runs his hand through his dripping hair to get it out of his face, and Fingon’s smile slowly wanes, a thoughtful, sad look taking its place. This has happened too many times in the last week. Fingon hasn’t brought it up again, but it’s obvious that he’s thinking about it.

Maedhros steels himself as he dries his hair with a towel in the bathroom and changes. While he’s not Fingon, who tends to run head-first into danger, he’s never been one to avoid the things that scare him. He can do this. Fingon deserves an explanation, at the very least.

“What you said the other day,” he starts as soon as he comes out of the bathroom. “Are you certain?”

Fingon startles, looks at him, closes his laptop and takes a breath. “Of course. But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same.”

He doesn’t sound as if anything about this is okay, but he’s trying. He’s just never been a good liar. His hands are restless, pulling on one of his braids compulsively.

Maedhros sighs and sits down in the armchair across from the couch. “I can’t be with you in that way.”

He’s half-proud of the way his voice didn’t waver, but Fingon looks gutted, and all of his pride immediately fades away.

“May I—” Fingon says, working his jaw and looking anywhere but at him. “May I ask why?”

Maedhros thinks of all the excuses he’s constructed in his head. That relationships between roommates often end in disaster. That they’re basically cousins, and their fathers hate each other, and it would be terrible for the family unity. That Fingon is already taking care of him far too often as it is, that Maedhros and his chronic pain and his missing hand and his depression would make a terrible partner. They are all true.

They’re also just excuses.

“Because,” he says. He pushes his still-damp hair out of his face. “Because you’re lovely, and kind, and brave, and beautiful, and everything I could ever want, and I love you, but… I can’t give you what you want.”

Fingon frowns, now biting on his nails. “I don’t want anything except for you.”

“No, I can’t—I can’t be the person you deserve.”

“I don’t understand.”

Maedhros sighs. There they are. He takes a deep breath, looking at his lap.

“You deserve someone who can love you back, fully, who can be with you in every way, and I don’t—I don’t have it in me. I just don’t… It’s not there. Something in me is broken. I don’t know if it’s the depression, or the trauma, or if I was born this way, but I can’t give you that, and you deserve better than someone who can’t love you properly.” He swallows a sob on the last word. “I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Fingon stares, and doesn’t say anything. Maedhros can’t tell if he’s shocked, or disgusted, or simply waiting for him to pull himself back together. He buries his face in his hands.

He works on the breathing exercises he learned in therapy for a minute, in silence. When he feels calm enough to look up, Fingon is still staring at him, his head slightly tilted, as if trying to solve a mystery.

“Maedhros,” he says slowly. “Are you aromantic?”

Maedhros blinks. His brain halts to a stop.

Is he?

“I—” He gestures helplessly. “I don’t know?”

“It means you don’t experience romantic attraction to people,” Fingon explains helpfully, but Maedhros already knows that.

It never seemed like a very useful description to him. What does it even mean? Is he supposed to get butterflies in his stomach? That’s just an overly dramatic metaphor from teenage romance novels, surely adult relationships are about something else…

Right?

“Ah,” he says, because he can’t think about anything else.

“It would be okay,” Fingon says, still trying to be helpful. “If you are.”

Maedhros thinks about that, and he definitely can’t dig into it deeper without getting overwhelmed. He puts his head in his hands again. Breathes.

“Maedhros.”

He looks up. Fingon has stood up from the couch, and he looks like he wants to come closer, but he doesn’t. He starts pacing instead, in a tiny line down the length of the couch, four steps forward and a turn. Then he sits down again.

“What I’m hearing,” he says, enunciating carefully, “is that you’re perhaps not attracted to me romantically, but you think you could have been if you were wired that way. Which suggests that you are perhaps attracted to me in other ways?”

Maedhros feels himself blush. “Um, not… not—”

“Sexually? No, I already know you’re ace, I’m not expecting you to— Wait,” he stops himself when Maedhros’s eyes bulge out. “Are you not ace?”

“I—”

Fingon grimaces. “I assumed because of how you’re always avoiding the subject, but I should have asked, sorry.”

“No, I… I don’t—”

Maedhros searches for words for an awkward moment before Fingon finally catches on. “Valar, you don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I know what ace is,” Maedhros says. “I just. Don’t know what I am.”

Fingon bursts out laughing. Maedhros watches him uncomprehendingly, still reeling from the new thoughts hammering in his brain.

“I’m sorry, this is totally inappropriate,” Fingon says, wiping his eyes. “I just… Only you. You’re proudly out as queer, you go to pride, you’ve known that you’re nonbinary for – how long?”

Maedhros hesitates. That is, somehow, something they’ve never really talked about. Fingon took it in stride when Maedhros came out to him, but they never really dug into the subject. “When—when you came out, and Ñolo wasn’t… great about it, I started researching, you know, studies and articles about gender, so I could make sure I was informed and maybe send them to him.”

He feels his cheeks heat up. Fingon’s amused grin turns into a beaming smile, lighting up his face. “For me?”

“Of course. It took me a couple years to really start questioning it for myself, and by then…”

“We weren’t speaking any more.”

“Yeah.”

He opens his mouth to apologize, for the hundredth time, but Fingon holds up a hand. “And in all that time, all that research, you never heard about aromanticism?”

“No, I did. I know what it is, I just…”

I just didn’t think it could be me. I just thought I was broken. He doesn’t say it out loud.

He’s not convinced that it isn’t the truth of it. That there are the real aromantics, the ones who are perfectly valid in their (lack of) orientation, and there’s him, the imposter. It took him years and dozens of hours of therapy to accept his gender – he still slides back on the regular, feeling like he’s claiming a label that he has no right to. This – this is too much.

“Whatever I am, whatever – it doesn’t matter,” he says. “It doesn’t change anything for you.”

Fingon worries at his lower lip. “Putting words on it helps. And it means…” he hesitates. “It means it’s not me you can’t love.”

He’s fiddled with the bead at the end of one of his braids so much that it’s coming apart. Maedhros sighs. “It’s not you,” he confirms. “If I could want someone, anyone… It would be you.”

He wonders, suddenly, if Fingon will want to keep his distance now, if trying to get over him (how do you get over love?) will mean staying away. The thought slithers inside his throat and swells until he can barely breathe.

The idea of losing Fingon…

Fingon is following his own train of thoughts, and giving him a sad smile. “I’m glad to know that,” he says softly.

“Is this— Does this mean—” Maedhros can’t even ask. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling hard at the ends.

“I don’t know,” Fingon says. “It depends on what it means for you, I suppose.”

Maedhros frowns. “How?”

“If you can’t feel attraction to me, does it mean that you also don’t want a relationship? It doesn’t have to be romantic, or sexual.”

“What else is there? You’re already my best friend, unless you don’t want to—”

“No!” Fingon almost shouts. Maedhros blinks at him, surprised. “Not that, I’ll always be your friend if that’s what you want,” he says more softly, but no less forcefully.

“Oh,” Maedhros murmurs, only now noticing how fast his heart is beating. That eases some of his dread. “Good. Because I don’t want to lose you.”

“Me neither. Never.”

Fingon looks close to tears. Maedhros wants to hug him. He makes an aborted gesture toward him with his stump, to check if it would be welcome, and Fingon opens his arms.

Gratefully, Maedhros switches from his armchair – which suddenly feels too far away – to the couch beside Fingon. Fingon scoots over so that Maedhros can be on his right, and slide his left arm across his back. He’s careful of Maedhros’s shoulder when he returns the hug, nuzzling Maedhros’s neck.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he murmurs. “No matter what.”

Then he raises his head again. “Some aro people have queer-platonic relationships. I think. I’m not exactly knowledgeable, but we could research. Is that something you’d want?”

Maedhros gives himself a minute to think about it properly, running his fingers up and down Fingon’s arm. He tries to push away the intrusive thoughts – you’re just broken, you’ll never be good enough for him, he’s generous enough to give you the benefit of the doubt – and actually considers the question.

“I don’t know,” he says.

The thing is – the thing is, he doesn’t think he would want any kind of relationship, aside from friendship, with anyone else than Fingon. So what does that make him?

And Fingon… Fingon is normal, and beautiful and smart and kind, and he could have anyone he wanted. He shouldn’t have to settle for someone like Maedhros.

“Fingon,” he says slowly, prompting him to meet his eyes. “I love you, and I want you in my life more than anything, but you still deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you for real.”

“Oh, Mae.” Fingon reaches up to push his hair back behind his ears. “It doesn’t make your love any less real.”

“But I can’t love you the way you love me.”

Fingon shrugs. “I don’t care. I just want you. From where I’m standing, this just means that we get to define our relationship in whatever way we want. We can just throw other people’s expectations out of the window. I don’t need romance. I don’t need sex. We can figure out what we like together.”

“So if we just continue as we have, you’d be satisfied?”

He smiles. “Without being afraid that you’ll bolt if you find out my feelings? Without feeling like I’m lying every time I look at you? Yes. I don’t need more than that. I just want to be with you.”

“With me,” Maedhros repeats, trying to taste what that would feel like.

Fingon turns to lean against his chest, propping his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “So, can we try? We can research QPRs and see how other people do it. And if nothing fits, we can just make it up.”

“I— Okay,” Maedhros whispers. “We can try.”

It feels easier, perhaps, to say it to the top of Fingon’s head, rather than to his face. He’d do anything for Fingon, but he can’t give him what just isn’t there. How long until Fingon gets bored or frustrating and realizes what he’s missing? How long until Maedhros’s lack comes between them?

But Fingon looks so relieved, relaxed in Maedhros’s arms, and they’ve been cuddling like this on the couch for months. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. They can figure this out as they go along, and if one day it’s no longer enough, then – they’ll cross that bridge when they get there.

So for now – for now, maybe.

“Shit!”

Maedhros looks up from his sketchbook, alarmed. He twists around to check on Fingon, who is standing in front of the sink, peeling tomatoes.

“What did you do this time?” he asks nonchalantly, when he’s determined that nothing majorly dangerous has happened.

“Nicked my finger. It’s fine, it’s just a small cut.” Fingon turns on the tap and holds his hand under the water.

“No need for stitches?”

“No, just a band-aid, maybe.”

Maedhros nods, even though Fingon has his back turned to him, and he puts down his pencil to go get band-aids and antiseptic from the bathroom cabinet.

“Give me your hand,” he says, hooking his foot around the rolling stool they keep in the kitchen area to pull it closer. He sits down and Fingon holds out his now dripping hand. Thankfully, it is only dripping water and not blood, and the cut is objectively very small. Barely enough to justify a band-aid at all, if not for the fact that Fingon will never leave it alone and keep re-opening it if it’s not protected.

Maedhros struggles a little with the box, which is not made to be opened one-handed, and takes out one of the child superhero-themed band-aids. He got them for Fingon as a joke, because he goes through boxes of bandages seemingly like candy, but Fingon unironically loves them. They already adorn several of his fingers like so many rings, little explosions of colour against his dark skin.

Maedhros slaps the newest one on his index finger and jokingly bends to kiss it better – but he lingers, just a little. Fingon doesn’t take his hand back. It lasts no more than an extra second or two, but it’s enough for Maedhros’s brain to start spinning.

Very little has changed between them since their talk. Some of the awkwardness of the last weeks has faded, and new embarrassment arises in entirely different places, but it’s all very subtle. They’ve hung out just as much as they usually do, and Fingon truly seems content with what they have.

Maedhros is still cataloguing moments. Trying to sort what counts as romantic, and what is just friendship. What the distinction even means to him. Kissing Fingon’s finger – is it a joke, or a moment of tenderness? Can it be both? Is it an issue if it’s both?

“You’re overthinking again,” Fingon says lightly.

“Ugh,” Maedhros mutters, standing up and leaning forward to gently headbutt Fingon on the way.

“Whatever feels right,” Fingon reminds him. “It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

“What if what feels right to me isn’t what feels right to you?”

Fingon shrugs. “If it feels wrong to either of us, we don’t do it. You just have to be honest about it.”

They’ve looked up queer-platonic relationships together, but there seems to be as many ways to be in one as there are people who are. The only requirement is, well, declaring it a relationship.

If Fingon is truly serious about this, about not wanting to seek someone who can actually love him properly, then Maedhros wants to give him at least that. Commitment.

It shouldn’t be difficult. Tyelko often jokes that Maedhros is more loyal than a dog (but then, Tyelko loves dogs more than people). He has, always, given a hundred percent of himself to those important in his life – more than was healthy, sometimes. He loves Fingon, and there is no doubt in his mind that he wants that to continue.

But he’s abandoned Fingon once. Not out of any desire to hurt him – on the contrary – but that’s how Fingon experienced it, and it stands between them even now. He pushed Fingon away, and they didn’t see each other again for almost a decade. They went through the worst times of their lives separately, because of Maedhros’s misguided desire to protect him.

Maedhros takes a breath and catches Fingon’s arm before he can turn away.

“I want a queer-platonic relationship with you,” he says – just a touch too fast, but going by the sudden glow of Fingon’s eyes, it’s still understandable.

Fingon has already made his desires clear. He’s been patiently waiting for Maedhros to express himself, never pushing.

“I don’t know what it will look like exactly,” Maedhros warns, like an apology. “I just know I want to be with you.”

Fingon beams. “I will never push you to do something you don’t want,” he promises. “We can explore. Take it slow. Not do anything different at all, if that’s what you like.”

“I—would like to hug you,” Maedhros says.

And it’s not something new, they’re both tactile with each other, but they’ve never hugged as partners before. Or whatever words they’ll end up using.

Fingon makes a noise of excitement and launches himself at Maedhros, catching himself with his arms around his neck. Maedhros would have toppled over, had he been even a little shorter or lighter. As it is, he hurriedly stabilizes himself with a hand on the counter and returns the hug, squeezing Fingon tightly against his chest.

“I love you,” Fingon says. “Is that okay to say?”

“You already said it before,” Maedhros points out.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Maedhros squeezes him a little tighter, until Fingon squeaks in protest. They both laugh, Fingon’s head still buried in Maedhros’s shoulder.

“I love you too,” Maedhros says quietly, and it doesn’t feel romantic, or wrong, or anything but the most genuine truth. He loves Fingon. Fingon loves him.

If this is to be them, this openness and communication and mutual respect, then – then he thinks he can get used to it.

reblogs and comments make my day!

#silmarillion #silm fic #the silmarillion #maedhros #fingon #silm modern au #tolkien #russingon #tolkien fic #russingon qpr #echo's fanfiction #on that tree i'll carve your name

35 notes · View notes

importantkidspyfarm · 2 years

Text

The Next 365 Days (2022)

This series has been a rollercoaster. And this final installment has been a series of those slanting turns that feel like they will turn into loops but never do. That said I will miss this.

This is no real order. Just my brain processing what I'm watching.

Spoilers. Duh!

Massimo be threatening anybody.

So how long do you stay after the decree is handed down? Until either party can't handle the awkwardness?

Massimo won't bang her because she got shot, but had no problem banging her for hours when she had a heart condition.

Plot, actual plot!

Not shoes on the bed. oh no no no no!

Laura is dedicated to these Fiacchi drawers.

Shower in the same space as the master suite seems sexy, until Aunt Irma comes to visit and you've got a clot coming out.

What's the NDA like for house staff?

Be quiet? Sir they were behind a thin curtin in a metal tube, 20,000 feet in the air, listening to you get a very aggressive blow job from a random flight attendant. Trust and believe sex with your wife is the most normal thing they could hear.

Also there is an employee orgy in this movie.

I love the intimacy of Laura and Olga's friendship.

Once again, every pair of sunglasses is fire.

The music is better.

The Torricelli's are in the business of Drugs, clubs(dance, strip, & both), restaurants, gambling, blackmail, and wine. Diversify.

Labels restaurant bad, proceeds to show delicious looking food, attentive service and nice atmosphere.

No Domenico sexiness? Really no Domenico. Instead we get a bunch more Tommy. Who the fuck even is that? It's bull shit.

We should've seen Laura and Massimo dance together.

We never see them happy and domestic together.

That whispered "My fault". Whew.

Him carrying her to bed. Aww.

Smart houses. Bad idea. When the wifi goes out the house is done for.

Him in them low sitting black track pants go straight the vagina every time.

Mass: Leave.

Laura: Stay.

Me as the stripper:

Should've done a handy at the club. Also the song is good.

Not her happy and smiling in the Nacho fantasy. Uh oh.

Wake up head. The best.

No marmalade for you.

Who is Giuseppe and how is he still alive if he keeps fucking up?

Massimo in the shower. Give me more.

He tossed that band and them glasses down like a toddler.

What man thought having business meeting in strip clubs was cool? He needs to be on a list. That's weirdo behavior.

Someone get Olga a brush. Three movies and not once have they combed her hair.

They really said let's make Laura and her new business partner look exactly alike. I was so confused.

So much Domenico and Olga wedding planning only to see no wedding.

This was very light on the ho antics.

Why is Domenico not the guy at the tennis court. Tommy is a little too fresh with Massimo for me.

Since when did Olga start calling her Lari? 2 whole movies not once all of a sudden she never says Laura. Same for Olo.

Not this heffa shoulder checking my man. He has the right to be upset. He didn't cheat on you and you ran off with another man.

What the fuck is this coked up sex orgy? Are you all not coworkers. What's Monday like? *avoiding eyes because you're sure watching your colleague get his ass are made your dick just a little harder*

Blowhole tits gimp.

Tommy left so quick. He said, "I have a wife and a new born at home. Y'all be easy."

I love Massimo resisting temptation as he has flashbacks to the night at the club with Laura.

I'll hide you with my body. Proceeds to scream and draw attention to self.

Olga is not they type of friend you take everywhere.

I thought the designer was banging Nacho.

He was cute.

Why is Olga getting the fashion expo invitation. Why not the designer and why is she not going? What is Laura's position here?

The designer hates Laura. Why did she sell a portion of the business if she wasn't interested? Was it blackmail? Was she desperate for the money?

I'm genuinely upset that she cheated. On the verge of tears. I need to go touch grass

Thought that was Laura and Mass having make up sex. Very disappointed it was not.

The state of this hotel room. Clean it up.

Marcello! I thought his name was Ignacio hence Nacho. Maybe it's his middle name.

That's not his sister! They were necking.

I thought Domenico was going to show up with a sexy surprise for Olga. At least catch her flirting with other guys and fuck it out of her.

Three indecipherable accents. Polish, Italian, and Spanish.

Dream Nacho be putting it down.

That white dress was so boring.

The fashion show clothes were good.

Weren't they in Lagos for a business meeting?

Shadow of a man. He spent two weeks with her.

Finds out "brother" kidnapped and plotted to kill woman. Not speaking for a week is punishment enough.

Nacho keep him a job. Gardener, now cabbie.

Pacing! The lack of it is irritating.

They made Olga very annoying this movie.

Since when was Laura a motorcycle chick.

Her parents house is nice.

I'm not the only one who thought she was going to get in the fountain at Nachos house, right?

Real Nacho put it down.

This beach scene is giving the boat scene a run for its money.

"I'm not like him, I won't force you to do something". You got him there Nacho. Get your girl.

Did Mass see them fucking at the beach?

Ooh, mad Mass is kinda hot.

How is she mad at him? Not only did he not cheat on you, he also found out you were pregnant and lost the baby. Then finds out you're falling in love with someone else and he killed his twin brother. He is going through a lot. And still not once has she asked him how he's doing.

For a mafia dons wife she loves having him not know where she is. Idk about you but after two kidnappings and two murder attempts I'd want my husband to be able to find me.

That hotel stationery was nice.

Her crying after he leaves is a really good moment.

Where is the heart problem!?!?

Nacho describing how he fell in love with her. I'm crying.

Nacho risking all out war for this broad just to get that heart broke. Suck his dick from the back.

Why can't she have both? Let this woman live!

If you think your friends husband is going to kill her why are you letting her go back to the house?

Nacho is finna drive them off a cliff!

Not him getting out the cab. Oh he messy

I need Nacho to have a love interest outside of Laura and his sister.

Have the mom make pierogi. A callback.

They really cut the brat x daddy kink out after the first one. Which is weird because that’s what draws people to the series. Sure it’s not my thing (Laura get out the fountain, you’re an adult) but I’ll risk the kink occasionally. And sneaking out to go to dinners doesn’t count .

Mom is right, women should be a little selfish in relationships.

Are they about to kiss? OMG OMG OMG! Laura, you selfish bitch! Go back to sleep.

I for sure thought she was about to get kidnapped at lunch with her dad. By the nosy nuns.

Is Laura famous in Poland? Them nuns was staring hard. I know that one was Blanka.

Did Laura tell her parents the whole story or did she leave out both kidnappings? And the murders.

I know that's not how this ends. Where is their final sex scene?

I know the credits not about to roll.

Not with a bang but with an, "Are you back, Baby Girl?".

Massimo and Laura only have sex twice! And one fake out. That's bull shit. I didn't need to see the nameless designer bang fake Nacho.

When does that English translation of the third book come out because, baby, I need these plot holes filled.

I'm going to miss this series so much. Thank the gods for rewatching.

#the next 365 days #365 days movie #michele morrone #anna maria sieklucka #blanka lipińska #mafia romance #romance movies #daddy x brat #brat x daddy #massimo x laura #don massimo torricelli #massimo torricelli #nacho matos #laura x nacho #nacho x laura #netflix #simone susinna

77 notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 2 years

Text

4 - Wolf becomes Lion

Part 5

The Lion's Bride

I decided to split the wedding chapter up into two parts 😊

Jaime's POV

My sister rests her hands on my bare chest wearing her nightgown as I slowly put my clothes back on looking out the window trying to rattle my brain around that I'll be a married man after tonight. She lays her head on my arm whispering out. "If she doesn't please you. I'm always here for you, my brother." Turning to face her I stare at her down pulling out of her arms heading for the door. "I'll keep that in mind. But father will want us back at the Rock." Cersei scoffed flipping her golden locks over her shoulders. "You joined the guard to be with me. Father, doesn't understand that if you truly love someone you'll do anything to get back to them." Turning my back to her I leave the room needing to prepare for the time that Juliet will become mine. I just hope she's not disappointed in marrying someone like me.

Juliet's POV

My handmaidens finished tying the laces on the back of my wedding dress. It's Grey with some white jewels embedded about. It is short sleeves that are almost see through. A train goes down past my feet. The door opened having Sansa and our mother enter. The handmaidens bowed exciting without a word smilies on their faces. "Oh sister you look so beautiful." Sansa grinned revealing a handmade flower crown. With Grey string wrapped around the flowers to represent our house of the Wolf. She softly placed it on my head as mother started braiding some of my hair up into a crown, letting the rest of my curls fall loose. "Juliet, I must warn you of what shall take place...." She trailed off finishing the braid having me admire her work in the mirror with a smile.

"It is tradition that you and your husband share the bed tonight. Your father didn't allow others to touch me on ours. So I most likely believe that your father shall forbide such things taking place with my young girl." I simply nodded playing with my dress feeling a little nervous. I've never even kissed a man before. How in the seven kingdoms am I supposed to lose my virginity. "Will it hurt...what should I do if he tries to force me?" I spin around in my chair clutching the wooden frame eyeing my mother. Sansa just stood by the window watching me. She hasn't even bleed yet so she wasn't aware of the things mother and I speak of now.

Mother tucks a loose part of my hair behind my ear before a knock was heard that Sansa answered opening the door. Getting to my feet I gazed at my twin brother who's mouth hangs open eyeing me in a dress. "Seven hells, my little sister is growing up." Were the first words out of his mouth that makes our mother glare at him. Crossing my arms over my chest I shake my head trying to look around him for father which he noticed. "He's waiting downstairs. I'm here to escort you to him, little sister." I smiled as he loops his arm through mine. For most of the walk the halls are filled with silence until my twin spoke up. "Remember little sister. No matter what he tells you. You are and always will be a Stark of Winterfell." Glancing up into his eyes I simply nodded muttering in unison beside him. "Winter is Coming."

Robb squeezes my hand in his once we reach father but before he left to take his seat he whispered in my ear. "Another to remember, little sister. If he ever hurts you. I'll hurt him no matter you're carrying a different name or not." Throwing my arms around his neck he wrapped his around my waist. Burying his face in my hair until we break away seeing father holding out an open hand for me. He intertwined out hands together slowly walking me outside to the family tree of the Godswoods. Everyone is lined up with a Septon and Jaime standing at the very end. "My baby Juli, you shall always be a wolf. Now that you'll always be welcome here and have a home. I love you." Father spoke just before we reached the pair. He places my hand in Jaime's and I mumbled back to him. "I love you too, father."

Jaime gently squeezes my hand in his while he eyes me up and down in my dress where I hope he isn't upset with the wife I will be to him. I cannot help letting my eyes wander over him as well. His blonde hair is neet unlike the knotted mess it became when we sword fight. He's wearing a leather jacket colored red holding the red and yellow Lannister Lion cloak on his other arm. His green eyes finally meeting mine but I feel someone glaring skulls in the back of my head for some reason. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon breaks the silence between Jaime and I. Jaime slowly walked behind me softly laying the Lannister one over my Stark direwolf one. He comes back around laying his right hand over my left watching the ribbon get tidied around our hands before the Septon began the ceremony.

"Jaime of House Lannister and Juliet Flower of House Stark are here to Wed. In the sight of the seven I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each and say the words." Turning my head Jaime glanced down at me slowly speaking the vows. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crown, Stranger." My eyes stay trained on his green orbs resighting the vows back to him. "I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days." Jaime lightly smiled squeezing my hand that has the ribbon around it. "I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days." The Septon untied the ribbon allowing us to turn and face each other. Jaime raises his hands to my face, brushing his thumbs over my cheeks before leaning down pressing his lips to mine. I gasped freezing up unsure of what to do and he can sense it because he slowly kissed me. I reluctantly kissed him back where my hands rested on his chest until we break the kiss. Something that makes my confidence return is the smirk on his lips that I copy when he perks my lips quickly smiling.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#the lion's bride #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x reader fanfiction #nikolaj coster waldau #robb stark #richard madden #tyrion lannister #peter dinklage #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated #jaime lannister x stark reader

54 notes · View notes

missgryffin · 3 years

Note

hi i absolutely love your work and was wondering if you knew of or could write something along the lines of “you didn’t think he’d wait forever did you?”

Confession: I started this prompt ages ago and could not get it to come together—until today, when @efkgirldetective posted Prompt #10 of her Summer of Jily, and my brain exploded with how to finish this. So yes, this one-shot is a slightly evil, angsty twist on what was no doubt meant to be a fluffy, lovey prompt 😂 Rated T to M? (I'm bad at these.)

Without further ado, a mashup of "You didn't think he'd wait forever, did you?" + 🌻 + "you're the only thing I'll wait around for." (I promise it ends happy 😘)

Below and on AO3.

Waiting

October air nips my cheeks, chills my bones, as I stroll down the High Street arm-in-arm with Mary.

“I definitely need to restock on sugar quills,” she adds to her growing list.

“Agreed.” They’ve become my bad habit to get me through long Arithmancy lectures, but it’s not like I’m planning on stopping anytime soon. “And maybe Tomes and Scrolls?” I add. “Dory’s birthday is coming up, we could look for a gift while she’s on her date.”

Mary lights up beside me. “Oh, that’s a good idea! Wait, hold on, let’s peek inside Madame Puddifut’s. She left before us, remember?”

I acquiesce as Mary tugs me in a half-skip toward the teashop’s window, wide and foggy around the edges.

Hogsmeade might as well have turned into the Arctic for the way my body freezes just then.

“Ooooh!” Mary squeals, “There they are, look! Merlin, she’s smitten—”

But I don’t see Dorcas; I can’t. Now that my eyes have latched on, they won’t move anywhere else, no matter how badly my roiling, sinking stomach wants them to.

“Lily? What’s wro—”

I know by how she cuts off that she’s seen it, too: James Potter, leaning forward on his elbows over one of those small, doily-laden tables and locking lips with Amelia Bones. I’ve been watching them a few seconds longer than Mary, so I’ve seen the way they’ve been snogging, slow and testing, like it’s their first kiss. They break apart, faces still close, and smile at each other. Amelia looks like she’s giggling, and James is—

I gulp. James has a grin that I’ve always rolled my eyes at outwardly but that has inwardly been melting me into a puddle for the better part of six months. And right now, it’s aimed at Amelia.

“Oh, Lil—”

Tears prick my eyes. Somehow, hearing the pity in Mary’s voice is even worse than the ache of seeing James with someone else.

“It’s nothing,” I sniff, turning back to the High Street and taking off with a brisk walk. Mary jogs to catch up, loops an arm back through mine.

“Lily—”

“Stop.” My voice comes out sharp, and I swallow thickly, try to walk it back. “I don’t want to—let’s just forget it, okay?”

“Okay,” Mary agrees softly, but the way she squeezes my arm tells me she’s not fooled.

I steer us to The Three Broomsticks, sugar quills and birthday gift forgotten in my sudden need for a drink and the type of distraction that can only come from the loud raucous of the pub.

The bar is packed, but I push my way through the throng, Mary veering off to find a table. Before I can order, a shot of Firewhiskey slides in front of me.

“Evans.”

I follow the arm pushing the shot glass up to a haughtily handsome face framed with thick dark hair escaping from its low bun. “Black,” I acknowledge. “What’s this?”

“Ordered too many,” he replies casually, “and you look like you could use something strong right now.”

I chuckle darkly and mutter, “Got that right,” before I take the shot. It burns my throat, and I grimace at the aftertaste.

Sirius is laughing softly. “Ahh, if only Jamesie were here, he won’t believe me when I tell him the Head Girl was slamming shots with me.”

“Well, he’s a little busy sucking face at the moment.”

Shit. I hadn’t exactly meant to say that. My eyes snap up to Sirius, staring down at me with arched brows. I need to backpedal. “I mean—”

“Don’t tell me that bothers you.”

I can still taste the Firewhiskey in the middle of my chest. “Of course not,” I lie.

Gray eyes narrow in scrutiny. “You blush when you lie, you know.”

All I can do is glare at him and pluck another shot from the tray in front of him. “I blush when I drink, too.”

His smirk tells me he’s not buying it. “And you slam shots when you’re jealous, huh?”

My hand freezes just as the shot glass touches my lips, and panic slithers in my stomach. He has me good and trapped, and he bloody knows it.

Sirius leans forward on his elbows and lifts his own shot lazily, raising it toward me like he wants to clink glasses. “Your secret’s safe with me, Evans—”

My throat feels stuck.

“—but c’mon. You didn’t think he’d wait forever, did you?”

The words go straight to my gut and twist like a knife, releasing something even uglier in the process: shame. Because if I’m being brutally honest with myself, the answer to Sirius’s question is yes. I did.

===

“Up you go, Potter. You’ve got, like, three steps, c’mon.”

Curse Godric Gryffindor and his fucking spiral staircases; haven’t wizards heard of these Muggle contraptions called escalators? Hang on—why hasn’t anyone charmed these staircases to move like the one to Dumbledore’s office? I’ll have to look into that.

James grunts with the effort of pressing up through the step, and his weight drifts heavily onto my shoulders.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath. Tomorrow. Figuring out how to charm this bloody staircase will have to wait until tomorrow, when I don’t have a wasted James Potter draped over myself. Except, I realize with a sigh, I won’t actually be figuring it out tomorrow, because we’ll all be on the train home for the summer.

We reach the landing and I turn the doorknob to his dormitory, my nose wrinkling at the instant smell reminiscent of sweaty clothes and dirty socks. Fucking boys. James sways again, and I tighten my grip on his waist as I herd him through the doorway, chiding, “Still awake up there?”

“Mmph.”

Well, at least he’s conscious.

“Remind me to never again be sober enough to care about helping you make it up the stairs in one piece.”

A snorting giggle emits from somewhere above me as his arm tightens where it’s looped around my neck, and I fight the wave of butterflies that threaten to burst from my skin. He’s deliciously warm, and his heaviness—draped around my shoulders, leaning into my side—just feels so good.

But he’s drunk, I remind myself. Drunk off his rocker, and besides: this is Potter. The annoying bane of my existence (who is actually rather clever) whom I do not fancy (even though he has become rather fit) and who I’m only helping because, despite my readiness to leave him passed out downstairs with the other drunken souls of this Tower, he began in his intoxicated state to determinedly try to climb the stairs himself. I’m only doing this because I’m nice, I rationalize. And also a Prefect. It’s not like I could just stand by and let him crack his head open.

We stumble toward his bed, where he flops down unceremoniously, and being horizontal must activate his vocal cords, because he slurs, “Evansstay.”

Something like lightening shoots up my spine.

Drunk, I tell myself again, more strongly this time. He’s just drunk.

He’s trying to kick off his shoes, and I sit at the edge of his bed to help him before guiding his legs up onto the bed.

“Alright, Potter—”

“Evans”—his hand lands on my shoulder, and I freeze under his touch—“stay?”

More lightning; a fresh churn in my stomach. I find his eyes by their gleam in the dark, but I can’t tell how focused—or unfocused—they are right now.

“Uh”—I manage an awkward chuckle—“go to sleep, Potter.”

He yanks me toward him, and as I brace a hand on his pillow and feel his other arm wrap clumsily around my waist, I realize he’s giving me a hug.

“Potter—”

His voice sounds from somewhere near my shoulder, mumbling, “Mmm love you, Lily.”

My blood halts, stomach lurching ominously even though I’m not nearly as drunk as he is. He can’t mean it; we’re housemates, is all. Maybe friends? Of the tentatively-learning-to-get-along-without-wanting-to-hex-each-other variety?

“James,” I start to protest, “wait—”

“Mhmm.”

What?

“James,” I try again.

“I’ll wait.”

This time it escapes, more frantic than I’d have liked: “What?”

He shifts under me, like he’s trying to cuddle, and mumbles, “You’reth’on—only one I’ll—wait ’round for.”

Absurdly, the first thought that flashes through my mind at his words is panic: does he know? That my gaze has started wandering toward him in class, at meals, across the common room? That I’ve found myself laughing at more of his jokes, engaging in more conversation, finding excuses to stand closer, sit nearer? That I’ve been steadily fighting the crush that has already taken hold somewhere beyond my reach of undoing?

“Stay,” he repeats, voice heavy with sleep. “I’ll wait.”

I feel dizzy, and maybe that’s why my new tactic for escape seems so appealing.

“Okay,” I whisper, and I let my head rest fully in the crook of his neck. He hums, something content, and I try to ignore the way that sound seems to vibrate through my own chest. But it’s difficult—so fucking difficult—when his arms wrap tighter around me and a faintly minty, musky smell meets my nose. For a moment, I lay in disbelief; how has this night, this last hurrah of sixth year, ended in me awkwardly cuddled with a wasted James Potter professing drunken love to me? For another moment, I allow myself to pretend: that this is not a drunk moment between two sort-of friends, but something real, something comforting, something normal, between a boy and girl who like each other.

Then, when I feel the slackened grip and soft snores that tell me he’s passed out, I slither from his arms and tip-toe out of his dormitory and back to mine. Who am I kidding? This is Potter we’re talking about. Nothing concerning that boy, this world, me, is normal.

But maybe…maybe that’s exactly why it could…work? Him and me?

I rub my eyes with a frustrated sigh and make a bargain with myself. If he brings up sober what he just said drunk, I will let myself think about it. About us. And if he doesn’t…well, then I’ll know he didn’t mean it.

===

“She was going hard on the shots.”

“What the fuck, Black, she hadn’t even had lunch!”

“Well how the hell was I supposed to know?”

Voices continue to ring in a haze somewhere above where I sit with my head between my knees, and I squeeze my eyes shut even harder, willing the earth to stop bloody spinning.

A new voice joins the fray: “What’s going on?”

No no no no no.

“What does it look like?” Mary snaps. “Black let Lily get drunk off her feet.”

“Hey now, I offered her one shot. She’s the one who proceeded to take two more.”

“And who let her drink a Bloody Vampire after those shots, hmm?”

“Why was she drinking that much, what’s happened?”

For once, Mary and Sirius fall silent, and I sigh with the sweet relief that gives my aching head. In fact, I’m so swept away in the silence of my spinning that I don’t notice a presence nearby until a hand rests on my shoulder and a voice speaks softly near my ear: “C’mon, let’s get you back up to the castle.”

No no no no no.

“I can take her,” Mary offers, but James quickly replies, “I dunno if she can walk, Mac. I’ll carry her.”

No no no no no.

Mary’s ensuing silence tells me what I already know about my prognosis: not good.

“Is, er, Amelia—”

My stomach churns, and I clamp my jaw tightly shut.

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius exclaims, “fuck, Prongs, you’re on a date! Here, I’ll take Evans—”

“No!” James clears his throat. “I mean,” he scrambles, “I’m Head Boy, so—it’s my job to, um—take care of shit, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just—tell Amelia I had to—do something, and—I’ll catch up with her later.”

“So, uh,” Sirius posits, and I can just picture him standing with crossed arms and a too-amused face, “just to, you know, clarify…do I or do I not tell Amelia that you’ve abandoned your date with her after you’ve already snogged her to personally escort a drunk Lily Evans back to the castle when there is another able-bodied bloke willing to do it?”

“Fuck off, Pads.”

Between those words and the hands pulling me to my feet, everything is suddenly upside-down: my stomach is in my throat and my heart is in my gut and my legs are as feeble as if I was trying to support all my weight on my fingertips, and then before I can process what’s happening, I’m squished, condensed, inside-out—and then I’m retching onto a tree trunk, the sticky sharpness of pine stabbing my nose and suffocating my throat.

“Sorry,” James says somewhere behind me, and then I feel the press of his hands on my heaving back. “Figured Apparating would make you sick, but I also thought you’d prefer this over being carried through the High Street.”

I pull in a shaky breath and manage to cough, “Thanks.”

Because he’s absolutely right, and if I weren’t so embarrassed about this whole ordeal, I’d be touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Here.” He vanishes the sick at my feet and then, after another wave of his wand, hands me a transfigured handkerchief. I blow my nose heartily and wipe my mouth, and when I’m done, he vanishes that, too.

“Look at me.” I don’t want to, but something about the softness of his voice entices me over my restraint.

I have to fight not to smile at the sight; he’s just James, messy hair swept across his forehead, glasses a little crooked on his nose, cheeks bitten by the wind, smirk teasing his mouth—

His wand points at my face, and as bubbles erupt in my mouth, I realize the reason for his smirk. I’m spluttering, coughing, and he’s laughing, but he relinquishes the spell. “C’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Hmm.” Food sounds nice. I take a step and quickly realize that was a mistake, because now my legs have remembered that I’m dizzy and my brain has forgotten how to make my limbs work, and—

“Ho! Okay.” His arm catches me around my waist. “Easy. Hold on, yeah? I’m going to pick you up.”

I remember this is a bad idea. Oh no. No no no no no.

But it’s too late: he’s scooped me up, and I must have wrapped my arms around his neck without realizing it. And I don’t know how far we’ve gone, but the jostling movement of being carried is making my head spin even harder, so I squint my eyes shut and bury my face into his neck, hoping the darkness brings some stillness.

It sort of works. His smell—something minty but also sharp—soothes my head, and the soft cashmere of his jumper on my cheek grounds me just enough from the swirling of the world.

A low murmur: “Almost there. You want to tell me why you drank that much in the first place?”

No. My drunk mouth has a mind of its own. “You were supp—suppose’to wait.”

He stops. “What?”

I shake my head, which ends up burrowing myself into him even further.

His words come slowly, cautiously. “Wait for…what?”

My chest is suddenly aching. “Me,” I say thickly into his jumper. “You said—”

But my throat closes, tears suddenly stinging my eyes, and my hurt is surging to the surface, ugly and exposed, and I just want to run and punch and scream—

Lips press into the top of my head. “Shh. I’m right here, Lily.”

===

I smell it before I see it: the aroma of boy that tells me I’m in a certain dormitory that will contain four beds, an absurd amount of Quidditch paraphernalia, a smattering of Muggle records, and a closet full of contraband.

A surreptitious blink shows me I’m right, but also that I’m alone. I allow a low groan as I pull myself up against the pillows. Despite the anxiety working itself through my veins, I’m warm in my cocoon of quilts, and the tilt of the light through the window tells me I haven’t completely wasted the afternoon. I turn my head; on the nightstand next to me sits a glass of water, a half-eaten sandwich, and a piece of parchment with a single sunflower on top. Insides suddenly churning anew, I reach for the note.

Downstairs if you need anything — JP

Another sigh, this one mostly relief, follows, and I slowly test drinking the water (beyond refreshing) and eating the rest of the sandwich (bloody delicious) as I try to think back through my jumbled mess of memories.

But I remember enough to know I’ll need to face to the music and it’s inevitable that I run out of excuses to stay locked away up here, so I pull myself from the bed, freshen up as well I can in the lavatory, and then head downstairs.

He’s lounging in a sofa by the fire, open book propped against his knee, but he looks up when I approach, and a smile—that one that’s made me mush for awhile now—instantly spreads over his face.

“Look who’s back in the land of the living,” he teases.

“Har har,” I reply dryly, sitting on the other end of the sofa.

He tosses his book to the ground and sits up straighter. “How’re you feeling?”

“Still a bit weak, you know. But, um…better. Much better.”

There’s an unsettlingly thoughtful look on his face, and I make a show of looking around the room to avoid it. “Where, um, is everyone?”

“Downstairs, I expect,” he supplies. “And still Hogsmeade, probably. It’s almost dinner.”

I nod, and before I can spare a moment to think, words I shouldn’t say tumble out: “Why are you here? Don’t you have a date?”

A flash of hurt crosses his face, and then he looks into the fire, chewing his lip. “I did,” he finally admits. “But I, um”—he clears his throat, fiddles with his hair—“I went back, when you were napping, and, um. Called it off.”

I’m bolted to the spot, a flurry of emotions spouting off wildly inside. “Potter—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

And just like that, I’m blank. “What?”

He chews his lip, still tugging at his hair, and then seems to steel himself with new resolve as he faces me, eyes sharp as talons. “In June, the night before the train. I know you helped me upstairs, and I…I know I…said some things. And I thought you fell asleep with me, but then when I woke up, you weren’t there, and you didn’t say…anything to me the next day. Fuck, Lily, you acted like it didn’t even happen—”

Something about hearing my first name stirs all of those feelings as fresh as though that night had just happened, and I’m breathless. “You remember that?”

He scoffs a laugh. “Of course I remember, I told you I—”

But he breaks off, and we stare at each other. My heart beats on my open skin, but I’m so absurdly drawn to him that not even panic can keep me from scooting over until I’m beside him.

“I was waiting for you,” I explain in a whisper. “I thought for sure you’d bring it up if you remembered, and when you didn’t, I…”

He clears his throat softly. “I thought you were starting to…fancy me. Last year. But then…I figured I’d read it wrong.”

“No,” I hurry to correct him, “no, you didn’t read it wrong, I did—I-I do, I just—”

His gaze has transformed from hurt to fear to hope right before my eyes, and I’m mesmerized into silence.

“You just what?”

I shrug, play with my fingers as I search for words to describe the mess that I’ve let fester in my head. “I’m just—afraid, I guess. I’ve disliked you a lot longer than I’ve liked you, and—I don’t know, I was just starting to realize I had feelings for you when we had to go home for the summer, and then we got made Head Boy and Girl, and that made it even more complicated—”

“Why?”

I blink at him. “Well, what if it didn’t work out? What if we ended up hating each other even worse than before and still had to work togeth—”

“Lily.” His hands cup my face. “I’m going to kiss you now, yeah?”

And before I can think or process or, hell, breathe, his lips cover mine, soft and gentle and yet setting me on a kind of fire I’ve never known before. I kiss him back, slide my hands up his wrists to find him trembling, and pull away slightly.

“James, you’re—”

“I know.” His forehead presses against mine, swallows hard. “I’m just…I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Me too.” And then I nudge his nose, slip my hands around his neck and into the back of his hair, as I whisper, “Worth the wait, yeah?”

His chuckle comes on shaky breath. “Oh, fuck yes.”

Our mouths slide together, hungrier this time, and I wonder if he can taste how much I’ve been yearning for him.

“About fucking time!”

We break apart, and my neck cracks in my haste to whip it around.

James groans, “Sirius—”

“What?” He flops into a chair by the fire and points at me. “I’ll have you know I take full credit for this.”

I roll my eyes. “Uh-huh.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Who d’you think encouraged Jamesie boy here to go out with another bird in his quest to get over you? Me. Who got you drunk? Me. Who sent a fourth year tattling to James on his date that the Head Girl needed help in the alley? Me. So yes, I take full credit, Evans.”

I’m gaping at him, but he’s not done. “Oh, and I also got Remus and Pete to help me do an overnight prank on Filch, so the dorm’s yours until probably, oh, three a.m?”

The bloody amazing bastard winks at me. “You’ve been ogling him long enough, figured you’d want a piece once you sobered up.”

He looks between me and James, sitting beside me in a similar stupor of shock.

“Look, I don’t do this match-making shit often, but I’m pretty sure this is the part where you idiots say, oh, thank you, Sirius, you’re the bestest friend ever, how can we ever repay—”

“We’ll silence the bed,” I answer cheekily, leaping to my feet. “You’re welcome.”

Now it’s Sirius’s turn to gape, but I ignore him and trail my hand over James’s shoulder as I make for the stairs and tease, “You aren’t going to keep my waiting, are you?”

There’s a brief scuffle behind me that culminates in Sirius laughing and James’s footsteps heavy on the carpet. And then—

“No,” he breathes into my ear, one hand sliding protectively around my middle. “Never.”

This time, we scurry up the stairs with equally weak knees; this time, we drag each other through the door amidst half-crazed kisses; this time, I don’t even notice the smell of boy because all of my senses are consumed with the one holding me, kissing me, undressing me; this time, we fall on his bed in a tangled heap; and this time, when we wake up (in the dead of night to the sounds of his friends banging on about stubbed toes and close calls), we are together.

We laugh amongst ourselves from behind the sanctity of his silenced drapes, my head nuzzled into a spot on his chest that feels like home, and his arms squeeze tighter, mouth dips lower, until we inevitably find each other again.

There was a special heat in our first time, I think, a heat that can only be born of waiting. But this heat—this delicious heaviness, this lingering rhythm, this purposeful build of desire—this is the heat that comes from never having to wait again. And I tell him in the clutch of his hair in my fingers, my nails in his back: I’m never letting go.

#missgryffin writes #waiting #jily one shot #efkgirldetective #summer of jily #prompt 10 #reader prompt

176 notes · View notes

cr0g-0 · 3 years

Text

Gift for Romannnn! @baka-monarch

P.s I made this title and thing before we did rp11 so it is completely unrelated to that fair warning.

------------------

Rules and Restrictions

Tw-Angst, Fearplay, Dehumanization

------------------

Borrowers were nothing but pets and pests.

They hadn't had there freedom for a longtime ever sense they were found out by humans.

Tommy looked glumly out at the glass walls, his legs close to his chest as he waited and watched.

He missed his brothers, missed them a lot. They had been taken a little wholes back, both by the same person but at different times which worried him...

Why had humans decided to be like this? Did they decide they were another species in need of their 'help'? Or were they just another species to be crushed and controlled by them?

It didn't matter anymore though, he was stuck in a glass cage where he would stay until a human decided to buy him like he was nothing more than an object.

His heart skipped a beat as he listened to the store's bell ring out. It was late, no human should be out trying to buy a pet.

The blond shivered and shrunk back in the cage, his breath was starting to pick up as he watched the figure walk through the store, looking at other borrowers cages.

He listened to the human greet the one at the front before he came to his section and started looking at all the containers until they reached his.

Tommy tried to glare at the ominous mask figure in front of him, the smiling mask tilted a little before they turned around. Tommy sighed out in relief until he heard the voice.

"I'll take this one!"

The borrowers blood ran cold and his head dropped like a heavy stone. This was the same human that had taken Techno and then Wilbur.

'No no no no no no no-' the nightmarish loop of words played like a haunting melody and the world blurred and faded out in his brain as he zoned out.

All he knew was his cage was grabbed, he was in a car and now he was on a table. The masked man loomed over him and the blond shrunk away.

"Now little fella, I hear your name is Tommy. Now Tommy, I have several rules for you to follow and if your to decide you don't want to comply...well I have ways to get you too. Do I make myself clear?"

The blond didn't respond, his body shaking like a leaf. The human slammed his hands down beside the cage and he yelped, jumping.

"Rule number 1. Answer me when I talk to you. Have I made myself clear?" Tommy immediately nodded. "Y-Yes..."

"I'm Dream and I'll be your new owner. Now, I have 5 simple and easy to follow rules. You already know number 1 so I won't repeat it. Rule number 2. You will eat everything I give to you. Rule 3. You are to stay put at all times and unless I take you out you are to stay in the cage. Rule 4. Do not speak to anyone aside me and no talking back so don't say no or cuss me out."

The masked human or 'Dream' paused for a moment.

"And Rule 5. Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any borrowers that might come around. I have had 2 other borrowers and they have both escaped. I don't plan on losing another borrower."

The smiling masked practically stared into his soul before he nodded, shaking.

"Glad you understand my little pet~! Have a good rest! I'll be back later."

He went to the light switch and the lights flicked off, the human left the room and Tommy along with it.

The young borrower did nothing but curl up into a ball and sob.

#tiny!tommy #tiny!techno #tiny!wilbur #giant!dream #mcyt g/t community #mcyt g/t #smog writes

61 notes · View notes

alirhi · 3 years

Text

This is oddly fun lol

Let's see how many of these I can churn out before I get distracted or need a break! (pff. like I need an excuse to watch the show again. Despite its flaws, I really, really love TFATWS, guys)

Without further ado, let's get down to it!

Episode 2: The Star-Spangled Man

I'm pretty sure I'm on record when it comes to my undying hate for John Walker, yes? So obviously, Bucky's grumpiness 100% stays 😂

I'm not really a fan of how much emphasis they put on the shield. I can see it as a catalyst for Bucky to go confront Sam, yes, but he wouldn't keep going "shield shield shield" like a broken record. Bucky has consistently been shown to be an empathetic man. I can't believe for a second that he'd be barking at Sam about having no right to give up the shield; he'd ask why. Sam's got shit to do, so he'd get impatient and not answer.

"Why'd you give up so easily? If you were overwhelmed, I could've helped you-" "You've been ignoring me. Like now, how you're ignoring me walking away from you." "Well, you weren't texting me about this." "You think I needed your permission?!" "No, but I was right there with Steve while he was learning what it meant to be Cap. I wouldn't mind helping you get used to-" "Then go teach him." A vague gesture toward the "Cap is back" posters. Bucky makes a face. "Steve passed the mantle to you. You fought with him. You earned it. That little shit didn't." "What do you want me to do about it?" "Just tell me why, Sam. I mean it. I just wanna understand." "Not now, Buck. I've got shit to do. You see me heading for a plane right now, right?" "This is important!" "So is this." Sam tells him about the Flag Smashers, we get our silly Big Three/Gandalf conversation.

I'm sorry, but that whole jumping from the plane scene is funny as hell, and I love all the nods they added in to jokes from the press tours that brought us this show in the first place (like ripping the sleeve off his jacket lol). I don't think I'd change a single thing from the Big Three convo to Bucky joining Sam in the warehouse.

"You're doing the staring thing again." "You're staring at your watch," Bucky points out. He knows it's linked to Redwing, he's just pointing out how dumb that line is in that situation. They're there for recon lol. They're meant to be looking around.

I don't...particularly care about the other common gripe here? Meaning, "Bucky's a civilian, so why is he allowed to randomly jump in on a military mission?" Bucky's also known in this universe as an Avenger, just like Sam, so I don't think anyone would really bat an eye at him joining. Also, I have my own agenda related to Bucky's apparent freedom to walk in and out of military/government things.

What does bug me (as funny as it is) is Bucky's animosity toward Redwing. Again... Bucky is a certified nerd. Always has been. If anything, he'd be fascinated by Redwing and Sam would constantly have to slap him away because he's leaning in too close trying to see the tiny watch monitor. "I don't trust Redwing" is just old man griping "I don't trust your newfangled technology" and that... that's not Bucky.

And that "we're not assassins" dig, and then laughing when Bucky gets upset? That's not Sam. Both of these men have shown a remarkable amount of empathy, and Sam has a background in helping traumatized vets. If he cared enough about Bucky to be texting him after Steve left, he'd care enough not to make callous jokes about his time as The Winter Soldier, whether he knows the full story or not.

The fight on top of moving trucks looks cool, but makes no logical sense. I keep trying to think of a way to explain this from a story perspective, rather than a lazy "it looks cool!" filmmaking one, and I'm coming up blank. Anyone with half a brain would have pulled over, had the fight, and then taken off. It was a fun sequence, though... Eh. I'll leave it.

When Karli breaks Redwing, Bucky doesn't say "I always wanted to do that." Again, it's funny - I love the jabs about that stupid robo bird XD - but not Bucky. In my version, he smirks and says "You're so gonna regret that."

"You were kinda getting your asses kicked before we got there." Is immediately followed by Bucky staring him down and asking, "And... how did that fight end for you?" Sam adds, "I don't see them in custody. Are-are they following in a van?" He looks around, sarcastically searching for another vehicle. Walker and Hoskins grimace at each other, grudgingly conceding that point.

credit to @dailycelebs

Seeing Walker, and having to listen to his stupid pro-government rhetoric, makes Bucky think about Steve. When we cut from the Flag Smashers back to Bucky and Sam and the closeup of Bucky's pensive face, we hear 1940s Steve angrily telling 1940s Bucky about how the higher ups in the army had already written off the POWs and were going to leave them to die. "I love our country, Buck," he laments, "but what do I do when I'm not too sure anymore about the people who run it?"

"What you always do," is young Bucky's answer, "stand for what's right, not who's in power."

Perfect lead-in to the conversation about handling things themselves.

When Sam meets Isaiah, and hears his story, not only is he horrified and heartsick for him, but he also begins to see Bucky in a new light. He's seeing Bucky's face, the way he tries to hide his emotions and not make this conversation about him, and he's putting things together. He's still upset at being out of the loop, but he's seeing more of the situation than just "omg black super soldier". When Bucky says "he'd already been through enough," Sam asks quietly, "like you?"

The racist cop comes back before Bucky can answer, to arrest him for missing his appointment with Raynor.

ngl guys, I was so moved by the difference in how that cop treated Sam (before knowing he's Important) vs how he treated Bucky (knowing that the government views him as a violent, if pardoned, criminal). He approaches Sam with his hand on his gun, eager to defend Bucky; "is this guy bothering you?" Just because they're having a heated conversation. Then, when he sees that there's a warrant for Bucky, he approaches timidly, apologizes, treats him gently and politely. By "moved," btw, I don't mean "it was so sweet." I mean "this is fucking sick, and very, very realistic." White cops see a white guy and treat him with respect regardless of his actual criminal record, while being openly hostile towards an innocent black man without even knowing who he is, just because he's black. Moments like this made me applaud Spellman.

"You, too, Sam - That wasn't a request" is Sam's first sign that there's something off about Raynor.

Look, again... The couples therapy banter is funny because Sebastian and Anthony are funny, but that scene, from a storytelling and a mental health standpoint, is atrocious. Without some underlying reason behind her actions, Raynor is just a pointlessly terrible therapist.

Rather than insulting Bucky from the outset, Sam is angry with Raynor for violating Bucky's privacy by not only introducing herself as his therapist, but forcing a "couples" session without her patient's consent. With his background pre-Avenging, he knows this shit shouldn't fly. He immediately points out how unprofessional she's being.

Raynor doesn't bother listening - the fuck does she care, really? She shrugs and casually admits it's "slightly unprofessional" but proceeds anyway.

"Whatever's eating at him?" Sam scoffs. "Did you really just say that to a WWII veteran and the world's longest-serving POW with complex PTSD? Did I hear that right? I've had, maybe, like five conversations with this man since we met, and even I know he's been through some shit and-" "Sam," Bucky tries to interrupt, looking uncomfortable. With his crushing guilt, he has an easier time dealing with insults than someone coming to his defense. "No," Sam snaps. "If the HIPAA Slayer over here wants to drag me into this, she's damn well gonna hear what I have to say!" He turns back to Raynor and demands, "Is this how you've been treating him this whole time? Downplaying what he's been through and making a grown-ass man sound like a sulking teenager?" Raynor keeps her cool, but barely. Visibly frustrated and annoyed, she ignores Sam's tirade and tries to force the conversation back onto the track she wants it on. Bucky's embarrassed and doesn't know how to react to any of this, so he still makes that little "he would talk less" jab. Sam, seeing that he's not going to get anywhere with him until they're away from this bitch, glowers and plays along. We get our silly/angry banter.

After their argument with Walker, Sam finally confronts Bucky about what really happened to him.

"He meant HYDRA; HYDRA used to be my people." "Were they?" Sam asks, stopping him and looking him in the eye, not letting him look away or deflect. "Steve was under the impression that they were your captors. I was under the impression that the Wakandans spent two years deprogramming you so no one could use you the way HYDRA did ever again." "I-" Startled, not expecting that, Bucky stutters a little and admits, "Yeah, I... That's true, I guess." "You guess?" "Does it matter? Sam rolls his eyes. "I dunno, does it matter that you were a slave for most of the 20th century?" "I doubt it matters much to my victims." "HYDRA's victims," Sam corrects firmly. "Just like you." Bucky fidgets; he doesn't know what to do or say. No one since Steve has even so much as insinuated that Bucky wasn't 100% culpable for what he did while under HYDRA control. "Look," Sam sighs, "I don't particularly like you. I don't hate you, but I'm not your biggest fan." "...Thanks?" "I just need you to know where I stand-" "Yeah, got it-" "-So you know I'm not biased like Steve when I say you had no choice. I don't know your story, but I know no one flips on a dime from docile and plagued with guilt to an unstoppable killing machine and back without some serious psychological damage behind that. I'm not saying you're an innocent little bunny, but I don't think you're a monster." "Thanks," Bucky croaks, more sincerely this time, and a bit choked up. He clears his throat and looks distinctly uncomfortable as he grumbles, "but to catch these guys, we may need to talk to a monster." Sam cringes. "I was afraid you'd say that."

#sebastian stan #anthony mackie #tfatws #tfatws critical #fan ramblings #show rewrite #if i'd written it #episode 2

19 notes · View notes

doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go

King of my heart, body and soul

“You know, I found your husband.”

The voice in the doorway of the lounge made Jo look up in shock, brows furrowing as she comprehended what Alex had just said. “What?”

“I hired a guy. I found his name. I looked him up,” Alex paused, gauging Jo’s reaction as he relayed his actions. “And then I went and found him.”

“Oh, my God, Alex.”

“Look. You didn't ask me to do that, and you didn't give me permission to do that, and it was wrong, and I'm sorry. But Jo, I swear to God, I could never, ever hurt you,” Alex wore a pitiful expression as he looked at Jo, obviously hoping she would hear him out. “My dad, he was like your ex. I'm not like that, all right? I'm not like my dad. I mean, I do things that are wrong. I do things that are stupid. But I swear to you I would never hurt you.”

Jo let Alex’s words sink in, heart pounding as she realized that Alex had gone behind her back, “You saw Paul?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious? After I told you what I went through you just went behind my back and found Paul,” Jo ran a hand through her hair as she fought back tears. “I’ve spent so many years hiding from him and you just what? Found him on the internet? What if he figures out where I am? What then?” “Jo I-”

“No this… This is unforgivable. I’m sorry Alex but I don’t think I can trust you again after this,” Jo turned away from Alex, attempting to stem her tears long enough for her to get herself alone. “Can you just leave? Please?”

There’s a long pause and she almost thinks that he’s left her there before his voice pipes up, “I’m sorry Jo. Really I am.” Once she hears him leave the lounge and shut the door behind himself, Jo let’s a few quiet tears escape. She contemplates running, leaving everything behind once again and starting over. But she’s built a life here in Seattle, Alex be damned. She wasn’t going to let Paul or her fear keep her from living her life. If Paul became an issue again then she’d face the problem when it was standing in front of her. She wasn’t the same scared girl she used to be, she was a fighter and she could handle this.

“The Heparin should have helped by now. I think I made the wrong call.”

Jo’s heart drops as she approaches Alex and Amelia. She had run herself ragged around the hospital trying to find an answer only for her search to be useless.

“Wait. Heparin? No. I texted,” Alex turns at the sound of her voice, eyeing her warily. “They didn't reverse him.”

“Damn it. We can't access the reversal agent,” Alex looks at Amelia, who nods at him as she moves into the room. “Prep him to move.”

“What is it? What's wrong,” Frankie’s mom is frantic as Helm and Amelia begin to prep Frankie.

“Frankie's AVM might be bleeding. We've got to get him to the O.R. now.”

“But the medicine you gave him. It was supposed to help.”

“I'm sorry. We need to go.”

Amelia and Helm push Frankie out of the room, his mom hot on their heels. Jo watches them, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip in worry. Finally she looks up to Alex who hasn’t moved from his spot next to her.

“Hey. I'm so sorry. I texted. It didn't go through. And then…”

“And then what,” Jo is expecting anger from Alex but instead his voice is laced with concern as he places a hand on her shoulder. “Jo, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t know why the words slip out so easily for her but as Jo looks at Alex she can’t help herself, “Paul is here. I… I saw him downstairs.”

She doesn’t need to say anything else as Alex steps forward and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close as she takes a few shuddering breaths, “Why don’t you come sit in the gallery while Amelia and I operate? That way you aren’t totally alone.”

Jo nods, silently agreeing to Alex’s plan as they walked down the hall towards the OR. Jo stops a few feet away from the scrub room, gripping Alex’s arm tightly. In front of them sits Paul Stadler, fixing his shoe covers without a care in the world. Alex quickly turns to Jo, blocking her from Paul’s view.

“I’m in OR 3, go up to the gallery and don’t move until I come up later,” Alex watched as Jo let out a shaky breath and nodded, eyes still trained on Paul. “It’s gonna be alright Jo.”

Alex wants nothing more than to reach down and kiss Jo, to hold her tight as a comfort to both of them that things would be okay. Instead he watches her walk down the hallway, turning a corner and disappearing from his line of view, unknowingly carrying a large piece of his heart with her.

It’s late the next day when Alex walks Jo up to the door of the loft. After signing the divorce papers only for Paul to die a few hours later Jo had been through a lot. Alex had driven her home, making sure she got into the loft safely, “I’m gonna head out, do you need anything before I go?”

“Can you maybe just camp out on the couch tonight,” Jo sat on her bed, a ratty Princeton sweatshirt engulfing her a s she stared helplessly at Alex. “I just… I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or anything,” Alex rubs the back of his neck nervously, glancing up at Jo who has tears welling in her eyes. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll stay okay?”

Jo sucks in a deep breath before a sob breaks from her, “I’m just really shaken up. I don’t want to be alone again. I know… I know that Paul is dead but I can’t stop my mind from playing worst case scenarios on an endless loop.

Alex closes the gap between them and pulls Jo into his arms as she continues to cry. He wanted nothing more than to hold her all night, comfort her the way she wanted. But he knew that wasn’t his place anymore so he started on the couch, the same one Jo had bought him. He leapt up when Jo was startled awake by a nightmare, comforting her until she drifted back to sleep. He feels selfish for loving the way her body so easily curls against his, but if this is the only way he can have Jo then so be it.

“You get ditched already too?” Jo jumps at the voice that sounds behind her, louder than the crowded room around her. She turns with a small grin as she meets Alex’s eyes, “Yeah I came down with Meredith but as soon as we got here she went off with Hayes. I’m pretty sure they already left.”

“Well if I was having the amount of sex they were having I wouldn’t want to stick around at some stuffy party either,” Alex takes a long gulp of his beer, Jo eyeing him for just a moment too long. His eyes glance over her and she can almost hear the gears in his brain turning. “What’s that look for?”

Jo gulps her own red wine, feeling a blush creep up from her neck to her cheeks, “Nothing, I just haven’t gotten laid in a pathetically long time. I don’t have time for casual sex.”

A deep laugh escapes Alex and the sound vibrates through Jo’s body, lighting her up with an electricity she hadn’t felt in far too long. Her eyes meet his, a grin forming on his cheeks, and before Alex could say anything else she was speaking, one hand pressing a finger into his chest, “Don’t say it!”

“I didn’t say anything!” “Yes but you have that cocky grin that you always used to wear when you thought you were going to get laid,” Jo narrows her eyes in Alex’s direction as his smirk widens. “Don’t even think about it, I am not going home with you.”

The moment isn’t as tense or awkward as Jo would’ve assumed, instead the same electricity fluttering around her chest was now buzzing around her and Alex. Even though they’d been broken up for over a year and a half now, their chemistry was still there burning just as strong as ever.

“You said it yourself, you haven’t gotten laid in awhile. We could help each other out,” Jo hates how her body reacts to him, melting at the mere suggestion of having sex. “It could be a no strings attached kind of thing, you know just scratching an itch.”

“And you think that you and I could be no strings attached? After all, we do have a history.”

The way their eyes meet then confirms for Jo that no matter what she says next her body is going to betray her and give into the primal urge building up rapidly within her. Alex’s eyes are dark and filled with a sense of longing as he stares at her, fingers reaching out to grab her hand, “There’s only one way to find out.”

They barely make it to Alex’s car before their hands are all over each other, clothing being ripped away as they fall into the backseat in a whirlwind of moans and gasps. It feels as if no time has passed between them as she and Alex fall over the edge together, heavy breaths echoing around them as Jo rests her cheek against his chest.

His heartbeat sounding in her ear comforts her in a way she’d forgotten about, never lingering like this with any of her one night stands or casual flings. She almost lets herself get caught up in the feeling before Alex’s voice rings in her ear.

“So… no strings attached?”

She knows she’s had a drink too many when she let’s Alex’s arms wrap around her waist, her body melting at his touch despite the fact that they were surrounded by their friends and coworkers. Meredith and Hayes had said their vows hours earlier, the couple happily dancing with all five of their combined children as everyone around them celebrated.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alex’s breath is burning hot against her neck, his presence overwhelming all of her senses. “I’ve got a room upstairs.” “Aren’t you supposed to stick around since you’re the man of honor,” Jo turns in his embrace and settles her hands on Alex’s chest as she fixes him with a stern look. “I don’t think Mer will be too happy to look around and find you missing.”

Alex rolls his eyes as his hands snake down to her waist, pulling her closer to him, “She’ll live. Now c'mon, I've been staring at you in that dress all night and all I’ve wanted is to take it off of you.”

The rest of the night is a blur, Jo and Alex falling into bed with each other multiple times before they finally succumb to sleep. It’s not until late the next afternoon when she wakes up in his embrace that Jo realizes that they hadn’t used any protection. Staring at Alex’s sleeping form she decides to keep that revelation to herself, dressing quietly and slipping out the hotel room before he can wake up.

+ The next few weeks are excruciating, Jo avoiding Alex at any and all costs. They’d usually meet up at least once a week, but she’d been ignoring his texts and avoiding the peds floor whenever possible. She knew Alex could tell something was wrong, even before they’d started their ‘no strings attached’ relationship they’d see each other around the hospital or at Joe’s. But since Meredith and Hayes’ wedding she’d given him the cold shoulder, her anxious mind spinning out as she played over what their future might look like.

It’s a month after the wedding when she finally gets hit with a bout of nausea in the middle of rounds. She barely makes it out of the patient room and to the trashcan in the hallway before her breakfast is reappearing in front of her, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach as she shoos her group of residents away. Once she’s confident that she won’t throw up again, Jo finds herself darting to the nearest supply closet and grabbing a pregnancy test.

She’s known in the back of her head for almost a week but she hadn’t dared to confirm the growing suspicion lingering there. Now however there would be no more denying as what she assumed was morning sickness and the accompanying nausea had plagued her since rolling out of bed that morning.

“C’mon, just tell me already,” Jo mumbles the words to herself as she stares down at the two tests resting on the bathroom counter in the attendings lounge.

“Jo? You okay?” The question is met with a knock on the bathroom door but before Jo can answer the person on the other side the timer on her phone is blaring, startling her into knocking both tests and her still sounding phone onto the floor. She scrambles to pick everything up just as the door swings open, Alex standing before her with a worried expression on his face.

Great, just what I needed.

She’s about to speak when she follows his line of sight to the two plastic tests sitting right in front of his feet, both brandishing a bright pink plus sign. Jo picks the tests up quickly but she knows the damage has already been done. When she stands up and faces Alex her mind immediately flashes back to the night he proposed to her in the loft. His face has the same mix of heartache and hurt that it had that day two years ago and Jo’s own heart twists as she meets his eyes.

“Oh.” The word slips from Alex’s mouth easily and his eyes dart to Jo’s abdomen. Before he can say anything else Jo is speaking in a nervous tangent, “I was throwing up this morning and I’ve already suspected for a few weeks, well I assumed something might have happened since we weren’t exactly careful at the wedding and I was just waiting for this stupid stick to turn pink and then-”

“You knew?,” Alex’s voice stops her nervous tangent, blinking up at him in confusion. “You knew, or you thought you might know, and you didn’t say anything to me?”

“Well I wasn’t for sure about it-” “But you knew we didn’t use protection? And that you might be pregnant for weeks and you didn’t say anything. Instead you just avoided me the whole time,” Jo could feel Alex’s anger rising as his brain worked through the situation at hand. “Were you even going to tell me you were pregnant if I hadn’t shown up just now?”

“Of course I was! But I didn’t think I needed to keep you in the loop on every little thing in my life seeing as you’re not my boyfriend,” Jo crosses her arms as she stares down Alex, her own anger boiling under her skin. “You were the one that insisted on this being no strings attached, well that’s exactly what you’ve got! I’ll let you know when I book an appointment, other than that don’t expect to hear from me.” Jo brushes past Alex, ignoring his calls to her as she walks briskly out of the attendings lounge. She would deal with the repercussions later, for now all she wanted was to be left alone and to be as far away from Alex as possible.

Weeks pass by and true to her word Jo doesn't contact Alex except to tell him about her first ultrasound. He misses the appointment, an emergency surgery calling him away half an hour beforehand, and Jo feels a small twinge of sadness as she tucks the ultrasound into his wallet. While part of her is still upset with him, another part is sad that he wasn’t able to experience the appointment with her.

“Wilson I’ve got a patient in room 4 that needs a consult,” Hunt’s voice booms from behind her and Jo turns to meet his eye. “Car crash victim with minor injuries. Do you mind grabbing it? We’re filling up fast here.”

Jo nods, grabbing an iPad and bringing up the electronic chart. She feels like crap, even though she’s approaching the 12 week mark she’s still plagued with nausea and heartburn most days. Her stomach now has the slightest curve to it and Jo can’t help but run her hand over the small bump throughout the day.

“Hi Mr. Greene, my name is Doctor Wilson and I’m-“

“I don’t really care who you are, I’m not staying in this damn hospital,” the older man seems disgruntled, sitting on the edge of the gurney and fixing Jo with a glare. “I’m perfectly fine anyways.”

Despite what he says, the man has a large gash across his forehead and his right arm is clearly bothering him. Jo takes his reluctance in stride, taking another step towards the bed, “I just want to check out that cut on your forehead and make sure it doesn’t get infected. It looks like you might need stitches.” “I told you I’m fine! I don’t trust any of you doctors.”

“Well we’re going to have to keep you for obser-“

Before she can move out of the way, the man is springing up from the gurney and lunging towards her. His hands grab her arms roughly and slam her into the wall of the trauma room. Jo can feel her head smack against the plaster as she lets a scream out, eyes screwing shut as she tries not to let her racing mind overwhelm her.

Paul. Running away. Jason. Fighting back. DeLuca. Mistakes. Alex. Heartbreak. Her baby… Her baby. Her baby.

Suddenly the pressure against her arms releases and Jo opens her eyes in time to see Alex pulling the now screaming patient away from her. Instead of the angry and visceral reaction she’s expecting from him, Jo watches as Alex pulls the patient away just long enough to let Owen sedate him. As soon as he hands him off, Alex is in front of her, his hands now resting on her shoulders as he looks her over. She’s frozen in place, her body shaking involuntarily as she tries to stop the panic attack she can feel coming on.

“Are you okay? Jo?”

“Um yeah, I think so. I hit my head pretty hard but I’m okay,” she can hear the way her voice is trembling as she meets Alex’s eyes. “I’m fine, I’m okay. I’m fine, really I’m fine.” She keeps repeating the words as Alex pulls her into him, tears floating down her cheeks as her chest constricts tightly. Jo has been through her share of scary situations before, she’s been beaten within an inch of her life but she’s never been this scared. She’s never had to worry about someone else before but right now all she could think about was if her baby had somehow been hurt.

“Do you want me to page Carina to check you out?”

Any other day she would have brushed off concerns from anyone about her well-being but Jo’s anxiety is already peaking and she doesn’t want to leave anything to chance. She nods slowly, listening as Alex asks Owen to page Carina and then leads her out of the room.

Hours later Jo is crawling into bed, ready for the day to be over. Her head is pounding but she’d been instructed to stay awake for a few hours following her injury to make sure she truly was okay. After having both Amelia and Carina poke and prod her, she was more than ready to lay in bed until late tomorrow.

“Your meds are on the counter and I filled up a water bottle for you to keep on your side table,” Jo gazes up at Alex who's standing in front of her, a concerned yet genuine smile on his face as he looks at her. “You need anything else before I head out?” “Stay.” Alex pauses only for a second, his expression showing his shock and hope for only a second before he schools his emotions once again, “I don’t wanna intrude. But you can call me if you need anything.” “No I want you to stay Alex,” Jo sits up in bed, despite how tired her body is and fixes Alex with a sincere gaze. An alarming sense of deja vu comes over her as she remembers a similar conversation happening after Paul’s death. Jo had wanted Alex to stay with her and crawl into bed beside her, seeking his comfort after the traumatic events. But always the gentlemen Alex had stayed true to his word and stuck to the couch, except to comfort her in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my suspicions, but I swear as soon as I knew I was going to tell you.” “You didn’t need to tell me anything Jo, I was overreacting. I panicked and I’m sorry.”

Jo shakes her head, eyes watering as she reaches for Alex’s hand, “I don’t care about any of that. You… When you pulled that patient off of me I was convinced that you were going to lunge at him or.... It doesn’t matter what I thought, what matters is that you kept your cool and you made sure I was okay. You showed me that you’ve changed.”

“Of course I did Jo, you mean a lot to me,” Alex moves his free hand up to cup Jo’s cheek and swipe at the few tears that had collected there.

“And you mean so much to me Alex, more than you know. I know we’ve been through alot but I still care about you. And I don’t want to continue this stupid ‘no strings attached’ thing we have going.” “Oh… Okay.” A grin spreads across Jo’s face as she leans up, pressing her forehead against Alex’s, “I mean I want more with you. I don’t want random hookups or meaningless sex, I want the whole thing. I want you here with me every night. And I want to raise our baby together. I love you Alex, so much. It might’ve taken me a while to realize it but I want it all with you.”

Alex doesn’t bother responding, instead he leans forward and kisses her sweetly. Relief floods Jo as she tangles her fingers in his hair, the stress and pain of the day melting away as she leans into Alex.

“I love you too. And I’m really glad you’re both okay,” Alex’s hand slides down to the small bump that had grown in just days beforehand, a smile taking over his face as he did so. “You have a bump!”

“Pretty sure it’s all bloat but there’s definitely a baby in there,” Jo let’s a small laugh out as she covers his hand with her own. “We’re sure doing everything out of order aren't we?”

“Have we ever done anything the easy way?”

#jo wilson #jo karev #alex karev #jo x alex #jolex #jolex fanfic #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfic #tsjolexweek21 #nina writes #jolex fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

getitinbusan · 3 years

Text

Locked -

Taehyung

Smut with Taehyung in Paris what could be better? 19+

Happy Birthday Taehyung! You are my sun my moon and all of my stars.

Part of the The Juis Suis Fou de Toi Universe.

Artist Tae AU. 4213 words.

While convincing his girlfriend he should paint her, things get a little sexually abstract.

Contains sex (M/F), Oral (M) Mutual Masturbation (M/F), Swearing, Slight Dom Tae, OC is insecure. Do not be fooled before the read more, there is no cheating in this fic.

"We're almost home, please don't make me carry you."

Yeontan looked up with big eyes as he defiantly sat in the middle of the sidewalk. Crouching down to his level in defeat you tore a piece of your pastry off and began bargaining.

"It's strawberry your favorite, you can have some if you just stand up."

He let out a little bark seemingly in agreeance with the bribe and stood, tail wagging frantically.

"Tannie," Taehyung scooped the excited dog into his arms while placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Camille, this is my girlfriend Y/N and this," Yeontan wiggled in his arms while licking his face, "is Tannie."

"Oh, Hi."

Shocked you took in the tall gorgeous blonde who accompanied you boyfriend. Why Taehyung was walking around the streets of Paris with her you were unsure, and honestly not very happy.

"It's really nice to meet you Camille."

Suddenly feeling self conscious you pulled your coat tighter around yourself.

Taehyung, noticing the sudden shift in your mood wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Camille is helping me with the gallery opening. We were going to grab some dinner before we started. Do you want to join us?"

Your mind raced, what do you do? He hadn't invited you in the first place so obviously you'd be intruding.

If you stayed he'd be looking at you side by side, comparing Pomme to Pomme De Terre. But, if you left they'd be alone, getting to know one another or worse. Maybe they already knew each other better than they should.

In either scenario your insecurities would be winning.

"Tannie's getting pretty tired and I was going to stop at the Butcher to grab us dinner." Your eyes fell on his searching for guilt and found nothing but adoration. "But I guess you've already got plans so I'll just catch up with you later."

He passed the dog back to you, a new look of concern on his face.

"Okay, I guess I'll just see you at home later," he kissed your cheek.

"Bye Tannie, bye Y/N."

The woman smiled and looped her arm through Taehyung's as they walked towards the cafe.

"That doesn’t mean anything right Tan? It’s just a French thing I’m sure.” You must be going crazy standing in the street talking to your dog. “So, how do you feel about stopping for some wine?"

You frowned at your four legged companion and for once he seemed sympathetic offering a head tilt and a whimper.

"Don't worry, you can have his Steak."

Walking home in a daze you searched your memory, had he told you about this? Taehyung liked to work alone, surely you'd remember him mentioning he'd hired an assistant.

Your feet had suddenly become as tired as your mind. The blue mansard roof of your apartment peeked through the greenery of the blowing trees urging you forward, calling you home.

Rounding the last corner, the Pont Des Arts had been covered in gaudy yellow caution tape. In the hour and a half you'd been out, workers had begun pulling off rail sections of the love locked bridge.

You felt dizzy, was this a sign? The lock that you'd placed on it signifying your commitment was being taken away. Helpless you stood watching thousands of couples promise's to one another being disassembled.

Pulling your phone from your satin lined pocket your first instinct was to text Taehyung.

Y/N: I can't believe it, they're dismantling the bridge and taking away our lock 💔 I'm so sad Taehyung, It really meant so much to me.

Tears rolled down your cheek as you reevaluated the message. Instead of hitting send you deleted and replaced your words

Y/N: The bridge is under construction, maybe take a different way home later.

You hadn't heard him come home and had no idea how late he'd been out. With sadness and worry getting the best of your brain, sleep seemed like the only way to curb your anxiety. It had been quite an effective method until you found yourself wide awake tiptoeing through your house in the wee hours of the morning.

The worn floorboards creaked underneath your slow step, the vintage wood was cold to the touch of your bare feet. The old apartment was drafty on the best of days but 4 am carried its own specific type of chill.

A shiver ran up your spine, perhaps one of Le Marais famous revolutionary ghosts had joined in on the quest to find your boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach that the universe was trying to tell you something.

A faint light glowed yellow under the warped door at the end of the hallway and the sounds of Thelonious Monk's piano drifted through the air the closer you got.

The painted metal door handle gave way opening to a wall of heat from the radiators lining the enormous windows.

"Go figure I'd find you in the warmest room in the house."

He was shirtless and seemingly debating the fate of the canvas before him. With his paintbrush clenched between his teeth he turned, a huge smile warming you instantly.

"Why aren't you in bed?" He set the brush down and walked over to wrap you in his embrace.

"I don't like sleeping without you, you're the only thing that keeps me warm in that freezer of a bedroom."

You stood on your tiptoes to place a peck on his lips.

"What are you working on? Is it for the gallery?"

He sighed heavily, "Just another Lavender Field I guess. I'm so uninspired. Why won't you just let me paint you, hmm?"

His fingers splayed over the lace covered small of your back pulling you in tighter. "What are you so afraid of."

"Tae," you buried your face into the crook of his neck. "Isn't the point of art painting things that people want to look at? You should be painting women like Camille not me."

Pressed to his chest you swear you heard his breath halt. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke softly.

"Camille is pretty but there is absolutely nothing unique or inspiring about her."

He kissed the top of your head before tugging on your chin to make you look at him.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, but you are a terribly uncooperative muse."

"I don't want to be Tae, I'm just afraid"

"What is there to be afraid of? It's just you and me, If you don’t like it I'm the only one who will see it."

"That's it though, what if…" a tear slipped from your eye, "What if you don't like what you see, what if painting me makes you see all my flaws. I can't stand looking in the mirror for 5 minutes and you want to immortalize my every imperfection on a canvas."

His face was soft and serious, the lights from the city streaming through the large windows across his honey skin.

"Sweetheart, how do I make you believe me? I never want you to be uncomfortable but I think if I can show you how you look through my eyes you'll understand what my heart sees every time I look at you.”

Stepping back from him you nodded. Sliding the thin straps off your shoulders you stepped out of the white lace puddle that now lay at your feet.

"Okay."

His face lit up like he'd received divine inspiration.

"I have an idea."

He scurried for a palate, squeezing colors on it like a man possessed. Rummaging for the right brushes he returned presenting them to you like a cat who'd dragged home a mouse.

"Trust me?"

You nodded, "I do."

Loading his brush with paint you stood waiting for him to lay the first stroke to the oversize canvas leaning on the wall beside you.

Raising the tool to his mouth he exhaled a warm breath over it as if trying to take the chill off.

"I've never seen this technique before"

"It's because I've only just invented it."

He ran the paintbrush down your torso sending a shiver from head to toe.

You gasped, "You're not just painting me... you're literally painting Me?"

The biggest smile overtook his face, "You said you trusted me."

Trying to remain still and not ask questions you watched him work. Diligently mixing colors and trading brushes his design slowly revealed itself.

"Are you painting me as starry night?"

He stepped back to admire his work. "Like the stars, you guide and inspire me. I think it captures your spirit."

He shifted the canvas so it was flat to the wall.

"Come over here." He reached for your hand, "Are you ready? I want you to press yourself against it."

"Here?"

Sliding in close behind you he raised your arms into position, holding them up.

"Like this, right here."

His breath felt hot on your skin and your nipples hardened with his words. Gently he used his body weight to press you onto the canvas.

"Now step back to me slowly."

Pulling back, the paint had transferred to the canvas. It was stamped with starry breasts, stomach and thighs, it was you and it was beautiful. He dragged his lips down your shoulder as you stood looking at it.

"Now let's do the right side."

You repeated the process but this time you could feel him growing hard against you. His hands trailed down your sides and his lips moved warm against your ear.

"You've never been sexier."

His rumbles of admiration set your insides on fire.

"Taehyung I want you."

All the gentle brush strokes and touching had left you aroused aching for him to fill you.

"Do you need me to take care of you baby?"

He slid his cloth covered cock over your bare ass, grinding, teasing, slowly torturing your needy cunt.

"Fuck you until you're screaming my name?"

Sliding two long fingers deep inside you he held them there motionless.

Leaning over you, dominating, he growled into your ear.

"Show me how you like it, fuck my fingers like you want to fuck my cock."

You clenched immediately around his digits and he laughed, "that's my dirty girl, now use me to make yourself feel good."

Throbbing wet and desperate you used his hand to pleasure yourself. Harder and deeper it felt good but it wasn't him.

"Tae, It's not enough I need your cock."

He snickered again, "why is that, maybe you should tell me."

He reached his free hand around to pinch your nipple.

The truth was, nothing could satisfy you once you'd had him inside you. He was huge and perfect and he knew how insatiable you were for him.

"I need you to stretch me, wanna feel you against my cervix fucking me so hard."

You sounded whiny and it flipped the switch inside him from teasing to wanting instant gratification.

Pulling his hand away from your breast he undid his pants and kicked them away. His erection fell against your ass as he pressed you back to the center of the canvas.

"Right here, arms up for me."

You did as you were told as he took a stance behind you lining himself with your entrance. He could be the most generous gentle lover when needed but right now you both wanted something animalistic and dirty.

Thrusting hard and deep your whole body slid in an upward motion streaking the paint vertically onto the canvas.

"Fuck."

It was pleasure, it was pain and it was satisfying to your core.

"Is that enough for you?" His large hand feel heavy against your ass.

"Harder."

"Such a greedy little girl you are."

Another thrust and you were seeing stars. Splayed across the canvas your cheek dragged through the midnight blue acrylic.

Trying to desperately catch your breath your mouth hung open panting the words fuck me and faster while he pumped furiously into you.

His fingertips traveled from their grip on your hip to the protruding bud engorged with arousal that lay starved for attention between your thighs. He pressed and rolled your clit softly in contradiction to the rough pounding your pussy was taking.

"Tae."

His name moaned out of your mouth and it was the only signal he needed to know he'd done his job. He slowed his hips and pulled you down impaling you onto his cock until your walls convulsed around him. He held you there, still for a minute until your senses had come back and you were able to stand on your own.

His mouth hung open in a grin while his erection still stood hungry for more.

Pulling the canvas from the wall he laid it on the ground.

"I think this painting needs some pretty little knee marks on it."

"Show me where." It was your turn to tease.

He pointed where he wanted you to kneel and shoved his finger into your mouth.

"Right there, and right here," he stroked your tongue with his thumb.

He pulled his finger away and rubbed his tip around your lips.

Opening up wide for him he gently began fucking your mouth. Head was always a challenge given his size so it was never rushed.

Gingerly you wrapped your hands around him stroking the length that didn't fit in your mouth. His head was thrown back, eyes closed as puffs of air heaved from his chest in pleasure.

He was getting close, his now careless thrusts began making you choke around him.

"Fuck, sorry," he pulled back.

You kitten licked and sucked at his tip while he wrapped his hand tightly around himself and began rubbing.

You looked up at him from the position on your knees. His beautiful body was covered in paint splatters everywhere it had connected with yours

"Fuck Tae, I love watching you touch yourself."

"Yeah?" he took a long stroke thumbing the tip.

"Yeah," you could feel yourself getting worked up again.

"Lay back. "He stood over you, "Can you see how beautiful I think you are now?" His hands wandered between his legs and he rubbed his balls with one while he resumed stroking with the other. "How sexy I think you are?"

His words washed over you, arousal peaking you nipples.

"When I can't find inspiration I imagine you just like this and I masturbate thinking about your perfect tits."

Your pussy was pulsing at the thought of him in here clearing his head by milking himself.

"Can you touch yourself for me? Give my imagination something to use next time I'm stuck in here?"

You nodded, breath heavy in anticipation of cumming again for him.

"Stick your fingers in your pussy for me."

You did, moaning instantly. You were sensitive, every nerve was lit like a fuse ready to explode. Pumping your fingers in time with his strokes you were both unravelling quickly.

His exasperated breathing got louder signaling his immanent release. Picking up speed he came in warm droplets that landed on you and over the canvas on which you lay.

So turned on watching him you finished your own orgasm mere seconds after he did.

Opening his eyes looking down at you shocked he smiled, "Did we just do that?" He held out his hand to help you up.

"Yeah, I think we did." you blushed.

Grabbing a clean drop cloth from the shelf he draped it around you as you both stood looking over the painting.

"It's really not bad, I can still make out the important parts. The way the stars smeared looks intentional like their shooting through the sky."

Laughing you shook your head, "It's definitely an abstract."

"As are you," he turned you to the mirror. Painted cheeks, wild hair, dried yellow stars flaking off the skin of your stomach.

"Let's go out!” He abruptly declared. “I want to see you all messy and fucked out with the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop."

"You're crazy Taehyung, What will people think?"

"They'll think they're in Paris and that an artist and his muse just made wild passionate love in the wee hours of the morning because they couldn't stand to keep their hands off of one another."

He grabbed his coat from the corner and tied the belt tightly around your waist.

Placing his hands on your cheeks and cradling your face his lips pressed and lingered against yours.

"They'll think, that must be what true love looks like and they’ll all be jealous."

Taking leisurely steps across the bridge the quiet of dawn was only broken by the water lapping beneath you. The absence of the locks amplified the little wakes and you tried to mentally record them as one of the many new memories you'd made tonight.

Coffee in one hand and Taehyung's in the other. He pulled pieces of chocolatine from the bag tucked under his arm and fed them to you as you walked.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over the fact you don't like coffee." You took a big sip.

"It's strategic. If I had to hold a coffee and the pastry bag I wouldn't be able to hold your hand."

He stopped abruptly lightly jarring your arm.

"Hey, Did you know that right here, this is the exact spot we first met."

His dark eyes reflected the lamplight just like they did as he looked at you that night.

"You were leaning over the rail," he pointed, "right here, waving to the passengers in the boats."

"Ughh, I was such a tourist." You laughed in retrospect.

He took the coffee from your hand and set it on the base of the lamppost.

"Go pose for me, I want to take your picture so I can paint you from the night we met, I'll even add the locks back in."

"It won't be the same." You sighed, "I'm covered in paint, my hair's a mess and all I have on is your trench coat."

"You're crazy if you think I don't remember everything about the way you looked. How that loose strand of hair fell," he tucked your hair behind your ear, "and still falls over your eye. You had on that green sweater, I remember It was so soft against my fingertips when I reached out to hold your hand.”

He kissed you and whispered, "Let me have that moment again."

"You're such a hopeless romantic my love." You smiled fondly and obliged. Leaning over and looking down you re-enacted the opening scene of your meeting.

After a few minutes of waving to an imaginary boat you turned giggling. "Did you get what you wanted?"

He was kneeling on the ground a few feet away looking pensive.

"Almost."

"Do you want me to do it again?"

His smile grew as his hand reached into his pocket and he held up what appeared to be a padlock.

"No," He paused. "I want you and I to be locked together forever."

Turning back towards the rails you inspected them closely. "I don't think we can Tae, they pretty much made them lock proof." By the time you'd spun back to face him he was standing beside you.

His large hand was wrapped around the lock with only little glimmers of metal peeking out.

"But this is a magic lock. I'm going to give you the key and you're going to have to make a decision, just like when we first met." He pressed the lock's pronged companion piece into your palm while simultaneously unfurling his fingers.

"Marry me?"

Shocked floored, not even an ounce of intuition had told you this was coming. Hooked onto the shackle an enormous pear shaped diamond awaited your answer.

"Tae," your hand shook and tears blurred your vision as you moved to free the ring from it's restraint.

"Of course, Yes." Turning the key Taehyung pulled the lock apart and slid the diamond onto your finger.

Under the lamp, on the bridge in the middle of Paris it was like lightning had struck twice. You stood kissing the man who'd once again changed your life.

"But what are we going to do with the Lock?" The bridge was stark under the first rays of sunrise and heartbreakingly void of the promises it once guarded.

"So superstitious." He put the lock back in his pocket. "You're just going to have to hold on to that key until the time is right."

Fresh paint overwhelmed your senses. Guiding you with his large hands he steered you forward for what felt like forever.

"Is the blindfold necessary?"

"In order to surprise you, yes, yes it is."

He'd been working hard on his new exhibition and it had been kept tightly under wraps. One advantage of sleeping with the artist was the private advanced viewing from the curator himself.

"Are you ready?" he stilled you adjusting your angles. "Hold out your hand."

"Oh, it's an interactive piece?" you chided him. "I agree to do one painting and suddenly we're Marina and Ulay."

Placing something that felt like cool metal into your palm he slipped the blindfold off.

Before your eyes stood a huge section of railing, thousands of padlocks adorning it. Behind the rail, a life size painting, a girl in a green sweater. Leaning forward she waved, looking happy, as her hair blew softly. Her eyes naïve, not knowing she was about to fall in love.

The words on the wall named the piece, "Locked"

"Tae," a tear fell in awe at his recreation. "You made me look beautiful."

"No mon petite, you make you look beautiful. Do you have your key?"

Lifting the chain from around your neck you held it up for him.

"Let's find our lock. It was closer to the top if I recall correctly."

"There's no way? This isn't a recreation? This is the real bridge?"

He laughed, "I know what it meant to you. They were selling pieces for charity. That's what I was really doing with Camille that day. She's a broker for the auction house."

The memory of your insecurities came back in a flash and your cheeks blushed pink at how foolish the notion of him straying seemed now.

"Here it is!" He crouched down holding it in his hand, your inked initials a little worn but still visible.

Slipping your key into the new lock you popped it open and knelt down beside him. Hooking it through the original it stood out higher than the rest and you both smiled.

"You're stuck with me now, triple locked." He fiddled with your ring suddenly shy.

"I don't need metaphors to know we'll be together forever Taehyung." You kissed his soft lips. "but I really like them."

The gallery had been taken over by a hum of excitement, the air hanging heavy, was full of compliments and bids. Everyone was clamoring for the chance to own a Kim Taehyung original.

You hadn't seen the man of the hour in a while. You'd been kept dutifully in one spot regaling everyone with the romantic story behind the girl waving on the bridge.

Finally breaking away you grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiters tray and made your way to the back of the gallery. He stood by a painting you'd yet to see with an eclectic looking woman in large red framed glasses. Her bangle bracelets chimed together as she theatrically asked him questions about his work.

Noticing you moving towards him, his face pleaded silently with you to come to his social rescue.

"Ah, the girl in the Green Sweater!" She pulled you into her side grabbing and holding your hand. "Are you also The Reluctant Muse?" she pointed to the secretly cum splatterd piece.

Taehyung held back his smile, biting his lip.

"Yes, I guess I am."

"The abstract way he displayed your body, it's very sexy. You know I used to be someone's muse." She patted the back of your hand. "From the size of this ring I'm guessing you're not nearly as reluctant anymore."

Knocking back your champagne you reached for another, "I'm currently working on lowering my inhibitions."

Focusing back on Taehyung she continued, "I simply have to have this painting, it reminds me so much of my younger days."

He shook his head to reinforce what he was about to say. "Unfortunately this one has already been curated to a private collection." He winked nodding discreetly in your direction.

"Don't be silly, I'll give you $20,000."

You choked on your drink surprised while he reiterated his statement.

"I'm sorry, It's just a very special painting to me."

You had to interject, "Let's not make any hasty decisions."

Taehyung raised a scolding eyebrow, "The piece is simply priceless, I've put too much of myself in it to sell."

You smirked at his secret admission. "What if," feeling emboldened with confidence you put forth the suggestion, "we make it a series?"

Taehyung's eyes lit up as you explained.

"It'll be one of a kind, just for you madam."

Her bangles declared her excitement as she clapped. "Yes, I love that! But I have two conditions."

Leaning forward you both eagerly waited.

“I want extra splatters, I really like the way they look. And I'm going to need it finished in time for my party next week.”

Taehyung shook the woman's hand and grinned proudly at you.

"No problem, we'll start working on it tonight."

#taehyung smut #tae #bts smut #bts #Tae #V #JSFDT series #This is part 2 to an unwritten part 1 because my brain sucks

126 notes · View notes

madmilkboi · 3 years

Text

⌕ 𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗹𝗲: the perfect christmas

ִֶָ ◠ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: y/n gets to spend christmas with kuroo (im bad at descriptions okay)

ִֶָ ◠ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff

ִֶָ ◠ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀: none

a/n:i was in a rush while writing this and i accidentally posted it while editing 😬👍🏽hakshs anyways merry christmas!

₍ ♡ ₎ post-timeskip!kuroo tetsurou x gn!reader

"My idea of a perfect christmas is to spend it with you~"

You sang while fishing the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from the oven.

Tetsurou called you yesterday and happily told you that he's going to spend Christmas with you. So you immediately went to the grocery despite the annual Christmas rush and bought food and ingredients that you've turned into a feast for two.

While waiting for him, you were quietly flipping through an album filled with pictures of you and him. Your lips curved into a small smile, last year you and him couldn't even celebrate the holiday because of his work and now here you are waiting for him to come home.

You did lots of stuff to pass the time; singing, dancing, eating and watching the local shows that were shown on the television. Still the time went slower the more you looked at the wall clock.

You sighed wishing it was 6'oclock, so that you could cuddle near the fireplace with him while drinking hot chocolate.

— 5:55 pm —

You were pacing back and forth, going in and out of the kitchen checking if the food was still warm and blasting every Christmas song on your speaker.

As you were doing various activities, your phone rang, violently vibrating on the wooden table.

You picked it up and your eyes lit up in joy seeing the caller ID, it was him.

"Darling?" He called

"Yes?" You answered, a wide smile plastered on your face.

"Can you wait a little longer? I need to finish this one file then I'm all yours" he announced.

"Sure, I'll wait for you" though your voice never really changed but the way you spoke made Kuroo wish that he didn't have extra work to do.

"Thank you darling, i love you" he ended the call.

And now you were left with nothing to do, just more minutes or hours even of waiting and waiting. You silently lamented on the couch, scrolling through your phone and humming Christmas songs.

You groaned while looking at the time. "Slowpoke" you muttered. You grabbed a nearby blanket and placed the throw pillow under your head. You came to the conclusion that the best way to pass the time was to sleep.

Thoughts of you and Tetsurou having fun and cuddling near the Christmas tree clouded your mind, each scenario perfectly planned out by your brain. Slowly, your eyes started to feel heavy. The sound from the crackling of burnt wood from the fireplace and low tune of christmas songs playing from the television was enough to make you fall asleep.

—

"Wake up, darling" he lightly tapped your cheek, not wanting to wake up, you ignored him and continued with your mildly weird dreams.

"So are you going to sleep or spend Christmas with me?" He laughed at his words. His loud laugh made you wake up from your sleeping state. You shoot him a glare, irritated that your slumber was disturbed but soon irritation then turned into love and longing. You wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging unto him like a baby koala clinging to its mother.

"You miss me that much?" He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You nodded and let out a muffled giggle.

He guided you to the dining table, arms still clinging unto him. You sat at the table and smiled. "Did you just get here?" You asked while removing the plates that you used to cover the food. "Yeah" he answered, he passed you the plate and sat in front of you.

The both of you told each other how your day went, fits of laughter and the clinking and clanking of your spoons and forks occupied the kitchen. The both of you ate till your stomachs were full.

—

While washing the plates, he was upstairs changing his clothes. He immediately went down after.

His hand was carrying a small box, a gift that he really wanted to give you this year. He peaked at the living room and saw that you weren't there only the T.V. playing a loop of Christmas songs.

He walked to the kitchen and smiled, seeing the you were done.

"Hi,i have a gift" he told you.

how impatient you thought.

"Can't you wait until 12?" He shooked his head and held your hand, dragging you back to the living room.

"Merry Christmas" he passed you a small box. You let out a soft sigh and grabbed your present for him; also in a small yet rectangular box.

"Merry Christmas!" You cheered, handing him the gift. You ripped open the gift wrap and looked at the jewelry box. You opened it and saw that it was a silver necklace with a diamond pendant latching on to it.

You glanced at him and saw that he was smiling while looking at you. "How did you know that i wanted this watch?" He asked, lightly touching it. "Santa told me" you giggled.He chuckled and pointed at the necklace.

"May i?" He asked, you gave it to him and turned around. He was smiling like a kid while putting on your necklace.

"There" he muttered, you faced him and gave him a kiss on the lips. "Thank you" you were then bombarded with a big hug.

The two of you spent the night laughing, dancing, singing and eating. Yousmiled to yourself and thanked the heavens for letting him spend Christmas with you.

Let's just say that it was the perfect christmas.

🏷: @angrylittleriri @leronddesorciere @fleurdedyo @owlnymph (shoot an ask or dm if u wanna be added on my taglist! ^v^)

63 notes · View notes

beann-e · 3 years

Text

um wow , idk what to say i’m a bit flustered but i hope i say it right. I was only gone for a couple of days and this is what I come back to. 😮 Tysm guys I love you all thank you for taking the time out of your scrolls to even follow me >:’) So, I decided to follow through on my haikyu x police force idea and here it is a sneak peek! I hope you enjoy !

May 1 , 2021

-recording take one

" I am under oath to tell you that everything being said here today will be used to further the investigation against yourself. That being said If you choose to answer a question or provide a statement I will have no choice but to write it down to be processed and turned into someone of higher authority than me is that clear "

" i'd say that's a bit — well stupid to me saying yes when your the highest fish on the food chain no? "

" what else can I say except lucky you that everything you say won't be passed around and relayed much less having your words twisted by those listening "

" cute "

" i'd say same goes to you if you weren't chained up in front of me right now — I might've just asked you out on a date "

" i'm free friday at 10 — though it's in the morning so I pose the question— Would you like to sneak me from my court case baby I promise i’ll make it up to you "

" mm i'll think about it seeing as though i'm the one escorting you to your new cell anyways we might just have to have a uh a talk inside hmm"

" what no balls ? "

" sadly none —or at least physically seeing as though i'm a woman "

" I never would've guessed if it wasn't for the way that suit hugs your curves — your pretty full out huh you must be fun "

" i've gotten that before though people tend to say i’m a bit more fun elsewhere "

" aw you wound me you didn’t tell me I had competition babe “

" of course not your first in line in my eyes, it sucks that the ring on my finger says differently though "

" isn't that sweet I might just have to take you up on your offer "

" oh? didn't think you'd be so excited ,much less interested on being the first one on my list to be put in jail but, I guess i'll try my best to speed your trial up for you if that's what you want "

The rooms silence was heavy as the camera panned the room. Your fingers silently being clawed into the table as it drained all your anger from you.

Your shoe tapping against the floor with a slight grimace appearing on your face when you heard the buttons on the camera in front of you being pressed.

" what no slick comment ? " A heartfelt laugh moved to fill the once silent room as you watched small hands wrap around the camera and fix it to where it showed nothing but your upset face—fingertips slamming down one by one on the table

" don't you have a fucking job to do glasses "

" aw what happened no more flirty y/n ? "

"your an asshole— I don’t know why I expected much in the first place seeing as though you were trained under him "

" such a foul mouth — you do know this is going on your transcripts right ? " the eyes in front of you narrowing on you the voice only coming out in mock care for your situation " you wouldn't want the jury — much less the judge reading this when their deciding your sentence right ? "

Your fingers glided over the table and into a fist in front of you as your head went to look down at the table

" you've grown submissive so fast "

" I find it hard to believe you don't like that kind of thing fucking pervert "

" aw you wound me — but if I had to supply you with an answer to your question— I can imagine your dying to know since you've been flirting with a married woman this whole time "

" married? "

" I know your observant y/n you have to be " the next words making you breathe heavily " I mean the way you noticed your s/o was cheating before they could even notice themselves is just wow"

The click of the door being heard as a deep voice made its way in the room " Kiyoko your not allowed in here "

" I have just as much right to be in here as anyone else — "

" but I could’ve sworn I just said you don't — so again why the hell are you in here ? "

The room turning cold with the woman in front of you straightening herself up not wanting to go back and forth with the male in front of her but, at the same time not wanting to come across as small, being seen as a woman down here was hard much less having your own husband be relatively close to the one in charge " I came down here to test out inmate 4890 psyche"

" did anyone give you that kind of permission? that kind of clearance ? to even get down here in the first place ? "

" I mean their hidden underground so i'd say their the main event down here "

" you can't just come down here to see it whenever you see fit "

" but I was interested in the way it's mind works "

" what the hell am I an attraction at sea world? "

" your whatever the fuck I want you to be " your once strong eyes were met with brown ones that held your gaze almost testing you— daring you.

You seeing the hate swirl with annoyance meeting to radiate off of him. His face made up in a snarl as he finally turned his whole body to you.

Arms crossed across his chest eyes now lazily focused on you causing a chill to move through your spine. Youd never wanted to grow submissive to anyone and you never had not in all your years of living so why were you now?

Kiyokos eyes moving from between you to the male in front of her and back. Her body already telling you she knew something was off by the way you'd just been playful with her until you felt the energy shift by someone elses approach showing how easily your personality could changed.

Something was off and she was interested

" if necessary I can always stay and play mediato— "

" your ok " he smiled widely " we're fine together — down here "

your body shifted in the seat wrists being pulled back and down to the table by the chain in front of you when you heard his claim.

" y/n ' s good with that — their fine ive known them a long time I can speak for them — we’ve done this before countless times this isn't their first crime maybe one of this stature yes but "

" mhmm " the woman in front of you shook her head lightly before leaving the room your heart clenching tightly when you heard the door click closed

" I just wanna do my job and then i'll get out ok y/n " the fake sympathy in his voice shining through as he put down his clipboard on the table before standing behind the chair at the table across from you

" god " his voice was heavy as he spoke " it's like you get hotter and hotter everytime we see each other " his body moving around the small rectangular table " it's such a shame "

Your body tensing when you felt him nearing you only to keep going past you.

Body letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding only to restore another one when you heard the click of the camera turning off and powering down.

Your eyes darting around the room to watch him out of the corner of them reaching up to turn off the corner camera that showed the police force what was happening in the room

Not that they would care seeing as though he was chief he could do anything he wanted to you and not have to tell anyone in his unit. It didn't help that you were a world renowned criminal now you'd fully fucked this up for yourself

" crazy how your fucked yourself over " his words only confirming the thought in your head " you were only into petty crimes before so I could barely get my hands on you i'd always have to pass you over to everyone else because no one of my status ever needed to intervene — though I would've loved to— just to feel the way your face would drop anytime I entered the room or to even feel the shift in your attitude like I felt earlier— holy fuck is that powerful and now look at you "

He laughed at your body that sat slumped in your chair trying to cover your face with the cuffs on the table " pathetically sitting in a room bawling your eyes out in front of me "

His words only feeling closer now as his breath hit your ear.

Heat from his mouth moving to your neck instantly causing you to scoot away only for him to grab the back of your neck " have you no respect for yourself "

You gritted your teeth together at his hold on you " I said have you no respect for yourself "

You bit at your lip trying to decide what to say you always wanted to spit a comeback at the male but right now was definitely not the time with his heavy hand on your neck moving slowly into your hair to grip tighter

"ah every single time we do this — it's almost even more pathetic than the droplets I keep seeing falling and landing on my perfect fucking table that I bought with company’s money— fuck their gonna cut my paycheck "

His hand tightening as he spoke again " one more time asshole " his voice held all the rudeness to it " have you no respect for yourself "

" y-"

The action was quick as he slammed your head hard into the table in front of you. your vision blurring before he sighed blood dripping from your forehead and leaking out of your nose onto your lips as it trembled slightly

" ugh I hate when this happens with you —- you always bleed so fucking easily " he huffed " I ask you something you answer learn something about respect for once in your life and maybe you'll take better care of yourself "

He scoffed " your so fucking pretty and yet you do things like this — you slut yourself out in my business and then turn around and get arrested god your such a fucking ditz "

your head being brought to meet the table once again as you whimpered tears mixing with your blood brain muddied and shut down by his actions

" i'm so tired — so so tired of sweeping everything you do under the rug— I mean you act like I can’t fucking see you y/n i run the whole fucking thing I don’t— I don’t understand you your just fucking stupid so so so stupid it just blinds me and throws me for a loop sometimes "

His voice was low almost as if he only wanted you to feel the weight of his words " and then you never even say fucking sorry " he pushed your head down again " i'm the fucking cleanup crew ,, the shitty bodyguard when you drag yourself in some mess ,, the contact list when you need a plug ,, the boss when you need a job i'm fucking tired y/n "

" I know I know and i'm— im so sorry really please i'm sorry "

you braced yourself for another push as he backed away the heavy hand leaving your neck as he peered down at your head that was still hovering over the table

" what the fuck do you want another bash ?What are you doing "

" no — no please no”

" then bring your head up — god you seriously take your role on as the youngest dont you " he sighed as he moved his hands to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Your eyes darting to the camera kiyoko left and feeling hope enter your body thinking of how she would see the whole scene that’s played out with the male in front of you

" your not staying here "

" what—what "

" you can't — I dont want you here— i’m outta this your not my responsibility anymore your 19 now so I don’t know what to say except get it to fucking gether — you stay here your never gonna go to jail you'd just stay in a confined room for moths — fuck i’m always getting dragged in this shit "

" how — what do I do — what am I gonna do "

" the hell do you mean ? what am I gonna do ? as if the shits not obvious your gonna do fucking nothing while everyone else does all the work for you again "

your voice grew quiet as he scoffed " that's what I thought god — one day i'm gonna get fired "

your eyes darted to the camera and back down " for what exactly "

his eyebrows creased as he stared at you eyes moving all around your face before he spoke ignoring your question " you got yourself in some real bad shit this time y/n "

" but it wasn't even my fau— "

" you don't say shit — you know it wasn't suppose to go down like that and when one goes down we go down together you swore it— that’s how you got our trust don’t fuck yourself over again or you’ll be down in hell by yourself "

" like what ? "

" don't fuck with me y/n "

he moved to grab his clipboard your body lifting when he walked off and forgot about the camera only to drop the clipboard to the floor with a loud clang and start using his shoe to tear the papers apart

" wh-what are you doing " your voice came out soft as your eyebrows creased

His body moving over to the table and throwing the camera youd just put all your hope into someone seeing what you went through being thrown to the ground and stepped on harshly with the heel of his shoes.

Though it wasn't broken broken it was unsalvageable and couldn't be fixed your eyes going wide unable to process anything before he walked to the door and opened it his hand coming up to cup around his mouth

" THEIR ATTACKING " he screamed your body trembling at the way the table shook along with it " calling all units anyone in the vicinity the inmate I am locked up with is having a tantrum of some kind and I do not think I can handle it alone "

Your heart broke as you watched the male in front of you turn back to look at you holding nothing but hate in his eyes " I ask that you help me remove the inmate and get them out of our station immediately "

Several people running in cleaning up the scene and taking pictures before someone uncuffed you and dragged you towards the tall male by the door.

" Chief where do you want em "

" I want em on the next bus to tokyo "

Your head swirling " wh— "

" everyone exit while I talk to the inmate quickly alerting them of their next adventure " everyone moving silently to follow his demands his eyes going directly to yours as everyone raced down the hallway and away from you two

" your going to tokyo — I can't fucking do this — "

" but what would I do there's no one "

" go see bokutou — at this point you've pissed me off I can't do much else for you just — go ask for a new life really " his voice came out in a short laugh at his ending words

" boku— "

" y/n I said i'm pissed off and done with you — you keep interfering with my job and honestly this murder charge was the last strike for me— your of age now I can’t get you outta this shit— so if you could just get a new identity and get the hell away from me id seriously appreciate it "

" daichi I "

" you don't say anything "

" your my — your my brother we’re suppose to be there for each other and you "

" i'm not your anything as of right now you prick " his voice was sharp and held meaning as he snapped at uou " not your brother — your friend — your back up call when you get into weird shit I — I wanted to be a nice police officer and move my way up to chief I wanted to have kids a — a family y/n " he scoffdd " not a shitty sibling who keeps using my job against me and has me pulling strings that shouldn't even exists "

" but "

" you see how I keep cutting you off it's because I don't want to hear you y/n — you annoy the fuck out of me so seriously " he moved his shoulder to glide through the doorframe and past you "just go do what you criminal assholes do and get a new identity and the fuck away from me as soon as possible I want nothing to do with you "

" sooooo thats how you ended up with me " the air in the new room shifted from confusing to happiness as the dual colored male in front of you screamed " THATS AWESOME YOU HAVE SUCH A BADASS BACK STORY "

He jumped up and covered his face dramatically before he spoke "twas a dark night when y/n changed their ways and gave birth to a criminal — a murdering criminal who came to the one and the only — bokuto koutaro the amazingily cool , strong , funny , king of connections — thus creating a beautiful friendship and a dark and powerful villian story "

He smiled at your beat and battered face youd received from your brother a day ago before he spoke again his hair drooping slightly " too much ? "

22 notes · View notes

blushing-starker · 4 years

Text

Having a boyfriend that's a natural rule breaker becomes even more tedious because now it's two people conspiring together, itching to shatter social norms. Sure, they won't pull the fire alarm stunt to get out of a quiz (that's more Rocket and Groot's style), place mirrors on front steps to confuse Fury and nearly give the principal a heart attack (Loki with an exasperated Thor and cackling Hela) or hire a mariachi band to follow hall monitor Alexander Pierce (Steve had joined Bucky and Sam in that one); they'd never sneak into the air vents, fill them with glitter so the haughty board of directors would be covered in pink sparkles when they cranked the ac (Clint and Nat).

Ok, they did help with that last one, buying the shimmering stuff from T'Challa's sister and slipping five jars into Clint's backpack, but they didn't actually go into the vents.

But that's not the point. The point is there are limits to their rule breaking; Tony's spot on the football team and Peter's participation in the art club too important to risk on something as silly as skipping a quiz. No, they thanked their best friends, unhooked the window lock and slithered out only after finishing and handing in the quiz. They weren't amateurs.

Still, Peter knows Tony literally couldn't have chosen a worse time for their impromptu lunch date. (Luckily, he'd expected this exact situation.)

"Tony, they don't even have bad food today. We could just wait until the bell rang to meet up and eat at the bleachers. Like we always do a day before a big game."

His boyfriend swivels around, hooks nimble fingers into his belt loops to pull Peter closer, never once stumbling even while walking backwards. The grin he shows is manic, just this side of wild to let Peter know this isn't about haunting nightmares and bouts of anxiety. This is normal, too high on a feeling Tony Stark. Which means he won't head back to school unless Peter pulls out all the stops...

He's too exhausted from last night's art project to use up energy on the puppy eyes. So he sighs, tugs on the blue varsity jacket Tony loves to show off, kisses a dimple before turning this untamed creature around.

"Come on, I found a new route to that shawarma place with MJ and Ned last week." It sounds exasperated, but Tony knows Peter will do anything to keep him happy. Well. Not anything. There's only so many times they can discuss Star Wars before simply agreeing to disagree on whether Han and Luke are pan or bi.

"What, and you tell me this now?", Tony squawks indignantly from Peter's left side, freezing nose nuzzling into Peter's neck as revenge.

Like a robber caught sneaking into a vault, he raises his hands instantly before shoving Tony away.

"Hey, you were focusing on practice! If I told you, you'd bring Rhodey, he'd bring T'Challa and then Shuri would pop up and who goes where she goes? Bucky, which means Steve and Sam, who'd already be there thanks to Rhodey and of course Clint would somehow appear with Nat. We'd be together so Ned and MJ are gonna be teasing with Betty and half the guys in our grade have a crush on Nat, or MJ or Shuri or Betty or you. So what's the end result? The entire football, soccer, basketball and swim team eating shawarma a week before the games. I am not hearing Coach Coulson scold me for you guys breaking diet again. I'm already on his list, another situation like that and I'll have to run fifteen laps around the field."

"Oh come on, you can do those in your sleep." He could, but again, not the point.

"With a weighted backpack, Tony."

"Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want that."

"Before cycling fifteen laps and then swimming fifteen laps."

"Jesus, why would he even do that?" Tony looks at him then, disgruntled at the thought of his boyfriend doing all that.

He shrugs, doesn't want to explain Peter had done it once when it all got too much and he'd needed to release the pent up energy. He hadn't noticed Coach watching him, ready to come help if he hurt himself. They'd talk afterwards, Coulson making him promise to never do that alone. Now it became a reward and a punishment. Peter won the art contest? Fifteen everything to focus his mind and not go jumping off walls in his excitement.

His students wolfing down a thousand calories before a game? Fifteen everything so Peter would at least "time it so it's not during the season, Jesus". To be fair to Peter, Tony participated in almost all the sports teams so scheduling was hard.

"Listen, just don't eat a whole animal, ok? We can split it, eat enough," he glares at Tony, pushing through even as the puppy eyes come out, "and then head to the movies. They're showing Aliens for a few days cuz of Halloween and I already texted the guys to come during lunch."

His boyfriend, smart and sharp and witty, just blinks at him. "But we have class after lunch."

"Technically, but I convinced Mr Pym to let the class out of lab so we could all hang out. It's the one class we share so now the whole group can see it together."

Tony stops, eyes wide and mouth open.

"You, what, planned this?"

"Yeah, something fun before tomorrow to take it off your mind for a while. Or, you know, not make it stand out as much. I know how focused you get, and it's really great, having that as a goal, strategizing and taking it seriously. But I also know it can be a lot, so I thought we should all hang out since each of us has something coming up and we aren't spending much time together. Which I get, responsibilities and family and school; I just missed it and I can't be the only one, right? So yeah, this was planned. Like, two weeks ago. When MJ found the new route, it was like a sign. And I really want you to relax and enjoy the whole, I have friends that care for me and a boyfriend that loves-"

He slaps a hand on his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and cheeks flaming. Tony and Peter stand immobile, the world reduced to beat up sneakers breaking the simplicity of yellow lines on black, a flickering neon sign telling them the shawarma place is open and two hearts slowly starting to beat again after that confession.

Ned would say it's romantic. MJ would bluntly remind them it's a bad idea to stand in the middle of the road even if they're saying I love you. And with good reason, since there's the telltale roar of a car bursting with teenagers, voices howling out the lyrics to an AC/DC song. And of course Peter notices the noise of rubber swerving against gravel, the screeching of old brakes and a few terrified shrieks harmonizing with a sharp wind blasting into him out of nowhere. Before he can react, Tony is there, wrapping his arms around Peter and shoving them both into the little patch of grass that grows from a crack in dirty pavement.

There's a moment where his whole world flips, tumbles until he screws his eyes shut and prepare himself for whatever the fuck caused that noise. But nothing comes. Only a sigh blowing a stray curl away from his forehead. But a sigh? Why would?

Tony.

He gasps, jolts upright and apologizes when that just serves to jostle his boyfriend further into the ground. His boyfriend who'd flip them so Peter wouldn't be hurt. Tony is peering at him through half shut eyes, discomfort clear on the grimace he tried to transform into a sheepish grin.

"So, you love me, huh?"

It's the stupidest thing Tony Stark has ever said.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, you could have shattered a wrist, dislocated a shoulder, torn an ACL, bent a leg-"

"This is not what I expected. Also it was a three foot leap forward on grass, I'm fine, Peter."

"Or bashed your head, or busted an arm and then what would you do for the game tomorrow? Who the hell does that?"

"The guy you love, apparently."

"That's not the point, Tony, that's unimportant because you nearly got hurt. Christ, Coulson will slaughter me if there's a scratch on you, and then your mom would be sad and I'd be sad because, what would I do without you? And don't you ever do that again, I can't take it. I am not losing you, Tony. God, why would you do that, risk so much on-"

"On you? Babe, I'd do it again. Ok, not the right thing to say based on the whole face thing you got going on right now. But just hear me out. Don't, stop hitting me, ow, why are you hitting, how are you this strong, Jesus. Ow, stop it. Peter, for fuck's sakes, I love you, you animal. Now please let go of the jacket, it'll get wrinkles."

His hands unclasp the soft cotton, Tony falling back with a groan and Peter's unhinged jaw snapping shut after fifteen seconds of letting the flies in.

It's a wonderful thing, hearing the guy he's loved for so long say it back, say he loves Peter.

It's also fucking stupid since there's even more reason to not do stunts like that.

"You're an idiot. I'm in love with a guy that has one shared brain cell with Steve. You could have been hurt, Tony. And what would that have done, huh?"

His boyfriend sighs yet again, wraps an arm around Peter to push them from the ground and heads to the car where their friends are gawking. He waves them off, offers a "Yeah, I know I'm amazing, no, I didn't break anything, T'challa, yes, I can play, Jesus, Rogers, I can read you like a book. I appreciate the worry, Bruce; Nat, thanks for calming him down. Rhodes, excellent driving. No need to hog the seats, Sam, we need to settle in. Peter, you can keep cursing me out if you, yeah, see how it's nice being fun size when you fit in my lap in a car full of people. What, I'm not walking after that, I don't care if it's til we reach the parking. Let's go, Rhodes. Pepper, I'm fine. "

Clint offers a high five. Tony responds and that's that. Out of sight, Ned gives him a fist bump and MJ keeps on reading her book. It could just be his imagination, but Tony's sure she's smiling, approval clear on her face. He preens, glad to have her blessing, and settles his head on Peter's fluffy hair.

-----

When they're all laughing in a booth, smashed together and picking food off of everyone's plate, Peter nuzzles the crook of his neck, holds his hand and squeezes it. Tony smiles, lights up and shoves at Sam's face when the trio of best friends tease him for puffing his chest out when his boyfriend ever so softly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too." The table whoops and calls for another round of food and Coca-Cola, their family grinning at them and fondly teasing the new couple. Tony grins back, high on this feeling of warmth and happiness and safety and love.

And then Peter presses ice cold lips onto his neck and he lets out a shout, pain coursing through him when a knee slams into the table. His eyes water and through the haze of agony he sees their friends exchanging cash, some grumbling and others smirking. Rhodey and MJ, he notes, are the ones that win the most. They high five before pocketing the cash and ordering dessert.

Peter kisses his cheek, smile innocent and eyes wicked. It's his own fault Tony snatches an ice cube and slips it below his Nirvana shirt. He only has five seconds to lord his victory over Peter before there's ice cream being smeared on his cheek. They battle then, accidentally sending food into Wanda's lap, Clint's hair and Bucky's face.

In less than a minute they are all covered in shawarma and participating in the fight. Peter shrieks when Tony pulls him into his lap, gets chicken on the varsity jacket and tries to wriggle away. But Tony kisses him, tastes ice cream and joy, thanks whoever decided to give him a break and find this incredible person dozing on the roof of the school with Ned and MJ one spring afternoon. Peter kisses back and, at the same time, they say, confidently, honestly,

"I love you."

This is dedicated to @drarryismyshit07

105 notes · View notes

impaladolan · 4 years

Text

Capture - Grayson Dolan [ae]

summary: somehow, someway, y/n was rescued from her enstranglements and open to the world again..

warnings: lil smut & swearing!

a/n: sadly, this is the last part of capture :( i hope you enjoyed this little series! ily, mwah💕

later note: this is now an alternate ending, i am continuing this fic!

part one, part two, part three.

In the moonlit hours of the night, where the nocturnal animals are out and about, the slight creak of a door radiated through the room of which you lie awake and sleepless in. You didn't dare to move, but rather freeze. You held your breath and squinted your eyes towards the door, where a shadowy figure entered with ease and quietness. "Are you awake?" The shadow of a man calls in a whisper, edging nearer and nearer towards you. You decided not to answer, internally preparing yourself for whatever was to happen.

You had finally given up.

It's been presumably a month since that fateful morning run that lead to where you are now, stuck in a house you've barely ventured. You felt disgusting and a far different person from who you once were before. It's been a week since you've showered, to ward off the man you've named asshole. You've gone blank, almost mute. You haven't talked in days and you don't plan to. But what looks to be a man, in the dark, in front of you had altered your motives. "Y/N, I've come to take you home. We don't have much time." Hands begin to shake your shoulders as the unfamiliar voice awakes you from your thoughts. "How?" Your voice comes out raspy, breaking a fresh load of tears that you haven't been able to cry in days. "Come with me, and be quiet." He orders as he pulls your hands to help you out of bed.

He presses his fingers against his lips, faintly saying "It's okay," to calm your overwhelming nerves. He leads the way, opening the creaky door just enough for the two of you to escape. He smoothly walks down the hall, with you following suit, and through a couple rooms until he opens another door, leading into a garage with an already started black car. He quickly opens the passenger seat and lets you in, waiting until you're fully seated before softly shutting it. You quickly buckle your seatbelt as he jogs around the front and into the other side. He seats himself and immediately backs up once the garage door is opened.

This can't be real.

You begin to pinch yourself, letting your tears run down your cheeks as you giddily smile, watching as you pass the wire fence and roll down the entirely too long driveway. "I'm sorry." The man, who you've not given a good look at yet, muttered. He didn't look at you, but he kept his eyes on the road and quickened his speed. You didn't respond, because you have nothing to say exactly.

"It's not my brothers fault, I promise." He gives you quick glance, his striking features an awfully good resemblance to asshole. "Then who is at fault!?" You felt your anger arise in you, but you hiccup and sniffle afterwards, clearing the fury-filled facade you were trying to encapsulate. "I've been trapped in a room for a month, sexually assaulted, malnourished, and taken away from all the people I love without an explanation. So tell me, who was it?" You asked, a hurt in your voice like the man had never heard before. He felt himself almost shed a tear at your words, shaking his head.

"He was forced to, by our leader. I can't give you names or details Y/N, but I must ask you not to press charges. I'll reimburse you with whatever kind of money you want, but if you fucking snitch, we're all dead. Including you, understand?" The tone of his voice caused your sniffles to hush and your eyes to bulge. Before you could answer, you feel his car halt and the view of your house, seemingly untouched, outside the tinted windows. "Grab your things, shower, and get back out here as quickly as possible." He demanded unlocking the doors and following you up to your doorstep.

You didn't question anything, grabbing your spare key from under the doormat and bursting into your home, the recognizable smell instantaneously calming you.

Wow.

You missed this place so much. All the pictures and nicknacks placed strategically around the place. You wished to lay on you sofa and squeeze all your pillows and smell all the smells that were so homely, but the man hurried you, standing guard at the door as you did all the things he asked, starting with a well needed shower and a change of clothes. After packing up things that you thought you'd need, you follow the man back to his car and hop in, waiting for his words. "Where's your nearest relative located?" He openly questions, starting the vehicle and beginning a slow drive, opposite to how he drove before.

"200 miles away, in a grave yard." You answer monotonously, staring straight ahead. "I figured, since there wasn't any search warrants out." He mumbled under his breath, though you heard. Your hearing had increased very much so throughout the entirety of a month, as well as your sneakiness you'd guess.

"Is there a place you can stay for the next week?" He furrowed his brows in question giving you his full attention the moment he stopped at a red light, where no other cars eerily surrounded. The moment he asked that question, your mind immediately went to one of your closest friends, whom you met in college and have stayed in touch with for the most part. Well, all except for an entire month. "Yes, drive to Belmont. I'll give you directions once we get in the city." You direct with a nod, pulling your knees to your chest and closing your eyes softly.

It's gonna be a long ride..

"Please, Daddy, I'll be good!" You beg as you watch him look over you with a wicked grin, his large hand stroking his erected length. You had your legs spread wide open, ready for his touch and warmth— whatever he could possibly do to make you feel good.

"Good girls don't run away." He sternly said, with what seemed to be an angered chuckle. His cold, merciless eyes beamed right into your own, his signature smirk dancing on his lips. He grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach with an ease, his hands softly gliding up and down your back. His fingertips alone sent core-aching shivers down your entire spine until your back was arched to his liking. His index finger traced a line all the way down your backside until it delved into your incredibly drenched pussy, shooting a foggy sense of mentality to your brain. He toyed with your folds, inserting two of his fingers at a relaxing slow place that made your stomach twist and turn with glee. You let out a couple sheer moans to yourself, basking in this quick moment of sensation before it turns to dust.

He continues his motions, gliding his other hand further up to caress your breast while he leans his mouth up towards your ear to lowly whisper; "You'd like to have this, wouldn't you?" You bit your lip with a happy sigh as his skillful fingers pick up a little speed, nodding your head for a slight yes to answer his question. "Words, sweetheart." You gasp when you feel his lips connect to your neck, his harsh sucking creating a slight difficulty to speak, as he wanted you to. "Yes, Daddy, I'd love to." It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd cease all of his orgasm creating actions just at your words.

"If only you didn't run away, you could've gotten what you wanted." His gruesome chuckles startled you, making you whimper with need. You look behind to see him licking his fingers with a smile, a smile you'd never forget.

"Y/N, wake up we're in Belmont." The man taps your arm lightly as his soft and soothing voice wakes you from your gut twisting slumber. You felt your entire body shutter with desire for more, and you felt a pooling within your panties.

Did you just have a wet dream about a kidnapper?

You caught your breath and blinked your eyes to get acquainted with the newly risen sun, trying to regain your memory. "What were you dreaming about? You kept saying daddy and shit, kinda hot." He gave you a suggestive smile as he chuckles, all the while your face burned up with embarrassment. You were almost annoyed— no you were peeved that he had woke you up from an amazing, imaginary sex marathon. "Nothing much, just fucking your brother." You shrug with a blank face, a hollowed chuckle emitting from his throat. "Ouch, women." He continues his small laughs, turning into a gas station and sliding right next to a pump.

"What do you want for breakfast?" He asks, getting out of the driver's side with a yawn. "To piss." You yawn as well, leaning back in your seat to stretch.

"I'd let you, but you'd probably make a run for it or something." He twists his body around, letting it breathe rather than being crunched in a car any longer. "Fine, a hash brown." You quickly answer, your mouth watering just to the thought. He nods, shutting his door and locking the vehicle twice. Once he's inside, you quickly scribble something on a random envelope, placing it in his seat before looking in the backseat for your bag. You quickly grab the straps and put your arms through the loops. With one last look at the man, who seemed to be getting your desired hash brown, you open the passenger side door and sprint as fast as possible before he'd notice the cars alert system sounding.

You run as fast as your legs could take you, keeping up a solid pace until you're in a recognizable neighborhood. You could still hear the car's endless beeping, which gave you hope that you'd finally be—

Free.

Thank you, for helping me escape. I've decided, within the few minutes of planning my escape as well, that I will not bring any of this up to the police, as I probably should. Yes, I was held there against my will, but I can't say I was exactly unhappy. So with that being said, never contact or try to find/kidnap me ever again. I will carry this baggage for the rest of my life, don't make it worse.

good riddance,

Y/N Y/L/N

(masterlist)

30 notes · View notes

just-my-fandom · 5 years

Text

Embrace (Billy Hargrove x Reader) SMUT

Only 120 more followers until we reach 1k AHHHH

I included a little smutty part for someone who requested, yes youre welcome I know, im amazing. So this requires a mature warning oop

Warning; smut 18+

Tagged (I literally had to write the entire list on paper so I wouldnt forget anyone lmao); @irreplaceable-ecstasy @avocadoesatlaw @rexorangecouny @fraeppuccino @shane-isa-shame @teenwolflover28 @buckysjuicyplums @lcgaf @ahoy-ladies-67 @itsfangirlmendes @tellmyselfies @xkotkuu

_________________________________________

"Can you at least tell me whats going on?"

Your house is silent. Your parents have gone on a business trip almost a week ago, and wont be back for another two, leaving you charge of the house, leaving enough money for food every day and personal needs,

You lean against the wall of your living room, finger twirling the phone cord tangled around your arm mindlessly,

"I'll explain when I get there," Billys voice is quiet, a shout in the background from Neil causing you to jump, "Just- wait outside for me?"

You sigh, rubbing your eyelids tiredly and nodding, remembering he cant see your actions, "Yeah. See you,"

Pressing your phone back to the wall, you shrug on the jakcet hanging on the rack mear the front door, and youre glad you dont have to stand in the cold too long, Billys '79 Camaro pulling into your driveway,

"Mind telling me why the hell Neil was so pissed off?" You walk up to his car, arms crossed as he stands up, closing the door behind him. Thats when you catch his gaze, his cheek bruised and his nose busted with blood,

"Holy shit," You grab his arm, tugging him into your house and pushing him near your kitchen so you could close and lock the front door, "What the hell happened?"

"Its my dad," Billy pulls off his jean jacket, dropping it on the back of a kitchen chair, "Max ran out of the house and I was apparently held responsible for it,"

"So he beat you?" Your hand grabs at his jaw, turning his head side to side to examine the wounds, "Fucking asshole,"

Billy chuckles at your mutter, leaning back into the kitchen counter to watch you open the medicine cabinet, pulling out alcohol and bandages,

"And that," You stand on your toes, pressing a alcohol damped cloth to his nose, "Is why youre staying here tonight, let him cool off,"

"Was already planning on it, sweetheart," Billy places his hands at your waist, watching you wipe away any remaining blood from his nose and patch a bandage to his cheek, "Like I got my own personal nurse,"

"Dont think you got it easy Hargrove," You set the cloth to the side, hands at his torso, "I'm still pissed you called me at almost," You glance at the clock on the wall, "One in the morning,"

"Good thing its summer," Billy leans down, his large hand guiding your face closer to his. He pauses, lips hovering over yours, and you grin, leaning up so your lips pressed to his roughly,

"I have a diagnosis," You hum against his mouth, pulling at the buttond on his shirt, "You're in desperate need of immediate treatment, and Im just the girl you're looking for,"

Billys hands curl at the back of your jeaned thighs, lifting you up and turning to sit you on the counter behind him,

"My hero," Billy mutters, leaning back long enough to tear off your shirt, throwing the fabric behind him, hand sliding under your bra strap, shoving it down your arm so his lips had access to the exposed skin,

"This wasnt planned, was it?" You breathe out into his ear, fingers fisting at his hair,

"This is never planned sweetheart," Billy pulls you forward so your pelvic meets his, his hips rutting against your covered area between your thighs, "But Im feeling much better now,"

Your hand raise to his face, thumbs drawing across his cheek bones, eyes searching his for any rejection in your action,

"You know your father loves you, deep down," You whisper, sliding your hand to the back of his neck and allowing him to drag his lips down your neck, "Hes just stubborn, like you,"

"Youre really pushing it, babydoll," Billys hands press at your inner thighs, slowly drawing them apart, "You dont know how hard Im trying not to take you on this counter,"

"How uncomfortable," You tease, leaning away from his touch, "Carry me to my bedroom?"

"The couch is closer," Billy swiftly eases you into his arms, walking only a few steps before dropping you on the couch, crawling over you for better access, "Now, try not to disturb the neighbors this time, yeah?"

"No promises," Your head falls back, knocking the armrest in time for Billys hand to slip through your jeans, finger pressing to your panties,

Your eyes fall shut, chest meeting his in an arch when his middle finger slides past your folds, allowing you to swallow him,

Your mouth drops in a moan, Billy looking up from where his hand worked to meet your eye's, free hand drawing to your mouth,

"Shh, baby doll," Billy curls his finger, your gasp blocked by his palm, "Ive got you,"

"Guess your nose doesnt hurt anymore, huh?" You choke out, grinning as he rolls his eyes and draws his hand back, forcing it forward,

"Time for me to pay my medical bill," Billys fingers loop at your jeans, tugging them down and tossing them over his shoulder, hands lifting your thighs so his lips could brush at your stomach,

"Youve got a big bill, young man," Your eye's pinch shut, Billy chuckling and pressing his lips to your sex, sucking roughly to add pressure,

You gasp, loudly you note, hands reaching for anything and ending at the cushions, brain fuzzy when Billys tongue presses into your folds, your juices settling at his tongue,

"So sweet," Billy lowers your hips, hands pulling at his belt buckle to give you time to catch your breath, "I should have came sooner,"

"Your father did you a favor," You sit up, backing him against the couch and settling into his lap, lowering yourself into his pulled member, "A nurse must care for her patient,"

Billy chuckles, hands resting at your hips to roll you forward, his lips parting to release a low groan when your clit finally touches the tip of his dick,

"Gonna ride me, baby girl?" Billy settles his lips against your hair, his pants loud in your ear,

Your head falls onto his shoulder, whimpering when he reaches balls deep, and, throwing your head back, you raise your hips, forcing them back down to meet his thrusts,

"Holy-" Billy grunts, jaw clenching as his hips rut upwards, smacking into your pussy, "Shit, sweetheart, never seen you take me like that,"

Your hands slide away from his neck, whining into his skin before your hands grab at his torso, forcing your lower body to quicken their pace,

"Billy, shit," Your eyes pinch shut, the rough smack from skin to skin echoing against the walls, "I'm gonna cum,"

Billys groan rises in volume, both arms tightening at your lower back before his hips sputter, slowly to ease You through your high,

He hums into your ear, hoarsely, raising your hips off of his to gently lay you down, grabbing a tissue to wipe your lower area clean,

"I think Im cured," Billy winks, your smile tired as you laugh quietly, pecking his lips slowly,

"Good. But that was just half your medical bill,"

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy smut #stranger things spoilers #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things

2K notes · View notes