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delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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streamofcolor · 2 years

Text

My Girl- JTKxreader

wordcount: 668

synopsis: Jake isn’t a very emotional person. He finally breaks down his walls to show you how much you mean to him.

warnings: fluff, cursing

disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. I do not know JTK nor any member of GVF

taglist: @sweetboitom @joshkiszkas @sarakay-gvf @doodle417 @lightmyluv @theweightofstardust

Jake was never the type of person to be attached, and you knew that. To be honest, you never were either. Of course he took you on dates, you slept in the same bed, but there wasn’t any cutesy shit with one another.

Jake sat on the bed as you curled your hair for the surprise date he had planned for the both of you. It was your anniversary, and he did this “surprise” every year. The past three years were just dinner and a movie, but you really enjoyed it. He’d take you to your favorite restaurant and the both of you would watch whatever movie had been newly released.

You turned of the curling iron and ran your fingers through your hair, separating the curls. You sprayed hairspray, hoping that the curls would stay. You turned off the light after looking at yourself one last time in the mirror. You’d chosen a cute and simple black dress and paired it with a reddish-brown suede jacket.

Turning toward the bathroom door, you spied Jake waiting for you. He took you into his arms and kissed the tip of your nose. “Beautiful, as always.”

“Stop, you’ll make me blush.” You smiled.

“I can’t help it. You’re always stunning.” He said, kissing your cheek.

He took your hand and the both of you headed out of the house. Jake drove past the restaurant, making you wonder what he had prepared. “Where are we going? We’re not doing dinner?” You asked.

“Oh, we are.” Jake said, sneaking a look. “You’ve just got to be patient and see.”

The sun began to set as he pulled off the highway onto a single-lane road. You chuckled as you had a funny thought.

“What?” Jake asked.

“Oh nothing.” You laughed again. “Just wondering if this is where you’re taking me to kill me.”

“As if. I couldn’t live without you by my side.” Jake said, resting his hand on your thigh.

A bit further down the road, the pavement turned into gravel. You peered our your window, trying to find any sign of civilization as the road turned into an incline.

“We’re here.” Jake said, pulling off the gravel onto grass.

You looked around and saw a blanket on the ground. Jake opened your door for you. You got out and stood on the tip of your toes to see what was waiting in the distance. Jake pulled out a basket from the trunk, carrying it in one hand, holding your hand with the other.

As you arrived at the picnic area Jake had set up, Jake sat the basket on the ground. He sat down on the blanket and started unpacking the basket. He had packet a bottle of your favorite wine and a charcuterie board.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t make this.” He laughed.

After your dinner, Jake connected his phone to a Bluetooth speaker. He played a soft instrumental playlist.

Jake looked into your eyes and stared.

“What is it, Jake?” You asked.

Jake grinned. “I’m just so in love with you. I know I haven’t shown it so much, but I can’t express how much I love you. You are my biggest inspiration, my best friend, and damn, you are my soulmate, Y/n. I’m so happy and I wouldn’t change a thing. The sunset isn’t as beautiful as you.”

“I love you, too Jake. You are my everything.” You smiled.

Jake paired his lips to yours and eased you down to the ground. You began to pull away. “Jake-“

“Shh. Don’t pull away. Not yet.” He interrupted, deepening the kiss.

The kiss lasted a long time, but felt like just a second. The stars in the sky twinkled above the both of you as the darkness surrounded you.

“I love you.” Jake whispered.

“I love you, too.” You replied.

You laid your head on Jake’s chest and cuddled close to him.

“I still can’t believe it. You’re mine.” He sighed.

“All yours.” You say, smiling into his chest.

“My girl.”

#greta van fleet #gvf #jakey #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake x reader

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marginalmadness · 3 years

Text

Summer Nights: Chapter 1/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Teen (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Warnings/Tags: None right now, will add with additional chapters

Author’s Note: So the beautiful, wonderful, ever patient @johobi commissioned as we went into lockdown the first time, and it took me forever to write, and ended up being about 4x longer than I expected because, feelings and plot kept getting involved. Anyhow, the fic is finished, but with NaNoWriMo this month, and my already teasing this, I’m releasing this in 4 chapters, as I edit it, the next one will be next Friday, so I hope you all enjoy this, I got some wonderful comments from @johobi and she made this WONDERFUL HEADER <3, and I hope you all look forward to Chapters 2-4

Chapters: Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.3K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

Summer Nights

The weather report this morning said nothing about rain. Not a shower, not a sprinkle, and even now, as you check your phone for the thousandth time, there’s no indication of the storm that is currently darkening the sky over the entire city.

You fight your way out of the subway station, pushing past people rushing down the stairs out of the deluge. As you clamber your way up through them and onto the street, it feels like you’re pushing against a wall of water.

You curse yourself and the umbrella that sits serenely dry and unused under the side table by your front door. Because according to the highest-rated, “most accurate” weather app available, it was supposed to be nothing but dry, sunny spells through the end of the week and staying warm and dry over the weekend.

You dash across the road, taking a shortcut through the park, hoping to find some relief under the canopy of trees but somehow the drops feel heavier under the leaves. Cold rivulets of water run down your neck, under the collar of your coat, completely defeating the purpose of you clutching it closed.

You’re halfway home when, as suddenly as it started this morning, the rain stops. You look up through the branches and the sky is miraculously clear, dappled sunlight falling across your face as birdsong suddenly fills the park, nothing but dripping leaves and ground puddles to indicate the previous weather. This must be the sunny spell that was previously promised.

You wipe your hand across your face to remove some of the hair clinging to it, but since your hand is as wet as everything else, it’s a losing battle. There’s just as much water on your face after wiping it, and strands of hair are now just pulled across your forehead rather than limply clinging to your cheeks. You sigh, readjusting the strap of your bag and hoping the contents inside aren’t as soaked as you are, when for the second time in less than a minute you are stunned to another stop.

Before you is a tiny, shivering, soggy ball of fur.

You could swear it wasn’t there a second ago, but it’s possible it darted out from under one of the surrounding bushes and you startled it as much as it, you.

Crouching down, you reach a hand out towards the small creature, which lifts its head, twitches its nose and shuffles towards you. It’s hard to tell under the sopping wet fur, but it doesn’t look like what you’ve seen of regular wild rabbits. Its fur is darker, but that might just be an effect of the rain. It also seems longer, but again it’s hard to tell when wet. The biggest giveaway that it’s no regular wild rabbit are the two long, floppy ears that hang down either side of its head, dragging along the path as it moves towards you.

“Hey cutie pie,” you say in as soft a voice as possible while shivering from the wet and the cold. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The creature makes a full hop towards you and sniffs at your hand, and you’re almost 100% sure it’s a rabbit and not a hare. You slip your other hand beneath its tiny body and stand, clutching it to your chest. You wait to see if it’s going to resist or fight but it only snuggles into your coat. “Okay, let's get you home and dried off, and then see if we can find your owner,” you say, scratching its head gently.

Almost as soon as you tuck the tiny creature under your coat, the rain starts again, skies grey, water coming down in sheets as though it never stopped. You run the rest of the way through the park and across the road, not minding that you step into a puddle since your feet are already so wet. You barrel your way into your apartment building, stopping to catch your breath as you wait for the elevator.

As soon as you’re through your front door you carefully step out of your shoes, drop your bag and shuck off your drenched coat, vowing to come back and clean them up later. You’re so soaked your clothes cling to you, as though you weren’t wearing a coat at all, and you hit the thermostat on high as you run past on your way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t we get you all nice and snug in a towel? Let you warm up while I take a shower, hm, little buddy?”

Grabbing a hand towel, you carefully wrap the trembling creature in your arms, rubbing the wet fur carefully before placing the bundle in the sink and stripping down to jump in the hot shower.

The hot water stings your chilled skin the instant it makes contact, but it warms you up quicker than waiting around for your apartment to heat up or hiding under your duvet would. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around yourself and notice the small rabbit has its eyes closed. You pick it up in its bundle, and it seems to blink in alarm at being moved.

“Awww,” you coo aloud. “Did the warm steam lull you to sleep, lil’ bun?” The rabbit looks up at you and then closes its eyes, nuzzling back into the towel covering it. You carry it into your room and place it on your bed before changing into something warm and snuggly and drying your hair. By the time you’re all done, the bunny has fallen asleep, curled up in a little cocoon of warmth.

You head back towards the front door, picking up your coat and moving your waterlogged shoes into the bathroom. You pick up your bag and hope your phone was buried deep enough inside to escape water damage. Luckily, all of the contents inside seem untouched and you send a prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over you to pull that one off.

Grabbing your phone, you quickly search for a local vet that’s still open, hitting ‘call now’ when you find a decently-reviewed one. You kneel at the foot of the bed until you’re eye level with the fluffy, dark-furred rabbit. It watches you with curiosity, whiskers twitching as your face gets closer to it.

“Hello, Park Place Animal Hospital,” a tinny voice says pleasantly through the phone. “Eric speaking, how can I help?”

“Hi,” you say cautiously. “I found a rabbit in the park, and think someone might have lost it. It doesn’t look like a wild rabbit.” Maybe it was a wild rabbit, you argue with yourself; you’re not exactly a rabbit expert.

“Can you describe it to me?” Eric asks.

“It’s got long, dark fur; black or maybe dark brown? Seems… fluffy?” you say with uncertainty. “It was drowned-looking when I found it in the storm, and it’s wrapped in a towel drying now. But its ears are long and floppy. Really long. Really, really long,” you emphasise.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Well it certainly doesn’t sound like a wild rabbit. Possibly a member of the lop family. It could be a lost pet, but are you sure it’s not a hybrid?”

That stops you. A hybrid? Never even crossed your mind. Why would a hybrid stay in animal form in a storm and let a stranger take them home?

“I-” you stutter. “I don’t know. I’m a mundane, I don’t know how I would be able to tell.”

“Well, scent is the easiest way to tell, but you wouldn’t be able to use that as a mundane and it’s a little late to bring it into the clinic. You could talk to it, ask it some questions.”

You frown down at the bunny. Maybe you were missing something. “I don’t speak Bunny.” You could hear Eric holding back his smile over the phone.

“But hybrids understand human speech,” he says, holding back his laughter. “Assuming you speak the same languages.” You purse your lips, eyes glancing around the room, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” you say. “The bunny-hybrid-whatever is wrapped in a towel on my bed and I’m kneeling on the floor at the foot of it.”

“And what is the ‘bunny-hybrid-whatever’ doing?”

“It's-” You look at the rabbit and are a little taken aback to realise it’s watching you, head raised, nose twitching inquisitively. “-watching me.”

“Okay, unwrap it and leave the room. Tell it, if it’s hungry, to follow you to the kitchen. If it’s a hybrid, it will understand and follow you.”

You blink owlishly at the creature, before nodding in determination. “Okay.” You unwrap the towel and move to the doorway. The bunny watches you leave.

“I need to make dinner. If you’re hungry, follow me. I have some veggies you can eat.” The bunny stands up on its hindquarters, giving itself a shake until its fur is sticking up in funny-looking spikes. It jumps down from the bed and lops after you as you walk towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Eric on the phone. “I promised the bunny veggies, and now it’s following me into the kitchen.”

“Congratulations, you have a hybrid-rabbit in your home.” Eric laughs. “It’s late now, we’ll be closing soon, but if they haven’t turned by morning you can bring them by the clinic and we’ll be able to either issue a T.o.C or take them in until we can find out where they came from.”

“T-O-C?” you ask slowly.

“Treaty of Care. Hybrids who stay in their animal form for extended periods of time need special care. It’s usually infant or adolescent hybrids born in animal form who haven’t turned for the first time yet, or hybrids hurt in animal form who need to heal before they can transform back. A Treaty of Care is usually served to a close friend or family member, but it can be anyone.”

“Even a stranger?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and looking down at the small creature by your foot. It looks up at you with big, dark eyes.

“If they didn’t fight you when you first picked them up, and they haven’t shown any signs that they want to leave, then they feel comfortable with you. At least for the time being. So the decision seems to be yours. Think about it tonight, and come in tomorrow.”

“Will do. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mutter, biting your lip and shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“No problem, have a nice evening,” Eric says politely.

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up the phone, motioning with your head towards the kitchen. “There’s apples in there.” The bunny-hybrid zooms off, hopping towards the kitchen, and you let out a little giggle at its enthusiasm.

Once there, you head to the fridge and pull out what you need to make yourself dinner, plus some extra veggies for your unintended guest. You dump them and the promised apple into the sink, making sure to give them a good wash before you start chopping things into rabbit-convenient pieces. A gentle pressure against your calf stops you, and you turn to find the long-eared bunny leaning against you as it stands on its hind legs, either trying to get a better look at what you’re doing or begging for a snack.

“Are you nosey or impatient?” you ask, and the hybrid drops to all fours before hopping around your feet. You lean down to pick it up, placing it on the counter next to you and offering it a slice of apple. Its tail—no, its entire body wiggles in appreciation as it munches on the apple slice, nibbling away with its eyes contentedly closed. You finish chopping the veggies and place a selection on a plate, setting it in front of the hybrid. The bunny hops high, kicking its back legs in excitement before diving into the pile to devour it.

With a tentative finger, you reach out to scratch behind the rabbit’s ear. To your relief, it doesn’t recoil. Encouraged by this, you settle your hand on its head and gently stroke its fluff. The hybrid leans up, nuzzling its face into the palm of your hand. You smile appreciatively, tickling the rabbit’s chin before you turn to cook your own dinner.

---

The rest of your night you spend relaxing, curled up on the sofa watching TV. The hybrid decides to join you, settling at the opposite end away from you. Normally you wouldn’t allow a pet or an animal on the furniture, but it’s not really an animal and you’d feel bad forcing a guest to sit on the floor if there was space on the sofa. You’re second-guessing your decision, though, when the rabbit expresses opinions on your choice of entertainment, nudging the remote when it wants you to change the channel and thumping its feet when it sees something good. You spend a good twenty minutes having a one-sided argument with a creature that communicates through nothing but foot stomping and nose twitches before you come to a consensus: a superhero movie that you never got to see in the cinema. You drop the remote and the rabbit hops closer to you, shuffling into a loaf by your feet. Like that, the pair of you spend the night watching six unlikely heroes and their friends save the world from total destruction.

---

Your first real, big conundrum is when you go to bed and the little ball of fluff follows you, jumping onto your comforter.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous, you are not sharing my bed,” you try to say forcefully, but the surreal nature of what's happening makes your tone just a little bit hysterical. The hybrid simply lowers its head to the comforter, making itself smaller, lopping closer to your hand until it’s nudging it. It wiggles its head beneath your fingers. “Is this you asking for permission? No! Off! Down! Off the bed!” The creature shimmies its fluffy tail and doesn’t move an inch. “I know you can understand what I’m saying, and it’s weird,” you whine. The tail-twitching stops. Big, dark eyes blink up at you as it sits up on its haunches, front paw waving at you like it’s trying to grab you.

You can’t help but feel you’re in a pouting contest with a rabbit.

“Fine,” you huff, flopping back on the bed dramatically. The hybrid lops towards you and you turn to watch. Fluff obscures your vision as it boops you gently on the nose, and you laugh at the tickle of its fur. You shuffle under the comforter with a yawn and turn off the lamp. “Okay. Tomorrow, when I get your Treaty of Care, I’m picking you up an animal bed. This is only for tonight, because you’ve obviously had a stressful day, so don’t get used to it.” The second you say it, you know it’s a lie. You’d lose a pouting contest with that bunny every time.

---

Ten weeks later, the rabbit now has a side of the bed.

The side of the bed where his animal bed sits unused on the floor.

The vet had given the hybrid a clean bill of health, identified it as a young adult male and given you a T.o.C for as long as it wanted to stay with you. Or until you returned it. But that would never happen.

Somehow you’d just fallen into a routine; breakfast for the both of you, rushing to and from work, changing the litter box, dinner for two, TV in the evenings. And now somehow, suddenly, it’s summer. Gone are the spring storms that brought the two of you together. Now you have the stifling heat and humidity of the peak of summer.

All the windows in the apartment are open and have been for at least a week. You don’t even sleep with a cover anymore, just collapse on top of it in the flimsiest two-piece that can cover your modesty. Honestly, even that feels like too must most nights, sticking to you in the humidity. It’s so hot that the hybrid - who you had simply called “Bun” for lack of a better name - no longer lay close to you, but far on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his side, ears akimbo. The city desperately needed a storm to break the humidity.

Half way through summer, you get your wish. You flinch, even in your sleep, as the room fills with blinding, white light. The crack of thunder that immediately follows is explosive in the silence of your room thanks to all the open windows. The storm startles you awake. Turning away from the window, you bury your face in your damp, sweat-drenched pillow, just as the gentle roll of heavy rain starts to beat against the heated concrete city.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask in a sleepy, raspy voice as you reach for the small creature. But where you expect to meet soft fur, you meet soft skin, solid muscle coiled tight beneath it. It takes a second for your brain to register the foreign sensation, before your head snaps up and your eyes open. You’re used to sleeping next to a small rabbit-hybrid, but in its place is a very naked young man, curled in the fetal position. His large, terror-filled eyes stare at you.

You scream, scrambling off the bed and across the floor to press your back against the wall. The naked man shrinks in on himself when you yell, curling himself into a tighter ball. You can see just enough of him over the edge of the bed to spy a long, floppy ear drape over one of his arms.

“Bun?” you ask in a breathless voice. He lifts his head, and those eyes—those large, round eyes are just as dark as they were when he was a rabbit.

They’re the same.

He moves up onto his hands and knees, crawling cautiously across the bed to peer down at you. His fingers curl over the edge of the mattress, long ears dangling either side of his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers in a soft voice. He’s still tucked in on himself like a loaf, like he would sit when he was a rabbit. You can hear his foot tapping against the mattress; he’s agitated. “I woke up like this a little while ago, before the storm was over the city. I guess it scared me into transforming back.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, finally getting a handle on your breathing. It’s not everyday you wake up with a naked man in your bed…or any day recently, if you’re being honest.

“You’ve had trouble sleeping because of the heat. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Your heart aches. You knew the hybrid living with you was friendly and sweet-tempered, but hearing it makes it difficult not to reach out and pet and coo at him like you regularly would. There’s just enough light coming in from outside for you to see him bite his lower lip in the darkness. Your heart pangs again when you notice that he has bunny teeth even in his human form.

You shift, getting to your knees and moving closer to the bed. The hybrid doesn’t stir, still huddled in on himself, floppy ears falling each side of his face. They blend seamlessly into his long, dark, wavy hair. His eyes are impossibly large, as dark as the night sky, and reassuringly familiar. Just over his shoulder, down the slope of his back, you spy a fluffy tail twitching at the base of his spine. Resolutely, your eyes snap back to his face.

“That was very kind of you,” you say softly, watching his face spread into a warm smile, front teeth prominent and pressing into his bottom lip.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” he practically whispers, and you smile in return, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. You don’t know if it’s appropriate now he’s no longer a rabbit.

“Do you have a name?”

“Jungkook, but you can keep calling me Bun, if you want. I like it,” he says, louder this time. Confidently. And you decide, screw it, you’re going to pet him. But then thunder crashes again, bright light simultaneously filling the room, and for a single, breathtaking moment, in the stark light of the storm, you take him in.

And he is absurdly beautiful.

Jungkook ducks his head. Curling into himself, one of his feet taps incessantly against the bed. You reach out, threading your fingers through his soft, chocolate brown locks until you’re rubbing his head, fingernails scratching lightly.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook, you’re safe. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Slowly, he raises his face; eyes searching yours. “Treaty of Care, remember.” You give him a small smile. Jungkook leans forward then, pressing the tip of his nose into your cheek.

You still.

He used to do this all the time as a rabbit. It’s normal behaviour. Your research told you hybrids behave similarly to their animal counterparts. When in animal form, that is. You never expected it in human form.

His nose skims across your cheekbone until he’s rubbing it against yours. You can’t help but sigh at how incredibly intimate the act feels, and Jungkook must take that as some sort of sign, because the next thing he does is gently caress your lips with his. If it weren’t for how focused his eyes are, gauging your reaction, you might write it off as an accident. But then he does it again.

You pull back suddenly, shaking your head as though to clear it. “Let me get you something to wear,” you say, climbing to your feet and closing the blinds on your way to your draws. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but these are some old sweats.” You throw them to him on the bed, turning back to find him a shirt; something loose. You dig out an old t-shirt you won in a radio contest.

“Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You turn around, extending the shirt toward him and short-circuiting when he stands at his full height. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his sculpted abdomen. All of him could be cut from marble. You stare, open-mouthed, as he shuffles foot to foot, awkwardly rubbing his elbow.

“Is that for me?” He asks finally, motioning to the garment in your hand. You nod, holding out the t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a radio station you don’t ever recall listening to. Just as he takes it, thunder claps again and brightens the room and his arm flexes, dragging you into his personal space before you can release your hold on the fabric. His chest heaves, breaths coming heavy.

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep tonight and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” you say softly, going for the bed. Jungkook just nods and moves towards the door. “Where are you going?” you ask, laying a hand on his arm.

“The sofa.” He ducks his head, ears hiding most of his face. “I didn’t think you’d want me sharing your bed anymore since—” he motions to his human form.

You swallow. It’s loud in the quiet of the room. “Is that why you stayed a rabbit for so long? So I’d let you stay?”

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes; you can see him biting his lip again. “Kind of,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. “You were so kind to me when you found me. I was scared you’d want me to leave if I transformed back, and I wanted to stay for a little while.”

“Why?” you ask softly. “Didn’t you want to go home?” He smiles, but it looks embarrassed, his nose scrunching.

“No, not yet,” he says meekly, dipping his head. He hides behind his chocolate brown waves and long, floppy ears. “Going home is… it’s complicated.”

You lean forward, carefully reaching up to brush one of his ears aside so you can better see his eyes. His ear twitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead looking at you with all the stars of the cosmos in his eyes. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” you encourage with a soft smile. “There’s no rush. I’m also not going to make you sleep alone when you’re scared,” you say, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the bed. But his face is hopeful, so you can tell he’s only asking out of politeness.

“There’s plenty of space. And besides, you’ve had weeks to hurt me and you haven’t. I trust you.” You let go of his hand and clamber into bed.

Jungkook perks up and slips the shirt hurriedly over his head, inside out and obscuring those perfectly sculpted abs. He scrambles over the mattress to his usual side of the bed, a buck-toothed smile all over his face. His human form is impressively built, but somehow, when his head hits the pillow and he curls into a ball, he looks almost as tiny as he did in bunny form.

You lay facing him, watching him carefully. His eyes are huge and flitting between your face and the window, like he’s waiting for another crash of thunder. You sit up, reaching down to where your thin blanket had been kicked out of the way when the heatwave started, holding it up, your meaning obvious. Jungkook immediately shuffles closer, curling into your side and burying his head under your chin. It startles you for a second, your entire body going stiff, but you take a deep breath and wrap an arm around him, willing yourself to relax. You thread your fingers through his soft, brown locks, caressing his head the way you did when he was still a rabbit.

And before either of you realise the storm has already passed, you drift off together into restful sleep.

Next Chapter

#Jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook Fluff #hybrid!Jungkook #Jungkook Smut #Jungkook x you #Jungkook x reader #Bunny!Jungkook #Jungkook Fic #BTS Fic #MarginalMadness #commission #MM Summer Nights #Summer Nights

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nashibirne · 3 years

Note

Hey lovely! Sorry I missed your milestone post! Firstly CONGRATS! You deserve it and so much more!!! 💖 As there's a milestone celebration in my house today, what about celebrating a milestone anniversary with Henry? I'm all up in my sappy romantic feels 🥺💖 LUV YA x

I'm still answering the asks I got for my milestone celebration 🥳 So today I have another prompt based one-shot for you!

Thank you so much for your ask, Lauren and for your sweet words! I hope you still crave a little fluffy romance because that's what I tried to put into words, but most of all I hope you're going to like and enjoy this and you find yourself represented in my story.

Nostalgia

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Lauren

Words: ~ 1.3 k

Summary: It's your wedding anniversary but you have to work and that sucks, doesn't it?

Warnings: RPF, fluff

UNBETA'ED! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Disclaimer/credits: I neither own Henry Cavill nor do I know him. This is pure fiction. Pics for the header from Pinterest

My Masterlist

And now... enjoy the ride!

******

It could have been a great day, a perfect day. A trip to Plymouth, a major task your boss entrusted you with, a really important article you were about to write for the lifestyle and culture ressort you'd joined only a few weeks ago as deputy editor. If only it hadn't been exactly this day, the day of your five years anniversary with your beloved husband.

You leaned back in your seat with a sigh, closing your eyes, the rattling sound of the train that was taking you to Devon soothing your nerves a little.

Henry had been nothing but understanding when you told him you would be away for your anniversary. He had been disappointed for sure, you were easily able to tell by the look in his eyes, but he was the most supportive partner you could ever imagine and so he was genuinely happy for you that you were given this great opportunity.

"It's going to be fun, darling. You'll spend a whole day in a theme park and get paid for it," he had said with a grin. "We can celebrate our anniversary the next day, it's not a problem."

Of course he was right, it was no big deal, whether you had a romantic anniversary dinner today or tomorrow made no real difference, but you couldn't help the feeling of missing something tonight.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for being so unprofessional and ungrateful. Get your act together, you thought and that's what you did. You did your job and it turned out soon that Henry was right, it was a fun day.

The theme park that was about to be opened the following weekend, was called Nostalgia and it was really great. Old-fashioned and high-tech at the same time, the magic of the-good-old-days combined with the thrill of modern rides. You and the other journalists who got invited to the exclusive pre-opening had such a good time, trying all the fairground attractions -the rollercoasters, tilt-a-whirls, a log flume, a beautiful vintage horse-carousel, different chairoplanes and a more funny than spooky ghost train. You watched some shows, from stunt action to musical performances, and enjoyed some delicious treats at the candy booths. The only downer was the fact that the huge, historic ferris-wheel hadn't been opened yet. It was so beautiful, a real eyecatcher, being the geographical center of the park as well as the visual highlight.

When you and your colleagues were waiting for the shuttle busses to bring you back to the train station at the end of this exciting day, you were already busy with writing the article in your head. Unfortunately you were interrupted, when the park director approached you, glancing at your name badge.

"Mrs Cavill, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you please accompany me?"

You looked at him with a frown.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing to worry about, just a tiny problem with your accreditation. A formality. We just need you to sign some paperwork, so if you'd follow me to my office…?"

"But the bus," you said in a weak attempt to avoid any complications.

"There's plenty of time," the man answered with a friendly smile. "Please." He gestured to you to follow him and you gave in with a sigh.

When the ferris wheel came into sight you stared at it in amazement. It was beautifully illuminated by thousands of little lights that created a very romantic atmosphere, and to your big surprise it was even slowly turning.

"I thought the ferris wheel hadn't been opened yet?"

The director turned to you with a conspiratorial smile.

"Well, we may have given a special permit to someone to use it exclusively tonight."

"Really?" You were confused by his words and he grinned, pointing at something. When your gaze followed the direction of his gesture you gasped, covering your mouth with your hands. Henry was standing by the entrance of the ferris wheel, wearing a tuxedo, his hair neatly done, his blue eyes shining bright, smiling lovingly at you.

It took you some seconds to recover from this welcome shock, but when you were able to breathe and think again, you started to run straight into the arms of your beloved husband. He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground with ease, before putting you down again to press a sweet kiss on your brown hair.

"Happy anniversary, darling."

His whispered words that resonated softly in your ear, sent pleasant shivers down your spine. You looked up, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. Your lips met and the kiss was brief but deep and passionate, your tongues tasting desire and anticipation in each other's mouths.

"Happy anniversary, baby", you answered with an ecstatic smile, still equally surprised and confused, "but what are you doing here?"

"Whisking you away for a ride on the big wheel, of course," he said with a grin and you couldn't help but laugh out loud with happiness and excitement.

"How the heck did you manage to do that?" You hugged him, snuggling up against his broad chest, inhaling his scent that was so fresh and tangy. Henry wrapped his arms around your petite body, making you feel safe and sound.

"That has to remain my little secret, darling," he smirked and you chuckled at his attempt to wink at you.

"So hop on, my lady."

Henry bowed down before you, gesturing expansively in the direction of the gondola, being the dorky guy he just was and who you loved so much.

When you entered the little cab you were truly amazed. It was furnished with two upholstered benches and a small table, but what made your heart skip a beat and your eyes go wide was the fact that it was decorated with so much loving care. There was an elegant white cloth on the table, candles that illuminated the tiny space, crystal champagne flutes and a huge bottle of Moët & Chandon, strawberries, filled chocolates and the little truffles you liked so much.

You sat down and Henry took the seat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you close.

"This is incredible, baby. Such a great surprise," you told him with a grateful smile, visibly touched.

"I'm glad you like it, baby girl."

He kissed you and you laughed out loud in unison, when the wheel started moving, causing the gondola to rock slowly, making you and Henry bump into each other.

Besides the jerky start the ride was very smooth and the wheel kept on turning slowly while you and Henry enjoyed the fantastic few over the park, the delicious treats and the sparkling champagne, cuddled up to each other, sharing uncountable loving glances and kisses.

Just when you thought the night couldn't get any better, the cab stopped at the peak and music started to play softly from invisible speakers. You realized immediately that it was Secret Garden by Bruce Springsteen. Your song. The song he had kissed you to for the first time. The song you had danced to on your wedding day, surrounded by your families and friends but still feeling like being the only two people on the planet. The song you had made love to so many times.

You beamed at your husband, unable to say anything, tears welling up in your blue eyes, Henry loved so much. You cupped his face with your small hands and kissed him tenderly, your lips expressing your happiness and gratitude better than a thousand words could have. After making out for a while, completely lost in the moment, Henry pulled away, leaving you breathless and aroused. He raked something out of his pocket and placed it on the table right in front of you, covering it with his hand.

"What's that?" You wanted to know. "Another surprise?"

"An additional one," he grinned, lifting his arm, revealing a plastic card.

"Is that a key card?"

"It is," Henry nodded. "The key to an exclusive suite in the best hotel in town. We'll go there tonight and we won't leave it all weekend."

"Really?" You teased him with a cheeky smile. "What are we going to do in there all this time?"

"I'll show you," he said with a smirk, slipping his hand under your skirt, sounding the bell for the smuttiest weekend you'd ever experienced.

**********

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke @littleone65 @coloraturadiva @cynic-spirit @captainbucky-yt

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #milestone celebration

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Everyday

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader, Rafael Casal (as Miles Turner) x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + , RPF. CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE IF YOU READ BELOW THE CUT. Cursing, drinking, allusion to smoking weed, fantasy, truth or dare, role play, SMUT, Graphic Depictions of Sex, oral sex (M/F receiving), a lil bit of bondage, established relationship, fantasy play.

A/N: I have no idea what is for trade in prison; sex packets are a made up joke. And I’m really into 90’s rap this week. Anywho, this fic is in response to the following request:

Anonymous asked:

Rafa!!!!! Maybe a fluffy smut where he’s role playing Miles for you? 👀

-------

“Ok, Dare.”

You steeled yourself from the query from Daveed.

“Which fictional character, real or animated, would you like to bone?”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Real or ANIMATED????”

You were cracking up laughing and buzzed, feeling good surrounded by your crew of friends who were family.

“Ok, I will answer both.”

Rafa cleared his throat and settled back on the couch beside you.

You sat up straight and he watched the curve of your breasts underneath the Oaklandish tee you stole from him that morning.

“Rafael is getting swole! Don’t worry Rafa. She will still come home to your everyday ass.”

“Shut up, Ant. You always got something to say.” You rolled your eyes. “Everyday with Rafa is amazing.”

You leaned over and kissed Rafa’s lips, which were in a slight frown. He didn’t like that word, ‘everyday.’

“You good?” You whispered so only you two could hear.

He smiled at you, “No doubt. Answer the man’s question!” Rafa said a little louder, bravado on fleek.

“ANYWAYYY.” You shook your head at him as you straightened up. “Max could get it.”

“Max who?” Jasmine was confused. Then she realized, then leaned over Ant and Rafa to give you a high five.

“Max Who???” Daveed was curious.

“Goofy’s son. Max.”

Everyone erupted in laughter again. Daveed got up and took the bottle out of your hand.

“Enough of this.”

You battled him, jumping up and swatting around D’s head. You won your drink back and sat down.

“As far as ‘real’ fictional characters…” You took a drink. And smiled. All eyes were on you.

“Miles Turner could rearrange my guts.”

Anthony groaned. Rafa sat up straight. You took another drink .

“For Real. Ruffnecks kinda do it for me.”

“Gotta who? Gotta have a what?” Jazzy started rapping. You replied.

“Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck.”

You two started dancing, rapping and singing with your drinks in your hands.

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

I need it and I want it so I gotta get a ruffneck!

Rafael pulled you down to sit on his lap and Jasmine kept dancing, right in front of Anthony.

Anthony sucked his teeth, but was smiling at Jazzy’s ass.

“That’s cheating. I mean. That’s just Rafa. I mean, he bones you on the regular.”

Ant smacked Jasmine on the bottom and took a drink before she plopped down next to him and he put his arm around her.

“You know it!” Rafa and Anthony toasted.

“But I ain’t Miles.”

Rafa took another sip of his Abasolo on the rocks.

“And it’s just a fantasy. Right baby.”

Rafael rubbed your back giving you a look that made you tremble. Rafa felt your warmth on his lap. He grinned into his drink.

“Trueeee!”

You smiled, trying to keep it light and calm the fuck down. Everyone always made fun of you two smashing in people’s bathrooms.

“You aren’t Miles. I didn’t know you when you were younger....”

You locked eyes with Rafael, and the green fire there did something to you.

“I think Rafa is Miles’s wasted potential.”

“Wow. That’s deep,” said Ant from a cloud of smoke.

You and Rafa were locked in an eye embrace as well as a physical one. When he arched his eyebrow, you had to look away, because you couldn’t take it.

“Y’all need to use my bathroom?” More laughter.

You and Rafa both flipped Daveed off.

“Nah, Diggs.” Rafa stood up with you in his arms. “We’ll use our own. We out.”

Your man carried you willingly out of the door.

-----

About two weeks later, you came home with some groceries, you were looking forward to a night in with Rafa.

You’d both been busy and tired lately, only available for maintenance sex.

Rafa was running around creating all of his creative shit, and you worked in the writers room of a popular series. Life was hectic.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands together on top.

He was wearing blue scrubs over a white Henley and had his face turned to the side, staring out the window. You noticed that his hair was different.

“Hey, babe. Did you get a haircut? What’s wrong?”

He turned his face toward you and that’s when you noticed two more things. Rafael’s eye was black, and there was a tattoo on his neck.

THAT California tattoo.

You were very concerned and a little confused. Concern came first in your mind.

“What happened to your eye?” He gave you a strange look, then he spoke.

“A mutha fucka sneaked me in the yard, that’s what happened!”

You stood still and had to register what was happening.

Rafa was wearing a grill, and his voice was different, in a lower register and with a long drawn out, almost southern drawl.

But it wasn’t southern. It was all Bay.

He stood up and walked toward you, and you noticed that his scrubs had “Prisoner” written in yellow letters down the right leg.

You suddenly realized what was going on.

Oh, Shit.

“Baby. You’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a minute.”

You’d left Rafael in bed this morning. But it seemed that you came home to Miles.

“Hey,” was all you could say.

Rafael/Miles gestured for you to come over to the table. It was then you saw that he was handcuffed.

A strange feeling came over to you. He stood up, and you saw that his legs were shackled. You went close to him and looked at his eye closely.

“Rafa?”

His face was fine, up close, you could tell it was makeup.

“You been to see Galaxy today?”

You were peering at his neck and the Bay/California tattoo there.

He screwed up his face.

“Who tha fuck is Rafa? And what the hell you talking ‘bout space for?”

He peered into your eyes, then looked around furtively.

“Babe. Are you high?”

The drawl was a whisper now.

“These muthafuckas’ll kick you out if they think you got drugs on you.”

You smiled at him, pecked him on the lips and replied.

“No worries. I’m not high.” You sat down at the kitchen table and ‘Miles’ sat across from you.

“As for Rafa? He’s this guy I know. Had a nice… conversation with him the other night.”

You looked into his eyes to see if he would crack. But your man was a pro.

He huffed. “Psshhht. You MUST be high talking to another dude. What kinda name is Rafa anyway. Sounds like some hipster trash.”

He peered at you again, anger radiating off of him.

Damn, he was good.

“Tell me what the fuck you mentioning some other muthafucka to my face while I’m locked up in here! Every day.”

He pounded his bound fists on the table in front of you and made you jump. It also made you wet as fuck.

He gestured with both hands (because they were handcuffed) to the nice kitchen that you loved to cook in, but that you were now seeing through his performance as a prison visitation room.

But you were still shook.

“R, R, Rafael is a beautiful artist. He’s a poet. He’s gentle, and kind. And a wonderful lover.”

Miles glared at you. You stuttered again.

“I-I imagine.”

He gave you a menacing smile and leaned back in the chair, pushing his crotch up in your direction. Your eyes were drawn there.

“So you imagining fucking another muthafucka and decide to come visit me and tell me about it?”

You got into it.

“Well….I miss you Miles. But it gets hard. Not being able to be with you.”

He leaned forward, bearing his teeth.

“Don’t fucking tell me about it. Here I am jacking off with leftover chicken grease from the kitchen at night. Got my dick smelling like a Popeye’s chicken sandwich in this bitch.”

“Ew,” you said, disgusted, then you started giggling at the joke.

Miles pouted and sat back.

“ ‘S not fucking funny!” He looked out the window again.

“I shouldn’t even tell you about the surprise.”

You straightened up. “What is it babe?”

You put your hand on his and he caressed yours with his thumb. He looked at you, excited and mischievous now.

“I got us a conjugal visit.”

Your mouth dropped open, fully into it now.

“But I thought that was just for married couples, Miles…”

“I know, I know.” He leaned forward and looked around again. “But I got me a side hustle.”

He shifted his eyes as he scanned the empty room.

“I make sex packets outta the leftover chicken grease from my job in the kitchen. Make a KILLING in oatmeal cream pies, ramen noodles, cigarettes and other tradeable currency. I made enough to buy us a conjugal visit, girl.”

He leaned back, very satisfied with himself, his hands now on his lap, rubbing his crotch.

Your eyes were drawn there again and you found yourself irrationally wondering how big his dick was. He had you caught up in this fantasy.

“Let’s go to the trailer and I’ll make you forget all about this Raja guy.” Miles winked at you.

“It’s…” You saw the look on his face. “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

He stood up again, and shuffled his way to the bathroom, you at a safe distance behind him.

He entered the bedroom and shuffled to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He gestured you to him and you went and stood before him.

He put his nose in your crotch.

“MMMmmmmm. I missed your smell Baby. It’s been too long. He lifted his hands and put them on the insides of your thighs. He pulled back and looked at you, green eyes staring into brown.

“The guards left the key over there. That is, if you wanna get me out of these.” He nodded toward the

He trailed his hands up to your pelvis, managing to hook one set of fingers into your waistband and still have another at your apex.

He ran his fingers over your jeans right where it counts. This kind of petting felt good and made you want more.

You let him play for a little while, but then pushed him back to sit and watch you.

You peeled down your jeans to reveal a white satin thong. Rafael loved white against your coffee brown skin, but tonight, Miles would benefit. You stood there in your button-down shirt, that was really Rafael’s.

Miles’s hands went to his crotch again as he eagerly watched.

“You seem to be doing pretty well all hemmed up, but let me see.”

You went to the dresser to retrieve the key, and you did, then turned around and put it in your mouth while you slowly unbuttoned the shirt.

Miles leaned back on the bed and opened his legs as far as the shackles would let them go, licking his lips as you disrobed.

You were wearing a white lace bra, your dark nipples and areola straining through the delicate material. You were very excited at the entire scenario.

The fact that Rafa was doing this for you because he remembered what you said on a drunken night weeks ago was the shit.

You dropped to the ground and crawled over to Miles’s feet jutting your ass up in the air as you unlocked the shackles.

You massaged his ankles and trailed your hands up his legs to his crotch, where you rubbed the hardness there.

“It’s been so long that you’ve been locked up, Miles.”

You raised up on your knees, loving the feeling of his eyes sweeping over you.

“I’m gonna give you the world’s best blowjob.”

Miles smiled at you.

“Aw, baby. That’s so cute.”

“I’ll show you cute.”

You were about to give your own performance.

------

Five minutes later, you were gargling his cock, relaxing your throat and taking him as deep as you could, nose nestled at his base, and gently pulling and kneading his balls.

Someone moaned, and you didn’t know if it was Rafa or Miles. He bucked his hips up into your mouth while resting his cuffed hands in your hair.

“As much as I would love to … fuck baby… cum down your throat.. I need that… damn where’d you learn to do that?!... I need that pussy. Unlock the cuffs, baby.”

His cuffed hands were in your hair, alternating between massaging your scalp and pulling your hair the way you loved it.

The way Rafael invented.

You smiled around his cock with the knowledge that what you were doing was making him slip out of character.

You pulled your head upward, mouth open, allowing the saliva to trickle out with his dick.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe how nasty you were being. He was mesmerized. You looked a mess, eye makeup running, lipstick smudged, spit all over your face.

Your dream man loved it.

“Am I ‘cute’ now?”

“Fuck no. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You smiled and quickly reached behind you and unclasped your bra, taking your breasts in your hands and pushed them up around his dick.

“See, if you unlock these cuffs, I’ll handle things the way they need to be handled.”

You just smiled up at him while you manipulated your breasts around him, knowing that he could not control his hips fucking into your cleavage.

“I got it under control.” You stuck your tongue out to tease his tip as it neared your face, lubricating it with your saliva.

“Fuck, baby. I wanna fuck you so bad. It’s been so long…”

This entire scene was just about the hottest thing ever. You were breathless, dripping, and quivering with anticipation. But you didn’t want it to end so soon.

“How long ‘xactly?”

“Shit, 5 months of being here and jacking off to memories of you everyday. I need to see that ass and fuck that pussy, babyyyy. Please.”

Those eyes.

Those words.

The acting.

Miles.

You had to relent.

You reached for the key where you dropped it on the floor and unlocked the cuffs.

“Fucking finally!” Miles rubbed his wrists as he stood up, stripped his shirts off and his pants the rest of the way.

“On the bed, let me see that ass up.”

He smacked it about three times each and then rubbed it as you did as you were told.

Miles trailed his hand from your ass up your spine to your shoulder and then pushed your head down further into the bed.

“That’s a girl.” Your back had that perfect arch.

He got behind you and swiped his hardness up and down your slit, teasing you with the head of his dick.

He grabbed your hand and brought behind your back, and very swiftly the other, and before you knew it, your hands were cuffed behind you, head in the bed and Miles was entering you swiftly.

“Fuuuuck! How does it feel?”

You couldn’t speak. The thrill of Miles’ dick inside you and being cuffed had you ready to cum already.

His stroke game was on point, as if he was fucking you to a brand new rhythm- Allegro.

Strangely, it was different than Rafa had ever been.

That was blowing your mind.

Miles tugged on the metal restraints and the slight pain in your shoulders and wrists, combined with the thrill of this roleplay, made you release, all over him and the bed.

“Shit girl, you really are glad to see me.” That drawl got you ready to peak again.

“Oh fuck yeah, Miles, oh shit, oh shit.” Your pussy was clamping down on him at the thought of Miles Turner having his way with you.

“Shit, I’m cumming with you, hold up.”

Rafa tried to slow down, but you did that thing with your pussy and he couldn’t help it. His hips drove his dick inside you until it pulsed and started to flow, and then he pulled out.

“Turn over baby.”

You leisurely moved to turn over, and he motioned you down to the end of the bed, moving the pillow where he wanted your head.

“I need in between those legs, baby. I need to see you, I need to surround me with you.”

You positioned yourself at the end of the bed, your braids hanging over the edge.

Miles gave you a forehead kiss as he got between your thighs, and pumped himself a couple of times as he aligned with you.

He leaned down and pulled at your nipple with his mouth, moaning when you moaned, moving his eyes appreciatively down your body and keeping his eyes where you were about to join.

The look on his face when he entered you was very hot, and you found your pussy squeezing his cock in appreciation. It seemed magically somehow bigger, and all of your senses were alive as he started moving.

“That’s my beautiful baby. You’re so fucking tight. Don’t push me out, let me have the glorious pussy. Damn girl, this pussy, those thighs, your curves, these tits. What did a man like me do to deserve you. You’re such a fucking sweet princess for me…”

You were astounded. Missionary was far from your favorite position because you seldom came that way, but the way Miles was whispering praise in your ear and the total fantasy was getting you there.

Quickly.

He watched your face and adjusted his pace in response to your cries, and that knowledge made you start to come. When your eyes rolled back in your head, that’s when he knew.

He pulled your hair back and sucked the shit out of your neck as you came, and he released inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and held him as he shivered with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Your lover rolled off of you and you snuggled into his arm. He lay there and held you as you tried to process.

“That was… wow.” You weren’t sure who to address, Rafa or Miles. Irrationally you felt you were in love with both.

He just chuckled at you, and gave you another forehead kiss.

“I’m going to enjoy a shower. Goodbye for a while, baby.”

You grinned. “Bye Miles.”

He pecked you on the lips and you watched him go into the bathroom.

You rolled over on your back and tried to organize your thoughts. How would you write this?

Thoughts of writing this scene chased you into sleep.

---

You woke up to Rafael, grill and tattoos gone, freshly out of the shower and in a towel, gently trying to pull you from sleep.

“C’mon.”

You let him get you up and into the bathroom to a hot bath. You let him tenderly clean you up and then get you out of the tub and dry you off. You were more tired than you thought.

“You hungry?” You walked into the kitchen in a towel behind him.

Rafa had put the groceries up and was holding up takeout menus. He was truly magical. You smiled, nodded and told him what you wanted.

45 minutes later, you were in his softest Oaklandish tee and you were curled up on the couch in the living room together, food containers spead out on the coffee table.

You felt totally in sync with this amazing man.

“I loved tonight.”

He smiled softly back at you.

“Had to give you your fantasy since you help me live mine. Every day.”

He leaned over and kissed you. He looked you intensely in the eyes. Those green pools had you trapped.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rafael.”

Your fantasy had been Miles, but your reality was Rafael.

And that was fantastic.

Everyday.

-------

Tags:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @janthonystan-blog @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @einfachniemand

#rafael casal #rafael casal x reader #bay boys #jasmine cephas jones #jasmine x anthony #rafael casal angst #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #rafael casal fluff #rafa imagine #rafael santiago casal #rafael casal smut #blindspotting starz #Blindspotting #miles turner #Daveed Diggs

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megumi-stan · 3 years

Text

|Soothe Me | M.F x Reader

A/N: It’s Soft Megumi hours! This was supposed to be a NSFW piece, but it was just so sweet i didn’t want to take the story there and distract from his loving and overall caring energy!

All characters are aged up in this story! Also, quick reminder that I’m open for requests :)

Dedication: Thank you so much @timewehad for sending such a sweet ask! You definitely motivated me to finish this thing i started a few days ago and completely forgot in my drafts!

Fighting curses for a living had a price. Besides the constant endangerment of your life.

Sore muscles.

Every time you bent down to tie your shoes, seven different muscles pulled painfully and at least ten vertebrae locked in place, forcing your body into a struggle to straighten itself. If you could walk just looking at the floor without it being weird, you wouldn’t bother to endure the hell that came with a straight spine. If only you had eyes in the top of your head like some of those slimy creatures you fought regularly, your life would be ten times easier.

After one particular busy night, your bed was calling your name. Busy in the sense that little weak curses kept popping around every corner nonstop, like a wicked game of whack-a-mole, only without the hammer. If you had one of those at hand, you surely would feel a lot less stressed. Something about smashing things was an exceptional way to relieve pent-up frustrations.

Walking up to your bed proved to be an arduous task, with your stiff legs and trembling muscles, but slowly you made progress. Your chest felt like it was about to cave in from exhaustion as you were slightly aware of the shower running and Megumi’s soft voice mumbling the lyrics of some cheesy 80’s love song he unexpectedly knew the lyrics of.

The soft comforter brushed your legs when you got to the bedside, and with no grace flopped down face first into it. You tried to kick off your slippers, but failed terribly as they refused to let go of your feet, so giving up you just left your legs dangling off the side.

Megumi’s sweet singing and the storm outside was a perfect recipe for sleeping, and right at that moment sleeping was all you could manage. Lulled, you drifted off into the place between dream and reality, still slightly aware of everything going around you but too busy making up fictional scenarios where you were laying on Megumi’s chest as a soft warm breeze ruffled your hair and the smell of ocean drowned the smell of coffee that lingered in your bedroom.

“What are you doing?” The fog dissipated, and suddenly you were face to face with your boyfriend.

Megumi had gotten out of the shower and was crouching down on the floor. A soft smile curved the tip of his full lips and amusement glinted in his eyes. Your eyes scanned his face and traveled lower, to the sharp curve of his jaw and the smooth skin of his throat. Drops of water still clung to his bare chest and glistened under the warm light of lamp resting on your bedside table. He looked like one of those greek gods you often appreciated in old paintings, all hard muscle but with a peaceful aura surrounding him, looking like he was a minute away from growing wings and taking off into the sunlight.

You hummed in acknowledgment and turned to your side, ten different vertebrae and a shoulder blade popping in the process. You winced, eyes drifting shut at the sharp spike of pain followed by the bliss of relieved pressure off of your nerves.

“Well, that sounded painful...” His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair out of your eyes and they lingered on your cheekbone, tracing idle circles on your skin. “I’m assuming work was a pain on your ass, huh?” Leaning in, his mouth lingered above your brow for a millisecond before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. His breath tickled you and warmth blossomed in your heart.

He got up and walked to the pile of clothes resting stop of a chair in the room’s corner. Your eyes followed his figure and never once blinked as you took in his graceful strides and the patch of pale skin often hidden by his pants, but now on full display because of the towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. He always complain about the word “beautiful” every time you used it next to the “you are”. He would argue non stop, stating you were just trying to boost his ego, but you never once found another word to describe him, and somehow you still felt that Beautiful wasn’t enough.

Not even the other girls gawking at him in the streets and shamelessly flirting while you, obviously his partner, stood next to him seemed to prove your point to Megumi. You couldn’t even be angry at the flirts. He was a sight worth of painting, framing, even adoring. He could be a god disguised as a mere mortal for all you knew, and even that would make more sense. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be as breathtakingly beautiful as he was.

Even casually standing and just roaming through the pile of clothes, he made your stomach curl with something hot and heavy. The muscles on his arms flexed and his shoulder blades moved underneath his skin, doing very interesting things under the dim lights that had you hypnotized, eyes glued to his back and taking in everything they could, committing every single dip and crevice to memory. You could barely breathe while looking at him.

As if he could have felt your eyes on him like a caress, Megumi looked at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk tilted his mouth and a small barely noticeable dimple appeared on his cheek. Your muscles tensed at the sigh, suddenly too hot and bothered to relax when it was obvious he was evening something. The glint in his forest green irises was a dead giveaway.

Sighing intently while his eyes never once left your form, he loosened his grip on the towel. The white fabric slipped across his legs as it came undone and landed at his feet. Traveling the distance your fingers twitched to travel as well. He was sideways, showing you his profile as he grabbed a pair of loose black sweatpants. His well-defined thighs were teasing you, seemingly mocking you along with the deep V on his hip. His position was so that nothing too inappropriate could peek, and you were never awakened as fast as in that moment.

He slipped the pants on, managing not to flash you in the process and came right by your side, the smell of spice and pine from his deodorant enveloped you in a hug as he, in a sweet action that had your belly feeling funny from the amount of butterflies fluttering around, took off your slippers, his fingers casually brushing the arc of your feet and triggering chills down your arms.

“Thank you...” You muttered, turning to lie on your back. Another joint popped, but you couldn’t feel which one it was. Megumi Chuckled at this and shook his head while circling the bed. He sat down with his back against the headboard, going through his phone. His hip bone was leveled with your head and the temptation to just press your lips against it was poking your brain, but your body refused to move a few inches to do so. You were so exhausted and even tho it was worth it you couldn’t for the love of god lift your head from the mattress.

“Tired?” he questioned, while his fingers made their way to your head and sunk into your hair. With knowledge he had from years of dating and even before that when you two were just friends, Megumi’s fingers stroke your scalp, earning a soft hum of approbation from you. You looked up and found his eyes already on you, phone long forgotten because of the new task he had at hands.

“Yeah, a little��” You said, with your eyes fluttering close to enjoy the attention he was giving you.

Megumi patted your head a few times to catch your attention, and when you looked at him, he extended his arms towards you, asking you to get in between them. “Come here…” He invited, a sigh laced in his words.

You tried to push yourself up from the bed, but your treacherous arms failed you, giving up under your weight and sending you face first into your bed.

“Your helpless… You know?” Megumi chuckled under his breath before one of his arms snaked around your waist, his bicep flexing and pulling you onto his lap. Once he had you where he wanted, with your back pressed against his chest and his hands resting on your midriff, he kissed your cheek. Your eyes drifted shut simply enjoying his presence, letting the even rais and fall of his chest calm your mind. “Can i have a kiss?” he muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder, and peering at you with those forest green eyes that seemed to shine, and when he was so tender towards you, how could you deny?

Your chest soared with his words, so you turned your head to meet his awaiting lips, you could almost feel the softness of his mouth when a sharp searing pain stabbed your spine halting your movements as you squeezed your eyes tight. “Shit,” You cursed, pressing your palm against the ache in the back of your neck, hoping it would do something to soothe it.

“Oh, god… Baby, let me see?” Megumi’s fingers pried yours away and then brushed your hair away. His fingers thumb brushed your skin two times over the spot you were holding, and even though it still hurt, his concern seemed to tone the pain down a little.. “Does this hurts?” He applied a little more pressure and when you didn’t wince he kept going, tracing circles and working to erase the knots and kinks that bothered you. “Lean forwards for me…”

Doing just what Fushiguro instructed, you leaned forwards as he shifted underneath you. Suddenly you were no longer sitting on top of his legs but instead sitting in the mattress while his thighs circled yours, pressing against them and allowing his warmth to seep into your legs through the fabric of your jeans.

His other hand soon joined, and his fingers massaged your shoulders and neck intently. You could still feel the burn and sometimes when he pressed a little to hard on a specially sore spot you would yelp and try to get away from him, but he was fast to apologizes and land a kiss on the side of your neck.

You two spent fifteen minutes in that comfortable silence, until he perked up and and halted his movements

“I know what to do… Hold on a minute.” He shuffled behind you and leaped out of the bed, walking away into the bathroom without any explanation.

You just sat there, waiting, and wondering if he had some kind of lotion or cream to help you. You couldn’t recall ever seeing one in the shelves, but he often bought things and forget about them hours later.

The sound of running water rushed out and drowned the silence. You counted on your head, one minute, two, three… Still no signs of Megumi coming back to bed.

“Megumi?” Your answer came in the form of footsteps. Coming out of the room, he smiled at you as he approached. “What are you doing…?”

“Come here…” He said, not answering your question and scooping you up in his arms. On instinct your legs circled his waist while he supported your weight with his hands underneath your thighs.

“Megumi!” You laughed, surprised, clinging to his shoulders while he walked you two back into the steamed filled bathroom. The scent of flowers was what hit you first, closely followed by the sight of a filled tub with bubbles. “What?… Did you do this?” You asked in wonder, feeling cupid just shot another dozen arrows into your already pierced heart.

“Of course… You’re not feeling well, and a warm bath is a wonderful solution.” Pride shone in his eyes. He lowered you on the edge and took a step back. “Get in, and I’ll be right back.” He moved towards the door but hesitated before exiting the room. “Can you take off your clothes? Because I wouldn’t mind helping you out with that…”

“Oh god…” Embarrassment hit you like a wave and you covered your heated face with your hands. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. “

“Just looking out for my girl.” the dimple appeared again, and you almost wanted to crawl under the water to hide from the embarrassment. Even after all this time, he still earned a reaction from you.

“I’m sure you do.”

His laugh lingered in the air as he exited, and with shaky fingers you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them off. The muscles on your back pulled as your pulled the hem of your shirt over your head, but you endured it. The sweet call of the warm water had you stripped down and inside the tub in no time.

Bubbles covered your chest as the heat from the water seeped into your body, the water brushed your chin as you just felt all the exhaustion from the day drain out of your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you lounged in the water like a tea bag without a care in the world.

“Comfortable?” Looking up, he was next to you once again.

“Very...”

He tapped something on his phone, and a soft guitar strummed. He placed it on the mirror shelf before grabbing the elastic of his pants. Noticing he was actually pulling them down, you turned away, covering your eyes.

“What are you doing!?” You asked, startled.

“Well... You seriously don’t expect me to get in with my pants on, do you?” He said matter-of-factly. And a shiver raced down your arms, while a heated wave pooled at the pit of your stomach.

“Are you getting in? You just showered! ” You stole a glance at him, forcing your gaze to stay on his face.

“Yes, but then you weren’t sitting in the bathroom with this much skin exposed... are you really embarrassed?” Laughing kicked the garment off. “You just watched me change a few minutes ago.”

“Shut up, Megumi.” You whined, fighting the urge to let your eyes roam.

“Come on, scoot over.” He laughed. “ I’m worried your might combust from embarrassment.”

Sighing, you moved forwards on the tub, letting enough space for him to sit behind you. The water rippled around you before you felt his soft skin brushing your bare back. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you, love...” You whispered, bringing your joined hands to your mouth and kissing his knuckles. Scars from past battles scattered the surface but you could only a testimony of his strength.

“Of course.” He squeezed you against his chest for a few heartbeats before asking. “Do you mid if I wash your hair?”

A heat that had nothing to do with the water temperature and all with the rumble of his words crept from your toes to your neck.

“I think I’d like that.”

Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, he dropped some of it on his palm and then he started robbing your scalp in lazy circles, his nails gently scraping it. You could feel his head swinging to the beat of the song sounding in the bathroom, before his voiced joined in.

Lyrics about love and happiness tumbled out of his mouth with a subtle rasp to them. And suddenly you were back to thinking about your dream, the one with beaches and warmth. Maybe a vacation wouldn’t hurt... You considered bringing it up, but the atmosphere was too serene to disrupt it with questions about his schedule. If you asked, it meant he had to stop singing in order to answer you, and that was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

Surely it was the warm water and his fingers, but sitting there listening to his voice and feeling his breath brushing your face, you concluded that Megumi’s mere presence was all you needed to feel better.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #fluff #my fic #megumi-stan

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mydramaspace · 3 years

Text

Part 1:“Do I need a reason to like him?” In which you’re in love with your best friend and someone asks you why you like him.

Part 1. Posted on 5 May 2021.

The question makes you stumble and drop your yogurt to the ground, whiteness splattering everywhere. You’re mumbling incoherent nonsensical words of apology when a hand swoops in to pull you up from the ground. “Are you okay?”

Your heart jumps to your throat, and breathing becomes a chore. Chocolate brown tired eyes behind a pair of black glasses scan your face worriedly. The touch on your wrist begins to burn, a pleasant heat stemming from where his fingers touch your wrist. You’re sure your ears are as red as tomatoes. Anybody else, and they would’ve understood. They would’ve known. It would be impossible not to. But not him. Not your dense best friend. You mumble something and it must satisfy him because he lets go of your hand, shaking his head. “When will you start paying attention to your surroundings?” A beat. Then, “Who is this?”

It is then you remember your other friend standing next to you. “Oh this is Min Hyuk. Min Hyuk, this is Nam Joo Hyuk, my best friend.” Min Hyuk grins widely, the naughty spark in his eyes sends worry flowing through you. He wouldn’t spill the beans would he? You really should be more careful of how you behave around Joo Hyuk, you need to stop being so obvious. The two shake hands and you shake your head, attempt to chase away the buzzing that is filling it up- as it always does whenever Joo Hyuk is near you these days.

“Where are you guys headed?”

“Oh we’re heading to the learning center. We wanted to study for the French final together.” A beat. “Can I join you?”

You blink at your best friend. He looks back at you, eyebrows raised. “But, Joo Hyuk, you’re in English. Why do you want to study French?” You say, and he shrugs. Min Hyuk begins to laugh and you turn to him, beginning to feel slightly annoyed. “What’s so funny?”

He smiles in that secretive way of his that makes you want to smack him, walking forward, and Joo Hyuk matches his pace. You hurry after both of them.

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

“Come on, tell me!”

You look up from your laptop for the hundredth time to glare at Min Hyuk. “Non.” you say sternly, “Study your French.” Min Hyuk only sniggers in reply. You roll your eyes and look at the alphabets on screen again, mouthing the words. Involuntarily, your eyes slide upwards and forward, to where Joo Hyuk is sitting with his laptop, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. A sigh escapes your mouth. It would be so easy to just go there and wrap your arms around him like you used to. Except, no, it would not. You didn’t have a crush on him then. Now you do.

Min Hyuk taps the desk in front of you loudly, making Joo Hyuk glance up sharply, looking annoyed. You look away, embarrassed at being caught, and smack Min Hyuk’s hand away. “We’re going to fail our final at this rate.” You hiss, and he laughs. “Tell me why you like him and I promise I’ll shut up.” You glance at Joo Hyuk warily, and he looks away from you, eyes going back to his laptop. “Promise you’ll shut up?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

You sigh loudly, making Joo Hyuk glance at you in concern. You feel your ears go red, and smile at him before looking away. You can almost swear he grinned back.

“Fine, what do you want to know.”

“Since when have you liked him?”

Forever maybe? Ever since you saw him carry an injured chipmunk to the infirmary with such tenderness it surprised you even though you knew he was the gentle sort of guy? Or when he cut up your steak for you when you fractured your thumb when you both were 10 and fed you your dinner? Or when you were 16 and he rushed to your house in the middle of the night when your favorite character in the book you were reading died and hugged you till the tears stopped? “A month.”

“What do you even like about him?”

How warm his hugs are. How his eyes crinkle when he smiles. How his lips tilt a bit more to the left than the right. How he holds the frame of the car door every time you get into any car and tells you to mind your head. The way his t-shirt rides up every time he stretches his arms after four hours of intense gaming. The way he goes silent every time he looks at the stars, like he has just noticed how beautiful they are. The way he is unashamed to say he likes the same music as you do, and that he likes romance fiction. The way he seems to always be there for you whenever you need him. The way his eyes shine in the sunlight and his lips look so totally kissabl-

“He’s nice.”

“He’s nice?” Min Hyuk guffaws loudly, drawing attention from everyone in the center, including Joo Hyuk who crumples his nose as he looks at his laptop. You place your hand against Min Hyuk’s mouth, shutting him up. “Byu bwike bim baush beesh biche?” his words come out muffled and you pull your hand back, wiping it against your jeans, disgusted with your friend. “You like him only because he’s nice?” Min Hyuk’s tone is incredulous and you glare at him. “You said you’d study French if I told you. Study.”

“Ya! You promised me to tell me why you like-” You stomp on Min Hyuk’s foot, breaking off his loud question, and Joo Hyuk looks absolutely disgusted. You look at him, smiling uneasily. “Sorry!” You mouth at him. You don’t blame him really, if it were you, you would be annoyed too by some loud jerk who wouldn’t let you finish your work in peace. Joo Hyuk just ignores your smile and looks away, jaw clenched, and your stomach twists. You hate fighting with him. You rarely do, but when it happens, it’s the worst.

“That is it. I’m heading back to my dorm. I’ll get to study there at least.” You pack up your things and storm out, Min Hyuk following you, calling out apologies. As you walk out, you notice Joo Hyuk continue to ignore you, even when you wave at him, and your stomach twists again. Why does it feel like the beginning of an end?

As Min Hyuk catches up to you and apologizes over and over again, you don’t see Joo Hyuk’s eyes trailing after you all the way till you’re out of his line of vision. Nor do you see the fingers he has clamped around his pen tightly.

xxxxxx

A/n: Hahah this was an effort, and will probably continue into a series sometime soon! Thanks for reading! <3

(EDIT: You can read Part 2 here! and part 3 here!)

#reader x nam joo hyuk #nam joo hyuk #fanfiction #start up #do san #romance #fluff #pining #best friends to lovers #minor jealousy #boys over flowers #nam joo hyuk x reader

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poorcinderelly · 3 years

Text

Perfectly Fine

Author: poorcinderelly

Rating: PG13 (language mostly)

Fandom: RPF

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction and not-for-profit fan activity. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of any series mentioned here.

Word Count: 3,491

Notes: Soooooo....I have never written an RPF fic before and especially not one that involves Tom Holland. I got inspired to write this after listening to Taylor Swift's song, Mr. Perfectly Fine on loop for the past few days. Fair warning, Tom is not really kind here. I mean, he's not the worst, but he's also not the greatest either. Part of me also really wants to do a part two to this, but I guess it will depend on how it's received and honestly, if I feel like it, lol.

Here's the AO3 link, too.

Enjoy!

It takes everything in me just to get up each day But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

You rolled over in bed and picked up your phone. It was almost 11:00am. You knew you had to get out of bed. Brush your teeth. Comb your hair. Eat something.

But your energy was gone. Everything felt so heavy.

The last communication was over a text message. Tom had asked when you were going to come by to get the rest of your things from his apartment. At first, you told him you weren't sure yet. He responded asking if he should just have them mailed to Jessica's, your best friend's place. You had been staying with her since the break-up.

You eventually told him that you would come to get them. But that was two weeks ago.

You opened your messages, a small part of you hoping to get a new one from him. But there was nothing.

You opened Twitter, mindlessly scrolling through, not really reading anything that was on your feed.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her And I never got past what you put me through But it's wonderful to see that it never phased you

That was when you saw it. A video of Tom, with his new girlfriend. They were caught by paparazzi coming out of a restaurant. You watched as they held hands, making their way down the sidewalk. Tom was chatting them up as usual; it was something he did to try to make what's a typically stressful situation go as smooth as possible. It was something he did when he was out with you.

A lump swelled in your throat and you tried your best to blink back tears.

He seemed totally fine. It's like he has completely moved on, even though it had only been two weeks. You started seeing photos of him and her together shortly after you broke up. You thought it was odd that he had moved on so quickly, but you also suspected that he may have been talking to her for a while, even while you two were still together.

How wonderful.

That thought made the dam broke and you started to cry again. It felt like you had been crying non-stop since things ended. You were so tired of it. Jessica, being the best friend that she was, told you it was okay to cry and that it was okay to feel. "You've been through a shock," she said. "What Tom did caught you by surprise."

She was right of course, but it still hurt.

You closed Twitter and went back to your messages. You opened the thread you had with Tom and wrote the following:

I'll come pick my stuff up today.

You closed the app and rolled over, facing the window. The sun was out and you could see the leaves from the trees rustling in the breeze. It was a beautiful spring day.

Then you heard your phone ping. You reached over to the other side of the bed and picked it up.

Tom replied.

You took a breath and opened the message.

Okay. Just text when you're on the way.

You saw through that immediately. It was so obvious that he was trying to make sure she wouldn't be there when you came. "How considerate of you."

You didn't even bother to text him back.

You set your phone down on the table and even though it felt like it took all of your strength, you rolled out of bed.

"Time to get moving."

- * -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -

Mr. "Perfect face" Mr. "Here to stay" Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away" Everything was right Mr. "I've been waiting for you all my life" Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side"

You and Tom met at a red carpet event for a summer Hollywood blockbuster. He already had two Spider-Man movies under his belt by then, but you were an up-and-coming actress. You were aware of him and he was aware of your work, but you had never met or spoken to one another before. However, when you saw him outside the theater, it was like sparks went off. Despite being surrounded by the press and screaming fans, all you could see was him.

Once you both were inside the venue, he asked if he could find you at the party afterward. You said "yes," trying your best not to show how eager and excited you were. Once the movie was over, you made your way to the after-party. Walking in, you felt like you were in a fairytale; a princess trying to find her prince in the crowd.

Tom found you first; he made his way from the other side of the room and offered you a drink. You never left each other's side that night; you danced, ate, drank, and left to go back to his hotel together.

You hoped that the one-night stand would turn into something more and it did.

One month turned into six, then a year, and another year. Tom was everything you wanted in a person; kind, funny, smart, and attentive. Even though you both had extremely chaotic schedules, you both made it a rule to coordinate a FaceTime every night before you went to sleep, no matter where you were in the world.

It did not take long for the press to catch on about your relationship. Since your career was not as established as Tom's, having everyone in the world find out about you made you incredibly anxious. But Tom was supportive and patient; he was also a private person, which helped. He promised to protect you.

Tom was good for you and you thought you were good for him, too. He made you feel safe and loved. You had been waiting for a relationship like this one for a long, long time.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart" Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

You couldn't pinpoint when exactly things changed, but it occurred over the span of a few months.

Tom started to snap more during your FaceTimes. He assured you that it was stress from having to film three movies back to back. But you knew something was off; you just couldn't tell what it was. Not long after that, your FaceTimes were getting short. The same thing would happen: Tom would lose his patience, you would get defensive, a fight would happen, and both of you would hang up.

Tom barely answered your FaceTime calls after that fight. He would always say he was busy or tired, but you knew better.

And throughout this time, the anxiety kept building up. Every day, you asked yourself what you did to upset him and if there was a way to fix it. Your communication with Tom was mostly through text messages, and you were starting to notice that when you told him you loved him, he didn't say it back.

The first time you saw him after that was in November. It was the start of the holiday break for the both of you and you wanted to have a few weeks to yourselves before having to travel to see each other's families. You arrived at the apartment you both shared in New York. After you dropped your suitcases in the bedroom, you texted him asking if he was on his way.

Hours went by. He never responded.

You heard the doorknob click around nine-thirty that evening and Tom made his way inside. He tossed his keys on the counter and went into the kitchen, not saying a word. You could tell he was tired; you were tired too. You knew better than to do this, but the anxiety and frustration that had been building up for the past few weeks finally got released.

It resulted in the biggest fight you had. You asked why he didn't respond to your text; he snapped and asked why you were always breathing down his neck. You just wanted to know what was going on; why things have been distant between you both. But Tom just kept deflecting, saying that nothing was wrong. But your anxiety wouldn't let you believe it; something was different and you knew fighting wasn't going to solve the problem. But it just didn't stop; it quickly escalated to more screaming, more crying, and slamming doors.

Tom left the apartment that night; he left you sitting on the living room floor, crying. Right before he slammed the door, he said, "I need to get away from you right now."

Hours went by and you were waiting for him to come home.

He didn't.

You ended up sleeping on the couch.

Mr. "Never told me why" Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy"

Tom returned the next day. You heard him come in around the early afternoon. He was wearing the same outfit he wore yesterday. You wanted to know where he was, but you didn't ask, afraid that it would set off another fight.

Your mind wandered to what he said the night before.

"You're always nagging on me."

"Why do you think something always has to be wrong?"

"You're so fucking crazy."

"I need to get away from you."

Tom saw that you were on the couch and came to the obvious conclusion that you slept there and had not moved. He crouched down in front of you and brushed some loose strands of your hair out of your face.

"I'm sorry."

You could not tell if his apology was genuine. It honestly felt like he was only apologizing just to apologize, not because he truly meant it. But you were so tired; you wanted this to be over.

So you accepted it.

Hello Mr. "Casually cruel"

Things did not get better after that. Typical small arguments turned into big ones and minor disagreements turned into personal attacks.

It amazed you how Tom had so many casually cruel comebacks for you in his arsenal. But you were not so innocent either; some of the things you said to him surprised you.

You started to not like who you have become; you were anxious all the time now and truthfully, you really did not like hurting him. You weren't sure if you could say the same about Tom, though.

One night in February, you were sitting out on the balcony, looking over the Manhattan skyline. You were sipping your tea and heard the sliding door to the balcony open. Tom sat in the chair next to you, running his hands through his hair.

"I think..." he sighed, "....I think we need to break up."

You knew it was coming, but you still were not fully prepared. Tears swelled in your eyes and you squeezed the mug like it was your lifeline.

"We just can't keep doing this, babes," said Tom. "I can't keep doing this."

In your head, you begged him to stop. You pleaded that it was not in fact over; that you just needed to talk things through. You could definitely work through this; it was just a rough patch. But you could not say the words - because a part of you knew that he was right.

You could not keep doing it either.

Both of you sat out there for a while, not saying a word. You still squeezed the tea mug, but the tears you were holding back were falling freely now.

It was over.

- * -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -* -* -* - * -

You found the energy to shower, blowdry your hair, and get changed into a white t-shirt, jeans, and green jacket. You grabbed your phone, wallet, and keys and tossed them in your handbag.

Jessica was in the kitchen eating a piece of toast. You saw how elated she was when she noticed that you showered and changed clothes. She offered to make you breakfast, but you refused.

"I'll just eat something when I come back."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Where are you going?"

"I, uh...I'm going to Tom's...to get the rest of my things." You picked at the end of one of the drawstrings on your jacket.

"Will she be there?" Jessica asked.

You shook her head. "I don't think so."

Jessica nodded; you noticed that she looked a little relieved. "Well, do you want me to drive you? Just in case you see some paps along the way?"

"Oh. Them," you thought. It did not take long for the media to catch on that you two had broken up. It was partly why you had been hiding out at Jessica's for the past couple of weeks. As much as you wanted her to come with you, you knew this was something you needed to do yourself.

Jessica said she had to work tonight, but promised to come home straight after for a full report, which you laughed at. You said your goodbyes and made your way out of Jessica's building.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that there were not any paps around. You hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address to Tom's apartment. Your old apartment.

You leaned back in the seat and pulled out your phone.

I'm on my way.

You tried not to think too much about it. If you thought about it, you would surely cry. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

The cab pulled up to the front of the building. You paid the fee and got out. You said your hello to Tony, the doorman (who was surprised to see you), and made your way through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the green carpet hall to your old unit. Room 4J

Your hands were shaking a little now, but you tried to brush it off. You turned it into a fist and lightly knocked on the door. It was just starting to hit you that this would be the last time you would set foot in this place, but you interrupted the thought.

"Damn it, you are NOT going to lose it!"

You heard movement from the other side of the door and the jiggle of the doorknob.

There was Tom.

He was wearing a black turtleneck, jeans, and socks. His chestnut hair was curly and he had what looked like a cup of tea in his hand.

"Come in."

He did not smile when he saw you; you were not expecting him to, but it stung a little.

You began to scan the apartment, trying to find anything that belonged to you. Then you heard Tom clear his throat.

"Uh...everything's in the guest bedroom," he said.

You looked at him, confused. Since when did he have a guest bedroom?

"We turned it into a spare bedroom after..." his voice trailed off near the end.

Their now guest room used to be your craft room. It had all of your paints, markers, fabrics, and colorful paper that you used to make gifts for friends, co-workers, and loved ones. Of course, all of that was packed up and in storage now.

You sighed a little and made your way down the hall to the guest room. You opened the door and saw a full bed, a dresser with a small television on it, and a bedside table with a lamp on it. In the space between the bed and the dresser was a single medium-sized cardboard box with your name written on it in big, black letters. The handwriting was Tom's.

You crouched down and opened the box. Inside was your favorite tea mug, a spare cell phone charger, some headphones, a scarf, and a paintbrush set you left behind. At the bottom of the box, was a small, red photo album.

You knew immediately what that was. You bit your lip and swallowed. "I'll open that another time," you thought.

You folded the box back up and tucked it under your arm as you got to your feet. You made your way back to the living area and saw Tom sitting on the couch, with his arms crossed. When he saw you enter the room, he got to his feet.

"Do you need help with that?" he asked.

You shook your head. "No," you answered, shortly, "I got it."

Tom let out a small sigh and followed you to the door. You wanted to get out of there. You could feel the dam was about to break. Just as your hand was about to twist the doorknob, you heard Tom's voice let out a small, "I'm sorry."

You bit your lip and lowered your head. "Don't do this! Not here!" you begged yourself. "You don't have to apologize, Tom," you said, surprised that you were even able to get that out of you. Your hand was still clenching the doorknob.

"Y/N, can we please talk?" Tom asked. "I just need to clear the air on a few things."

You could tell he was a little desperate for this. Part of you wondered if this was something he had planned all along. You knew you did not owe him anything, but part of you wanted to hear him out.

You turned around and set the box on top of the kitchen counter. You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. "Do you want to sit down?" Tom offered. You shook your head. "No thanks."

And it's really such a shame It's such a shame 'Cause I was Miss "Here to stay" Now I'm Miss "Gonna be alright someday" And someday maybe you'll miss me But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

So Tom stood too. He looked you in the eye the entire time he spoke, but he also twiddled his fingers.

"I'm sorry that we ended things the way we did. I'm sorry for the way I treated you, how I yelled at you and insulted you. No one should ever have to hear those words, and I know I should have treated you better. I'm truly sorry."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and bit the inside of your cheek. This was all you wanted - a genuine apology. Now that you finally got it, you weren't sure how to process it.

But you knew you better say something, too.

"I-I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for how I treated you, too. I said some horrible things to you, too, and I wish I could take them back. I'm sorry."

The damn started to break now. A few small tears started to roll down your cheeks. You wiped them away with your sleeve, hoping it would hinder the rest.

There was so much more that you wanted to say to him, but you knew if you did, you would not be able to control yourself. Tom took a step closer to, with the intent to give you a hug. But you held your hand up to stop him, which he respected.

That was when you took a step closer to him, stood on your tiptoes, and kissed him on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Tom," you said, your voice cracking. "Thank you." "I wish you well."

You did not give him the time to speak. You quickly turned around, grabbed the box from the counter, and walked out the door.

You pushed through the doors of the building and walked out into the street. You got lucky again and immediately hailed a cab before saying goodbye to Tony.

On your ride home, you watched people pass on the sidewalk. The box was resting in your lap. The tears you had been working so hard to hold back were starting to fall. But you did not feel any tinge of sadness, anger, or any pain. The feeling in your chest was mostly bittersweet.

You accepted that that was probably the last time you were ever going to see Tom, and you were beginning to feel okay with that. You were also beginning to feel happy that he was fine. Despite the pain that the both of you endured, you truly just wanted to see him happy. And now you finally knew that he wants the same for you too.

You reached up and wiped away the tears that were still rolling down your cheeks. A part of you will always love Tom, but after today, you can finally take the steps to move on.

You know you will be perfectly fine too someday.

Goodbye Mr. "Perfectly fine" How's your heart after breakin' mine? Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby Goodbye Mr. "Casually cruel" Mr. "Everything revolves around you" I've been Miss "Misery" for the last time And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine" You're perfectly fine

Click here to read Part II (Changing Minds)

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #taylor swift #mr. perfectly fine #mr perfectly fine #fic: perfectly fine #fandom: rpf #rpf: tom holland #ch: ofc #ch: reader

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aeternallis · 3 years

Text

Unpacking the Anti-Sessrin Argument :: Father/Daughter & Grooming

While I was watching AxelBeats’ newest video on the Sessrin discourse, it got me thinking that maybe the reason why the Anti-Sessrin argument even exists in the first place is because Rumiko Takahashi never fully defined Sessrin’s relationship. The audience had different interpretations, of course, but she never explicitly named whatever it is between them.

It sounds like I’m just stating the obvious, but hear me out. It often baffles me whenever the antis describe Sesshoumaru as having raised, essentially “groomed” Rin for the purpose of sexual gratification. I mean—that’s pretty much the definition of “grooming,” isn’t it: to consistently lower a child’s emotional defenses and befriend them, for the purpose of sex.

But in that same vein, the anti-Sessrin argument also claims (at least most of the time) that Sesshoumaru and Rin also had a father/daughter relationship, from the context of the original show.

Which...kinda contradict each other? 😅 If one sees Sessrin’s relationship as that of a wholesome “father/daughter,” the idea of Sesshoumaru “grooming” Rin is negated, isn’t it? Because in the context of the original anime and the subsequent sequel, describing these two characters simultaneously as “father/daughter” and “an older man grooming a child” wouldn’t make any sense, considering the fact that both descriptions have virtually opposite intentions.

It can only be one or the other.

At least in a fictional context, anyway. As I said, it’s always been difficult to pin down Sessrin’s relationship because Takahashi herself had never defined it either. Sesshoumaru’s character arc is hella subtle, considering the fact that he’s not part of the main group and at most, he is a secondary character (but one that definitely makes an impression), if not a minor antagonist in the beginning. Lol

I’ve always been of the opinion that if you’re going to define the relationship of two characters in any piece of fiction, whatever label that may be has to apply to the entire story of said characters. It would be an erroneous flaw to define the relationship of two characters as one thing based on your initial impressions, then another thing entirely just because you don’t like the trajectory of said relationship.

I don’t mean to say that relationships are static; after all, the emotional connections between two characters are always evolving, either for better or worse. That’s what makes a story, and what allows the audience to connect with the characters.

I only meant that the label has to be reflective of the characters’ actions.

After all, Yashahime is considered the sequel to Inuyasha; it acts as a continuation, not a reboot or a separate story of its own. Yes, the focus has shifted to an alternative main cast, but the story is still being told within the framework of the original anime.

Father/Daughter_________

As I said earlier, a lot of antis describe Sessrin as having a father/daughter relationship, but what specific actions did Sessrin perform in the original anime gave off that impression?

From the beginning, Rin has never had expectations of Sesshoumaru as one would expect to have of a daughter to a father. Throughout the original anime, she fends for herself and only relies on Sesshoumaru for protection. In the context of the time period, Rin receives no form of dowry from him, she’s not used as any sort of pawn (political or otherwise) to his advantage at any time, and for the most part, has no right to whatever assets he may own as an heir (in this case, Jaken’s services and Ah-Un’s loyalty). Sesshoumaru instructs (forces) Jaken and Ah-Un to care for Rin, but I highly doubt the latter has the right to command them, were she truly perceived to be an adopted daughter to a youkai.

For example, in episode 162 of the anime, Rin herself acknowledges that she doesn’t know what role she plays in Sesshoumaru’s life. For some context, there’s a scene in the episode where Jaken explains that in the future after the situation with Naraku is settled, Sesshoumaru will most likely build an empire. In this future empire Jaken envisions, he proclaims that he’ll be a chief minister, so Rin asks the following question:

In this scene, it clearly shows that Rin has no expectations of Sesshoumaru as one would have as a perceived daughter to a father.

Conversely, Sesshoumaru doesn’t give Rin any rights as a daughter would rightfully have from a father. Rin isn’t overprotectively cloistered away in a palace (or in Towa/Setsuna’s case, within a barrier that surrounds a beautiful forest), he does not pass on any sort of inheritance to her (unlike, once again, Towa/Setsuna’s case, in which they both inherited his powers), does not actively tell her of his singular interest in pursuing Naraku, and most of the time, remains emotionally distant from her.

And to repeat that, emotionally distant, but it doesn’t mean that he’s not affected by her kindness.

In the end, she’s free to roam around with him as she pleases--or leave his side, as she pleases. She doesn’t have the restrictions or expectations that would be placed upon a female of that time period; Sesshoumaru lets her live her life, as she pleases.

Grooming _________

On the other end of the spectrum, I ask once more: what specific actions did Sessrin perform in the original anime that gave off that impression?

And before one begins to even think about that question, please note that using the reason “in Yashahime, Sesshoumaru married Rin and they had children” as the specific action would not make any sense; this action is just an end result, but nowhere does it indicate where or how the perceived grooming took place.

To reiterate, throughout the original anime Sesshoumaru remained emotionally distant from Rin; his main focus for most of the time was trying to take Tetsusaiga, tracking down Naraku, and/or trying to find a weapon that can match/surpass Tetsusaiga.

Hell, even in one of their first significant moments together when he brings her back to life that first time, it wasn’t for any reason of trying to obtain sexual gratification from Rin; the audience is fully aware that he was just mostly out to test Tenseiga’s power (as Jaken himself reiterates). Mauledtodeath!Rin just happened to be there as a stroke of luck and an opportunity.

What limited scenes they did have together were brief (not to mention that he ignored her half the time), and with hardly any insight into Sesshoumaru’s thoughts, this argument is very much a moot point.

To be honest, the “grooming” argument IMO is actually kind of ironic, yknow? XD A lot if not most of the antis hate the Sessrin shippers because they think that we condone pedophilia and grooming...yet they were the ones to reach this conclusion on their own. They’re the ones imagining a Sesshoumaru who only had dirty thoughts towards Rin, who raised her to be his outlet for sexual gratification. Lol

Either way, the situation is funny in that context!

My Conclusion _________

So what does all this mean? Nothing much, only that I still don’t really understand where the father/daughter vibe and grooming thing comes from. Lol When I say I never saw those things in the original anime, I meant it. If one were to think about the context of the story and how it was portrayed, the accusations that are stacked against Sessrin are just assumptions based on one singular fact that Sesshoumaru married Rin and had children with her.

To me personally, the one label that defines the relationship between Sesshoumaru and Rin, the one that makes sense if we were to look at Inuyasha and Yashahime as a continuous narrative, is that of lord and vassal.

In an interview with Yashahime’s staff (wonderfully translated by ayuuria here), the producer Naka Toshikazu stated that it was a challenge trying to continue Inuyasha’s story because of how Rumiko Takahashi so neatly concluded it. They only had direction to go somewhere with a new story when they realized they could make it about Sesshoumaru’s daughter.

And it makes sense, doesn’t it? After all, the reason why they couldn’t just pursue Inukag or MiroSan’s story is because those relationships had already been defined. Both are two sets of characters who fell in love whilst they went on an adventure, and they’ve done their part to save the world.

Would a story about Shippo or Jaken or Koga have pulled audiences as much as the main cast did? Where would the conflict come from? How could they continue the story without having to repeat the original narrative? Without having to create a new Naraku?

It makes sense that Sesshoumaru and Rin would get together, if only because they were the one relationship that Rumiko has never defined, not in the anime nor in the manga. Zero in episode 15 of Yashahime states, “The Lord Sesshoumaru, one who is known to detest both humans and half-demons, has taken a human for a wife.”

Just think of how bold of a story that is, one that can match the stakes of the original story, whilst still being able to continue within the frame of the narrative? Think of the implications of what that means in the narrative of Inuyasha, that the one character who arguably hates humans the most, feared and respected by other youkai, went through such a character arc that he would marry a member of a species he claimed to hate and sire children with her.

Of course there would be repercussions; of course other demons wouldn’t be happy or be easily accepting of it, Shikon jewel prophecy be damned.

Of course Sesshoumaru has to work hard to earn his complete happy ending with his family. He fell in love with Rin, a human woman, after all. And in the story of Inuyasha, has that not always been the catalyst for everything else?

#Sessrin #hanyou no yashahime #hanyo no yashahime #anti-sessrin #something to think about #meta #ramble #hanyou no yashahime: sengoku otogizoushi #Yashahime

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

1950

Wanda Maximoff x reader

warnings: talks abt wanda’s mental health

a/n: this was written pre-wandavision release so im actually completely bullshitting the storyline...this turned into really poorly written angst really quickly

prompt: @the-radio-star: “OMG for the song event can I request Wanda Maximoff (MCU) with 1950 - King Princess”//1950 - King Princess

One thousand nine hundred eighty-nine days. That’s how long you waited for this moment. To stand in front of Wanda and see her beautiful face again. To hold her hands and pull her close to you. It was at that moment you realized that if you had to, you would wait an entire lifetime for her to return to you.

“Did you miss me?” Wanda coyly asked, watching as you fought tearing up. You’d be a liar if you denied it.

“Maybe just a little.” You honestly couldn’t stop thinking about her when she was gone. You didn’t think it’d be possible to see her again.

“Glad to know someone did.” She smiled slightly, but you knew there was something on her mind. She had lost people, too. Only her people...they weren’t coming back.

The thing is, she’d mourn for a while, but not forever. You’d be there with her through it all, though. Because you loved her, and not just as a friend. You and Wanda had been back and forth for a while, you just never caught each other at the right times. But now you were sitting side by side on a bench in the park and she was smiling, really smiling. It’s like she’d healed from all that had hurt her in the past, you were glad to be able to witness that.

“You look really pretty today, Wanda.” She heard you compliment, making her face turn pink.

“You’re just being nice.” Wanda rolled her eyes with a chuckle, but she knew you weren’t kidding. You wished that it could have stayed this simple, but your lives...they just didn’t work like that. So that leads us into our next part of the story, just shortly after.

—————

“Mx. l/n! You can’t go in there!” An agent camped outside the restricted town called to you as you marched right in, there was nothing that would stop you from saving her from herself. You may be the only person that could.

Once you were inside, you took a gander around at the puzzling scenery. It’s like you stepped right into a portal to 1950, and there you saw one house that looked more detailed than the rest, there she is.

You didn’t know what kind of state of mind she may be in, but this couldn’t go on for much longer, so you walked right up to her door and gave a less-than-gentle knock. There was an almost immediate answer.

“Hello? Can I help you?” Wanda asked with a peculiar tone, her accent was completely gone. And...she didn’t recognize you. It was almost heartbreaking.

“Wanda?” Your voice shook, but Wanda stayed upbeat as ever with a smile practically glued to her face.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” She joked, every part of this got more and more uncomfortable. You should have listened to that agent.

“Who’s at the door, Wanda?” You heard a familiar voice from inside.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Wanda tilted her head gently and you whispered your answer by accident. She thought you were odd, but she couldn’t imagine how you felt. “It’s y/n, honey!”

“Do we know an ‘y/n?’” He asked yet another question.

“We do now! Come on in.” The stranger of a friend dragged you inside and...wow. You just wanted to know how you could help her at this point. This entire reality, it couldn’t bring anything good. “So, y/n, tell us more about yourself.”

“I, uh...” You were focusing on Vision, who was sitting on a recliner reading his newspaper. He was supposed to be dead. Oh, Wanda, what have you done? Wait—Did something in the room just change? “You don’t remember me?”

“Remember you? Why, I’ve never seen you in my life.” Vision commented, folding his newspaper and sitting up straight. Now the two of them were uncomfortably staring at you. “Who are you?” How could you answer this question without hurting Wanda’s mental state. You looked at her clock and saw that it was now ticking one way, and then the other. They were still staring and you were holding onto your breath. Good god.

“Well, we haven’t got all day. Me and Vision have dinner plans!” Wanda finally broke her deafening silence and clapped her hands together. Maybe...maybe you should snap her out of this. You awkwardly contemplated it for another few moments while the fictional couple stared, observing the surroundings of the 1950s-themed home. Is this really what she wanted?

“This...this isn’t real, Wanda.” You finally told her, but she laughed. She just laughed. “I’m serious. All of this around us? You made it up.”

“That’s preposterous!” Vision decided to interject as he began reading the paper again, crossing one leg over another. But Wanda hadn’t yet commented on your world-breaking news.

“Wanda? You’ve got to believe me. Think about it for a minute. What do you remember from the past few days?” You tried to reason with her, but instead looked down to see yourself wearing 50s attire. She wasn’t going to give up this reality so easily. You decided to move onto the couch her hand been sitting on. “This is wrong. All wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?” She furrowed her eyebrows and watched you reach for her hand. Vision was frozen in time right then and there, almost like Cap himself.

“I care about you...so, so much.” You admitted as you squeezed her soft hands. “That’s why I need you to escape this fantasy and come back to the real world.” Wanda was starting to gain some clarity, but not enough to fully give up her dream life, even if you were a tad disappointed that Vision was there and you weren’t. Grief shows itself in funny ways, I guess. “Listen, Wanda. I didn’t want to have to do this, but...I love you too much to see you like this. A lie isn’t going to fix everything.” You reluctantly used her powers against her, a lovely ability you had. Mimicking her powers came at a cost, though.

“What—what are you doing?” Wanda asked as her world came undone. Her powers overwhelmed you greatly, but this was your last resort.

“I’m helping, Wanda. You’ll thank me later.” You grunted as you tried to concentrate. She was at a loss for words, actually. You watched as she ran outside and saw it all crumble to pieces. You hated hearing her cry, but the sooner you stopped this, the easier it might be.

You were weak now. It was hard to handle all of what she posessed when you weren’t quite used to it. It was time to find Wanda, but that wasn’t very hard. She was sitting in the middle of the road sobbing, but why exactly was she? There were so many reasons she may have.

“Are you okay?” You foolishly questioned. She didn’t answer at first...you sat beside her. You needed to sit, you were exhausted.

“I’m sorry.” She told you. “I’m a mess.”

“Don’t...” You placed your hand on her shoulder. “I know why you did it. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, though. I keep making these awful mistakes.” Wanda argued, biting her lip as more tears flowed down her cheeks and into her lap. Her jeans began catching them all. “It was wrong, perverted. I created a fake Vision, I took over a town, I went back in time. I created a false reality for myself and let it consume me, I couldn’t even remember who you were and you...you’re all that matters to me.”

“I—” This was such a complex situation, becoming an Avenger never prepared you for this. You decided a hug might be best right about now. No words for a minute. So you just pulled Wanda closer to you and let her cry on your shoulder. “I’m here for you Wanda.”

“I know you are. I’ve always known that.” She sniffled, still crying just a bit. And she was finally able to look you in the eye. “We’ve just never caught each other at the right time, have we?” Wanda asked, pulling your hand towards her lips to give your knuckles a light kiss.

“It seems that way.” You sighed. “But I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”

“I need to get on with my life, don’t I?” Her half-shrug was accompanied by the shake of her head.

“You need to take your time with it, Wanda.” You looked up at the cloudy sky and felt warmth on your cheek. A kiss.

“Maybe a little longer. But I think our time is soon.” She looked up with you and birds began to fly by, it was a bit peaceful.

“I just hope you’ll be happy with me.” You admitted, turning your head over to her. Your soon-to-be girlfriend’s eyes were still glossy, but she was seemingly okay for the time being.

“Out of the question, y/n.” She leaned her head against your shoulder once more. “I have no doubt that we’ll both be happy.” Her words were comforting, but tiredness was consuming you as you sat with your eyelids drooping.

“Let’s hope so...”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight //

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wandavision #wanda maximoff #wandavision x reader #wandavision imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

Prompt: mickey is walking with Franny when Terry shows up. Mickey protects Franny. Franny runs home where ian and family are and shouts that a man is hurting uncle mickey. Basically hurt mickey, protective ian. Ian conforting Mickey afterwards!

anon this is so GOOD !!! i LOVE some mickey & franny content, plus gallavich comfort :’) this is somewhat intense and got way too long lol, but the whole thing was so fun to write and i hope u enjoy <3

also my asks are open for more prompts! (since i am on winter break & bored out of my mind lol)

& ofc, tw for homophobia and physical violence

“C’mon kiddo! Bet you can’t catch me!”

“Yes, Uncle Mickey, yes I can!”

The sun was beating down onto the slushy pavement of the South Side, reflecting off the gritty late-winter snow that remained on the sides of the road and nearly blinding Mickey as he tried to lightly jog down the slippery sidewalk, just outside of Franny’s reach. Franny, who was a tottering bundle in her thick winter coat, a scratchy-looking red woolen scarf Tami had given her for Christmas, and a pink sparkly winter hat Debbie had forced over her ears before Mickey took her outside to play, was running as fast as she could to stay on Mickey’s heels.

Mickey hadn’t meant to take Franny as far away from the Gallagher house, into the winding South Side neighborhoods, as he had—Debbie was having some sort of meltdown about her business going to shit after a situation with organic snacks and climbing out a window (Mickey wasn’t even going to ask)—and sensing tensions were high, Mickey had pulled Franny out the back door to run around and play “gangsters,” her new favorite game, with the toy guns he’d gotten her for Christmas. They were going to stick to playing in the backyard, mostly because it was fucking freezing and almost dark outside, until Franny was about to encroach on Mickey’s fictional gang’s territory under the porch stairs, and of course Mickey couldn’t have that—so now they were racing through the streets, with Franny giggling and practically tripping over her own clunky winter boots every few steps.

“Is that all you’ve got, Wonder Woman? Come and get me!” Mickey called to Franny over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna get you! I will, Uncle Mickey!”

Mickey chuckled as he kept running, and felt his heart soften. As shitty as he’d always been with kids, and how often he always froze in panic anytime he’d had to take care of Yev back in the day, he had to admit that goofing around with Franny was pretty fucking fun.

And that also just made him depressed, because he knew that she was going to grow up surrounded by all of this bullshit—the dysfunctional family, Frank’s shenanigans, the drugs and beat downs, the mom with an ankle bracelet. Right now, Franny was just a kid—the neighborhood hadn’t taken its toll on her yet.

Luckily, Mickey didn’t have shit to do all day—he barely had a job aside from security for Kev and V’s practically non-existent pot side business, so he had plenty of time to play with Franny. If he could do anything with his life right now, he could make sure that Franny had some happy memories to cut through all the bullshit life was inevitably about to throw to her.

Mickey continued to run, lost in thought, until Franny caught up to him and sharply tugged on the back of his coat.

“I win, Uncle Mickey, I win! Now I’m gonna blow your face off!” Franny said with a playful scowl as she held up her toy gun.

Mickey chuckled and put his hands up in the air in resignation, turning to face Franny. “Alright, kid, you got me. Nice work.”

He held his hand out for Franny to high-five, which she gave willingly before pulling off her sparkly pink hat and throwing it on the ground.

“I’m too hot. Uncle Mickey, can we go home now? I think I know the way back.”

Mickey ruffled her hair. “Sounds good, kiddo. Lead the way.”

Just as they were about to start walking in the direction of the Gallagher house, a gruff voice came from behind them, mingling with the blowing wind.

“Mickey?”

Oh fuck.

Mickey turned around slowly, giving a quick mental prayer to whatever god that existed, if god even did fucking exist, that the voice he heard wasn’t the one he thought he had.

In the end, it was as bad as his worst nightmare.

Terry stood six feet in front of him on the ice-caked sidewalk, a lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth (just like it always was), his hands visibly curled into fists by his sides. Mickey took in a sharp breath, and tried to quell the wave of panic overtaking him. Calm the fuck down. Mickey tried to remember the checklist of what he always had to do when he saw his dad, a survival tactic he hadn’t had to think about for months: Keep your eyes down. See if you can smell alcohol. Look at his waistline and see if he has a gun.

Mickey’s eyes flickered to Terry’s pockets. No gun, thank fucking god. He slowly reached out behind him to take Franny’s tiny gloved hand, mentally cursing himself for letting them walk this far from home. Then he looked Terry in the eyes and swallowed. You can do this.

“Hiya, pops. What’re you doing over here on this beautiful Tuesday afternoon?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, his stance still aggressive, but he remained rooted a safe distance away. “Don’t make fucking small talk with me, fairy boy.” He paused and took a drag of his cigarette. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you around here.”

“Well, I guess today’s your lucky day. About time for a family reunion.”

Terry gave a bitter, menacing chuckle that sent a shiver of remembrance down Mickey’s spine. “Who’s the kid?”

“Uh. It’s Debbie’s kid.” My niece, he bit back. My husband’s sister’s daughter.

Franny looked up at Mickey, not in confusion but in wide-eyed understanding. Franny was only five, sure, but she wasn’t stupid; she’d seen her fair share of violent shit go down on the street in front of her, and she knew what aggression looked like—what it looked like when someone was about to attack. Mickey looked back at her, and ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a warning. Get ready to run, kid.

“Huh.” Terry threw his cigarette butt on the ground, slowly grinding the ash into the slush with the toe of his shoe. “Funny that you’re out here with her, all on your own. No one else on the street, not for blocks.”

Mickey exhaled, attempting to still his racing heart. On a different day, when he wasn’t so caught off guard by Terry’s presence, he would have ended this here and now; pulled a gun and put a bullet right through his father’s homophobic skull. But Terry was right—there was no one outside for miles, no one stirring behind the curtains of the houses lining the streets, no one to call for help if Terry physically overpowered him and kicked the life out of him. And Franny was still holding his hand.

“Yeah, well. We’re just goin’ for a walk. And we’re gonna head back now, if you’re… done.”

Terry held Mickey’s gaze, unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was low and ice cold. “When the fuck was I ever done with you?”

It all happened in an instant, but also in terrifyingly smooth slow motion—Terry charged at Mickey, fists raised, skidding across the ice in a blur.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, you deformed excuse for a Milkovich!”

Terry was seething with the same fiery anger as when he flipped the table at Yevgeny’s christening, the night he found out that Mickey was gay—as he raced across the pavement, all Mickey could do was think about how to get Franny out of here before his father’s fist connected with his face. He gently shoved Franny behind him towards the sidewalk leading to the Gallagher house.

“Go, Franny, go!” He choked out, before Terry thrust a punch to his stomach and Mickey doubled over, kneeling on the damp sidewalk.

Terry’s shadow hovered over Mickey, and he knelt down, grabbing the hair at the scruff of Mickey’s neck. Mickey could smell his breath, all stale cigarettes and burnt coffee, like it had been for the past thirty years of his life.

“Been waiting a long time for this,” Terry said through his teeth. Mickey gathered every ounce of strength that he could— thank you, Kev Fit membership— and crashed his own head into his father’s, toppling him over and pinning him down. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, and saw Franny’s bootprints leading down the street, saw a flash of a red scarf turning the final corner a few blocks down. Thank god.

Terry squirmed under Mickey’s iron grip on his wrists. “Get off me, assfucker!”

“Sorry, Dad, no can do.” Mickey could almost grin. All he had to do was knock his dad out cold, and this whole thing could be over—

Out of nowhere Terry’s right arm broke free, striking Mickey’s side and toppling him onto the pavement.

“I’ve got you now,” Terry drawled, and that was the last thing Mickey heard before Terry’s boot stuck into his side and he saw stars.

The sun had almost set beneath the clouds, casting a warm glow through the front windows of the Gallagher house. Ian and Carl sat in the living room, engaged in particularly immersive debate about the accuracy of cop drama TV shows in an attempt to drown out Debbie’s continued melodrama of reading her bad Yelp reviews.

“Nah, man, I’m telling you, there’s no way an EMT would actually get to the scene that quickly anyways—"

There was a soft series of frantic knocks at the front door, so gentle Ian barely would have heard it if the TV volume wasn’t turned to a low hum. Ian sprang up and swung the front door open to… Franny?

A tear-stained, snow-soaked Franny, with matted hair and a scarf hanging half off her neck.

“Uncle Ian! Uncle Ian, we have to go help Uncle Mickey!”

What the fuck?

“Franny, what’s the matter?” Ian tried to gently guide her inside out of the cold, but Franny stomped her boots and shoved Ian’s hand away.

“We have to go now Uncle Ian! A man is hitting Uncle Mickey! We have to go quick!”

Ian froze. Shit. There were plenty of people who wanted an excuse to beat the crap out of Mickey, most of whom Mickey could take— but regardless, Ian didn’t want anyone fucking up Mickey’s parole.

“Oh, shit. Okay. Franny, can you take me to Uncle Mickey?”

Franny fervently nodded. “He’s up the street. I was chasing him when we were playing.”

Ian turned to call over his shoulder. “Hey, can anyone help me back Mickey up in a fight with some dude?”

Carl put his hands up in resignation. “Don’t look at me, man. I should be a mile away from any instance of Mickey breaking his parole.”

Sandy darted into the living room, from the kitchen where she had been consoling Debbie. “Mickey’s in a fight?”

“Apparently. He was playing with Franny down the road and now Franny’s back here.”

Sandy looked at the disheveled Franny standing in the doorway. “Shit. I’ll grab my shoes.”

“Uncle Ian, we have to go now!”

“Okay, we’re coming Franny. Lead the way.”

Franny guided them down the sidewalk, the three of them casting dark shadows onto the roadside piles of snow as the sun disappeared beneath the clouds. “This way!”

Ian didn’t really know what he was expecting to see as they turned the final corner, the street almost totally enveloped in darkness— maybe Mickey pinning some guy up against a wall, or in the back of a cop car. But he was certainly not prepared to see Mickey as a static heap sprawled on the sidewalk, while the unmistakable figure of Terry Milkovich stood above him, pummeling Ian’s husband.

Sandy noticed Terry’s presence before Ian could even react to what was going on. “Uh, Franny, hey, can you walk back to the house please?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Ian’s feet were sprinting down the street. “Terry! Get the FUCK off of him!”

Ian could barely register his body’s movements as he smashed his fist into Terry’s nose and tackled him to the ground. Terry spit in Ian’s face. “Fucking Gallagher!”

Ian hit Terry once again, keeping him pinned down. He struck him over and over, not stopping to process if he was even moving, or breathing, or fighting back.

“Hey! Everyone calm the fuck down!”

Ian looked up over his shoulder—Sandy was standing above them, pointing a gun directly at Terry, whose face was now bashed and bloody.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, my dear Uncle Terry,” Sandy said in a sickly-sweet voice that didn’t match her iron gaze. “Ian’s going to get off of you, and you’re going to stand up and walk down the street back to your shithole house. And you’re going to watch your fucking back, because you never know when I could decide to come home one night while you’re asleep and make you regret everything you did this evening. Are we clear?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, panting as he stayed pinned beneath Ian. “Those Gallagher queers got you too, huh?”

Sandy cocked the gun even more aggressively in Terrys direction, her thumb teasing the safety.

“That’s not how it works, dumbass. Unlike some pieces of garbage in this neighborhood, the Gallagher family actually cares about each other. Now—are we clear?”

Terry scowled at Ian, and gave a curt nod. “Get the fuck off me, fag.”

Ian didn’t budge. “Sandy, no,” Ian snarled.

“Ian, we’ll deal with him later.”

Ian looked up at Sandy, who met his eyes with an expectant gaze, still holding the gun directly at Terry. It took every ounce of strength Ian had to kneel and rise from the ground—it would be so easy to knock Terry out, to tell Sandy to pull to trigger, to put all the pain he’d caused behind them. To finally feel safe.

Terry immediately stood, and looked at Mickey on the ground, practically unconscious and his blood mingling with the snow. Terry opened his mouth to say some final retort— but Sandy clicked off the safety of the gun, steadily pointing it in his direction, and Terry promptly closed his mouth again. He turned and walked away.

Ian was immediately at Mickey’s side. “Fuck, Mickey, fuck.” Ian choked out. “Hey, look at me.”

Mickey had definitely hit his head, hard—there was a gash on his forehead dripping blood down his face, just like the night of Yevgeny’s christening when they’d watched Terry be forced into the back of a cop car. He looked up at Ian, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. Ian quickly scanned the rest of Mickey’s body—aside from a few solid kicks to the ribs, his head injury seemed to be the only major issue. Ian gently ran a hand through his hair.

“Mickey, hey, can you stand up? We’ve gotta get you home.”

First, get Mickey home— only then could Ian actually let himself process everything that had happened, and swallow down the bile rising from his stomach. First, Mickey had to be safe.

Sandy leaned over next to Ian. “Do you think we’re gonna have to carry him?”

“Uh, yeah I think so. Can you grab his legs?”

Mickey forced his heavy eyelids open, hazy and disoriented. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes. The blurry outlines of he and Ian’s bedroom, cloaked in darkness, slowly came into focus. He could feel the scratchy crocheted blanket on top of him, but aside from that his limbs were so heavy and numb he could barely move. A dull pain throbbed in the back of his head. Fuck.

“You awake?”

Ian was curled next to him in bed, not touching any part of Mickey’s aching body but leaning in close, nearly a centimeter away. Ian’s hand reached up and gently wiped a damp piece of hair off of Mickey’s forehead. Mickey winced.

“Sorry. How d’you feel?”

“I’ve definitely felt better,” Mickey croaked. “What time is it?”

“Almost 1 a.m. You’ve been out for a few hours,” Ian replied in a low voice.

“Shit.” Mickey closed his eyes. They were silent in the darkness for a few moments, but Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him. “My head fuckin’ hurts. What’s your prognosis, doc?”

“You definitely have a concussion. It probably won’t be a big deal in a week or two. You don’t need stitches or anything, though. And I did some EMT magic on your ribs, which mostly just means I put ice on them while you were sleeping.”

Mickey smirked, his eyes still closed—partially from the headache, but partially because he didn’t want to look Ian in the eyes yet. “Franny okay?”

“Yeah, she’s all good.”

“And, uh. Terry?”

He could feel Ian stiffen beside him. “Probably at home, being the same lowlife asshole he always has been. Sandy pulled a gun on him.”

Mickey opened his eyes, and could see through the darkness that Ian’s own eyes looked puffy and worn. It killed him to see Ian suffering, once again, because of him— it felt like they were always battling something at every turn, sure, but in Mickey’s case, it was almost always Terry they were fighting against.

“Fuck. When I’m less tired, and my body feels less like shit, remind me to go kill him, yeah?”

Ian laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I almost tried that tactic myself. I think Sandy scared the shit out of him, though. We’ll figure out what to do if he… acts up again.”

Mickey knew it was a lot more complicated than that, and that in the morning he would probably be seething and grabbing his guns and marching down to Terry’s house with fire in his eyes, but they didn’t need to dwell on that right now. Right now it was quiet, and Ian’s body was pressed against his, and Mickey was wrapped in a warm blanket in a bed with his husband. They were safe.

“I’ve thought I’d lost you thousands of times, Mick, but tonight really scared me” Ian softly whispered, cutting through the silence. “I thought… I don’t know, when I saw you on the sidewalk, I thought after all the shit your dad has said, I might’ve been too late.”

Mickey took a sharp breath in, making his ribs sting, while Ian kept talking.

“When you were in jail, or in Mexico, I knew you were always out there, and I guess knowing that always kept me going. But knowing I could have lost you again tonight—I don’t know, it scared the shit out of me,” Ian said, his voice breaking.

Mickey mustered all the strength he had, and slightly shifted his weight onto his left side to face Ian, whose eyes were glassy. Beneath all of Ian’s macho shit the past few weeks, it was so easy to look at him and forget that he was still also that tired, scared kid from the South Side that Mickey met ten years ago, one who didn’t know if good things could be permanent or if other people could stick around. Mickey put his hand up to Ian’s face, running his thumb up and down his cheekbone.

“Hey. C’mere.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey—gently at first, like he was gliding his fingers over something precious, and then fully wrapping his arms around him, and burying his face in the hair on top of Mickey’s head. Mickey could feel Ian’s heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, feel the warmth radiating off of his biceps that encircled him. Ian pressed a kiss to the top of Mickey’s head, where his forehead met his hairline.

“I’m here, Gallagher,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s skin. “I’m not going anywhere. No one’s gonna change that shit.”

#lol I hope the first chunk of this is okay I am truly horrible at writing emotionally intense fight scenes #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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