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the-lone-writer94 · 2 months

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We'll Meet Again (Part 4)

Rex Brown x Female Reader

Summary: You and Rex have decided to continue this relationship despite all odds. But the problem is... secrets always have a way of coming out...

Age rating: 18+

Word count: 2,002

Note: A shorter chapter than usual.

My finger rested upon the bridge of my black shades. I groaned, feeling like a fucking asshole for having shades on at night, but anything I could possibly find to conceal my face.

I had managed to rummage a beat up diner which was about an hour away from town, where I parked outside and awaited Rex's arrival. I peered down at my wristwatch, and pulled a face as he was a couple of minutes late and I grew worried.

Sneaking around with Rex certainly hadn’t been easy, we lived in such a small town where everyone just knew each other, that it was impossible to step outside without running into someone. Often, we had managed to hang out at the Fotomat kiosk after hours, but that place was about one square foot, we could hardly even extend our legs straight.

Just then, in the distance I recognized Rex’s car as he pulled into the parking lot, as he halted beside my car. I took off the shades and flung them onto the dashboard, as I removed myself from the car.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair and walked around his car to join me. “I ran into Vinnie when I was filling up the car, and he was going the same direction I was. I ended up having to drive to Plano before I circled back.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s cool,” he said, before he planted a kiss on my lips.

“Well, I doubt anyone will find us in this shithole.”

Rex’s gaze drifted over the diner, which was in a metallic trailer, with rust forming at the bottom. The concrete on the parking lot was covered in cracks, with broken bottles and old tires scattered around.

“If they do come here, then they’re psychos.” Rex commented.

I chuckled. “Come on.” I said, as Rex wrapped his arm around me and we made our way towards the diner.

The moment we stepped over the threshold, the whiff of cigarette smoke and burnt coffee filled the room. There were about three people scattered in the boxy diner, as Rex and I took a booth seat near the window.

Briefly, I placed my hands on the table before I realized the stickiness on the red checkered vinyl tablecloth and pulled a face, immediately retreating. Rex took the seat opposite me, but it wasn’t long until bits of debris from the ceiling descended upon him. He flinched, before he got up and sat beside me.

Just then, a woman in her fifties emerged, she had salt and pepper short hair, and wore a baby blue dress with a name tag just on the left side of her chest which read, Ruth. Lines had formed across the edges of her eyes and just adjacent to her mouth. A faint layer of black eyeliner was painted across her eyelids, but was covered with a pair of gold framed spectacles.

A cigarette hung just between her lips and she placed two laminated menus before us.

“You kids just tell me when you’re ready to order.” She announced, before she stalked off.

“Friendly service.” I commented.

A twinge of a smile formed on Rex’s mouth before we inspected the menus before us. “There’s a lot of typos on these menus.”

“Or do you really think they have mobster soup?”

Rex chuckled. “I’m dying to try out the ultimate crap burger.”

“The menu is very seafood based.”

“I wouldn’t get seafood from a place like this. You’d be shitting all week.”

I pursed my lips. “Probably the safest option is just to get some fries and cokes?” I suggested.

Rex shrugged. “That sounds good,” he spun and raised his hand, “excuse me!”

Within seconds, Ruth returned to our table. Her piercing eyes seared a burning hole into us, and I averted my stare. “Could we just get two plates of fries and two cokes please?”

“Alright.” She responded in an emotionless tone, before she turned away again.

“So how are things going with the new album?” I asked.

“It’s good… the old man is gonna book us on a tour soon.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, thirteen hours stuck on the road with a bunch of guys in a tiny tour bus, I can’t wait.” Rex said sarcastically.

“Well, still you get to tour,” I commented and flipped a strand of my hair away from my face, “my mom’s just been badgering me about why I’m constantly sitting around the house.” I said, and then immediately regretted it. I shook my head, “sorry- you don’t need to hear me whine.”

“No, no.” He reassured me. “I’m just glad we’ve finally got some alone time together.”

“That, for sure.”

“I’ve missed you though.” He said as he nudged closer towards me, his arm wrapped around me.

“Same. Band practice has just been intense these days.” I explained, trying not to utter Billy’s name.

“Well we’ve got all the time now.” He said, before he lowered his head and planted a kiss on the side of my neck.

I giggled.

Rex continued to leave a trail of kisses, before I turned and our mouths found each other. My lips parted and he slipped his tongue into me. Then, I felt Rex’s hand graze against my bare thigh.

I moaned into him, he drew back. His face was only a mere inch away from me. “I’ve been waiting all week for this.” He breathed, as I felt his hot breath caress my skin.

Slowly, his hand found its way under my skirt. I held my breath, as my heart pounded against my chest. He smirked, as his fingers hooked into the elastic waistband of my panties. My mind raced, as I could only predict what was going to happen.

All of a sudden, Rex paused, his fingers lingered on the waistband. “Can I?” He asked, his tone was low and soft.

I nodded, unable to conjure up the words.

His hand gripped onto my thigh as he guided them open allowing him access, then he pressed his fingertips over my entrance as he began to massage the area, going in circles through the fabric.

I was suddenly very conscious about the fact that there was only a tablecloth that acted as a barrier underneath our unvirtuous act. Yet at that moment, I couldn’t care less, being utterly possessed with desire and passion, I allowed Rex to do as he pleased with me.

Rex’s fingers continued to go in circular motions as he increased the speed. My breathing quickened, and I gripped onto the edge of the table, trying hard to not squirm. A devious smile flashed across Rex’s face, as he watched me with desire filled in his eyes.

My breathing quickened, as Rex fastened his pace, his hand continued going in circular motions against me. Then, his fingers went up and down, and down and up as he continued to stroke my entrance and I felt the wetness down below.

“Oh god,” I moaned.

“Shh. Try to keep it down baby, we are in public after all.” He teased.

I threw my head back, as my hand continued to grip down onto the edge of the table, as I slowly allowed myself to be lost in the pleasure. Just then, my gaze drifted over towards the window where I recognized two familiar faces.

I gasped.

Rex stared at me in bewilderment. “Shit! It’s Billy!”

“What?” He asked in confusion.

Rex retreated his hand as he got up. “No! Billy’s coming in, he’ll see you.” I yelled, as the adrenaline began to course through me. “Hide under the table.”

“Fuck man.” He muttered as he slid down underneath the table.

Billy stepped into the diner, immediately his eyes locked with mine. He cocked his head to the side as he approached my table. “Hey.” He asked.

“Hey, what’s up? I’m surprised to see you here.”

Billy stuttered. “Yeah- hmm, I was just in the neighborhood,” he answered, as a small petite blonde girl joined him.

My eyes narrowed at the resemblance she bore with someone. Suddenly, realization struck me. “Aren’t you Tom’s sister?” I asked, as I pointed at her.

The girl averted her gaze and Billy cleared his throat. “Yeah… she is, we ran into each other and we got a bit hungry.”

At that moment, Ruth stepped towards my table as she set down the tray which contained two plates of fries and two cokes, before she stalked off.

Billy raised an eyebrow. “I’m really hungry too.” I commented.

“Uh-huh.” He said.

All of a sudden, I lurched forward as I felt Rex’s hand on my entrance, as he moved in circular motions again.

Billy’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I squealed, as I tried my best to repress the thoughts and control myself.

“Well, we’re just gonna eat and then we’ll be outta here… I’d rather you didn’t say anything to Tom.” Billy said, as he stared deep into my eyes.

“Of course.” I said between gritted teeth.

Once Billy and the girl had stalked off, I patted underneath the table cloth trying to motion Rex to stop. We were trapped here like rats.

I waved at Ruth as I tried to grasp for her attention. She pulled a face and dragged her feet towards me.

“Yes?” She asked in a monotone voice.

“I will literally give you ten bucks if you can help us get outta here without that guy over there seeing us.” I said to her in a low tone, as I carefully pointed behind me.

Ruth’s eyes narrowed at me. “I’ll open up a table cloth and you and ya boy can run off.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.”

“It’s not my first time doing this.”

“What?”

Ruth smirked. “This place. It’s where all the cheaters or couples who can’t be seen come to.”

I felt my cheeks flush. I slammed down the money onto the table, as Ruth returned with a tablecloth as she opened it up creating a safe haven for Rex and I to escape.

—---

The moment I returned home, I threw my jacket angrily on the couch, as I stalked towards the kitchen and proceeded to make myself a PB&J sandwich. After the disaster that had unfolded at the diner earlier, I was in no mood.

In the distance, I heard the thudding sounds of footsteps, as I cocked my head to the side and watched as my mom emerged.

“Hey, what are you doing back home so early? I thought you were gonna stay over at Scarlet’s.” My mom inquired. Something I had made up and told my mom earlier.

I groaned. “Yeah, Scarlet bailed.” I lied.

“Oh.”

My gaze drifted over towards the suitcase that had sat beside the couch. “What is that?” I asked, as I gestured towards the suitcase.

“I’ve gotta go to Vermont for a few days, it’s a work thing.”

My eyes widened, as I tried to remain cool, repressing the temptation to jump up into the air. “Oh, that’s sudden.”

“Yeah, I fly in the morning.” My mom said, then added, “well, I’m gonna go to bed now. You don’t stay up too late,” she ordered, “I’ve also made a batch of stew and put them in the freezer, I don’t want you loading up on pizza whilst I’m gone.”

“Of course, thanks mom.”

“Alright, be good.” She said as she stepped towards me and placed a kiss on my cheek before stalking off.

Not able to contain my excitement any longer, I lunged towards the phone in the living room and dialed in the number to the Abbott house.

After several rings, a familiar voice answered.

“Rex.” I said.

“Yeah, hey- I was just about to call you. The diner earlier-”

I shook my head. “Listen Rex, it’s fine,” I cut him off, “my mom’s going to be out of town. Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow night?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #pantera fanfic #rex brown fanfic #rex brown x female reader #rock music fanfic #pantera fic #rex brown fic #rex rocker fanfic #rex rocker fic

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fritzi2405 · 1 year

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The First Job

summary: V and Malphas have to begrudingly work on a job together.

warnings: violence, cursing, talk of cybernetic enhancements (idk if that needs a warning), meantion of scares like once

a/n: This is it, my first fic for Malphas and V, I’m still working on my writing style but I’ve improved since last time I think. As always english isn’t my first language so please excuse any mistakes (I did prove read once but it is almost 2am now and I’m very tired).This is also the longest fic I’ve ever written. I will definitly continue to write about Malphas, be that alone or with V. This story will probably be posted on Ao3 aswell :)

wordcount: 3227

V sat in the Hella, his fingers drumming anxiously against the leather of the steering wheel.

“Will you stop with the nervousness.” Johnny’s voice sounded behind V as he appeared, his form materializing in the Backseat. V send a glare towards the old Rockerboy, “Dum Dum told me his guy would be here within 20 minutes, it’s been about 50 minutes now.” Running a hand over his short hair V looked at the clock of his car to confirm that Maelstromer he was supposed to meet was indeed half an hour late. “Still don’t know why you agreed to this job V,” Johnny said getting comfortable on the leather seats of the old Hella “you at least know that Borg boy Dum Dum, you’ve never met this guy before.” V turned around making eye contact with Silverhand’s reflective, black shades. Johnny continued “The chromer could just Flatline you and take the whole cut for himself, bet Dum Dum and Royce wouldn’t mind not having to pay some Merc.” “Didn’t you ask me a few seconds ago not to be nervous?” V asked the man glitching in and out of reality with a sarcastic tone though he did somewhat agree, V liked to believe that at least Dum Dum wouldn’t double cross him like that but with Maelstrom you never know. Johnny chuckled “Just wanted to let you know my opinion and when you do happen to get zeroed by that Borg fucker, I can say I told you so.” V turned away from Silverhand’s grinning face with an eyeroll.

Dum Dum had called V up some time last week asking the Merc if he wanted to make some extra eddies. Maelstrom has been having some problems with a small criminal group that managed to get a foothold in their territory and with Militech still hot on their heels they couldn’t afford to lose any more Maelstromers, not fighting some rookies who just happened to have some luck at least. The Gig was simple, get into their hideout, try to stay undetected, rip some valuable information of their System and get the fuck out before someone sees. Normally, V would steer away from any business with Maelstrom, their first encounter being more than enough excitement for V. But he could use the edds and the job sounded fairly easy. Now, after a few very tense Meetings with Royce, bickering about the reward and after some pushing, agreeing to work with a Gang Member, and some considerably less tense Meetings with Dum Dum to get the important deeds on this gig, V was sitting here, in his Car, having to work together with some Maelstromer he never met before who was already getting on his nerves. Dum Dum had insured him that the guy he was supposed to complete this job with could be trusted but as much as V liked the Borg with the metal Dreads, he didn’t take his word on that.

It had rained when V drove to the abandoned industrial building, in Northside Watson where the small group of thugs had their makeshift hideout. Though the rain had stopped while V had waited, the lights of the streetlamps around him now reflecting of the Hellas water droplet covered Windshield. V sight, running his Hands along his temples. He hasn’t been getting much sleep as of late, his mind always racing and, on the nights, where he would pass out from exhaustion the second his head hit the bed his sleep would be restless, memories of Johnny’s past and V’s present melting together into strange lucid dreams. After more minutes of not seen any tell tail signs of red optics glowing in the distance V leaned back but just as he was about to fully settle further into his seat to continue waiting, his phone finally binged with a notification.

Unknown:

Factory entry, Backdoor

Who the fuck’s this?

Unknown:

Ur Babysitter for the night. Now get ur ass over here.

Johnny gave a snort from the back, V had almost forgotten the old Rockerboy was there, “Must be that Maelstromer.”

“I already don’t like him,” V said as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. He reaches over, grabbing Dying Night, his M-10AF Lexington and got out of the car. Johnny vanished as the car’s door closes.

The night air was filled with the smells of Northside Watson, the sound of cars rushing by the street and the hissing of pipes that ran along over it were audible in the distance, melting together with the clinking of the surrounding buildings old metal facades and V’s hurried footsteps, heading towards the back entrance of the big industrial factory. He slowed, approaching the corner leading toward the door, his frame reflected in the puddles below his feet. Scanning the area and finding no cameras he let out a quiet cough announcing his presence. A shuffling sound was audible from around the corner and then a shape emerged from the darkness. Nine red optics flared up and scanned V’s form.

The Maelstromer standing before V was a few inches taller than him, reaching about 6ft. Various metal pieces as well as a gold septum piercing glinted in the eerie red light on the man’s face. The short, dark blue Mohawk as well as his Leather Jacket still shone with the nights previous rain.

The man gave V a wicked grin, “There you are, finally, I thought I was gonna have to do this gig by myself.” V’s lips pulled into a thin line, “You’re the one who’s late, I was waiting at the front of these damn buildings for over half an hour, you know, where we were supposed to meet.”

The Maelstromer put up his arms in surrender, “I had things to do, calm down Merc” his deep voice laced with sarcasm. V huffed, “Yeah, sure, and it’s V not Merc.” “What kind of Name is V, lost the other Letters?” the man before V let out a hoarse chuckle, the metallic sound of his voice mods distorting it. V closed his eyes; he could already tell this man was going to get on his last nerve. Reminding himself to have a word with Dum Dum after this Job for setting him up with this gonk, he moved his gaze back to the glowing optics before him. “Yeah, Ha Ha, never heard that one before, already mocking my name and you haven’t even told me who you are.”

The chromer in front huffed, taking a step closer, “Chill, didn’t mean to pull your cord, tryna’ be friendly is all.” V didn’t back up, not wanting to give this Metalhead the satisfaction of thinking he could intimidate him. Standing so close V could smell the scent of smoke, metal and faintly, oil and leather on the other man. Not breaking eye contact the Maelstromer reached down, grabbing an inhaler from his pocket. Placing the plastic mouthpiece to his lips, he took a hit, blowing the Dorph’s smoke back into V’s face. The smell made V wrinkle his nose as he looked into the red light appearing again behind the fume cloud, glowing brighter now. “Name’s Malphas, now let’s head in we ain’t got time for all this chattin’.”

With that he turned around and pushed open the factory’s back entry.

The two men crouched down, Malphas diming his optics, as they made their way into the factory. It was lighter inside, V noticed as they entered what appeared to be a garage. The room and its old cars and scaffolding was illuminated by big buzzing LED Lamps on the ceiling. V scanned the area, finding no cameras in this part of the building, “smart entrance point,” he thought to himself as he glanced over to the Maelstromer next to him. Now, in the cool light of the Lamps above him he could make out more of the taller man’s features. His short Mohawk was indeed dyed a dark blue colour and he had piercings in his ears, there where scars running along the side of his head where real and synth skin met, the skin around his optical implants was raw and scared. Looking at him now V noticed that he had in fact seen him before. At AllFoods, while walking through the factory with Dum Dum and later on while fighting Militech, he’s seen him hanging about. V was brought out of his thoughts by a mechanical chuckling sound. Malphas was now staring at V, a grin plastered on his face, the metal pieces pulling at the corners of his mouth uncomfortably. “You fallin’ in love with me already?” V rolled his eyes; this guy was almost as insufferable as Johnny. “I’m taking that personally, I’m way better than some chromed out Borg,” came Silverhands voice in the back of V’s head. “I was just thinking about some stuff, lost in though.” V had no time for this guy’s attempts at riling him up, focusing instead on the door leading into the main building. He got up, slowly walking towards it, Malphas following close by. “Yeah sure,” he crouched down beside V next to the door, “but I wouldn’t blame ya, not with this pretty mug.” He gestured towards his face giving V another of-putting smirk. V decided not to engage him this time, instead he focused on the task at hand, scanning the hallway behind the door he found a camera, far enough away as to not spot them but still in Quickhack distance. Tapping in V flipped through the different cameras, most rooms seem to be unoccupied, there 3 rooms of interest V found, one what appeared to be a sort of hangout area for the group, most of them could be found there. Then a makeshift weapons room, it was guarded and one guy was cleaning a rife inside and then there was the security room, guarded as well and one masked woman inside looking at the cameras. V tapped out the security feed and shifted his gaze to the man behind him. “You know the layout of this building?”

Malphas gave a short nod, “Sure do, got it all memorized up here,” he tapped the side of his head with one chrome finger. “Good, bet their logs are stored in the security room, couldn’t find a server room with the cams, its guarded though.” While V explained Malphas listened intently, much to V’s surprise, “I can get us to that server room, are you 100% positive its only guarded by one gonk?” He asked his deep, voice sounding quite serious now. “Yes, I’m sure.” “Nova.” And with that the two men set into motion, Malphas at the front and V close behind, disabling cameras on the way.

They maneuvered quickly through the dark and cluttered Hallways of the old factory, Malphas leading V upstairs and around corners. The walls around them crumbling and some ancient looking neon signs still clinging to life, flickering on and off. They had to watch where they placed their feet, V bumping into the other man now and again pulling a snappy comment or a metallic hiss from synthskin lips. As they slipped past a collapsed in room, the Maelstromer in front halted abruptly, causing V to almost crash into him. As he was about to ask the Borg what his problem was he got shushed. Around the corner was the entrance to the makeshift weapons room. One guy was standing guard, the other was hovering above a table counting eddies and facing away from them, inside was the swaying form of the third man, still busy with cleaning his gun. Malphas cybernetic fingers hovered above the Kenshin at his side twitching with excitement at the promise of bloodshed, “Lets pop those gonks yeah, nice an’ quick.” V shook his head turning towards the man beside him, “No, our goal is to stay undetected ‘member?” The Maelstromer gave a displeased grumble but dropped his Hand anyway. “No fun, okay, you fry the big fucker’s optics and I’ll take the gonk at the table,” he motioned in the direction the two guards. With a short zapping sound, the standing guards sight went, he grabbed his face complaining about his faulty Optics. Before he could regain his composure the two where on them, V grabbed the guard pressing down on his windpipe till he went limp. The crunching sound of a neck snapping, and a distorted chortle came from V’s left as Malphas dropped the other man.

As they moved the body’s away from the door V spotted the Chromer slip the eddies the second guard was counting into his pocket. “What? He won’t need them anymore.” The Mercenary just shook his head. They turned their attention back to the man still obliviously cleaning his weapon, the music blasting next to him covering up his fellow teammates deaths. V sneaked forwards going in for another quick stealth kill but as he was going in for the grab he bumped into a metal case with his feet alerting the man. As he turned around face snaping to V crouched behind him he received a hard punch to the face knocking him down, his head hitting the side of a bench.

V straightens up, shaking of the close calls initial shock. “Quiet and undetected huh?” came from the side as Malphas flexed his hand. Huffing out a breath he turned towards him, “I had it under control.” “Sure ya did,” spat the Maelstromer, “Fuckin’ gonk,” he mumbled under his breath as he jerked his arm to the side, signalling V to follow. “Shouldn’t we make sure this guy doesn’t get up again and tell his chooms we’re here?” V asked Malphas with a hint of sarcasm. Malphas shook his head from side to side, his optics flashing with what V guessed was amusement. The red glow of them added to the dim lighting of the room gave it an eerie feeling. A cybernetic finger pointed towards the man on the ground, “He won’t be gettin’ up anytime soon.” A puddle of deep red blood already formed where his head hit the bench, he laid there twitching every now and then.

They soon arrived at the security office, no more altercations along the way. V made quick work of the one guarding the room taking him down easily, Malphas gave him short whistle before slipped past him and into the office. A surprised yelp was audible from inside, then a dull bang followed by a snapping sound and then silence. The door open to Malphas pushing the body of the woman previously watching the cams into a locker. His head snapped towards the door. “Well, what are ya waiting for? Chip in and rip their shit.” Shoving passed the Maelstromer V hooked into the small gang’s security systems, downloading audio files, planned routes and text conversations, the small red bar moving slowly across his vision like a snail. This could take a while. He could sense the ganger standing next to him, his leg pouncing impatiently. “So, Malphas huh? Came from V, his gaze turning to the Maelstromer’s confused face; “That’s a demon right?” The Borg’s head twitched to the side, “yeah, what’s it to ya?” Jesus this guy was being difficult. V just wanted to be done already, go back home to his apartment, listen to some music or at least try to get some sleep. He did not want to suffer this man’s metallic rasping any longer. “Just trying to make some small talk.” Malphas clicked his tongue, head moving back to the spot on the crumbling wall he was staring at before. “Just hurry up, don’t wanna stay here for to long. They’re gonna come looking eventually when their chooms don’t respond,” he commented, hand already reaching for his dorph inhaler again. The light blue fumes swirling around his head as he exhaled, his pouncing leg calming a little.

V unplugged from the gang’s systems and turned to his accomplice with a satisfied smirk. When Royce got this, he’s sure to be happy and the small gang group was sure to be sorry, V almost felt sorry for them, almost. “Transfer me the deeds then let’s delta the fuck outta here.” V’s partner in crime seemed to be growing more impatient as time went on. While transferring the infos he saw a chance to test the waters and see if he could push the Ganger a bit more. He motioned towards the exit, “why don’t we just finish the rest now, bet we could manage.” Malphas only shook his head, a dark blue strand of hair falling in front of the red lights on his face. “Too scared?” That got his attention. The taller man took to big strides forwards, his face now inches from V, lips pulled into a tight line, clearly agitated. V scrunched up his nose as the smell of Dorph and smoke hit his nose. “Listen here you little shit, there aint nothing stopping me from just crushing your skull right here right now but Dum Dum asked me to play nice and I owe him one.” A hand hoovering over the combat knife on his side Malphas continued, “I’m always ready and willing for some good bloodshed but I aint disobeying Royce’s direct orders also I don’t wanna take away the fun of massacring these fuckers later, they intruded so they pay the blood price, in full.”

Then he stepped back and walked out the door without another word. V had to hurry up, the Borg setting a quick pace. The grey, crumbling walls and abandoned rooms flying past them. Before V knew it, they were back outside, the sun had not jet risen and a thin mist hung above Northside. As soon as they were outside and away from the factory Malphas lit up a cigarette huffing a cloud of smoke in the air. Johnny materialized beside V, “At least one thing right about this gonkbrain,” but sensing that V wasn’t in the mood he disappeared as soon as he had appeared. After another drag Malphas turned towards V an unreadable expression on his face. “Dum Dum’s gonna send you your cut when I get back.” He ran a chrome hand through his short Mohawk his red optics then met the merc’s suspicious gaze, “don’t worry, you’ll get your pay, if we weren’t planin’ on payin’ you I would’ve Flatlined you already.” The solo merc was still not totally convinced but before he could get a word in Malphas started walking towards an alley leading away from the industrial buildings but before he walked further, he stopped and turned around once more, “Of course you could come with and deliver the deeds yourself.” The option was shortly in consideration, but V’s head was pounding and he really wasn’t looking forward to another meeting with Maelstroms Leader, doubting he would leave that one alive, not in this state. With a dismissing wave of his hand V declined the offer. On that note Malphas took off, his steps echoing in the dark alley he disappeared down.

When V finally sat back in his Hella a sigh left his lips; God he was tired. On the drive back a bing of his phone could be heard.

Unknown:

Nice takedown back there btw, V

#fanfic #oc x v #maelstrom #maelstrom oc #cyberpunk maelstrom #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk oc #im very tired #i should sleep #maelstrom malphas

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untowonder-gone · 2 years

Note

☠♥♢⚜☀☢❀❥♒❣ owo

the salty af munday meme ; accepting

☠ What does someone have to do for an instant unfollow from you?

Spreading any form of TERF rhetoric is going to get you blocked. Period. And I don’t negotiate on that. I don’t care how long we’ve been rping or whatever, the moment I spot that shit, it’s over.

On a less serious note, I also will quickly unfollow people who do clutter my dash with things unrelated to the fandom or their character. I will unfollow people who reblog callouts that surround an incident that could have easily been solved with an IM. People who use me as a resource blog and make no attempt to interact.

♥ What's the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

I was dragged into a huge overly dramatic situation due to my friend breaking off from a very toxic friendship, and it ruined my rp experience for a while. I do not wish to speak of it openly any further than this.

♢ Has anyone ever tried to steal your blog? Your headcanons? Icons? All that jazz

I have had someone basically steal my entire character, from her basic appearance to her history. The only thing missing was the icons, but it was enough that I no longer write that character anymore, out of fear that they will somehow resurface and claim I have stolen from them.

⚜ How many people do you not like?

answered here

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

If you want to interact, please reach out! I understand, severe anxiety is a very real, and now, more than ever, prominent issue. But sometimes, people really use it as an excuse not to even attempt sending in a meme or what have you. And it does start to feel like what’s the point of even following, or following back, if you have no intention to actually interact.

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

Supposedly POC friendly icon psds that turn brown skinned characters ORANGE. Any shade of orange, you name it, there’s a psd out there that will do it. I also put it hand in hand with icon psds that overly saturate or deep fry. Terrible trend, can we please move on?

❀ What has made you completely lose your chill?

See worst thing that’s happened to me rp wise.

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

Yes, but I’m finally able to look at that FC again without feeling nauseous.

♒ Thoughts on the fandom you're currently rping in?

answered here

❣ How salty are you feeling right now?

Honestly? I’m just tired. It’s a little past 4 am for me, but I’m keeping an eye on Frosty.

#soothsaer #⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 ›› ㅤ ❝ the writer is a marionette #⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐚𝐬𝐤 ›› ㅤ ❝ would you tell me，please，which way I ought to go from here?

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zingtastic · 3 years

Text

✨Big Apple Steve✨

The look is very much inspired by the recent, surprise Dish Granted episode, which was an absolute delight and only made me more excited for the next season.

#please excuse my shading—I’m very tired #I need to draw him more often #he’s very photogenic #steven lim #pretty boy #watcher #watcherentertainment #my art

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gretavanlace · 2 years

Text

Princess

Sammy Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex, dom/sub, impact play, edging, listen I’m a mess and you know it

*special thanks to our beautiful @greta-van-yeet for the gorgeous mood board

“Don’t pout.” you shake your head at Sam, as he yanks a water bottle out of the fridge.

“Not pouting.” he lies, striding past you to start off towards your shared bedroom. “Just tired.”

“Sam.” Your heels click aggressively on the hardwood flooring as you head after him.

“I hate it when you call me Sam.” he snaps, pushing the bedroom door open so swiftly it bangs against the wall. “I said I’m not pouting. Leave it alone.”

“No.” you fold your arms across your chest and lean into the door frame. “I’m not leaving shit alone. What’s wrong?”

“What could be wrong?” he’s taken on the snottiest of tones and you aren’t pleased with it. “I had a lovely evening watching my girlfriend’s coworker eye fuck her all night at dinner. Better than that, I could tell she liked it, so that was extra fun! You should call him and see if he wants to come over and fuck you while I watch tv or something, really round out the evening.”

“Should I?” You smirk.

“Fuck you for that.” he laments without venom, it sounds as though he regrets his words the moment he speaks them into existence.

“You understand that I have to watch girls literally lose their fucking heads over you at every single show, right?” you point out, making your way across the room so that he can’t ignore you as easily. “With you lapping it up the whole time.”

“That’s different.” He doesn’t sound like he’s even convincing himself. “Anyway, don’t try and turn this around.”

“I don’t think I like your attitude.” you lower yourself down onto the edge of the bed, watching as he begins to shed his dinner attire. You clock him curiously; even after all this time you’re enamored with him and a slave to the graceful and decidedly feminine way he moves.

“And I don’t think I care.” he mutters, yanking his belt through the loops of his dress pants with a zipping hiss of leather.

Your eyes widen, but not in surprise...breaking Sammy’s bratty tendencies has proven to be a futile task. Truth be told, you adore his mouthiness, though you’d never let him in on that little secret.

“Excuse me?” you question with a calm firmness.

His pants drop to his ankles and he kicks them away, somewhat akin to a disrespectful child throwing a mini tantrum. “You heard me.” is his flippant reply. Very unwise.

Completely finished with his display of insolence, you rise to your feet, silently taking hold of the authority in the room. Then you issue a quiet directive. “Kneel.”

Without hesitation, he goes to his knees. There is no conscious thought behind it, he is Pavlov’s dog, your voice the bell. There is a void of verbal complaint– as there should be –but he rolls his eyes subtly.

“Don’t sass me.” you snap. A soft apology feathers out of him as you move closer.

You remain fully dressed, right down to the heels still adorning your feet. Making good use of them, you nudge the tip of his semi-hard cock with a black suede toe. “Pick up your belt, princess.”

The apples of his cheeks bloom a pretty peach shade and your hands can’t help but cradle his godlike face.

“You like being my pretty princess, Sammy?” you don’t wait for him to respond. “You’re so gorgeous, I wanna dress you up like a doll and parade you around. I’d like to buy you a set of pearls and make you my sweet little housewife.”

A tiny smile quirks the corners of his velveteen lips, but, true to form, he just can’t help himself. “We’ll see how pretty I am in a little while when you’re bouncing on this princess’s dick.”

Snatching the belt from his grasp you bend forward to meet his eyes on level. “Sammy darling, if you were any prettier, I’d be getting ready to suck on your cunt rather than your cock.”

“Fuck...” the expletive hushes from his mouth on the smallest of sighs. Straightening back up, you eye him for a moment, toying with the belt. “Palms up.”

“Come on.” he whines. “I said I was sorry.”

“Palms. Up.” you repeat, running the leather through your fingers.

He offers his hands to you, palms on display.

“Good boy.” you nod, drinking him in for a breath when he blinks up at you, grateful for your praise. “You’ve been awfully mouthy and unruly tonight, princess. Do you think four sounds fair?”

“Yes.” it shakes out of him, but you know the tremble stems from excitement, not fear. Tapping the belt gently at his cheek, you remind him of his manners. “Yes, what?”

His eyes flicker up to yours and steal your breath, they are so stunning, honeyed and swimming with a mysterious depth you hope to never reach the bottom of. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your fingers travel through his glossy hair approvingly. “That’s better.”

You don’t give him a chance to complain or try and talk his way out of his punishment, and instead, you choke up on the belt until it is shortened into more of a strap in your hand and bring it down with a harsh, cracking snap against his right palm, then his left quickly.

A hissing gasp explodes out of him, but he remembers himself and licks his lips with a soft, “Thank you, baby.”

A curt nod is the only indication you give that you’ve even heard him, and then the belt makes swift, stinging contact with his hands in rapid succession.

“Fuck!” he growls, yanking his hands away, he strokes them together and glares up at you.

You meet his eyes and tilt your head thoughtfully. “It almost sounds as if you’re complaining, Sammy.”

“No...” he shakes his head and holds his hands out to you, silently asking for more, should you see fit.

“That’s my princess...so good for me.” you place a heel on his thigh in reward for his obedience. “Undress me.”

“But, my hands hurt.” There’s that whining he can’t seem to stop. Just when you’ve bestowed praise upon him, he goes and screws it up with his bratty back talk.

Grinding your heel down into the muscle of his leg just hard enough to inflict a dull ache you curl your finger under his chin, guiding his stare up to your face. “I didn’t ask about your hands, I said undress me.”

His mouth moves and hovers dangerously close to your stocking covered thigh, “Can I, baby? I just want to kiss you.”

“You can’t help it can you, Sammy?” you tease, pulling him in closer, but holding him by the hair just far enough away from your leg that he can’t make contact. “That mouth of yours gets you into so much trouble.”

“I’ll do better,” he lies. “I promise. Let me make it up to you and show you how sweet my mouth can be...wanna taste you. I swear I can smell you, you must be soaked.”

It takes every fiber of your being to deny him (and yourself) he’s right, you’ve completely ruined your panties and you can feel your slick all over the insides of your thighs. Yes, it takes absolutely everything you have, but somehow you manage. “We’ll see. I said undress me.”

With an eager nod, his hands slide your dress up over your hips and begin working at the straps of your garter attached to your thigh highs...you’d be lying if you said you weren’t imagining him popping the snaps and toying with the silk when you slid them on earlier in the evening.

“You’re a fucking goddess...” he breathes, smoothing his hands down your leg, dragging a stocking slowly down to your ankle. He takes a heel in his hand, removes it, pulls your hosiery away, and then replaces your shoe. “You’re my goddess and you’re so beautiful. Please love me.”

He begins working to rid your other leg of silk as you pet his hair and whisper words of praise down upon him. He soaks it up and nuzzles his forehead into your knee like a touch-starved kitten.

Once your stockings are tossed aside, he tugs your garter belt down and then reaches for your panties, but you stop him with a tsk of your tongue. “Those stay on for now.”

“But I want to taste you.” Ah, there’s the cheeky insubordination you’ve grown to expect from him.

“And you may.” you dangle the metaphorical carrot in front of his bewitching face, and watch him light up.

He reaches out once again to pull the soaked scrap of lace down, but you flick a fingernail against his cheek and his attention snaps up to your eyes. “You may lick me through my panties. If that isn’t good enough for you, then you get nothing.”

You catch the beginnings of a rebellious groan, but he cuts it off just in time and leans in, running his nose between your legs. The groan he suppressed now shudders out of him, but for a very different reason. Without being told, his eyes seek your gaze as he flattens his tongue out and drags it slowly over the lace, pressing harder against your hidden clit when he gets there.

“Such a good boy.” you sigh, raking your fingers into his locks.

“You taste so good, baby...” his voice is quiet, and delectably raspy and when your stare drops down, you are greeted with his beautiful cock, hard and straining against nothing but the cool, air-conditioned air.

He crawls forward, moving closer to your center but you shove him back with a heel on his chest. “That’s enough. Dress.”

That’s all the directive he needs and he’s up, tugging your dress up and over your head. He kisses along the length of your neck without permission, but you allow his momentary lapse of obedience, mostly because his mouth just feels too fucking good to scold him over.

You watch his eyes scan the rounded tops of your breasts displayed just right by your bra. “Would you like to see them, Sammy?”

He nods and runs the slick underside of his tongue over his bottom lip and then tugs it into his mouth by his teeth.

Your bra becomes a thing of the past with a flick of his fingers once you’ve given him your blessing to do so. “Would you like to kiss them?” again, he nods. “You wanna suck them with your pretty mouth, princess?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he moans melodically, setting your cunt on fire.

“Do it, then, pretty boy...” you draw him in with a gentle hand on the back of his head. “Make me feel good.”

His tongue, warm and wet, laps along your tightened nipple as you push his hand down between your thighs, allowing his fingers to play along your covered clit to quell the aching need pulsing there. He sucks and spoils them, nipping with his teeth, spiraling his tongue, humming softly as if there is nowhere on earth he’d rather be.

“So sweet, Sammy.” you ghost your fingers over his cut-glass cheekbones lovingly. “Feels so perfect, your mouth is heaven.”

The pleasure he draws from your praise alone is astonishing. You watch his eyes gloss and flutter up at you as his breathing accelerates, warming over your breast in heated little puffs as he sucks at you.

You pull him away from you softly and drop a gentle peck against his kiss swollen lips. “I think you deserve a reward for being my sweet boy and listening so well, don’t you?”

His reply pants out of him, a sexy, nearly silent whisper. “Whatever you think I deserve.”

“Lay down on the bed, princess...I want to see your pretty cock.”

The fevered pace in which he moves brings a trace of a smile across your face, that is rapidly replaced with a low sound of desire when you rake your eyes over him.

He looks like a god, stretched out and flawless with his unblemished skin and graceful lines. He looks more like a painting than a living breathing man, like if you touched him, the oils of your skin could mar the integrity of the art before you. If there is a god in heaven, he must gaze down at your Samuel each and every day and marvel at his exquisite creation.

“You are so breathtaking, Sammy.” You hush, taken aback by his beauty just as you always are.

His arms stretch up over his head, putting himself on display. “More.”

Your dear, Sammy...he gathers up adoration like the sea swallows the rain. “You are all the poems in history, every song, every smile that ever was...and I love you so.”

“Thank you,” his lashes flutter gorgeously in your direction. “...and I love you, too.”

Your line of sight travels slowly down his lanky frame and lands on his cock. Hard and thrumming with what looks to be an almost painful ache. Even his cock is captivating and perfect. “It looks like you’re in need of something, princess.” you tease. “Would your cock like some attention?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he shakes his head up and down vigorously. “Please? May I have your mouth? Just for a minute?”

“Only for a minute.” you concede. “And only because I want to suck it so badly. It looks delicious, so swollen and dripping all over your darling tummy.”

A muffled rumble of need quakes out of him. “Please, don’t make me wait. I’ve been so good for you.”

“Yes, you have.” you agree, crawling up to straddle his shins. You allow your breath to fan over his length and pull back when his hips arch away from the mattress in an effort to force your mouth to touch him where he needs you most.

“One more misstep like that and you’ll be falling asleep this hard tonight, Sammy.” You warn with a harsh edge that proves to him you mean business. “Don’t make me leave you this way.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” he whimpers desperately. “I just need you so badly, please touch it. Fuck, please!”

Taking pity on your beloved, you trace the flat of your tongue up the underside and then place a chaste kiss into the plush skin of his head.

“Again, baby...” he begs, frantically clutching at the blanket below him in effort to keep from thrusting closer to your mouth. “Please, please, please...”

He sounds close to tears already, but none are apparent in his eyes just yet when you lift your focus to his face. “Please, what princess? Tell mama.”

“Put your mouth on it...” he huffs, red-faced now and glistening with a sheen of sweat. “Suck me into that gorgeous mouth. Fuck, I need it.”

You lick a winding trail up, and then back down his length as it jerks and twitches, hot and needy.

“Goddammit!” he clenches his teeth and shoves his hands into your hair, stopping just short of forcing you down. “Just do it already, suck my cock, please, baby, please...” he trails off and sinks deeper into the pillow when you raise your gaze, studying his face with open disappointment.

“You were so close, too, Sammy.” you sigh. “I was just about to swallow you down. I was so looking forward to letting you fuck my mouth.”

Sitting back on your heels, you look him over as he begins to writhe around in frustration, yanking on the bedding and thrashing his head back and forth on the pillow, tangling his hair into a halo of knots as he pleads with you for clemency.

“Settle down.” you order, not unkindly, but you certainly aren’t babying him either.

“I can’t.” he argues back, whining like he hasn't learned a thing all evening long. “I–”

He starts to smart off further, but you cut him off firmly. “I said settle down.”

Growing reluctantly still, he fights to chase his breath down.

“Good job, princess.” you soothe, running a calming hand down his dewy chest. “If I climb up onto your lap and sit on your sweet cock can you behave yourself? Hmm? Can you be a good boy if I ride you?”

“Yes.” his flushed eagerness endears you to him further, though you wouldn’t have thought it possible. “Yes! I promise, baby...I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll be your good boy...just, fuck, please!”

“Tell me what you are.” you purr, climbing up to throw your thighs over his hips. “You know what I want to hear.”

“I’m your princess.” he sounds so meek and broken...fucking perfect. “I’m your pretty princess and I’m never prettier than when I’m inside your cunt. Fuck me, make me even prettier for you, mama.”

He rarely calls you mama, and when he does, it ruins you...isn’t he a sneaky fuck tonight?

True to bratty form, he gets his way and without further torture, you yank your panties to the side and grab his cock with your free hand, sinking straight down without bothering to ease either of you into it.

“Can I...” a sharp choking breath interrupts him, but he centers himself quickly. “Can I touch you? Please?”

You nod with your head tossed back in utter bliss, but he catches it and his hands fly to your waist. His long, slender fingers dig into your hips and you absolutely cannot wait to admire your bruises in the morning.

“Fuck, Sammy...” you pant, nails digging into his chest, grappling for purchase to hold yourself steady as you pound yourself down into his lap frantically. The room echoes with your hitching breaths, curses floating nonsensically past both of your lips, skin smacking together in an ever changing rhythm as neither of you are of sound mind enough to keep any sort of tempo going...it’s all moans and grunts and hisses of unrecognizable words as you tear each other apart, until he growls out, sounding pained...

“I’m gonna cum...” his hand snakes up your back and yanks you down against him so that your lips are flush against the shell of his ear. “Please, tell me I can cum, baby...please...fucking say I can cum...”

“You can cum, princess.” you lick at the lobe of his ear through your words. “Come on, Sammy, cum pretty for me. I’m so close.”

The whiniest sound groans out of him followed by a choked “Oh fuck, thank you, baby...” and that, combined with the heat of him spilling inside you shoves you over the edge right behind him.

You grab onto his hair, holding on desperately as if you’re afraid he might vanish into thin air, a beautiful mirage you’ve imagined beneath you...for surely this ethereal man cannot be real.

When at last your bodies begin to slow, you’re both quivering and stroking one another’s faces with unfettered worship, you are each other’s deities, you are the whole world to him, and he to you.

Silence falls over the room as you stare into his eyes in the faint moonlight creeping through the window. Words have no place here in these moments, no purpose.

Soon, one of you will break the spell. Sammy will rise from the bed and fetch something warm to clean you up with. You’ll laugh and tease each other. Maybe you’ll go straight to sleep, or you might curl up in bed and talk, or watch something mindless on TV, but for now, you are quiet together, and these are your favorite stolen, secret moments with him.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gardenofgreta @greta-van-chaos @moonlightbrekker @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @shesalrightshesouttasight @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @kdarling1 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @pardeeinsaginaw @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @ohgotthisfeelingthatyoucantfight @prophetofthedune @gretavanflowerpower @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @janegvf @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @avagvf @gretasmokerising @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @trplshotofdopamine @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @dakotadovato @joshkiszkas @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @kiszkashorizons @rhythm-of-space

#greta van fleet #fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #sam kiszka #sam gvf #sammy gvf #sam kiszka smut #sammy kiszka #sammy sunday #gvf imagine #gvf one shot #gvf x reader #gvf smut #gvf #gvf fic

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spiderman #marvel #peter parker angst

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stardustdiaries · 3 years

Text

Kiss you Goodnight

Pairing: Sergeant Hunter x Reader

Summary: You and Hunter tend to each other's wounds as sleep threatens to creep up on you both. Your bed is too small for the both of you, but Hunter doesn't seem to care.

Warning(s): Brief mention of wounds, and a whole lot of fluff

Word count: 1,538

°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°

“For Force’s sake, Hunter, could you please sit still?” you grumbled under your breath as you gently held his face, trying to clean the gash that ran over his cheekbone.

Hunter was sat on the couch that was nicely tucked into the living area of your small Coruscant apartment. Though he never wore anything with strong scents, his unique aroma of sweat and burnt teakwood flooded the air. Through the windows seeped in the golden light of the setting sun, painting Hunter’s features in a way that could only be described as angelic.

You’d sit and take in the view if he weren’t getting on your last nerve.

With a raise of his eyebrow, he offered a lazy grin. “It’s only a scratch, mesh’la. I could take care of—”

“You took a vibroblade to the face, Hunter!” you blurted. Your eyes refused to meet his, but you knew you were failing at masking the leftover panic that still burned in your veins. Quickly, you wiped away at the dried blood that had spilled from the wound and now stained his face. “Just— Please, stay still, okay?”

His eyes softened at the exhaustion in your voice. He couldn’t ignore the tension in your shoulders. Silence fell over the two of you, heavy and stiff, and neither one of you seemed to be in a hurry to break it.

Once you finished cleaning and medicating his wound, you cupped the sides of his face with such tenderness that he couldn’t help but instinctively lean into your touch. Your eyes searched his quickly. “You scared me out there, Hunt.” you sighed.

A frown settled onto his lips. “I know, mesh'la. I’m sorry.” His brows pulled together as he searched for his next words. “I just didn’t want you getting hurt out there. I guess I didn’t think it through before I jumped in.” he offered with a shy grin that made your heart soar.

You snickered teasingly before brushing away the locks of hair that clung to his forehead. “At least I have someone looking out for me, right?”

“Always.” he breathed immediately, chasing after the warmth of your touch.

Pulling away with a smile, you gently caressed his cheeks, mindful of his wound, and released whatever tension hung over you in a single breath. “Okay, Fearless Leader,” you said. Quickly, your eyes went down to the top layer of his blacks before meeting his eyes again. “We still have to check you over for more injuries.”

Another frown settled on his lips, making you roll your eyes playfully at him. “Shouldn’t I also check you over? See if you got hurt?” His brows once again pulled together in a look of concern as his eyes instinctively went over you, trying to catch any trace of a wound he could’ve not noticed before.

Your thumb smoothed away the line between his brows gently. With a quirk of your eyebrow, you met his eyes. “Do I need to remind you that not only were you reckless enough to get your bucket knocked off and get sliced at with a blade,” you said. “But that you also tackled me away from a ticking bomb?”

“Still,” he began, shifting in place. “I should make sure that you’re okay; we were both pretty close to the blast.”

For his peace of mind, you let him play doctor for a bit. Hunter was very gentle as he inspected you for wounds he might’ve missed before, always a gentleman as he waited for your consent before tugging at the sleeves of your coat. His touches were feather-like, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as you looked away to hide the blush that settled on your cheeks.

He spent several minutes making sure you were actually okay, not wanting to risk your health over something he could’ve missed. Hunter would insist on cleaning even the smallest of scratches and he grumbled under his breath over every bruise that covered your skin. You hadn’t bothered pulling away for the sake of bringing him some sense of peace, yet you couldn’t help but giggle after he had spent two solid minutes looking over your hands, searching for even the most minuscule of scratches on your skin.

“Hunter, I think I’m okay now,” you laughed. He still held your hands in his own, gently running his thumbs over your wrists as he continued his inspection. “You’ve been checking my hands for much longer than needed.”

Hunter looked up, his eyes twinkling under the soft light that spilled through your windows. “I know,” he chuckled. “Just wanted an excuse to hold you a little bit longer.” He said lowly with a boyish grin.

Your eyes widened at his confession, a shy smile forcing itself onto your lips. Ducking your head in embarrassment, you knew Hunter could hear the rapid beating of your heart, which only intensified the blush that settled on your cheeks.

“No no, c’mon, cyar’ika, let me see you,” he cooed with a laugh, his hands encircling your wrists gently as he eased your hands away from your face. The widest of smiles settled on his lips at the sight of your bashful look, cheeks still tainted a bright shade on pink. “There you are.” He laughed, cupping your face before planting a lingering kiss on your forehead.

You giggled softly, leaning into his touch, your lips chasing his once he pulled away. Your lips caught his and you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss at the feeling of his lips curling into a smile. Pulling away, you huffed a small laugh as you caught sight of the dazed look that settled on Hunter's face, his smile making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s finish checking you over and then go to sleep— how does that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Hunter nodded before stealing a quick kiss.

The next few minutes sped by as you finished checking Hunter for any injuries you could’ve missed. You discovered bruises tainting the skin that settled above his ribs, cuts that ran over the curvatures of his fingers, and you kissed them all gently before applying a good layering of bacta cream. With every passing minute, Hunter’s shoulders began to droop, the warmth of your gentle touches melting any traces of tension away from his muscles as the soft pull of sleep tugged at his heavy eyelids.

You smiled at the sight.

Your fingers unraveled the knot of his bandana, letting his curly locks to cascade around his face, framing his features in the most serene of ways. His eyes glimmered softly, catching the pale lights of a Coruscanti night that spilled through your windows, the light pooling in his eyes as if he were capable of keeping all the stars in the Galaxy within his very soul. The weight of battle had begun to loosen its hold on his shoulders, making him look so vulnerable as he leaned over, in search of your touch.

“Tired, Sergeant?” you laughed teasingly, eyes shining with a softness reserved for him only. Taking his hands in your own, you tugged him off the couch and guided him to your room, his steps sluggish with sleep. You helped him settle down on your small bed, fluffing the pillows before easing his head onto them. Feather-like touches brushed his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering as a response to your fingers gracing his skin. Draping extra blankets over him, you leaned down to press a kiss onto his cheek, smiling as his lips released a breath of contentment. “Rest, my love.”

As you turned away, a hand latched onto your wrist spinning you back to look at your lover. “Where are you going?” Hunter questioned; his voice raw with sleep rumbling through his chest.

“I’ll take the couch tonight, love. You know my bed is too small for the two of us.” you whispered, kissing the back of his hand to reassure him that you were okay with it.

Hunter, of course, wasn’t okay with it.

A frown settled onto his lips as he gave your arm a tug. “You’re not spending the night on that old thing,” he grumbled, his eyes still half closed. Another tug at your arm pulled you down onto the mattress. “C'mere.”

“Hunter, but you’re all bruised up; what if I hurt you?” you pout, tilting your head as he huffed out a short laugh.

Hunter brought you down to his side, scooting over to give you room as he wrapped his arms around your waist, sighing as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “You could never hurt me, mesh'la.” he breathed against your neck, the warmth of his words against your skin sending your heart into a frenzy.

He tightened his arms around you, pulling impossibly close to his chest. Your fingers ran through his dark curls, the repetitive gesture easing his breaths into a gentler pattern as his figure molded itself against your own.

“I love you.” you whispered.

Immediately, his soft lips pressed a lingering kiss onto your neck before his sleepy eyes met your own with a glint of adoration.

“Not nearly as much as I love you.”

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🏷Fic taglist:

@sageislostinspring @degreeinsimping @mysticalturtleenthusiast @franken-fan @huntermeshla @xlittlemissydjx @queenie-chi-cosplay @imalovernotahater @badbatch-simp24 @cpnt616

#the bad batch x you #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch hunter x you #the bad batch hunter x reader #tbb sergeant hunter #the bad batch sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students.

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door.

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

147 notes · View notes

heejojo · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can I request Enhypen's reaction when their s/o shutting them up with a kiss

enhypen reaction when their s/o shuts them up with a kiss

a/n: thank you anon for requesting! I hope you have a good day!!

Heeseung

you hadn't seen heeseung in a long time and it was getting to him so when you asked him to come grocery shopping with you he happily obliged. At the store though, things didn't go according to Heeseung's plan. Instead of you being all over him, the attendant was taking your attention away from him so he didn't say anything and just distanced himself. You noticed that he had stopped talking so you excused yourself and went to meet him. "What's wrong?" you asked. At first he didn't want to say what happened but then you continued asking then he told you, "We hadn't seen each other in a long time and he was all over you and you guys were talking so I felt really upset and I know it sounds stupid but I dont-" you quickly shut him up with a kiss to the cheek. "There, is that better?" you ask smilingly. His cheeks were red till you got home.

Jay

You both had decided to order food instead of cooking because you were both very tired from the date earlier. While Jay was freshening up, you went to pick up the order from your door and the delivery guy kept on hitting on you and talking and wasn't letting you leave until Jay came and said, "Haven't you delivered the order, what are you still doing here?" to which the dude now responded with, "Just talking to this pretty lady over here, she's yours?" Being irritated at his behaviour you want to leave but Jay starts with his, "Why you-". Before he could lay his hands on him you quickly give him a kiss to calm him and say, "I'm his girlfriend so what?" and then drag him away.

Jake

After much persuasion from Jake, you finally agreed to go to the Drake concert with him. You didn't want to go because you knew it would be loud but Jake had already bought the tickets for you both and you didn't want to waste his money so you agreed. When you were waiting in line while Jake went to get snacks, the person in front of you started asking whether you were single and in that moment Jake came and looked unhappy that someone was making you all uncomfortable and getting into your personal space bubble. You saw as he wanted to open his mouth to talk to you quickly, gave him a kiss and smiled at the person signifying that you're taken. Jake was so shocked he almost forgot that there was a concert.

Sunghoon

You were always glad you had someone that cared for you the way Sunghoon did. You had a bad day and you were still down in the dumps but Sunghoon decided that he was going to make you happy and took you out to get ice cream because 'it heals' according to him. He told you to sit while he went to get your orders but you felt awkward staying alone and went to wait with him. The kid on duty looked younger than you but that didn't stop his mouth from running and frankly Sunghoon was getting tired of it and wanted to shut him up. "Where's your manager? Don't you have any resp-" you cut him off my tugging on his arm so he could look at you. When he did, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and collected the ice creams and went out of there.

Sunoo

Sunoo got jealous easily and you knew it. You didn't have any issue with it because that's how he reacts to things but the day you both went to the amusement park and a vendor gave you free cotton candy and asked for your number, he got really jealous and wanted to shout at him for being so unprofessional. You knew he was going to start talking and wouldn't stop anytime soon so you just kissed his cheek to make him feel flustered. Just as he gets jealous easily, he also gets easily flustered.

Jungwon

You and Jungwon were having a live and were talking about random things but then some people began spamming the comment section with things like 'Wow, y/n is so pretty' 'Jungwon please move to the side, we need to see y/n' and 'she's so gorgeous. At first, his heart swelled with pride because you were his girlfriend but then they started increasing and he wanted to go off on them. Before he could even open his mouth to talk, you kissed him. The live stream ended soon after with his ears being a bright shade of pink.

Niki

You had a part-time job as a gamer and you usually played games on your twitch and played with other people. That day, a big account had wanted to collaborate with you while you played and so you agreed. You told Niki about it and he was really supportive so that day, he joined the live show. You were playing at your desk and he was in the background just watching you. While you were playing, your partner who was supposed to be on your team kept sabotaging you and you were upset. Niki came close to the screen because you were huffing when you got killed off and wanted to talk to the person and reprimand him for doing that so you just kissed his cheek and told him that you'd be fine. It didn't stop him from watching though.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen requests #enhypen reactions

253 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

between lightning and thunder|harry styles.

summary: he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, you have feelings for him, you know the drill.

“In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were.”

word count: 7k

pairing: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, a bit sad, Little Prince, some songs.

PART TWO: thunderstorms and shooting stars PART THREE: stars and fate

So, here’s my first official Harry Styles one shot (kind of two-part one shot), thanks to @peachybloomss and @laurieteddy for helping me out with beta reading. Yes, there will be part two if you guys want it. I’ll see if you like it, please send feedback, reblog, be kind.

The rain pattered against the asphalt, now bright and dense, reflecting the tinkling lantern that barely gave an excuse of light to the street. There you were, in that corner, shading the sidewalk with those sneakers that used to be white. You were getting wet, that was an understatement, you knew you would have a cold the very next day. You clutched your dark blue umbrella as you waited for a miracle.

You saw the sky light up and counted the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The lightning struck with such a crash it made you shiver.

It seemed like it was the worst day of your life. It probably wasn't, but that's how it felt. It is difficult to understand why a relationship ends. It’s even more difficult to understand when you’re an outsider. You were not one, though, not really. You wished you were.

Your best friend’s boyfriend, now ex. Probably ex.

Harry.

You saw him, right outside of the building where you were supposed to be in, leaning to give a shoulder to your friend. You would, of course.

But you wondered what would happen if you didn’t. If you instead went to him. Of course the imagination can go as wild as we let it go but this was just not what you needed.

Harry.

It felt weird, and you didn’t know if she’d seen her. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to breathe in. They’d probably had another fight. One of those loud arguments where both of them made absolutely no sense at all. The relationship both of them were fighting for but there was barely any relationship to be saved at all.

Harry.

There are secrets in life we all like to keep. This was one you’d kept for a long while right now.

But you didn't know how longer you could keep it. You were in love with your best friend’s boyfriend. Probably ex now. Who wouldn’t be?

It was the same old story, coming of age kind of story with no happy ending whatsoever and which led to this absolute mess, with every day your feelings growing deeper. It was your fault for becoming so close to him.

You saw him again, cursing at the rain as his hair was soaking, he only cursed between his teeth again as he was debating whether or not to go back into the building, he kicked the puddle forming in front of him and groaned. That’s when he saw you.

With your dark blue umbrella, and coat. Calmly watching him, not moving, not doing anything at all.

You wondered if he knew.

If he’d ever notice how your eyes brightened up when he was in the room. Maybe he had, all those years, with you in the shadows.

When you met him, him sitting down with some friends, they’d introduced you to one of his, and Sierra had insisted on pairing you up with that guy. Teenage years, when one escapes to parties and tries not to come back home drunk for your parents to notice. A Halloween party, you’d dressed up as Wednesday Addams, he’d dressed up as Elton John.

You had noticed him first, his green eyes had crossed with yours. It wasn’t really his zone, it had seemed. Sierra had caught his eyes, though.

You barely remembered anything from that party, it was like any other party from that time. Drunk teenagers, gathering around to smoke and play a bare excuse of beer pong.

It had been raining but it had stopped, that you could remember. You had gone outside, tired from the buzzing music that you could barely recognize, just loud strums and unnecessary words put together. Songs talking about material things and partying. Not feelings.

You remembered walking outside to the wet grass and you avoided some other people making out on the floor, Britney Spears making out with Frankenstein, that was something. Some other kids yelling through their phones as they assured their parents they weren’t drunk when they clearly stung like warm cheap beer.

You didn’t remember why you had walked out. But you did remember seeing him there, too.

“Got bored of the games?” He asked you, he was leaning against the wall.

There it was, the reason you went outside. He had intrigued you, why hadn’t he stayed with his friends? Why was he staring at the night sky? Was he that drunk?

You had crossed a few words with him throughout the party, nothing important or particular. Very… forgettable. You’d played beer pong against him and his friend, the one Sierra had insisted that he liked you.

But nothing too important.

However you’d seen him walk out. It had awakened something in you.

“I’m terrible at beer pong,” you admitted. “Not even risking playing.”

“That’s the fun of beer pong, though,” he commented. “Ge’ing your ass drunk enough.”

You chuckled. “Well why aren’t you playing anymore?”

“I’m too good,” he sassed. “Ain’t nothin’ fun in that,” he pointed out. “So, Wednesday Addams, huh?”

“Yes,” you smirked. “Be afraid, be very afraid.”

“You’re too smiley to be Wednesday, very pretty smile,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Elton,” you grinned. You didn’t know if the warmth in your body was from embarrassment or if it was the effect the alcohol was having on you.

He winked at you. “So, no beer pong for me.”

You rolled your eyes, and laughed a little. “I’m sure that’s not the reason why you’re here outside, your friends are having fun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I just came here to see the sky—That sounds so pretentious.”

“It does,” you conceded. “But I’ll give it to you, it’s pretty, can’t judge you, I partly came outside for it, too.” Although you hadn’t. It was no secret his eyes had staggered in your mind for the whole night and that the constant smiling had caught your attention.

He had smiled, you still remembered it to this day. “Haven’t had a clear sky in days,” he commented.

You shrugged, “haven’t noticed.”

“You haven’t noticed,” he sounded incredibly offended, “didn’t you miss this?” He pointed at the sky, he was just slightly tipsy you could tell. “The stars?”

That had made you smile and even laugh. “Oh, yes. I missed it, I just hadn’t realized how much.”

“You hadn’t noticed how much you missed this beautiful night sky!” His movements were big, hands up in the air. He even caused some of the other teenagers to stop making out.

“Shh! You’ve interrupted them!” You pointed out as the couple walked away angrily.

“Tha’s great! Look at the sky fellas!” He reached out for them.

You laughed. “Oh my god.”

“Huh, they can be horny teens else here. Why ruin m’moment with the sky and a beautiful girl,” he grinned at you. “This only happens in the movies!” He yelled again.

You couldn’t help but blush and cling to the red cup in your hand. He was drunk.

“In the movies though, the guy isn’t as drunk,” you mocked.

“I’m not even that drunk love,” he said. “I’m just concerned how you haven’t noticed the stars.”

“I had noticed the moon was gone,” you admitted. “Bigger fan of the moon, alright?,” you said. “Right up there, see it?”

“She’s gorgeous,” he grinned. You stared at it, bright and round, and you turned to him shining bright enough in his nose. “She’s the love of my life,” he stated.

You had chuckled. “It’s a shame she disappears once every month.”

“She’s reborn,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should learn from ‘er, huh?”

“Really?”

“Each month she rises up again and she’s beautiful in each one of her stages,” he commented, “no matter if she’s on her way to the darkness, she’s stunning.”

You only scrunched your nose. “We’re getting a bit too poetic, are we?”

He laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“I’m kidding, I like that,” you’d said. “We should all be like the moon.”

“Hm, but if we were, who’d be the stars,” he commented. “It’s funny, we take the stars for granted but y’know what?” He chuckled. “Each one of ‘em is very particular.”

“No one would notice if a star was gone,” you pointed out.

“I would, the sky would look sadder,” he said. “And even if I love the moon, everyone does really, the stars are what paint the night sky so beautifully.”

“Well the moon works hard to be seen,” you grinned. “I think we should compliment her effort.”

“What about the stars? They’re so far away yet they’re freckling the dark sky,” he smiled and then turned to you.“This does feel like a movie scene, innit?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“It’s not one,” he added. “Or else you would’ve kissed me.”

You coughed, blushing. You had felt butterflies. The kind of butterflies that hadn’t disappeared in all those years. “Yeah, it’s not—Not a movie scene.”

You should’ve kissed him, though. But he hadn’t kissed you either so maybe that was the answer you needed.

“Is it the Wednesday Addams in you?” He wondered with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, trying to get as serious as you could.

He blushed. “What would you do if a guy worshiped and adored you? Who'd do anything for you? Who'd be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?”

“I’d pity him,” you quoted Wednesday.

He laughed. “You do know her, great.” He kept staring at the sky. “It would be great if a shooting star passed by, would add to it.”

“Shooting stars, are they like the moon?” You asked.

He chuckled. “No, they’re one of a kind and shall be treasured. If you miss your shot then it’s gone, you should take the chance when you get it.”

“Never thought of it that way,” you admitted.”hm who would’ve thought a drunken teenager dressed as Elton John would teach me of this.”

“A wise drunk teenager dressed as Elton John,” he corrected. “You’re a lil’ bit tipsy yourself huh.”

You grinned. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Besides, you proved my point!” He chipped. “You hadn’t noticed the stars!”

You smiled. “Now I will, I guess, thanks Elton.”

“I love the stars,” he pointed out. “Shame they’re barely seen.

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart,” you said.

“The Little Prince,” he grinned. “You know that book?”

“Everyone knows it,” you chuckled. “But yes, it’s my favorite.”

“But everyone barely does,” he grinned. “It’s my favorite book, too, read it each year.”

“Me too,” you beamed. “Helps me out when I’m lost.”

“I always learn something,” he said.

You grinned.

“I’m Harry,” he had introduced himself to you. “Harry Styles.”

And it rolled on the top of your tongue every now and then, that named you crushed and cursed. It had lingered until now. Of course his stupid name was perfect, too.

You should’ve kissed him or ran along with his—had he attempted to flirt? Was he trying that? You knew you had liked him. One of those stupid connections, like he’d said. It had felt like one, one of those coming of age films. But it wasn’t.

Short conversation that you couldn’t quite put your head to it. Didn’t make any sense, if you were honest. You should’ve kissed him, and to this day you still wondered what would’ve happened if you had.

The story of how Harry and Sierra had officially met was his favorite to tell. He’d say it over and over, how a beautiful girl dressed like Puglsey Addams, because of course best friends always match, had accidentally ran to him and he’d spilled his drink on her moments after meeting you. How he had helped her in the bathroom to clean herself and they’d instantly laughed. How he had fallen in love with her the second he’d met her.

Funny.

They had walked out of that party, they’d probably gone for a walk. You remembered it. How since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

How since that day you always stared at the night sky and watched the stars.

Funny thing, he was the one to call you out for being in love with the moon and never paying attention to the stars, yet he had never noticed you. Taken you for granted.

You couldn’t blame him, after all, the moon was the love of his life.

You’d grown fonder of him, and Sierra had made sure you both got along.

“My best friend and my boyfriend have to get along.”

You shouldn’t have, though. Because with time you both were hanging out a friendship was forming, from his side. And then a growing feeling in yours.

Had he ever noticed?

Each time Sierra dragged him so you wouldn’t feel left out, but it was counterproductive because you’d fall for him. Because it seemed that his jokes were just made for you, and you couldn’t help but think that you were meant to be.

Maybe he’d noticed that time near her birthday, years ago, when he’d call you to bake cookies together for your friend. He probably had noticed then. Maybe he had felt something, too.

Licking a spoonful of cookie dough, and laughing against each other, how he would hide his smile, and how he’d give you those shy green eyes before avoiding a laugh when you’d said a very bad joke.

How both of you were tiptoeing and dancing in the kitchen, music playing loud, as you were sitting on the counter and he leaned against it, scrolling on his phone as he played songs.

“Okay, so this,” Harry had said, “this is one of my favorites,” he said before a guitar started to play.

“The Zombies, She’s not there!” You guessed quickly. “A classic, please, you have to be kidding me, play something difficult.”

“How do you know it?” Harry frowned, jokingly turning to you. “I swear—“

“I love them, what do you mean?” You chuckled.

“But you’ve guessed every single song I’ve played,” he pointed out very dramatically. “Every single one, I swear Sierra wouldn’t have guessed one.”

“Sierra has bad taste in music,” you pointed out. “I love her, but really, but she’s got great taste in cookies so she’ll love this.”

Because you knew him. Sierra dated him but you knew him. And sometimes you wondered how Sierra couldn’t really see his magic.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, back then, how you fit so well together. How your laugh would synchronize with his and how every single joke he’d make, no matter how stupid, was funny to you. The way you’d try to hide some smiles, and how the tension would be broken when she arrived. She whom he loved.

A usual friend. Should’ve remained as friends. You still were. You felt dirty each time they looked at each other, it hurt, so much. And they talked too cute, and they were always adorable.

You had to stop thinking about him.

Except you loved him, and you had realized it, that one time, around Christmas, one of those Christmas parties that you always had with your friends in which eventually Harry had joined in. You remembered how you got his name in Secret Santa.

Cozy night it was, they were cuddling each other.

You remembered how he had opened it, Love is a Dog From Hell by Charles Bukowski, a book he’d constantly mentioned, a book he loved. He had thanked you and hugged you and it had been the perfect Christmas present.

You knew that.

You saw them, kissing under that mistletoe that he’d jokingly placed on top of them. You wished you were her. Sierra being pretty and lovely. And Sierra having him.

But then he’d decided to give everyone presents, maybe for accepting him on your Christmas party, or whatever he meant. How he was the life in the party, and how he had made you smile.

And everyone got presents, and each of them proved how much he put thoughts into it, because he really wanted to make them. How he had given that one friend some brushes so they could paint, or a new camera to that other one.

You remembered how perfectly unevenly wrapped yours was, with that silly wrapping paper that had little Santas on it. He probably had wrapped it himself, you could see how it was cut, and the tape all over it, with a hand-made bow, so pretty. It felt warm, and it felt like him. You opened it, he told you you could rip it off, and you hadn't, you had so slowly opened it, you still kept that wrapping paper to this day. The Little Prince. As if he was joking with you.

He had only winked at you, probably unaware that he was digging a deeper way into your heart.

And you kept loving him, watching him from afar as they kissed over and over again.

How you’d help her with gifts for him, when his own birthdays came around, like when you told her to give him more rings for his fingers, because you knew him. And how he would share his news with you first because he knew you’d listen.

You wondered if Sierra ever noticed he was more than the guy who had nice clothes, and the guy with that pretty smile. Did she ever stop to listen to his thoughts? Those that came at 2 in the morning. Those you’d been able to listen to at a party, where both of you were away from the crowd as Sierra was partying with some other of your friends.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Harry had asked you, that New Years party. They had kissed at midnight, of course. He had brought his guitar, a new habit that he had earned over the time. You loved every time he sang, raspy and quiet. Over the years he’d sing more and more with you, and less and less with crowds. He thought nobody wanted to listen, you did, you always wanted to listen.

You only looked up to see her, she was. Dancing as the lights were jumping around with her, the music bouncing with her. Harry had his fingers brushing against the strings, barely stroking it, as he was so mesmerized watching Sierra. You always wanted to be seen that way, you never would.

You could never be Sierra, and of course, why would Harry ever turn to love someone like you? When Sierra was so perfect and lovely.

You’d never say anything, maybe Sierra did notice. But she trusted you.

“Yeah,” you had answered. You had been cold.

He could tell, you knew that.

“You’re cold,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

“I am,” you admitted. “Tis cold, though.”

“You’re never cold, though,” he pointed out.

“I am today.”

“I’m not cold,” he had said. “Want my jacket?”

And he had given it to you, and Sierra had seen it. And she didn’t mind. Because Sierra trusted you, and she trusted him.

So she didn’t mind when Harry had taken your hand to shove you into the dancefloor with him. Sierra had said it once: ‘he sees you as a best friend, I think he’s claiming you’.

And you remembered being silly while dancing with him, how he put his hands in fists and shook them in front of his chest, giggling to himself, and gave you that damned smile. And by then by that time you aready had your own way with him, always singing to each other, being stupid really.

Heroes by Bowie was playing, a song he loved, and you did too.

“Just for one day.”

You still thought it was your song.

And though you were the one to wear the sweater, she’d be the one to go home with him. So in love. It didn’t matter.

But life goes on, the birds sing, the sun keeps rising.

It had been a long time since you thought of him that way, he was just one more, another broken heart. And you knew it, that life does not stop, she did not either. And crying for a love that never had a chance to be sounds foolish, insensitive and useless.

At some point you did move on. Because you had to, and you wanted it to pass but then it would always come, how he’d smile at you and you’d think of it, the start that one time when you should’ve done something.

And it was weird listening to Sierra talk about him, she was so desperately in love with him. That’s what mattered, they made each other happy. And so, so happy. And though it hurt, you knew it had to be that way.

You were the one to listen to both of them, whenever they had a small fight or whatever, both sides. You usually agreed with both, honestly, but always took Sierra’s side. She was your best friend, after all.

And you couldn’t tell the world that he made you oh so happy, and you new Sierra probably didn’t even think of it, because you weren’t obvious and you had dates of your own, you dated other people of course, but you always ended up wondering what would happen between you and Harry.

It probably didn’t ever occur to Sierra. Not to Harry either, probably. Because everything was so platonic. Like when he picked you up in the middle of the night just because he wanted to drive around the city, whenever him and Sierra had a fight and he needed to understand her and he knew that the way to understand her was through you. And you’d end up sitting on the trunk of his car, watching the stars, listening to him, making him laugh until the sun was rising.

You knew everything about him, meaning behind every single tattoo, favorite movie, favorite song. You always had to stop yourself, so patient, but sometimes you couldn’t help it, your hand would brush his hair and you’d think about it, if you could only kiss him. Would it feel the way you dreamed of it?

An indentation between you and him, always stepping back. But then he’d smile at you and you’d want to close it. Please, please, please, just once. How would it feel? To seal the notch, close the gap.

And once it had happened. Nothing serious, really. A few years ago, around spring, nothing serious. Not at all. It was an accident.

Really was, of course.

Harry had been excited about Spring, and Sierra always said that whenever spring came around love was in the air, and Harry wanted to plan out a picnic for Sierra so of course he asked for your help.

It had been so stupid, an accident. He had asked you to go to the supermarket with him, and you were prancing around, laughing and having fun. He was always so sweet when it came to be so domestic. He was singing in the hallways as he was choosing the pastries, picking out the wine.

“Something in the way she moves,” he sang along to the song, hand movements as he reached out for a feeling with his hand, exaggerated movements as he threw his head back.

“The Beatles,” you said, matter of factly. But you knew the Beatles weren’t singing that version. It didn’t feel like a usual supermarket song, but he was moving his head and singing.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “However, they’re not the-”

“Not the ones singing, I know, that’s a woman,” you answered before he could fight back.

He giggled, “Yea, this is Phyllis Dillon,” he pointed out. “Such a song. I’m impressed, y/n, you didn’t know her.”

“Didn’t, now I do,” you grinned. “Unusual song for the supermarket.”

He watched you, tiredly with that bright smile that could light up the entire world. Sunlight.

“This is going to sound rude,” he said.

You raised your brows at him.

“But like, if Sierra and I ever break up who’s gonna keep you?” He joked.

You had laughed. “Like a dog?”

He scrunched his nose. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Oh, I’m most certain you did,” you teased.

“Did not.”

“Well I don’t think you guys will break up,” you had said, and you had meant it, because you really didn’t want them to. He made your best friend happy and your best friend made him happy. All that matters.

He smiled, “you think?”

“Yeah, I’m making sure you don’t,” you winked at him. “Also, that wine, Harold?” You asked before putting it back and choosing a better one.

“Thanks for helping me,” he had said. “Y’er always such a good friend.”

“Just making sure everything is—“

“Perfect for Sierra, I kno’,” he smirked. “And you always make sure tis perfect for me too.”

You grinned. “I'm the mastermind behind the relationship.”

And the problem was he had leaned over to kiss your cheek, you guessed in an attempt to thank you for being a friend, but it had been an accident or maybe you had turned to him, subconsciously longing for your lips to meet his. Barely a peck. Yet it had felt… electric. As if a lightning had just struck you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And he had backed away.

Had he felt it? That buzzing and flickering spark? That thunder You’d kissed.

In a grocery store. Planking a picnic for his girlfriend. Your best friend. This was wrong.

“I’m—sorry,” both of you had said at the unison.

“I—was going to—“

“I didn’t know—“

But both of you knew it had been four seconds. It’s funny, someone had once taught you to count the seconds between thunders and lighting. In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile.

In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were. 4 seconds had been until he had pulled away.

4 stupid seconds.

Could mean a lot of things, could mean nothing.

Harry and you had stopped talking for a while after it happened. Neither of you told Sierra, but she had noticed you were avoiding her boyfriend which brought her to doubt him. No she didn’t think you had kissed. She thought you had fought or whatever she had come up with.

“Don’t you like Harry anymore? Why are you not hanging out with us anymore?” She had asked you.

“Maybe I don’t want to third-wheel anymore,” you snapped. “Enjoy your boyfriend, Sierra. I don’t have to be around twenty four seven.”

That’s when the problems had started. Not between you and Sierra, but him and Sierra. It was no secret you had been the “mastermind” behind their relationship. But you had walked out of there. However it had been coincidental, or so you told yourself. It didn’t really have much to do with you walking out.

Or had it?

You had guessed you’d feel that way each night, with the light of your phone illuminating your face while the dark room paled your tears. You’d see his initial on the screen, and doubt if calling was a choice. He was never a talker, really. He barely liked to speak up. He was more of...actions. So whenever he didn’t do anything, you knew something was up. He wasn’t... really, he wasn’t like this.

At least a text but he didn’t like texting. Nothing. His silent treatments were like others. The ‘H’ is silent, you thought to yourself.

Funny.

Sierra had mentioned he had been distanced. It was around the time you started dating Daniel. Danny.

And you saw Sierra arguing over and over through the phone, and coming back crying to your shared apartment. Giving her your shoulder to cry on.

She said that Harry had told her he wasn’t sure about it.

Which led to the first breakup.

One that didn’t really last. But you remembered it perfectly, you were at a museum, date with Danny. Nice, romantic.

And then you’d received a call, Harry. He hadn’t called you in a while and you weren’t sure why he had called you.

You had looked down at the caller ID. He wasn’t a texter, you knew that, but—you answered the phone.

“Hello? Harry?” You answered, with fear.

Danny hadn’t questioned you.

“Sierra and I broke up,” he stated.

You felt cold. “Oh.” Your first instinct had been to call your friend. See if she was okay.

“I—“he sighed. “I… can I see you?”

“I—sure but—“

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in ten,” he said. “Please don’t—“

“Oh, Harry I’m on a date right now.”

“You—what?”

“Yes I’m here with Danny,” you had said. “On a date.”

He had gone quiet, dangerously quiet.

“But-I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

“Yeah.”

When you got home, Sierra had her door locked and didn’t want to talk to you.

“I need some time alone.”

And you had called Harry but he hadn’t answered.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four calls until he answered. Before you knew it, you were with him, driving again, he liked to drive, you knew that. To watch a sunset. As they said in The Little Prince, you see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.

And he was sad, and he was quiet. ‘Could it Be Another Chance’ by The Samples was playing in the background.

“I guess Sierra told you,” he had said, gulping.

“She didn’t,” you said.

He hadn’t dared to look at you. It felt weird, you hadn’t talked to him a while and seeing him standing there with tears wanting to come down.

He coughed. “Well.”

“What happened?” You didn’t know.

He hadn’t answered, and there was that usual frown upon his face, thoughtful, very thoughtful and dark if he wanted it to be. He was sad or disappointed. You didn’t blame him, of course, breakups are hard enough.

“Dunno,” he admitted. Endless nightmare when he didn’t actually say what he wanted to. He actually had that habit, but he usually showed it, with his eyes.

“Then?”

“Are you afraid of me, y/n?” He blurted out the question.

“Why would I?”

“Not in the--scary way,” he said quickly. “But in the way that we both know each other,” he said. “The way that it feels off.”

“I’ve never felt off with you,” you admitted.

“That’s the thing,” he sighed. “That’s the thing,” he repeated. “I don’t get it,” he said.

“Did you feel off with Sierra?” You asked.

He didn’t answer. Maybe he should’ve.

“We haven’t talked for a while so I have no inkling on where you were standing,” you admitted. “Not from Sierra’s perspective, either.”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said for the third time. “That’s the thing.”

He had only turned the music louder, and sang along to it.

“Danny, then?” He asked eventually. “Danny?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“And do you feel off with him?” He asked.

“I don’t.”

He had clenched his jaw. “Is it going anywhere?” He asked. “Or is it like any other guy you’ve dated?”

“No.”

“You like him, right?” He asked.

You smiled, slightly, feeling warm on your cheeks. “I-”

“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes’?” He asked.

You didn’t answer.

“I’m just, I’ve been wondering I’ve always wanted to feel with Sierra the same way I feel with you,” he had said. “Not in-”

“Harry that’s-”

“Sounds mental, doesn’t it?” He sighed. “To want a friend in someone you love.”

“Someone you love should be a friend,” you said. “But I…”

“Did you ever wonder about it?”

“About what?”

He shrugged. “If that night I had ran into Wednesday instead of Pugsley.”

“You did run into me,” you pointed out. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, could’ve been.”

But it had you thinking. Maybe it had been stupid, but you had broken up with Danny after a few weeks of thought. Or maybe led Danny to break up with you because you had been off. And it had felt off, and it hadn’t but with one simple question Harry had made, it had you thinking.

And maybe it was stupid to think that now that Harry and Sierra had broken up you could simply get your shot, but he had been the one to say it, hadn’t he?

Shooting stars are chances. And he was one and you hadn't taken it.

Just after you’d walk in to your apartment with Sierra, you’d seen them kissing again. They were back together.

So there was your chance, gone again but then again it was stupid to think that you could get a shot, besides it was Sierra’s boyfriend.

Yes, heartbroken you were.

And it continued, for a long while. They were fine again and you had to be quiet again. Halloween, Spring, New Years, Christmas, Birthdays, parties, every single season they were there. All the time. And they were fine. For most of the time, other times not so much, and the second, and third breakup came around. Yet, they always got back together, even with all the fighting and yelling which you never understood, not really. Why would anyone stay in a relationship like that?

You guessed that at the end of the day they still loved each other, and their fights were simply stupid and they always, always, always got over them. You didn’t, you remembered them yelling and fighting and just searching for an excuse to stay together, and then they’d kiss and forget it and they’d be calmed.

It still ached, to have him around nd think of the stupid ‘what if’ that would certainly never come because even if you were given the chance, you’d never take it because Sierra was and would always be your best friend.

Did she know? Had she seen it? The way your world stopped when Harry was around? How you’d make time for him or how whenever he was around you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Your bright and true smile, and how you’d listen to every song he told you to, or how you’d always be there to listen to him, no matter the time.

How you looked away each time they kissed and how you wished you could find someone like him and yet it wouldn’t be enough because it wouldn’t be him. Because his mind was the place where you wanted all your secrets to be hidden. His lips were the only one thing that could make you feel, or so you thought, that could make you get to paradise. His voice was supposed to tell your story, and his ears were meant to listen to you.

Yet, it was Sierra.

Not you.

Sierra.

And Harry would tell her. He loved her, he lived for her, spared his entire life and love for her. And though you knew they weren’t happy, you wondered if you were allowed to tell them. Maybe you were biased, and you did hear them say how they loved each other but then it… You could tell it was off.

The moment you had given up had been barely a few weeks ago, finally given up. You remembered how he had asked for your help.

“I’m picking out a ring, y/n.”

“Another one?” You had chuckled. “You’ll need more fingers, Harold.”

“For Sierra.”

“Oh, she’s not really a ring person-” you had started.

“No, I… y/n I’m asking her to marry me,” he had blurted.

You had paused.

“Seems like it’s time,” he said. “And she’s been hintin’ it. Doesn’t get any better than this.”

It hurt. But you had gone with him.

Walking through the store, seeing rings and rings, jewelry.

“I dunno anything ‘bout marriage,” he admitted. “It’s ironic, I love rings yet this one I can’t seem to know….”

“This one is pretty,” you had pointed out at one.

He had made a face, scrunching his nose. Always making faces.

“Why are you doing this?” You had questioned.

He had looked up at you. He knew why you were asking. Because things hadn’t been right but he probably thought this was the way to make things right, but he probably wanted you to question him. Harry couldn’t be tied, yet this seemed like he was tying himself.

It made you sad, how he had lost what made him oh so beautiful, oh so perfect. His freedom. He was willing to take away his freedom. Not because marriage per se was taking away someone’s freedom but for Harry this particular decision seemed like it was.

He didn’t smile anymore, not that much, he wasn’t as silly.

“She’s my moon,” he had said.

“Yet I remember you were a bigger fan of the stars,” you had called him out.

“The shooting star passed, y/n, this is what’s meant to happen, I lost a shooting star, but I love the moon,” he said. “The moon is meant to be loved.”

“Marriage won’t solve your problems.”

“I know, but it might make me get back to my senses, I’ve spent all these years with her, I love her, that’s it, no other explanation, and that’s--”

“Harry.”

“it is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important,” he quoted.

“Love doesn’t mean wasting time.”

And the conversation had continued and you kept playing it over and over your head, and tried to understand if this was your fault, which you were sure led to the fourth breakup, to the one you probably were witnessing now.

To this day, of you standing with your dirty sneakers, with two options. To offer a shoulder or to finally try and fight for something that probably would never work. To risk everything for once.

Standing with your umbrella, watching him staring at you. Wondering what could’ve happened if it had been Wednesday instead of Pugsley. Wondering what would’ve happened if you kissed him. Wondering what would’ve gone by had you made a wish to that shooting star.

You were willing to do it. Risk it all to count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder.

part two: thunderstorms & shooting stars

part three: stars and fate

I’ll tag some friends who might like this:

@saintlavrents @annathesillyfriend @tanyalooovesyou @harrysrightchelseaboot @harrysleftchelseaboot @wholesomestyles @whatevsholland @eerieharrie @pparkeramorr

#harry styles #golden #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #bl&t

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zodiyack · 3 years

Text

Some Good in Our Lives

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, angst

Words: 975

Key: Italic + small font = thoughts, italic + small font + bold = narration (Thomas narrating)

Summary: Wherein a brother's jealousy causes more than one heart to break, as well as two very important people in his life to be angry with him and the woman he loves to leave his life.

Note: Saw this prompt/challenge on tiktok and decided to give a go at it! The original prompt is at the end if you'd like to try! Also, sorry if Tommy seems a little out of character, although I said I wanted to try my go at this prompt, the key-word is try. (And I’m finishing that last request)

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @jenepleurepasbaby, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @i-love-superhero, @marquelapage, @peakyxtommy, @stydia-4-ever, @babylooneytoonz

'Deep down, I knew they didn't deserve it.' Please just leave

'Ridiculous.' Tommy thought, smoke pooling from his lips as he flicked the cigarette between his fingers and watched as the cheery woman greeted the other men in the bar. 'Those pigs don't deserve her smiles.' Then she made her way to the open door of the private booth belonging to the Shelbys.

"Good evening John, Arthur, Tommy."

"What's so good 'bout it?"

She turned back to Tommy, brows furrowed, "Pardon?"

"I said, what's so good about this evening? Bunch of drunk men and an annoying little girl who doesn't seem to take a hint."

His brothers looked down, avoiding the tension straining the room the best they could. However, they couldn't help but listen to the exchange taking place before them.

"I'm not a little girl, Thomas. I'm a woman. A woman who deserves respect at that." She spoke bluntly, eyes dropping into a glare. "If you'd rather me stop simply being nice to you, than that's on you." She turned back to the two sitting quietly. "It was nice to see you, gentlemen. I apologize for the inconvenience you were cursed with."

Arthur chuckled, "What inconvenience might that be, Y/n?"

"Of having him as a brother."

With that, she turned and walked right out, making sure to slam the door behind her. Unbeknownst to Y/n, and Tommy's brothers, Tommy smiled a bit. 'That'a girl.'

His actions weren't genuine, not that she knew that. He appreciated her greeting him every day, but his jealous side couldn't help but get the better of him.

She was an innocent woman as well, and everyone knew that the Shelby boys weren't great company for those of clean mind. He'd always said that she was too good for this world, but never once would he admit his feelings aloud.

His brothers flirted too much for comfort, the men in the garrison as well. He didn't want her hanging around them. Tommy didn't care if it was fair or not, nor did he care if people thought it was cruel.

He loved her too much to do anything else.

"Why're you so mean to her?" Arthur asked. He looked ahead at the woman in question, Y/n laughing with Ada as they drank.

Tommy followed his brother's eyes, "Why do you ask?"

"You like her, don't you Tom?" he chuckled.

"What makes you say that?"

"Many things...Pol thinks you do. Pol's always right."

'I’d never been more frustrated with that woman and her great skill to see through me. I’d looked up to her most my life, and I know she was just doing what was good for me, Arthur too, but I was an idiot.'

“Pol also has no place in this.”

“You can say that Tom, but I side with her on this one.” He shook his head and continued to drink peacefully.

Thomas became tormented with thoughts of the simple conversation. Things he knew to be false, such as Arthur chasing Y/n’s affection, came to mind and made him grow an even deeper shade of red...figuratively that is. The blinder was skilled in keeping a blank facade.

After he’d decided that he’d had just about enough with the trouble his mind was causing him, he stood up and walked to the women he and Arthur had been watching.

“Y/n.”

She paused, laughter falling quiet, and turned, the joy on her face suddenly dropping. Tommy would be a liar if he were to say that his heart didn’t ache at her response, but he is also far too stubborn to openly admit such.

“Leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said leave, Y/n. The pub is no place for silly little girls. You too Ada, you best be off as well.”

“You’re just as much in charge of me as you are of her,” Ada scoffed.

“I didn’t ask whether I was in charge of you or not. I told you to leave.”

The pub slowly began to grow quiet as more and more people started to stare at the event unfolding in front of them. “I’ll do no such thing, Thomas.” Y/n crossed her arms.

“Did I ask if you would?”

“Did I ask if you asked?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m tired of your childishness-” bar.

’I tried to plead, “Please, just go home, this isn’t a safe place”...but I was fool who persistently chose to use cruelty over simply saying those three daunting words.'

“And I’m tired of you treating me like a child.” Y/n nodded.

“Then why don’t you grow up and act like a damn woman?” His words were, just as he’d said, childish and his argument was weak. However, Y/n had been yelled at by the man she once looked to with great admiration far too much tonight.

Gasps sounded throughout the room, Tommy clenched his jaw, and Y/n stood her ground with knitted brows. They stood like that for a moment or two, neither making a move until Y/n looked around. She looked back to Arthur and gave him a sorry nod before turning and leaving the bar quietly.

The pub never once returned to rowdiness that night.

"Where's Y/n?"

Arthur lifted his head, eyes darting back and forth. "You didn't hear?" Thomas shook his head, causing Arthur to sigh. He felt great sympathy for his brother but he also felt somewhat angry with him.

"She had it, really Tom. Broke her good, that you did." A weak chuckle left his mouth, attempting to hide the true sadness visible on his features.

"Not just that, Tom, but you pushed her past the edge. She moved to America, said to tell you she's sorry for being such an inconvenience." John rose from his seat, anger in his eyes, "Had to go an' ruin some good in our lives didn't you?"

All he could do was take a seat and look down in shame. He did this. He was the cause of her leaving, and he knew it. As he lit a cigarette, he thought to himself. Not only did he hurt his brothers, but he hurt her.

'Deep down, I knew they didn't deserve it.'

I suck at conflict lmao

Write a short story or make a short film with a narrator and have the beginning of the story start with them saying "deep down, I knew they didn't deserve it." and the narrator is like jealous of another character because something good happens to them and then the narrator does something- ruins their life, spreads nasty rumors about them, something like that, but at the end, the same line is said. "Deep down, I knew they didn't deserve it."

The first time, it's said with jealousy, the second, it's an admission of guilt.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #x reader #zodiyack #angst #prompt #tiktok #thomas shelby x reader #reader insert #all readers #cillian murphy imagine #tommy shelby imagine #imagine

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strange-lace · 3 years

Text

Comfort & Realization

A gift for @winterpower98 since it’s her birthday! Below is some shadowpeach hurt/comfort for her Mentorswap AU, enjoy!

Content warning for descriptions of a character having a panic attack.

Wukong wasn’t sure when it started happening. This… truce between him and Macaque.

If he had to try and pinpoint it, it would likely be the first time they stumbled upon each other in Mei’s apartment while the mechanic wasn’t there. Where they were both far too exhausted that instead of fighting, they simply just… hung out around each other. Not much talking. Just simply finding quiet comfort in each other, two people who just felt beat down by life. Two people who simply needed rest and peace.

They had silently agreed that they wouldn’t speak of their meeting after waking up snuggled close to one another. That this was a one-time thing and would never happen again.

Or at least, that was the plan.

But they kept running into each other at Mei’s apartment. And every time, they kept coming up with excuses to put the façade that them hanging around each other was only done begrudgingly. And every time, they’d end up falling asleep on Mei’s couch out of sheer exhaustion for her to inevitably find late at night after a long day at the shop. And every single time, Mei would simply smile at the sight of the two and leave them after laying a blanket over the two of them.

Well and perhaps after taking a photo… or several.

She found them adorable, so sue her.

Regardless, while Wukong would only admit it on the threat of death… he had found himself genuinely enjoying Macaque’s company during those quiet moments of truce. Moments where he didn’t have to put on the mask of still being the cocky, energetic young man everyone saw him as and instead could let it drop. Macaque didn’t ask questions or try to prod, he simply gave Wukong a look of concern and didn’t protest if he sat closer to the monkey demon than necessary.

It was… nice. A lot nicer than he wanted to admit.

But, like seemingly everything in Wukong’s life, it had to change. Quickly, suddenly, and uncomfortably.

And what’s worse is that he couldn’t blame anything aside from things he had been holding down, repressing, since the very beginning. When things came crumbling down. Things he couldn’t ignore anymore.

He just couldn’t.

It had started well enough, Wukong allowing himself a breather after defeating another demon that thought they could take the staff for themselves. But they certainly put up a good fight, even giving him a couple of close calls that could have been bad if Bajie hadn’t screamed out a warning to him at just the right moment. That certainly let his heart thundering in his chest, even after the danger was long gone.

And yet Wukong couldn’t help but smile as his friends were quick to rush him into a crushing hug filled with relief. Bajie especially, despite his claims to the contrary.

“Nice to see that you still love me Bagel.”

“Call me that again and I will suplex your skinny ass.”

Tang, Sandy, and Bai Long could only chuckle at the two as they bicker back and forth, the familiar sounds and routine bringing a surprising amount of comfort to Wukong. Things weren’t quite the same as before, of course. But it was enough to slowly start putting his racing heart at ease and he slowly had started to become comfortable.

Until he saw a flash of red hair in his peripheral vision. A shade of red that he knew anywhere.

And his eyes met with Red’s, who was staring at him in shock from across the plaza.

It felt like time had stopped.

Wukong could faintly hear his friends calling his name and yet it only sounded like muffled echoes. All that his mind could register was the jackhammer beat of his heart and how Red seemed to be weighed down by… Wukong didn’t know what. Guilt? Sadness? Self-loathing? He didn’t know.

All the young man knew right in that moment was that he needed to leave. Now.

And that he did. It was all a blur of panic and fear for him. He might have heard Bajie and Tang call out to him as he had the staff take him away, but all Wukong could hear was his skyrocketing pulse and feel the impending nausea curdled his stomach. He just wanted to get away to somewhere safe where nobody would find him. Where Red wouldn’t find him or be able to even see him.

Wukong stumbled into Mei’s apartment, breathing uneven and tears already brimming his eyes. His chest felt tight, as if still in the vice grip of the demon he fought earlier, and his legs wobbly that it was a minor miracle that he was able to make it to the couch. The young man collapsed on to the sofa and curled into a fetal position, unable to hear anything but his heartbeat.

Unable to see anything except the sight of his former father figure for the first time in months.

Not since he lied to Wukong, stole his powers, tried to kill is mentor and nearly killed him in the worst way possible during the process.

Wukong thought with how long it had been that maybe the sight of Red wouldn’t hurt anymore.

He was wrong. It had hurt even worse than before.

In the dark quiet of Mei’s apartment, Wukong was left to quietly sob and spiral back down to the memories of where everything changed. The shock of having his powers ripped from him by someone he thought he trusted. Nearly being buried alive, something that gave still gave him nightmares to remember. The stab of betrayal. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

He stopped completely. Breath, thoughts, and all. There was a hand on his shoulder.

Before Wukong could lash out at any possible threat, he caught sight of familiar black fur and ridged ears. It was Macaque, eyes soft with worry despite the poor attempt of a smirk to hide it.

“Hey… you okay there, monkey wannabe? Did something happen?”

That was the needle to Wukong’s metaphorical balloon of anxiety, stress, and heartbreak.

Quiet whimpers became full-on sobs and Macaque stumbled back as Wukong clung to him, desperate for comfort. Countless questions were running through the demon’s head, wondering what could have possibly left someone like Wukong in such a state. But he left them on the backburner of his mind.

Now was definitely not the time to ask questions.

Instead, he silently held Wukong, stroking his back to offer comfort.

Macaque wasn’t sure how long they were there but eventually, Wukong’s sobs died down and yet he still continued to cling to the other. He was tired and cold; Macaque was comforting and warm. His fur was surprisingly soft and smelled faintly of jasmine.

“You… feel better now?”

“…A little. Thanks Macaque.” Wukong’s voice was scratchy from all his crying, eyes red as well, yet he gave the other a weak smile of gratitude.

He froze. He called him Macaque. Wukong never called him by his actual name. It was always ‘Hot Topic reject’ or just ‘Mac’, never his full name.

Macaque liked how it sounded when Wukong said his name.

Oh. Oh no.

“Uh, no problem. Do you want me to-?” He stopped as he felt Wukong squeeze tighter around his shoulders, burying his face in the crook of the demon’s neck.

“Stay. Please.” He had never heard him sound so small.

“Okay, I’ll stay, just stop with the puppy dog eyes,” Macaque grumbled, ignoring the chuckles which rumbled through Wukong’s chest. He huffed, silently wrapping his tail around the other’s waist in hopes it would go unnoticed.

“Sorry if I got your shoulder soggy Macaque,” Wukong mumbled, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Thankfully, that kept him from noticing the demon’s cheeks turn red as he came to realize just how much he liked the sound of his name when it came from his supposed nemesis. Enough that Macaque was starting to hope that Wukong would continue to call him by that name after all of… this.

“Don’t worry about it… Wukong.”

“Hm… I like how you say my name.” Macaque’s face was now completely red, right to the tips of his ears.

Oh no!

“Well, if you want… I could just keep calling you that instead of ‘monkey wannabe’. But only if you stop calling me a Hot Topic reject. Do we have a deal?”

Wukong yawned, allowing the demon to see the others tiny fangs and while Macaque would carry it to his grave, he found it extremely adorable.

“Deal. I like calling you… Macaque more anyway.” He let out another yawn. “I’m just gonna, rest my eyes for a bit.”

Wukong was immediately out like a light.

And as Macaque stared at the young man’s face, now much more relaxed in the throes of sleep, he knew he was completely gone. And it had only taken him now to realize it. A part of him was tempted to immediately do something about it, start courting Wukong, but he held himself back.

He had plenty of time. For now, he would just enjoy the moment. And maybe… rest his eyes for a moment too.

Macaque was also immediately out after he closed his eyes.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mentorswap au #shadowpeach #sun wukong #macaque #my writing #fanfiction

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