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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #dabi #bnha fanfiction #bee.writes

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pixielix · 3 years

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୭̥⋆*｡ royal christmas!au felix

pairing: prince!felix + gn journalist!reader genre: fluff, slight enemies-to-lovers word count: 1.7k warnings: none ― @districtninewriters’ winter fic exchange for the lovely @freckledberries

a/n: hey jules :] i’m so happy i could write this for u. ur someone who’s been so sweet to me since the very start, i’m so grateful for u !! i hope u have a merry christmas n happy holidays <3 love, angie

it’s infuriating that the prince still looks as good as he does in the world’s ugliest christmas sweater

he meanders through a crowd of thousands carrying a subtle air of grace that catches everyone’s eye and the kind of exuberant warmth that holds their attention

it feels like every movement he makes is filled with an intention to charm

one example is his habit of pushing back his hair after he bows

fingers weaving back through strands of strawberry blonde that gently frame his freckled cheeks

even you can’t deny he’s almost enchanting to watch

but it doesn’t make it any less excruciating that you’re being paid a mediocre wage to watch him smile and shake hands for hours on end

you don’t hate the prince, or anyone from the royal family really, but you hoped that your first assignment as a real journalist would be something that you’re actually passionate about

and unlike everyone else in the country, you really couldn’t care less about the royals

the feeling’s somewhat mutual

it’s a well-known fact that the royals are ‘indifferent’ to journalists

they say if the king had his way, he’d have banned every news outlet in the country years ago

maybe that’s why felix’s eyes shift to the opposite direction whenever he sees someone with a camera and a bright red press lanyard

so naturally, when you catch him trying to escape his own guards and make an early escape from the winter parade, his first instinct is to put on a charming smile and try to slither his way out of the situation

“your highness?” you find him straddling a wooden fence at the back of the park just as you’re stepping away from the crowded parade to get some air

his lips stretch into a bashful grin, avoiding your eyes as he swings one leg back over the fence and lands on both feet in front of you

“hey uh.. how did you know it was me?”

“the sweater” you point a finger at the the tinsel-covered, burgundy fabric still visible under the hem of his hoodie, unintentionally grimacing at the sight of it

“oh… is it that bad?”

“to be honest, it’s the ugliest thing i’ve ever seen. uh- no offense-” you blurt out, eyebrows knit together apologetically as soon as you realise you just insulted the prince

“none taken” he breathes a soft chuckle, “thank you for your honesty”

you both stand there in a stalemate for a few seconds, feet shuffling awkwardly in the snow as you carefully consider what comes next

felix’s eyes grow increasingly troubled as he realises how screwed he is if you rat him out to the guards, or worse, to the media

as desperate as he was to get away from the crowds and have the day to himself, ‘runaway prince’ wouldn’t be a good look

meanwhile, you have the thrilling realisation that if the prince were to somehow slip away, there’d be no need for you to stick around

sure you’d come back to the boss empty-handed, but at least you could save him and yourself from many more brain-numbing hours of smiling and shaking hands

“go.”

“what?”

“i won’t tell anyone, i promise” you assure him

“really? why should i trust you?” felix quirks his brow in suspicion as he leans back against the fence with arms crossed over his chest

“cause i want to get out of here just as badly as you do”

both of your heads whip around at the sound of footsteps approaching

“go.” you repeat firmly in a hushed tone

before he can argue, a group of his guards falls into view

“your highness, please, come back! just one more question!” you yell, but in the complete opposite direction of the park, diverting their attention and giving felix enough time to jump the fence and hide in the bushes

he peeks out and you turn back towards him with a relieved smile

“merry christmas” you mouth

all he can do is return the smile, watching speechlessly as you turn and walk away

the next time you’re assigned coverage of the prince’s activities is at the annual christmas eve performance of the nutcracker

once again, you find yourself watching from a distance as the prince captivates the crowd

taking the time to greet each of the young performers dressed as snowflakes and dewdrops with an enthusiastic high five

the lights dim as the performance starts and you use it as your chance to take a break from the noise

it doesn’t take long for you to notice a familiar young man in a hoodie walking slowly behind you down the empty corridor

“i’m supposed to be the one following you, you know”

“sorry i didn’t mean to- well i did but i-” felix stutters, frozen in place as you turn towards him

“i’m kidding. can i help you?” you smile with your head tilted and your hand on your hip

he scratches his neck, scrambling to remember the reason why he’d been looking for you in the first place

“um- oh! i uh- i didn’t get to thank you last time”

“for what?”

“helping me escape the parade”

“oh”, you smile and felix can swear he feels his heart start to tremble, “it’s no big deal”

“no really, you saved me, thank you” he bows deeply, only realising how overly courtly he’s being when he catches you stifling a laugh

“sorry” he blushes, “habit.”

without missing a beat, he threads his fingers back through soft tresses of blonde hair and you watch them fall perfectly over his handsome features

he’s even more enchanting up close

a few seconds pass as you both ponder the absurdity of a friendship between a prince and a journalist

but felix breaks the silence with the exact suggestion that you’ve been waiting for

“i’ve seen this performance of the nutcracker about twenty times before so i wasn’t really thinking of sticking around. did you want to…?”

“absolutely” you nod firmly and his eyes light up like stars

you tug the press lanyard from your neck as he holds open the exit door for you

“after you” he grins

“thank you, your highness-”

“felix.”

“thank you, felix”

as you get to know felix on a spontaneous trip to the outskirts of the city, it seems like everything you thought about him was wrong

the warmth and sweetness of his persona as the nation’s beloved ‘fairy prince’ is completely real

and despite only being the second-in-line, he still feels a strong sense of responsibility towards the country, especially to inspire and empower young people

seeing the way his face lights up in excitement when he gushes about all of the organisations that he’s taken up an ambassadorship with, you can’t help but start to admire him

he opens up to you about the struggles of growing up in the public eye and the media storms that almost tore his family apart

it’s no wonder that when felix invites you as his guest to the royal family’s christmas ball, it causes quite a stir

“no journalist has stepped foot inside the palace in the last fifty years, felix” you repeat, pacing frantically in your bedroom as he tries to calm you down over the phone

“you’re not coming as a journalist, you’re coming as my guest.”

“i can’t even dance!”

“i’ll teach you. you know i’ll look out for you, don’t you?”

“i know it’s just- are you sure about this? about me being there?”

“it has to be you.”

you can almost hear the smile in his voice, warm and reassuring

“okay… only if you’re sure”

“i’m sure. a hundred and one percent.”

the whole interior of the palace is more rustic and homely than you’d expected

and the music is lively, so are the laughs

his sisters are the most beautiful, sweetest girls you’ve ever met and your heart instantly feels warm in their presence

along with the hospitality of his parents (besides the occasional side-eye you get from the king)

in a conversation with one of his sisters, who speaks as fondly about felix as everyone else seems to, she mentions hearing about you

“my brother is an affectionate person, but i’ve never seen him gush about anyone as much as he has about you” she beams

flustered, you look over at him, only to find him looking straight back your way

leaning back against a wall with a glass in his hand, almost oblivious to the group of people that are circling him and instead fully focused on you

he hands his drink to one of his friends and proceeds to slowly walk away

but not before tilting his head and giving you a mischievous look that you immediately know the meaning of

let’s get out of here

“this is nothing like i imagined” you breathe shakily, following felix down the stairs as he leads you out of the ballroom

“what were you expecting?”

“chandeliers, statues, maybe a dragon” you laugh

“i wish” he sighs playfully as he nudges open a door to the outdoor courtyard

felix hurries a few steps ahead so that he can extend his hand to you as you step out onto the glacial footpath

but he ends up almost slipping over his own feet in the process, so you interlace arms and cling to each other for dear life

“ah-!” you stifle a squeal, instinctively tightening your grip on the sleeves of his flowy white dress shirt with every step you take

you glide around each other on the frosted concrete for a few seconds trying to regain your balance

“hey look, we’re sort of dancing” felix chuckles, twirling you under his arm with ease as you gently fall forwards and laugh against his chest

“i don’t think this counts”

“then let me teach you properly like i promised”

light snow continues to fall as you find your rhythm, guided by the soft echo of people clapping along to a lively acoustic beat inside the palace

“am i doing this right?” you ask softly as you watch your feet while carefully mirror his steps

“yeah” he whispers against your hair, warm breath tickling your ear, “you’re doing it perfectly”

the distant roaring of crowds indicates that it’s come to that part of the night where the royal family gives their christmas address to the public at the front of the palace

but felix just continues to hold you close, humming blissfully as if to drown out the noise

“i think the whole world’s waiting for you out there...”

he pulls away, just for a second, and looks at you with those doey brown eyes that seem to hold the expanse of the entire sky on the clearest winter night

“the world can wait”

m.list

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crownedbyluke · 3 years

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Long Road Ahead (Chapter 16)

Estelle Finley has been friends with Ashton Irwin and Luke Hemmings for three years. When the boys bring her along on a jam-packed road trip to Cape Cod with the rest of the band, their adventures are just beginning. Through long hours driving, exploring cities, and hidden secrets, something more is bound to happen on this journey. How will this road trip change Estelle’s friendship with the friends she’s come to love so dearly?

Word Count: 2,527

{Chapter One} {Chapter Two} {Chapter Three} {Chapter Four}{Chapter Five} {Chapter Six} {Chapter Seven} {Chapter Eight} {Chapter Nine} {Chapter Ten} {Chapter Eleven} {Chapter Twelve} {Chapter Thirteen} {Chapter Fourteen} {Chapter Fifteen}

“Dad?” I asked, utterly shocked at the mess that was unfolding before my very eyes.

“What? No acknowledging me?” the familiar voice asked.

I looked just slightly to the left of my father, the familiar face of my brother Wesley came into view. He clearly hadn’t shaved in at least a month with his scraggly half shadow of a beard. It had been at least two years since I had seen him and now, seeing him again, made me want to scream.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Ashton had his hand on the small of my back, trying his best to comfort me. It felt like everyone in the house was watching me, like I was living my life out on a television screen.

“You remember your betrothed,” my dad said, gesturing to the man standing behind Wes.

My heart stopped. A commitment that I had never agreed to and yet, here was my father bringing it back to haunt me. Aiden Harper. He had certainly gotten taller since we were in middle school. The likelihood of him being less of a giant idiot though was probably very small.

“Aiden,” I whispered, still in shock.

“Who the hell is he Estelle?” Luke asked, voice full of anger.

I met his eyes, finding the storm of hurt and rage swirling in them. It took everything in my body to not just run over to him. There were more eyes on us than I wanted for a conversation like that.

“Oh, I suspect she didn’t inform you. This is the man she is intended to marry in two years time,” my dad said.

Luke clenched his fist. I felt the anger radiating off of him from the stairs. Before anyone got into a fight, I stepped down from the stairs and stood between the two.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Well darling daughter, you seem to think that I can’t stop you from seeing this man child over there, so I’ve come to prove you wrong,” he said with a smile.

It was the same smile I had seen my entire life. One of manipulation and dishonesty.

“How?” I continued.

“You see, your friends here, well, they sometimes do great work at covering up their partying or their general misuse of their fame, but myself and my contacts are more clever than their publicist. I have a multitude of photos and videos of them misbehaving that would surely ruin any chance they had at making another album,” he said, the smile widening.

“You’re lying,” Ashton said from behind me.

“Oh son, you wish I was don’t you? Doubt you’d like that threesome video from your Vegas trip a year ago to get out,” my dad said, gritting his teeth.

I felt the whole room tense. This was serious and it was happening right in front of my face. There were stories of how my dad would manipulate people into what he wanted, but I had never seen it happen. Some of them felt more fabricated than reality would allow. Yet, it was reality and he was doing everything he could to stop me.

“What do you want?” I asked, biting back tears.

It was no longer a question of what I had to do. I’d do it to protect them. Ashton reached for me again, but I moved away. It was my battle now.

“You’ll be coming home with me right now. You can move into your new house in August and you’ll stay in your tiny little apartment until then. You will no longer speak to these children or be seen with them in the media. Oh and you’ll be seen with Aiden getting engaged next week,” he said.

My eyes went wide. Engaged? It meant giving away my entire life to a person who would most likely cheat on me the first chance he got.

“Elle, you don’t-”

“Fine. If I do this, you leave them alone?” I asked, cutting off Calum.

“Yes.”

“You will never threaten them or harm them?” I pressed.

“I promise,” my dad said.

“Fine. I’ll get my stuff,” I said, turning around and marching up the stairs.

The tears fell down my face as I reached the landing. I was defeated, hurt, and exhausted. All I cared about was protecting them from him. There were footsteps following after me as I opened the door to my room.

“Don’t do this,” Luke said, a waiver in his voice.

I looked up, seeing the tears in his own eyes that matched mine.

“If I don’t, you lose your dream,” I said, grabbing the clothes from the closet.

“We can fight this, make it through this,” he argued.

“No we can’t Luke! If he has that kind of stuff on Ashton, what do you think he has on you or Cal? I won’t let you guys be collateral damage!” I said.

“Little dove-”

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

I stopped, balling my fists into the pair of shorts in my hands. That nickname meant so much to me. Luke called me it for the first time after he heard me sing and then he kept using it whenever he was saying something nice or being sweet. It was just our thing. He wrapped his arms around me, taking the shorts out of my hands. His short breaths gave away the fact that he was crying too. We were so close to that happiness I wanted and it was all going away.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

He pulled away, pressing his lips against mine shortly before resting his forehead on mine.

“Don’t walk out the door,” he begged.

“I have to or else everything you worked so hard for gets ripped from you by that man and I won’t be able to live with myself if that happens,” I said.

My hands rested on his cheeks, gently running my finger against the stubble growing. This was it. My lips touched his one last time before I went back to grabbing my things.

“Bugs, you don’t have to do this on your own,” Ashton said from the doorway.

“Yes I do. You’ll do amazing on the next album,” I said, wiping at my tears.

“What am I gonna do without you?” he whimpered.

“I don’t know, but you’ll figure it out.”

He hugged me tightly, putting every last ounce of love into it.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, holding on so I didn’t have to let go.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

After my things were tucked into the suitcase, I gave my last round of hugs. The sound of us all walking down the stairs felt wrong. Everything was wrong. I stopped just short of the door, turning and meeting everyone’s watery eyes.

“I am so incredibly sorry for this,” I said, the weight of the apology heavy on my heart.

“Save it dear. They can watch the wedding online,” my dad said, pulling on my arm to get me moving.

“Don’t touch her!” Luke yelled.

Everyone stopped again. Things felt like they were going in slow motion.

“You might be her father, but you will never be her dad. No dad would put his children through this,” he said, voice laced with venom.

My father smiled at him, letting my arm go. Wesley took my suitcase and nudged Aiden to lead me out of the house. Luke stood there, waiting, but all my father did was smile. Aiden closed the car door after I got in, making me watch Luke stand there as we drove away. Every piece of my heart shattered as I watched him fall to his knees in tears. Timing was a bitch.

TWO MONTHS LATER

LUKE’S POV

“Luke! Come on dude!” Calum yelled from outside my room.

I had yet to leave my bed and it was already 5 PM. He came by every day to check on me and almost every day, he found me still in bed.

“Go away!” I yelled back.

Getting out of bed never felt right or even remotely okay. Since Estelle left, nothing felt right anymore. Everyday was just a different way of going through the motions, barely existing.

“You gotta get out of bed today,” Calum said, bursting through the door.

“Why? We don’t have anything to do,” I said, tucking my face into my pillows.

“Maybe, but you haven’t left the house in two months and it’s time you did,” he said, opening the curtains.

The bright sunshine of L.A. hurt my eyes. Petunia licked my face as she saw the sun. The look Calum gave me felt like one from my mom when I was younger.

“If I get up, will you leave me alone for the rest of the week?” I asked, slowly sitting up.

“Sure,” he said.

I knew he was lying from the smile on his face. My feet dragged as I went to the bathroom. Another routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and brushing my hair gone. When I came back out, Calum was holding up new clothes.

“Why?”

“We are going out so put on something that isn’t sweatpants,” he said.

I groaned, taking the jeans and button up from him.

“You realize I’m not bringing anyone home right?”

“Yes Luke. Just shut up and get dressed.”

Legs went through the jeans and arms went through the shirt. It was a facade as to the pain that I felt every single day I woke up and remembered I couldn’t be with my person. Calum messed with my hair and patted my back, ushering me out of the house.

“Be a good girl piggy!” I yelled before Calum closed the door.

My phone dinged.

Mentioned: @Luke5SOS when is there gonna be new music?

The muscles in my face relaxed. No tweets from her...again.

ESTELLE’S POV

The setting sun was blinding through the windows of the cafe. Everyone was going about their evenings, enjoying their coffees or teas. A familiar face tucked underneath a hoodie and a baseball hat walked in, the sun behind him making him glow like an angel.

“One black coffee please,” he said softly.

Stress from the week of teaching melted away as I listened to him. My iced vanilla latte swirled as I stirred it carefully. The chair squeaked against the tile as he sat down. I met the hazel eyes staring at me.

“Hey bugs,” he whispered, taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi there stranger,” I said, a smile slowly coming out.

“How’s life?” he asked.

“Shitty. I miss you guys,” I said.

Our hands touched, the slightest bit of relief washed over me. It felt nice to be able to see him again. The weeks we weren’t able to do this seemed to drag on longer than most. It wasn’t easy to forget about the friends I was no longer allowed to see. The moments I had made me feel more guilty than anything else. He turned his palm over, gently squeezing my hand.

“We miss you too, bugs,” he said.

I wanted so badly to ask about Luke, but knew it would hurt more than I was prepared for. Ashton squeezed again.

“He’s doing his best,” he said.

Tears welled up in my eyes. If Luke was okay then surely, I should be too.

“How are the kids?” he continued, pulling away.

“Good. They’re still excited about school and spritely,” I said with a shrug.

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Holding up. I have to be seen with Aiden once a week so I keep my distance as long as possible until our scheduled outings. He goes around sleeping with women in the off time and pretends to be the perfect fiancé in the meantime. Guess that’s life now.”

“I wish it wasn’t that way,” he said, slightly angry.

“Ash, you know I don’t have that much of a choice,” I argued.

“I know, but I hate it. I hate that you can’t come over or see us or come to shows. I hate that we have to tell everyone that we aren’t friends anymore. You’re my best friend and I have to hide you.”

“I should go,” I whispered, suddenly no longer feeling up for talking.

“Bugs, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I should go. I’ve got grading and lesson plans,” I said, cutting him off.

Without looking, I walked out of the cafe. The pain took over once I closed my car door as it always did after seeing Ashton. The relics of the past hurt more and more and when I attempted to go back to normal or confront them, I ended up crying in my car. The amount of times I had driven past Luke’s place just to see if a light was on was ridiculous at this point. My phone screen lit up with a text, my background of me and Luke bringing on more tears.

Aida: Miss you. Drinks on Friday?

I ignored it, opting for driving home instead. The drive went by like it always did. My house was empty and lonely. Another thing that was meant to be something else. The exhaustion of the day wore on me as I collapsed into the couch cushions, sleep slowly taking over.

The pounding on my front door woke me from the nap I was taking. I groggily got up from the couch and made my way to it, peeking through the window.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I asked, finding a very drunk Luke and Calum.

“Estelle!” Luke cheered, a giant smile on his face.

“Again, what are you doing here?” I repeated.

“I might have given your address to the Uber driver on accident,” Calum admitted.

“Get in here,” I groaned.

They shuffled inside behind me. I checked the door to see if any of the press had followed them. Calum fell onto the couch, giggling as he did so. Luke kept staring at me.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he mumbled.

“Shush,” I said, helping him into the guest bedroom.

He giggled as I tucked him in. I put a glass of water on the side table for him in case he woke up. As I went to turn off the light, he grabbed my hand.

“I missed you little dove,” he whispered.

His eyes were sincere and it broke every piece of my heart. Luke fell asleep shortly after speaking, his face becoming relaxed and serene. It reminded me of the first time he ever stayed the night at my place. He had slept so soundly that night that he was asleep until one in the afternoon. My heart ached as I looked at him.

“He still loves you Elle,” Calum said from the doorway.

I walked towards the door, shutting off the light as I exited and closing the door behind me.

“I love him too. Now please go rest in the upstairs guest room,” I said with a sigh.

Calum stumbled his way up the stairs before closing the door. My head fell into my hands, frustration building. The morning couldn’t come fast enough.

A.N: It’s been ages and I feel horrible for leaving this on such a cliffhanger for so long, but I want to finish this story. It’s almost done. It’s mainly all written and it’s time Estelle and Luke get their story told. So here we go.

tag loves: @tommossoccer @bbycal @cakesunflower

#d writes #my writing #5sos #5sos fic #5sos fan fic #5sos au #5sos fluff #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings angst #ashton irwin #michael clifford #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fluff #5 seconds of summer angst

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 14

Catch up on Chapter 13 here

Van is done shaving, and comes into the living room dressed and ready for his ride to arrive. He ignores you as he peeks out of the front window blinds, before fussing with his sleeves, rolling them up to his forearms. You realize that his entire shirt is one button off, and he was about to head out to the bar like that.

“Van,” You sigh, standing up. He doesn’t respond, only looks at you like he’s ready for a fight.

“C’mere,” You urge him softly, but you walk to him instead. You swallow down the lump in your throat as you start to unbutton his shirt, tears threatening to form behind your eyes. “You messed up a button.”

He realizes what you mean as you correct it, watching your fingers rebutton him.

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, desperate not to leave the night on a bad note. “I was a bitch.”

Van’s heading out for the night.

Word count: ~8.2k

A/N: content warning for some (pre-discussed) sex where one person is high but the other is sober

Chapter Fourteen August 2019

Van flew in on a Tuesday and is gone by Thursday, back to the U.K. to headline another festival. He promises to be back soon; August is full of sporadic free time between the festivals and radio events, a chance for the boys to recharge in preparation for the second leg of the United States tour that would be commencing in the fall and carry them until the Christmas season.

On that following Wednesday you’re curled up on your couch, drinking your coffee and scrolling through social media when your screen goes blank. There’s a moment of confusion before it lights up with Van’s call.

“Hey,” You answer hesitantly, expecting this to be some sort of mistake. He never calls this early.

“Hey!” Van sounds cheery and awake, the exact opposite of you at the moment. “You’re up! I timed it right!”

“You what?” You laugh, pulling away to look at the time. He’s called you at 6:15 on the dot. “You planned this?”

“Yeah! I wanted to catch you before you went to work!”

His enthusiasm is contagious, brightening up your mood slightly. You were currently wrestling with the dread in your stomach reminding you of all that would need to be done once you get to the office today. Even your usual avoidance tactic of mindlessly scrolling through social media wasn’t working that well.

“Good job,” You congratulate him before taking a sip of coffee. “How’s it going with your parents?”

Although Van could have flown back to the States immediately after the festival performances on Saturday and Sunday, he’d decided to spend a few nights at his parent’s place during the week, before coming back to California on Friday.

“Good,” Van hums, and you hear rustling in the background as he moves around. “They’re out at the shops right now to get stuff for tea.”

“Bet they love having you all to themselves.”

“Oh, they fucking do.” Van’s tone implies he doesn’t quite feel the same. “They’re cornering me every chance they get to give me a talking to.”

You think of the way Van described his parent’s adoration for him, and try to imagine what bone they could possibly have to pick with him. “A talking to? Why?”

“Because I don’t have any little ones!” His voice is high. “They’re asking me about getting married and shit! The farthest I’m looking into the future is January!”

Van had already started to express his excitement for the new year to you, when the band had a couple months of a clear schedule to get into the studio for the fourth album. Knowing his one-track mind when it comes to music, you actually feel sympathy for his parents trying to discuss anything else with him. It was a lost cause.

“Aw,” You coo, “They just want a little Van to hang out with when you’re on tour! Don’t be mean.”

“M’not tryin’ to be,” He sighs. “But I’m not worried about that stuff. I’m trying to get us selling out stadiums.”

A typical Van response. “Yeah,” You hum, feeling pity for him as well. As different as your lives were, the difficulties of being surrounded by family after being away for most of the year were one thing you shared. You know how the incessant questions and demand for every second of your free time gets to your head.

“Unless you’ve got a little one for me?” Van jokes before lowering his voice. “After last week?”

A startled laugh bursts down the line from you. “No, no,” You assure him quickly, before pausing. “Well, my period hasn’t come yet, so we’ll see.” You’re teasing, of course. It wasn’t due for a couple of days, and you were so religious about your birth control you had no doubts it’d arrive.

“Fingers crossed.”

“Van!”

“That it comes!” Van laughs. “Christ!”

You’re laughing with him, the heavy feelings of dread having been chased away. But if you didn’t get off the couch soon you’d be running late. “I gotta go get ready for work,” You tell him, still grinning.

“Yeah, alright. I just really needed to speak to someone sane,” Van sighs. “Have a good day.”

“I will,” You lie, finishing off the rest of the coffee in your mug with two gulps. “You can text me anytime you need some extra sanity.”

“Keep me in your prayers,” He says dryly. “See you Friday.”

Your period arrives that night, light and pleasantly early. Even without any doubt, Van’s joke had put a niggling sense of worry in the back of your mind, and you were relieved to put it to rest.

Thursday is business as usual, but on Friday your excitement about seeing Van is dampened significantly when you realize you’ve bled through your tampon overnight, rushing to throw your soiled underwear and sheets in the washer before work. Things only get worse from there; the entire day at your desk you’re seized by merciless cramps, accompanied by the constant need for trips to the bathroom. You’d wanted to surprise Van by picking him up at the airport that evening, but instead you let him Uber over, hoping he’s not too disappointed.

As soon as you hear the knock at your door you launch yourself off of the couch, hurrying to answer it.

There’s been a post-airplane Van McCann delivered to your porch, complete with all of his luggage. His face lights up as soon as the door swings open.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” You reply as you help him roll his two suitcases into the living room. His backpack has slipped off of the one shoulder it was resting on, and you grab the handle of it, untangling it from his arm. There’s some commotion as Van shrugs his leather jacket off, hanging it neatly on the hooks on the wall next to the door, and shimmies out of his boots, but after that small delay he goes for his usual hug, you two clinging to each other.

“Sorry I didn’t pick you up,” You say into the shoulder of his t-shirt.

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Van brushes you off as he pulls away. “I wouldn’t wanna deal with the airport after working all day either. I’m here now, right?”

You smile at his optimism. As you grab the television remote, pausing your show and shutting down the TV, Van rolls his two suitcases into the empty guest bedroom before taking his backpack into your room.

“Are you washing the sheets?” He calls from the other room, and you realize that you’d been so caught up in Netflix you’d forgotten to make the bed before Van arrived.

“Yeah!” You call as you head to the small laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. “They’re done now, though!”

You hear the soft footsteps of Van in his socks as he follows you into the laundry room, prepared to help you carry the dried bedding to your room.

When you hand Van the rumpled ball of your comforter, he takes a moment to sniff it. “Clean sheets for me? You shouldn’t have!”

You knock the dryer door closed with your foot, trailing behind Van with the sheets. “You wish,” You tease him, dropping the pile of fabric on your bare mattress. “I bled through them, actually.”

You weren’t one to coddle grown men when it comes to the reality of periods, but once the words were out of your mouth you found yourself hoping they didn’t gross Van out too much.

“Ah.” Van nods in understanding, starting to unravel the fitted sheet. “So no little ones?”

“Will you stop?” You laugh, assisting Van in the task of attempting to get the elastic wrapped around the bed. “If you keep jinxing it I’m going to make you wear a condom again.”

“Consider my lips sealed, then.”

You smile to yourself as you two finish up the bed. It’s amazing how much Van coming over feels so natural; You’ve missed the constant joking, and forgotten how easily you two coexist in the same space. You wonder if it ever gets less exciting to see him after trips; each time it feels like a dream that he’s physically here with you. So far, that sense of wonder hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s only exacerbated the longer you two are friends, not to mention the way he’s always so happy to see you.

“Does pizza sound good for dinner?” You ask him. You hoped it did, because you had been craving it terribly all day. Also, it was the only thing that sounded even remotely appetizing with the way your hormones were causing chaos in your stomach. Besides ice cream. You wonder if you still had a carton in the freezer, or if Van would be in the mood to go get some at the soft serve place down the road.

“Pizza sounds great.”

Van does the honors of putting the order in via his app, so that dinner is his treat tonight. You two spend the rest of the night curled up on the couch, plunging back into your favorite Netflix show together as you both chow down on your spectacular dinner choice. It occurs to you for the first time tonight that you share a Netflix show with Van; one that neither of you watch when you’re apart. You wonder if there’s even a small chance that he’ll ever see you as more than a friend with benefits.

You’re awake before Van on Saturday morning, and thankfully haven’t bled onto the sheets.

Your period is still excessively heavy, and you curse the universe for doing this to you the weekend Van has to be over. There’s plenty of days he isn’t around! Why must you bleed yourself to death the days he is?

It’s one of those mornings that feel like a car stalling, refusing to get moving. You have a cup of coffee, check the news on your phone, like a few instagram posts, and watch some morning talk shows before deciding to nestle back in bed. Van’s still dead to the world as you tuck yourself in, his body wiped from the jet-lag.

The second time you wake up is to a very disoriented Van fumbling around by your nightstand.

“What are you doing?” You groan, pulling your pillow over your head to try to block out the blaring afternoon sun shining through the cracks in your blinds. You knew it was futile, and you wouldn’t be able to return peacefully to sleep now.

“Charging my phone,” Van’s voice crackles as he speaks. You peek out from the shade of your pillow to see him shove your charger into his phone, setting it on your bedside table next to yours.

“What time is it?” You mumble, regretting it when Van nudges the pillow off of your face.

“Hm?”

“I said what time is it!” You whine, tugging your pillow back into place. Your cramps hadn’t been around while you were having coffee, but they’ve definitely arrived now. Maybe you could just suffocate yourself with the pillow and be done with it.

There’s the soft tap of Van checking your phone screen. “Almost one.”

“Let’s go back to sleep,” You try. Maybe if Van lays down again you could get him to cuddle you.

“I just slept for thirteen hours,” Van snorts. “Come have a cig. Do you have eggs?”

You heave yourself up dramatically, nodding as you wipe the hair out of your face.

“Do you want some eggs and toast? I can fry up some mean breakfast potatoes too if you’ve got some.”

Your stomach growls. “Yeah, I’ve got potatoes.”

You mope to the bathroom before meeting Van in the kitchen. He’s left a cigarette and his lighter on the counter for you, and you take your first puff as he shuffles around in the fridge, his own cigarette already dangling from his mouth.

“Can you reach up into that cabinet?” You ask as he starts to lay out his ingredients on the counter. You’re grateful you remembered to get a fresh carton of eggs the last time you were at the store.

Van swings the cabinet open. “Pass me the ibuprofen. No, other bottle,” You instruct him, before he passes over the correct pill bottle.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, watching you wash your ibuprofen down with a swig of his coffee.

“These cramps are fucking killing me,” You complain as you pass the bottle back, Van tucking it back on its shelf. “They’re not usually this bad.”

Van hums to show he’s listening, but you leave it at that.

You prep the potatoes while Van makes you both a plate of eggs, peeling and slicing them exactly as Van demands. He didn’t lie about his potato-frying abilities, and soon you’re both seated at the table with heaping piles of fluffy eggs and crispy potatoes, ravenous after sleeping way too late. Neither of you realize you’ve forgotten to make toast until you’re done eating.

Afterwards, you two pass the rest of your afternoon away on the couch, watching television. Van lets you nestle yourself under his arm, cramming your legs into the depths of the couch cushions so that you can press your body against his, your head resting comfortably on his chest.

When TV starts to get boring Van maneuvers to the YouTube app, determined to show you a few of the band’s performances. He’d only recently become aware how much you really didn’t know about them, and was determined to bring you up to speed. You had tried to stay clueless on purpose; you figured if you went full-on-fangirl, scouring social media for content and insider information, that you’d probably look at the boys in a different light. You liked that you hadn’t been a fan of them when you’d met Van, and that you had no social media persona to compare to the boys you hang out with in the flesh. But you figure there’s no harm in watching a few performances of the setlist you’d already seen three times, especially when Van is so proud to show them to you.

You’re watching on-screen Van belt out Twice when you realize Van’s been texting through the last three songs. Obviously, watching videos of himself is probably not the most entertaining thing in the world for him, but you couldn’t bear for his attention to be elsewhere.

“Stop texting,” You whine, rubbing your cheek against his shirt.

“Sorry,” Van mumbles, but he still doesn’t put his phone down. “Do you want to go out tonight?”

Despite feeling like hell warmed over, you perk up. “Where?”

“Out to the pub. A couple of mates are in town and want to catch me for some late birthday drinks.”

You sink back into Van’s chest, disappointed. You were hoping Van had been proposing a dinner for just the two of you, like you hadn’t had since the first time he ever took you out. You were craving something romantic like that from him. Why hadn’t you ever gone out on another date? It must be because that’s when he realized he wasn’t interested in you romantically. Sure, you two have had some romantic moments in the comfort of your own homes, but there was something about getting dressed up and going out that felt so much more official and exciting.

“Nah,” You tell him. “I feel like shit.”

“You’ll be okay if I go?”

You rest your chin on his chest, peering up at his concerned face. “Yes! I can even pick you up, if you want.”

At this, Van breaks out into a grin. “You’d do that for me? That’d be ace, actually.”

You push the hair from his face, realizing you’d just agreed to stay up tonight waiting on his call. “Of course,” You assure him, before pressing your cheek back into his shirt. “But if I’m gonna have to wait up then let me sleep on you until you’ve got to get ready.”

You hear Van set his phone down on the coffee table. “What about a li’l kip? Throw that blanket over us, will ya?”

You unravel the blanket in question, draping it over both of your bodies as you two wiggle into a comfortable position. Van is warm and soft, and the sound of his breathing creates the perfect conditions for you to doze off almost immediately.

You both wake up to the alarm Van’s set, your domestic bliss ruined by Van needing to get ready for the bar. You stay slumped on the couch, watching in amusement as he hauls one of his suitcases out of the guest bedroom, rifling through it for his toothbrush and the least wrinkled button up he’d packed. He’s such a chaotic, last-minute type of person, and there’s something about getting to enjoy the show without actually having to get yourself ready that cheers you up.

Van is blow drying his hair into his typical waves when you shift on the couch and swear you feel the familiar warmth of your tampon leaking.

You try to hold still. Van will be leaving soon, and you can worry about it then. But then you cringe as you feel the sensation again, and then you remember you’re not wearing a liner right now, and you stand up from the couch.

“Hey, can I steal the bathroom for a sec?” You ask, hesitant to disturb Van. He’s got shaving cream on his face, and he looks at you in disbelief.

“Right this second?” He asks, but his tone lets you know it’s a trick question. He’s rushing to run the razor over his jaw, and you cringe, expecting him to cut himself moving that quickly.

“I just need it really quick,” You plead, dreading the surprise that awaits when you pull down your underwear.

“Y/N,” Van huffs. He hasn’t even looked over at your reflection standing in the doorway, too focused on shaving. “I’m in the middle of having a shave and I’m gonna be late! I don’t care if you take a fucking shit in front of me! Have at it!”

“Okay, oh my God, fine!” You snap, stomping behind Van to the toilet. You tried to be polite, but if he was going to be a jerk, why even bother?

You yank down your underwear, and predictably they’re soiled with a nice-sized red inkblot where your tampon had leaked. You kick off your sweatpants in order to get your underwear off. Guess you’d be doing a load of laundry tonight while you waited on Van.

You tug your tampon out, which is horrifically, overly full. You’ve got to dispose of it in your bathroom trash, which you keep in the cupboard under the sink, which Van is currently blocking as he stands in front of the sink.

“Can you move?” You snarl, still annoyed with him for not giving you privacy. His head jerks down to look at you, and you can see the anger flash through his eyes at your words. Just as he’s opening his mouth, no doubt to chew you out, you see his eyes dart to the tampon precariously dangling between your fingertips, stained and dripping onto the toilet seat.

He shuts his mouth and steps back, allowing you to open the cupboard with one hand and dispose of the tampon in the other. You scowl as you wipe yourself and insert a new tampon before snatching your underwear and sweats, marching out of the bathroom pantsless.

You immediately treat your underwear with stain remover, throwing them directly into the washer. Then you storm room to room, looking for other articles of clothing to wash with it. You weren’t going to go through all this hassle over one fucking item of clothing.

But even after emptying your bedroom hamper and throwing the kitchen hand towels in for the sake of it, there’s still only enough clothes to coat the metal bottom of the barrel. You decide to go through Van’s suitcase sitting out on the living room floor. You angrily sniff each stupid button up and matching black shirt, throwing them with all of your might towards the kitchen so they’d be easier to get into the laundry room. Why was this entire suitcase full of identical clothes? Why didn’t he ever wear any fucking color except black or navy blue? At this rate he might as well just keep two of the same outfit and rotate through them!

With his dirty jeans, socks, shirts and underwear, there’s finally enough things to consider starting the washer worthwhile. You’re still upset, pouring fabric softener over Van’s clothes at the top of the pile as if you’re dousing them with gasoline, and slamming the lid shut with a loud metal echo as you get the water running. Then you head into your bedroom, get some fresh pants on, and resume your spot on the couch.

Van is so fucking annoying!!! You immediately send to Mary.

You wait for her to respond before you send her the scalding paragraph explaining the situation that you’ve already started mentally drafting. In the meantime you flick through other apps, angry at everyone living their perfect little lives on instagram, and tweeting about their perfect little significant others on twitter.

But the longer you sit there, the more your anger starts to fade. You think back to Van’s face when you bitched at him, and how he didn’t even react. He hadn’t even been that rude, now that you reflect on the situation. He was only in a rush. Soon you’re left with just a cold pit in your stomach, and the embarrassment of realizing you’d completely overreacted.

“Van,” You sigh, standing up. He doesn’t respond, only looks at you like he’s ready for a fight.

He realizes what you mean as you correct it, watching your fingers rebutton him.

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, desperate not to leave the night on a bad note. “I was a bitch.”

Van snorts at your words, tugging you in. “I should’ve just stepped out for a sec.”

“You were in a rush,” You excuse him tearfully. Why are you on the verge of crying? You realize you sound pathetic, but there’s nothing you can do about it. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I feel really bad.”

Van gives you a soft smile, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “You’re forgiven.”

“I hope I am. I’ve got all your dirty clothes from your suitcase in the washer.”

“Oh, you’re definitely forgiven now,” Van grins. There’s the shine of headlights against the blinds, and Van peeks out again. “Okay, gotta go. I’ll call ya!”

And with that he’s bouncing out of the front door, and the countdown starts until you’ve got to go retrieve him from whatever state he drinks himself into.

You can’t doze off. You’ve just gotta stay busy. That’s your mantra as the hours pass. You finish up the load of laundry, you clean the bathroom that Van’s ripped through like a tornado, and then you get engrossed in the book you’re reading. It’s tempting to think that you’ll wake up to your ringtone if you turn your phone up, but you know better. Once you’re out for the night you sleep like a rock.

At one A.M. your contacts are dried out for the day, and you exchange them for your glasses. At two you have to force yourself to sit upright on the couch, because sprawling out is making your body feel too warm and heavy. And at three you decide to step out onto the porch and have a cigarette for some fresh air.

Your phone is wedged in the crack of the couch, and as soon as you’re in from your cigarette you check your notifications. In the few minutes you were away from your phone there’s now one new notification, a missed call from Van. Before you can return the call, your phone is ringing again.

“You ready?” You greet him. You feel more awake, a fresh bolt of excitement shooting through you at the fact you’re going to see him again, and get to sleep next to him tonight.

“I am,” Van confirms. “I thought you fell asleep.”

There’s a slur around the edges of his words, and you’re excited to get to converse with drunk Van tonight, even though he’s not so different from sober Van.

“Nope! Just having a cigarette. Where am I going?”

There’s some commotion on the end of the line as you listen to Van ask another person where he’s at, but then he’s able to give you someone’s address. Apparently someone had decided to keep the night going at one of their houses rather than head to another bar.

There’s never a time that L.A. is fully asleep, but if you had to pick a good time to be on the road it would be now, at three in the morning. The traffic is minimal, and although you struggle to find Van’s friend’s place amidst the subdivision of identical homes, eventually Van steps outside and you see his lanky silhouette stumbling down the driveway a few houses down the street. You pull forward and he climbs into the front passenger seat.

“Have fun?” You ask, as Van buckles himself in.

“Yeah,” Van nods. His voice sounds a bit dreamy, like his head’s in the clouds. “It was nice catching up with them.”

The ‘them’ in question were a few other indie artists signed to the same label as Catfish. Van mumbles for a bit about their conversations and a new single they had played him that was supposed to impact radio in the next week or so. You’re not listening too intently, humming along in response as you get back on the main roads.

You suddenly spot the bright golden arches of a McDonald’s sign, and your stomach growls. You know if you don’t have a late night snack now, your stomach would never let you sleep.

“Hungry?” You ask as you start to turn into the drive thru. Whether or not Van wanted something, you were definitely getting some fries. And maybe a McChicken, come to think of it.

“No, I’m fine,” Van says, tapping away at his phone. He was texting someone, his fingers composing a message at rapid speed before you watch the bubble slide up as he sends it. Who the hell was he texting this late?

“Who are you texting?” You ask as soon as you’re done placing your order at the window. You keep your voice light, hoping to seem conversational rather than nosy.

“Um, Bond.” Van tucks his phone back into his pocket.

“Oh, was he out with you guys?”

“No. I just wanted to send him a quick note about a riff before I forgot.”

You roll your eyes to yourself, even if you feel a swell of affection for him. Van McCann, classic workaholic even when he’s drunk.

“Can we turn the air up?” Van sighs suddenly, shifting around in his seat. “It’s sweltering.”

There’s a breeze flowing through your open window that’s giving your arms goosebumps, but you suppose it probably feels humid for Van since his window is closed. “Yeah, turn it up.”

You don’t expect him to crank the knob to the highest setting, sending ice cold air blasting through the vents.

You leave the air conditioning alone as you pull forward to get your bag of food, but as soon as your window is closed the cabin of the car is freezing. You click the knob back a few settings, so a snowstorm is no longer roaring at you.

“What’d you do that for?” Van huffs, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m dying!”

“I’m dying!” You protest, “You’re trying to freeze me out!”

“Freeze you out?” Van argues, “You’ve basically got it on heat!”

You look over at him in utter confusion. The temperature setting was set to coldest and the vents were blowing at a higher setting than you ever bothered to use. In the glow of the red light you were currently stopped at, you could see that Van was very visibly sweating.

As you continue the route back to your house, Van goes so far as to undo all his buttons, tugging his shirt off of his shoulders so that he was sitting there in only his black t-shirt. So dramatic.

“Can I have some chips?” Van asks, but without further ado he’s pulled a few fries from the brown bag with his fingertips, chowing down. You sigh, but let him get away with it.

When he goes to take another handful, you reach over without looking, snatching the bag from his lap. “You said you didn’t want anything!”

“I don’t! They just smell good!”

The road is empty, so you glance over at Van in frustration. He’s staring at you in annoyance, wide eyed like he doesn’t see a problem with him helping himself to your food. Maybe you wouldn’t notice on someone with darker colored eyes, but immediately you’re startled to see there’s almost no blue to his irises.

It all clicks together in your head suddenly. “Are you high?”

Van’s jaw hangs open slightly, but he doesn’t dispute it. The overheating, the dilated pupils, being an absolute spaz texting Bondy about guitar solos in the middle of the night. All of the signs are there.

“You took ecstasy, didn’t you?” You grin in delight at having figured it out, poking at his chest. His body is radiating heat. “You did! Admit it!”

“I didn’t lie!” Van crosses his arms, slumping back in his seat as he offers you a lopsided grin. “I never said I didn’t!”

You pull onto your street, Van trailing behind you as you head into the house with your bag of food, not trusting him with it. “Well, you can stay up all night, but I’m going to bed.”

“M’not gonna be up all night,” Van tells you, but he’s vibrating with energy as he sits down on the couch next to you.

You tug your McChicken out of the bag, unwrapping it immediately so you can take the first bite. You only shrug. Although you had occasionally been around others who were on molly, Van was the only one of you two with first-person experience.

“Hey,” Van says suddenly. “You’re wearing your glasses.”

“I am.” He’s seen you in them on rare occasions, but tonight he’s looking at you intently like he’s seeing them for the first time.

“You look hot,” He says finally.

You almost choke on the fry you’re swallowing. “Yeah right. Shut up.”

“You do! Like a sexy secretary.”

You roll your eyes, not justifying him with a response. There was a distinct difference between a secretary in a revealing button up and a short skirt, and you sitting there on your couch in one of Van’s crewnecks you’d stolen on a night you’d stayed over and baggy, shapeless sweatpants. But if Van was high enough to confuse the two, more power to him.

“I’m going to bed,” You announce after you’d finished off your McChicken. There’s a handful of fries left in the red cardboard packaging, and you shake them at Van in offering. He takes them gratefully.

“Not without me,” He says with his mouth full, inhaling your leftover fries and standing up from the couch with you. You gather up all of your trash, piling it in the bag before heading to the kitchen to throw it out.

Van follows you into the bedroom, and you startle when his fingers sneak under the hem of your crewneck.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, elbowing him as he brings his hands to your stomach, pulling you backwards into his chest. “Let me get ready for bed!”

The more you struggle against him the tighter he holds you, his fingers trailing up your ribs and to your chest. You continue to attempt to fight him off, giggling the entire time.

“Don’t you try to sneak second base,” You tease, his hands coming back out of your sweatshirt, although he still wraps his arms around your middle, his nose coming into your hair.

“You’re soft,” He whines, running his hands up and down your front over your clothes. “And you smell good.”

“If you wanna cuddle me, get in bed.” You finally shake yourself free of his embrace, shedding your borrowed sweatshirt and heading for the dresser to grab a sleep shirt. Van isn’t discreet with the way he’s staring at your topless figure, practically drooling as he peels away his own shirt and undoes his belt.

Climbing into bed after your long night waiting for Van feels like heaven, and you’re relieved to fold up your glasses and perch them on your bedside table, the true mark of a day ending.

Van climbs in beside you, and you click the lamp off, the room going pitch black. You flip on your side so that you’re facing Van. Your eyes adjust to the darkness, the streetlights glowing through the window and barely illuminating his face.

“Can I have that cuddle now?” He asks quietly, and you laugh, wiggling closer to him as a yes.

You expect him to wrap his arm around you, but instead his fingers sneak right back under your shirt, before he slides his palm against the small of your back, rubbing up and down. You close your eyes, soothed by the sweep of his hand, before you feel his hair tickling your nose and his lips on your neck.

“Van,” You huff in surprise. “That’s not cuddling!”

“Sure it is.” You can hear the laughter in Van’s voice as he resumes kissing up and down the line of your neck. It feels pretty fucking good, so you close your eyes and relax against your pillow.

“It’s not,” You still reply, not willing to let him have the last word. “But you’re lucky you’re good with your mouth.”

Van moans against your skin. “I can’t get enough of you,” He confesses as he stops kissing your neck in favor of joining your lips. As he licks into your mouth he starts to maneuver you onto your back, his hand now rubbing your side as he starts to hover over you. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

His words send a shiver up your spine, even though you’re not exactly sure what he’s referring to. The kissing? Your skin? He’s kissing you with more urgency now, and your hand comes up to his cheek. His skin is smooth and soft from his shave, and you swipe your thumb back and forth.

“Oh shit, that feels so good,” Van groans, and you feel it right in the depths of your belly.

“This?” You ask, swiping your thumb again.

“Yeah,” Van pants, kissing you harder. “Just touch me. Touch me everywhere, fuck.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement to get your hands on him. Your hands roam all over, scratching his scalp, the back of his neck, his shoulders. You feel him break out in goosebumps as you trace your fingertips against the bumps of his spine.

“Don’t stop,” Van pleads when you pause, lost in the kissing for a moment. You think back to that conversation you’d had on the patio about how much he liked taking ecstasy. You hadn’t realized he enjoyed it this much.

“Are you gonna come?” You can’t help but ask, because you realize now he wasn’t kidding about simple touches putting him on the verge. He was still in his briefs, but he was clearly rock hard.

“Fuck if I know. It feels like I already have,” Van nuzzles against your chest, practically purring when you put your hands in his hair again. “Oh, fuck, just like that.”

You laugh in surprise at his words. “Is it really that good?”

Van swears again as you give the back of his neck and gentle squeeze, and you take that as a yes.

“Let me fuck you,” Van pleads, sitting up so he can look directly into your eyes. He’s clearly out of his mind with desire. “Please.”

“You won’t last,” You joke, stroking your thumb over one of his nipples. He shudders helplessly.

“Don’t I know it,” He laughs at himself. “But you’re so fit. Please.”

“I dunno.” Your hesitation looks like it’s causing Van an excruciating amount of pain. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“We’ve talked about it when I had my head on right,” Van begs, watching as you trail one single finger up and down his stomach and chest. “Plus, you’re my best friend.”

He must be extraordinarily high if he’s slipped on his favorite British slang of best mate. You can tell that waiting for your word is intensely tortuous for him.

“Uh, no to fucking,” Comes your ultimate decision, realizing that’d be logistically hard to navigate with your period and a hazy Van. “But lay down. And get your underwear off.”

Van scrambles to do as you say, all of his limbs vibrating with need. When you climb down between his legs, nudging his thighs open, you feel them try to close instinctively.

“Don’t smother me,” You warn him, but your voice is lacking any actual threat. Van pants as you press his knees open, and after a moment’s consideration you sneak your fingers underneath them. It’s a sensitive spot for him on a regular day, but he jumps out of his skin at your gentle touch tonight. God, ecstasy-high Van was so fun to explore. Even in the extremely low light of the room you can see how badly his dick is craving to be touched, flushed and curved against his lower belly and shiny with precome.

You knew that foreplay wasn’t an option here, so with one calculated motion you’ve pulled Van’s foreskin back with a flick of your wrist, wrapping your mouth around his dick and swiping your tongue over the ridge of his head as he cries out.

He’s shuddering against the sheets like any moment might be the last, and you know that there’s no way he can give you an accurate warning in his current state. You lap up each spurt of precome, the hand not holding his dick in place reaching down to touch his balls. You decide not to give them their usual attention this time, instead sneaking your fingertips underneath them, and up towards the base. Maybe Van’s never been touched here, or maybe he’s just enjoying it to the extreme, but his dick twitches inside of your mouth, his toes curling.

When you feel you’ve given him a decent amount of head, surprised he’s held off like he has, you pull back, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the head of his dick. You wipe your mouth dry with the back of your hand before wrapping a palm around Van, jerking him off quickly. You retract your fingertips from behind Van’s balls, instead running your nails up and down his inner thigh.

With a gasp he starts to come, and you continue to jerk him off as he comes onto his stomach in heavy spatters, his whole body contracting through his orgasm. You’re careful not to release him prematurely, jerking him off until he’s cringing with sensitivity, writhing away from your touch.

You lean your torso off of the bed, snatching Van’s shirt from the floor. You wipe him off with careful strokes, soiling his shirt with every last drop. You offer him a clean corner of the fabric so that he can wipe the sweat off of his face.

“Are you good?” You ask once he’s tossed the shirt back onto the floor, and he furrows his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Good? I don’t think I’ve ever felt this fucking good in my entire life,” He insists.

You grin at the compliment, poking at his hip. “I mean, are you overheating? Do you need some water or, like, ice or something?”

“I think I’m alright. I’ll grab some water after I piss.”

While Van heads to the bathroom you stumble around in your dark kitchen, preparing him a glass of water. You hear him groan from the bathroom, the door hanging open.

“Even pissing feels incredible,” He tells you when he comes out. You pass him the ice water as you take your turn, laughing as you do.

Your body feels like a block of lead as you climb back under the covers this time, actually ready to sleep. The only thing preventing that from happening was Van sitting upright smoking a cigarette, lamplight beaming into your eyes.

“Have a fag,” He tells you. “Get ready for round two.”

“Round two?” You sputter, shaking your head. “You fucking wish!”

“I meant for you!” Van laughs. He kindly offers his cigarette out to you, and you prop yourself up on one elbow to steal a quick drag. “Gotta make sure you get off, don’t I?”

“What a gentleman,” You joke, nestling back under the sheets. “But I’m going to sleep.”

“No fair. Even for head?”

“I’m on my period,” You remind him, rolling over so the lightbulb wasn’t shining in your eyes. “I already told you you’d be up all night alone.”

Van sighs. You doze off immediately, only to be woken up an indeterminable amount of time later to Van clicking the light off, and leaving the bedroom after grabbing your guitar.

You’re up around ten the next morning, feeling amazingly refreshed after sleeping like the dead. Van, on the other hand, is sitting on the couch, puffing through a cigarette, looking considerably less refreshed.

“Morning!” You quip cheerfully just to piss him off. It works. He offers you a death glare. “Write any good songs?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we’ll see what the lads think.” He trails after you into the kitchen, where there’s a pot of coffee already brewed and partially gone.

You marvel at the sort of friendship the band has. You didn’t think anybody could pay you enough to write songs on drugs and then present them to your coworkers. But then again, maybe it was worse when they were sober songs that Van had really poured his heart into.

“Having fun on your comedown?”

“I’m crawling out of my fucking skin. Not to mention the hangover.”

“Can’t sleep it off?”

“Not yet,” Van sighs. He’s got deep, dark circles under his eyes, and his cigarette is trembling where he’s holding it between his fingers so he can take a sip of black coffee from the mug he’d just refilled. “But once my head shuts up, I will.”

You understand the terror of intense anxiety and panic attacks, and that’s without any drugs. Watching Van’s hyperactivity transmute to panic is hard to watch. You’ve never seen happy-go-lucky Van less like himself. You feel bad now for teasing him.

“Do you wanna try? I can lay back down with you,” You offer out of pity. He shakes his head.

You finish up your coffee before getting the water running for a shower. Mary was making a trip to Costco today, and since you didn’t have a membership you were planning to go with her this afternoon.

“Can I get in with you?” Van calls from the living room.

“Yeah!” You yell so that he can hear you, your voice echoing against the tile as you start to strip.

When Van comes in his eyes wander up and down over your body. “Is it still your time of the month?” He asks, smiling weakly.

“Unfortunately,” You sigh, tugging your tampon out right in front of him. Clearly as of yesterday you two were at this level of familiarity. You realize he’s still smiling. “Why?”

“Gotta return the favor, remember?” He reminds you as his own clothes start to litter the bathroom floor.

You haven’t been in the mood lately, too frustrated with the bloating and the cramps and the bleeding to feel even slightly attractive, but something about Van always pushes those worries aside.

“Hm, I guess you do,” You singsong as you step behind your shower curtain into the warm spray of water. “But you better hurry, I gotta go to Costco with Mary.”

Van is incredibly efficient, bending you over so that he can fuck you while also sneaking a hand around to keep warm, wet circles over your clit. As much as you usually despise doggy style there’s something perfect about it today, the water pounding down on the small of your back while you brace yourself against the tile with your forearms, struggling not to slip as Van thrusts into you. You’re deliciously sensitive because of your period, and after only a few minutes of Van’s concentrated attention with his fingertips you’re groaning through your orgasm, your knees trembling as Van’s fingers continue to move against you.

Van pulls out, jerking himself off until you feel him come on the swell of your ass. Then his waterlogged palm flushes water over your skin, carefully cleaning himself off of you.

“That was very pornstar of you,” You tease breathlessly when you’ve stood up straight, soaking the rest of your scalp so you can finally wash your hair.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Van admits sheepishly. “Thought now would be the perfect time.”

You wonder if he means he’s always wanted to do that to you, or if he’s never done it in general. But then you remember that you’re the only one that’s ever fucked him while he was on ecstasy, and decide to be happy with that win regardless.

After sex and a shower Van is looking a little more normal. His cheeks are flushed pink from the heat, a welcome change from the pallor of his complexion when you’d greeted him this morning. He’s looking a little more content, a little less like a walking panic attack, and after he changes into some clothes he hasn’t sweat through you convince him to try getting into bed.

He’s a grown man, and doesn’t need you to oversee his nap, but that doesn’t stop you from following him into your room, and getting into bed with him. It would be perfect if you could calm him down enough to sleep in the next half hour, so that you could get ready and go shopping without having to worry.

You sit up against your headboard and nudge his head into your lap, playing with his damp hair while he tries to settle in.

“Are you mad?” He asks, his voice muffled against your thigh.

“Mad about what?” You giggle softly, rolling your eyes.

“Have I ruined your Sunday?”

“No!” You scoff. “If anything, you just made it a lot better.”

Van grins against you at that. “You’re my best mate.”

“I know.” You sigh, half from fondness and half from the desire to be more. “You’re mine, too.”

“Don’t forget about me when I’m touring next month.”

“I could never,” You laugh, ruffling his hair in punishment. “I know you’ll come by when you can.”

Van relaxes against you, some of the demons in his head clearly appeased at your words. You wonder what other anxieties are swirling around there, if he ever has to worry about finances or forgetting to mail something or whether or not he left damp clothes in the washer or the stove on at home. It feels like he sails through life unhindered by such tedious worries, but now you’ve seen first hand he has them like everyone else. He worries about burdening others with his hangovers, and being replaced by his best friend while he’s working.

Slept in way too late, you lie to Mary after picking up your phone from the nightstand. I’ll go with you next week!

You’re grateful last night you left your book on the nightstand instead of putting it away on the shelf, your glasses and book perfectly within reach without you having to disturb Van. This was a way better way to spend your Sunday rather than pacing through crowded aisles in a warehouse. You hold your book with one hand, still fussing with the ends of Van’s hair with the other, and enjoy your last day of the weekend.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #catb #catb fic #van mccann fanfiction #vanfic #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann fic

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necropxlis · 4 years

Text

Loving Someone ~

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mentions of depression and anxiety, Blackmailing, possible gas-lighting, slight swearing, possible mentions of sex.

Type: HaikyuuxReader high school/college SMAU

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

Status: On Going

Summary: Y/N Miya gets the chance of a life time to play volleyball in California for her Senior year in high school. Giving her the opportunity to play for a well known team in college. Along the way she meets a someone who can change her life for the better. But will the people she surrounds herself with, allow her this fleeting moment of happiness? Or will they plot her demise for the sake of her career?

Word Count: 1,886 w/out text or social media counts

Chapter 5: My First Kiss

Walking down the stairs, you saw Iwaizumi standing outside your dorm house. A smile spread across your face at the sight of him shuffling his feet around. He had a slight scowl on his face, which was almost normal for him. Sporting a black jean jacket and a white shirt, he looked better than he ever has. The washed-out jeans and black Nikes only added to the glorious look. Shaking your head and slapping your cheeks, you got out of the trance you were in and opened the door. Iwaizumi snapped his head up as you walked out. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey uh..here’s your bag.”

“Thank you! I appreciate you doing this for me.” You said grabbing the bag from him.

Iwaizumi smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s no problem. Well I should get going-“

“Wait!” You grabbed the sleeve of his jacket causing him to stop. Lowering your head you stared at your shoes. Honestly, you don’t know why you stopped him. It’s like something came over you and you couldn’t stop it. You both stood there a moment, neither making the effort to say or do anything. The air around you was still. People continued to move all around you. It was as if you were the only ones frozen in time.

“Would you stay? For a little while?” You asked not bothering to lift your head. For the fear of him seeing your glassy eyes and rosy cheeks. The truth is you were alone. Everyone was moving on with their lives, meeting with family, enjoying their time off from school. While you had nowhere to go, no one to stay with, no one to talk to. Iwaizumi had been your first friend. Sure he may be older than you, but you considered him to be a close friend nonetheless. A part of you knew this would happen when you accepted the offer. That you would probably be spending a lot of time alone. Not being able to see your brothers 24/7 has taken its toll on you. The three of you were always together. No matter what you did or how many fights you got into, you were the best of friends. The fact that they aren’t able to see you or come to a special moment in your life sucks. When you met Iwaizumi, it was like finding a piece of home. He reminded you so much of your brothers. He made you feel happy and safe.

Turning around and grabbing your hand, Iwaizumi began to pat the top of your head. Albeit a bit awkwardly, but it made you feel comforted nonetheless. Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the slight tint of red that dusted his cheeks. It could have been from his actions or the chilly weather outside.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi said leading you away from the dorm house, “There’s someplace I want to show you.”

The two of you walked in silence, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Your heart was beating out of your chest from nerves and anticipation. Not once did he let go of your hand. His grip was tight but not too rough. It made you feel warm at the small affection. Even if it didn’t mean anything romantically, it meant everything to you. Looking around, you noticed that you were no longer walking on the cement grounds. Instead, it was dirt and grass underneath your sneakers. Chirping could be heard all around you. Birds and other wildlife were tending to their own needs, while the pair of you trotted down the pathway. A steep hill stood in front of you.

Iwaizumi looked back at you and smirked, “I promise the climb will be worth it. Hold on tight to my hand.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat and nodded, allowing the boy to lead you up the hill. It’s not that you were scared of the hill, just the thought of the burning in your calves that would haunt your dreams later. Not only that but the constant reminder that he was holding your hand, made you feel like you were back in middle school. No one should be crushing this hard. It made you feel so stupid but you weren’t about to let go. Following Iwaizumi’s footsteps, you finally reached the top of the hill. The air around you began to swirl, leaves danced and twirled to its song. Splashes of purple and pink covered the sky as the sun was telling the world goodnight. A few speckles of light started breaking through the color, begging to be seen by the night sky viewers. The city ahead was lively, street lights starting to waken, people turning into their homes to escape the cold night. The grandeur of it all took your breath away. Not once did you dare to look away, for fear of missing something magnificent bound to happen.

Green orbs followed your every movement. When you grabbed a hold of his jacket, he knew something was bothering you. He often felt like you did, alone in a country with no familiar faces around. He knew how hard it was not to be able to see the people you love when you want to. All of his friends would call him foolish, but he cared for you. In you, he saw himself, back when he was a senior in high school and the world was against him. As the sun decided it was time for its slumber and the moon woke, the light in your eyes never diminished. He prayed to whoever would listen, that that light would never fade. The lights from the city never looked so beautiful as it did at this moment. With their white and yellow beams striking every feature on your face. He didn't know what came over him, but Iwaizumi grabbed a lock of your (h/c) hair placing it behind your ear. You turned to look at the male standing beside you. If you thought the view was breathtaking, the caring human in front of you was the killing blow. You have never seen his face soften this much. It was a look you hoped to see for the rest of your days.

It could have been something in the air or the intimacy in the moment, but it seemed as fate was pulling you closer. Without breaking eye contact, you turned towards him, shyly placing a hand on his chest. Iwaizumi’s free hand grazed over your waist. Deciding whether or not to commit to the action. His green orbs never left yours. You could see galaxies behind those eyes. As if you were staring into some crystal ball that allowed you to see all the possibilities in the world, but you would never trade any of those alternate universes over where you were now. Angling his head down slightly, you pushed up on your tippy-toes to meet him halfway. People say that when you kiss the person you love it feels like fireworks are exploding inside of you and around you. For you, it just felt right, as right as the waves crashing against the coast. It was a moment that you would cherish for the rest of your life. Pulling away slightly, your face regained its rosy color across your cheeks. Iwaizumi chuckled and ghosted his knuckles across your cheeks. As if reality had stepped in, you realize what you had just done. Fear struck you harder than any emotion at that moment. Stepping away from him slightly you placed your head in your hands.

“What have I done? Iwaizumi-san I’m so sorry-“

“I told you to call me Hajime, and stop, it’s my fault I got caught up in the moment I’m sorry.” He said grabbing your arm causing you to stop and look at him. The look on his face was one of guilt, he felt like he was the one to blame for you feeling the way you were.

Grabbing his hand you stepped closer to him, “Hajime, I don’t regret it, I have wanted to do that for a while now. I don’t want you to feel this way, I only stopped because I thought you had a thing for Luna. She talks about you all the time so I only thought-“

Hajime laughed. You didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he found this so amusing. Turning his back towards you, he rubs the back of his head. You looked down and started playing with your fingers. Hoping that he didn't regret kissing you. You never liked wearing your heart on your sleeve, you wished that the one time you did, it wouldn’t end up with you crying alone at 3 am. Turning back around towards you, Iwaizumi grabbed both of your hands, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I never have, nor will, have a thing for Luna. She has been obsessed with me since I dated her older sister. She hasn’t left me alone since I broke up with her either. Luna has no say or hold over my feelings Y/N.” Hajime said with a huff at the end.

Tears began to pool in your eyes. You didn't know if you were comprehending what you were hearing. Hajime had feelings for you? Did he care for you? He and Luna weren’t dating? Part of you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again. The other part of you was worried about what your brothers would think. What about that weirdo who keeps sending you messages? They threatened Kita, what would happen if they found out about your feelings for Hajime? Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he slowly leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

The moment, the emotions, the scenery, it was all too perfect. Nothing should ever be this perfect. Grabbing his hand, you lead Iwaizumi over to one of the trees surrounding the hill. You both sat and leaned against the tree, with your head on his shoulder. Not once did you let go of each other’s hands. Playing with his fingers, you realized you had forgotten about being lonely. You had forgotten about the possible threat to your life. Things felt a little more bearable with him by your side.

“Want to tell me why you were so worked up earlier?” Hajime said tilting his head sideways.

You sighed, “the twins aren’t able to visit me while I’m on vacation. Nor are they able to come to the game. I miss them so much.”

It was silent between the two of you after that. It’s like you both knew the pain of being away from home. The two of you stayed like that for a while before it got too late. When you both got back to the dorm house, Iwaizumi stopped you before you went inside. He placed another kiss on the top of your head before letting you go. When you reached the door, you turned around and waved him goodbye. He smiled and waved back, watching you enter the building completely before making his way back home. You felt like it was so cliche. Confessing your feelings to someone, their feelings being reciprocated, the walk home after, but you wouldn’t want it to happen any other way.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 6

𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴: 𝘠/𝘕 𝘔𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭. 𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦. 𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴? 𝘖𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳

𝘛𝘢𝘨 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵: @missingmystogan @elianetsantana @prettyinblack231 @intoomuchfandoms

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kieraswriting · 4 years

Text

Coffin Chapter Thirty

Masterpost

Liam paced back and forth. There had to be something. There had to!

And yet no clues.

He had to be missing something. His anger blinding him again as it always did. He took a deep breath and let it slowly. He checked all his small bits of what might be clues, and still found nothing. They’d just driven off and left no signs. No sightings, no credit cards, nothing he could follow.

But there had to be something. These weren’t practiced criminals, it was his son and his friends and some random vampires.

Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way. Thinking from a human perspective. These were vampires kidnapping them, after all. They weren’t practiced criminals, they were vampires, and he’d have to know how a vampire would do this.

Ok. That gave him a lead.

Liam drove to the closest holding center, and went down to where they were holding their strongest vampire.

It glared at him from the moment he entered the room.

“I want to know how a vampire would find another vampire.”

“If they aren’t dead already,” the vampire spat.

“This one isn’t. How would you find a specific vampire if you only knew of it, you didn’t have a personal link to it?”

The vampire let out a tired laugh. “You hunters are all the same. You’re going to torture me no matter what I say. I’m not going to tell you how to get someone else into my position.”

Liam pulled a silver rod from his pocket, holding it just above the vampire’s neck. The vampire flinched, but then bared its teeth at him. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Liam pressed the rod down, dragging it across the vampire’s skin.

By the time he had the information he wanted, he was almost impressed that the vampire had lasted so long.

“Feed it,” he told the guard on the way out. “Don’t want it dying for nothing.”

He didn’t notice how very white the guard’s face was, or the many eyes fixed on his back with terrified looks.

•^*^••

Now that they’d finally stopped, Logan was able to set up the online part of Virgil’s idea, but the harder problem would be getting him a new phone that couldn’t be traced.

“I could always run it to him,” Remy offered.

“There’s a great number of ways that that could go very wrong, and I’m sure I don’t have to start listing them for you to know that.” Logan said.

“Remy’s very good at being careful though,” Emile said.

“It’s hours away!” Logan protested.

“You think I was driving because it’s faster? I could carry Emile and still beat you in that car.”

“Please don’t, though,” Emile said quickly. “Logan, Remy’s good at doing what he wants to. You can trust him to do it and be safe.”

“I’ll even be back before sunrise,” Remy boasted.

“We don’t even have a phone to give him yet,” Logan said, but he knew that Remy could just take a phone from anyone and it’d take very little time for him to wipe it.

“I’ll handle that,” Remy said, as Logan had expected he might.

Logan still didn’t like it, but it might well work. “Ok.”

Remy grinned. “You two just have a nice night of sleep, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

•^*^••

Dee couldn’t help looking longingly at some of the houses they passed. While he knew how to focus on a mission, especially one as important as the one they were doing, all he’d really wanted was to settle down somewhere and live calmly.

If Thomas hadn’t already been a hunter when they met, and if it wouldn’t have sparked suspicion, he’d have suggested that Thomas get another job, any other job. Just something to be at home.

Dee had lived enough lifetimes. Had enough adventure. Just for a few years, he’d love to stay in one place, nothing more to worry about than what he was going to make for dinner, and whether he wanted to try a new face mask or just go to bed early.

It wasn’t possible. Not now. He was lucky enough to have Thomas. If only he could just keep him safe until this was all over.

And then they’d passed through the little town.

“It’s about half an hour till the campsite,” Thomas said. “Do you think you could find us something for dinner?”

“Like a bobcat!” Remus said excitedly from the backseat.

Dee just grimaced.

“Oh come on, I’d eat a bobcat!”

“I’d rather not,” Thomas said.

Remus stuck his tongue out. “I don’t know why I came with you guys. You’re soooo boring!”

“No one said you had to stay,” Dee said under his breath.

Remus pouted. “What, you don’t like me anymore?”

Dee rolled his eyes. He had plenty of reasons not to like Remus, but he knew that his problem at the moment was just being grumpy and tired. And that it wouldn’t get better for a while. It wasn’t sleep he needed, unless that sleep lasted at least a fortnight.

His attention was caught then by the phone dinging. It was a text from Remy.

Virgey had a good idea, and I’m bringing it to you. Where are you exactly?

Dee texted him the location of the campsite.

Remus’s suggestions got more and more disgusting the longer they tried to ignore him, and Dee was glad when they arrived, and Remus could run off and spend some of that energy doing something else.

Remy arrived shortly after, dropped off a phone, and refused to stay.

Dee went through the motions of setting up camp, just feeling more and more tired. It was only after he was sure that Thomas was asleep that he let his wish out, letting it seep into the open air.

“I just want to go home.”

•^*^••

It was the middle of the night when the loud knock startled them all awake.

Patton grabbed his glasses, and looked over at Virgil, who was curled into a terrified ball at the foot of his bed, eyes still blurry from sleep.

He heard footsteps as Roman went to the door.

It was a very tense few moments before they heard Roman call. “It’s just Remy, it’s alright.”

Patton let out a long breath. He got up, and Virgil followed him out of the room, gripping a fistful of the back of his shirt.

“Hey!” Remy said, far too boisterous for the time of night. “How’s the babiest vampire doing?”

Virgil glared at him.

“You really should’ve warned us first,” Roman said, and then yawned loudly.

“Well, I did, but you know who has their phone on silent? You do.”

Roman frowned, but then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Anyway, I have a phone for Virgil, and in the morning I’ll have Logan text you with everything you’ll need to start up your idea. Oh, and I gave Dee one too, here’s his number.”

Virgil accepted the phone. “Thanks.”

Remy grinned. “Well, I promised I’d be back early, so I’ve got to go. Text me, babes!”

And then he was gone.

“At least it was just Remy,” Patton said, looping an arm over Virgil’s shoulders.

He felt the shudder before Virgil said, “Yeah.”

“Alright, back to bed. We can set up the phone in the morning.” Roman said, herding them back to their rooms.

It didn’t surprise Patton at all when Virgil had nightmares a few hours later, and he just crawled in his bed, being as soothing as he could be until Virgil fell back asleep.

•^*^••

Virgil had a whole first message written up, and he spent the morning logging into social media accounts under different names, and posting that first message on all of them. There was a lot of chatting with Logan, and a little with Dee, but then it was all set. He’d just have to wait and see how people reacted to it.

It wasn’t long at all before the first message came. It was anonymous, but Virgil looked at it immediately.

You’re right. I took a job helping the hunters cause I thought it would be fun. Dangerous. Helping keep people safe. It’s not.

They’re all terrified, and hurting, and they cry. I don’t know that I can stand to hear the crying anymore. I have to stay for three months because of the contract I signed, but the minute I can I’m getting out.

I’d let the vampires out too, but I’m absolutely terrified that the hunters would do the same things to me. I just want to get out.

#sanders sides #vampire au #vampires #blood #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #emile picani #remy sleep #my own work #coffin #violence #speciesism #vampire virgil #platonic moxiety

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fandom-writer642 · 4 years

Text

Stone Skipping Final Part

Summary: The Batfamily has always been so crazy that no one notices the silent sister. She’s made her way through college with no one else realizing, sometimes forgetting about her completely. How many times can she bounce back before sinking?

Warnings: Angst?

Request: Part one wasn’t.

Pairing?: Family; Batfamily x Sister! Reader a small bit of Bart Allen x Reader at the end.

———

The CCPD was calmer than normal, no crimes from any of the rouges but it could not be said by some of the other cities in the country. Work was simple, a catch up day of reports for most. (Y/n) Wayne was looking through a few cases that were thought to be linked. She had been working for the CCPD for the past two years, starting the job in her last year of college.

It had been five years since Damian and her moved to Central City. Damian worked as a veterinarian not too far, though (Y/n) said he would’ve been a good asset to the Police Department as a detective. Both left the lives they lived in Gotham behind, not wanting to go back. They may be the biological heirs to the company but they knew Tim could handle it just fine. Neither (Y/n) or Damian ever made a move to talk to their dad or brothers. Alfred was the only one allowed to stay with them.

"(Y/n), there are two men asking to talk to you," an officer stated.

"What are their names? Because if it's my dad or brother's I don't want to speak with them."

The guy nodded and walked away to go talk to the pair that wanted to talk to her. Quickly she compared fingerprints and weapons from a recent case to one that happened a few months back. The crimes were very similar, too similar in the way they were planned, they had to be connected in some way or shape.

“(Y/n), they said their names were Bart Allen and Jon Kent. Do you still want them to come in?”

A smile graced the young woman’s face and she nodded, “Yes right away.”

Jon, Bart, Damian and (Y/n) were all close friends. They helped each other out and helped each other through school. More often than that they just hung out like normal people and lived normal lives. Inside jokes and random visits were a normalcy among the group, not one falter was possible between them. (Y/n) was going to guess that the man was new to the station since everyone knew who Jon and Bart were. Looking up as two figures she stood up sharply a glare in her eyes. Now she was certain the man was new or paid off, no one would let those two in to talk to her. It was common knowledge that the (Y/n) and Damian Wayne didn't talk to the rest of their family and everyone knew who was in the group.

She tapped her bracelet that went unnoticed at the sight of the two. Damian would come as soon as possible, as would Bart and Jon. She needed to get away from these two, now.

"Sit down sis, we just want to chat."

"There is nothing to chat about Timothy. Why did you and Richard come? You know I want nothing to do with Gotham or the rest of our family. So why are you two bothering me while I'm clearly working?"

Both men frowned at her, "Look we just wanted to apologize about-"

"About what?” (Y/n) cut off. She was well aware that her co-workers were getting ready to move the two young men if needed. “About forgetting my existence for all the time you’ve known me? Only showing you cared when I left for Central? Richard, Timothy, if you wanted anytime to apologize then it should have been soon after I left. It’s been five years, not five weeks, five years. I’ve made a life for myself and so has Damian, we don’t plan on leaving our new lives.

“If you wished to apologize then go ahead apologize, that doesn’t mean a I’ll be forgiving you for what you did. You can talk to Damian, that is if he doesn’t punch you first.” She nodded as she looked past the two and to her friends and little brother. None of them looked happy, in fact Damian looked ready to murder both of them, Tim mostly.

“Honestly, don’t you remember when we skipped stones?” Dick tried to get to her. All he got was a blank look and a nod. “We had fun and we were siblings.”

“The key words in that sentence are had and were. Dick, you have no right to come here and make sure she talks to you.”

Dick looked at Bart in surprise of what came out of the young speedster’s mouth. Jon nodded in agreement and Damian was faster than you could blink. One second he was next to Jon and the next he was in front of Tim. The only things holding back were his morals and Jon’s grip on his arm.

“(Y/n) we can remove them from the premises if you wish.”

“That won’t be necessary Captain. I’m sorry for the disruption, may I leave early?”

“Of course.”

The woman packed her things and grabbed Tim’s and Dick’s arms before dragging them out with her three boys behind her, all chuckling in amusement. Soon they reached a small diner where the six got a table.

“Why are you two here?” (Y/n) questioned. She looked Tim dead in the eye and he couldn’t help but remember the night she had left, the day right before Damian’s graduation. Dick couldn’t believe how much his sister had grown from when he last saw her on Christmas about six or seven years back.

“We wanted to talk,” Dick replied, he was trying hard to stay calm but couldn’t as Jon sat next to him, giving him pointed glares.

Damian rolled his eyes from across Jon, “Well, we’re talking. You better say what you need to by the time this early dinner ends. We have places to be.”

“The winter festival,” Tim guessed. “We know what you four have been up to for the past few years. You all volunteer at homeless shelters, help out where ever your needed, only as your civil identities. You four are like everyday heroes that help with the small stuff.”

“While that is all correct, why have you been keeping tabs on us in the first place?” Damian questioned, his eyes zeroed in on the older men.

Dick shrugged, “Wanted to make sure our little siblings are well and safe.”

The two Waynes scoffed and rolled their eyes, glancing down at the menus. They both doubted that was the reason why they tried to corner (Y/n) at her job. The waitress took their drink orders and hurried off but the tension still stood.

“Look, why are you really here? What could you possibly know?”

“Enough,” Tim said causally. “Damian’s a veterinarian, not that I’m surprised by that. You’re a forensic sciencetist, that was a little startling seeing as you went to medical school. Jon’s a journalist like Clark, one of the best actually which is surprising, I always remembered you as a goof ball. Bart is also a scienctist that specializes in physics. All four of you live in Central City, right across the hall from each other in fact. (Y/n) and Damian live in the same apartment that the had moved into and Jon and Bart live as roommates right around the hall. However, Jon and Damian spend more time with each other while Bart and (Y/n) spend more time with each other. Should we be worried about that?”

“Should you even care?” Bart snapped. “These are our personal lives and no offense Drake, we don’t want you in it. You had your shot and you missed it.”

“Look, we just want to set a new play field,” Dick began. “We don’t have to be friends though we’d prefer it. We know being siblings is out of the question so friends?”

“Acquaintances,” Damian spoke up. “We’ll see about friends in the future but we’re acquaintances. I don’t forgive you for what you’ve done and by the look in (Y/n)’s not forgiving you guys either.”

“Damian’s correct, I don’t forgive you and nor will I be your friend at this time. We will only be acquaintances and nothing more. I have not intention on being your sister in any time.”

The six sat in silence, a little less tension than before. Soon after dinner was over they went their separate ways. Though Dick and Tim were not Damian and (Y/n)’s siblings and would never be, perhaps becoming friends would be better. The pair went back to Gotham and informed everyone of what had happened, no one was overly pleased. The group of four however enjoyed the rest of their evening laughing and talking all happy that the festival was taking place.

There were things that had changed over the past five years like stones being skipped.

First, Damian stopped being so serious and stiff. He would talk, laugh, and joke like most people his age would. He enjoyed his life as he lived it and didn’t insult people unless they deserved it. The press and media saw the change of the Past Gotham Prince and people saw him as he had truly become. A young man with a love for animals who was actually a truly caring person that would help anyone and everyone.

Second, (Y/n) had let her emotions take more control over her thoughts and actions than she normally had. She was able to help as many people as she could both in and out of her job. She was great at her job and people seemed to recognize her as more than just a silent and pretty face. She was a smart woman and was ready for most anything and to help those who needed it. She wasn’t Gotham City’s princess anymore but a Central City Hero.

Third, Jon had indeed moved to Central City and followed Clark’s footsteps as he became one of the best journalists known around the nation. He gave his adoptive parents a run for their money as he wrote and got his stories published. His powers helped him, especially his super hearing which could pick up most conversations that he wanted to hear. He was a favorite in Central City for his writing, it was something that surprised those closest to him but he had a natural talent for it.

Fourth, Bart gave up the superhero gig and started a normal life. He’d get called in about once every year for an extreme emergency and that was all he’d listen to. He didn’t have an easy job as a physicist as it was a complicated task but he enjoyed it none the less. He was one of the best in the city.

Fifth, Bart and (Y/n) had gotten together, but they didn’t go public. Last thing they wanted was for the press and media to find out so they just acted like good friends in front of people. It hasn’t changed the group’s dynamic at all, they were all great friends and that would never stop.

They had changed into people they never thought they would be. All four were happy, glad to have each other and glad to have left.

“Stone skipping?” Damian asked as they got hot chocolate.

“I was naive, thought it was fun. I liked to see how far I could get it to skip before sinking.”

The group smiled and joked around, teasing each other as the winter festival brought joy to everyone there. Even so, Damian couldn’t help but think that people themselves were like skipping stones, they could only go so far before they sunk to their lowest point. It was only a matter of time before someone went to pick them back up again and test how far they could go once again and doing better than before, perhaps even reaching the goal that was set. It was a never ending cycle and he couldn’t help but smile even more as he realized that his sister was like an embodiment of that cycle.

———

Note: I don’t know why, but writing the last part made me very emotional. When writing this chapter I realized what Damian had and I hope I’ve entertained you! You can message me request if you want me to write something but I hope you all have a good day and enjoyed what I wrote. Also shoutout to @lizlil for being so kind and writing what she had. But shoutout to everyone that liked the story or commented on them.

#tim drake #damian wayne #reader #batsis imagine #batsiblings #batfam x batsis #stone skipping #bart allen #jon kent #change #life #dick grayson #apologize #don’t always forgive

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lassostark · 4 years

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Day 7 Prompt for @geraltfluffweek: Established Relationship

Rating: Explicit Relationship/s: Geralt/Jaskier Warnings: None

Summary:

5 occasions the others accidentally walked in or overheard Geralt and Jaskier being disgusting and disgustingly in love, and 1 occasion they witnessed it together and it was okay.

Excerpt:

Eskel

He’s on his way to the library to return the books he brought with him on the Path when Eskel’s enhanced hearing picks up a peculiar sound. He slows his footsteps to be sure of what he heard, and —

Yes. Someone’s giggling, the pitch higher than normal, as if they’re being tickled. Then the giggling is followed by another voice. Lower, growlier.

Eskel’s eyes widen in realisation when he registers the voices belong to Jaskier and Geralt, respectively.

Training his ears to hear more, he listens as the bard, who’s the one giggling, speaks up.

“G-Geralt, someone could show up any moment!”

His brother’s playful growl follows next.

“Let them. It’s not like they haven’t seen us fuck before.”

Jaskier snorts. “That’s not the point, my love. As much as I enjoy our escapades around here, I don’t think Vesemir would appreciate it if he caught us desecrating his poor books. Again.”

Eskel’s brows almost reach his hairline at that proclamation, mortification and amusement warring in him at the thought of those two fucking in the library and defiling the books. Books that are older than all of them.

Melitele preserve us, I hope they didn’t touch the poetry section, Eskel thinks despondently.

“Hmm,” Eskel hears Geralt hum then. Even from afar it’s easy to detect the smugness in his brother’s tone. “You weren’t complaining when Yen was here last time and I had to gag you at the back.”

Eskel groans to himself. Fuck, they fucked in the poetry section. Godsdamn their insatiable arses.

He quietly turns around and is about to leave when Eskel hears Jaskier giggle again.

“Yes, but you weren’t complaining when I was choking on your cock, darling. Admit it, you love it every time you come down my throat.”

There’s definitely a wolfish grin on Geralt’s face when he says, “Hmm, yes, I do. But not as much as I love you, my little lark.”

Oh gods, Eskel thinks with a whimper as he quickens his pace. They still have two more months of winter left, and who knows what else those two are planning to do.

Even though Eskel is thrilled for Geralt finally finding happiness in his bard, there’s no erasing the fact that the poetry section in the library will need be disinfected. Very thoroughly.

Come to that, probably the whole library needs a good cleaning. Eskel shakes his head with a long-suffering sigh, but the small smile on his face belies his amusement on the whole thing.

Lambert

One of the joys of being at Kaer Morhen is the hot springs, in Lambert’s not-so humble opinion. After spending the whole day doing repairs at the keep, or after spending the whole morning training with his brothers and training the pup, Lambert loves bathing at the springs. Other times, he doesn’t even have to wait to be filthy in order to take a bath. He just goes down at random hours of the day and spends at least an hour soaking in the steaming, sulfuric water.

Naturally, he doesn’t get to be the only one there. Sometimes his brothers and Jaskier are there, and sometimes it’s the violet-eyed sorceress, who makes Lambert’s skin crawl. They’ve been stuck at the keep for the better part of a month now and he has only started to get comfortable around her.

Godsdamn fucking sorceress, he thinks, so much pretense and they act as if you’re the shit at the bottom of their high-heeled shoes.

But Yennefer is different, apparently, according to Geralt. Lambert doesn’t fucking see it, but his brother’s Child Surprise adores the witch. Plus, there’s the bard — Geralt’s bard, his mind corrects — who has developed a somewhat love-hate relationship with her as well. Always exchanging barbed comments and thinly veined insults that makes Lambert’s head spin because why the fuck do these people need to speak in riddles? Just say what you mean to say and be fucking done with it. There’s no need to make conversations complicated. The world’s complex enough and fucked up as it is.

Ah well, Lambert thinks as he makes his make down the stairs one afternoon after doing repairs at the southern wall. He’s covered head to toe in grime and dust, his body itching to get cleaned up. Not my problem. Besides, it’s kinda nice to have a witch on-call in case anything shitty comes up.

That was Lambert’s last thought when he reaches the double doors to the hot springs. He comes to an abrupt halt when he hears something peculiar. Brows furrowed and head cocked, Lambert listens closely for the unusual sound.

“Oh, fuck, Jas — ah, ah — just like that, ah!”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, my love. All spread out and stretched just for me— fuck. My cock feels so good inside you. So perfect for me.”

“Jas…” Geralt whimpers.

Lambert feels several emotions run through him in the span of two seconds.

Curiosity. Shock. Horror. Embarrassment. Annoyance. Nausea.

“I love you so much,” he hears Jaskier moan, the telltale sound of skin slapping on skin loud even to Lambert’s ears. “Fuck, you feel so good, darling.”

Geralt groans, and his voice is like gravel when he rasps out, “Love you too— nngh, fuck — you feel so fucking good, Jas.”

Melitele’s fucking tits, Lambert screams in his head, disappointment settling in his gut. Not a-fucking-gain! This is the fifth godsdamn fucking time this week!

Admittedly, Lambert should’ve gotten used to it by now. After all, they only get to be completely comfortable in the privacy and safety of the keep. So the fact that his brother is going all out in his newfound relationship with Jaskier should be old news. So in a way, he kind of is used to it.

Hell, he’s even happy for Geralt. He can barely recall the last time he’s seen his older brother look so… so content and relaxed.

But it’s one thing to see them be all disgustingly sweet, trading kisses and affectionate touches at all times of the day. And it’s entirely another thing to accidentally walk in on those arseholes fucking each other like horny rabbits or like it’s going to be the end of the fucking world tomorrow.

Lambert has no qualms with nudity. Hell, he’s seen his brothers naked loads of times before, and he’s had his fair share of threesomes. He’s no prude, but. But. It’s not the same if you see your brother, or your brother’s lover, balls deep in one another and moaning and howling like fucking wolves.

It’s this thing called public decency.

Melitele’s fucking tits.

With a frustrated growl, Lambert turns around and stomps back out the way he came from, ignoring the bard’s yelp of surprise and Geralt’s shameless chuckles in his wake.

Vesemir

Vesemir is on his way to the stables to check up on his horse when he hears it.

Rather, when he hears them.

“Oh fuck,” the bard, Jaskier, moans. “Geralt, fuck, how’d you—”

He hears Geralt growl, and Vesemir can’t help but wince at what sounds to be a particularly hard, and rough, plowing the bard is getting this early in the morning.

“Could tell you wanted to be taken here,” Geralt grunts in-between thrusts. “My insatiable, naughty bard. Love it when you just— fuck — can’t get enough of my cock.”

Even this far, Vesemir can see the wooden walls tremble from where the bard is likely pushed up against.

“Geralt, fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier moans, and Vesemir’s lips curl in distaste when he hears one of his pups snarl and quicken his pace. “S-so good. So fucking good, my darling. My wolf— ah! Want you to come in me.”

And I’m leaving, Vesemir shakes his head and turns around to go back to the entrance hall.

He spots Ciri skipping past the doors, an exuberant smile on the pup’s face. On any other day, Vesemir would be proud at the young girl’s dedication to her training. However, he wishes to spare her the horror of hearing or, Melitele preserve him, accidentally seeing her adopted parents in such compromising positions. Again.

“Breakfast first before training, pup,” Vesemir tells his adopted granddaughter. He chuckles at Ciri’s pout as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back inside. “Perhaps I can teach you to how to cook, hm?”

“Not like how Uncle Lambert taught me, I hope,” Ciri quips with a small smirk.

Vesemir snorts and shakes his head. Only a month and a half with them and she’s already a spitfire. Ah, she’s going to be the best of them.

“Not at all, pup,” Vesemir reassures her with a pat on her ash-blonde head. “Your Uncle Lambert is now forbidden from cooking following that incident.”

(Read on AO3)

#geraltfluffweek #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #5+1 #5+1 fic #wow can't believe it finished the whole week #IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF #wooooh!!!#my writing

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darknessisafriend · 5 years

Text

Your savior

Tag list: @help-i-am-obssessed @the-ineffable-dreamer

Request from @sirianfromsixties

Prompt: Hi Would you do a Joker x Reader like : it was late night in Gotham and the reader was walking alone when 3 men started to harass her and punch her till,while she's on the floor all hurt and In pain,someone came and shoot the 3 men,then take her senseless to his "home" to take care of her?(it's the joker obv) Then idk,like,when she wakes up she's scared but then only thankfull and turned on by him and things happens?And this is becoming smuth

NSFW

Here it is ! I’m really happy to share this with you people, hope you’ll like it <3

You were tired, your day at work got longer than expected and you had to work on extra material until 9pm. To make things worse you lived around 45 min away from work, the subway was fine, a lot of people were taking this line to go out, it made you feel safe. Cities and especially Gotham were dangerous places for women, even more if you’re alone outside after 8 in the evening. Now what worried you the most was this 15 minutes’ walk from the subway to your flat; the neighborhood wasn’t bad in itself but there was couple of bars nearby and drunk people could really become annoying and creepy; you stopped counting how many times you had to speed your pace because of some guys calling you and even following you.

You exited the subway stop, it was getting quite cold, after all it was October. You tighten your coat around your body and walked to your flat; the way was pretty simple, you kept walking on the main street then at the crossing turn left, until you reach the adjacent street where was your flat. Even if the city made you nervous, you enjoyed the night, the few stars you could see mixed with the lights of the skyscrapers was beautiful.

“Hi…” lost in your thoughts you startled at hearing someone calling you. You quickly glanced in their direction, there was 3 guys sitting on the steps of a building, a couple of bottles around them. ‘And here we go’ you thought starting to be nervous.

You decided to continue walking, hopefully they will leave it at that.

“Hey Miss! C’mon don’t be afraid, we just wanna talk to you!” another insisted. You continued to walk pretending not to hear them, your heartbeat increasing. You heard footsteps behind you ‘shit! Please stop!’ you wished, you started to increase your pace. Until you felt your arm being yanked back.

“Don’t you fuckin’ ignore me!” badgered the man holding your arm.

“Yeah he’s being nice to you and you act like a brat…” chided the third one. You tried to snatch your arm out of his grip.

“I’m not interested, just let me go.” You replied trying to hide the fear in your voice.

“What you think I’m not good enough for you?!

“I didn’t say…” a heavy slap across your cheek cut you off, you can feel your cheek burning, the shock makes your eyes wet. You struggled trying to free yourself from his claws and run away. But the 2 other men joined him gripping you by your coat, shoulders, pushing towards a dark alley.

“HELP!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs ‘please somebody hear me!’, you received another hit, this time a fist met your jaw, sending you to the ground, you tried to crawl away from them, but despite the alcohol they were faster than you, gripping your hair tightly.

“We’re gonna teach you good manners hussy!” one of them growled, kicking you in your belly, you curved into a ball trying to protect yourself, and they continued to punch you over and over again until you couldn’t feel the pain anymore, but only the pounding in your head and warm drops of blood dripping from various areas of your face.

“Hey, hold her, might as well take some good time with her” tempted one as he started to take off his belt ‘please not this’

A loud bang like a gunshot resonated around you “What the…!” screamed one the man, before another gunshot happened, then a third one. You wanted to move, get away but your body was becoming weaker and weaker, in fact your survival instinct was trying to keep you conscious but the hits you took had hurt you badly. The last thing you remember was a laugh, a hearty laugh, your eyelids closed, you vision becoming blurry, a red spot coming closer to you…

Several hours later

Your head was pounding, painful, your eyelids heavy. You didn’t want to move, you just felt exhausted, like any ounce of energy you had, had left your body. Whatever was surrounding you was soft…and warm. Where were you? You wondered. Suddenly everything that had happened to you surged back to your mind, their beating, your cries for help, the gunshots. Your eyes shot open. Your eyes quickly wandering around the room where you were. There was barely enough light for you to distinguish anything, there was a large window giving a view of the city, it was still the night?

There wasn’t much in the room, apart from the bed you were in; there was desk with a mirror, an ashtray, the smell of cigarette was very present and there was also tubes and pallets of paint or makeup maybe. The door was closed but you could see light peak through the cracks of the door.

As if your body was only starting to wake up, you started to feel pain, in your belly, your arms and you realized that they were full of purple bruises. You winced, which in return made your head hurt, you slowly brought your fingers to touch your face, you could feel your left eyebrow being swollen, a cut crossing it. You felt dry blood around your nostrils, and another cut at your lower lip. You felt tears prickling in your eyes, remembering the scene once again.

But you were okay now…who had saved you? In any case, you had to thank them, who knows if you’d still be alive if this mysterious savior hadn’t pulled the trigger. Cause yeah, you weren’t stupid, you remembered the gunshots and honestly you didn’t care, these assholes only got what they deserved. You wanted to thank to person who saved you.

Still, feeling cautious, you got out of bed as slowly as you could, realizing at the same time that you were only wearing your panties and undershirt, you guessed your clothes were probably full of blood and filth from the streets. You tip toed to the door, looking through the key hole, trying to spot somebody but nothing. Your hand slowly reached for the doorknob, twisting it as slowly as you could. You arrived in a much bigger room, with sofas, tables and many chairs, looked like a meeting room.

“You should be staying in bed…” you jumped at the masculine voice behind you. You took a deep breath ‘come on this person saved you, there’s nothing to fear!’ you told yourself as you pivoted to face your savior. You weren’t expecting to come face to face with the Joker. You were kind of frozen, at his sight, his eyes were intensely looking at you, he brought his cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag. You took a few steps back, your back meeting the sofa. So that explain the laugh you heard and the red you saw. You were confused, he’s supposed to be a crazy criminal regardless that he was right to speak out about the state of Gotham…why save you? He didn’t say a word, probably curious of what you’d do next. He didn’t look like he had bad intentions towards you. You caught yourslef wondering what he looked like without his makeup on but now that you had him right in front of you, he wasn’t as frightening as the media presented him, he looked quite elegant actually with his 3-piece suit, his green hair perfectly slicked back, his makeup neatly applied. You realized that he had beautiful eyes, their color going from green to an icy blue, quite captivating actually…then you became aware that you might have been starring at him for too long.

“Thank you…” you started embarrassed, lowering your eyes. He chuckled, you couldn’t help but be on your guard, to wake up at a criminal’s home after being assaulted by other criminals wasn’t a common thing…did he plan on keeping you here? This idea suddenly appeared, you started to be anxious again, quickly brushing a strand of hair behind you ear, this was the Joker there’s no way to escape him!

The clown must have sensed your sudden panic, so he walk to what you assumed to be the entrance door, and he opened it.

“You free to go but you should stay, you took a pretty bad beating, you’re still weak.” He advised, taking another drag of his cigarette. Shit, you were being stupid, if he wanted to hurt you, considering your outfit at the moment, he would have already done it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…be rude…” you stuttered. You heard him closing the door, but as the adrenaline came down, you started to feel dizzy, loosing your balance. Thankfully he was quickly by your side, holding you steady, his hands felt warm against your skin.

“You’re freezing cold, let’s go back to bed” he directed, holding you against his side, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other gently stroking your forearm. You sat on the mattress, he did the same, putting a cover over your body. It was nice to have someone taking care of you after what you’ve been through, to be comforted. Another feeling rose in your chest, your eyes becoming wet, your lower lip trembling, you didn’t want to cry but it became stronger until you couldn’t hold it anymore, tears running down on your face, your breathing erratic.

“Shhshhshh come here kitten…” he took you into his embrace, your arms wrapped around his waist beneath his vest. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and cried for several minutes. He continued to hold you, one hand stroking your back and the other caressing your hair, it soothed you, and even when you had finished crying you stayed buried in his embrace enjoying the warmth, listening to his calm heartbeat, you could smell that he was wearing Cologne. You nuzzled your nose against the skin of his neck, you wanted to be closer to him, you didn’t want to feel the hands of those assholes on you anymore, you felt soiled. And you found the Joker quite handsome, charismatic, magnetic, and he has been so gentle with you…

You brushed your lips against his skin, he chuckled.

“Now, aren’t you being a tease?” he asked, you could tell he was smiling. You looked up meeting his eyes, he was intrigued, but you could also tell that he was attracted to you, his pupils were slightly dilated starring at your lips, his hand never leaving your body since he first touched you. So you leaned in, kissing his lips; his hand instantly went to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek, his tongue came teasing your lips, so you opened your mouth, your tongue meeting his, it tasted good, addictive, a soft mix of alcohol and tobacco. The kiss became more intense, needy, you slipped on of your hands in the back of his pants trying to find more skin to feel. A moan escaped his lips, as he separated from you, panting.

“You don’t want to do this kitten…” he breathed, a mischievous glow in his eyes, a grin on his lips. You slightly frowned at this “Why?” you exclaimed, your other hand cupping his cheek, he leaned into his warmth, your thumb brushed against his lips, making him close his eyes like he was restraining himself.

“Because I won’t stop, not until I take you and make you fully mine…” he growled, reopening his eyes that were now dark with desire. Your heart skipped a beat at this confession.

“Then take me.” You purred; he didn’t need to hear more and crashed his lips against yours, slightly making your open lip bleed and making you tumble on your back on the bed, he placed himself between your legs, tracing kisses along your jaw, then your neck, his tongue tickling your skin, sucking and nibbling the most sensitive spots. You buried your fingers in his green locks, closing your eyes to enjoy even more the pleasure he was giving you, you’ve always had a very sensitive neck. You could already feel him hard against your leg. Your other traveled to his collarbone under his shirt, his skin was burning hot. He straightened, throwing his vest on the floor and unbuttoning his shirt, you watched him reveal his torso, he was thin still you could see he was muscular, he had nice biceps… You also took off your undershirt, then your bra, revealing your breast, your nipples hard. He seemed frozen.

“Damn kitten…you’re so gorgeous.” He said hungrily, pushing you back on the mattress, eagerly sucking your nipples sometimes biting them, making you gasp. Then his kisses went lower until they reach your panties. He kisses you above the fabric, teasing, you can’t help but arch your body for more. Then, with his teeth he grabs top of your panties, slowly making it slide down, you lift your hips to make it easier, he uses his right hand to yank it away. He groans as he grabs your thighs and starts to eat you out, circling around your clit, licking your labia. You’re panting, you want to feel him inside of you, you let out a needy moan.

He chuckles against your soft spot “you like that kitten?” he asks you as he came back to your mouth with a feline grin. You hungrily kiss him while your hand slides down his lower belly, then beneath his pants and underwear, you stroke his cock, gently slowly at first making him longingly moan.

“Fuck…that’s good” he swooned against your lips. He was being so sensitive to your care that it made it difficult for him to do anything, even kiss, your smirked at this.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and unzipped his pants to let his erection out. You felt his cock at your wet entrance. Slowly he entered you, you released a shaky breath when you felt him inside of you. His thrusts quickly became more forceful, his forehead against yours, his tongue devouring your mouth. You gripped his shoulders bringing him closer to you, feeling his torso brushing against your breast. He was being so caring and passionate in this moment, making sure you liked it, that he was bringing you pleasure. His thrusts became deeper and quicker making your eyes roll back. You felt yourself coming closer and closer and Joker was too, his groan becoming louder and louder. You cried at out as you came, an electrifying pleasure spreading across your body, he quickly followed you in a long moan. He was out of breath, his whole body shaking, you kissed him one more time as he slowly lied down on your body his head buried in your neck.

“You’ll never have to be alone again…I’ll protect you…” he whispers in your ear as you fell asleep, feeling safe as ever in the arms of the greatest criminal of Gotham.

#joker #joker x reader #arthur fleck x reader #Joaquin Phoenix #fanfiction

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icemintfreeze · 6 years

Note

yo.. id love to hear more abt ur ocs..... theyre fuckin epic

AaaaAAAA aight,,,,,,,let’s do this

More info about these guys will be below!!

So we got:

Mark the Magic 8 Ball, Subject: Wishes/Magic

After springing to life when Yellow asked if “Magic was real”, He’s very upbeat yet very stern when it comes to his lessons, he will literally grant you whatever wish you’d like but will not revert whatever consequences the wish brings. His pyramid has the ability to reveal what the future brings at a glance, but it drains him at times when certain requests are made (ex. what’s gonna happen In 15 years…)

for the Trio, Yellow wishes for a unicorn (which ends horribly wrong), and Bird wishes for fancy clothes (which ends poorly as well), and at the end, Red wishes for everything to be as it was before, and Mark agreed, disappearing after the wish was granted.

Next is Jaír the Mirror (Subject: Past reflections, bad luck)

Red and Bird decide to bring Yellow to a small park nearby, but beforehand, they have to clean up some leaves that have fallen outside. Red takes up the job while Bird cleans around the house, leaving Yellow in his room, preparing his mittens and scarves and jacket. As he was, he found a small mirror and decided to play around with his hair. But as he does so, he nearly drops the mirror, but thankfully catches it. He sighs in relief, only to hear a voice say, “That was a close one, surely you must be relieved.”

Jaír then goes on about how mirrors are used, and how reflecting on past decisions are similar to the reflection of a mirror. He then whispers about breaking a mirror, and the superstition around it. Yellow is now paranoid, and tries to leave the room to find Duck and Red, but Jaír lures Yellow back, and tells him to look at him. As he hesitantly does so, he can see the body of Red and Duck, lying lifelessly on the ground behind him. This makes him panic, and feel guilty, hence he hasn’t been able to check up on them to see if they were ready or ok. Jaír taunts poor Yellow, but soon, Yellow decides he’s had enough, and throws Jaír on the ground, smashing him into bits. Things get quiet, as Yellow is left recollecting his thoughts…

Before spirits began to dash out of the broken mirror.

The Spirits, being those of Red and Bird. Distressed and angry, they begin to fly around Yellow, blaming him for their deaths and tormenting him, and soon, Yellow curls up in a ball, and sobs, begging for forgiveness.

And soon, everything goes quiet.

Yellow looks up, and realizes that the sun was now filling his room with light; as he slowly sat up. He heard footsteps, and the door opened to reveal,

Red and Bird. Their eyes filled with relief and worry as they ran towards Yellow and embraced him into a big hug. The only thing Yellow managed to say was,

“I’m sorry.” And

“You saw him too, didn’t you.”

Now! Coronia the Crown!! (Subject: Manners and Royalty/Leadership)

The trio was playing a small game of ‘dress up’, as they moved onto the theme of medevil ages, and Bird decided to be a knight, Red was a servant and Yellow, wanted to be a king. He digged around in a large box filled with clothing and found a Shiny crown, and a red cape. As soon as he finished dressing himself up, he beamed with pride and said,

“I am the king!”

And no sooner than later..

“You hear that? He’s the King!”

The three look up and see that the Crown now had eyes, a mouth, and arms, as it patted Yellows head and began to sing.

His lesson teaches the three about the medieval times and what it meant to be royal, as well as the manners and prom and proper way to be seen. He goes on about how the king is seen as perfect and loving, his knight brave and modest, and his servant loyal and trusting. They are all soon in full-apparel, Bird in shining armor, Red in servant apparel and Yellow covered with red and purple clothing, with jewels and diamonds all over.

But things go downhill once Yellow becomes too kind; he lets Bird take what he would like as well as Red and his ‘people’, and Coronia lectures him about how he had to keep his riches and keep limits; if not then he would be used. Yellow understands quickly and stops everyone, which soon leads to a angered mob (excluding red and bird, who tried to fiend them off)

Coronia then tells Yellow that in order to be king, punishment must be apart of the lifestyle. If anyone dared disobey him, they’d be punished, or even worse; executed. Coronia forced Red and Bird to grab people and bring them to a guillotine, but they refused, believing that it was now being taken way to far. Coronia, unpleased and with a snap of his finger, suddenly had Red beneath the guillotine, tied up and ready to be executed. Yellow stopped and threw Coronia down, and quickly ran over to help his friend from the guillotine. And this angered Coronia. He said, that he’d either execute red or bird, or execute the king.

But as he reached towards the three, he suddenly began to glitch out, and soon, the three were poofed back into their home; the guillotine gone, the armor and suit, gone.

All that was left, was the red cloak.

The crown was no where to be seen.

Now we got Palomi the Phone!! (Subject: Self-comparison and self-esteem)

So, one day, Red finds a small cell phone in a cabinet, and decided to show Bird and Yellow. He tried to turn it on, but, it was dead.

Interested in finding out what the phone could do, he went off to find a charger in the cabinets.

But as he did, a ding came from the living room, with a small gasp of shock and admiration.

Red walked back and realized that the phone was now in Yellows hands, the screen on with a bright, glowing face staring up at Yellow.

“Hello! What can I help you with today?”

And this begins her lesson. She tells the trio about social media and the cliques online, and soon tells them about the comparison of fashion, looks and lifestyle that many do inspired by social media. And soon, this brings the three under some sort of spell. Red is determined to capture every moment with Bird and Yellow. Bird is determined to be as good looking as possible, and Yellow is determined to become stronger and gain muscles. Palomi supports them on their journey, giving them tips and advice, but soon, things go bad. Palomi scolds Bird for wearing bland clothing; she yells at Red for not cleaning up the house more for photos, and is disappointed in Yellows attempts to exercise. She then leads them overboard, refusing to let Yellow eat much of anything and exercise day and night, making Red decorate everything to look like a perfect household, and making Bird spend hundreds an hundreds on clothes and make-up. Soon, Bird decides that enough is enough. He goes over to Palomi, but she quickly takes a snapshot of him, which blinds him for a second. She then yells. “HA! You’re reputation! You’re reputation is TAINTED!! Say goodbye to your followers dearie, they’ve ALL seen your true colors…” She then taunts all of them as the three receive hateful messages and comments, and it drives Bird and Yellow into a hysteria. But Red? He barricades through alll the hate and comments and manages to shut Palomi down, permanently. And soon, they are in the living room once again, the phone in Red’s hand. Bird was now in his regular clothing, Yellow was now fed and nourished, and the house was as perfect as it was before.

Red then goes over and places the phone back, locking it away permanently.

And finally?? We have?? Shimara the Soap Bar (Subject: Hygiene/ Habits)

One day, the three are doing some cleaning around the house, and Yellow is all finished with what he had to do (make his bed, fold his clothes, etc.) and he just starts to play with his hair, a small habit that he has. He then begins to hear, humming, coming from the bathroom? The hums were a high pitched sound, it was surely not Red or Duck..

Yellow went on to investigate, and soon saw that the small bar of soap was humming. As soon as Yellow stepped in, she turned around and smiled.

“My apologies dear! Humming is a habit of mine…whats yours?”

So this is the start of her lesson, and Yellow follows her as she goes over to Red and then to Bird, gathering the three and teaching them about habits.

She begins with the good habits, such as exercising at a good rate every day, eating a balanced diet, cleaning, etc. and soon, the trio follow her habits.

But then she brings up the negative habits, such as nail-biting, skipping meals, etc. and the trio begin to obtain those habits. Yellow with nail biting, Bird with skipping meals and Red being an excessive coffee drinker. The effects soon hit the three hard, and they try to find a way to stop these bad habits. Shimara simply tells them that there isnt a way to stop them, that theyll be stuck with these habits forever, before humming back into the bathroom, her hums becoming quieter and quieter.

Yellow seemed to follow her, while Red and Bird tried to fight off the urges of the habits, before the music died down, and soon, everything was silent.

Red no longer had the urge to drink coffee. Bird was now eating a comfortable, healthy meal.

But Yellow, was gone.

holy crap, this was very VERY long but. I managed to come up with what role these oc’s would play if they were in the series hooghfgh

but!!! i hope that you like them!!!!!!

#thank u for just. liking them aAAAA #ice draws #asks #dhmis #dhmis oc #dont hug me I'm scared #please reblog??#thank u.................

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lizacstuff · 7 years

Text

7x04 Anons

I have a ton of asks so I’ll answer a few under the cut. A lot of them deal with negativity over the ep and season so be warned and don’t click if you don’t want to read that.

Anonymous said:Liza, have you watched tonight's episode? What did you think of the Rumbelle send off? And of Alice being Roger's daughter?

I had zero emotional reaction to Rumbelle’s story in this episode. None. It’s been too toxic and gross and I have never really cared about it so it didn’t make me feel anything at all. I was curious what they were going to do. Now I know.

As far as Alice being WishHook’s daughter. Eh. So they take the only interesting character and now she’s a fake Wish person too? I just can’t with this nonsense. I’m having a lot of problems with WishHook, so I’m not thrilled she’s tied to his story.

Colin is still hot and an awesome human being and a terrific actor, but the plot... it’s a no for me.

Anonymous said:Sometimes I think Adam and Eddy believe they are the most clever people to ever write, and that everyone else are simple minded peasants. Like that one post-7x04 interview where the interviewer asked if Alice is wish Hook's daughter. "You're very perceptive." Uh, no, Adam and Eddy. You just have all the subtlety of a freight train. You had Alice and Rogers play chess. Wish Hook and his daughter played chess. It's obvious. Don't talk to people like they're stupid for figuring the obvious out.

This show has always been pretty obvious about some things, but they used to pull off some twists. I remember a time when fan speculation was way more wrong than it is right.

However, season 7 is just really obvious in terms of some of the “big twists.” Take Alice being the LGBT character, the entire fandom speculated that from the first second she appeared in shooting spoilers based on stereotypes. I have been hoping it’s not her because of those stereotypes, but nope! They had no surprises up their sleeve with it. Then most people immediately assumed she was Roger’s daughter the second we found out he had one... and apparently no twist there either.

I guess the days of the entire fandom being shocked by finding out Hook is the Dark One and Dark Swan did everything for Hook... are over.

Of course we should have known this reboot lost all subtlety in the second episode when everyone and their mother kept asking Henry if he was in love with the random woman he just met.

Anonymous said:I know the promo pics didn't spell anything good for Belle, but I'm still surprised that they actually had her die. I kept thinking that there would be some twist to it.

As I was just saying... no twists, no turns. It’s exactly as everyone predicted.

Anonymous said:I didn't watch the ep, but shit Henry and ivy have so much more chemistry than the other girl. Cinderella I think lol damn talk about epic romance also I saw comments that also agree with the Henry and ivy

If you haven’t watched how do you know they have more chemistry? Seriously, that’s kind of ridiculous. What are you basing that on?

Anonymous said:ouat is a weird show, it requires you to pay really pay attention but not to close of attention or you will notice all the plot holes

100% accurate. This reboot is creating so many more plot holes with all the magic mcguffins that are suddenly in play. I guess you either have to accept it and go along for the ride, or recognize it for what it is.

Anonymous said:hey liza, who are your favourite characters from the new cast? some of them don’t really impress me but i quite like ivy and tilly.

Both of those characters have some interesting aspects to them. It may have a lot to do with the performers. I haven’t been impressed with Gabriel, Dania or Mekia’s choices so far, but Adelaide and Rose have interesting screen presence.

Anonymous said:Drizella really is a Mean Girls version of Regina. I'm between finding her general attitude annoying and finding her somewhat sympathetic considering she has to deal with Tremaine all day.

You mean Regina when she was a girl and under Cora’s thumb? I could see that comparison. Lets hope Drizella doesn’t follow in Regina’s footsteps and become the mass murdering rapist in town.

Anonymous said:Did Rumbelle build the house in Storybrooke?

Um... I’m not sure I understand this question. In the show I believe that Up-inspired cabin where they were living isolated from everything and everyone else (do people really find that a happy ending?) was in the edge of realms.

Anonymous said:I'm almost mad that we got to see more of Belle and Rumple's story than we did of Captain Swan. We all know they are living their happy ending but it would still be wonderful to see a little clip of Emma sitting on the beach with their daughter waiting for Killian to show up and join their picnic. Just some good ole domestic Captain Swan on scene would make me so happy. *sigh*

I have a number of anons like this, and just NOPE.

First, we did not see more of Rumbelle than CS on this show. Rumbelle was a backburner story that was most often characterized as a cautionary tale of abuse and manipulation and the pair were mostly apart and had very little focus through the run of the series.

The showrunners decided that going forward they needed viewers to feel good about Belle and RB so after making them a gross, toxic mess for seasons now (it was just last year that Rumple was fucking the Evil Queen while Belle ran and hid for her life as he stalked and threatened her) they gave fans a bunch of twee scenes of her growing old (a life she lived isolated from everyone but two people) and dying in order to get rid of her and give Rumple motivation for this idiotic S7.

You’re jealous of that? Seriously? Fuck no.

Also you need to understand that 7.02 and 7.04 were very different episodes. 7.02 was still really Henry's story and a moment in time where he called for help and got to see his parents for a few minutes and we all found out that Emma and Hook are doing great and gonna have a baby and living a blissfully happy life together. It was just a check in where it was confirmed for us that Operation Happy Beginning has been a success and things are amazing. Also it spun off WishHook and completely separated the plot of S7 away from CS. 7.04 was 100% Rumple plot and his story. It explained why he's there and what is motivating him in Hyperion Heights. Very different. For 7.02, CS were not the focus because they didn’t need to be. Nothing in S7 requires knowing exactly what is going to happen to them minute by minute. I'll take less screen time and my OTP being completely disentangled from this mess any day of the week.

Anonymous said:Lol my jealousy of Rumbelle having more focus than CS has dropped to 0%, that episode was eh. CS is expecting a baby, and Belle is dead after spending her life trying to fix rumple's. Nice.

Yep. Look, I’m happy for any fans of Rumple or Belle that are happy about this episode and found peace in Belle’s life, but the writers did too much damage to this pairing over the years for me to care about it at all.

Anonymous said:While I can't stand rumbelle I feel for the shippers. They did get some happy scenes but their ship is going to spend the rest of the season apart and in pain until the half alive dies.

Yeah... I would not like that, I don’t think. It’s just kind of creepy and icky and ew-ey. However, to each her own.

Anonymous said:Agreed with that anon, there some good moments, but this was definitely not even close to one of the best episodes of the series. I have to respectfully disagree with Colin on this one. (Actually season 7 in its entirety lol)

Oh dear sweet Colin. Just trying to do his job. So many cast and crew and media have shot their hyperbolic wad with this episode. Calling it the best EVER!!!!! What will they say for the rest of the season? “This is the second best episode EVER!!!!!” Or will they keep one upping every time they have to promote an ep?

No one with an economic interest in S7 can be trusted when talking about the quality of this season (and I include Mitovich and NA in that.)

Anonymous said:I didn't watch the episode but I'm curious: are we supposed to believe that when Belle dies Emma and Killian are old too or was there some timeline glitch and Emma and Killian are still young in Storybrooke at the time of HH events?

Who knows. Belle and Rumple were off living at the Edge of Realms for the last years of her life. Rumple said something about time standing still there except for Belle??? I think. (my mind kept wandering duiring those scenes becuse they were so boring) Then after she died he opened a portal thingy to go to the time and place where the Guardian (the deux ex machina that is going to cure him of the Dark One curse) lives and Rumple was then transported to the newEF (that looks exactly like the old, I mean couldn’t they have given this new storybook’s fairy tale land some stylistic differences???) on the night of Cinderella’s Ball and we see Henry drive by on his motorcycle.

So yes, I think some of the flashforwards could have been from far in the future, and some could have been not all that distant because they were in a weird realm with weird time mechanics.

However, I think Rumple and Belle left Storybrooke well before Henry did (they talk about it at Gideon’s first birthday and Henry still would have been about 14 at that time) so by the time this Hyperion Heights stuff is happening they would have been off in Fairy Tale land “traveling?” (ie living their lives in dusty libraries searching books for a way to cure Rumple.)

It hurts ones head to try to sort it all out.

Anonymous said:After watching this episode, all I think is how sad it is how far this show gone from greatness. Going back 3 years, I would’ve never imagined ouat would be like this now. Sorry for being dramatic, it’s all just so jarring.

I think one of the most unfortunate things about this is that I really think OUAT could have been a valuable and viable franchise for years to come. However, they tried to reboot it too soon. As I’ve said since last spring, I think it would have been much better to let it rest a year or two and then come back with 10-13 episode event series for ABC.

However, this experiment will probably negate any opportunity for that.

Anonymous said:I think it's a little sad that in real time, Belle died like 5-10 years after the s6 finale. I know it was longer for her but to everyone else that knew her, it'd be like she died young.

Yep. I’m not sure if in Hyperion Heights or Storybrooke in 2017 if Belle is dead, dead, or still living out her life at the edge of realms or wherever and Rumple traveled back in time???

I don’t know.

Anonymous said:Do you think killing Belle off is going to decrease the ratings more?

Nope. If ratings do decrease, I don’t think that will have been a factor.

Anonymous said:They lost viewers even with the episode they promoted the most wow

They did and yes, other than the premiere, this has been the most promoted episode. As I’ve said since the premiere, ep 5 ratings should be the most telling. I’m guessing that will be the baseline for the rest of the half season. At that point anyone in the audience who was just curious if they would preserve our favorites happy endings from the first 6 season will know and there won’t be a bump from that. We’ll see.

#ouat negativity #asklizac #ouat 7x04 #ouat 7.04 #ouat s7 #anonymous

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