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loreculus · 2 years

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like you were written for me (ii)

summary: in which i read a lot of pretty things that remind me of a lot of genshin impact characters (back by popular demand, tysm for the support! you all own my heart).

featuring: albedo, childe, dainsleif, diluc, itto, kaeya x gn!reader (seperately)

cw: mentions of childe's real name

personal favorites: childe, dainsleif

a/n: i'm sorry for being mia!! school is killing me slowly hard. also,,, sorry for always giving kaeya angst. i don't even mean to, it's just so fitting for him. T^T ALSO! this is x gn!reader but please let me know if they are any pronouns slips that i may have missed :) enjoy loves!! <3

albedo k. — "from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me." adonis.

the air was unsettled as you posed against the rocky perch; a faint breeze working rosiness into your cheeks and goosebumps up your arms. to your back was the ocean blue and to your front was the white of your lover's hair.

albedo sat neatly in the green of the earth, his paintbrush dancing colors across the white canvas in front of him. painting was his passion, and you, his muse. like a true daughter of mnemosyne, you were an endless source of inspiration for him, a constant tickling of his senses and thoughts. he felt like a prisoner, the way your soul captured his own.

but just like he never thought of himself a genius, neither did you consider yourself a model. he almost found it funny, how you could spew praise but never take it. he loved that humble character of yours, but he also wanted to rid you of it. even if for only a moment, he wanted to see you fall for the sight of your image, like he did with each waking moment.

the belly of his brush maneuvered around the portrait, it's bristles staining the linen as it went. various pigments were quick to flood the piece, and it's whiteness soon drowned in the care of it. albedo delicately traced your features into the art, loving the way the brush spiraled over each curve and drifted over every detail. from the base of your neck, to the arch of your eyelids, your beauty made a slave of him.

"albedo, can i finally see it?" your eyes pointed to the eisel.

his lips curved into a soft smile, pleased by your eagerness. he extended his hand towards you, saying, "come here, love."

childe — "that's the trouble with loving a wild thing: you're always left watching the door." edith pattou.

you laid sprawled underneath the covers of your shared bed, cheek pressing against the pillow. though your body sat still, your eyes danced at the door.

ajax was always a busy man—that simply came with his job of being a harbinger. thus, most nights consisted of you under the covers, curtains sheltering you from the moonlight, awaiting his return. most nights, that return never came. but some nights, nights like this one, a certain red-haired loverboy would finally walk through the wooden entryway and join you in your reverie.

his arms were quick to consume you, gently wrapping around your torso. his head found a home in your neck, the tops of his hair pressing against your nose. his affections were typically more dominating, for he much preferred your head to be cradled by his chest, but the fatigue from his work kept him from caring. beggers can't be choosers, as they say.

and it's not as if he could claim to be uncomfortable either, the layering of your bodies was the warmth he needed on any cold snezhnayan night.

ah, snezhnaya. the land of his hearth and home that oddly seperated him from you, his strength and stay. he originally joined the fatui to quench his thirst for battle, to provide a wealth of challenges to test his might; but, it would seem the greatest challenge now was fighting on the battlefield knowing what waited for him at home. though he was still very much enamoured by the feel of his hand clutched around a weapon, the affection he harbored for you grew by the minute.

because who, even a battle-hungry tool like himself, could resist the care of an angel on earth? the warmth of your smile, the softness of your touch? even now, as you both lie together, eyes lightly lidded and minds half-asleep, he finds his self-control depleted and his senses consumed by you. and, though he'd never admit it, he preferred it this way. despite considering himself a weapon, he'd rather fall ill with your love than die by the blade of the enemy.

as you laid there entangled, you both wanted nothing more than to be frozen in time—snuggled so close you shared a heartbeat. but this world was a cruel one, and dreams didn't always come true. a ringing noise from the corner of the bedroom demanded your lover's attention, and he groggily got up to heed it's call. in no more than a minute, ajax's tired expression was off his face and his boots were on his feet. before setting off, he took your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of it, saying, "sorry, love. i'll be home soon."

and then he was gone, out the door in which he came. you were gutted, but it wasn't a new feeling. to be honest, this recurring sentiment kept you company longer than childe did. but you guessed that was just the trouble with loving a wild thing: you were always left watching the door, waiting for him to walk back through it.

dainsleif — "in the crooks of your body, i find my religion." sappho.

dainsleif was never a holy man, the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth. recently, however, he has found himself following someone like the apostles trailed the lord: you.

how he went from avoiding archons to making one out of you, he had no idea. for all he knew now was the sound of your voice and the way honey escaped your lips; the feel of his fingers between your hair and how he wouldn't mind getting tangled in it; the abyss that was your eyes and drowning in the depth of them.

not that he would ever want you to know that's how he felt. after the despair of his nation and the loss of his mortality, he doesn't want to lift you up only to make you fall. he knows the pain of that feeling all too well. so while you said "hello" like an invitation, he said "goodbye" like a promise. but just as the gods broke their promises, so did he.

the twillight sword, named for his victories in battle, moved so gently as he pressed his body closer to your own. he was a dichotomy of sorts, his own personal paradox, with his person splintered into the roughness of his past and the softness of his future. he slipped an arm around your lower back and brought his other arm to rest over your head against the stone behind you, effectively trapping you between himself and a statue of the seven.

even with the close proximity, the blonde moved nearer still, and his pale hair could practically frame your own face.

"this seems rather sacreligious, does it not?" you breathed.

he gave a quick, indifferent glance to the anemo archon's statue pressing against your back. "i won't ask for his forgiveness. if anything, he would have to beg for mine." his words echoed in your ear and you could swear they were laced with poison.

"so you don't worship a god?"

he merely nodded in negation.

"what if i wanted you to worship me?"

"i would."

"you would?"

"yes," he held your body tighter, your gaze more intensely. "for in the crooks of your body, i find my religion."

in a final push against the stone diety, the knight closed the space between your lips; and, though he had never seen the inside of a church, his kiss was like a desperate prayer; fealty poured from his lips and your knees weakened with the taste of it. he kissed you like his life depended on it, like it was the only means by which he could achieve salvation.

his body consumed you—all you could sense was him. his scent tickled your nose; he smelled like sin. his taste flooded your mouth; he tasted like paradise. he was a cursed child of heaven and hell, and you wanted all of him.

diluc r. — "i could start fires with what i feel for you." david ramirez.

the hour hand was parallel and darkness consumed the sky. you didn't normally venture out this late, but you were struggling to sleep and desperately needed something besides laying open-eyed in bed to occupy your time. besides, the latern clutched in your left hand kept your vision dependable and your breathing even. did you really have anything to worry about?

yes. a lot of things, actually.

just after a few peaceful minutes alone, you heard crunching coming from behind, it's volume increasing in intensity as the seconds passed you by. it was a group of hilichurls beginning to trail you with their torches ablaze. you inwardly cursed yourself for your rash decisions and lack of preparedness and began your flee away from your pursuers. your heart beat acclerated with each step you took, the pads of your feet were stained with dirt and battered by tiny, loose branches.

you kept your face mostly forwards, only looking back to track your lead on them. but, as if it were someone's dying wish, your toes rammed into the edge of a rock portruding out from the ground and your face high-fived the earth.

with your unexpected (but not surprising) fall, you found yourself surrounded by a gang of fire-wielding hilichurls, all thirsting for blood. your blood, to be specific.

sighing in defeat, you slid your eyelids close and anticipated your end. or at least, a pain of some kind. but that feeling never came. hesistantly, you blinked your eyes open to find a man dressed in black swinging an enflamed claymore at your foes. with this man's sheer might, you kind of felt sorry for the little creatures, even though they tried to kill you mere moments ago. when the figure finished ridding the area of the hilichurls, the moonlight revealed his features as he turned to face you.

your mouth formed an "o" as you chuckled sheepishly, "um, thank you, diluc."

your relationship with the wine tycoon was...complicated. it could perhaps be best described as lot's of actions left undone and lots of words left unsaid.

his anger was tangible as he half-screamed, "why in teyvat are you out in the middle of the woods so late?"

"i couldn't sleep," your voice was barely audible.

though his anger was suffocating, you saw something else in his features besides fury. was it longing? desire? whatever it was, it looked alien on him.

silence was quick to consume the air between you, awkward glances and tense facial expressions the only communication ensuing. only with this quiet did you realize how close you were to him—so close you could cup his jaw with your palm. eventually, your mouth grew an itch that you needed to scratch. gathering confidence, you finally spoke.

"why are you looking at me like that?" your question was a whisper.

"like what?"

"like there's a flame behind your eyes."

"because i could start fires with what i feel for you." his reply was an oath.

he leaned in, lips touching lips, and all time seemed to stop. no longer did you hear the ticking of the clock, all that remained now was the beating of your heart and his. his kiss was heated in the way that made your toes curl and warm in the way that touched your heart at the same time.

he pulled away for a moment to catch his breath, asking, "and who wants to see the person they love mauled to death in the woods?"

as he brought his lips back to yours, you could feel his tounge slip into your mouth, a gentle yet insistent intrusion, and your body melted into his. you ran your fingers through his crimson hair, silently begging for more.

you were already so close—the pads of his fingers pressing desperately into your back, your legs wrapped around his torso, your scents mixing into a new genre of fragerence—but you wanted more. more, more, more.

itto a. — "his arms became a set of parentheses bracketing the sweetest secret phrase." christina lauren, love and other words

itto reminded you of the time old saying, a bull in a china shop. he was the notoriously clumsy harbinger of misfortune; but, while everyone else thought that to be a deal breaker, you found it to be an endearing part of the "arataki the-one-and-oni itto" package. some of your fondest memories with him were a product of his blundering behavior. one such memory was your first kiss:

waves rocked the wood beneathed your feet. you and itto had been taking a relaxing day trip on the ocean, simply cruising across the waves in each other's company. with the gentle dea breeze caressing your face and the sun's rays warming your skin, it was the most pacific day. until your lover spotted some fish, that is. with the weather as perfect as it was, it was not surprising that the purple-colored fish came out to play, their forms become visible as the neared the sea's surface. itto, his big arms and all, started paddling his palms through the water, thrashing about in an attempt to catch one.

"what in teyvat-" he couldn't see your face, but he could hear the smile in your voice.

"listen, you won't be laughing like that later when i catch you a new pet!"

looking back, he was kind of right—you certainly weren't laughing when this oaf of an oni fell overboard into the water and exclaimed, "help! i can't swim!" despite your shock, you curved your body over the helm of your small, shared boat and attempted to lug himback onboard. you didn't think you could do it, but, albeit arms straining, you managed to fish him out.

despite this feat, you soon realized that you can take an oni out of the water but you can't take the water out of an oni. since his eyes were still lidded even after slapping his face with the force of a thousand suns, you made an emergency decision: positioning yourself over his body, you pressed your lips to his, making your air his air. now, this wasn't as romantic as it sounds—you performed some wild chest compressions immediately afterwards. to your surprise, your rough first-aid skills did the job. itto's lashes slowly parted, revealing those two red eyes you adored so much.

between coughs, your lover exclaimed, "yo, i just had the coolest dream! we we're crusing on a boat and then some fish surfaced the water and then i tried to catch one and then i fell in-" his voice trailed when he saw the pair of humor and concern dancing in your eyes.

"i wasn't dreaming?"

"no."

"i almost drowned?"

"yes."

"you kissed me?"

"it's called CPR, you perv."

"well, could ya' do it again?"

laughing, you folded over the oni, your chest coming to rest on his. hands cupping his cheeks, you pressed a light and playful kiss against his lips. he moved his hands up to your shoulder blades and his arms thus became a set of parenthesis bracketing the sweetest phrase: you. fully trapped in itto's arms, your light pecks grew deeper with each passing second, leaving you breathless when you finally parted.

noticing your dazed expression, he gave you a smug smirk, saying, "told ya' you wouldn't be laughing later."

...you threw him back off the boat.

kaeya a. — "if you are intolerable, let me be the one to tolerate you." andrea gibson, lord of the butterflies.

a knock on the door stirred you from your slumber. flinging the duvet cover off your body, you wobbled towards to the front door of your mondstadt apartment. with a twist of your hand, the wooden entryway creaked open and revealed a pair of estranged brothers. the red-head stood steadily, acting as a pillar for his younger, highly intoxicated yet somehow concious brother.

"would you take him?"

"why would i not?"

you and diluc gently exchanged the fumbling calvary captain, muttering quiet "goodnights" as you went. kaeya's weight shifted onto to your shoulders and you helped maneuver him to a seat at your kitchen table as the older brother took his leave. your fingers held his chin, forcing his face to look at yours. your eyes searched his face, spotting beads of sweat framing his abnormally pale face. knowing he was in need of water, you swiped your index and middle finger through the air, conjuring a stream of water with your hydro vision. you slowly funnelled the adam's ale into his mouth, letting him swallow every drop.

"would you like something to eat? some toast maybe?" you questioned him softly.

he shook his head in negation, but his eyes betrayed him. you knew he wanted something to munch on, so you turned to prepare him some toast; but, it would appear that even his inebriated reflexes were faster than your sober ones. his hands jumped to your waist, holding you in place between his legs. "you don't have to do that. you should go back to bed," he began, his voice hoarse. "i'll be-"

"fine?" you scoffed. "kaeya, you can't lie and expect me to not notice. diluc of all people just dropped you off on my doorstep like a lost kitten. no, you are not fine. yes, i am getting you some food."

"but you shouldn't have to work yourself up over someone like me."

"someone like you?"

"someone self-destructive and sardonic. a glutton, a gimmick. an intolerable individual."

you gave him a tender smile, "well, you must not be too drunk if you can articulate all those fancy words," you pushed the hair out of his eyes before pressing on. "darling, if you are self-destrutive, let me piece you back together. if you are a glutton, let me give you more to take. if you are a gimmick, let me see the real you. if you are intolerable, let me be the one to tolerate you."

holding his stare, your words echoed through the room. you only hoped it had echoed in his mind too.

begrudgingly, kaeya dropped his hands, allowing you to retrieve something from the kitchen behind you. you topped some sourdough with bananas and honey, serving them on a ceramic plate. you sat with him as he had, using your melody to distract him from the voice inside his head. the conversation was a simple as "is the food okay" and "how was your day," but you could see the tension leave his shoulders with every word that left your lips.

with his last bite, his nerves finally calmed. you prayed this peace would never leave him.

-> likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #albedo fluff #childe x reader #childe fluff #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif fluff #diluc x reader #diluc fluff #itto x reader #itto fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic

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lovethetasteofnothing · 11 months

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Hello! If you can, I would like a headcanon of Task 141 with a tiktoker s/o and see them doing a dance, you know, some tiktok trends. Thank you so much! <3

my apologies for this being so late, i haven't touched tiktok for months and have no idea what trends are currently popular

the clock app vs task force 141 | price, ghost, gaz, soap

includes: captain john price; simon "ghost" riley; kyle "gaz" garrick; johnny "soap" mactavish

gn!reader, gender neutral terms of endearment

warnings: nsfw content, mentions of breeding kink (implied), brief smutty descriptions, horny jokes (it's all in price's hcs)

word count: 1k, aprox. 250 words/ character

Captain Price

is so confused every time you start recording, like what are you doing?

you were just laying in his arms and decided to film a cute little tiktok because you wanted to join in the trend with your lovely husband

you looked back at it and you knew you couldn't post it, this man had the most confused face the whole time

"youngsters these days..." before picking your phone out of your hand and demanding cuddles

you tried on multiple occasions to show him tiktoks that you found funny

he just stared blankly, trying to figure out what you found funny at them

but you show him one dad humor tiktok and he's daying laughing??

watches tiktoks over your shoulder while you cuddle him

since he won't do trends with you, you might as well do them alone

so you decided to record a very pg 13 lies tiktok trend in front of him

just to spite him

we can all agree he has a breeding kink, yes? good luck with that mating press, soldier

and because you love him so much and respect his opinion so dearly, you ask him opinions on which tiktoks you should post

doesn't see the point of this but is supportive nonetheless

you use the opposite of what he chooses, sorry pop

until you accidentally stumble across some older thirst traps you recorded

he just stares at you, makes you send them to him

for safe keeping yk

Simon "Ghost" Riley

THIS MAN REFUSES TO USE TIKTOK BUT HE WATCHES REELS

"tiktok is for kids, luv" you just stare at him in disbelief for a minute (in my mind he's like early 30s)

you tried to explain that it's almost the same thing-

pretended not to hear you and went on with his day

but oh it's no longer a kid's app when you started doing the dancing trends

literally watches you doing them from the corner of the room

"you're not posting that, are you?"

he'd probably take your phone and delete it for safety but he doesn't know how to

you also try and make him do couple trends

random stage fright where he just 🕴️and doesn't move at all

confuses you because you have seen him scold a whole group of recruits before and then bark out orders to them with no problem

but you put a little phone with some music on it in front of him and he just error 404s

god forbid you have one good attempt and put this man on the internet

you dragged him into ONE trend and the video went viral

never again, you had to turn off comments

didn't even show him because... i mean we know, you're not feeding his ego any more today

its already so high, he doesn't need to see the step on me daddy comments

he also watches tiktoks over your shoulder, tells you to slow down because you're swiping too fast and he can't read

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

type of person to have cooking videos appear when he's hungry and can't eat (me)

also type of guy who has random facts on his fyp but he actually goes to check if they're accurate

he either sends you 20 tiktoks in five minutes or 3 in two weeks

he actually does send you good tiktoks, i'll give him that

fairly normal feed (for your standards at least)

he'd argue with people in the comments about random misinformation

does cute tiktok trends with you

makes you get all dressed up for them because he wants everyone to know what a cute partner he has

i feel like he'd have a fairly large number of followers just because he's a man in uniform-

you both giggle at the simping in his comments

kisses you while telling you you're the only one who can have him

posts you so so much because he just loves to have little memories with you in his posts

i feel like he does the different outfit trends with you

overdressed bf x overdressed partner energy

knows all of the slang, trends, sounds and references them randomly

they appear on his feed before they do on yours

randomly pulls you aside and uses those "which blank are you" filters

redoes them because he's not happy with his result, also goes into a random analysis as to why it doesn't match him

"it's just a filter, kyle" you tell him because he won't stop until he gets his favorite thing

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

this man right here sends the wackiest tiktoks with no explanation

like you just wake up with 10 tiktoks in five different genres and one of them is a poorly edited 3d animation (iykyk)

and if you ask him he just says it's funny???

also the type of person to find random misinformation about his field of work and send it to you complaining

doesn't last long

he finds another weird video and sends it right after the rant

starts recording randomly while you're talking to him

you don't notice until he shoves the phone in your face and records you mid sentence

he loves to see you doing trends (went wild for American horror show when you did it)

this man learned the dance with you and did it better

biggest fan of you posting thrist traps

there's just something about knowing that other guys are thirsting over you but he's the only one who can have you

helps you pick the best one to post and reads the comments with you

makes you post a couple tiktok right after, his account tagged and everything

has the weirdest profile pic and username

that plank/pushup training filter that was trending a while ago?

he did it like five times to impress you, makes you watch each one and give him your opinions

doesn't post anything, lets you do the bragging

he and gaz stole your phone once and recorded like 20 tiktoks with the same sound

all of them were showing how they almost burned you guys' kitchen down

they were used as proof against them

divider cred: @/cafekitsune

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sonneillonv · 5 months

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@reucrion and @sonneillonv are proud to launch our Patreon! We are working on the first of our Tourist's Guide projects, which will be supplements exploring different realms in the gaming multiverse. Join to get project updates, free content, assets, and merch reviews, as well as access to a brand new serial by Sonneillon V!

Descent Into Avernus Do you enjoy Lets Plays? Would you like to explore the story behind game modules without actually having to play through them? Or maybe you don't have a consistent D&D group, but you still want a chance to experience the twists and turns of established in-universe stories. As a special bonus, even the lowest subscription tier can enjoy a serialized fic based on the popular D&D 5e Module "Descent Into Avernus", updated 2x monthly. Read a sample below!

(Refuge, Undersigil)

The deep, bass pounding of the drums shook the walls and floor. Ceiling too, if the intermittent rain of mortar was any indication. It rattled Hyx's organs, demanded his heart take on the beat, which was exactly how he liked it. The orcs in The Well were doing something really interesting with carefully pitched industrial grinding noises they made with rusted machine parts, chanting in dissonant harmony with the groaning cry of the war horn their tattooed tanarukk lead was blowing.

The other patrons seemed to like it as much as he did, crashing their bodies together on the cracked, silt-stained dance floor and crowding around the bar, a collection of salvage lashed together with hemp cord and nails, propped against a stack of re-used barrels. The drinks were swill, clouded with sediment, but they flowed fast and free, and they were strong enough to ignore the taste most of the time. Hyx was good with the trade - no one in The Refuge would expect better - but he wasn't a noob. He was alternating. The thirst that propelled him from the crowd, weaving between bodies in the wild strobe of colored magical light, demanded water.

Fiends were immune or resistant to a lot of things that hurt mortals, but suffering for one's excesses was half the purpose of hell, so hangovers weren't on the list.

The water was warm and the dented tin mug made it taste metallic, but it was clean enough. He guzzled it and considered stepping outside for a piss, extracting himself from the bar crowd and shifting toward the entrance so he could puff his feathers and get some air on his skin. As a result, he was standing in easy view when a three-tailed celestial fox demon with long, white hair pushed past the crowd at the door. Hyx ground his teeth on a sigh and made a token effort to look for an escape route, but he wasn't fast enough.

Siblings were another form of suffering fiends were allowed, nay, encouraged to experience.

Xien strode in his direction, eyes burning white in the darkness between strobes. His expression was anger, exasperation, concern... different colors highlighted different emotions. It would have been fascinating if Hyx hadn't been busy bracing for impact.

He opened with, "It's 2am," and Hyx scoffed because he never understood why normies bothered pointing that out to people like him. If he was out partying until 2am, it was clearly because he didn't give two shits.

"I know," he shouted over the music, favoring his brother with a toothy smile. "You're just in time - party just hit its stride!"

Exasperation took center stage. Xien knew when he was being annoying on purpose. "We have an early check-out."

"I'll sleep on the trip."

"You'll be hungover and puking on the trip," Xien shot back. "Come back to the inn and get it out of your system so I don't have to smell it all day."

Hyx grinned. "You're not going to fix it? Disrespectful. Am I not your favorite anymore?" He hooked an arm around Xien-di's neck and bonked their horns together clumsily, swaying a little. "Didi, breaking my heart. Respect your elders."

"Gege," Xien said as patiently as he could while shouting to be heard, "Don't just assume I'll restore you if you get excessively fucked up. That kind of spell takes effort, actually. Magic isn’t free."

"Of course it's not." He rolled his eyes and walked Xien over to a wall near the exit where it was a little easier to hear. "So what do you want?"

"You've had fun, you've gotten drunk, probably high. It's a good night, right?” Xien was clearly doing his best to sound reasonable. “So wrap it up, come back to the inn now, and when you start feeling like shit I'll restore you... as long as you go to bed, STAY in bed, and let ME sleep until you actually need help."

"You bargain like a fucking devil," Hyx sighed, but he couldn't help a lopsided smile.

"I bargain like I have two older brothers," Xien tossed back. "Agreed?"

He snorted and tugged one of A-Xien’s fluffy ears. "The little princess of Seven Springs Mountain doesn't get to talk. You should have grown up at Broken Stone, THEN you could bitch about siblings." But he extended his hand with an air of great affront, prepared to trade a few more hours of fun for a get-out-of-hangover-free card.

Then the floor dropped out from under them.

x-x-x

You see, once upon a time, there was a cistern.

In the beginning, there wasn't anything very remarkable about it. It was built of stone and rusting metal, a reservoir for rainwater and run-off from the streets above. It was dark and quiet and alone, except for the ever-growing collection of trash it accumulated as the water ebbed and flowed through it. A peaceful, forgotten place that caused no problems and earned no accolades. Well-behaved cisterns seldom make history.

One day, a creature came to dwell in its collected waters. Slimy and seditious, with grasping tentacles and rings of saw-like teeth, it nestled into the darkness under the streets and made its home there. It attracted no attention and bothered no one, because its focus was elsewhere - an entirely different world, far from the floating city that contained it, a true planet with mountains and seas and a molten core that spun it around its sun. In that world, the creature had enemies and it lusted for their destruction, plotting daily, weaving spells and wearing down the barriers between itself and its prize. After many years of effort, it made a tunnel that would allow it to prey on the people it hungered for and retreat back to its nest from any resistance, escaping across the worlds, across the planes, where no one would reach it. It thought itself very clever for this.

Unfortunately, monstrous behavior indicates the presence of a monster, and the presence of a monster attracts adventurers. The greatest plague in all the realms, relentlessly nosey do-gooders, incapable of minding their own business... the whole phenomenon of adventuring parties is roundly condemned by would-be tyrants everywhere. And sometimes they are versed in magic, though the creature would have considered them clumsy as children compared to itself, limited in their minds, incapable of even rudimentary telepathy and limited to communicating via disgusting sounds they made with their actual MOUTHS. They hammered at the Weave like a child hammers at a toy lute, but they hit the right notes and the creature found itself cut off from its retreat.

All its plans collapsed quickly after that.

But even as its cartilaginous mouth with its rings of serrated teeth was mounted, hung in the halls of its killers as a trophy, the tunnel remained. With no living creature to maintain it, it anchored itself to those teeth, yawning wide enough to swallow a man whole. Then it went to sleep.

Time passed.

The forgotten cistern was truly forgotten. The waterworks of the floating city changed: new cisterns were dug and old, crumbling ones closed off. All paths leading to our subject were closed, and over time the water drained away and left only the refuse.

Decades later, someone exploring the depths of the floating city broke through a crumbling wall and found a vast space full of gently-rotting trash. Then another wall was broken through, and another, as the desperate dwellers in the dark searched for the resources to prolong their miserable lives. The former cistern became a place where the poor and suffering gathered. They dug for valuables, traded them, and eventually dumped their own trash so the next seeker could rifle through it.

The large, round hole in the ceiling didn't concern any of them. No one had reason to explore it, and even if they had, the tunnel was sleeping.

Because it was hidden and secure, the cistern became a place to trade not only garbage, but also information. Soon there was a goblin spit-roasting rats for barter. Then an enterprising wight began rolling barrels of his hobby wine down on alternate days and making deals for a stiff drink.

They called it Refuse at first, painting the letters over the entrances in used whitewash. Then, after a raid on Undersigil, someone messily painted over the 's' with a mismatched 'g' and it became Refuge. Availability of food and alcohol expanded. Locals gathered to make music together in street-corner bands, attracting others. Regular vendors pooled resources to have magic lights installed. Foot traffic swelled. Refuge became a place, not just to find things, but to lose them - inhibitions, memories, responsibilities, cares. It was elysium. As long as you kept the peace, nobody cared who you were. Living refuse, drifting into the cistern and settling in to stay.

Still, the tunnel slept.

Worlds away, there was a catastrophe.

As it happens, the creature that had once resided in the cistern died not far from a tavern called Two Black Antlers, and its jaw was now displayed there amidst the remains of a dozen other monsters as an adventuring trophy. That tavern and its surroundings were being pulled across planar boundaries. Spikes were driven deep into the earth, chains rattling from Faerun to Avernus, reeling and ratcheting an entire city down to Hell. Dragged with it, the tunnel awoke screaming in the language of time and space and magic. It twisted, tearing, shrieking as the delicate threads of sympathy began to snap. But in the moment before it shattered forever, the tunnel opened and a portal bloomed between that old, crumbling cistern and a tavern sinking into Avernus. The ancient mortar gave - floors, ceiling, and walls all shattered. Screaming patrons and debris spun through the hole between worlds as if the dead aboleth itself exhaled them into Avernus, a last predatory act.

Then the portal shattered. The connection between planes dissolved into the nothingness between, and the place where the cistern had been was deathly quiet.

Casualty reports would change continually over the next few weeks as investigators in Faerun tried to tally the number of missing from the once-resplendent city of Elturel. Eventually the figure would crest 15,000.

The 73 victims from Undersigil went unmarked. No one even knew to look for them.

Like the rain trickling down the culverts of Sigil, they had disappeared into the dark.

#patreon #descent into avernus #d&d 5th edition #kageshima publishing house #fiction

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unohanadaydreams · 3 years

Text

Don’t ask me why I made this, just know that I’m right and this is not just a Headcanon post but real. It’s not me having brain worms haha that would be insane. Honestly I just started thinking about how the hell arc introducing Seireitei approved social media would be such a mistake but god would it be fun to watch.

The Current Captains On Social Media

Shunsui Kyoraku - Failed erotic novel author turned romance/erotic novel reviewer. The fan base for his work is very small compared to his actual following. There is some divide in his followers—those who follow for his life updates and those who want to hear him talk at length about his latest read. Funnily enough, his quick, messy posts usually paired with scenery or a selfie are his most popular writing, often hailed as snippets of his poetic soul. Lots of people want to give him a hug.

Soi Fon - Adamant privacy and safety poster. Took to code and anti-virus technology well, much to Mayuri’s annoyance. Posts tips and tricks that read more like demands. Is known for her bitchy responses when followers @ her with their progress that are eaten up gratefully. Her advice is punctuated by posts admiring athletic women and these women make up the bulk of who she follows. She seems to admire runners and lifters the most. Her threatening posts when people hit on her too hard/with too many notes to back them up are turned into copypastas.

Rose Otoribashi - Has one of the larger followings thanks to his nostalgic visuals as well as his dedication to frequently posting new music. He has a personality that’s easily digestible when viewed through snippets. The fact that his passion is music and his job is news/editing also do him a lot of favors. He loves doing live streams and encourages his followers to perform for & with him.

Isane Kotetsu - Her growth being captured on social media not just as a captain but as a person has given her a fan base that feels extremely protective of her. She’s less known for what content she brings and more for her personality. Any creative content she posts is likely to start trending. Especially her ‘peaceful morning’ videos and reflective writing. She’s one of the more interactive posters, beloved for her encouraging responses.

Shinji Hirako - As a more private person, he doesn’t have much of a following and his most popular posts are candid moments posted by others. Lisa is a large reason people consider him endearing in anyway. Definitely the kind of person who is either considered cringe or cool with little in between. The kind of guy who asks what he should do with his hair and then goes with an option that wasn’t listed.

Byakuya Kuchiki - Has an extremely scheduled and curated presence on any site he’s on, but is nonetheless adored. He used to ask Renji and Akon for advice on how to handle some of the more online behavior (like being @ed by women who photoshop them as their date to events or being asked how many notes a date would cost) but stopped quickly. Turns out saying something is flattering leads to more of that behavior. Any selfie he posts is edited and reposted into oblivion until it’s thousands of people’s pfp.

Tetsuzaemon Iba - Despite him being one of the most well rounded captains personality wise, he gets put onto block lists the most for his dedication to concepts of manliness, which are easy concepts to feed to the social media outrage machine. Women’s Association vs Men’s Association is a popular meme where the former is something sensible and the latter is something ineffective/archaic. That being said, he’s also known as a ‘problematic fav’ and people will often post memes about abandoning their feminism for a few minutes to like his selfies and training videos.

Lisa Yadomaru - Another captain with a large love and hate following. Often picked apart for interacting with porn/hentai accounts, thirsting after women openly, and posting pictures alluding to her sexual escapades. Despite her account being regular food for the outrage machine, she doesn’t seem to care or pay attention to it and is forever horny on Main. She posts a lot of candid photos/videos of her friends. Recommends the best fucked up fiction.

Kensei Muguruma - Of course he does cooking videos, but what really does well are his cooking challenges. He forces his lieutenant, friends, and colleagues to compete with him on making a better dish on a time limit and often with other handicaps. Usually wins. His bloopers get a ton of mileage when he posts them. His merch is constantly sold out. People often dress up as him for Halloween/conventions, usually with foam or blow up arms/abs.

Toshiro Hitsugaya - Another captain with a huge following due to him approaching social media with his tireless work ethic. His ice sculptures are very popular and his pop-up galleries sell out in hours. Is actually a huge fan of ‘cozy’ games and is known for having beautiful towns/farms/ect that showcase his attention to detail. He does events in Minecraft sometimes, where he guides people through building large scale projects (and also feels like he’s making friends but that’s left entirely unsaid). A bit harsh, but beloved.

Kenpachi Zaraki - People question if it’s really his account because it’s so random at times, but he posts videos of him mowing down his subordinates during training so it has to be. The odd content includes engaging with easy recipes & activities for toddlers and increasingly complicated punk hairstyles that he really does try out. He also posts weekly, asking for people to volunteer and fight him. The human world especially loves this and he gets a lot of responses. He tries to set up times to fight them but Nanao threatens to delete his accounts and put him on suspension if he attempts to follow through. He posts a lot of post-battle pictures and humans gobble it up. “Just fought *insert ridiculous thing here*” is a huge meme.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi - He is constantly making new accounts and circumventing bans for posting links to his old lab work, that often involves heinous amounts of gore. Actually does have a following, often from those within his own division, those hoping to be in his division, or humans who see him as edgy and a little bit off his rocker, which they think is cool. He posts pictures of himself whenever he switches up his look. And posts Nemuri a lot with unhinged captains about how she’s going to outpace even the head captain and no one could make someone as special & smart as her. Just comes off as a really passionate dad. Plenty of people are convinced he’s a creepy pasta project ran by a dude with a daughter.

Rukia Kuchiki - Like Isane, she’s really loved for who she is rather than creative content. Even her attempts at being stern and ‘captain-like’ are fawned over. She has a line of children’s books, stickers, and notebooks with her cute drawings. Her most popular set was when her daughter contributed. The human world is convinced Renji is her house husband and her life is generally seen as all around ‘goals’. Her posts are riddled with mistakes and very sporadic; she’s posted accidental live streams while she did paperwork and they went viral. She posts tons of candids of her subordinates and family but they are usually blurry or actually videos.

#bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #shunsui kyoraku #soi fon #rose otoribashi #isane kotetsu #shinji hirako #byakuya kuchiki #tetsuzaemon iba #lisa yadomaru #kensei muguruma #toshiro hitsugaya #kenpachi zaraki #mayuri kurotsuchi #rukia kuchiki #Mayuri having conspiracy videos dedicated to him actually fuels me

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queenof-fiction · 4 years

Text

Now Until Forever (Carlisle X Reader)

Prompt: “I’m not going to leave you” “I’m going to protect you”

Words: 1188

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Carlisle X Reader

You had just been turned into a vampire. Naturally being a newborn you had an uncontrollable thirst. You hadn’t even met the one who turned you. All they did was change you and left you there in the middle of some alley way in the outskirts of town screaming at the white hot pain that took over your whole entire body. You started drinking every human that came across your path, until Carlisle found you.

That was a few months ago now you are able to control your thirst and are on a “vegetarian” diet. Being brought in by the Cullen's was probably the best thing that’s happened to you so far. You didn’t have a bad life previously, but now that you found what Carlisle described as your mate. Ironically enough though Carlisle was your mate.

There was this weird force that pulled you two together that you couldn’t describe. He knew you were coming since the moment you were turned in that empty alley. Alice, one of his adoptive daughters, saw you coming from the very beginning. You were still, however, trying to get used to Edward’s mind reading. Everyone seemed to like you. Emmett said that Rosalie will grow on you eventually.

You were all just walking back to the house after hunting when Alice stopped in her tracks. Jasper was at her side immediately.

“It’s the Volturi.” She whispered. You could see the fear in her eyes.

Carlisle glanced over at you and pulled you closer to him. “What do they want?” He asked.

“They found out about Y/N.” Edward answered for Alice. “They know about the killings.”

“What are they going to do?” You asked nervously.

“With the Volturi there’s no telling. However, they may have mercy since you have chosen to be on a strictly animal diet. Being Carlisle’s mate is also going to give you a better chance.” Jasper explained in his thick southern accent.

Everyone started to walk back towards the house, but Carlisle pulled you back so you could talk alone. “Everything's going to be alright.” he explained, holding on to your upper arms. You nodded not being to push back the feeling that your immortal life might end before you even had a chance to live it.

You sadly looked up at him, “Carlisle, what if they decide that they are better off ending me?”

“I’m going to protect you.” He whispered, pulling you into his arms.

“Maybe I should leave. I could run. I’ll get a head start and hide away for a while. Maybe I’ll come back in a hundred years or so. You would all be safer without me.” You rambled on anxiously.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He explained looking baffled that you’d even suggest that. “I wouldn’t leave you. I’m here to protect you. We all are. Alice will show the Volturi what she saw. They will understand that you don’t want to harm others.”

“What if they don’t care?” You asked.

“Then we will fight. I’m not going to lose you. I just found you. I’ve been looking for you for hundreds of years. I finally found you and I’m not going to let them take you away. Not now. Not ever.” He gently kissed the side of your head.

Once you guys walked into the house Alice ran up to you both. “Carlisle, they will be here tomorrow.”

“That soon!” You gasped. Carlisle pulled you tightly to him.

“We’ll be ready.” He explained. Everyone went out to get ready for the next day, while you and Carlisle waited in the house. As he was working at his desk you decided to browse the hundred of books on his books shelves.

You pulled out one of the really old books he had and it was a book written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Flipping through the pages you noticed that F. Scott Fitzgerald himself had signed the book. “Carlisle, How did you manage to get a signed addition?” You asked.

Carlisle immediately appeared at your side. “By asking him to sign it.” He laughed wrapping his arms around you from behind

“I didn’t think that was really that popular to autograph books back then?”

“Well typically it wasn’t but I decided that if i’m going to be around for a really long time I must as well have some really cool stories. Check this one out.” He said grabbing another old book off the shelf. “This one was signed by Emily Dickinson.” You were absolutely in awe.

You turned to face him. “Who was your favorite person to meet?” You asked.

“You.” He smiled pressing his lips to yours.

***

You stood alongside the Cullen's waiting for the Volturi to arrive. You were nervous to say the least. Jasper is helping you stay calm with his ability to change hormones. It probably would have worked better if you were still human though.

“They are here.” Edward explained. You looked ahead and watched as the Volturi got closer.

“Aro,” Carlisle greeted as the group got close.

“Ahh, Carlisle.” Aro announced. “I see you found yourself a mate.” he slowly glided over the word mate.

“This is Y/N. They will tell you anything you want to know.” He explained sliding an arm around you.

“May I?” Aro asked, holding his hand out. You glanced up at Carlisle who nodded. You gave Aro your hand. A few seconds later he dropped it. “I see.”

“Carlisle, as you know having them around could cause a lot of trouble.” He said while maintaining eye contact with you.

“They will cause no harm.” Carlisle assured.

“I’m sure they won’t. I can’t be positive though. How do I know they won’t turn on you.” He said glancing at the younger girl next to him.

“Aro, don’t. You’ve seen it for yourself. They would never hurt anyone.”

“Jane.” Aro acknowledged the young blonde haired girl.

“Aro. Don’t.” Carlisle warned. Before you could figure out what was going on you fell to the ground. Everything inside you felt like it turned to acid. It was worse than being turned.

“Aro. Enough.” Carlisle demanded. You felt your body ease. The pain subsided. You slowly stood up again. Carlisle pushed you behind him. “I will take full responsibility. I know they would not hurt anyone and so do you.”

Aro stared at you and then looked back up to Carlisle.

“I can prove it.” Alice spoke up from behind. Aro eyes lit up.

“Ahhhhh, Sweet Alice.” He basically cooed. “Come, Come.”

Alice walked forward and reached her hand out for Aro to take. Seconds later Aro dropped her hand and looked back at you.

“Very well then.” He nodded. “You can stay for now. We will however be watching you.” He turned to the rest of his group and lifted his hands in the air. Everyone turned and came back from where they came from.

Carlisle turned to look at you. Before he could say anything you pulled his lips to yours. “Now for the rest of forever.” You smiled. “I couldn’t agree more,” He laughed, pulling your lips back to his.

#carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle imagines #carlisle x reader #carlise cullen #twilight carlisle #Carlisle #the twilight saga #twilight cullens #twilight imagines #twilight oneshot #twilight #twilight imagine #edward cullen #alice cullen #Emmett Cullen #the cullens #cullen imagines #the cullen family imagines

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

Note

Omg can I please have a fic where Quinn (possibly backed by all of SMH) absolutely throws down N*te. And then maybe comforts a Sad Nando bc nando is Soft and needles all the cuddles and support

Okay, this has been in popular demand for quite some time now. It may be 1:31 AM, but I’m counting this as a little birthday present for Nando.

Set during Quinn’s summer in Arizona. :D

One of the first steps of taking your boyfriend home for the summer is showing him around.

For the past six days, that’s what Nando has taken it upon himself to do. He can’t believe, actually, that he and Quinn have been home from school for an entire week already— well, a week tomorrow, but still— and yet here they are, arrived at the last day of Nando’s extensive tour of the Phoenix metro area. They’ve spaced it out— something one day, something another— like dinner at Tio’s one night, an afternoon meeting his best friends from home, showing Quinn his childhood rink.

He’s satisfied with his own performance as a tour guide, but tomorrow means his first shift at Tio’s restaurant, which means that summer job season is really beginning. Which, like, obviously he and Quinn can still hang out— they’re living under the same roof; and if it’s not Mama or one of the girls, Quinn is the first person he sees every morning. It’s just that once he has a summer job schedule, their days won’t be entirely their own anymore.

For Quinn, he knows, that might be a little weird, at least for these first three weeks until Gabi and Rosa get out of school. Once they’re done, the summer theatre stuff starts up, and Quinn is getting paid to do that, so he’ll have something to do.

In the meantime, though, Nando knows he brought things with him. Like his knitting stuff. And a few books. And his camera.

And until tomorrow, the time is still theirs.

“Okay, my love,” Quinn says, at the kitchen table, over his toast and eggs. The morning is all theirs; Mama is at work, so once they got the twins out the door and onto the bus, Nando made him breakfast. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Nando grins at him. “Oh, you’re curious?”

He shrugs. “In a way.” He’s wearing a baggy KMH shirt tucked into his pajama bottoms, and he hasn’t even done his hair yet. Nando lives for seeing him like this— his obsessively proper boyfriend, who won’t be caught dead in jeans outside of a party, in his pajamas in his family’s kitchen.

It has been six days, and having Quinn at home has given him enough fuel for domestic daydreaming to last a lifetime.

It’s going to be a good summer.

“Well, I saved a good thing for last,” Nando tells him, reaching for his hand across the table. “We’re going to the beach.”

Quinn raises his eyebrows, skeptical. “In Arizona.”

“Yes,” he chirps back, because two can play at this game. “I’m driving you eight hours south to the ocean. Do you have your passport?” Quinn laughs a little, and he adds, “No, baby, the beach by the river. There’s a little park there. We can sit by the water in the sun.”

“Ooh.” Quinn smiles. “That sounds lovely.”

“But first,” he adds, squeezing his hand. “I’m taking you to my favorite Starbucks.”

Quinn cocks his head, with amusement in his smile now. “You have a favorite Starbucks?”

“You don’t have a favorite Starbucks?” he replies.

“I…” He trails off a little. “I can’t say I do, actually.”

“Well, I’ll educate you.” He brings his hand to his face, kisses it, and says, “Maybe this one will become your favorite.”

Quinn’s smile is the cutest shit he has ever seen. “Maybe so.”

In the truck, on the way there, Quinn is watching out the window. “So why is it your favorite?”

“Huh?”

“The Starbucks.” He looks to him across the console. “Why is it your favorite?”

“Oh.” Nando grins. “Well, okay. It’s, like, classic Arizona architecture, and—”

“Wait, you like it because of the architecture?” Quinn chuckles a little. “Are you Ben?”

“Jesus, baby, are you chirping me?” Nando jostles his arm, and Quinn laughs. “You’re a regular KMH member. I’m impressed.”

Quinn shrugs. “I suppose you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

“Wow.” Nando loves his boyfriend. “I’m honored. But FYI, I was only starting with the reasons I liked it.”

“Okay, continue, then.”

“Okay, so it has a lot of really nice outdoor seating.” Nando pauses. “It’s, like, near a shopping center, but it’s separate from the rest of the stores, so it’s not just some ugly spot. They always have the good cake pops, and plus, the manager is cool. They have blue hair and they wear a bunch of pride pins on their apron.”

“Okay.” Quinn nods, as Nando watches him process. Or at least sort of watches him, because he is, technically, still driving a vehicle, cute as the boy in the passenger’s seat may be. “That does sound like a good Starbucks.” He pauses. “What do you mean by the good cake pops?”

“Lemon ones,” he replies. “And chocolate. And, during Pride month, rainbow.”

“Oh my goodness.” Quinn closes his eyes, like he’s having a moment. “Now I’m craving a cake pop.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re on our way there,” Nando replies, and he laughs.

It only takes a few more minutes to arrive. The parking lot is sort of crowded, but it doesn’t look like a mob scene, which is nice. Nando sees an empty table for two under a palm tree on the patio that has their name on it.

“Here we are,” he remarks, parking the truck across the lot from the door. “Our cake pops await.”

Quinn puts on his sunglasses. Their lenses are rose-gold and circular, and he looks criminally adorable in them. And also kind of super hot. That’s the thing about Quinn. He’s the cutest thing in the world and he’s also the source of literally all of Nando’s thirst. And he can turn on a dime. “I’m ready,” he tells him, combing back his hair. Already, with the past week in the sun, it’s gone a little lighter blond on the top. “I’ll have you know, my expectations are extremely high.”

“Oh, this won’t disappoint you,” Nando assures him. “I promise.”

They walk hand-in-hand across the parking lot, and Nando grabs the door for him. Inside is sweet air-conditioned bliss, and it smells like fresh-roasted coffee beans and the bakery case. Nando hasn’t been in here since Christmas break, and it’s been too long.

There’s a small line, but it won’t take more than a few minutes to get to the register. He tries to see who’s working, in case it’s Shai, but he can’t get a good look at the cashier, and there’s no sign of their blue mohawk among the baristas making the drinks.

Shai is actually, like, thirty, and possibly married, but they memorized his drink order in high school and always complimented him on his pride shirts, so they’re one of those older queer people Nando has just imprinted on. And, okay, yeah. He was totally excited to bring his boyfriend in here to meet them. It’s the little things.

Going around town with Quinn is like showing him off, and he has never been happier.

As they get in line, Quinn wraps his hand around his elbow, leaning into him. “It smells good in here,” he hums, with his head against his shoulder.

“I told you,” Nando replies, kissing his temple. “This is a magical place.”

He checks his phone, briefly, while they wait in line; he hasn’t actually looked at it since he woke up this morning. He has a few Snapchats in the cricket group chat, plus one from Nursey (he and Dex just got engaged, which, !!!!!!), and a separate text from Rhodey (it looks like he sent him a TikTok; Rhodey is obsessed with TikTok). He opens the cricket group, turns his front camera on, and snaps a selfie. Quinn is smiling with his cheek against his shoulder, and he himself looks like a little bit of a meme, but Quinn looks cute, so he saves it before he types the caption (coffee run y’all want anything) and sends it through.

In exactly twenty seconds, Rhodey replies. It’s a picture of himself in his work uniform— he delivers pizzas in Providence— and he’s flashing a peace sign at the camera. His hair is in a pink, blue, and yellow striped scrunchie. ya get me an americano. also yall are gay

Quinn snickers. “Well, I would sure hope so, Ben.”

Nando pockets his phone and hooks his arm around his neck. “Super gay.”

Quinn leans into his shoulder. “Mm.” He nods. “The gayest.”

They move forward a spot in line, then another. In fact, they move forward three entire spots without incident. Quinn is humming some showtune— it’s from Spring Awakening; he recognizes it— and Nando is keeping his eyes peeled for Shai, or at least someone he knows. Look at me! I’m in love and I’m happy.

But then God says, be careful what you wish for.

Because as they move into the spot where they’re up next to order, he catches the sound of the cashier’s voice. “... and can I get a name for the order?”

All of the life leaves Nando’s body.

“Holly? Great.” The voice is nasally, and a little artificially cheerful. He hasn’t heard it— outside of a few drunk voicemails— in over two years, but it evokes a visceral reaction in him. He feels sick, all of a sudden. “That’ll be right up.”

He must be tense all of a sudden, because Quinn peers up at him. “Sebastián?” he asks, and what a difference between two voices. “Are you alright?”

He tries to take a deep breath. “I, um.” He pauses. “I think we have to leave.”

“Next customer, please?”

“Leave?” Quinn squints. “But we’re next!”

The people in front of them step to the side counter, and Nando sputters too long. “We, uh—”

But when the way is clear, it’s too late. “Sebby!”

Nando wants to die.

“Holy shit!” Nate has a different haircut, and a Starbucks apron, but otherwise he’s the same— the same pasty pale skin, the same bony stature, the same face so easily twisted into a scowl. Right now, though, he’s smiling, which, honestly, is an expression that looks alien on him, based on Nando’s memory. “You didn’t tell me you were home from school!”

What he wants to say is, Nate, why the fuck would I tell you I was home from school, but what he does say is, “Uh, hi.”

He is going to cringe himself to death. He’s been home for no less than six days, and he is already running into his ex with his boyfriend.

When did he start working here?

“It’s been forever!” As Nate keeps on this weirdly cordial tangent, Nando feels Quinn still next to him. Quinn knows vaguely what Nate looks like, but what he knows better is the way he used to act, and the fact that he used to call him Sebby. Also, he’s wearing a nametag. And Nando feels as stiff as a board. “How’ve you been?”

Very carefully, Quinn unwinds his arm from his, and takes a firm, obvious grip on his hand.

“Jeez, I keep trying to reach out to you,” Nate continues, like they’re old friends running into each other, and not exes with a toxic history. “We really should catch up sometime, now that you’re in town.”

Nando takes a long breath, like it’ll fix the tension in his chest. He squeezes at Quinn’s hand, which helps a little. Quinn leads when they step up to the counter, and he inhales like he wants to order, but Nate is still fucking going. “Who’s your friend?” he asks.

“Boyfriend,” Quinn blurts, in his I’m pissed and I mean business voice, which, thank God for this boy. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Nate raises his eyebrows a little, looking at Quinn like he’s a five-year-old having a tantrum. “Oh,” he says, shrugging. “My bad. Although, I should’ve known.” Nate’s eyes dart to him for a second, and Nando wants to scrub himself clean of that gaze. “He tends to go for the little guys,” Nate continues, to Quinn, gesturing between the two of them like he’s comparing their heights. Then he shrugs again. “Gotta balance it out, y’know?”

Nando’s stomach turns. It stings, so much, and as soon as this is out of Nate’s mouth he feels Quinn squeeze his hand so hard it’s like he intends to break bones. He squeezes right back, and God, he knows it’s cruel and unnecessary and shouldn’t bother him, and it’s been almost three fucking years since he had to deal with Nate, but it still hurts. It hurts just as much as every comment like that did from him. It sends him back to memories of hating and second-guessing himself, and he just. He feels so fucking humiliated.

Quinn takes a very long breath, his eyes on Nate, while he digests this, and then he says, “Can I get a peach green tea, please.” He pauses, still squeezing the circulation out of his hand, and it is the only thing keeping Nando from tearing up. Which is pathetic. But he’s just. It hurts. “And he’ll have a—”

“Mocha frappe. Yeah. I know.” Nate chuckles a little, already grabbing a cup. “Extra whip, right?”

Quinn bristles, face flushing, and finally, Nando finds his voice. “Actually,” he says, “no.” Because even though that was what he was going to order, he doesn’t want to give Nate the satisfaction of thinking he still knows him that well. His Starbucks order may be the same, but there’s so much about him that’s changed since Nate knew him. So much about him that’s better now. Without him. He orders his second favorite. “An iced vanilla latte.” And then, because even though he really doesn’t feel like being polite to him, he feels like Mama might manifest in this Starbucks and kick his ass if he doesn’t say it, he adds, “Please.”

“Hm, my mistake,” Nate says, with a shrug, as he’s writing on the two cups. “I guess you’re a new man, Sebby. We really should catch up.” Quinn’s death grip intensifies, because he knows how much Nando cannot stand being called that. He brings his other hand back to wrap around his elbow, too, like he’s being protective, and Nando has never been more grateful for him.

“Anyway, that’ll be right up.” Nate looks so unbothered, just the way he always did, years ago, when he’d make a comment that left Nando’s self-esteem reeling for days afterward. “I guess I don’t really need your name for the order, huh?”

He’s writing on the cup, and Nando can’t see— or just doesn’t want to— but Quinn must be able to, because he says, “His name is Sebastián.”

Nate raises his eyebrows. “Ooh, feisty.” And of course Quinn sounds mad— but Nate making fun of him will do nothing but add more fuel to the fire. Nate looks to him, past Quinn entirely, and adds, “Does he speak for you all the time like this, or—?”

Nando wants to melt into the floor. “Just give us our total, Nate,” he says, because the faster they can get out of here, the better. Quinn is bristling next to him, but stays quiet.

Nate sighs, shrugs a little, and punches into the cash register. “If you say so,” he says, then announces, “6.23.”

And he thinks that’s going to be the end, but then, as he’s handing over his card, Nate keeps fucking talking. “Oh!” he says, still all faux-fake. “Sebby, you should take him to the lake. Remember, when we’d go down there in high school?”

Quinn’s grip on him tightens. This transaction cannot process fast enough. “We had a lot of fun,” Nate says, like he’s reminiscing. “Always did. It’s a shame; I feel like we never really had closure.”

Finally, finally, after what feels like a million years, he hands his card back, and Nando pockets it in a hurry. “C’mon,” he says to Quinn, because he cannot stand here for one more second, and as they walk away, Nate calls after them.

“Hey, give me a shout sometime!” He’s doing the fake-smile thing again. “We should really hang out, now that you’re in town again.”

Nando squeezes his eyes shut and takes a tight breath; he didn’t realize it before, but it’s hard to breathe. He feels sick and humiliated and awful, and when they’re far enough away to be out of earshot, he looks to Quinn and whispers, “Baby, I am so sorry.”

Quinn is surprisingly calm, at least in comparison to his clear irritation at the register. He shakes his head and rubs his arm with the free hand that’s not holding his. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I just—” He wants to melt. “I had no idea he started working here; I haven’t even seen him since before freshman year, and it just— like, it figures, right—”

“Sebastián,” Quinn says, and his even voice pulls Nando out of his head. “I’m going to get our drinks, and then we can get out of here, okay?”

Nando lets all his breath out at once, then nods. “I— yeah. Okay. That’s— perfect. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Do not be sorry.” Quinn rises on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. “None of that was your fault.”

Quinn seems surprisingly collected for someone who was just ignored and insulted a minute ago, and Nando has this feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’s planning something, some kind of revenge— but what could he do, with Nate just working?

They station themselves against the wall by the pick-up counter, and it isn’t lost on Nando how touchy Quinn is being— not that they’d hold back in public for any reason in general, but he’s definitely going the extra mile right now, rubbing the inside of his elbow and leaning his head on his shoulder and holding his hand all at once. Not only is the touch grounding; Nando is also fully aware that Quinn is trying to rub it in Nate’s face should he glance over from his spot behind the counter.

Which, good. Let him fucking stare if he wants to. Nando hasn’t felt that humiliated in a long time.

And he hates that he let it hurt him, that one stupid comment— but it was such a reminder of worse times, times when he’d have to process things like that from the person who was supposed to be his partner all the time, and it was just. It was always hard, and it was always awful, and being with Quinn has helped him work so much on all of that. Quinn taught him, so early on, that he deserved better. Everything with Quinn is better.

He just focuses on holding Quinn’s hand for a minute, until Nate puts their drinks out at the pick-up counter. “Stay here, honey,” Quinn tells him, squeezing his hand before he unwinds his fingers from it. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Nando replies, and watches him go.

Quinn squares his shoulders, takes a short breath, and walks to the counter. Nando is suddenly very aware that something might be about to happen. He leans against the wall and listens in, as he watches Quinn take the two drinks from across the counter.

He’s right. Quinn looks Nate dead in the eye and says, “Hi, could I just remind you of something?”

Oh my God. Nando widens his eyes. Is Quinn about to chew him out?

Nate says nothing, but looks unamused, and Quinn continues. “You broke up with him,” Nando hears him say. “After you cheated on him, by the way. Just in case you forgot.” Nate raises his eyebrows, but stays silent. Quinn is reeling now, and there’s no stopping him. “And I happen to know an awful lot about the way you treated him, and how much that hurt him, so don’t you dare try to act so friendly, like you didn’t break him.” Nando is frozen in place, as Quinn picks up both of the drinks. “He owes you nothing. He clearly does not want to reconnect with you, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to do that either with someone who did nothing but make me feel awful about myself for two years.” Quinn isn’t even making a scene— the only reason Nando can hear what he’s saying is because he’s not standing that far away— but Jesus Christ, if this isn’t the most satisfying thing to witness in the world. Nate is red in the face and absolutely silent, and Quinn is staring daggers at him; if looks could kill, he’d be dead on sight. “If you wanted to be his friend, maybe you shouldn’t have stomped all over his heart.”

Nando cannot believe his ears.

“And,” Quinn adds, like it’s the end of a big monologue, “I’m going to need two straws.”

Nando is so in love with this boy.

He watches, trying not to smile or even laugh, as Nate fumbles into the thing of straws and shoves two in Quinn’s direction. Quinn takes them, flashes a big, stage smile, and says, “Thank you!” before he turns and walks back in Nando’s direction.

The fake smile turns self-satisfied in a second flat, as he meets Nando’s eyes again. Nando is still kind of frozen, but he wants to kiss him, right in the middle of Starbucks.

All he can say is, “Baby.”

Quinn is all smiles. He looks the way he does when he comes out of the stage door after a great show. “Ready to go, honey?”

“Am I ever,” Nando says, and they join hands again as they head for the door. He’s not sure if Quinn knows that he heard what he said. “That… was kind of the most satisfying thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

“Oh,” Quinn replies as he sticks his straw into his iced tea, “trust me, Sebastián. It’s the most satisfying thing I’ve done as long as I can remember.” He pauses, as he takes a sip, and then adds, “I’ve been wanting to do that for longer than I can even say.”

“It was hot,” he says, because, well, it was. “And just… jeez, I— maybe something good did come out of this situation.”

“Of course it did,” Quinn replies. His smile is kind of maniacal, and Nando is into it. “I got to have the confrontation of my dreams, and I got an iced tea.” He holds up his drink. “Cheers!”

Nando bumps his vanilla coffee against it and laughs. “Cheers, baby.”

Quinn squeezes his hand. They walk back outside into the summer day, and Nando doesn’t look back.

Not even a glance.

#crickets #nandoooooooo #mini quinny #quindo #fuck n*te hours #ficlet #mel writes

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dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Murder House - Amateur Detectives

Bet you guys weren’t expecting this, huh? Well I still wanted to get a daily fic out and this is the only thing I have written that’s good enough to go out right now. I’m really trying to get back on schedule, and I don’t want to rapid fire these parts out, so hopefully I’ll be getting back to requests soon. But for now, please enjoy part two of Murder House! It’s a relatively short chapter, but things kick off real quickly. I’m getting you guys hooked on the plot before I start implementing a posting schedule. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, it’s 2 AM and my brain is the equivalent of a potato.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Talk of death, typical high school swearing/insults, dead bodies

Part 1

“Holy shit, Christina Denmark?” Anne gasped.

Frantically nodding Cathy tried to regain her breath. “The freshmen were having an assembly and one of the cops was there. She left her radio, so Mr. Wolsey asked me to take it back to the station. I was tuning in to some of the police chatter, and they started talking about Christina and -” her voice cut off. Cathy’s hands were shaking as her breathing fluctuated.

All four of the girls knew Christina Denmark, whether it was personally or socially. She had almost dated Henry after he and Jane had broken up, but she managed to escape that terrifying reality. She and Anna had been friends at one point, but that was only through the strands of popularity. “Christina,” Anna started, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“Is this for real?” Kit asked, her previous anger at Anne forgotten.

Nodding, Cathy pulled out the police radio from her bag. “I have the radio right here.”

“Well you know what we have to do,” Anne said seriously. Her gaze was set directly on the radio.

“We investigate,” Cathy finished for her.

Neither Kit nor Anna seemed on board with the idea. “Investigate a possible murder? Guys, we aren’t Scooby Doo characters,” Anna chuckled nervously. She didn’t like how serious Anne and Cathy seemed. With Anne’s thirst for adventure mixed with Cathy’s need for answers, things could only end badly.

“Yes, but we know Christina. The police aren’t going to tell anyone about this until things get serious,” Cathy explained. “This is our only chance to help find her.”

Shuffling her feet, Kit was unconvinced. “But we’re high school kids. If she’s missing, it could be kidnappers, murderers, any kind of criminal. Do we really want to get involved in that?”

“But we can help! We know Christina better than those cops. Besides, we are high school kids,” Anne spoke with wonder dripping from her voice. “That means we know how Christina acts. If she ran away, we’ll be able to trace her better than anyone else.”

Anna and Kit were still hesitant to agree. It was Cathy who won Anna over. “If there’s anything we can do to figure this out, it’s the right thing to do. We can take action that the police won’t. Shouldn’t we be obligated to do what we can?”

Something inside of Anna switched, and suddenly she was agreeing with Cathy and Anne. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Kit looked at her in surprise. “Anna! You’re agreeing to help them meddle in a missing persons case, possibly a murder investigation? You realize how illegal that is.”

“Kit,” Anne put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder, all ill will forgotten. “Do you want to see Christina dead?”

“No…”

“We can help find her! You won’t get hurt, and you’ll be helping someone. Isn’t that the right thing to do?” Anne was firm on her decision to help find Christina, and she would do anything to convince Kit to come with them.

Biting her lip, Kit relented. “Okay. But if things get bad…”

“We’ll back out,” Anna promised. “All of us.” She glanced at Cathy and Anne who reluctantly agreed to Anna’s terms. “Well then. Cathy? Where do we start?”

Kit did not like this one bit. She expected to be going to Christina’s house and interviewing her family, not trekking through the middle of the woods. But of course Cathy’s police scanner told them that the police suspected her body to be hidden in the woods, so that’s where they went. Anne seemed far too excited for someone searching for a body, but none of the girls tried to damper her mood. “This is like a real life episode of Luther, isn’t it,” Anne commented, hopping over a fallen tree.

“I guess. If you ignore the fact that he’s a detective and we’re a bunch of high schoolers,” Anna cheekily replied.

Rolling her eyes, Anne stuck out her tongue at Anna. “Okay, I get it, we aren’t qualified to be searching for Christina. But guess what?”

“What?” Cathy murmured, unaware that Anne was being rhetorical.

“We’re doing it anyway,” Anne replied, snapping her fingers. “So let’s get a move on.” The four of them continued their walk, silence settling around them.

“Everyone quiet,” Cathy whispered, freezing in place. The others followed suit, their anxiety levels spiking at Cathy’s sudden apprehensiveness. “Do you hear that?” she whispered again.

Attentively, the four girls tuned into the sounds of the woods around them. Cathy was right, there was a strange sound. It sounded almost like… footsteps. Immediately crouching down, the girls shared terrified looks. Whoever they were listening to could very well be Christina’s kidnappers/killers. As the noise got louder, Anne picked up a large branch and held it like a bat. The footsteps got closer and closer until the girls were holding their breaths in anticipation.

“Ah!” Anne screamed, jumping out and holding her branch at the ready.

“AH!” Came the terrified voices of Catherine de Aragon and Jane Seymour as they jumped back in fear. The six girls were all at varying levels of stress as they recovered from the scare. “What the hell was that Boleyn?” Catherine demanded angrily.

“So you’re Christina’s killers!” Anne accused.

The girls in question stared at her in confusion. “What?” Jane asked incredulously. “Christina’s killers - why would we kill Christina? Why would you think Christina’s dead?”

Cathy held up her radio. “Police scanner,” she answered.

“Why are you out in the woods?” Anne stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. “Come to dispose of the body?”

“What are you even talking about?” Catherine threw her arms up in exasperation.

Anna stepped forward, less suspicious than Anne but still confused. “The police are saying that Christina Denmark is missing, and they think she’s dead.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, that’s terrible.”

“We know,” Cathy agreed. “They suspect that the killer would’ve dropped her body in these woods. If she’s dead.”

“And you think we’re the killers?” Catherine put a hand on her hip.

“No!” Kit jumped in. “We were just scared, that’s all.”

Still wary, Anne lowered her branch. “You haven’t told us why you’re out here yet.”

“We volunteer at a local science research facility,” Jane started.

Kit’s eyes widened. “That’s so cool.”

“It really is Kat,” Catherine smiled at her. Anne shot a scathing glare at Catherine and moved subtly in between the two seniors and her cousin.

“The scientists asked us to get samples from the river further back that way,” Jane pointed behind them. “That’s why we’re here.” Curious, Kit started to make her way around the others and move towards where Jane had pointed.

While most of the girls seemed satisfied with the answer, Anne refused to let it go. “I don’t trust you two.”

“Then don’t trust us Anne,” Catherine sighed.

Cathy and Anna moved next to each other and watched the standoff. “Do you think Anne’s going to rage at them?” Cathy glanced at Anna before turning her attention back to the three girls.

Anna shook her head. “No, Anne’s more controlled than we give her credit for.”

“You say that after she blew up twice in two days.”

“True,” Anna shrugged. “But she’s far more interested in finding Christina than starting an argument with these two.”

A scream broke them away from their conversation. All five girls whipped their heads around, searching for Kit, the one who screamed. Rushing through the trees, they came upon Kit’s frozen form. Anna was the first one at her side. “Kit what’s -” she didn’t get to finish her sentence.

Because there at Kit’s feet was the dead body of Christina Denmark.

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Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thenicestnonbinary @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom @frogs-in-clogs @timetoriseabove @obliviousasheck

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #welcome to the murder house #amateur detectives #this wasn't supposed to come out today #but i didn't have anything else #and i still wanted to post a daily fic #murder mystery au #high school au #probably wont post the next part for a while #i dont like posting everything at once #and i really need to do some requests #i am so not confident in posting this part #but im doing it anyway #and i hope you all enjoy it

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antifaintl · 5 years

Note

What kind of experience would you say is needed to be a street medic? Do you think a lifeguard qualification would suffice?

We’re not sure what kind of first aid is required for life guard certification so we can’t call it but we’d strongly recommend people take wilderness first aid courses, since they are designed to give you the skills you’ll need if an ambulance/hospital is not immediately accessible, which can happen if you’re in a bad street situation/political action. We had a bunch of street medic tips on our previous blog before tumblr arbitrarily deleted it without reason or explanation (thanks tumblr!), but we’ve dug it up and here is what we said when asked last year: By Popular Demand - Street Medic Tips! OK, y’all asked for it so here are some tips we got from one of our street medic pals: 1) Well, first off, for buying supplies, always go with generics. they do the same damn thing and you get more of them for the cost. Buy tampons and pads alongside regular gauze bandages, they’re excellent for dealing w puncture wounds. carry duct tape and plastic bags. the plastic bags will help w sucking chest wounds, tape three sides to the skin to prevent the wound from sucking air in the wrong way. but you won’t encounter much of that. 2) Carry sunscreen, pref. in a spray bottle. in fact, combating fatigue and sunstroke should be a priority (this changes seasonally). I recommend looking up switchel and making a bit of that, and recommending each person take a little glug of it after they’ve come to see you for water a couple times. loss of electrolytes from sweat is no joke. switchell is just a mix of vinegar, lemon juice, honey, boiled and steeped ginger, water, and add a healthy pinch of iodized salt. Kept farmers alive so… 3) Keep your things in easy access containers. so, have bandages be in a fairly waterproof container that you can access, wound prep stuff in another, cleaners in another, etc. you don’t need to have everything in one case. Also, if you plan on doctoring, you’re sitting out any scraps for the day, tbh. Your effectiveness is reliant on not being arrested or being kept from helping people. so, depending on the situ, no face covering beyond surgical masks, making oneself visible, not clobbering fash..which believe me, it’s a pain in the ass to not be in the thick of it, but your job is to stabilize people enough that they can make it home/ to the hospital. 4) Take as many first aid classes as possible. absorb as much information from as many sources as possible. and make it clear you’re not a licensed professional so you don’t get sued for trying to help anyone (note that in some areas you provided medical assistance is protected by “good Samaritan” laws). Especially useful are wilderness first aid classes, which train you about what to do in any situation where medical aid is not immediately accessible. 5) Look into those simple water bottle gasmasks for people your stabilizing in case of residual teargas on the wind. Those sorts of makeshift gasmasks/respirators aren’t going to do a lot to protect you in the thick of it, but it makes your job easier if the person isn’t inhaling an irritant. 6) Assess the situation. if the person can be moved, get them to somewhere sheltered and away from the action. preferably, you have people with you to facilitate this, then you can have a few ppl in a row that you’re working on, having volunteers applying pressure to wounds for the requisite 15 minutes or so. 7) Having a few people to help limp folks over to a central area is super useful in theory, then you can maximize effectiveness in helping folks. Superglue is also useful for closing seriously bad wounds, but only in dire circumstances. Stuff’s a bit toxic. Only use it if the person seems like they’re gonna die. Saline wound wash is great, btw. Get it in a spray bottle. Aloe vera gel is good for minor burns so you can smack it on and bolt. 8) If you absolutely positively HAVE to put a tourniquet on, make sure that the time (with AM or PM and date) is clearly labeled in sharpie in several places so when the poor sod gets handed off to a professional they know what’s up. don’t want them to lose an arm. MAKE SURE IT’S IN MULTIPLE PLACES, AND INCLUDE AM OR PM AND MAYBE EVEN THE DATE. Also, don’t try to cauterize wounds. it never works. as tempting as it is to carry rum for numbing, don’t. it’s just an easy arrest for the pigs.9) It’s honestly not too worth it to dispense actual medicines, but that’s mostly my opinion. the most you can get away with is aspirin and other over the counter pain meds. maybe some allergy stuff just in case. Speaking of, make sure you ask the person about any allergies a couple times as you get started, they’re likely in a bit of shock, and you need to be sure you don’t accidentally kill someone through some obscure allergy. Always use non latex, just to be safe. I know it’s a pain.10) Seriously though, can’t emphasize enough that besides the medical stuff, bandages, bandage scissors, cleaning stuff etc. Some of the most important essentials you can bring are duct tape, pads, tampons, water and sunscreen. Wear a hat. The sun can and will kill you dead. And on electrolytes again, sports drinks should be avoided. they suck donkey dick and don’t really work. They’ll just dry you out. switchel or similar stuff if you can make it. recipes pretty loose, so just go for it. 11) Please get trained/ certified in as much stuff as possible. try to get folks to help you out as well. Here’s an organization that does wilderness medical training in North America. Obv. the more the better. every person carrying a bit of water. thirst is a shite indicator of need 4 water. Once your thirsty, omae wa mou shindeiru. Take a sip of room temp water every twenty mins or so. also, don’t drink cold water if you’ve been out bashing fash. you’ll puke because your body’s fucked up like that. SUNSCREEN! 12) If anyone wants to get free training to get started as a street medic, google search “stop the bleed.” Every major U.S. hospital has funding for this. Even if you can’t make it to trainings, THEY WILL COME TO YOU. Just get a group of friends, email the instructor and set up a time and location. After you take the course, you can register to teach it yourself! Spread the knowledge, spread the skill! 13) Two first aid manuals you might want to look at: -Wilderness & Rescue Medicine (Jeffrey E. Isaac, PA-C & David E. Johnson, MD; 2013, Jones & Bartlet Learning) -The Field Guide Of Wilderness & Rescue Medicine (Jim Morrissey, EMT-P, WEMT, with David Johnson, MD; 2017, Wilderness Medical Associates) (Spanish version here!) 14) Want to know more? Google “street medic training.” You might be surprised with what you come up with!

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donteattheappleshook · 5 years

Text

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 6/13

After literally more than a year and a half, here is chapter 6. In a miraculous turn of events though, Chapter 7 is already written and will be posted next week. Chapter 8 is half done and will be posted the week after that. I promise I have not abandoned this fic.

As always, thank you @kmomof4 for fixing my terrible grammar and being so supportive of this fic <3

Summary:

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 6 - Roll Away Your Stone

You told me that I would find a home / Within the fragile substance of my soul / And I have filled this void with things unreal / And all the while my character it steals

The first show had gone great, really great actually, better than she’d expected. She’d been so nervous. It had been so long since she’d been up on stage - a real stage, not just open mic night at a bar or a club but a real honest to god show where she got to sing more than one song, where the audience was there for her… well okay, technically they’d been there for Abandon Ship!, but she really felt like she’d won them over in the end. At least that’s the feeling she got from the standing ovation they’d given her.

And to play with Mary Margaret and Ruby, god she’d missed that. When Ruby had told Liam a few weeks ago that they were her band she hadn’t exactly been lying. They were her band, it had just been a very, very long time since they actually backed her up. More than anything, it had been a way for her friends to guarantee that she wouldn’t have to go on this tour alone. But the last time they’d played together they had been teenagers, Emma had just barely gotten her driver’s license; Ruby had braces. She’d missed it. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed that part of their friendship, how much it had meant to her - before he showed up and ripped it all away.

She’d honestly been really impressed with how quickly her friends had learned her new songs. She had a sneaking suspicion that they may have been secretly watching her little late night skeevy bar shows more often than they’d admitted to. There had been very little discussion about it really though, the songs that is. They couldn’t play most of her old songs for reasons that Emma didn’t like to think about. And well the other ones, the ones she wrote after everything happened, she couldn’t play those. Those hurt worse. And so, they were left with her new songs - well, newer. She hadn’t written much in the last couple of years. Work, life had gotten in the way. It was hard to come home at 5am after a stakeout and find the motivation to sit and write when her bed seemed like such a better option.

It was fun, really fun, to play with her friends, to have people enjoy her music, to see them dance and try to sing along to songs they hadn’t heard before and she got to share that with the most important people in her life.

Tonight was a good night. She was glad that they’d had this show. She’d been worried at first about having to perform only a few hours after they touched ground in LA but Belle knew what she was doing. She’d booked them a performance in some bar that was so non-mainstream that it had become incredibly mainstream but hadn’t put the word out until an hour before the show with a post to the band’s social media accounts. Within thirty minutes they were turning people away at the door. Nothing drew a crowd like exclusivity.

Despite the raging fans, she was happy the show had been in a small venue. It was almost like a dress rehearsal, a trial run to a show tomorrow that would change her life forever. They were playing the Hollywood Bowl, the fucking Hollywood Bowl, the seventeen-thousand-five-hundred seat Hollywood Bowl. The show was sold out.

Emma’s hands clammed up just thinking about it. She hadn’t realised when she’d agreed to go on tour with Abandon Ship! just how big they were. Yes, she knew a few of their songs, had heard them on the radio, had a few of them on her phone, saw their album promoted on Spotify, but somehow she’d failed to grasp just how popular, how famous the guys were rapidly becoming.

Their album was number one in the country - in most countries in fact - and there were rumors of Grammy nominations. The only reason they still managed to have some semblance of anonymity was the fact that their music was - thus far - more popular than their faces, but that was changing too. Emma had googled them… well, she’d googled him. It had started with the band really, but then she’d noticed a few fan sites and then stumbled on “Jones brothers thrist tweets” and then “Killian Jones thirst tweets”. It had been a rabbit hole from there.

She watched them now, playing the final few songs of their set. They looked so good up there, so natural. Liam had an incredible voice. Had he gotten better since she saw them play all those years ago? Or maybe it was just the songs they were playing, the ones everyone knew, the ones that made them famous, everyone was singing along. Every single one of their songs was fantastic, annoyingly so. The music was sometimes exciting and upbeat and lifted your heart up and sometimes it was heart wrenching but the lyrics made her feel like they had been written about specific moments in her own life. They brought back bittersweet memories and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She’d never quite connected to anyone else’s music like that. It was jarring.

She could hear Killian singing as well, it seemed they had decided to start sharing the lead singer role since Emma had last seen them play. She was sure he looked great up there too but she couldn’t know for certain since she was actively avoiding looking at him - had been for the last hour and a half - had been since they stepped out of the elevator six hours ago. She remembered though, remembered the last time she watched him play, watched him sing into the microphone like he was trying to seduce it - or at least trying to seduce every woman in the room. Her, she was reminded, he had been trying to seduce her.

She thought again about the show tomorrow, the size of the stadium and the number of people who would be watching and her palms started to sweat. She thought about playing there with Killian watching from backstage and her heart started racing. She stole a glance at him now. Big mistake. Suddenly she was back in the little bar in New York, she was back in the dressing room, and then she was back in the elevator this evening. She clenched her fists. Why had she agreed to this again?

“Hey! Why the long face?” Ruby demanded as she set their drinks down on the table and then threw herself into the booth beside them. “Mary Margaret! Why is she looking like she’s gonna pass out? You were on Emma duty. You’re supposed to be watching her and preventing grand escapes. Look at her! She’s about to bolt.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes snapped up to her friends and her face instantly flushed bright red. “I’m sorry!” she practically squeeked out, “she was fine a minute ago. I was watching the show and I got… distracted.” She was stealthy in her glance but not stealthy enough for Emma (and she suspected Ruby) to miss the way her eyes flickered to David before fluttering around as though she were actively trying to look anywhere else.

Ruby’s grin was enormous. “Mary Margaret, I’m shocked. Ignoring your Emma duties for a pair of pretty blue eyes?”

“I wasn’t -” she tried to defend herself but it fell flat.

Emma smiled despite herself as she watched her friends. Right. This was why she was here. They were why she was here. Wasn’t that always the case, her friends dragging her into insane situations and her left wondering how she’d managed to be dragged?

“If you could all stop talking about me in the third person that would be great,” she said but her annoyance also fell flat. “I can take care of myself,” she grinned, “so Mary Margaret can oggle drummers all she likes.” Her friend turned even redder.

“And what about you, then?” Ruby asked with her own shrewd smirk. “What’s got you in a cold sweat? Is it the show tomorrow or a certain guitarist with a penchant for eyeliner and an aversion to buttons?” Emma just glared at her, which only served to make Ruby laugh. “Thought so.”

They sat through the rest of the show, Emma sulking with her arms crossed over her chest, Mary Margaret actively looking everywhere except the stage, and Ruby throwing them shit-eating grins every chance she got. When the boys were on their last song of the night, Belle hurried over to their table to rush them backstage.

“They’re gonna do one encore, maybe two if they feel up to it, and then we’ll head out the side door where there’s a car waiting for you to take you back to the hotel. There will be people out there, they’re already lined up waiting to get autographs. You don’t have to say or do anything but a little ‘look how much they like their fans’ publicity is never a bad thing. Got it?” She said all this matter of factly, as though it wasn’t absolutely insane that there would be people outside hoping to get her autograph. They couldn’t possibly want hers, Belle must have meant they’d be wanting the boys’ autographs.

Ruby gave Belle a thumbs up and Belle nodded. “Great. I’ll get in the car with you guys and the boys will get in theirs and we’ll meet back at the hotel. There might be people there too although as far as we know word hasn’t leaked about where we’re staying.” Emma listened to all of this in a daze. This couldn’t be her life could it? This couldn’t all actually be happening.

By the time she had come back to the world around her she was being ushered out the side door behind the guy’s band and her own to a crowd of waiting fans all of whom were taking pictures and shouting “I love you’s”. She froze like a deer in the headlights, staring out at flashing lights and people who somehow knew her name and were shoving papers and pens at her. She froze, as though she’d lost control of her body. She knew she should be walking, that the gap between her and the others was growing wider but she couldn’t make her feet move.

Her heart was racing in her throat and she was just considering the fact that she might throw up when suddenly a hand grabbed her own. She recognized that hand, the warm, soft palm and the long, rough fingers that were wrapped around her own. She focused on the hand for a moment before focusing on it’s owner. Killian’s expression was soft though he was looking at her with some concern. He was always looking concerned around her, she realised. She felt bad about that.

He gave her a small nod and one side of his mouth quirked up when she met his eyes. “It’s okay, they don’t bite,” he said, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Usually.” He winked and it made her feet seem to suddenly remember they were connected to her brain. “Come on,” he coaxed. He led her through the crowd of people, through the shouts and the lights to the car where Belle was waiting holding the door open, Ruby and Mary Margaret already inside. He helped her into the car like she was some frightened Victorian damsel being helped into a carriage by some Austenian hero. He leaned in, checking that she was settled and turned to head to his own car without a word.

“Hey!” Emma called after him, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours. He looked back. “Thanks.”

He smiled, just a little thing. “It gets easier,” he promised.

“You know that’s going to be all over the internet tomorrow don’t you?” she heard Liam scold as Belle shut the door and jumped in the passenger seat. She saw Killian shrug, sign an autograph, and jump in his vehicle.

Once they were far enough away that she couldn’t see the boys or the venue anymore, she turned to her friends for the first time since getting in the car. They all looked nearly as amazed as she felt, though perhaps not quite as shellshocked.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ruby said and Emma laughed. She didn’t even know why she laughed, it was probably adrenaline or something but she couldn’t stop and soon all three of them were in hysterics, even Belle started giggling in the front seat. Holy fucking shit indeed.

***

They all ended up in Liam and Belle’s hotel room as they were all still riding the high of the show and Liam and Belle had the biggest room - which Killian gave his brother a hell of a lot of flack for. “Get yourself married and then you can have the big room,” Liam taunted his brother in retaliation.

They were finally winding down after what had been one of the longest days of Emma’s life. Between the flight and the soundcheck and the show she hadn’t had a minute to stop or to herself since yesterday afternoon. Usually, she would have found that incredibly draining, and she did on some level, but not in the way she expected. Part of the reason Emma had chosen her job was because it allowed her to work alone. That was how she liked it. Being around people all the time, having to be ‘on’, to have to interact and socialize with people exhausted her. People always expected something from her and when she didn’t live up to it they were disappointed. Ruby and Mary Margaret were, of course, the exception to that rule. But, for some reason, despite having spent the entire day surrounded by near strangers, Emma felt surprisingly… good.

It was strange how easy it was to be around Belle and the boys. Liam and Belle were adorably in love and, it turned out once they were out of the public eye, they were almost disgustingly affectionate. Still, she couldn’t help smiling at them, Belle curled in her husband’s lap, his arms wrapped around her as they sat on the carpeted floor, backs against the sofa.

David and Graham had instantly shifted into big brother mode - or what Emma imagined having big brothers would have been like. The two were one joke after the other while mercilessly teasing each other and occasionally Emma as well. She found she didn’t mind the teasing and had felt a sort of proud thrill at their excitement when she’d given it back just as hard.

And Killian, she didn’t know what it was about him but somehow just being in his presence made her feel relaxed, made her feel calm. It was like something that radiated from him, an openness and a gentleness that she’d been too distracted to really notice before. She could see that the others felt it too, even his brother, despite his constant put-on airs of indignation at Killian’s almost unshakable lightheartedness.

Calm, until he looked at her. When he looked at her, her heart suddenly started racing and her breath caught in her throat for a second before she composed herself and snapped out of it. This was new territory, feeling comfortable and on edge around someone at the same time. She didn’t know if she liked it. It scared her.

Only four of them were sat around on the floor now. Mary Margaret and David had disappeared into a corner somewhere where it looked like she was trying to teach him how to twirl a drumstick between his fingers. He was failing miserably, though Emma suspected he was exaggerating his incompetence so that Mary Margaret would keep scooting closer and readjusting his hand. He smiled everytime he dropped the stick and she laughed.

Killian’s phone had been plugged into a little portable speaker and music filled the room now. Ruby had somehow managed to convince Graham to dance. Well, she was dancing, he was kind of standing there, swaying awkwardly and letting her hold his hand and twirl while he watched her with a big dumb grin on his face.

The song switched and it took Emma a second before she recognized the guy’s first single. She smirked at Killian.

“You have your own song on your most played?” she teased. She’d meant it as a joke but Killian quickly reached for his phone to change songs. “You don’t have to change it,” Emma said, feeling bad now. “It’s a good song.”

“Put the song back on!” David demanded and Killian rolled his eyes but conceded when Graham, Mary Margaret and Ruby joined in the chant.

“A lot of your songs are good,” she said, addressing the group now. “I didn’t realise how many of them I actually knew until the show tonight.”

Killian laughed. “So nice to be recognised,” he teased and she felt better that he was laughing with her.

“I’m just saying, you guys are really good. Like yeah, your songs are catchy but they also have depth you know? Substance.” She felt herself get red at her awkward attempts at a compliment.

“That’s all Killian,” David called from the back of the room. “He’s the songwriter. The real poet of the gang. The bard of the band,” he singsonged and Emma laughed wondering how many drinks David had had tonight or if Mary Margaret had just met her match for the title for cheapest drunk.

“It’s not just me,” Killian insisted. “Liam writes too. We all do.” Modesty. Emma was shocked and she said so.

“Hardly,” Liam countered. He looked at Emma, “I dabble.”

“He wrote this one,” Killian countered, referring to the song still echoing through the speaker. Liam gave Killian a look that Emma couldn’t read but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re so lucky, Belle,” Ruby sighed from where she was now swaying along with Graham to the slower melody.

“How so?”

“To have a song about love at first sight written about you.” Oh boy, if Ruby was getting romantic it was definitely time to get her to bed.

“It’s not about love at first sight,” Killian said almost instantly and everyone turned to him. He looked up shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He looked to his brother.

Liam cleared his throat. “He’s right. It’s not just about that,” he agreed. Emma couldn’t make sense of whatever unspoken conversation was happening between the Joneses at the moment. She blamed it on the rum. “It’s also about allowing yourself to be open to love again, to believe you deserve it.” Killian stared at his brother and Liam looked back as though daring him to say something.

Finally, David broke the tension. “Heavy, man.” That was enough to make everyone laugh and the awkwardness seemed to pass. He and Mary Margaret retreated back into their little bubble as did Ruby and Graham as the song switched to something more bluesy and she did something incredibly intentional and incredibly captivating with her hair. Graham just stared, awestruck. Poor boy, Emma thought. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Speaking of great music,” Liam said, drawing her back to the conversation they’d been having. “You guys were great up there.”

“Yeah?” Emma asked and then wished she could snatch the words back. That had sounded so pathetic. She’d been so nervous though, it was nice to hear that it had gone well from an outside point of view.

“Hell yeah!” Belle answered for her husband. “You’re already trending on twitter,” she said, pulling out her phone to show her a video someone had taken of the concert with captions like ‘Emma Swan out of nowhere’, and ‘the next big thing?’ written underneath. Emma just stared, slackjaw. She didn’t know how to react to that. This wasn’t even in her wheelhouse of possible situations to have possible, reasonable reactions to. She handed the phone back to Belle who turned to Killian.

“Killian, you hadn’t heard her yet right?” He gave a hesitant shake of his head. “What did you think?” she prodded.

“Yeah, it was good,” he said, noncommittally, not looking her in the eye. Emma felt it like a blow to her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma demanded.

“Nothing,” Killian insisted. “I said it was good.”

For some reason she didn’t understand, a part of her wanted him to like it. And was crushed that he didn’t. She wasn’t even aware of that want, that need until now. She was surprised by how much his rejection hurt, how much she had hoped for his praise. That feeling scared her. She’d never needed anybody’s praise, never needed anyone to make her feel valued, never needed to depend on anyone for anything and yet here she was, devastated because some guy had said ‘yeah, it was good’. It scared her, and when Emma got scared or hurt she got angry. And now she was both.

“If you don’t like my music you can just say so,” she snapped. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“I don’t not like it,” he said hesitantly and she crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to elaborate. He sighed, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “Look, do you want me to be honest?“

"No, I want you to lie to me,” she snapped sarcastically.

"The songs you played tonight are fun, they’re catchy, people like them and you play really well.”

“But?” She wasn’t letting him off.

He let out a heavy sigh. “But your lyrics… they’re not about anything.” She jumped back as though he’d slapped her.

“Killian!” Liam started, but he went on.

“I just mean that they don’t reveal anything about you or have any depth beyond -”

“Killian. Stop.” Liam was insistent now and Killian looked at him for a second then shut his mouth.

“No, it’s okay,” Emma said to Liam. She was furious - furious because of how hurtful, how cruel his words had been and how much it hurt that it had been him that spoke them. And a small, very small part of her was angry because she knew it was true. She hadn’t written anything real in a long time; she hadn’t written about herself. She wrote about other people, told their stories but there was no emotion tied to it. But she had her reasons. She had her reasons and he didn’t know anything about them and he’d just…

“Not every song has to be some soul bearing journal entry,” she said, her voice bitter and quiet. “Music can just be fun.”

Killian looked at her for a long time, long enough to make her uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to get out of her. It felt like he knew something, something about her that he shouldn’t know and it had her on edge.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.” Emma stood and made her way to the door. She didn’t want to stay here anymore, didn’t want to put up with anymore of his crap.

“Emma -” he started but she dismissed him.

As she left the room she could hear Ruby and Mary Margaret saying goodbye and rushing out after her and she could hear Liam speaking to his brother.

“You are an absolute dick.”

He sighed. “I know.”

She reached her room with her friends right on her tail. She didn’t have it in her. She couldn’t deal with the ‘it’s okays’ and the ‘he’s totally wrongs’ that they would have for her. Because the truth of it was that it wasn’t okay and he wasn’t totally wrong and having them try and defend her would just make her more upset about how deeply his words had cut her.

“Guys, listen, I just want to go to bed okay?” Her friends were hesitant to leave her alone. “Seriously, I’m tired and I’m pissed and I just… I just want to go to sleep and forget about it. Alright? We can talk tomorrow.” They hesitated for a minute longer but recognized her resolve and agreed. They each wrapped her in a giant bear hug before saying goodnight and promising to check on her in the morning.

She couldn’t sleep though. She tried. She roughly pulled on her pyjamas, fumed while she washed her face, and brushed her teeth with unnecessary aggression. She threw herself onto the mattress, pulling the comforter over her head in the hopes that she could block out all the thoughts in her head and silence the rage and hurt rushing through her veins. She lay there for exactly forty-five seconds.

Emma threw off her blankets, kicking her feet free before sitting on her bed, letting her head fall into her hands as she tried to calm down. When she looked up, having failed to stop picturing multiple ways she could murder Killian and not get caught, she saw her guitar sitting across the room. She stared at it for a long time, briefly considering if she could use it to murder Killian, before letting out a frustrated groan.

“Fucking damnit,” she snapped as she stood and snatched the instrument, falling back onto the mattress. She brought her fingers up to the frets but her hands were shaking too hard for her to play. No depth. Fuck him. She used to have depth, she used to have meaning - in her songs, in her life - but then he’d come along and ripped all of that away. Now all she was was empty. She could fill it sometimes with happy melodies and fun lyrics to try and patch up the hole left inside of her but whenever she tried, dug into the hole and tried to find something, there was nothing. Only pain, a pain so overwhelming that she would do anything to bury it again. Eventually she’d stopped digging.

She remembered the last time she’d tried, when she’d pushed through it long enough to find something worthwhile inside herself but it had been too much and she’d been overwhelmed by the memories - a hotel room, Nashville, playing with him, being with him, waiting for him… she let the guitar fall out of her hands to the floor. She just can’t.

Fuck you, Killian Jones.

#captain swan #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #cs smut #captain swan smut #killian jones #emma swan #liam x belle #cs #cs manip

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albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter One)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday.

I also tried to be fancy with the html, but it didn't come out right (you will see what I mean). However, I'm leaving it as is for now.

Chapter 1: Inciting Incidents

Day 0:

“I'm smooth as peanut butter,” Dave protested, his coffee sloshing in its cup as he swung his arm out. “Choosy moms might choose Jiff, but I ain't in the market for an older woman at the moment. Just call me Skippy, because that's how smooth I am.”

Rose looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Really?” She took a small, dignified sip of her tea.

“Yes!” Dave frowned. “I'm like super suave. Fucking James Bond over here.”

She squinted at him for a moment. “You do realize that James Bond is characterized by his inability to keep any woman with him longer than the length of one of his movies.”

“That's only because he's too much man to be tied down,” Dave said. “And that's not even the point: the point is that the fucker's suave. He can have any girl he wants.”

“And I suppose you can get any boy you want?” It sounded dismissive. “It would be wonderful if you managed that feat before my wedding. You know how mother worries about you, and I would rather not spend the first day wedded to my wife listening to mother wailing about how her poor little Davey's going to be all alone in the world.”

Dave felt the flush creeping up his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was experiencing his future humiliation already or if he was getting mad. Just because he couldn't keep a relationship going for long, that didn't mean he wasn't smooth. It wasn't his fault that up until very recently he'd only pursued girls because he hadn't wanted to admit he was gay... Okay, yes, that actually was his fault. The point was of course those relationships had failed. His relationship prowess had never been given a fighting chance. “Yeah, I could. In fact, I could make any of the guys here fall for me.”

“Very well, brother of mine,” Rose said, smiling that particular smile which tended to portend bad things for the person it was directed at, “how about that one?” She pointed to a man sitting alone at a table on the other end of the cafe.

Dave looked over at him without making it obvious he was doing so. Damn, Rose. The guy was a snack, obviously, but his expression indicated that the whole world had pissed in his cornflakes one at a time and had made him miss the bus to his job at the blow job factory. Still, it was too late to back out now. “Fine,” he said, setting down his cup just a little too hard. “I'll see you in two weeks, Rose, and I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We're going to be the hottest, gayest penguins you've ever fucking seen.”

She laughed at him. Which was fine: he was going to have the last laugh here. And there was no time like the present. He stood and strode over to the other table, curving his mouth in his smoothest, suavest fucking smile.

The man had noticed Dave's approach and looked up from his coffee, the ire on his face now joined by confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was rough but not unpleasant. His tone was less pleasant, but Dave had expected that from his expression.

“I sure hope so,” Dave said. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out to the man. “I've just lost my name: can I have yours?”

The man blinked. Then he laughed—less amused and more disbelieving. “Seriously? You're seriously going to open up with that? That has to be the cheesiest fucking pick up line I've heard in my life. And I've heard a lot of them.”

Dave only grinned. Breaking the ice was just one of Dave's many talents. “What can I say, dude, I'm a connoisseur of fine cheese. Premium, aged in wooden crocks or whatever.” He waggled his hand. “Don't leave me hanging.”

The man looked from Dave's hand to his face and back again before heaving a sigh. He shook Dave's hand, his grip solid but not crushing. “Karkat.” Then he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Thought that was obvious, Karkat,” Dave said, trying the name out. He liked it. “I want to ask you out. On a date. I'm Dave, by the way,” he added quickly. It probably would have been smarter to open up with that. It also occurred to Dave that there were a lot of other variables he hadn't considered until this moment. “If you're single. God, I hope you're single. And into guys. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty stupid.”

Karkat opened his mouth but didn't speak as something too quick for Dave to pick up flashed across his face. Then he grinned, perhaps a little too widely. “You're in luck,” he said. “I am in the market for a date.”

Oh. “Cool. Cool, that's—” Dave broke off with a fake cough into his fist. “Yeah, uh. So, are you free tomorrow? Night?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” He dug through his bag and took out a small notepad. “Do you use Pesterchum?” he asked as he scribbled something down.

“I think everyone and their grandmother uses Pesterchum,” Dave said, still kind of surprised that this was going as well as it was. “Not my grandmother, I don't have one, but you know, grandmothers. Or the tech savvy ones anyway. I think your average grandmother might have some trouble—the text is kind of tiny, isn't it?”

Karkat looked up from his writing. “Right.” He ripped the page out and held it out to Dave. “Message me, and we can set up that date.”

Dave took the paper. “Thanks, I'll, uh, message you soon!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and made his way back to Rose. He knew his face was burning, but he decided to believe it was the flush of victory rather than anything else. She was still smiling at him, and he held the paper out in front of her face. “See? I've already got his chumhandle. You're going to eat your words, Rose. I hope you like the taste of humble pie.”

Rose laughed behind her hand. “Nice work, Dave,” she said once she'd recovered. “Try not to break his heart, won’t you?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “His heart is going to be wrapped in three layers of bubble wrap and under ten pounds of packing peanuts.” He shoved the paper into his pocket. “I got this thing on lock.”

---

Karkat tore his eyes away from the retreating Dave to jot down some notes on his notepad. Looked like he'd be able to write this article sooner rather than later. Unless Dave had been dared to come over and get his phone number. That had happened before. He scowled into his coffee. Well, if Dave never got in touch with him, then he'd just use his last disaster of a relationship to base his article on. That was what he'd planned to do originally anyway.

It wasn't a secret around the office that Karkat Vantas, despite being a font of romance wisdom, was dead in the water when it came to dating and keeping a boyfriend. He attributed this mostly to his abhorrent personality and lack of self-control. Whenever the opportunity came up for him to stick his foot in his mouth, you could find him there, furiously chewing on his toes. He'd lost count of how many times a date had ended because he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or rather, screamed something he shouldn't have at the top of his lungs with more profanity than was warranted in retrospect.

So, of course, the boss knew about Karkat's lackluster love life, too. The assignment had been one of her little jokes. One of her little mind games. “Oh, Mr. Vantas, please write an article about how to fuck up a relationship in less than two weeks—it should be easy for you seeing as you're such an expert at being so noxious that no one but your handful of friends can even stand to be anywhere around you, never mind a stranger who doesn't know your history or has any reason to want to stick around and deal with your bullshit.” Paraphrased, of course. Her version had been much less honest.

He re-read his notes.

* Dave, no last name given. Terrible pick up line. Rambles. Idiot or awkward. Or both. Dresses like a color-blind douche bag. Obnoxious sunglasses. Vision impaired? Hot. Attractive. Moderately attractive.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he set down his notepad to fish it out. He frowned down at the screen. A notification from Pesterchum? His heart rose a little despite himself until he saw the name. Kanaya. He sighed. While he was happy she was happy, he couldn't handle being gushed at right now. He put the phone on the table and finished his coffee.

---

Dave dithered for hours before he finally decided on the perfect message to open communications with.

TG: this is dave from the cafe TG: wanted to say hey TG: and ask what you want to do Saturday

Okay, so it wasn't the best rap ever, but he was stretched for material here. Also, it probably wasn't a good idea to blow up this guy's phone before Dave got some confirmation that this was even Karkat's chumhandle. It wouldn't be the first time someone had given him a dud. At least the messages were going through: that was a good sign.

CG: ARE YOU RHYMING ON PURPOSE? TG: hell yea dog TG: mc strider here by popular demand to lay down the jams TG: ive got all my adoring fans just waiting for me to shower them with stanz- TG: -as like youve never seen its a dream come true straight to you

That was enough; he had to give Karkat some time to respond. Assuming this was Karkat.

TG: this is karkat right? CG: OH I CAN TALK NOW? CG: YES THIS IS KARKAT. CG: AS CHARMING AS THIS IS (AND I AM SO UTTERLY CHARMED RIGHT NOW), DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME? TG: totally i totally do i knew as soon as i saw you yea im taking this total snack on a date

Which was not a lie, technically. Yes, Dave liked how Karkat looked, but he probably wouldn't have gone over to his table without Rose egging him on.

TG: where do you want to go skys the limit TG: but not really TG: cause no offense but i just met you TG: and i dont think were at the stage where id be willing to sell one my kidneys TG: to make your dreams of jumping out of an airplane onto the back of a narwhal or some shit like that come true TG: thats like after at least date number 5 and id expect some kind of thanks TG: at least a tongue kiss or something TG: not that i think you need to pay for dates physically TG: thats all kinds of gross TG: forget i said any of that please CG: … CG: HOW ABOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. CAN WE DO THAT?

Dave grinned with relief. He'd thought for sure he'd just blown this.

TG: sounds great nothing beats the classics

With that sorted out, the rest had been easy. Dave closed his phone, feeling accomplished. He was really doing this. He was really making this happen. But first, he had some clothes to throw in the shower!

---

Karkat slid his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. Well, now he had a date for tomorrow. He looked down at the new set of notes he'd written during that 'conversation'.

* Last name Strider? Raps without provocation. Definitely visually impaired. Goes off on wild tangents. I'm going to be murdered. What the hell am I doing?

It had been difficult not to react in his normal way to the frankly bizarre things Dave had said, and he knew that was only going to be more difficult to manage in person. Still, he had to 'hook' this man as best as he was able before he could fuck it up like always. After all, he couldn't 'lose' a guy he never 'had', right? He idly entertained the thought of what 'having' Dave might be like. He was clearly crazy, but there was something endearing in his total inability to communicate like a regular person. The way he'd been so obviously nervous and out of his depth when he'd come over to ask Karkat out. The way his cheeks had flushed when Karkat had accepted. The way his body had moved when he'd walked away.

Shaking his head, Karkat tucked the notepad into his bag. No point in even thinking about it. Even if he weren't getting into this just to ruin the relationship for his article, the end would have been the same anyway. Honestly, he was doing Dave a favor: at least this way, Dave would only be wasting ten days worth of his time rather than torturous months of dealing with Karkat's bullshit before finding an excuse to cut him loose.

#homestuck #fan fic #humanstuck #my fic #wip #the html looks fine on my end #don't know why it's messed up when it goes live #*shrugs*

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yoon-kooks · 5 years

Text

Blossom🌸- pt.2

Pairing: Stripper!Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Stripper!AU, College!AU

Summary: You decide to give the strip club another chance when your stripper neighbor promises to give you a special treat afterwards.

Warnings: lap dances, stripping, dry humping, blindfolds, thigh riding

Word Count: 4.9k

⤐ Story 2 in the Blossom!Universe; Read Blossom-pt.1 on my masterlist!

A/N: i cant believe i actual wrote d** h****** but it be like that sometime 😔

You’re not one to believe in love so easily, but your latest art assignment calls for something with “pure love”, and what you’re witnessing comes pretty close. So you casually pull out your sketchbook and begin outlining a rough sketch of the scene in front of you.

Your subjects wrestle around, unaware of your gaze, drowning each other in kisses and affection. She sits on top of him as she nips at his skin. He chuckles as he blocks her little bites until he can no longer resist, succumbing to her demands for more attention.

The giggles only stop several minutes later when one of your subjects finally takes notice of you with your pencil in hand.

“Drawing me again, huh?” Jimin sits up on his bed and glances over at you while his white puppy continues to lick his chin. “What’s the assignment this time?”

“To draw something that symbolizes pure love,” you wave the boy over to come take a look at your sketchbook. Intrigued by the topic, Jimin hops off the bed.

“Oh? Am I what comes to mind when you think of pure lo-” He meant to tease you about your potential crush on him, but he can only laugh when he sees your idea of pure love. Him playing with his puppy.

“So pure, right?” You point out a couple of things you’re especially proud of, like the details on the puppy’s paw pads and the feathering of its wagging tail.

“Right…” His lips slowly fall into the shape of a pout as he examines your sketch further. “But why did you draw her so much better than you drew me?”

You know he’s just messing with you, but the dedicated artist in you takes Jimin’s criticism to heart. Looking back at your sketch, it’s true that his body came out looking a lot more underdeveloped like a stick person next to a very realistic puppy with individual strokes of fur. And as funny as it is to look at, it’s a technical issue with your art that you’ve been trying to fix.

“I already told you I have a lot more experience drawing animals than I do with humans,” you explain. It’s not that you’re necessarily terrible at drawing humans, but your lack of comfort with them really shows in comparison to animals. That’s why you’ve recruited your stripper neighbor as your muse to help you find that comfort.

“I guess you just need more experience with humans then,” Jimin cocks his head to the side, not-so-subtly taking your hand into his. He attempts to interlace his fingers with yours, but you can’t take a hint so he settles for a very friendzoned handshake. “Think about it: you started with drawing only animals, then you drew me a couple of times, and then you moved up to animal-to-human interactions. Shouldn’t the next step be human-to-human interactions?”

“You have a point,” you nod, rather enjoying the pleasant feeling of holding his hand. “But I only have one human model, aka you.”

The boy stares your hands still clasped together and laughs, “Are you not a human?”

“I can’t be my own model and draw at the same time…” You do a messy scribbling gesture with your free hand.

“You don't have to draw at the same time,” Jimin captures your free hand and pulls you down onto the bed with him. You’d think laying on a bed with a stripper would be overwhelming for someone as wholesome as yourself, but you do get a sense of ease with him. Maybe it’s his eyesmile, or the clumps of dog fur on his dark shirt that remind you he’s still your dorky boy next door. Either way, you feel comfortable because it’s him you’re with. “Just experience it with me.”

“Experience what?” You feel his warmth radiating towards your body. Another pleasant feeling. “Handholding? Hugs? Kisses? Cuddling? Sleeping together? Se-”

“A lot of things if you’d like,” Jimin shushes you with an alluring stare. “Do you want to do all those things?”

“That would be ideal, yes,” you nod eagerly. If it means your art will feel more authentic and sentimental, you’d gladly engage in these interactions with Jimin. “For science, of course.”

“Right… for science…” He gives you a thumbs-up, although the corners of his lips seem to curve downward.

The frown doesn’t sit well with you, so you wiggle your hands out of his grasp and simply mirror them against his palms. Slowly you interlace each of your fingers between his, one-by-one until there’s no finger left behind. You pay special attention to the boy’s expression when you do this, but it softens less than you had hoped.

“Actually…” Jimin say, breaking the handhold. He runs his fingers through his hair a couple of times before rolling off the bed. “I forgot about work.”

“Oh right…” It’s your turn to frown. You forgot about it too. Not just the fact that the boy has work in an hour, but also that his job requires him to satisfy the naughty needs of other people besides yourself. You’re not the only one who wants a taste of Park Jimin. “I should let you go then.”

Jimin watches as you gather your art supplies off his desk and crouch down to say farewell to the white puppy. He doesn’t say anything until your hand is on the doorknob. “You can tag along if you’d like, Y/N.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I really shouldn’t g-” Your eyes and mind drift away as the boy strips his shirt off with his back to you. You never knew back muscles could look like that—good to know for future reference. After he throws on a clean shirt free of dog fur, however, you push the boy’s toned body out of mind to finish your sentence. “I shouldn’t go since strip clubs aren’t really my thing, remember? Besides, I need to work on this art assignment some more. It’s due in a week.”

“A week is more than enough time,” Jimin raises his eyebrows at you and your sketchbook. “And do I need to remind you that the strip club is where you found art inspiration in me? So it couldn’t hurt to go again, right?”

You don’t answer him because you feel like it could hurt to go again. Not in regards to your art, but to something else.

“If you come, I’ll treat you to something really special afterwards. How about that?” He holds out his hand, giving you one last chance to change your mind. The special treat is tempting, especially if it’s your favorite sweet dessert. Besides, you’ve been working diligently with your art, so you know you’ve earned yourself a treat of some sort. And if Jimin is thoughtful enough to offer you that treat, who are you to refuse?

After a back and forth debate in your head, you finally take his hand and allow yourself to be pulled back to the place where you and the boy first met.

“What’s this special treat you’re talking about?”

“Oh you’ll see,” the boy snickers in a rather sinister tone.

Something about the strip club has changed since your first visit. There are still attractive strippers, there are still generous tippers, and there’s still your favorite spot in the secluded corner of the room. But it’s the whole vibe that’s changed. You don’t feel as intimidated by the sweaty bare bodies of the strippers or the thirsty screams of the audience. It could be because, unlike before, you know you’re not alone this time.

Jimin sits you down at your favorite spot and waits for you to get all situated with your sketchbook. “Can I buy you a drink before I have to go get ready for the show?”

“Just some water, please,” you say. The boy only laughs at your innocent response before disappearing into the crowd to fetch your requested beverage from the bar. After a short minute, your eye catches him striding back with a fancy glass of ice water in hand. He isn’t doing anything special, but he still manages to look stunning amongst everyone else. You even notice he’s turning quite a few heads, despite all the on-duty strippers vying for their attention. It’s as if the spotlight’s on him.

“Y/N, you’re already drooling and I haven’t even performed yet,” he teases as he hands you your water. You chug it down, hoping to relieve your thirst, but it’s not enough.

“Then go,” you give him a light shove with a hmph to send him off. “I’ll be waiting for my special treat afterwards.”

“Anticipate it, Kitten.” He has the audacity to not only call you Kitten, but also give you the cockiest smirk you have ever witnessed before heading backstage. You suppose that’s just his flirty stripper switch turning on.

Once you finally have some time to yourself, you sip on your water, casually people-watching from your quiet corner. The rest of the room is flooded with excitement, flashing with sparking lights, a mixure of moving color. If you had to pick a color palette for a strip club, what would it be? That depends on whether a certain boy is in the room or not.

You glance over to a familiar mint-haired stripper getting intimate with a gorgeous female in a nearby booth. She bites her ruby red lips, snaking her arms around his waist and pulling him closer to slip a generous handful of cash into his ass pocket. As thanks, the stripper hovers over her lap with swaying hips to the beat of the stereo as he lets her hands explore his bare upper half. Their eyes are locked, exchanging looks of… lust? Satisfaction? Greed? As a mere bystander, you’re unsure of the mood, so your color palette would be a rainbow muddled with a lot of grey area.

“Oh I remember you, Baby Picasso.” The mint stripper somehow made his way over to your corner while you were busy swatching your palette. The nearly blank page in your sketchbook catches his eye. “Here to draw our Jiminie again?” Yes.

“Not necessarily,” you say. “But he was the one who brought me back here.”

“Ah, customer loyalty at its finest,” he nods. “That kid attracts most of our regulars.”

“Is he really that popular?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the aura’s different when he’s on stage.” He leans over your table and points at your grey-toned swatches in the corner of the sketch page. “Doesn’t it feel like the club becomes more… vibrant when Jiminie’s around?”

“It does, doesn’t it,” you press a finger to your lips as the wheels start turning in your head.

“But don’t let yourself get too caught in The Jiminie Effect. Otherwise you might end up getting hurt.” The mint stripper shrugs at you before the arm of a bold customer swipes him away. “Let me know if you ever want a taste of The Suga Rush, Baby Picasso~”

You wanted to ask what he meant by “getting hurt” from Jimin, but you’re pretty sure you already know. Jimin is an incredibly charming boy with a way of captivating an entire room, and you’re happy he’s found success as a popular stripper. That being said, you can’t help but also feel a little disheartened that there are so many others who share the same feelings for him.

Regardless, you’re at the strip club to support Jimin and collect the special treat that he promised you. Surely your relationship with the boy holds a bit more weight than the others. So you decide to get out of your own head.

Scarlet red. That’s the color you see when Jimin comes out onto the main stage with a silky red blindfold covering his eyes. The first thing you think is: wow, how the fuck is this guy not tripping or falling off the stage when he can’t even see in front of him? The second thing you think is: tiddies.

His open blazer flashes his nipples (and the rest of his gorgeous chest) as he graces the stage. It honestly looks more like a sensual take on contemporary dance rather than stripping at first. Even his hip thrusts have a flare of elegance to them. After all, Jimin’s a contemporary dance student, but the way he incorporates such a graceful genre of dance into his stripping performance shows how much of an artist he truly is.

But once the blindfold comes off, so does everything else. Jimin’s killer gaze, in addition to his taunting tongue, earns him a shower of bills on the floor of the stage as his performance comes to a close. Unlike the other strippers at the club, he does not interact as closely with the audience or make his rounds through the room. Instead, he makes a proposal.

“Tonight, I’m doing something a little different.” He picks his blindfold up off the floor and strokes it as he speaks to the audience. “I’ll be giving one lucky person a private lap dance and-”

An eruption of screams fills the room along with a surge of money being waved around before Jimin can even finish his sentence. He waits for everyone to quiet down, but the aroused crowd does the opposite. The rowdiness persists because everyone’s trying to be louder than the person next to them in order to catch their favorite stripper’s attention. That must be The Jiminie Effect.

And although the boy never got to finish his explanation, you assume the private lap dance has something to do with the red blindfold in his hand and will most likely be given to the highest tipper. Lucky them, you suppose.

Rather than throw some of your nonexistent money at the boy, you instead take the opportunity to do some quick sketches of Jimin’s contemporary performance while it’s still fresh in your memory. You want to capture his fluid motions and his undying passion for performing. With all of this and the blindfold in mind, you decide on a color palette. Scarlet red, a color of burning passion and sensuality, is an obvious pick. However, there’s another color you wish to incorporate-

When you take a peek back up at the stage for that other color, you’re surprised to see Jimin staring right at you, despite a huge sum of money being waved right in front of him by an expensive-looking woman. He mouths something for you to interpret.

“You,” his lips read.

“Me?” You don’t exactly know how to feel about the situation, but it doesn’t sit well with you. “Not me.”

He nods at you, still wanting it to be you.

You shake your head to end the conversation, but when people start turning around in your direction to see who has Jimin’s attention, you get up from your seat. Not to take Jimin up on his offer, but to excuse yourself from the club. You dislike strip clubs after all.

Back at your dorm, you sit at your desk, fleshing out some of your sketches of the blindfolded Jimin. You sculpt out his toned body and shade in a vibrant red flare to emphasize his illuminating aura on stage. Even then, your sketch is missing something. You’re missing something.

Knock. You check the time on your clock. It’s just past midnight, right around the time you’d assume strip clubs close for the night.

“Hi-” Jimin tries to say, but you close the door as soon as you open it.

Knock. You don’t open the door this time, so the boy starts talking from the other side.

“Y/N, I know you’re mad at me, but I-”

“Of course I’m mad at you,” you make a tsk sound. “I can’t believe you were going to choose me over all that money in front of you. Didn’t you see that Gucci lady at the front waving the wad of cash with your name on it? You almost gave up all that money for me. Fool.”

There’s a pause of silence before Jimin tries another attempt at getting you to open the door. Knock.

You open the door this time. The boy has a puzzled expression on his face.

“Wait, you’re not mad that your special treat went to someone else?” He blinks at you.

“A lap dance was the special treat you were talking about earlier?” You give him a duck face because you’ve made a grave mistake. “I thought we were getting ice cream or something.”

“Uhh well… we could get ice cream if you really want to? But my intention was for you to take that lap dance. It was meant for you, you know,” he chuckles over his failed plan.

“I really didn’t realize it was meant for me… I guess I’m really that dense, aren’t I?” Now you feel bad for thinking you’d be getting ice cream over a lap dance. Jimin was only trying to show that you were special to him, and you rejected him like an oblivious idiot. “I’m sorry, Jimin. If I had known, I’d-”

“We can still do it if you’d like.” He pulls out a silky red cloth from his pocket. “Perks of having a stripper neighbor, right?” You nod.

Waiting on your bed, you watch as the boy tries to hype himself up with the blindfold in his fists.

“I can help you tie it behind your head if you want.” You hop up from the bed to help him, but you’re wrong again. He backs you up until the back of your knees hit your bedframe and your ass falls onto the mattress. Suddenly his thighs surround your lap and his abs are in your face. Thankfully he decided to keep his shirt on for this one.

“Can I put the blindfold on you?” He dangles the red cloth before your eyes. It was for you, not him. And as intimidating as it is to make yourself so vulnerable, you’re intrigued.

“Sure… but you don’t want me to watch you?” You take one last look at his seductive gaze and voluptuous lips before your eyes are covered by the soft yet very kinky fabric.

“It’s something new that I wanted to try,” Jimin speaks in his normal voice before switching over to a lower, more suggestive tone. “As an artist, you rely a lot on your sight, right? Well I’m curious to see which senses will come alive when we take away your sight.”

Right away, you sniff out an alluring aroma of warm spices with naughty undertones. The blindfold must be drenched in cologne, but why are you only noticing it now? Or perhaps it’s the boy’s own intoxicating scent that you’re being enticed by. Either way, you must really like the scent because your nose is twitching like a bunny to get a better whiff.

The aroma continues to grow stronger as you feel finger tips graze ever so slightly against the back of your hand. The chilling sensation tickles more than anything, but then the boy lifts your hands and places them right at his waist.

“Tug if you want me closer, Kitten,” he whispers into your ear to give you a taste of the closeness before leaning back. Naturally, your eager little fingers curl into the threads of his shirt and tug as suggested. There’s a smooth shift in the boy’s body hovering over you. The soft sounds of his clothes rustling give you an indication of how close he must be.

To put it in perspective, you decide it’s a good idea to paint a picture of the scene in your head. A gorgeous boy is performing a lap dance on top of you as you sit blindfolded on the bed. His hands are pressed into the mattress on either side of you, his hips roll in a fluid motion, and his body grinds against an invisible wall that separates his crotch from yours. The mere thought of being under him is making it difficult for you to sit still.

You tug again and recline your back for Jimin to follow. The seams of his jeans drag gently along your outer thighs. His hot breaths tickle the exposed skin down your neck. “Do you want to feel me like this?” No, you want more.

Your fingers stray away from the boy’s hips, following the paths defined by his toned abdominals. Even through his shirt, you can easily map out the structure of his muscles, so you flesh out the details of the visual in your mind. This is much more engaging and “hands-on” than an anatomy textbook, you nod to yourself. But there seems to be a missed opportunity if the shirt stays on.

“Can you take off your shirt? For scientific purposes only.” You surprise yourself with the bold request, but the blindfold has made you feel some type of way. Shameless.

“Are you sure all of this is purely for science? Because I see you’ve already spread your legs out for me.” You hear a shirt being tossed aside before the mattress suddenly dips with something solid between your thighs. You assume it’s his knee when he nudges it into your crotch. Whatever it is, it’s making your body squirm for more contact.

“Maybe it’s a little more than just, uh, science.” You attempt to maintain a sturdy voice, but it’s hard not to pant when you’re overwhelmed with a heat you’ve never felt before.

“A little?” He questions you as his knee digs further into that spot between your legs. Oddly enough, you’re quite satisfied with the hot sensation created by all that friction, and you hope it doesn’t stop. “I think you’re more than a little wet down there, Kitten.”

“Oh,” you try to say, but it comes out more like a weak moan.

And of course, as soon as you show any sort of evidence of pleasure, Jimin decides to stop moving without saying a word. He stands there silently, probably smirking at how turned on he’s made you. He has to be teasing you, and you have to admit it’s working.

With his knee still wedged at your crotch, you situate yourself more towards his thigh and squeezes your own thighs around him. Your hips start moving on their own by instinct to find any sort of stimulation. It’s starts off as modest rocking back and forth against his body. You try to be subtle about it, as if the boy isn’t aware of your intentions. Surely riding his thigh whilst rubbing your wet lewd scents all over him won’t give it away.

“Oh, that’s your kink?” He sounds rather impressed. Once you finally find a good method and pace fore stimulating yourself on him, however, he pulls his knee back. “Let’s switch places.”

Next thing you know, your ass is sitting on top of Jimin’s lap with your legs wrapped around his waist for support. Without even thinking, your body continues to pleasure itself against boy, grinding and yearning for the wonders of sex.

You’d paint yourself a visual of the scene at hand to make everything more vivid, but you don’t really want to know what you must look like in such a helpless state. In times like this, you’re thankful for the blindfold-

“I wish you could see yourself, blindly humping and panting like a horny little puppy.”

You freeze at Jimin’s vivid narration of scene, regretfully imagining it as told. “Can I take the blindfold off?”

Unsure of whether you want to continue or end the stripper shenanigans once the blindfold comes off, the boy swiftly removes the cloth from your eyes and blinks at you. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the bright lights of your room, but when they’re back to normal, you remain seated in his lap and blink back at the shirtless boy.

For as intimate and steamy as it was a moment ago, neither of you know what to do or say. It’s a comfortable silence, although you do feel a bit embarrassed for showing the horny little puppy side of yourself to your neighbor. Besides that, you’re content. Your body finally relaxes, loosening its hold around the boy’s waist.

When Jimin comes to the conclusion that the stripper shenanigans are over, he lets out a chuckle to break the silence.

“What?” you pout.

“Nothing!” He throws his shirt back on, but not before you catch one last look of his tiddies and blossom tattoo. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get ice cream?”

“What were you laughing about earlier?” is the first thing you ask after taking a lick of your ice cream.

“You’re not gonna let that go, huh,” Jimin sighs into his strawberry sundae. “I was just laughing at you. Is that a crime, Officer?”

“But why?” You’d think you were holding an interrogation at your local late-night ice cream parlor. The boy in question rolls his eyes.

“You know how chemistry students always have to wear goggles during labs?”

“Yeah and when they take them off, they have this funny red imprint around their eyes,” you recall your old days in chem class. “Wait, are you trying to say I had funny red marks around my eyes after taking the blindfold off?”

Jimin shrugs.

“And that was funny to you?” You want to be annoyed by his childish humor, but you’re more so relieved that he wasn’t laughing about anything that happened while the blindfold was still on.

“It reminded me of how you always say it’s all for science,” he says, carving out a spoonful of strawberry syrup off the top of his ice cream with such precision. You know what he’s talking about—it’s your infamous excuse for wanting to get closer to the boy.

“Is it a crime for me to indulge in my scientific research, Officer Park?” You lick the ice cream off your lips with a playful tongue.

“Only if you abuse it,” he points at you as if to evoke fear before softening his expression. “But in your case, no.”

“Good.” You swipe a scoop of the boy’s sundae right in front of his face. “I don’t want you to think I’m just using you for your body so I can pass my art class...”

“I know that’s not the case, Y/N. Otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered with the whole blindfolded lap dance thing.” Jimin points to your ice cream cone, so naturally, you let him have a taste of it. “Because what’s the point of a handsome stripper giving you a lap dance if you can’t see what’s going on?”

“To feel things that you wouldn’t otherwise notice if you were too distracted by a naked body dancing over you?” you start munching on the waffle cone. “And by ‘feel things’, I mean emotions, not sexual pleasure. Just FYI.”

“Right, because you totally didn’t feel any sort of sexual pleasure while riding my thigh,” he nods.

“Right,” you nod along with a pretty good poker face. He’s on to you, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing what effect he has on your body. “Thank you, though, for not one, but two special treats.”

“There could’ve been a third if we’d just kept going-”

“Anyway,” you say, pulling out your sketchbook to change the subject. “That lap dance did give me some new art inspo.”

“It was quite the experience for a human-to-human interaction, huh.” Jimin scrapes the last bit of strawberry ice cream, watching as you flip through your sketches of him until you reach the ones from earlier that evening. You have a new color to add to the palette.

“Mhm,” you say, shading in the same color of the boy’s ice cream, the same color that his blossom tattoo represents. “But what do you think about this human-to-human interaction?” You wiggle your index finger back and forth between you and him.

“You mean us chatting over ice cream?” he asks and pauses for a second to think. “I like it. It’s a lot less, uh, intense than some of the other things you and I have done. But I like that.”

“Same. I think regardless of whether you’re a half-naked stripper or just a college kid eating ice cream, the world becomes more vibrant with you in it.” You flip your sketchbook around for Jimin to see.

“You drew me as a Super Saiyan?” He’s referring to his wicked blonde hair and the reddish-pink flare that surrounds his buff body. “Super Saiyans do make the world a better place, huh?”

“My human anatomy could still use some work, but you get the gist.” You don’t know whether to laugh or be offended by his weeb reference. Either way, he has a smug look on his face, as if being drawn as a Dragon Ball character is something to take pride in.

“Somehow the abs look super realistic though…” He strokes his nonexistent beard. “I wonder how that happened.”

You have flashbacks to when your fingers outlined a whole ass map of each individual muscle hiding beneath his shirt. You suppose your mental map translated well onto paper. “Yeah, that’s weird.”

“Let me know if you’re ever in need of another anatomy lesson,” he hums. “For science, right?”

“For science.”

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts fanfic #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #bts imagines #jimin #bts #bangtan #blossom

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beautcous · 4 years

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Thread 01 (Halloween)

Halloween was a day Sydney absolutely enjoyed, not just because she had more clients demanding her services for their costumes but also because she loved the festivities that came with it. When she heard that this festival would be this year’s Stonehill celebration it was safe to say her excitement grew tenfold. She had just finished carving her pumpkin and was about to go search for her friends who were all scattered around the beach when she heard a group of girls let out such piercing screams which she was sure effectively shattered her ear drums. Sydney looked around to see what the commotion was all about but she didn’t see much only seeing a rather large crowd gather around a tall figure. A figure she was too far to recognize until she began walking closer in the direction of where the crowd was gathered.

By now she was about a few feet away when she realized the cause of the commotion, or rather who. Out of all the people she would have expected, she did not expect Ezra Meyer to make himself known at the event. The brunette could feel her heart rate pick up just a bit at the sight of him in the flesh, she’d only ever seen him on screens and magazines. She really wanted to go over to where he was and seeing him up close but the crowd surround him discouraged her. Any other time, she would have approached him but given what he had happened two weeks when her tweet going viral and then it being discovered and read aloud by the actor on television stopped her from going anywhere near him. Of course, there was chance he didn’t even remember it or her, after all the man probably got millions of thirst tweets from women all around. Or at least she had hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. Before she could make up her mind, she felt a figure ram right into causing a gasp to leave her lips. It was when she looked up did she see a drunken male stumbling and Sydney caught him before he fell over her.

The man snapped out of his daze a moment later when his eyes landed on Sydney and a rather creepy smile appeared on his face. His eyes raking over her small frame in what best could be described as a leer. Sydney rolled her eyes, stepping back when the man finally stood up right and she was about to walk away when the man took a hold of her arm. “Where you going honey? Stay and keep me company, it’s not everyday I bump into a pretty face like yours.” Her brows rose but she shot the man a annoyed look as she attempted to free her arm. Did he honestly think that would work? “Not interested.” She told him flatly, who did not know how to take a hint. “Come on, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time.” The man then stepped closer, his hand around her tightening a bit that had her wince at the grip. “Didn’t you hear me, I’m no interested, let me go or you’ll have a pissed off boyfriend to deal with. Pointedly looking at her male friend who was not too far but had not seen her yet, but that did nothing to deter this asshole.

It was a rather normal activity for Ezra; signing autographs for his adoring fans. He didn’t see the point in whining about it, not when the fans was the reason why he had such a successful career. They made him rich, and he couldn’t be happier to be in this situation. One thing he wished he didn’t have to deal with was the screaming. He never understood why some people would get so excited over another human being. That had never been him. He liked the band Red Hot Chill Peppers, and yet, would anyone ever see him screaming for them like a deranged lunatic? Hell no. That was just lame and he had too much pride to do something so ridiculous. Did he think he was above others in this aspect, no. Only because he believed that people should be free to express themselves. He wasn’t going to be a part of the pack though. Then again, that might be why he was who he was.

Ezra didn’t just stumble into wealth and fame. He’d been doing this ever since he was an infant. He started with baby commercials. You know, like in Gerber. Except he did it for a very popular brand of Formula. Then, as he aged, he started in on acting. The parts kept rolling in, and for the longest time he was being casted as a teenager, staring and co-staring in a bunch of teen rom-coms. He could blame that on his baby face. It was both a blessing and a curse. Once he reached the age of twenty-eight however, he pressed his manager into giving him more adult roles. That was when he was given the staring role in a Sci-Fi Trilogy. After just one movie, his popularity soared. Not that he wasn’t known before, he just got way more popular now. He would admit that his popularity came with a lot of clauses however. For example; it seemed like he couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized now. Everywhere he went, people knew him. It got so bad that he had to start wearing baseball caps and hoodies if he didn’t want the attention.

After what felt like hours of signing autographs and smiling while the fans took photos with him, he was finally done. His cheeks hurt–from all that smiling–and he was beyond exhausted. As he stepped down from the makeshift stage, intending to make his way back to his car with the two bodyguards that were in charge of his care; he heard a commotion, or rather a woman’s voice trying to ward someone away. Feeling the draw to see what was going on, he made his way over there–security pushing the throngs of adoring fans out of his way. What he saw, had him reacting before anyone could stop him. Grabbing the clearly drunken male by the collar, he moved him aside and said, “She said, she’s not interested, or are you hard of hearing?” His brows furrowed as he glared at the intoxicated man;–judging by the stench of alcohol permeating from his pore–after which the bodyguards took him away. Ezra then put his attention on the lithe brunette, who’s face seemed all too familiar. Where had he seen her before? He wondered, yet instead of dwelling on the matter, he chose to focus on whether or not she had been hurt. “Are you okay, Miss? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He spoke to her gently, not wanting to scare her even further.

Sydney recalled the very first time she’d see him on television and she had no idea what it was but she could feel this pull towards him. Why such was the case, she had no clue. Since then on, the brunette had followed all of his work tuning in each time his show was on and then to the various other projects he had accomplished in his career. Perhaps her most favorite thing to watch was his on screen interviews, and she had to admit the man definitely had a good sense of humor. Sydney had no clue what it was about Ezra that was so riveting but she couldn’t deny her curiously or her intrigue towards the actor. Of course, there was also the fact that he was perhaps the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Unfortunately, any nerve she may have gathered to approach him now went right out the window thanks to the embarrassing tweet she had posted. There was absolutely no way she’d risk him knowing who she was, she supposed it didn’t matter since she had decided against meeting him anyway. Disappointment pooling in her stomach but she quickly squashed it as she began hunting down her friends.

She had only taken a few steps when a drunken idiot stopped her path and came onto her quite aggressively and for a moment a spike of fear washed through her. Normally, she knew how to handle men who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. This bastard was about twice her size and had her arm in an iron grip that each she attempted to tug it loose, his hand only tightened in response causing her to wince at the pressure. Her empty threat that her boyfriend was around had done nothing to deter the man who leered down at her. Sydney then attempted to shove him with her free arm but he barely budged and just as his arm was about to snake around her waist, she saw a hand grab the bastard off her and freeing her arm. She hoped she didn’t look as scared as she had felt in those brief moments but her racing heart didn’t slow because it was then she finally caught the face of her savior. Ezra Meyer. She had to fight to keep the shock off her features but she supposed her fear was doing an excellent job of masking her shock. It took her a few seconds to finally get her brain to work as she realized she was just staring at him while he inquired about her well-being.

Thanks to the incident moments before, it seemed to place her fear of being recognized behind her more so when he stared at her only with concern. Hearing the gentleness in his voice did ease her earlier fear a bit, and she nodded. “I’m fine. A little bruise but nothing that won’t heal.” She said her hand covering the red finger prints the man’s grip had left. Sydney then cleared her throat and gave the actor a small grateful smile, “I can’t thank you enough for showing up when you did. I owe you one, can I buy you a drink or something?” She paused then, realizing how that sounded, “I’m not hitting on you by the way..” Feeling need to add that bit in case he got the wrong idea.

Ezra had never done this; went out of his way to help someone in distress. Not that he was a selfish individual. It just never happened to him before. Now that he was standing before the lithe woman, who’s face still looked all too familiar, he couldn’t help but feel a draw to her. He couldn’t pinpoint where he’d met her before, yet he knew that he’d seen that beautiful face. Her features were distinctive; from those full ruby red lips, cute nose, eyelashes that went on forever, right down to her dark thick brows; he swore he’d seen all of that before. She couldn’t be someone who was loose of morals, the types who would sleep with celebrities, could she? Again, not that he did that often, though he did have his weak moments. What man in their right mind could resist a beautiful woman anyway? No one. Unless they were not into women, which he totally was. He plundered into the recesses of his mind, trying his best to find out if he could remember her face, but it was no use. He had nothing. Just as well. He obviously didn’t need the answer that badly. Otherwise he would have recognized her by now.

He’d just about to forget about it when she spoke. She was saying that she was fine, but judging by how fast she made the remark, he doubted that she truly was. “You sure?” He asked, needing for some reason that was unknown to him to make sure that she was indeed truly alright. “No need to thank me,” he shook his head, a friendly smile appearing on his features for her, “I would’ve done this for anyone.” Really? Nah, he didn’t think so. She just so happened to be lucky that he was around–with a security team. He didn’t regret it however. There was also the added bonus that she was beautiful. Okay, when he initially helped her, he wasn’t checking her out. He was doing what he should be doing, which was be a good Samaritan. Her beauty was simply an added bonus. “You don’t have to buy me a drink.” He added. It was her next statement that made him realize who he was talking to. “You’re her! That girl on twitter…” The words trailed off as he thought about the tweet of him that had gone viral. He didn’t remember what she said word for word, but it definitely had a lot to do with her undying love for him. “–So you have a crush on me, huh?” He queried, his hues dancing with mirth. “I don’t blame you. I’d have a crush on me too, if I were you…” And just because he was feeling playful, he shot the brunette a wink.

Out of all the people she could have imagined coming to her rescue, never did she think it would be Ezra. But then again she supposed she never imagined she’d even run into actor so maybe today was just a strange a day. If Sydney thought Ezra was beautiful on the screen then he was even more breathtaking in real life. As she stood watching him get rid of the creep who had grabbed her, her green hues studied his sharp features, her heart pounding from her incident withe the drunk man and now because she stood just about a feet or so away from the man she admired so much. Perhaps that was putting it too lightly, no, she was a devoted follower of the actor because it was not a big leap to assume that Sydney was absolutely bewitched by him. She realized just how pathetic her thoughts were regarding this man considering she barely knew him, but it still didn’t stop the thoughts that formed in her mind towards Ezra. There was something so compelling about the man that did nothing to ease her affection for the man.

So, despite her reassurance she still heard him confirm if indeed she was fine, Sydney dropped her hand and nodded. “Yes, really, thanks to you.” She told him sincerely just as she heard his next remark which had a smile curve her ruby red lips, her eyes alight and she didn’t know why but that comment pleased her quite a lot. “My hero.” She remarked jokingly, of course, hoping she wouldn’t say something so stupid in her nervousness. The make-up artist was really good with poker face which is why she hoped her nervousness at his mere presence wasn’t so evident on her features. Her relief of him not knowing was short-lived. It was his next words that shocked her a bit, green eyes widening slightly when Ezra had indeed recognized her from her tweet. It was perhaps that moment that Sydney wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. Or a massive wave would come over to the shore and take her with it, anything was better than standing here with a shocked look on her face as Ezra called her out on her embarrassing tweet she’d done on impulse. Her lips parted but no words came out as she tried to compose her features which she did a minute or so later, but she found herself looking away not quite finding the nerve to answer him. Sydney wasn’t sure how this would go because she never expected to him to find her tweet let alone run into him. However, what she hadn’t been expecting was the remark that followed after, the cocky tone in which he had delivered them and she wondered if he was mocking her until she met his gaze and saw the mirth gleaming in his eyes and then the wink. The brunette didn’t know what it was but that cocky remark irked her a bit, dare she say also disappointed her. Brow raised at him she spoke, “I’m still in shock that you read it and remembered exactly who tweeted it. And I wouldn’t say a crush, it was just a silly little thing..” Sydney told him neutrally, “Cocky aren’t you though?” She supposed it’s not so surprising, he was an celebrity after all. “And here I thought you were a bit more humble than that.” Her words a bit blunt, “I’m sure you get millions of tweets like those everyday.”

Perhaps teasing the brunette about her tweet wasn’t the classiest thing Ezra could’ve done. He should’ve been more of a gentleman, and yet, he was still human and things like subtly and being decent sometimes just slip past him. It wasn’t his intention to hurt her or be an ass, it was more of his way to lighten the mood a little. It might’ve rubbed her the wrong way though. Not that he could blame her for her reaction. He was being a total dick. He deserved nothing less. Her response had a smile stretching upon his features. Lithe in frame she might be, but there was something else that made her stand out; the woman had gumption. He actually admired that in her. Her question had him smirking, the memory of the very unfortunate tweet coming to the forefront of his mind. He could still remember it clearly, not word for word, but the icon of the person who’d made the tweet. Ezra remembered being mesmerized for a moment, feeling that it was too good to be true. Someone as beautiful as she was couldn’t possibly have a crush on him. He should be the one who should be holding those feelings, and not her.

One thing he would admit as he stood here, gazing down on her mesmerizing hazel hues, she looked even more beautiful in person than she did on that photo. Especially with ire burning within her irises, he swore he could stand here and just stare at her. Her remark had him blinking his eyes and focusing on her words instead of her pretty face. “I didn’t remember,” he admitted, his head shaking, the cocky smirk still holding its place, “what I do remember is your face. Those eyebrows of yours. How could anyone miss it?” Did that sound like a compliment or an insult? He meant well by it, yet he did have the tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, especially when it came to being around someone he might like. Not that he liked her or anything. Of course not… That would be ridiculous. “Cocky? I wouldn’t say that I was. I’d call it excessive confidence.” He stated this while shooting her a wink. Okay, this was getting weird. Why was he acting like this? “Hey, if I wasn’t humble, I wouldn’t have rescued you just now.” The words sprang forward rather quickly much to his surprise. And technically, he didn’t do much, he simply grabbed the guy by his collar and pulled him away. The rest was done by his security team. He didn’t miss the sharpness of her tongue. Clearly, she wasn’t amused by his behavior, and to be honest, neither was he. He didn’t even understand why he felt the need to act this way. This wasn’t like him at all. “Not from someone as beautiful as you.” He told her, this time he was being earnest. Never had he seen anyone so breathtaking, and he was in the entertainment industry…

It wasn’t that his approach had been horrible but a part of her surprise came from the fact that she hadn’t expected the man to make such an arrogant remark. Nor had she expected him to hit on her right after rescuing her, she just wasn’t used to such attention from a man of his stature. Men like him didn’t hit on women like her which is not to say that Sydney believed herself to be unattractive, she was aware of how attractive she was and was told so by both genders. It was just that she didn’t deem herself to be someone that would be hit on by a man who had no doubt been with stunning models and actresses in the entertainment industry. However, she wasn’t a complete twat to deny that she was flattered that Ezra seemed to notice her, whether he was sincere or not, that remained to be seen. Perhaps the silver lining in this was that Ezra while incredibly cocky, didn’t seem like the rude and snobby types that she had dealt with on set who looked down upon others that weren’t to their social standing. Her initial hesitance to approach him just minutes before he rescued her was because she was a bit afraid that he’d be exactly the rude type.

Ezra’s constant stare did unnerve her mostly because her body reacted very strongly to his piercing gaze. She almost guilty for the way she responding to his gaze because she was dating Lucia, a woman whom Sydney was incredibly attracted to and genuinely liked that she felt as she was doing something wrong by being attracted to this man. Well, it didn’t matter because as much as she admired him she had no intentions of dating him or anything. She’d met Ezra by chance and perhaps this would be the last time she’d ever see him and that might explain her body’s reaction. She simply was not used to being in the presence of an attractive man let alone being hit on by one. “Oh god, not you too..” She muttered under her breath, but of course he’d notice her eyebrows the one thing she despised about herself as a young girl because of the attention it drew, attention she also did not care for. “See, I can’t tell if your insulting me or complimenting.” She remarked pulling his leg for embarrassing her for a moment. However, that didn’t stop the brief amusement that flickered across her hazel hues nor did it stop the reluctant soft laughter that bubbled from within. She was amused by the words but she still wasn’t impressed, but then again Sydney wasn’t easily impressed by a pretty face and a few charming words. “You have a slick answer for everything don’t you?” Before shaking her head softly, and meeting his gaze, “Well, I would say rescuing me would make you a good Samaritan but I’m grateful nonetheless also thank your bodyguards for me.” His latter words however had her freeze for a moment, her gaze snapping over to him and dare she say he looked a bit nervous? Much to her dismay, butterflies swan at the pit of her stomach but she shook of the feeling of flattery and something else that rushed through her briefly. “Well….thank you.” Sydney then cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away to look over his shoulder, “Though I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true. I’ll be honest I’m not sure what you’re trying to gain by all the compliments. I do feel like I should clear up something, I don’t have a crush on you. That tweet was just a mindless thought, with that said, I do however think you’re extremely talented in your work.” Now that bit was the truth, she enjoyed watching Ezra on screen no one could deny that.

Ezra would never dare insult a woman, especially not one that was as bewitching as she was. It wasn’t just her beauty either, it was everything about her. From the bold tweet that he read right down to the way she wasn’t afraid to talk back to him. Most ordinary people, women especially, would gawk at him, and react as though he walked on water. Not this one. She knew exactly how to put him in his place, and maybe it sounded weird to others, but he admired that about her. The urge to get to know the spunky beauty was almost overwhelming, and normally he would be a little smoother in his delivery, yet with her, everything that came out sounded wrong, as though he was trying too hard, or worse yet, as if he’d never been around a beautiful woman before. He had. Of course, he did. However, none of them made him feel this need; the pull to want a little more, to get to know how her mind ticked. He’d been drawn to her even before he ever laid eyes on her personally–thanks to her mishap on Twitter. Now that she was here, there was no way he was going to allow her to slip through his grasp. One way or another, he would see her again; preferably on a date setting. For some, he might be too sure of himself, or even cocky, but that was just how Ezra’s mind worked. He didn’t give up, especially when he wanted something. He would chase after it until what he sought after was finally his.

A sheepish smile formed across his features, and he let out a chuckle at her remark. Despite knowing that he shouldn’t have noticed, he did. Perhaps she was a little self conscious about her eyebrows, which she honestly shouldn’t. They were beautiful, just like the owner. Her eyes were what drew him in to begin with. He almost felt as though her irises were trying to tell him something. What. He didn’t know, but he knew that he wasn’t going to stop until he unearth the reason behind the draw he felt for the woman. “Yes, me too.” He told her, the gentle smile still displayed for her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it as an insult. You have very beautiful brows, and eyes.” He finally explained, not wanting her to think that he was teasing her, because he truly meant to compliment her. Though he felt like an idiot for his faux pas earlier, at least he’d tried to make amends, therefore, he wasn’t that big of a tool. Well, at least he didn’t think so. When she called him slick, he had to laugh it off–nervously. God, what was this woman doing to him? He was Ezra Meyer, he didn’t get nervous… “I don’t have a slick answer. Sometimes, my tongue gets away with itself.” He tried to reason, though he didn’t know why he even felt the need to do so, he simply felt that he had to. Odd. “No, I was here so I helped. I’ll let my guys know that you’re grateful for their help.” He smiled at her as he spoke those words, his head tilting a little as he saw her reaction changing. Ezra might not have been an expert, but he could’ve sworn he saw her blush. She looked radiant like that, and he wanted to see a little more of that blush. “Really? So are you telling me that you do this to other actors as well, tweet that you have a crush on them even though you don’t?” He clicked his tongue afterwards, and then continued, “It doesn’t sound that you’re telling me the truth here, but thank you for the compliment. I’m proud of my work, and it’s good to know that others enjoy my acting as well.” He was mostly joking around, trying to make fun of the situation, and he hoped that she caught that by the way he was smiling down at her.

This entire exchange she was having with Ezra seemed so surreal because celebrities weren’t supposed to be like this. Especially not handsome men like Ezra, they were not supposed to stand around and give this much attention to a normal person they just happen to run into by accident. This was perhaps what threw her off for a bit, more so when he outright complimented her and then point the one thing he liked but she was very self-conscious of. Perhaps what puzzled her more was the way he kept gazing at her, as if he were waiting for something but what she didn’t know. She would never vocalize her attraction to him but she wouldn’t so dense as to deny it to herself. Then a smile curved his lips and Sydney found herself watching the brief action with utter fascination before she realized what she was doing and snapped out of it. Her heart still running ahead of her as she tried to calm it, keeping her features composed she spoke, but she was sure her cheeks definitely gave her blush. “Thank you, but why I do have a feeling you say this to a lot of girls?” Referring to eyes compliment he bestowed upon her. “If you are tying to hit on me, I can tell you right now I’m not interested.” Her words weren’t harsh, rather they were a matter-of-factly. An amused smile curved her own lips when he admitted to letting his mouth get the best of him, the sheepish look on his features made him look…normal. “Hmm, you could have fooled me. Especially with the crush comment you delivered oh so cockily a few moments go. But I suppose with a face like yours, you’re used to a different response from women.”

Ezra had caught her there, and she wished the group would open and swallow her whole once more because the man made an excellent point. Sydney didn’t go around sending tweets to other male celebrities she admired, at least two the kind she had sent to this actor. The brunette could feel her face heat up once more and she cursed at herself for being so affected by this man whom she barely knew and had no interest in pursuing. But as she stood and continued to indulge him, Sydney felt that familiar pull towards him as she did every time she saw him on screen. “I guess you’ll never know, won’t you?” She paused giving him an easy shrug, “Maybe I do, would you be offended?” She asked madly curious and raising a brow at him but of course she didn’t except an answer more than she was trying to take the spotlight off her. “Even if i’m not being truthful, it doesn’t matter, now does it?” She didn’t give him time to reflect on that before giving him a small smile, “You should be proud, I think I speak for a lot of people when I say we enjoying watching you.” She could see the humor in his eyes as she stared back at him, “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you by here among us?” Gesturing towards the festivals.

It was rather astonishing to hear her conclusion of him. Of course Ezra wasn’t at all surprised that she would think of him as nothing but a player; he did came onto to her strongly. He wasn’t at all however. Although, he was friendly, he mostly liked keeping his personal life private; and it wasn’t because he had a hoard of women waiting in the wings to date him either. He just liked to keep certain things private. Hence the reason why there had been no sightings of him out on dates. He preferred it that way. Plus, if he was being honest, he never did understand why people would believe that he had a reputation of being a player; that was far from the truth. In the past year, he’d only been on one date and even then, it was more of a friendly get together. He didn’t see the point in dating anyone when he should be waiting to meet his soulmate. Besides, work kept him busy enough, he didn’t need to be in a relationship to fill a void that he never felt. Although now that he was standing before this beauty, he wondered that maybe she could be his other half. It might be possible seeing as he was so drawn to her. “I don’t say it to all the girls. Only you.” Which wasn’t a lie. He didn’t make a habit of hitting on women, he was just drawn to her. Seeing her sweetly smiling at him, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to get to know her even more. The need was intense; the pull too strong for him to deny. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound cocky. If I may be so bold…” He paused then, stepping an inch closer, eyes locking with hers. “–I find you refreshing.”

There was a change to her demeanor, and he could’ve sworn that she’d blushed. A part of him felt bad for possibly embarrassing her, but a bigger part of him was rather glad to see that he could silence her. It was only an added bonus to be able to gaze upon her while she thought of her next retort. His brows rose then, a half a smile forming on his lips for her sassy response. “I could investigate, you know. It’s not that hard.” He returned, though he kept his tone light to make sure she knew that he was joking. “It matters to me. I like feeling special.” There was no way she couldn’t tell that he was freely flirting with her now, even someone who was daft could tell by how he was smiling at her. If that wasn’t enough, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her either. His gaze was stuck on her beautiful face the whole time; mesmerized that someone so gorgeous was in his presence, bantering back and forth with him. “Thanks. That’s why I do what I do.” This part made him feel a little awkward, though he loved his job, he didn’t do it for the fans, he did it for himself, because he enjoyed it. It boggles his mind still that people actually enjoyed his craft. “I was signing autographs. It makes it easier to do it in Stonehill seeing as I live here.” He answered her question without hesitation. “What about you? Are you here for the festivities or did you come to see me?” The last question made him chuckle, it also spoke of his intent; that he was simply joking around with her.

Sydney knew she making far too many assumptions considering she barely ever spotted Ezra with many women. If he was with them, he was one the few who was skilled at keeping his life private in that sense. Sydney almost hated how curious she was to know what sort of history he had with women but she also quickly chided herself because she had no business or the right to even wonder such a thing. Yes, she had a bit of a ridiculous crush on him but that hardly translated into feelings for interest not when she was dating a lovely woman herself. So when she had somewhat accused him of saying the same words to other women, her green hues had no missed his slight look of surprise. Still, despite her best efforts that compliment coming from Ezra who’d seen his fair share of gorgers women made her smile nonetheless. “You don’t, hmm, is that right?” She asked quirking a brow as her eyes gleamed and why she was standing around and flirting? with him, the brunette had no idea. Her eyes were still trained on him, mostly in a curious manner as if he were a puzzle she was trying to piece together. It was then noticed him taking a step closer whilst he spoke, and she felt her breath catch when their eyes locked. She was stunned to see that intense look in his piercing eyes that almost left her breathless. Partly hating herself for reacting the way she was just because he happened to flirt with her a bit. But his words had sent her heart into yet another frenzy that she couldn’t think of one witty remark to make that was her usual response to this sort of thing when she was flustered. “You’ve been bold since the moment you approached me.” She managed to slip out, her lips twitching a bit, “And you don’t strike me as the type to be…uncertain.” His voice softer than he had been just minutes ago.

Sydney could stand there and continue to deny it to herself but whether she liked it or not, she felt completely drawn to him. She only wished she knew why she was, she’d met dozens of celebrities she was fond of but none of them had her reacting this way as she was towards Ezra. However, for once she was stunned into silence by his words and a part of her wondered if this was all a figment of her imagination. But the way her body was responding and her heart was pounding, she knew this was very much real, that Ezra was in fact hitting on her. Worse of it, Sydney was liking it much to her dismay. If she had any doubts of his intention, well, they were all clear now as she felt the weight of his gaze on her and he refused to look away with let her more flustered. Her lips curved into an amused smile at his quick response, “You could but that would be very ungentlemanly of you, unless you aren’t a gentlemen?” She trailed off forgetting for a moment she wasn’t supposed to be flirting back with him. She knew he was jesting from his tone, before she laughed at his next words. “Ezra, you’re a hot shot actor with billions of fan. How much more special could you want to feel? I’m just one fan among throngs of them and one you barely know and came across by accident.” She explained with a slight shrug, “I’m sure your fans make you feel special every day. Ignoring how conceited you sound right there.”She let him see her amused smile so he’d see she was also pulling his leg in return. She nodded, “I’m sure thats not the only reason why you do it. You love it, don’t you? Acting, stepping into different roles that challenge you. You look like sometimes you forget there are cameras surrounding you.” She murmured mostly to herself that she wasn’t sure if he’d heard that. “That it does, you sure seemed to make the kids happy.” Gesturing to the several kids that walked by and stared at Ezra which had Sydney smiling before she heard his latter words and shook her head. Her nose pinching up a bit, “As I thought, you are far too arrogant for your own good. I should tell you, I didn’t know you’d be here so you can imagine my surprise and then my embarrassment when you recognized me.” But Sydney laughed along with him. “It’s been….interesting chatting with you….”

Ezra had never allowed himself to let go like this. Although he’d dated in the past, his affections were not freely given. It was as though there was something pulling him back and telling him that the women in his past were nothing but people he could have fun with. There was no bigger plans written in the horizon for them. Sydney was different however. The draw he felt for her was so strong, he was nearly rendered speechless by it. It made him wonder then, if maybe she was his destiny; his other half. He wasn’t a cynic, and believed in soulmates; even if he wasn’t actively searching for his, he knew that he would someday cross paths with the person who was born to complete him. He simply had faith that it would happen. “No, I don’t. You’re just special.” He reiterated, his hues still lingering with hers, hoping that she could sense his sincerity. Perhaps the bold way he came on to her was a tell. It might be his own subconscious telling him that he might’ve found his match, because he honestly had never been this way with anyone. “I know I have been, and I should apologize, but at the same time, I don’t think I should be.” He returned, his voice clear and concise, not allowing room for Sydney to mistake his intention. His body language, the way he spoke, everything screamed that he liked her. “A human being is allowed to be unsure of things. On the other hand, I’m very sure of how I feel.” Feeling bold for some odd reason, he reached out and tucked back the hair that was flowing in the wind.

Ezra’s fingers lightly grazed Sydney’s skin as he pulled his hand back, and even with such a slight action, he could feel her softness marking him, daring him to touch her once more. It was as if she was a Siren, leading him to his doom, even though he didn’t feel the least bit worried that she would be his downfall. If anything, she could probably make him shine even brighter. “Lucky for you, I am a gentleman, otherwise I might just snoop around to find out more about you.” He could still do that, hire a private investigator to unearth the mysteries about her life that he wanted answers to. But he wasn’t going to go down that route. If he was going to find out about her, he would have to do it the old fashioned way, by asking her. “Do I actually have billions of fans? I don’t think so. I guess I must be greedy when it comes to you.–Just so you know, I don’t believe in accidents. Destiny, now that I believe in. Perhaps this is just Destiny’s way to tell me something…us something.” He tilted his head down a little, allowing his face to inch even closer to the beauty. God, he was definitely smitten by her. If only he could convince her to go out with him, that would make him even happier. “I don’t pay attention to them all that much. You however, I could pay attention to for a long time.” He returned with a shrug, now biting on his bottom lip a little as he continued to gaze upon her beautiful features. “I do what I can. Signing autographs is part of the job, right? Without them,” he nodded at the hoards of children and people in general, “I wouldn’t have a job.”He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that he could do this without help, and made sure to always show his appreciation in any way he could. “I do love it. I wouldn’t be doing it for so long if I didn’t love acting. It’s like you said, I get to act out different characters. It’s really interesting.” He agreed with her assessment wholeheartedly. Acting might be mere entertainment for some, but for him, it was art, a way to express his creativity, and he was glad that Sydney understood that. “What? Me arrogant?” He gasped, feigning surprise, “I could never behave that way. I always want to be charming with you.–It’s been interesting to meet me? Is that your way of saying that you want me to get out of your face?” The thought of having to leave her so soon left a hole in his heart. He didn’t want to have to do that, but if he must, he might as well ask the question that has been itching to come out. “Would it be bold of me to ask for your phone number?” He sounded unsure as he posed the question, afraid that she might tell him no.

It had been such a long time since someone had complimented her so well, whether Ezra was serious or not was another thing it didn’t change the fact that she liked what she heard from him. Which made her feel a bit naive because his attentions were fleeting right now she might have caught his eye but she was nothing more than a passing fancy. Maybe he was curious but how long would she be able to hold his interest? Not for very long, not when there was a sea of fascinating people right in the entertainment industry. It was what made it easy for her to humor him while he flirted, sure she flirted back but not to the extent that he seemed to be. So, then why in the world was her heart racing? She chalked it up to being star-struck but this man certainly had an uncanny ability to make a woman feel so special. She tried not to focus on the way his eyes lingered on her, oh, he was really good at this. “No, I don’t think you’d be sorry neither should you be. Nothing wrong with being bold.” She told him sincerely, there was no rule against it. It was his next words that caused her to move her gaze to him, silently watching as he stepped closer and brushed her hair back. “How you feel. How do you feel anything? You just met me.” She countered, wanting to move back from his rather intriguing touch but somehow her body would not move.

His touch had been light but god she had felt the sparks of it across her entire cheek, causing it to tingle. God, she had to resist the urge to shut her eyes and lean into his touch but her embarrassment stopped her from doing anything. Sydney cleared her throat but still her feet would not move to step away from him and she felt the heat of his body slowly transfer over to her. Tucking her own hair back she met his gaze once more, ensuring her features remained neutral lest he see her flurry of emotions. Her eyes widened slightly at his confession, lips parting once more but no sound came. It took her a split second to realize he was jesting but her heart hammered once more against her chest. “Lucky for me indeed.” she murmured not quite sure what to say to that before she heard him continue and remained silent because for once her witty remarks were failing her. She’d never been in situation like this nor was she used so such attentions from anyone, let alone Ezra. “I didn’t know you believed in all of that. Its charming though, and it a bit strange hearing it from you just as strange hearing you say you want my attention.” She would be lying if she said she did, because when it came down she believed in no such thing. She believed their encounter to be nothing more than a coincidence. She wasn’t a cynic per say but she was not a romantic either but somehow she sensed Ezra was which made her admire him even more for some inexplicable reason. Why that little appealed to her, she did not know. “I don’t know what its trying to tell us, other than coincidences happen on occasion. As for paying attention to me, I really wish you don’t.” She told matter of factly, meeting her gaze to show him just how serious she was of her words. She felt like a bitch for sure, but Sydney wanted no such attention for this man mostly because she hated how she was responding to it. How drawn she was to him and it scared her beyond belief. It scared her because if he wanted to, he could easily make her do as he asked. She could not allow that.

Sydney nodded when he began speaking about how much he loved his work, she could see that passion in his eyes for what he did and it make her like him even more. Whereas people went into the business for fame, Ezra didn’t and she had so much respect for people like him. She respected people who respected that art of acting that it was so much more than looking pretty on a camera and the fame that came with it. it was why it was such a pleasure watching on screen, because Ezra put his soul into his characters. “Your cocky but your also very humble, I guess I was a bit wrong about you.” She admitted, “It really is, and I can tell how you love it. I wish other actors had the same sort of passion as you do for your work.” She blurted out without really thinking it threw, “I mean, if only people looked at acting the way you did.” She quickly amended. A laugh left her lips at his innocent look and she gave him a amused look in return, “Arrogant but yes your charming, Ezra. I bet you make ladies fall in love with you left and right.” She teased before a chuckle left her yet again. She smiled at him secretly, not giving anything away, “Interesting, amongst other things.” Letting him make of that what he would. “I don’t mean to be rude but my friends will be looking for me” She then showed him her phone that was blown with text messages form said friends. “I can’t keep them waiting.” Then he asked her for her number and Sydney stared at him a bit confused, but this man was determined if not anything. “Yes, it would be but you don’t shy away from bold. I’m not sure thats a good idea, you seem to want something from me. I don’t know what exactly but I’m sure I can’t give it to you regardless….”

When Ezra woke up this morning, he didn’t know what the day was going to be like. He went about his daily routine; working out at his home gym, having breakfast, going about the day as if it was any other Halloween. His life consisted of work and more work. He hadn’t had a day off since forever, and he was fine with it; happy even. What he didn’t expect was for all of this to happen. Everyday, he would think about some crazy occurrence that had come to pass and today of all days, he remembered the tweet that Sydney had made; the one that made him take notice of her. He could still feel the regret bearing down on him for not having contact her back then. He had wanted to, but didn’t dare go against the advice of his manager. After all, he had an image to protect; at least that was the argument his manager made. He’d decided then that he needed to put the incident in the past and not think about the brunette with the striking eyes. That’s what he remembered calling her when he gazed upon her profile photo. Little did he know that their destinies was about to intertwine. Some call it coincidence, but Ezra knew better. Their meeting was Faith’s way of saying that she was supposed to be in his life; though he didn’t know in what capacity… Still, the idea of her being his other half lingered within the depths of his conscience. He couldn’t be sure of it until he kissed her–and he would kiss her someday, he was sure of it. His gaze drifted down to her full lips, his desire to kiss her was so strong, it took his breath away. Before he could allow himself to foolishly pull her in for a kiss, her forced himself to focus on the conversation or at least try to.

“I didn’t think so either. I think you might like me better because I’m bold.” Ezra responded, a cheeky grin feature upon his face. Her question didn’t even phase him, he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. There was just something about being around Sydney that felt right. “Sometimes, when you know, you just know…” He remarked rather cryptically; he didn’t have to know her to feel the way he felt. His feelings were just there. Could this be love at first sight? He wasn’t so sure if he believed that notion. Lust at first sight, sure… Everyone has experienced that, but this wasn’t like that. He didn’t want her physically, or at least not just her body–he wasn’t a eunuch, he had sexual needs too. This went beyond anything physical. He needed to know her, every fiber of his being was yelling at him not to let her go. His hues took her in once again, taking in her lithe figure and the way she’d cleared her throat. Could it be that he wasn’t the only one feeling this pull? Did she feel the sizzle of the slight touch he’d accidentally bestowed upon her? He wasn’t bold enough to believe in such a thing, and yet, once again, his mind wondered if maybe he’d been right all along, that she truly was his intended other half. “Come on, you can’t really call this a coincidence. What is the likelihood of you getting saved by the actor you so publicly say you have a crush on?” A brow arched as the question left him, though he really didn’t need the answer. “As for paying attention to you… I can’t help myself. It’s only fair after you’ve declared your undying love for me.” God, he sounded like such a jackass here, he knew that, but instead of apologizing, he shot her a wink and smiled. She’d already thought he was cocky, so why not just continue with the role, right?

Ezra’s grin turned into a full on genuine smile when he heard her complimenting him. It felt right to hear those words coming from her, as if her appreciation meant the world to him. And the funny part about all this was, he never needed anyone’s approval before this. He’d gone into acting because he simply love it, not because he needed people to love him. That wasn’t important, and yet, hearing Sydney’s compliment sounded like the sweetest of symphonies. It was an odd feeling, one he wanted to feel over and over if given the chance. “Thanks. I like to surprise people every once in a while. I suppose it’s not always bad to be cocky as long as there’s a humble side to a person.” He added on to her remark, still smiling brightly for her. “Some people get into acting for the wrong reasons. Those are the ones that get into trouble.” It was true, the ones that only wanted fame tended to get into drugs or whatever shit that would bring them to a downward spiral. It was rather sad really. “I don’t know about women falling in love with me. Most of them just care about me because I’m an actor or because they think I’m hot or whatever.” He waved a hand around to dismiss the topic; he didn’t want women to lust after him or fall for him for the wrong reasons, he would rather not have the attention. Again, he felt discomfort creeping into his heart when she made an excuse to leave, he wanted her to give him her phone number, but Sydney was resisting his request. He knew then not to push it, even if it pained him to walk away from her not knowing if he would ever see her again. “I’m not going to push for it. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” He was more than certain of that, he didn’t want to sound cocky, but there was no way they would’ve met like this if he wasn’t fated to be in her life in some way. “You should go meet up your friends before they really blow up your phone with their text messages.” He encouraged, smiling down at the lithe framed woman.When one of his bodyguards gestured that it was time for him to leave, he let out a sigh and addressed Sydney once more. “That’s my queue to leave. You take care of yourself, Sydney. I’ll see you again soon.” Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he took her hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it. “Till next time.” He hummed, gently released said hand and backed away from her. With a smile on his face, he headed back to his car with security surrounding him, already looking forward to his next meeting with the brunette with the striking eyes.

#sezra01 #ezra x sydney

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raynebowrayne · 5 years

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A new multi chapter Reylo fic where each chapter is comprised of a single dream that is based on a popular AO3 trope. Inspired by @reylo_prompts of Twitter!

Chapter 1 - ANGSTY CANONVERSE DREAM

Rey jerked awake with a start.

Dazed, she looked around at her surroundings in confusion. She'd been here before - not in a dream, but in reality - two weeks ago, in fact.

Turning her eyes to the crouched figure of Kylo Ren, who was squatted down in front of her - just as she expected him to be, she opened her mouth to ask what was going on but her words came out as, “Where am I?”

Though she could feel his matching confusion, through the Force - from the voice modulator of his sinister looking helmet came an almost too desperately inviting, “You're my guest.”

Gathering all of her will to demand to know what was going on, she opened her mouth and asked, “Where are the others?”

She found herself unable to speak while Kylo reiterated what he had said to her when this had happened the first time. Everything about this encounter was playing out exactly as it had before - except that she could feel his emotions rippling over her through the Force. His voice hadn't changed, it was slow, calm and steady, but his emotions were a dizzying swirl of confusion, anger, pain, and fear underpinned by the unmistakable sense that he was struggling to get control over himself.

Panic clawed at her insides and her desired response burned at her throat, but - though it wasn't what she wanted to say - the correct response sprang forth of it's own volition. "That happens when you're being hunted by a creature in a mask!"

She felt a spike of pain shoot out from him, but just as before, his head tilted slightly to the side, reminding her absurdly of a curious junkyard bird. As expected he stood and removed his helmet while a quick jolt of fearful helplessness radiated through her senses.

His eyes caught hers the moment the black and silver monstrosity was out from in front of his face. The arrogant expression left his face with remarkable alacrity and was replaced instantly with one of angry confusion, curiosity and a more than a touch of fear... matching the emotions she felt coming from him. He blinked then said petulantly, "I hate this!" Shocked by his own sudden outburst he jumped back a step and stumbled, breaking the eye contact. Recovering almost instantly, he stalked silently over to set his mask down before turning back towards her and catching her eye again.

His approach was almost wary, despite the churning storm of emotion in the Force surrounding him. His eyes never once wavered from hers while he blurted, “Forget the damned droid! Tell me why you went for the criffing lightsa-” His words ceased immediately as her eyes darted away from his.

Her mind spun. That wasn't what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to say "Tell me about the droid!"

"It's a BB unit with a selenium drive and a thermal hyperscan vindicator-" She responded involuntarily as she struggled to turn her head enough to look at him again.

"It's carrying a section of a navigational chart. We have the rest, recovered from archives of the Empire, but we need the last piece. And somehow, you convinced the droid to show it to you. You-" He broke off momentarily as their eyes met before he uttered in a bitter tone, that perfectly matched the wall of emotion that was so heavy it pressed her back into the nearly upright interrogation table she was strapped to, "You betrayed me."

"What? No, you betrayed me! You were supposed to turn back to the light!" Turning away she blinked away a sudden excess of moisture there.

His utterly arrogant, "You know I can take whatever I want." caused Rey's eyes to fly back to his where they caught and held. A flash of fear crossed his unscarred features before being replaced by a thunderstruck expression. “Don't look away.” He said quickly. “I can only say what I'm thinking when you're looking at me!”

Holding eye contact, Rey opened her mouth and spoke her own thoughts for the first time in this surreal encounter. “What is this? The Force? Or a dream?”

Rey glanced at his lips as he spoke but then her eyes bounced straight back to his causing only a momentary pause in his words, “Maybe… both?”

Sighing in frustration, she closed her eyes a moment, effectively preventing him from speaking so she could think about the situation. A sharp tingle deep in her brain had her snapping to attention as she realized her mistake just a moment too late. He had bowed his head next to hers, his gloved fingers barely brushing against the hair behind her ear. Wanting desperately to regain eye contact Rey tried with everything in her to turn her face towards him, but she was trapped, all she could move were her eyes but he wasn't looking at her as he spoke in a low, musing tone, "You're so lonely... so afraid to leave... at night, desperate to sleep... you imagine an ocean…" A slight smile flashed almost imperceptibly across his face as he raised his eyes towards hers.

The tips of their noses collided a split second after their eyes met as Rey was suddenly jolted free of what she was rapidly starting to think of as a set of puppet strings that took control over her mouth and body every time their eye contact was broken.

Pulling her head back as far as she could she gasped, “Could you…” noting the breathless sound of her own voice she paused to quickly gather her wits.

“Could you back up, please.” She requested much more firmly on her second try.

Despite her best efforts she wasn't able to pull far enough away from him to settle the fluttery, anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. A subtle hint of whatever soap or aftershave lotion he had applied this morning as well as the much more immediate aromas of caf, leather, and a warm muskiness that could only be termed as his own personal human scent permeated her senses, nearly robbing her of the ability to think.

“I'm trying,” He said, and she realized the decadently rich smell of expensive caf that she was detecting was coming from his breath as it washed over her face with every word. “but it isn't working. I think we're stuck like this until you tell me to get out of your head.”

She tried very hard to ignore the spikes and flutters in the Force that confirmed that the man beside her, who's face seemed stuck mere inches from her own, was experiencing every bit as much of the strange discomfort as she was in regards to their proximity - though his was threaded through with a fair amount of shame.

“Get out of my head, then!” She cried out almost desperately, refusing to think about the scents and sensations he was probably detecting from being so close to her.

“That didn't work.” He said a moment later with a wry twist of his lips and a tiny glint of something akin to amusement dancing his eyes. Eyes that, she couldn't help but to notice at this distance, were framed in thick sooty lashes and colored a deep velvety brown that faded quickly to a warm amber, which reminded her of the golden glow of candlelight, as his irises gained more distance from his pupils. The fluttering in her guts was joined by a heavy ache in her lower belly and a strange sensation a bit lower than that which made her squeeze her thighs tightly together in an attempt to prevent herself from squirming.

A mysterious and unidentifiable restlessness undershot with something akin to a mixture of desperate hunger and thirst slammed into her with the force of a howling dry-season sandstorm.

Slightly terrified by the sensations coming from him and more than a little annoyed at herself for noticing how pretty his eyes looked up close she speared him with a brief scowl then turned her head away and felt the sizzling tingle in her brain return. It only added to her annoyance that she hadn't even noticed the physical discomfort was gone until it returned.

“Get out of my head!” She growled and pushed back at him with the Force, willing him away from her.

His connection to her mind was severed as he jerked upright.

When their eyes caught again a moment later he continued to circle around to stand in front of her but allowed his outstretched arm to drop. “Thank you.” He said simply as the terrifying feelings slowly receded.

“Stay out of my head.” She ordered.

“I have no control when you aren't looking me in the eye!” he retorted almost sharply, then his voice and eyes softened, and the Force between them took on an air of melancholy. “Rey, why did you do it?”

“You ask me that after what you did on Crait?” She said bitterly.

“I was… upset.” He admitted, the usually pale skin of his face taking on a pinkish tinge.

"You killed hundreds of people because you were 'upset'?!"

"You left me…alone."

She stared at him hard for a moment. "You left me no choice!"

"I offered you the galaxy!"

"I don't want the galaxy!"

"What do you want from me?" He growled then raked both hands through his hair, somehow making it even more mane-like and beautiful, and threw his hands up in frustration - all without breaking eye contact with her. "I've offered you everything I have!"

Gritting her teeth against the waves of pain, anger, frustration, and sorrow - washing out from him through the Force - she said defiantly, "There is nothing - in this galaxy or any other - that you could give me that'd make me join the dark side."

"I didn't ask you to!" He snapped. "I asked you to join me!" His hand came up on the last word to thump himself in the chest. "I told you I was done with the dark side!"

"You did not!" She argued, raising her voice until it was just as loud as his - which was now almost up to a shout.

"I did too! Didn't you listen to me? I said it was time to let the Sith die! Sith are the dark side equivalent of the Jedi!" Pausing a moment to get ahold of himself so he could stop yelling, he forcibly lowered and calmed his voice. "I know - from what Snoke said after he stopped torturing you - that Luke told you he wanted the Jedi dead, too."

Rey stared at him in stunned disbelief. "The dark side calls itself 'the Sith'?"

Before he could answer Rey shot bolt upright in the darkness of her own bed chamber aboard Leia's newly acquired flagship. Gasping and trembling, from the effects of her dream, she fumbled around for a light source before remembering that all she needed to do was ask for the ship to turn them on for her.

"Lights, please." She said in a shaky voice then scrubbed her face with her hands. "Cripes, I hope that wasn't what I know that was!" She groaned into the empty room.

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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His Girl Tuesday {Part 1}

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Tuesday Adams x Billy Hargrove

[Prologue] [Series Masterlist] [Main masterlist] [AO3]

Series Warnings: This series will contain NSFW, Language, Drug use, horror themes, potentially gore and the occasional racist depictions (because it’s the 80′s people)

Words: 3k

Part One: Infectuous

The plastic bottle pressed between Tuesday's palms shook slightly. The trapped water inside, sloshing against the flimsy material that was pressed inwards -deforming with rounded indentations on contact with her fingers.

Tuesday felt numb to everything. The rapid pounding of her heart beneath her breast reduced to nothing more than a distant thrumming of white noise. The shake in her limbs transformed into a tingle of discomfort that refused to subside. But most notable of all was the outward silence.

There she sat, in a crowded, bustling mall. A dizzying panorama of people laughing, talking, arguing, chewing, stomping, and yet, everything was so distant. It was as though someone had turned the dial on her piece of junk television set and now static was the only thing blaring through the dust-covered speakers. Leaving only one voice to speak up inside her cranium. One confounded voice.

She needed to find her way out of this maze, she needed to return to the now.

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..." she counted idly by within the safety of her private thoughts. Savouring that one truth that still held true. Unless…

Tuesday pried her eyes away from the air bubbles trickling to the surface of the water bottle, placing her attentions on the group of kids across from them in the arcade, "She can't read minds can she?"

Steve drummed his fingers on his thighs, lips pursed in a half show of amusement and concern, "No," he replied. "At least, if she can, she hasn't told me about it. I don't typically ask too many questions. It makes it easier to hold onto my marbles."

Feeling redundant, Tuesday rotated the lid until it popped off and rolled away, devouring the contents of the plastic bottle as if she'd been tittering on the precipice of unquenchable thirst. It hadn’t helped. The liquid, though refreshing, didn’t freeze up her mind. She yearned for her action potentials to stop racing across her wired synapses so she could stop hearing the singular overlapping sound of her own voice inside her head. The voice kept multiplying into a cacophony, overlapping over itself again and again.

Steve ignored the meandering rivulet of water making its way from her mouth to the space between her breasts –moving awkwardly in his seat.

Tuesday wiped the cool liquid from her chin and the underside of her jaw using the side of her shirt -overalls half peeled off at the waist.

This was turning into the kind of day where Billy's proximity was sorely missed. His dominant nature made him an overwhelming persona to be around. It was demanding and dark, a crack in the universe that led to a solitary grotto away from everything.

Some days Tuesday felt as if she was viewing her entire life through neon coloured glasses accompanied by that electric hum that was always present, even in the dark recesses of her mind. Billy was her sedative. He kept her in a state of euphoria, an enticing escape from her woes.

There were two things that sent her over the edge, into that euphoric bliss she craved. One of them was Billy. The other was the smell of his cigarettes. Lucky Strike was his go-to brand, he always had a burning fag in his mouth at one time or another. It's bitter and oaky scents mixed into a heady blend when it diffused together with his musky aftershave. It was an intoxicating mix. A cheap odour that she'd grown accustomed to. And now she found herself scanning the crowd for puffs of smoke, looking desperately for that distinguishable red dot on a filmy white packet.

"Look, I don't mean to be pushy but..." Steve leaned closer. "What are you planning on telling your boss? About the freak accident you narrowly avoided? Heck, what are you planning on telling anyone, period?"

She almost didn't hear him, his gentle nature was a rarity to her, it didn’t demand to be seen, instead, it whispered. "Do you have a smoke?" she asked, her nails scratching at the mystery bruise on her arm.

Steve's eyes skittered about before he said, "Uhhh, n-no. I'm trying to lay off."

She hissed as she scratched at her scalp, ankles springing with pent up energy underneath the table. "Shit."

"Listen, I know all this can be overwhelming, believe me. But you have to promise to keep this a secret. She may have superpowers but she's just a kid, and all she wants is to have the same kinda life as any other regular kid," there was compassion in his words. The way his tone fluctuated from a serious whisper to a soft muttering informed Tuesday that Steve actually cared for those kids.

She wanted to listen, wanted to be wholly attentive, but she just kept searching for a white stream of cigarette smoke. Her mind drifted away again as he continued his plea: "And it's not just her life that would be affected either. I mean, Dustin, Mike, Will, Max, they're great kids and--"

"Wait, Max?" she careened her head. "As in Hargrove?"

"Y-yeah. You know her?"

"In passing. Why isn’t she here?"

"Sick with the flue apparently."

Tuesday's mouth stayed agape until she caught sight of a man with a moustache sucking in the air through the cotton filter of a cigarette bud by a clothing store. "Excuse me a minute."

She dashed from the table with a near-jog. Butting into the strange man's conversation to ask if she could bum a smoke. When she returned, she had a fully lit cigarette strategically placed under her nostrils so she could be bombarded by the smell. It wasn't Lucky Star, but it was a close alternative.

After a satisfied inhale, she turned to Steve, fully present this time.

"Well?" He pressed after she spent a whole minute just staring blankly at his face.

"Well what?"

"What are you going to tell your boss really happened?"

"Jack?"

He was confused by that, "I guess.”

She looked back at the kids all hovered around a Mrs Pac-Man arcade game. "People survive near-death experiences in inexplicable and miraculous ways all the time. Perhaps my guardian angel finally awoke from its slumber. Maybe it was divine providence. Though sometimes it's best to leave things unexplained."

Steve nodded a thank you in gratitude, stress leaving his face with a deep exhale. "Thank you, Wednesday."

"Tuesday," she corrected like it was second nature. "Wednesday Adams was the nickname Tommy H. and Carol gave me in high school."

"Oh," regret was present in his eyes.

"Ingenious, I know," she chortled sarcastically. "Don't sweat it. We were all a little screwed up in high-school. It's no one’s fault I was a little weird too."

She noticed him push back his hair, an old habit she would have swooned over had they been sitting at the same table two years ago -before Billy.

“Doesn’t make it alright,” he said.

“C’est la vie.”

He fidgeted, "I always wondered…" he trailed off, unsure if he should be treading over these particular eggshells.

Tuesday recognised that look. "If my name is somehow a rip off of a popular 60's television show?" she finished his unspoken question for him.

He nodded.

"No," she blew the miniature logs of ash off the table. "At least, I don't think so. My dad says I found my way to him on a Tuesday morning. He was never one for television. I guess it was just another stroke of divine providence is all." she joked flatly before standing from the table. "I'm beat and I feel gross. I'm gonna head out. And don't worry. I'll keep your secret."

Tuesday didn't have the energy to towel dry her long hair, the wetness of it made it look blacker than coal. Her head fell back onto her thinly stuffed pillow, the landing much harder than she intended. She could feel the moisture seep into the cotton pillowcase, but she was content with ignoring the coldness at her back so long as sleep came quick. And it did. She went out like a light.

***

Eyes filled with terror. A stench of copper and urine turning the air humid. Fear clung around opened sweat glands. A nauseating feeling upturning stomachs as Tuesday's vision was impaired by the spin of vertigo.

The unfamiliar room was a striking show of gestating entropy; shadows born from pale, sickly, yellow lights; dust covering every crack and crevice; the smell of gasoline and burning rubber ghosting off a rusted metal drum placed next to tattered and torn couches. This was a den. A derelict place of rest. And someone had claimed it as their own.

The lord of this domain sat on a leather chair, the whites of his eyes and the stained yellows of his teeth were the only thing visible about him. Tuesday stood under a circle of light that flickered out of beat.

"Who are you?" her voice came out distorted, a ringing echo that morphed into the voices of others –those she had heard whispered to her during the day.

He shifted closer to the light. No. It was more like the darkness had peeled itself back, like a cloud he could control hovering around his body. Even with the dark cloud pulled back, he was still enveloped in blackness. It was slick, wet. Like his body was drenched in tar.

That's when Tuesday realised that here, in this wretched place, he was darkness. From his aura, to the veins around his aqueous humors and the chipped off nail polish on his bitten down fingernails. He was void and Tuesday had unknowingly trespassed into his domain.

She was unwelcome here. The weathered concrete walls leaked of despair. Seeping out like a pustulous boil. It made her want to retch. But there was something else too. Something primordial and infectious rolling off his menacing presence. It snaked its way to her through the soles of her bare feet, veins turning black the higher up it climbed.

Tuesday was petrified in fear as this unwelcome sensation burned at her toes and her ankles and her knees and her stomach until finally, it blocked out all the light in her eyes. She looked down at a materialising pool of oil and what she saw made her scream –only no sound came out of her. Her eyes, they were gone, replaced only by orbs of blackness. She was like him now.

His body turned to air and mistified off the couch, materialising a second later behind her, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes trickling off his pierced tongue. "It feels good, doesn't it? Rage."

She swallowed but her throat remained parched.

"Do you know why you came to me? Why it was so easy for me to worm my way into your pretty little brain?" He dug a fingernail into her temple, the pulsating vein turning dark, spreading like a stain. "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished. You can’t bear it for a moment longer."

He appeared a mere inch from her nose now, his eyelids carrying the same epicanthic fold as hers. "Are you going to lie down and take it, like some weak, powerless, frightened little girl who's too afraid to leave her pathetic life behind? Or are you going to give in and do the one thing you've been thinking about since that car nearly crushed you?"

His words were a cajole to join him in his darkness. A temptation to embrace her baser instincts. An awakening of a vehement desire. A violent urge.

Now she was grinning, as he was grinning, their faces mirrors of each other.

"Atta girl," he praised before turning into mist and tunnelling down to her chakras through her nasal cavity and throat. And then she was burning, a fire burning through her flesh.

She was infected now.

***

Tuesday's eyes flashed open, but her body remained relaxed. It was noon, the sun still high up. She washed her face, noticing a dark purple outline encircling her eyelids. Then she grabbed her car keys off the hook, dropping the note that that was stuck onto the pinboard, stepping on it with her dusty boots. It went unread.

The sputtering sounds of her engine vibrated through the entire car. Tuesday set in in park, but kept the motor running. Sam and his brothers were welding off car door hinges, stripping it for parts. The red flashing signpost of their establishment blinked in the back, several bulbs blown: Carson Bros Metal Works and Junkyard.

One of Sam's brother's noticed her arrival, peeling back his welding helmet, "Yo, Sammy, we got a visitor."

Sam Carson was not the most refined specimen Hawkins had to offer, and that was about all Tuesday cared to noticed of him. His entire body stunk of sweat and burning, the tell-tale signs of leading a life that relied on scraping by. The smell stuck to him like flies over rot. All his foul persona was missing was that constant buzz that accompanied large house flies.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the beguiling Tuesday Adams," he snorted with a pinch of his nose.

Tuesday bit down on her teeth until they sent trembles up to her cochlear nerve. "Can you even spell beguiling?"

"Yeah," he leered, thumbs in his back pocket. "I believe it goes: B-E-Blow me!" He mocked.

Tuesday narrowed her eyes and he bent his pelvis so he could look at her at the same level.

"Can you even see when you squint like that?" his brothers let out huffs of amused noises and Tuesday balled up her fists. He noticed her fingers strain under her shaking fist and he held up his hands as though he were innocent of whatever feelings of antagonism she held towards him. "Oh, hey now. Don't get your knickers in a twist. We're just making light." He propped his frame on top of a newly salvaged JTO. "What brings you to my place of business?"

"Jack brought over the car-jack yesterday, he said you told him you fixed it." It was a statement, but it implied something else.

"Jack? I don't know no Jack. You must have your wires crossed honey," he leaned further back with a smug smile on his heat blistered lips.

"Your botched up job nearly cost me my life," she was seething now. "I nearly got crushed!"

"Yeah, well," he pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket, lighting it with a match. "I can't be held liable for any accidents that happen at other people’s businesses. It's not my fault your boss is a negligent cook. You get what you pay for, and he’s the one who wanted to play hardball. Take up your grievances with him."

Tuesday could feel that infectious rage swirl inside her, her breathing rising and rising the same time her knuckles turned white. She didn't come here to talk. In that moment, she knew exactly why she came here.

In a flash, her hand swung back as she planted her feet and powered her right hook into the unsuspecting Sam's cheek, his cigarette spitting out on contact. Her form was off, sacrificing technique for power and as a result, a cracking sound came off her proximal phalanges.

Sam was sent reeling into the dust, his brothers scattering to come to his aid and gang up on the very riled up Tuesday.

"You bitch!" He sucked on his split lip. "Are you fucking insane?"

He picked himself off the ground and in an instant of red, he struck Tuesday with a heavy open palm. She landed on the hood of the car, trading places with Sam, a gasp of air knocked out of her lungs. She massaged her jaw muscles and spun around to promptly kick him in the crotch. Her fists pressed to her cheeks.

Sam groaned, buckling to the floor again. One of his brothers rushed at her but was deterred from his path by a threatening Trans-Am almost ramming into him.

Billy got out of the car with flaring nostrils and a baseball bat.

"Get the fuck back," he growled as he strode over to her side. The bat pointed at each of the men lick a swinging pendulum. "Tuesday, get in the car."

She didn't listen to him, in fact, her focus was fixed solely on Sam. She made a motion to advance, to trade another blow and this time Billy snaked his arm around her waist and heaved her off the ground. Tuesday was dragged, kicking and screaming, into Billy's car. Face turning beat red from anger.

Billy walked back up to Sam after he locked Tuesday inside, he walked with his usual slow, swaggerful gait. He appeared to be extending a white flag when, without warning, his bat abruptly crashed onto Sam's knee, making him howl in pain.

Billy pulled him by the collar and threatened him, "The next time you lay hands on someone, you better pray it's someone I don't know." He pushed him back into the dirt and taunted his brothers, arms wide open. "Anyone else?"

They all took an instinctive step back when Billy motioned to step forward. He spat at the ground before climbing into his car and speeding Tuesday home.

"The fuck were you thinking?" his voice was harsh as he grabbed a packet of frozen peas from the fridge.

Tuesday stared at her reflection in the television screen, the voice from her dream returning to taunt her: "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished."

The cold press of peas to her face brought her back. She looked into Billy's eyes, so filled with anger and worry. Her right arm stiff from the tight bandage Billy had wound around her undoubtedly fractured hand.

"I- I don't know what came over me..."

He sighed, placing his forehead to her knee. "Something could have happened."

Tuesday was reminded of the harrowing image of the car hurtling towards her small frame, "Something nearly did."

“How did you learn to fight like that?”

“I was raised by a single dad…”

Billy didn't move and for a while, neither did she. They just sat there, stewing in their unpleasant emotions until they proverbially pruned.

Her eyes caught sight of the note that had been stamped with a dusty boot print, "Hey Champ. Won't be home for dinner. Don't wait up. Taking a double tonight. Love dad!"

Her chin quivered, barely. "How did you find me?"

Billy sat up, removing the bag of peas that turned soft. "I went over to the garage. Jack told me what happened. When no one answered the door I figured, if you were anything like me, you'd be itching for payback. I got lucky." He turned her head to examine the red palm mark. "It won't bruise."

Tuesday noticed he sported a new bruise beneath his shirt, she trailed a finger over it and he shivered, biting down hard. "How'd you get this?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me."

Billy held her gaze, and now she was reminded of their proximity. Of the cheap aftershave and cigarette smell that turned her limp. She pulled him close, savouring the feel of sedation. And then her lips found the sensitive stop of flesh behind his ear and he groaned, fingers digging into her back.

Without a word or look or a warning, Billy pulled her off the couch and carried her towards the bedroom where he proceeded to fuck her against her old, creaking dresser -the wood groaning and legs lifting from his fevered intensity. Their kisses all tongue and teeth and with no propriety -it was a primal instinct fuelled by heat and savagery. When he flipped her over and backed her into a wall, legs locked around his waist while he increased the power of his strokes, he noticed her hand had been kept over the bruise she had seen earlier. Her unintelligible whimpers fuelling him to go even deeper -harder. When he came, he had pulled out just in time. They leaned against the wall, ragged breathing, raspy voices and aching limbs. He watched his cum slide down the length of her inner thigh, waiting for it to reach the dip in her knee before he let her drag him to the bathroom.

That night, as he held her in his arms, he couldn't help but notice that the purple-bluish marks had almost faded into the yellowish-brown of a nearly healed bruise. Billy ignored the strangeness behind the colour change and focused on smoothing the raw skin of her cheek as she let out small breaths through lips agape.

***

Tuesday was drawn back into the dreamscape from before, but this time it wasn't drowning in darkness. The red and orange hues of the sunset covered the room in orange paint. The man from before looked less animalistic and spectral. He resembled a simple human now.

He held a bloody bat over his shoulder, the plasma smearing onto his wrist as he craned his neck to the side and side-stepped so she could see the fruits of his depraved labours. On the ground, a man in a security guard uniform lay barely breathing, incisors surrounded by splotches of blood around his face, no longer rooted in his mouth.

The nightmare-man turned to her, and with a mockingly high pitched tone, he screeched like a deranged parrot, "What are you? Some kind of ffrrreeeeeaaaaakkk?!"

His yellow teeth in full view through thinly pried lips.

And then she was forced awake.

***

Tuesday grumbled when she was conscious again, an epiphany dawning over her now that she was sober and in full possession of her bearings.

“Damn it,” she cursed as she realised she had left her car at the Carson’s Junkyard.

To be continued...

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