#queer blue lock fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Poly sea three x reader - oneshot - Lonely

*as i finished this i realized this has no dialogue...which is kinda cool i’ve never written a no dialogue fic, so enjoy!* ((y/n) is Jack Sparrows kid btw if you couldn't guess from the compass on the moodboard)

After Uma left, her life was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. On nights where it had just been too much stress at the chip shop, she would retreat to one of three rooms, sometimes even gathering all of them to be in her room so she could just relax with her favorite people.

Her head rested on her first mate's chest, his solid heartbeat and even breathing lulling her to sleep, her body tangled with her war chief, arms wrapped around each other like snakes and thumb gently rubbing her back. Her legs coiled around her second mate, his hands pressed against her calf and thigh, always letting her know he was there.

Uma didn’t know how much she relied on them until she couldn't get back behind the barrier, eyes wide with helplessness as she called out for them on the other side, Harry when he would nab some fish from an unsuspecting fisherman, (y/n) when they sat on the docks, carving whatever they felt like into their dagger, Gil when he was skipping rocks.

They never heard her, and she didn’t try again as she watched them walk around on the deck of her ship.

She missed them, she realized that almost as soon as she hit the water outside the barrier, stopping for a moment to look back, watching as the barrier closed and she was separated from her friends.

Sometimes, she would see things that reminded her of them, the scarlet ribbon of a disregarded dress, a sparrow flying above her, a broken arrowhead at the bottom of the sea.

Uma just wanted to be with them again, her heart ached every night she went on without the sound of Harry's heart, the feeling of (y/n)s hands gently scratching at her back, the feeling of Gil's hands gently massaging her legs. She realized she loved them, all three of them, the longer she was away from them.

She missed them all, so much.

And she hoped that they missed her too.

After Uma left, the isle was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot of you at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. And she saw the inner workings of them behind closed doors, rusty cogs and scratched glass resting before her eyes.

Harry got more…twitchy, after Uma left, his usual controlled rage that used to bubble beneath his skin bursting out more often, scaring the crew sometimes, but never you and Gil. you both knew he’d never hurt either of you, he’d throw himself off the edge of the world before he even thought about doing so.

Harry was just so angry that Uma was gone, stuck on the other side of the barrier, he had no doubt she didn’t abandon any of you but that didn’t stop him from screaming and destroying the training dummies.

He shut himself away from everyone soon after the anger burned out, even Harriet hadn’t been able to convince him to unlock his door. It had taken almost a month for him to let you and Gil inside, and he looked awful, his skin was pale and his nose and cheeks were red, his eyes puffy and dull. The only reason he wasn’t skinny was thanks to you and Gil leaving trays full of food in front of his door at mealtimes, and leaving it there for him to grab it.

During those months of anger and depression, you and Gil took over the crew, you ascended into the role of captain, being the most knowledgeable about the position thanks to your lineage and Gil becoming first mate, all temporary until Harry recovered and Uma returned.

Though once Harry started to slowly return to his “normal” self, he didn’t care to try to take back his role as the first mate or become the captain as his first mate duties proclaimed, that alone told you and Gil and something was still wrong with Harry.

One night you and Gil dragged Harry into Uma’s empty quarters, and just laid in her bed in a tangle of limbs, Gil laying between Harry's legs with his head on Harry’s stomach, while Harry curled up into your chest, hands clutching onto your shirt. That night was one of the few times you saw Harry cry, choked sobs ripping from his throat as he attempted to muffle them in your neck.

You and Gil let your feelings out that night as well, assuring Harry that he wasn’t alone in missing Uma, you all did. So.damn.much.

Harry had always been in love with Uma, never afraid to show it, but that night you and Gil finally proclaimed the same after years of hiding your feelings in fear they would be used against you. And you loved each other too, it was hard to deny, not after revealing your feelings for Uma.

You all vowed that when Uma returned you would shower her in the love that you had all been deprived of for many years.

It was over a year later before you saw her again, Gil and Harry had jumped out of the barrier behind Mal and her goons plus Celia, Harry knocking the blue gem out of Mal's hand.

Your breath escaped you when a turquoise tentacle caught it, and Uma, looking more beautiful than you remembered, emerged from the water, dressed in an altered version of her turquoise cotillion dress, the sweetheart neckline showing off her glowing shell necklace.

Uma and your boys reunited, but she didn’t look at you, probably because you were back behind the tunnel and she couldn’t see you through the barrier and the darkness of the tunnel. But that was fine, you could wait just a bit longer before you looked her in the eyes again.

You would wait a thousand years for her.

But you wouldn’t have to wait that long, the next morning you awoke to the crew loudly celebrating, cheers and chaos echoing through the halls of the ship from the main deck.

You slipped out of bed, quickly changing into your gear and racing up to the main deck, unable to keep the smile of your lips as you saw Uma, who continued to glow with an echo of her magic, being lifted by the crew, all cheering and celebrating her return.

Her eyes locked onto yours, and as the crew set her down on her feet, you walked toward her, taking off your tri-corn hat and kneeling in front of her. You said her name like a prayer to the gods, a whisper on your lips. Uma shivered at the tone, feeling something wash over her at your worship.

As she looked around at the crew, Harry and Gil standing only a few inches from her, not wanting to be far from her, she realized that while Auradon had everything one could want, riches, good food, magic.

It was nothing compared to the warmth she felt surrounded by her crew and the three people she loved with all her soul.

Uma grabbed your face as you stood up, biting back a smile at your confused look, and pressed a kiss to your lips, the crew around them exploding into cheers.

Uma pulled back from you, smirking at your dazed look as she spun around and grabbed Harry's jacket, pulling him down to her height for a kiss, laughing into it as he slumped into her and groaned. She pulled away one last time and turned to Gil, grinning at his ‘excited puppy’ look, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as he picked her up by her waist to give her better access.

The crew celebrated and cheered, Bonnie handing Desiree a wad of cash when you and Harry kissed as Gil set Uma down and pulled the four of you into a hug, Uma pressing a kiss to his cheek as he did.

All was well again.

Uma wasn’t lonely anymore.

-end-

lowkey kinda proud of this one hehe, tell me what yall thought! this was originally going to be a under the sea kinda fic but it turned into them all missing Uma and Uma missing them and then they all reunited and kiss and just asaoishdahsda i couldn't help but do the fluff at the end

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @remembered-license

@random-thoughts-003 @imtryingthisout

@rintheemolion @thecaptainsgingersnap

@verboetoperee @jatp-rules-my-life

#disney descendants #harry hook x reader #sea three x reader #poly sea three #harry hook descendants #uma descendants #gil descendants #uma x reader #gil x reader #poly sea 3 x reader

302 notes · View notes

blue-writes-things · 3 years

Text

I Just Can’t Say It

Remus Lupin x Sirius Black | Angst w/ Fluff

“Sirius, why do you never say it back?”

| Masterlists | Words: 1429 A/N: Whoa, Blue posting a new fic that’s new Warnings: Angst, insecurities in relationships (?)

Feedback is always appreciated! - Blue

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

Remus and Sirius had been dating for almost a year and a half. They were the queer power couple of Hogwarts, and everything was going amazing. Yes, they still had fights and disagreements but they always managed to work it out.

But one thing had been plaguing Remus’s mind for some time now, Sirius had never said “I love you”

He knows Sirius is still very new to the idea of people actually caring about and loving him. Remus could understand that maybe he didn’t know what to put into words how he felt but the first time Remus said “I love you” to Sirius didn’t go so smoothly...

*FLASHBACK*

The two of them were walking hand in hand around the school not really knowing or caring where. Just spending time together as Sirius animatedly talked about a prank he and James pulled off and something about how “Mother’s going to be sooo pissed!”

They were standing by a window, the sun perfectly shining through casting a beautiful golden light onto Sirius, making him look almost angelic. So overcome with emotion he couldn’t help thinking about all the amazing times they’ve had together, how much he loved Sirius. Remus was so enraptured in how Sirius looked he didn’t realize he had been staring.

“Earth to Moony!” Sirius called, making Remus jump out of his trance “What’s that pretty lil’ head of yours thinking about?” He tilted his head like a curious puppy.

“Just about how much I love you” Remus smiled sweetly, squeezing the hand he still had intertwined with his own.

Those seven words caused Sirius to freeze and tense up, eyes wide and flicking all over Remus’s face. "I- I-" he let out a distressed noise from the back of his throat. Remus noticed tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes.

“Sirius-” he didn’t get a chance to finish as Sirius tore away from him, sprinting in the opposite direction, a hand clamped over his mouth. Now it was Remus’s turn to freeze, his arm still slightly extended from when Sirius pulled away from him.

Sirius avoided everyone for the rest of the day and didn’t show up to lessons or meals. James tried to talk to him when he was curled up on his bed but he didn’t know what caused Sirius to retreat into himself and instead of saying anything Sirius just shook his head and locked himself in the bathroom. He stayed there for most of the next day.

The group was tense all day; it was weird not having Sirius there.

Remus finally saw him when he went back to the dorm to grab some textbook. He walked in to see Sirius curled up on his bed and wearing one of his jumpers, but what really broke his heart was that he was crying.

“Sirius, love”

Remus crouched on the floor next to Sirius “Pads, look at me” he said gently. When finally he did, Sirius quickly wiped his tears as if in a final attempt to hide he was crying “Pads, what’s going on?”

Sirius just shook his head and wrapped his arms around Remus’s neck hugging him tightly “Sirius- can’t breath” Remus said with a light voice. So Sirius let go for one second before grabbing Remus’s wrist and hauling him onto his bed, wrapping around him like a Bowtruckle to a tree.

Remus asked once again a bit later (after lots of cuddles, kisses and a long nap together) about what happened but Sirius just shook his head and buried himself into Remus’s shoulder. So Remus dropped it.

*FLASHBACK OVER*

Remus has said it three more times after that; Sirius didn’t pull away like that again but he still didn’t return the phrase. He would tense up for a moment but then give a soft smile and kiss Remus.

Remuss’ insecurities and self-doubt had started telling him Sirius didn’t like him the same way Remus did him. Maybe Sirius just didn’t want to break things off as it might hurt the group, maybe Sirius wanted to break up with him but didn’t know how?

But now It was their year and a half anniversary. Remus had spent a long time setting up a nice evening together, as they were walking hand in hand around the lake Remus stopped walking, making Sirius turn to look at him.

“What’s up Rem?”Sirius smiled, but Remus didn’t answer. He pulled him into a kiss, it was a kiss full of love and emotion, making Sirius completely melt into Remus.

“I love you so much Sirius” Remus said once he had pulled away, resting his forehead against the others. Sirius tensed and gave him a scared smile and pulled him to another kiss.

But Remus pulled back, looking deep into his eyes “Sirius, why do you never say it back? D-do you not love me?” he had tried to keep his voice steady and calm, maybe even a little assertive but he still stammered at the end. Not fully knowing if he even wanted to know if Sirius loved him or not.

“What? N-no! Moony- Remus it’s not like that!” Sirius’s eyes widened and he looked frantic.

“Then what is it Sirius? Cause to me not saying ‘I love you’ back to someone pretty much means you don’t. That may just be me but that’s how I feel.” Remus’s voice raised a bit and he was frowning, Sirius was yet to meet his eyes.

“No it’s not- I just- You’ve got it all wrong- I-,” Sirius was stammering and was shaking slightly.

Remus pulled his hand away from Sirius’s “I can’t keep giving my love and trust into someone who won’t return it Sirius. It’s eating me up inside, it hurts when you do things like this, when you don’t even tell my why” Remus took a deep breath turning to look back at the castle,

“Sirius, until you figure out your feelings I think...I think we need to take a break” It took every ounce of his Gryffindor bravery to say that, his heart and his mind were screaming at each other. One saying don’t leave him you love him, the other saying leave him he doesn’t love you.

“No!” Sirius shouted, calling Remus’s attention back at him, looking into Sirius’s eyes. The normal soft grey was clouded with absolute terror “no, no, please don’t leave me! I’m just, I-”

“Just what Sirius?!” Remus didn’t mean to snap at Sirius like that; what he really wanted to do was pull Sirius into a tight hug and say it was ok, that he wasn’t going to leave him, but he also wanted to know what Sirius was going to say.

“I just can’t say it, ok!” Sirius yelled, Remus opened his mouth to reply but Sirius kept talking, like floodgates opening “I can’t say it because I don’t know what it is! I don’t know how it feels to have someone lov- care about me like this, like you do. And I hate myself for that cause I have these feelings that I’ve never felt before.”

Remus was frozen, staring at him, Sirius’s voice went quiet “When you hold me, when you smile, when you say that, those three words I get this feeling of warmth and light and happiness inside me, and- and it terrifies me because I’ve never felt that before.”

Sirius finally looked Remus in the eye; they both had tears rolling down their cheeks. Remus walked back over to Sirius, taking his hand and resting his other on Sirius’s cheek, the other nuzzling into it slightly closing his eyes.

“Sirius, that’s all I needed to hear” Sirius flicked his eyes to Remus “because that warm feeling in here” He raised their interlocked hands to Sirius’s chest, over his heart.

“That is exactly how I feel, cause that’s what love feels like Pads”

“Y-yeah?”

Remus smiled at him with a nod pulling Sirius into his chest with a tight hug, Sirius clinging to him just as tight head in his shoulder.

“I don’t expect you to say it back to me. I get it now. But I’ll probably say it alot more now” Remus smiled slightly into Sirius’s hair.

“You’d better, cause I wanna be able to say it back”

They pulled away slightly to look at eachothers eyes both with small, slightly sad smiles.

“I love you, Sirius” Remus kissed his head, Sirius smiled brightly before burying his face back into Remus’s neck.

And Remus was almost certain he heard Sirius say,

“I love you too.”

118 notes · View notes

rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Note

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

161 notes · View notes

lyovochkaa · 2 years

Text

𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍.

Howell - 23 - they/he - painfully queer

ar55. NA. Zhongli main ( Diluc + Childe occasional main )

also currently playing cookie run: kingdom, twisted wonderland, and pjsekai.

likes: vtubers, daydreaming, fresh blankets out of the dryer, thunderstorms, summer lightening, jellyfish, the way people’s entire aura lights up when they talk about their fixations, potato soup—

dislikes: summer heat, doing laundry, putting my fresh sheets on the bed, slow load times in games, motion sickness, too many loud noises at once—

writing content will be multifandom w/ smut, fluff, angst, and dark content themes.

*multifandom currently means - genshin, hq!!, tokrev, twst, jjk, jjba, blue lock, and demon slayer.

#🪐.navi

3 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

"You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

"Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

"You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

"Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

"You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

"It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

"Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

"Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

"You bet your fur."

The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

Fuck, he really had it bad.

How pathetic he was.

Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

He is here, he realized.

Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

Y/n...

Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

"Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

"The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

"Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

"So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

"Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

"I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

"Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

"This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

"Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

How could she be saying these things?

He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

"Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

"F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

"He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

"It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

"You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

And it did.

Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

"Richie! Richie?"

It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

"Richie?!"

When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

It tore her apart.

She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

All she felt now was fear for Richie.

Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

"I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

"I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

+++

Taglist:

@seasidecrowbar @geniedocroe @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @kricketwritesstories @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @cloudymotel @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader @annimalq @russian-romanova @witch-of-all-things-soft @blogforhoes @darkcrystal-wolf @astrobre @opalpuff4073

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! ❥

#it #scars that heal #sth #sth 🎈#it 2017 #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak x fem!reader #tw f slur #tw homophobia #tw homophobic attack #homophobia #f slur #the losers x reader #losers club x reader #the losers club #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie tozier x platonic!reader #under pressure

40 notes · View notes

headhedgehog · 9 months

Text

Heartsick (KunigamixChigiri fluff)

It started so innocently.

That's what Kunigami would tell himself later, when he'd been eliminated from Blue Lock. It wasn't like he'd meant to fall in love with his teammate. He hadn't intended to act on the unexpected jolt in his stomach when he first spotted Chigiri. He just wanted to be a good friend, and things got out of hand.

When he saw Chigiri for the first time, he felt lightheaded in the same way he had when he saw a girl he would eventually embarrass himself in front of. Kunigami did his best to shake it off, chalk it up to Chigiri's long hair and the adrenaline of the moment. He'd always loved girls with long hair, the heat of the moment did weird things to everybody...

That night he ignored the surge of panic when Chigiri drug his futon next to Kunigami's. Chigiri fell asleep almost immediately, his long hair in his face. Kunigami forced himself to stare at the ceiling.

I am not attracted to Chigiri. That's not what's happening. He just seems nice, I'm just excited to meet someone who could be a friend in this place, that's all...

Chigiri rolled over onto his side, facing Kunigami. His sleeping face was so beautiful Kunigami had to force himself not to groan.

God, what is wrong with me? He's a guy! I can't feel this way about a guy!

Kunigami forced himself to roll away from Chigiri, but even then he could feel the other boy's presence behind him. When the wake-up call came, he hadn't slept at all.

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

Chigiri wasn't what Kunigami expected in those early days. Those delicate features were often scowling, the boy behind them brooding and standoffish. At first Kunigami welcomed Chigiri's angst -- let him be a jerk, I can't stand jerks -- but after a few days he caught himself trying to wheedle a smile, a decently civil comment out of him. When he succeeded, Kunigami walked on air for the rest of the day. He woke up one morning to find Chigiri's arm on Kunigami's neck, flung there in his sleep; Kunigami pretended to be asleep until Chigiri woke up. When Chigiri carefully pulled his arm away, Kunigami struggled between guilt and joy for how much he'd enjoyed the touch, accidental or no.

Then Team Z's match against Team W, Kunigami found himself in a massive group jumping on Chigiri, celebrating that they hadn't been knocked out of Blue Lock. He was the last to let go, suddenly immobile at the realization that he was really holding Chigiri, that it wasn't accidental, they were hugging --

And then Chigiri pulled away, wide-eyed and red-faced. He walked away without a word. Kunigami hung back as the rest of the team went to shower. When he was sure they'd all gone back to Team Z's dorm, he went to the locker room and cried in the shower.

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

Chigiri was quiet that night in the dorm. He only spoke when others spoke to him, though he remained more animated and upbeat than before the match. Kunigami caught Chigiri watching him a few times, but the redhead quickly looked away when Kunigami tried to catch his eye. Miserable, Kunigami drug his futon to a far corner and pulled the covers over his head, feigning sleep in spite of the excitement around him.

The next morning Chigiri got to breakfast late and, with an air of purpose, sat right next to Kunigami. After a few minutes Chigiri dropped his napkin.

He bent to pick it up, his hair falling over his shoulder. Kunigami caught a glimpse of the nape of Chigiri's neck and his mouth went dry.

When Chigiri sat up again, he shifted almost imperceptibly. His thigh was now resting against Kunigami's.

Kunigami blushed, saw Chigiri notice out of the corner of his eye. And Chigiri grinned. For only half a second, but he grinned.

It became a pattern. One would always find the other at meals or while resting between workouts, sit just a bit too close. Nothing noticeable, but close enough that their legs and arms could touch accidentally. Be left touching purposefully.

Kunigami felt like he was going insane. Did this mean anything? It had to mean something, right? It couldn't happen that often and not be purposeful for both of them, right? Chigiri wouldn't fuck with him like that, couldn't be that oblivious, right?

The night before their match against Team V, as Team Z relaxed in the dorm, Kunigami sat down next to Chigiri and casually put his hand over the other boy's.

He felt Chigiri startle. There was a pause. And then Chigiri shifted to lace his fingers through Kunigami's.

We're holding hands!! Kunigami thought to himself. He felt giddy, lightheaded. Chigiri is holding my hand!!

After a few minutes, Chigiri stood and announced to no one in particular that he was going to watch some game footage. As he left, he quirked an eyebrow at Kunigami.

The moment he thought it wouldn't look suspicious, Kunigami slipped out into the hall and headed for the AV room.

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

Chigiri was sitting on a couch, watching footage from Team V's most recent match. He didn't look up when Kunigami entered, didn't react when he sat down. Testing the waters, Kunigami stretched his arm over the back of the couch, and Chigiri finally smiled and snuggled into his side.

"Is this okay?" Chigiri said, settling his head on Kunigami's chest.

"Yeah." Kunigami's voice was thick and a bit shaky.

"Kunigami..."

"Chigiri?"

"You've been doing it on purpose, right? Sitting next to me and everything?"

"I wanted to ask you the same thing."

Chigiri looked away, his face nearly as pink as his hair. "I like you, Kunigami. Like more than the other guys. I just didn't know if you, you know. Would be interested?"

Kunigami put his hand on Chigiri's cheek and turned his face so he could look into his eyes.

"Listen, Chigiri. I've never felt like this before. About a guy. But I can't pretend I don't like you...in that way."

Chigiri sat up and stared at him. Kunigami took a deep breath.

"I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. I've been trying to figure out my feelings since I first saw you and I just keep coming back to the same thing. I like you, Chigiri. A lot."

"Can I kiss you?"

Kunigami's breath caught. He nodded.

Chigiri leaned in, put his hand on Kunigami's jaw. Their lips met, Chigiri's soft and vaguely sweet-tasting against Kunigami's. Kunigami sighed, a huge weight falling off his shoulders. Chigiri's kiss was pure relief, pure joy. They broke apart, each out of breath, and immediately kissed again, all soft nips and tongues and breathy moans. Kunigami gently guided Chigiri to lay back, settled himself on top of the smaller boy. His hands ran over Chigiri's muscles, under his sweatshirt, his skin as soft as Kunigami had imagined. He carded his fingers into Chigiri's long hair and Chigiri moaned louder.

Chigiri moved his hand to the waistband of Kunigami's sweatpants, his fingers running over the skin of his hipbones.

"Can I touch you?" he panted.

Kunigami shook his head. "I want you to, just...just not yet." Chigiri nodded, took Kunigami's jaw in his hand again, and kissed him with renewed enthusiasm.

After what felt like hours, they lay on the couch, Chigiri tucked close against Kunigami's chest. Kunigami played with Chigiri's hair, wondering if they could come up with an excuse to stay there all night, when Chigiri spoke up.

"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable earlier."

Kunigami pulled him closer. "No, no you didn't do anything wrong. I just...I haven't done anything like that before. With anyone."

"Oh."

"And I didn't want to make an idiot of myself, I guess."

Chigiri laughed quietly and kissed his cheek. "You aren't gonna embarrass yourself. But it's up to you. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Kunigami hugged him tighter.

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

They won their match against Team V. The celebration was among the most excited Kunigami had ever seen on any team he'd played for, the high carrying him for hours after the final whistle.

Team Z showered and headed for their dorm to keep celebrating, but Kunigami held back and grabbed Chigiri by the wrist as he passed.

Chigiri turned, and Kunigami caught his lips in a heated kiss. They stumbled back into the locker room, lips barely breaking apart as they found a hidden corner in the back.

Chigiri wrapped his arms around Kunigami's neck, very intentionally trying to avoid crossing any boundaries, but Kunigami ran his hands down his partner's chest and hooked his thumbs in his waistband.

"Is this okay?" Kunigami panted.

"If it is with you."

Kunigami slipped his hand into Chigiri's pants, palmed his cock over his underwear. Chigiri whimpered, his eyes screwed shut. Emboldened, Kunigami tugged Chigiri's pants and underwear down just enough to let his erection spring free, gently took it in his hand and running his thumb over the head.

"More...please, Rensuke, please..."

Hearing Chigiri use his first name made Kunigami lightheaded. He spit on his hand and brought it back to Chigiri's cock, continued kissing him desperately. He ran his tongue over Chigiri's before he started kissing his jaw, down his neck, sucked hard on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The noises Chigiri made were heavenly and went straight to Kunigami's dick, which strained against his shorts. Chigiri seemed to notice, because he ran a hand over the bulge in Kunigami's pants.

"Can I?"

Kunigami was beyond words. He nodded, panting. With one tug Chigiri removed Kunigami's pants and underwear; he sunk to his knees, pumping Kunigami's cock as he went.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you feel good, hopefully. This okay?"

Kunigami nodded rapidly. "Please."

Chigiri pushed his hair behind his ears and took Kunigami into his mouth. Kunigami fought to keep his knees from buckling. Chigiri's mouth was so warm, his tongue cradled Kunigami's cock so perfectly...Chigiri took him deeper into his mouth and Kunigami moaned, louder and deeper than he ever had. The feeling was incomparable. He'd masturbated, sure, made out with girls who'd ground against his lap, but god, Chigiri. It only took a couple minutes before he felt an orgasm building, which only made him tug on Chigiri's hair harder.

"Hyoma...Hyoma you're gonna make me cum."

Chigiri looked up at him through his eyelashes, very pointedly not taking Kunigami's cock out of his mouth.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth if you don't stop."

Chigiri took him even deeper into his mouth. Kunigami groaned, his head hitting the wall as he felt his orgasm come closer. Finally, he felt something in his guts release and he came, hard, into Chigiri's mouth. Chigiri swallowed and kissed Kunigami along his pelvic bones, up his torso and along his neck.

"Was that okay?" he whispered into Kunigami's ear. Kunigami kissed him, tasting his own cum on Chigiri's tongue. His hand found Chigiri's still-hard cock and jerked him off. Chigiri started making those beautiful noises again, which only became more urgent and high-pitched as he got closer to orgasm. When he finally came all over Kunigami's hand and their shirts, the two finally broke apart, panting.

"Sorry." Chigiri gestured to Kunigami's cum-splattered shirt.

"You're not looking much cleaner."

Chigiri looked at his own shirt and the cum drying on his dick. They both laughed, coming back down to earth. They went about finding clean clothes and washing off. When they got back to the dorm, everyone else was mercifully asleep.

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

They went on like that for weeks, sneaking off together after the others were asleep, desperately making out when Reo left their shared room during the second selection. The night before their match against Isagi's team, Reo went to bed early.

Kunigami and Chigiri went to the baths.

"Rensuke," Chigiri said as they settled in to soak. "What if we lose tomorrow?"

"We're not gonna lose."

"But just say we do. What if we get separated?"

"Then the other one of us fights like hell to get past second selection and we'll be back together. Nothing to worry about."

Chigiri knitted his brow, not reassured. Kunigami tucked him under his arm, took one of Chigiri's hands and brought it to his lips.

"I love you, Hyoma. That's not going to change if we're separated for a little while."

Chigiri turned to look at him, eyes wide. "I love you too, Rensuke."

They kissed, the heat of the bath and the emotion of their confession sending sparks through both of their bodies. Chigiri straddled Kunigami's lap; as they kissed Kunigami felt Chigiri's tears against his skin. He pulled away, held Chigiri's face in his hands so he could brush the tears away with his thumbs.

"What're the tears for, baby? We're gonna be okay, I promise."

Chigiri gave a wet laugh. "I'm just scared. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me." Kunigami kissed Chigiri's cheeks, dispatching the fresh tears that had fallen. "We're going to be right back here tomorrow night, and we're going to laugh about how worried we were. Okay?"

"Okay."

Chigiri kissed him again, hungrier than before. Kunigami moaned into the kiss, felt himself getting hard as Chigiri's tongue slipped into his mouth. Chigiri ground down against Kunigami's cock, egged on by the sounds Kunigami made.

"I want you, Rensuke," he breathed into Kunigami's ear.

Kunigami stood, lifting Chigiri and holding him wrapped around his torso. He carried the redhead out of the bath and to the changing room, where there was a cushioned bench. He lay Chigiri there, admiring his gorgeous, naked body stretched out in front of him.

"Are you sure about this?" Kunigami asked as he kissed Chigiri's neck. "I don't really know what I'm doing, I don't want to hurt you..."

Chigiri kissed him again, almost harsh in his intensity. "I've never been more sure about anything."

Kunigami found a bottle of lube in a supply closet -- "They really just don't want us asking for anything," Chigiri laughed -- and brought it back to the bench.

"You'll tell me if anything hurts?" he asked, praying his voice didn't sound as shaky as he felt.

"Just start with your fingers, it'll be okay."

"Have you done this before?"

Chigiri blushed across the bridge of his nose. "No, just...just porn. And looking stuff up online."

"Braver than I am, was too embarrassed to do any of that at home."

Chigiri didn't respond but pulled him into another heated kiss. Kunigami guided him onto his back, tried not to blush as he put lube on his fingers. He wedged himself against the wall so he could lay next to Chigiri as they kissed and he timidly moved his finger's to his lover's entrance. Chigiri gave a low moan as Kunigami entered him, his breathing ragged.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, keep going."

They continued like this, kissing and testing and giggling at the awkwardness of it all. Finally, Chigiri nipped at Kunigami's ear.

"I think I'm ready."

Kunigami nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. Had he ever been this nervous? He didn't think so. He wondered vaguely if he was going to pass out as he covered his cock in lube and moved to hover over Chigiri.

"You good?" he asked, his voice audibly shaking.

"Yeah. You okay?"

Kunigami only nodded, too focused on lining himself up with Chigiri's hole. God, what if I miss somehow? Only one place it could go and can't even get that right --

His brain shut off as he pushed in, slowly, stopping at Chigiri's pained hiss.

"I'm okay, just needed a second."

Kunigami finally bottomed out and they both groaned. He kissed Chigiri's cheek, then his neck as he started to move.

"I love you, Hyoma," he breathed.

"I love you too."

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

The next day Reo didn't say anything as the couple stumbled into the dorm right before breakfast, chose not to comment on the fact that they held hands as they walked to the locker room. Kunigami thought he saw Reo notice the hickey Chigiri'd left on his neck, but if he did he didn't say so.

They let Reo go ahead of them as they walked into the pitch. Kunigami gave Chigiri's hand a final squeeze, wrapped an arm around his shoulders so he could kiss his temple.

"See ya in the locker room, gorgeous," he said.

Chigiri smiled, kissed his cheek. "See ya, Hero."

#bllk #blue lock #fic #fanfic #bllk fic #chigiri hyoma #queer chigiri hyoma #kunigami rensuke #bisexual kunigami rensuke #kunigiri #kunigami #chigiri #first time #first kiss #getting together #queer love #queer fluff #kunigiri fluff

19 notes · View notes

pressedinthepages · 3 years

Text

Decembert Day 21 - Midivaerne

@continentcakeshop thanks as always for the encouragement <3

Rating: T

Content Tags: TW3 Lambert, Essbert, half-elf Essi, fluff

Summary: On the longest night of the year, Essi takes Lambert into the forest for a night of secret celebration.

Lambert felt like his arm was about to leave his socket as he was dragged through an unfamiliar forest, his feet struggling to keep ground as he was pulled along. Essi had him by the wrist and was practically at full sprint over bent logs and gnarled trees.

“And just where, Bard-“ Lambert dodged a branch where it threatened to send him reeling into a concussion, “are you taking me? It’s the middle of the night-“

“When the moon is highest,” Essi smiled back at him, her blue eye twinkling while the other was hidden beneath her wavy golden hair, “is when the festivities begin.”

“Cause that’s not ominous or anything-”

“Oh, would you just trust me?” Essi finally stopped and turned to Lambert, placing her hand softly on the tendon in his neck. A vulnerable spot that very few were allowed to touch. She knew that he trusted her, trusted her deeper than almost anyone on the Continent. Lambert nodded and Essi smiled, leading him along once more.

After not too much longer, Essi stopped them once more, her hair drifting oddly in the breezeless night. Lambert looked around the empty forest, feeling a queer pull in the back of his stomach.

Essi locked their fingers together and stepped forward slowly with Lambert right behind her. He felt something drag over his head, an invisible fabric woven between the trees and the chilly night air. He blinked, and instead of the tightly packed woods with nary a soul to be found, there was a great party. Elves, tall and short and fair and dark and lean and chubby, mingled and danced as balls of light bounced merrily between the trees.

“Wha…” Lambert couldn’t keep his eyes in one place, there was too much to see. Tables filled to the brim with meats and cheeses and fruits, dresses swirling over the ground that glittered in the magical light, people whose very beings had been threatened for decades but still wandered the earth, still found each other in times of celebration.

“It’s Midivaerne,” Essi whispered with a smile into Lambert’s ear. “One of the only times of the year that Elves can celebrate without worrying of being found. The veil of magic is thin, and what runs in the Elves' blood is enough to keep us hidden through the night.”

“Us?” Lambert looked down to Essi with a crinkle in his brow.

Essi laughed lightly, a sweet thing that twisted Lambert’s gut into a comfortable little knot. “Yes, us. I thought you knew. I’m half-Elf, that’s how I was able to get us through the veil.”

Lambert hummed. “You know? That makes a hell of a lot of sense. So…” he looked around at the group of people, watching them laugh and smile through the pain of persecution hanging like a cloud above them, “what exactly do we do?”

“Well,” Essi tilted her head, “we dance, drink, eat. Prepare for Yule, visit with those we’ve not seen in far too long. Introduce new friends. Like you…”

“Oh no, no. I don’t need to make any sort of entrance. I’m more than happy to be your side-piece for the night and drink until I get a nice little buzz behind my eyes.”

“I know, Lambert,” Essi squeezed his hand gently. “You’ll do just fine at my side. Besides, there’s nowhere else that I’d rather you be.”

#decembert #essbert #essi daven/lambert #fluff

3 notes · View notes

glamrockmonarch · 3 years

Text

The Land That Our Grandchildren Knew (B!Reader x Brian May)

THIS WORK IS PART OF THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

Requested: NO

Type: SFW, FLUFF ?, ANGST.

Summary: A little glance at life back to normal after Brian and B!Reader get over the cheating scandal.

Warnings: None.

A/N: So this came out of nowhere in my mind. I have struggled with being creative for a while and I just do not know why(?) but here we are! I hope someone out there enjoys reading this one.

*For anyone who does not remember (lol it has been a while): B!Reader (often B!R) is "Brian!Reader", and R!Reader (or R!R) is "Roger!Reader".

“The one thing he did not know was how much I loved him. In a previous life, in a time when things were so much more complicated. When war was splitting us apart and leaving us breathless. Motionless in a world of aggressive turmoil. There was little we could do when everything was amiss. All around us things were blowing up, giving in upon themselves the buildings fell, and the cities died along with their lights and spectacles.

“The love I grew and nurtured for him was the last reminding power of the old Earth, scattered through the cosmos like dust as I searched for him in a ridiculous journey. I did not meet a king in a tiny planet, and I never saw a rose grow on the dry lands of the foreign space countries. We had each other but time made it so that I was here today while he was here yesterday. Today was never ours, today was a promise we believed and ate up and followed with blind eyes until the moment when the sound of truth, deafening and cruel, locked us out of each other’s life. And still, forever, my love for him is true and enduring. Out there, I know he will feel my presence in the air, see me in the clouds, savour me in the smell of rain and grass. He will miss me when the night is cold, and the sound of wind reminds him of my voice… Yes, he will be empty when he hears the silence, the way I will always feel too when I look back at Earth and regret every second spent away from the one who called me Venus.”

The crowd claps and smiles and I see the people in the front look at the books in their hands with expressions of confusion and deep thought. A good reason to write something is to make people wonder, so for B!Reader this one was a success. She had taken so long to finish the manuscript, not that she was being lazy; with the scandal of Brian cheating and the twins taking sides, it was hard to focus on this. This book was not what she intended on writing when she began doing research for it. It started with the Irish War of Independence, she went around Britain meeting historians with much better understanding and knowledge on the topic. It soon turned upside down when the news appeared on every single form of media… Brian’s stunt. She would call it what it was now; he had cheated.

It was hard to get over it. B!Reader took time off with her mother in Scotland, she had taken the kids with her, much to Brian’s displeasure, but he was in no position to complain. When she came back home, she was still defeated by the details. Brian’s lame explanation sounded more like an excuse but even she had to admit that her husband did not have the best track record when it came to women. She was probably the one he had been the most loyal to at that point – even when he had cheated on her once.

So, she tried. They sought professional help. A therapist. First couple’s therapy, and then one-on-one sessions alone. She hated every second of it, which could not have been fun to hear for their therapist. Nothing seemed to be helping, in fact B!Reader talked to a lawyer in secret… but her career was also on the line at that point, and she was desperate for ideas, desperate to reconnect with the only man she ever truly and completely loved. Her manager had the idea, “read some of Brian’s stuff, maybe ask him about his PhD work, maybe he will inspire you and if he doesn’t at least you will have spoken to each other… it’s worth a try”. And so B!R did that, although not in the way her manager had meant. She was stirring her on the direction of reading some of his lyrics not his space dust thesis… Nevertheless, the story began there.

B!R could not understand much, and she wound up spending a lot of time talking about physics and space with her husband. Brian was a patient teacher, she already knew that, but it was now being confirmed to her. He was also happy to be able to go on and on for hours, the topics where his cup of tea, and they had numerous cups of tea too while B!R took notes and began toying with a historical fantasy mix for her next book.

Today she was reading from her favourite chapter in the book. It had been a massive hit; one she could not quite understand. If she was being honest, the book was more like therapy for her than her actual therapy sessions had been. She cried while writing it and poured a lot of emotion into it, which she rarely did. Her writing had always been more …impersonal, presented almost as a sort of biography of fictional characters rather than real moving parts of the imaginary world they were living in.

She had never written such an odd story before, with time skips and a weird space journey concepts implanted in the middle of 1920 Ireland.

“You did great, mum.” A proud Fred wrapped his arm around her middle.

Even though the teen boy was still that, a teenager, he managed to already stand a couple centimetres taller than his own mother.

“Thank you love, did you get anything of that?” She wondered, wrapping her arm around him in the familiar way a mother does.

Arm around his shoulder, soft play of the tender fingers on the dark curls on the back of the head of her “little boy”.

“Nothing at all,” he smiled and shrugged, honesty dripping in shameless glee from his tone. “But that’s the cool part, I don’t think anyone gets it.” The younger of the twins looked at his mother up and down in her bright blue dress. “Except Dad. Was that the point?”

B!Reader looked at her son and inhaled a deep long breath, which she held for a moment. Her brows furrowed and her mouth moved like that of a fish.

“Maybe.” She conceded.

“Hey mum, would you sign my book?” Harry interrupted, bringing along Jazz and a peculiarly uninterested Max.

Harry gave his mother a wide smile and put a copy of her own book in her hands.

“For Harry, please.”

“Dork,” Max rolled his eyes.

He was the only one to admit he had not finished the book yet the previous weekend when Fred mentioned his mother was doing a reading at a local bookstore while they sat by the Taylor’s pool. And he rushed to get through it. Max was not dumb, and he managed to grasp some of the concepts in the complicated plot, although he did not let on to any of his friends.

“Loved the wormhole bits Mrs May.” Max said once Harry had his signed copy reading for Harry with Love. “That dark hole and the speed of dark and light near the end were mind-blowing. I never thought of you as a fantasy writer!”

B!Reader nodded and blushed at the compliments. Max was a lot like Roger in that he did know how to make a girl blush with what appeared to be little effort.

“I am glad you liked it,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice.

“I really wish Darragh and Conor had ended up together,” Jazz voiced from around Harry’s tall lean and awkward teen figure. “They were obviously meant for each other.”

Fred had been in tears when he read the ending of the book. Of course, he would have hoped for his mother’s first queer paring to end together but what that did was echoing life.

“You have to be the eighth person who’s said that to me today.”

R!Reader, Roger and Brian were in a conversation of their own next to the long table B!Reader was about to sit before to meet some fans and sign as many copies of her book as time allowed.

She eyed the silver hair on her husband’s hair, she had been discreet when describing Darragh in her book. A tall, talented, middle-aged, idealist Irish man. A man born in a difficult time. A man who fell in love by mistake, with Conor. A young man described often as immature, who enjoyed a quiet life on board of a spaceship when he got caught up in a black hole and wound up going back hundreds of years and miles into the past. Conor had almost been killed in his attempts of helping his beloved Darragh in fighting what he considered to be hiswar. The battles gave their relationship meaning, although it was never spoken about between them. The adoration was always palpable and present to the last page. Down to the moment when Conor acknowledges that his lover cannot come with him once he finds the way back into his ship, and then it turns into a matter of will. Darragh is revealed to have a similar story, only that… he was left stranded in 1905 with no way back to his ship. “The voice of Venus” was really a metaphor for B!Reader. A complicated one, as her feelings were when she had to love the man who broke her heart. She felt lost the way Conor felt, but she could tell Brian had been lost for a while before the entire ordeal – defeated in the same manner as Darragh. And it was fitting, he was older, he was educated. He should have known better than to play in the physics lab with those dangerous materials. Brian should have known better than to play with that old woman. Conor could have turned his back on Darragh, he knew he was of no help now that he was so invested in the past – now their present. He knew Darragh and himself would never be able to be together if he stayed and they would most likely get killed if they marched on. So B!Reader made them split. She was about to leave Brian when she started writing her book, so it made sense. And when she realised, she did not want to end her marriage, she still wrote it that way because this was the ending she had seen coming for herself before – one she fortunately managed to evade, which still was the ending for many couples.

B!Reader watched the teens as they began discussing the book, Max and Jazz were defending the plot, Fred joined in and the three of them seemed to be getting passionate about proving Harry wrong. The eldest of the group was stubborn about his stance on Conor being right to leave Darragh.

His mother could not help but remember that same stubbornness from the first few weeks after the story broke. Harry had been the one to take it the hardest. When they packed for Scotland, she had to stop him from shattering his project guitar, the yellow guitar he and Brian had been working on for a while. “I don’t want it! I do not want anything from him! He is a liar!” He had yelled, with the side of his face still reddened from a slap he received from Brian. She still could not believe she managed to stay impartial at that moment after the mess that had happened in the kitchen when Harry insulted his father – earning a slap from him.

“It’s alright,” B!Reader placed her arm around the twins’ shoulders. “Conor had to go back anyway. He had a family in the spaceship.”

“What?” Jazz was the first one to open her mouth.

With a laugh, the young writer looked at the confused faces around her. “He could never stay…” She shrugged.

Harry’s expression flashed with a difficult emotion, which both Jazz and his mother noticed.

The short girl flipped her long blonde hair and checked the time on her phone, “no wonder I’m hungry! Who’s coming?” Her blue eyes searched around in an almost innocent manner.

“You got to be joking, we JUST ate.”

Max stepped back from his sister and Fred followed, “sorry, I told dad I’d get lunch with him.”

Blue eyes flipped onto Harry’s figure. B!Reader gave him a squeeze and let go, the sigh he let out being enough of an answer for Jazz to show a large smile, reaching out to grab his hand and pull her to her side. It almost seemed a pass of the baton.

The boy walked taller than Jazz and still, it looked like he was the smaller child. She was sure they had been doing a good job as parents, although that slipdid a number on Harry. The curly haired boy pulled the glass door open and let Jazz go first, only to have her childishly cling on to his arm once they were outside, a smile breaking his serious expression when his young friend told him something – they were too far for B!Reader to make out what Jazz said.

“Where are those two going?” Brian walked up to her.

He had a cardboard cup of coffee in his hand, which he offered to her. With a mumble she took it and had a testing sip – it was too bitter, but it would do. “Nando’s. Probably.” She gave her husband a soft smile.

Brian nodded in silence, a reflective look on his face.

“He needs some time, Bri.” She guessed what he was thinking about.

“It’s been a year,” he said with caution.

“He is getting over it, love.” She took a step closer to Brian and whispered, “he’s picked up the guitar again.” They shared a look before someone called for B!Reader and she left her husband with a peck on the cheek.

#original timeline #about the original timeline #b!reader x brian may #b!reader #brian may #present day!brian may

21 notes · View notes

flashfictionfridayofficial · 4 years

Text

Previous Prompts

The following is a collection of every single prompt created by FFF!

Feel free to use them for your writing endeavors, however please note that we won’t be able to reblog your works once that prompt’s week is over. But please still go ahead and tag us and we will showcase your work in a monthly Masterlist of Antique Prompts! If you’re looking for past weeks’ prompt’s banners as well, head over to the previous prompts page on the browser, where we listed the prompts and their banners.

Now go make some magic! (Prompts under the cut)

#1 Gimme Fluff #2 Auch My Heart #3 Get Hot, Babe #4 As Above, So Below #5 Bloody Hell #6 Fight Me! #7 Happy Death Day #8 Bittersweet Beginings #9 Street Magic #10 Painted Diamonds #11 Bruised Sky #12 Into the Wild #13 Strange Door #14 Burn, Baby, Burn #15 Midnight Drive #16 Manic Pixie Dream #17 Peachy Kisses #18 Jumping Fences #19 House of Stars #20 Living Sacrifice #21 We Are Not Alone #22 Conquer Me and Mine #23 Shelf Life #24 On the House #25 Mermaid Lights #26 Boxes #27 Labyrinth #28 Spell Schooled #29 Golden Rings #30 Lethal Flowers #31 Deep End #32 Whispering Fire #33 Running wild #34 Weeds and Ruins #35 Locked In #36 Queer and Curious #37 Strange Lands #38 Forbidden Knowledge #39 Furry Friend #40 Mysterious Masquerade #41 Blooming Blossom #42 Alien Sunset #43 Gift Of The Gods #44 Hollow Walls #45Familiar Melody #46 Muffins of Desperation #47 Don‘t Take My Heart #48 Cold Object #49 Mesmerizing Blade #50.1Smoke And Mirrors #50.2 Unusual Concoction #50.3 Mouth To Mouth #50.4 Shattered Sunshine #51 Summer Storms #52 Child‘s Play #53 Come Back #54 Rainbow Kisses #55 Twisted Dreams #56 Dress to Impress #57 Crystalline Waters #58 Immortality for Dummies #59 I Beg You #60 Soft Bones #61 Wild And Free #62 Let Me Go #63 Creeping Magic #64 Made from Stardust #65 Better Than This #66 Golden Decay #67 The Devil’s Music #68 We Meet At Midnight #69 Blood on my Name #70 Undead #71 Children of the Night #72 Hidden in the Shadows #73 All I Need #74 Drifting in the Wind #75 Dreams of Tomorrow #76 Give Up #77 An Angel’s Wrath #78 Child of the Wild #79 On My Way Home #80 Comfort in the Cold #81 Turn Back Time #82 The Sins of Saints #83 Everyday Hero #84 Secret Paradise #85 When Whispers Come Calling #86 Wheel of Time #87 I Will Be Strong #88 At First Sight #89 Dipped in Silver #90 Mirror Image #91 Main Attraction #92 Sweet Surprise #93 Broken Windows #94 Riveting Revival #95 Dance the Night Away #96 In Your Arms #97 Cleansing of the Soul #98 The Last Time #99 Undiscovered Colours #100.1 The Sweetest Blood #100.2 Dying Fire #100.3 Stay With Me #100.4 Hidden Path #100.5 A New Dawn #101 Broken Scars #102 Fairy Lights #103 Burn It Down #104 Stronger Together #105 Ruined and Destroyed #106 Barbed Wires #107 Never Forgotten #108 Starlight Paths #109 Littered Souls #110 Moon Magic #111 Clandestine Closet #112 Sunny Delights #113 Hold Me Closer #114 Fleeting Hearts #115 Endless Greed #116 Deceiving Fragrance #117 Stars and Shadows #118 Yonder Hills #119 Deja Vu #120 A Greater Horror #121 Cold Body #122 Not Alone #123 Ceremonial Chants #124 Bitten By You #125 Think Twice #126 Out in the Rain #127 Green With Envy #128 Higher Calling #129 Under The Moonlight #130 Drowned Thoughts #131 Unbreakable Bonds #132 Taste Of Blue #133 Given Ultimatum #134 Awaiting Your Answers #135 A Touch Of Faith #136 Goodness Will Come #137 Billowing Smoke #138 Tangled In Time #139 It Doesn’t Hurt #140 Setting Heaven On Fire #141 Chaos Unfurling #142 Bursting the Bubble #143 As Good as There #144 Foul Play #145 Rise and Fall #146 At What Cost? #147 The Sound of Light #148 The Big City #149 Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained #150 Pay Your Dues #151 Asking for Permission #152 Fairytale Ending #153 Welcome to Hell l#154 Far from Perfect #155 Out of Containment #156 No Battery Life #157 Need More Space #158 Dancing in Sunshowers #159 Pride Before the Fall #160 The Dazzling Screen #161 Storms and Thorns #162 The Letter #163 Splash of Waves #164 A False Confession #165 A Mere Relic #166 Count the Ways #167 Leap of Faith #168 Sleepless Nights #169 Meeting of the Minds #170 Eager for Details #171 The Last House on the Left #172 A Ghost from the Past #173 No Rest for the Wicked #174 Monster Mash #175 Gloomy Daze #176 Like Your Father #177 Expand through Horizons #178 Second Hand Soul #179 Dance Dance Revolution #180 Promise You’ll Write #181 Crystallized #182 Across a Field #183 Late Night Train #184 Set the Stage #185 Birth Of A Star #186 Fine By Me #187 Pure Imagination #188 Where Secrets Lie #189 Who Are You #190 Trapped In The Dark #191 You're Not Alone #192 Sea And Sun #193 Celestial Bodies #194 Tree Of Life #195 Filled With Clarity #196 Against The Flow #197 An Eternal Summer #198 What Comes Next #199 Didn't Mean It #200 How Far We've Come #201 Comedian's Night #202 The Devils You Forgot #203 Yes, Sir!! #204 All The King's Horses #205 Where The Flowers Grow #206 Sink Or Swim #207 Can We Kiss? #208 Reporting The Scoop #209 On The Edge #210 The Sand Ocean #211 An Old Friend #212 Gotta Go Fast #213 Ten Years Later #214 Broken Mirror #215 Mall At Night #216 Found Family #217 Portal Fiction #218 How Do You Use 'It'? #219 Under The Night Sky #220 Blood Is Thicker Than Water #221 Spine In A Twist #222 An Empty Grave #223 By Candlelight #224 Torn Vei l#225 I Can’t Tell #226 By Any Other Name #227 Sands Of Time #228 A Form Of Distraction #229 Nebulous Roads #230 Fool Me Once #231 A Promise To Break #232 Among Any Option #233 Imperfect Sign #234 How It Ends #235 Little Pink Houses #236 Fight Or Flight #237 A Fool's Quest #238 Take My Hand #239 Seal It Tight #240 Broken Moonlight #241 Hour Of Denial #242 Soaring Above #243 Glitter And Blues #244 Critical Ice Cream #245 You Never Cared #246 Pinprick #247 Blind Spot #248 Watching Birds #249 Open Your Eyes #250 Rushing Train #251 Out There #252 Spill The Tea #253 Pushing up daisies #254 Horizon Line #255 In The Heart #256 Muted colors #257 Count The Days #258 Milky Way Dreams #259 House Of Cards #260 Fear is a Sickness #261 Maybe One More

(Prompts until July 12th 2024)

#writblr #writing #flashfictionfriday #previous prompts #antique prompts #have fun

96 notes · View notes

shadowknightvylad · 4 years

Text

Vylance Fluff Fic

Idea for the short fic: "No amount of stars in the sky even begin to get close to how many reasons I love you."

@twifox-the-queer hope you like it, I had to rewrite it cause I closed Tumblr without saving it like a moron.

"How many stars do you think there are in the sky?"

A soft question, air rushing out past even softer lips that belonged to the man laying on his back, staring up at the sky. He didn't even glance at the man next to him to see if they heard his question; of course they heard, they always listen to him when he rambles. But this question, one that came out of seemingly nowhere, and was somewhat out of character for the quiet, soft spoken, and usually stoic man, really threw his companion off for a minute.

"Stars in the sky?" Blue eyes as light as the sky on a clear day blinked open, the sound of rustling as their owner sat up and turned to look at the man who had asked such a crazy yet reasonable question, head tilted to the side ever so slightly, making his light brown haur fall over his eyes a bit.

They hummed in response, a simple yes from him. The lying man, who's skin was much darker than his bkue-eyed companion, didn't open his eyes, or even really move, just waiting for an answer to his question.

"A lot probably.. geez.. more than anyone could ever count in a life-time.. Why are you so curious about it, Vylad?" They wondered aloud, turning to gaze up at the clear starry night, sitting in a clearing surrounded by trees and the gentle rustling as the many creatures in nature moved about.

And finally, a pair of emerald eyes opened, only half way though, and turned to gaze at the sitting man. He chuckled, the sound soft and barely audible, much like the person who made it, who could slip away and no one would even know he was gone, or could be right next to you, and you would never know.

Vylad took a deep breathe before pushing himself up into a sitting position, still smiling gently at his boyfriend. "Because, Laurance, I doubt that if you gathered all the stars in the sky, you could never get a number more than the amount of reasons I love you."

A cough, stammering words as Laurance attempted to find a response, face becoming tinted with red as he blushed. "W-well how many stars do you think there are in the sky, mr. space nerd?"

Space nerd, a nickname Vylad was given after pointing out multiple constellations and talking about random facts he happened to know. He shook his head, scooting closer and leaning up, making their faces only inches apart. "More than a google." He whispered, voice dropping quite a few octaves to where Laurance had to lean even closer to hear him.

"And how many zeroes are in a google?" He asked, reaching out to place a hand on Vylad's hip and pull him closer, eyes locked together.

"A hundred zeroes, and I can still think of more reasons than that of why I love you." Vylad told him, and like that it was like a switch was flipped.

Laurance closed the gap between them, connecting their lips and feeling them instantly fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. He pulled Vylad into his lap, remaining gentle, as his other hand cupped the tan boy's cheek, smiling. One of Vylad's hands gripped the front of Laurance's shirt, the other tangling into brown locks and lightly tugging.

There was no ferocity in the kiss, no lust or need or feralness. Just a gentle press of lips together, gentle reminders that they had eachother. The kiss didn't have to be feirce or desperate for them to be able to feel the passion.

Neither wanted to break the kiss, but sady, things must be done and Laurance still has to breathe, even if Vylad doesn't. And when he pulled back, he watched as Vylad, eyes still closed, slightly trailed after him, as if not wanting him to end it so soon.

Emerald eyes open and met with blue ones, matching dopey grins spread over their faces as Vylad began to giggle lightly. The chuckling turned into soft chuckles, which soon turned to amused laughter. And when he laughs, well it's infectious and Laurance couldn't resist laughing as well, even if he wasn't sure what was so funny.

"Heh, mind telling me what gives you the giggles mr?" He asked, still holding the man in his lap.

Vylad took a second to calm down enough, hiccuping a bit and wiping his eyes. "Ah.. nothing much, other than how stupidly dopey your face looked."

"Hey! My face is beautiful, just like the rest of me. And just like you!" Laurance exclaimed, feigning hurt, which made Vylad laugh even more.

"Hehe!! I know, Laur..." He mumbled, grinning wide as he nuzzled into the crook of the taller man's neck, arms wrapping loosely around his shoulders as he let out a small sigh of content. "I love you."

The guard looked down at the rouge, smiling gently at how adorable he looked right then. "I love you too, V. I always will." He replied, running his hand gently through the other's dark brown mop of hair. "You wanna just stay outside tonight. Sleep under the stars?"

A small hum of agreement was what he got, and he could tell Vylad was already dozing off. So, Laurance laid down on his back once more, his smaller boyfriend curled up on his chest (like a cat in his opinion) and shut his eyes. Sleep didn't take long to find him, and as he was drifting off, he realized something.

Vyllad was right, no amount of stars in the sky could ever come close to how many reasons they loved eachother, and Laurance realized just how lucky he was to find someone who understood him, who'd stay by his side till the end of time.

#aphmau #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau vylad #minecraft diaries #minecraft roleplay #roleplay series #shadow knights #vylad ro'meave #aphmau laurance #short fic #short fiction #vylance #dopey nerds #tooth rotting fluff #I had to rewrite this cause i accidentlaly deleted it

20 notes · View notes

fic-for-fic-sake · 5 years

Text

As Long As You’re Mine

A/N: This is the follow up to “I’m Not That Girl”. This second part now follows the song “As Long As You’re Mine” also from Wicked. Hope you enjoy...

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff

Six months ago Steve Rogers left you for his ex, and you were handling it. How well you were handling it was debatable but you were moving on and making progress. Which is why when Bucky said there was a new mission you jumped at the opportunity. You had been out of the game way too long, it was time to get to work again.

Ever since the time tech had been used, people had a way of getting their hands on it, or something similar, and using it for nefarious purposes. Most of which involved giving Hydra a leg up years in advance. Telling them information they shouldn’t know about events that hadn’t happened yet.

This time, some Hydra newbie, probably trying to prove his worth, used the time tech to go back to 1954 Miami. Some top Hydra execs were meeting and your intel told you that he intended on meeting them there. Your team was unsure of what information he would pass on but Fury said any information out of time is too dangerous, especially in the wrong hands.

You wanted in. This mission would be perfect for you, it would allow you to get back into the swing of things and be relatively undetected. Since he went back alone and it wasn’t your time, people wouldn’t know to be on the lookout for you. Plus security was way more lax in the 50′s so you didn’t have as much to worry about on that front.

After some internet searches, Bucky’s personal input, and same day Amazon delivery you were ready to go. You marched up to the platform, cream colored heels clacking on the flooring. You felt ridiculous. You wore a white dress with red roses on it, the kind that cinched in at the waist and flared out at the leg. The halter tie of the dress sat uncomfortably at the base of your neck, but your bouncy decade appropriate curls hid it well. The tulle underskirt you had on made a swooshing noise every time you dared move an inch and it drove you crazy. Your white short gloves felt too snug on your hands and you placed one of your many guns in your small silk clutch. The pearl earrings felt too big and your red lipstick made you feel like an overdone Marilyn Monroe.

Bucky noticed your scowl. “Don’t give me that look, I thought you wanted to go on this mission.” Bucky chided, trying to stifle his grin.

“Yeah I did, until it involved me dressing up like Mrs. Maisel” You protested, holding your wrist out for Bucky to secure the time bracelet on.

“Listen doll, you’ve gotta blend in okay? Can’t exactly have you turnin’ up in your normal gear.” He side eyed, referring to your catsuit. Okay, he had a point, that didn’t mean you were enjoying it anymore. Despite yourself, you chuckled. “What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I mean the fifties is pretty close to your time. I might hear a lot of people talk like you.” You said, thinking about how you liked the way Bucky spoke, still used darlin’ and doll and all that stuff. It reminded you of someone else who used to sweet talk you like that. No, don’t even go there. Steve’s gone and you’re moving on, this mission is what matters.

“You remember the mission?” He questioned, going over to where Bruce was flipping switches on the control panel.

“Yeah, go to the beach party, find our guy, take him out. No witnesses, no unnecessary bloodshed.” You repeated, fastening your gloves and getting ready for the mission. Miami, 1954, summer and sun. This should be a piece of cake, home in no time.

After squinting the sunlight out of your eyes, you tried to catch your bearings by looking around you. Before you could see anything, you smelt them, cubanos. Your mouth watered as you remembered how good they tasted the first time you had one. Would they taste different in 1954? You wondered, but reminded yourself you didn’t have time for such luxuries, you had a party to get to. Just when you thought you would have a hard time finding the place you saw a throng of people heading out to the beach. You literally had to pinch yourself, it felt like you were watching an old movie.

Guys in short board shorts and girls in high waisted bathing suits and apparently swimming caps, were headed to the beach without a care in the world. They had bottles of Coca-cola in their hands, and the women had straws so they wouldn’t ruin their lipstick. You almost laughed at the thought. If only they knew about the war on plastic straws in your society, you wondered what they would do. Somehow you didn’t think they would care.

As you followed the people down the beach you noticed more peculiar things. Instead of sunscreen people were actually putting on tanning oil, nobody seemed to care about sun damage. Doris Day and Nat King Cole played in the distance and you wondered vaguely if this was how Marty McFly felt.

Women in dresses like yours walked by and eyed you in appreciation. Kids ran around flying kites and asking for ice cream. It crossed your mind that those kids were old enough to be your parents now...weird. You reached in your clutch and pulled out the picture of your target. Granted, he probably went through his own Queer Eye 1950s edition makeover as well, so it may be a little harder than originally thought to find him, and to do so before he finds Hydra. You knew they had a meeting at 3:00 and it was 2:26 right now, you had time.

You kept walking through the beach and your heart stopped. You saw a rope snake its way through the beach and even into the water, what the hell? You got closer and read the sign attached, “Colored swimming”. Damnit, 1950s in Miami meant segregation. Assholes. You really wanted to storm up to all the white people and talk about racial equality and Obama but it wasn’t any use. You knew that somewhere in the country right now, Doctor King was rearing up to do the same thing and it made you smile. Until it didn’t. The terrible thing about time travel is that you have to keep everything as it was. Kind of like snooping in your parents' room when you’re a kid. Even the slightest thing out of place and it was trouble. So that meant, even the bad things, had to stay the same.

Feeling a little dejected and thinking you had some time, you decided to head back to the cubano cart and try one, you’re only in 1954 once right? You were walking back, head down, as you bumped into someone, literally.

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to hit ya.” Came a voice that made your blood run cold. A voice you hadn’t heard in six months. But that wasn’t possible, he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Steve?” You questioned, wide eyed and hopeful despite yourself. You took in the man before you. Even though he looked a little older, it was still him. Standing tall in front of you in khaki colored slacks and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, fuck what that did to you. You felt your mouth go dry despite yourself as you saw his tousled blond locks, no doubt loving the Miami sun. He had a pair of aviators slung into the collar of his shirt, pulling it down slightly. His crystal blue eyes stared at you in a mixture of awe and confusion.

“Y/N?” He questioned. The second his name left your lips the spell was broken. You wrenched your arm away from his hand and took a noticeably large step back from him. “What are you doing here?”

“None of your business Rogers.” You replied coldly, as you stormed off in the opposite direction. 2:29, you needed to find your target, you did NOT need this. You could feel tears rushing to your eyes and you tried your best to dab them away with your stupid gloves. You pulled your fingers from your eyes to see the white material smeared with black makeup.

“Y/N, wait!” You heard Steve call behind you and you knew you couldn’t escape him, couldn’t outrun Captain Fucking America, your ex. He grabbed your arm and forced you to turn around, to look at him. You felt your glassy eyes become devoid of emotion and hardened your stance.

“What!” You practically shouted at him. Daring him to say something, anything, to break the silence.

“Doll, what are you doing here? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He questioned, coming over to you and pressing both hands on your bare shoulders. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture like he used to do when you would get upset about something, his touch ignited something inside of you. Your body responded to him despite yourself. Remembering what he did to you, you shrugged his hands off of you.

“You don’t get to ask any questions Rogers, you lost that privilege when you left me.” You seethed, turning on your heels and making a beeline for the bathroom, pushing the door open and staring at your reflection in the mirror. You tried to take quick, calming breaths, knowing you only had moments before Steve came rushing through the door. Sure as sunshine Steve came through no less than three minutes later. He dutifully checked under all the stalls before he turned to face you again.

“You know what I mean, I mean what are you doing in 1954?” He questioned, face paling slightly. Looking like he’d seen a ghost and you guess for him, he did. He probably didn’t expect to see you today either, for obvious reasons.

“I’m looking for someone.” You stated petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the sink counter.

“Who could you possibly be looking for?” Steve wondered, walking closer to you.

“Some rogue Hydra agent came back to today to give important information to the higher ups and Fury wanted me to stop it.” You relented, letting out a sigh. “What are you doing here?” You questioned, nodding in his direction. “Shouldn’t you be in DC or something?”

Steve shuffled from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. You hated that you knew that about him. “Uh, I’m uh sort of on vacation...with, Peggy.” He responded, wincing at the last word like he dropped a bomb. Which he may well have.

You scoffed, chuckled as you turned away from him to face your reflection in the mirror. Would rather look at the mess you’d become than him, anywhere but him. “Why am I not surprised? You enjoying your cookie cutter white picket fence life Steve?” You questioned, not wanting to meet his eyes in the mirror but doing so despite yourself. He looked sad and downcast. As if he had the right.

“It’s not like that.” He defended, coming closer to you still.

“Cut the shit Steve.” You snapped, turning on your heel to face him. “You know the worst thing about what you did huh?” You questioned, not giving him time to answer before you kept going. “No matter how much I drank or how much I cursed you and your fucking pathetic life, I never got any goddamn closure. Never got a why. Guess I wasn’t good enough to warrant an explanation.” You snarked, moving around him to leave.

“Stop it.” Steve commanded, grabbing your arm and pulling your chest flush against his, it made your heart beat like a hummingbird was trapped in your chest. “It wasn’t like that. Do you know how much I thought about it? How many nights I sat in bed and…” Steve cut himself off, running his fingers through his hair.

“And what Steve? Say it.” You challenged, leaning your body up against his. Feeling how his every muscle responded to you, like waking up for the first time.

“And thought about you okay? God did I think about you, it was torture.” He admitted.

“Torture?” You questioned, walking him back until he hit the counter top, “You wanna know what was torture?” You asked, as you unbuckled his pants and began to palm his hardening length, “the knowledge that you left me for a fucking fantasy, that’s what’s torture. That I never meant anything to you.” You accentuated the word ‘anything’ by giving his cock a generous squeeze which had him groaning into the open air.

“You know- you know that’s not true.” He struggled to say as his hips began to buck to your ministrations. You loved that after eight years for him, you could still make him come undone like this.

“Show me.” You breathed into his ear, a challenge. One he happily accepted. He pulled on your neck and pressed his lips firmly against yours. They were needy and hot and demanding and you gave.

Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight. I need help believing you’re with me tonight.

His tongue demanded entrance into your mouth and you opened up for him, swallowing his moans as you continued to stroke him. Your teeth sank into his glorious bottom lip and he sighed as his hips thrust into your hand again. His hands moved all over your body. Splaying against your back, teasing the top of your breasts, and finally working their way under your dress until he found his target. His lips sought the column of your throat as one swift finger entered you, making you moan, which you promptly tried to stifle.

“Uh uh sweetheart, don’t you dare. I haven’t heard those precious sounds of yours in far too long.” He chastised lightly as he worked his finger inside of you, eliciting another groan from your mouth. You found your hips rocking against his palm and you suddenly pressed your hand against his arm, making him withdraw his finger. You slowly backed away from him, taking in his appearance. His lips were kiss bruised and his beautiful blue eyes were lust blown.

“I’m gonna do something I bet Peggy never does.” You teased as you got down on your knees in front of him. He looked at you with desire in his eyes that went straight to your core. You grasped his length once again and teased it, dragging the tip over your red and waiting lips. “Does she do this for you Stevie?” you questioned, looking at him through thick lashes. He simply shook his head no in response and a triumphant smile spread over your face. Slowly, you dragged your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck.” He seethed, hands going to the back of your head and gripping your hair. You took as much of him as you could into your wet and wanting mouth. Humming around his length in appreciation. He bucked his hips into you, making your eyes water but you didn’t care. You were reveling in the fact that Steve Rogers hadn’t had a blowjob in eight years and you were giving it to him.

The bathroom became a symphony of sounds. His moans and grunts and silent curses and your gagging and choking, trying to take as much of him as you could. You pulled him out of your mouth with a pop and rubbed the back of your hand across your mouth, smearing your saliva and his precum over your face and hand. He pulled you up and planted a scathing kiss to your lips, not caring that he tasted himself on your tongue.

He moved you so that you were facing your reflection once more and Steve was behind you, lining himself up against your now dripping cunt.

And just for this moment, as long as you’re mine. I’ve lost all resistance and crossed some borderline.

He slowly sank into you inch by inch, filling you out as you hadn’t been in six months. You let out a groan of appreciation and he let you adjust to him, his hands fisting the skirt material at your hips, waiting for you to move. You wiggled a little bit and he took the hint. He pulled out so only the tip was left inside before he slammed himself back into you so hard you saw stars. He continued at an unrelenting pace, hips snapping into your ass as he fucked you. You looked at the wanton reflection in the mirror and almost came on the spot.

Your hair, once nice and poised, was now a ruined mess. Your eyes looked utterly blissed out and half closed, your lipstick was a wreck and smeared all over your cheek. You looked back at Steve and he looked utterly blissed out. His mouth was slackjaw and pink from your lipstick and his hair was mused.

“Like what you see sweetheart?” Steve questioned before he slammed back into you. Your hand came up to the mirror in an effort to brace yourself as you let out a garbled moan as a response. Steve pulled out of you and you whimpered at the loss of contact before he turned you around and sat you on the counter.

“Need to see you babygirl.” He said, voice husky as he maneuvered himself between your thighs and sunk two fingers inside your weeping core.

“Fuck Steve.” You cursed, gripping his shoulders as he finger fucked you. His deft fingers massaged your walls as his hungry lips sought out yours in a frantic kiss. You kissed him back with a fury, grabbing fist fulls of blond hair as your hips rocked against his fingers. You could feel your high approaching. “Baby, I’m close.” You whimpered into his mouth. You felt him smile against you as he brought his thumb to rub your clit.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me huh? Cum all over my fingers baby.” He encouraged and his words sent you over the edge. You could feel your walls contract around his stilling fingers as he allowed you to ride out your high. Your hands went slack in his hair but only for a moment until he guided his member back to your core and sank himself in.

“Goddamn baby you still feel so good around me.” He marveled as he fucked you. You could feel every vein in his cock against your walls as he stretched and filled you out. You could feel your toes start to curl in carnal bliss. He undid the knot at the base of your neck and the front of your dress fell down, exposing your breasts to him. He growled as he bent down and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth, nibbling on the stiff peak. Your hands scrambled across his back, looking for purchase. You hadn’t been fucked this good since he left and you didn’t think you would be ever again, making the feeling that much more intense.

Every moment, as long as you’re mine. I’ll wake up my body and make up for lost time.

He pulled your nipple from his mouth and worked on sucking on your sensitive spot between your neck and collar bone. You reached a hand down to massage his balls as he fucked you and his answering groan sent a wonderful vibrating sensation across your skin. “Stevie, I think I’m gonna…” You couldn’t make a complete sentence you were so blissed out. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten for the second time in this beach bathroom in 1954. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer and Steve knew it too.

Say there’s no future for us as a pair. And though I may know, I don’t care.

He brought his hand down to massage your clit, getting you there faster. “Come with me baby, you know you want to.” He urged you on. Seeing him so fucked out and the way he looked at you like you still hung the moon for him was your undoing. You let out a garbled cry as you came gloriously around his cock. He thrusted a few more times before you felt him spill inside of you.

Just for this moment, as long as you’re mine. Come be how you want to, and see how bright we shine.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. He was growing soft inside of you as the two of you rested your foreheads against each other and tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled out of you and cleaned you up, before pressing a somber lingering kiss to your lips.

And if it turns out, it’s over too fast. I’ll make every last moment last.

You kissed him back, the tone sadder than when you started. He helped you off the counter and fixed you up. You were about to leave but he wrapped two strong arms around you, letting you rest your head against his chest and he rested his chin on your head, swaying you both in his arms to an invisible melody.

Borrow the moonlight until it is through. And know I’ll be here holding you.

Steve gently raised your chin with his finger and pressed one final kiss to your lips. You knew in your bones, that this was a kiss goodbye. So you let yourself enjoy it, not wanting to spoil the last moment you two would be in each others lives.

As long as you’re mine.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic #song fic #mcu fanfic #tbh this hurt to write and to proofread #sorry yall

41 notes · View notes

writinginthesparetime · 5 years

Text

A place far away pt5

pairing: actor!Park Haejin x student!reader

Warnings: famous!au ; college!au ; litte bit of swearing?

genre: fluff

previous: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 6

(If needed I will add more warnings and upload the genre tags in next chapters)

Summary:

So that’s how all started.

It was a rainy day in Seoul and I was the new girl in town. Precisely the new girl in college, just moved from europe to study abroad.

How could i ever imagine?

A/n: It’s a super long chapter, hopefully you’ll forgive me for taking this long!

————————————————

I woke up with the strongest headache I ever experienced. It felt like someone was hitting me with a cooking pan on my head.

I turned around hiding my face under the pillow with the hope to shut down all the sounds around me. The streets outside sounded like a war.

“Shit. Never again.” I whispered coughing. The movement made me nauseous, forcing me to get up and then run to the bathroom.

I got out a few moments later, tottering and pale.

“Y/n you look so bad.”

Nana was laying on the couch still in her pyjama, a wet cloth on her forehead and a hot water bag on her stomach.

“I see it’s a good morning to you too.” I said hinting a smile and sitting next to her. I started thinking again at the night before: we didn’t drink much, but for me it was enough. I got tipsy quickly.

I am not made to drink alcohol. That’s it.

“Y/n I don’t think I am able to offer you drinks tonight.”

“I could never accept. Not when I’m like this.” We both smiled.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered closing her eyes, still a smile on her face. “Tomorrow I’ll take you on this place, it’s a nice pub ten minutes away. They prepare the best martini cocktail.”

Just thinking about alcohol my stomach was upside down again. Nana giggled.

It took me six hours of sleep, some medicines, two litres of water and a hot shower to get out of drunkenness.

Incredible how, once I finished studying, It was already dinner time.

Nana knocked on my door just on time, as soon as my belly started complaining about the lack of food.

“I am hungry.”

“I had no doubts.”

Nana entered the room like a hurricane, throwing her hoodie on my bed and sitting on the only chair of the room, laying on the desk between my books.

“What about we order some pizza?” I proposed since just the idea of cooking made me tired. I didn’t ate all day because of my nausea and I started feeling a little bit hungry. Pizza felt like a good hangover food.

“Oh yeah.” She said throwing puns in the air.

“Pepperoni pizza?”

“Oh yeah.” She then looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “It’s your favourite pizza?”

“I’m a hoe for spicy.” I shrugged.

“I like you every day more and more.” Nana winked at me, then took her phone and called a number.

Half and hour later we were sitting on my carpet, with a maxi pizza between us.

“Your favourite ice cream?” I asked while eating. We didn’t stop asking each other those really silly questions.

“Vanilla, yours?”

“Mint and chocolate .” She almost chocked on her bite, hitting her chest.

“I take back everything I said to you early.”

“How.” I laughed. “Just for ice cream?”

“Just? You say JUST? What if we go eat ice cream and you order before me and some mint and chocolate gets on my precocious vanilla?”

“Then I’ll let you always order first.” I left the crust on the box. “I am full. And I don’t want to talk about favourite food ever again.”

“Ok so let’s talk about guys.” Nana shocked me, like any other day. I liked that she had this personality completely opposite of mine, but she was still able to make me feel comfortable, even about our diversity. “Or girls.”

“I am not interested.” I sipped my coke while rubbing my belly. Maybe I did ate too much.

“I don’t want to be another queer girl who says ‘you never know until you try’ but you will never know until you try.”

She was so confident talking about her sexuality, her life choices and her favourite dessert. Always smiling, Nana was ready to open up to me and reveal every shadow of herself, fearless and joyful.

Another thing I adore about her.

“I’ll let you know.”

“What do you like about a man?” she sipped her coke with a straw, looking me with eye big curious eyes.

“I don’t know, I had just a couple of crushes.”

“So you like everything?”

“Maybe.” I blushed.

“C’mon y/n, there must be something you find attractive. At least physically.” She was so curious I could tell by her pose: her upper body slightly closer to me, her head tilted and her eyes locked on mine. “Black hair or blonde? Blue eyes or dark eyes? Tall? Short? Fit?”

“I really don’t know ...” I moved next to the bed, laying on it. I looked up to the ceiling to focus. “I like tall guys.”

“That’s it?” I nodded. “Well, We still have 90% percent of the male population considering your height.” She looked at me like she was taking mental notes.

“I think I like guys with a pretty smile? Let’s say I don’t like serious guys, I like a man who smiles often. And he should be making me laugh often, so a pretty smile is important.”

“So we are talking about personality now. I’m listening y/n-nie.”

“Why so interested?” I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“We need to know each others, so if I eventually bump into a nice guy I want to know if he’s your type.”

“So you can arrange a date?” She nodded proudly.

“Nana!” I faked being offended, crossing my arms.

“If I tell you what I like in a partner, then will you open up?”

“That sounds fair.”

“I tend to gravitate to mysterious people, someone who doesn’t speak a lot. They make their self desired, they appear and disappear, you have to look for them, kinda run after.” I widened my eyes at her description.

“It sounds tiring.”

“But the best part is the chase.” Her eyes lightened.

“That’s a weird approaching to relationship.”

“Oh no no no.” She shook her hands. “Who talked about relationships? I am not ready for this.”

“But ... I thought that ... you talking about ... “

“That I want a love story?”

“Yeah?” I suddenly felt sorry.

“I am not interested for now.” She made a bitter sweet smile and started looking around.

“So ... I think I like funny guys, they have to make me laugh.” I started talking to interrupt the weird silence. “Of course they have to know when to act seriously and think. Maybe I’d like someone who can choose for me when I’m undecided, like they know the right thing for me.”

“That’s a good description.” Nana gave me her prettiest smile.

“So my ideal partner is the opposite of me.”

“Yeah, I got it. Especially the funny part.” She said seriously. I slapped lightly her shoulder and we both giggled.

“Thank you for yesterday, Nana.”

“You’re welcome.”

I closed the building’s door behind me, putting the key inside my purse. Nana was waiting for me a few step ahead.

“Really, thank you.” I repeated while fixing my hair. “I never had a girl talk about boys. It was fun.”

“We can do that again.” We started walking on the street, a cold September evening. But I felt this warm feeling on my chest. So that’s what a friendship looks like?

“You actually still have to tell me about that mysterious man.” I almost tripped.

“The mysterious man?” I stuttered.

“Yes. The man who offered you beer and got you drunk. The man who have beaten me on time.” She giggled.

“Ah.” I looked up, admiring the dark sky above. No stars for Seoul tonight. “I don’t think I’ll meet him again.”

“What do you mean?” She asked holding tight her coat. I looked her long legs walking fast against the cold breeze, high boots marking her steps.

“I’d actually prefer to know more why you forced me to wear my prettiest dress tonight.”

“Don’t change the subject.” She glanced at me. “What do you mean you don’t want to meet him again?”

“It’s not like I don’t want to.” I shrugged and we stopped at a street light, waiting to cross the road. Around us many people, of different ages, ready to enjoy the night out. “Seoul is so big.”

“Yes but you met three times already. He must lives around here.” She looked so impatient. I grabbed her arm and we crossed the road silently.

I didn’t like how every conversation lead to Hae-jin. Why Nana was so obsessed about him? She didn’t know his face, yet she sounded so enchanted about the whole story. And then the description of her ideal partner hit me.

“You have a crush on him.” I said bluntly. For once she was the one shocked.

“I believe you have.” Nana said quickly. “Yet I can’t deny he must be an interesting man.”

“Going back on my question, why are we so well dressed up for karaoke again? We are going to meet classmates.”

“Because Jackson will be there.” She smirked.

“Jackson who?Jackson from the makeup class? Jackson THAT JACKSON I talk to a few days ago? Nana what did you-“

“Nothing. Don’t worry. The fact is that he’s the only guy you ever talked to since you came to Seoul, if we exclude the mysterious man.”

“And so I have a crush on him?” I felt suddenly a burning feeling deep down, a mix between anger and embarrassment.

“Y/n-nie don’t worry, I just made sure he was actually coming.”

“But Nana I don’t know him. He is probably already thinking I’m into him.” I stopped her, while talking non sense. I hided my face with my hands, not even realising we were arrived at the karaoke.

“Well we’re here now.” She said smiling.

“He will think I dressed up for him.” Still desperate about the whole situation.

“Didn’t you?” She teased me, then she came closer, holding my shoulders and trying to hearten me.

“I’m here to protect you. If he became a weirdo we just leave.”

“Girls! Y/n!” We both turned to the building entrance. “We are waiting for you, but surely the guys already started without us.”

Jackson welcomed us with his most precious smile. He then lead us through the long hallway until the very last room. We could already hear singing voices and loud pop music.

Jackson offered to take our coats and put them inside the lockers for us. Nana undressed quickly and entered into the room, not without winking at me secretly.

“How are you?” Jackson asked me while I was giving him my coat. I was nervous, maybe already sweating.

“F-fine, you?”

I hated this.

I hated this whole situation.

Yesterday the idea of talking to him privately didn’t bother me. Now my palms were sweating and I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Good, I was looking for meeting you tonight.”

Ah.

I faked a smile and actually run inside the room before we could keep on talking.

The room was dark, just blue and pink lights to create a party vibe. The music was loud, but the voices singing the refrain of this song were even louder.

Nana quickly grabbed me from my uncomfortable feeling and lead me to a bright display.

“Let’s do a duet. Just pick one.” She screamed to overcome the music, yet her voice sounded like a whisper.

“I don’t know korean, and I don’t know Kpop.” I screamed too.

“Then I choose.” The display showed the longest list of songs ever and Nana typed some letters. I sighed as soon as I realised she picked ‘Ehy Jude’ by The Beatles. She noticed my relaxed face and smile.

And the the whole thing hit me. I had to sing in front of an audience, that now looked like a crowd.

Nana grabbed my hand and we were quickly facing the big tv display. With her free hand she gave me a microphone. She smiled, heartening me and giving me a tiny bit of courage.

The song started playing and we did too. First phrases sang with closed eyes, to avoid any possible eye contact.

But everyone was singing with us, voices mixing. Nana tightened her grip and kept on smiling for me.

At some point without even realising, we ended up jumping and laughing and being breathless.

The song was maybe too short and we received a round of applauses. A new couple started singing right after us.

“You’re finally relaxed.”

“I don’t think I ever saw y/n laughing so much.” Jackson surprised both of us.

“Jackson!” I squeaked.

“I am sorry.” He said while bowing. We giggled.

Instinctively, I looked for my phone to take a photo to remember the moment, but I quickly realised I was wearing a dress without pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Nana asked while tapping on rhythm.

“My phone. Maybe it’s on my coat.” I said after checking inside the purse too.

“Forgot something?” Even Jackson got curious.

“My phone.” I screamed.

“What?”

Nana forced me to get up and go. Always hiding a wink for me. So I had to get out, obviously followed by Jackson who held the door open for me.

“I forgot my phone in my coat.” I said hastily opening the locker. “Here it is.”

“Do you want to go outside a minute? To get some fresh air.” I held the phone tight on my chest.

“Outside?”

“Yes, I need to smoke.” I didn’t know what to do, so I nodded.

He quickly took my coat helping me to wear it, he then took his and wore it. Inside his right pocket, he grabbed a lighter and a pack of cigarets.

“Do you smoke y/n?” He asked while walking on the hallway.

“Not really.”

We exited the building and he lighted his cigarette. The whole movement made me stare at him.

Sexy.

And that’s the only thing I could think. Sexy.

Wow y/n. You literally just had an argument with Nana because she decided to kinda set up a date and that’s what you do?

Jackson lifted one eyebrow, blowing some smoke from an angle of the mouth.

Sexy.

“S-so ... have you b-been smoking for a while?” I stuttered looking around. I ended up watching a group of people waiting below a street light.

“Yes, for a while.” He repeated giggling. “Have you ever tried?”

“Not really.”

“Here.” Jackson got up just to hand me a cigarette and his blue lighter.

My gaze moved from the street light, now green, to my hands.

“I d-don’t need it, t-thanks.” I turned, almost shaking.

“Give it a try. Nothing bad will happen.” He shrugged, a smirk on his face.

I wanted to tell him that so many things could happen. Smoking leads to addiction, I could get hurt, and worst of all I could enjoy it.

“I’m fine, thanks.” I tried to hand it back. He kept smoking ignoring me. “Jackson ...”

He reached my hand just to hold them tight.

“I don’t want it back.” He said smirking.

I started panicking, feeling the pressure of doing something. I didn’t want to smoke, everything suddenly felt weird. Maybe I could give it to Nana, she definitely knew a smoker, or I could throw it in a bin on my way home. I was sweating, feeling Jackson’s gaze on me.

I looked up hearing steps coming closer, a group of people walking and chatting loudly.

“Y/n you’re so cute when you act naive.” Jackson laughed, finishing his cigarette.

“I ... don’t .... “ I was speechless, I wanted to leave.

The group of people divided in half, to avoid hurting me while walking, and I heard them talking clearly about work, projects, school.

And suddenly a fear hit me. The fear of always living like this: invisible in the crowd and uncomfortable.

“Hae-jin Oppa, tomorrow we need to go to the tailoring shop.”

This name made me turn right away. The answer to this phrase, soft and kind, confirmed my thoughts.

“Hae-jin?” I called. So quietly that I didn’t even heard myself. No one turned around and the group kept walking away. I made a little step ahead. “Hae-jin?”

I called again, this time louder. A few people turned, and so he did. His gaze first confused became quickly relief.

“Y/n?”

And suddenly I didn’t feel lonely again.

Hae-jin moved closer, distancing from who I thought were his collogues. A well dressed girl gave me a quick glance.

“Y/n, how are you? You look pale.” Hae-jin talked so softly, his voice like a caress, his only presence calmed me. “I am so embarrassed about how we left the other day.” His smile made me even forget I was actually angry at him.

Maybe not actually angry. But a feeling between disappointment and confusion.

“It’s my fault.” I said bowing.

“No, please, let me apologise.” Hae-jin bowed profoundly. My hands reached his shoulder.

“Please, you don’t need to ...”

“What’s this-“ Hae-jin looked at me confused while he was looking around suspicious. “Is t-this tobacco?”

A hot feeling hit me, my cheecks turning red. Embarrassed, I closed my hands into fists, but he noticed. Always with a gentle touch, he grabbed my hands and found the cigarette.

“Do you smoke y/n?” This question again, disappointing in his voice.

“N-no, actually...” I couldn’t end the sentence because I found myself pointing at Jackson who was turning off his cigarette by stepping on it. He looked up, his gaze stopping on me and then on Hae-jin.

It took me three seconds to understand what a mistake I made.

#park hae jin #park hae jin x y/n #park har jin x reader #park haejin #actor #college #student #chapter #fluff #story #imagine #reaction #kdrama #south korea #korean actor #original #kactor #y/n #writing in the spare time

39 notes · View notes