#so I’m trying to write again and striving to finish this damn thing in the next year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

training.

| stucky x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. plz write a squirting fic with stucky & Bucky holds the reader down

dom!stucky helping you train & things get steamy

“Y/N, let’s go,” Steve called, watching you stretch in the corner of the gym. You nodded, bouncing to your feet and walking up to the mat in the center of the room.

The training room was empty, barring you, Steve, and Bucky. School kept you busy during the day, leaving you to practice your fighting and defense at night. You didn’t mind, preferring to have the gym to yourself, able to train privately with your two super-soldier boyfriends.

“Driving me crazy watching you stretch like that,” Bucky stated, taking your hand and helping you onto the sparring mat.

Both boys struggled to keep their eyes off of you when you showed up to train in tiny spandex shorts and a sports bra. It was easier to move that way, and you needed all the help you could get during their intense sessions. Both men were shirtless, and your adrenaline was pulsing with sexual energy. You pushed the impure thoughts out of your head, trying to focus so you didn’t get the life beaten out of you.

Steve watched as you practiced dodging hits from Bucky, moving swiftly out of the way of the blows. He tried to grab you, and you dropped low, managing to sweep him off of his feet by grabbing his ankle and yanking it out from under him.

“Damn,” Steve smirked at you proudly, and you jumped on top of Bucky, shoving him back down before he could get up.

“Think you’re so fucking smooth?” Bucky asked, flipping the two of you over, pinning you down to the mat. The surface was cold against your back, and amusement flashed in his silver eyes, along with lust, his eyes trailing down your body. He loved pinning you below him, proving that your body would bend to his will, even during your training. Steve adjusted himself, knowing he couldn’t get this hard while you worked, because he was up to work with you next.

You used the instant of Bucky’s distraction to bring your knee up to his abdomen. He shouted, loosening his grip on you, unintentionally allowing you to slip out from under him. You kicked him down, standing on top of his back with a pleased grin.

“How was that, Captain?” you asked Steve cheekily.

“Very good, honey,” he tried not to laugh.

Bucky knocked you off, and you fell hard against the mat.

“Hey! You’re not allowed to be mad that I’m doing well!” you cried, the breath knocked out of you from the impact.

He slapped your ass, not caring that you were succeeding in combat training. You shrieked at the sting that spread through your skin, and you gave Bucky a vicious look. You were annoyed at how aroused you were getting, at the action certainly didn’t help.

“Buck, that’s enough.”

Steve walked over, helping you to your feet. You thanked him, giving Bucky another scathing look.

“Hey, cut the attitude. Go run,” Steve said, pointing to the padded track that stretched around the perimeter of the gym. You sighed but obeyed, jogging around the room.

“Fuck, she’s going to kill me,” Bucky whispered, watching your body bounce as you ran. Steve agreed, definitely admiring your ass. You could feel their heated gazes, and it made you slick between your thighs. You had to train, but you were quickly going hungry for sex.

You joined them once you finished your lap, sweat giving your skin a sheen. Bucky whistled at you, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping your lips.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. You were startled about how starved it was, his tongue instantly pushing into your mouth. He gripped your ass in his hands, and Steve scolded the two of you.

You boxed with Steve, doing the drills that Bucky shouted out at you. Your breathing increased, your chest rising and falling quickly and your body bouncing on the mat as you delivered punches and kicks to the pads he held.

The boys didn’t care as you grew tired, and you wrestled with Bucky, rolling around on the mat. Your thighs went around his head as you tried to roll the two of you over, but he knocked you down, his hands pinning you to the mat as he buried his face between your legs.

“I want to fuck you so damn bad,” he growled into the spandex, making you moan with need, unable to hide it any longer.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged.

“Sergeant, to you. We’re still training,” Steve corrected, your eyes rolling back at the command.

Your hips were shoved to the ground, and Bucky climbed over you, kissing up your bare torso.

“Doll, you wanted to get fucked, didn’t you? Wearing the one you know I like,” he growled, nipping at you through the sports bra that held you in place.

“Yes, Sergeant,” you answered, trying to roll your hips up into his.

Bucky pulled down the zipper with his teeth, freeing you as the sports bra fell open. Steve swore, tossing his sweats off, kneeling down behind your head.

Bucky couldn’t keep his hands from your chest, tugging at your nipples and making you squeal and writhe under him.

“Want your Captain to fuck your mouth?” Bucky asked, smirking at you.

“Yes, please!” You parted your lips, making Steve laugh darkly and cradle your head in his large hands.

“So needy, honey. You’re so horny you’ll take dick anywhere you can get it, huh?” Steve teased, and you felt yourself growing even more soaked.

You moaned as he fucked into your mouth, burying himself in your throat. Steve groaned as you opened your jaw, running your tongue along the veins of his cock.

“Fuck,” he swore, his blonde head falling back. He struggled not to slam into your throat, being careful as he rolled forward steadily.

You jolted as Bucky lightly bit down on your soft skin, delighting in the sound you made. He let off you, kneeling between your legs and pulling the spandex from your hips.

“She’s fucking soaked, Stevie,” he gasped, running his fingers through your glistening slit.

“All that from being thrown around by us?” Steve asked, knowing very well you couldn’t answer with your mouth still full of him.

Bucky held your thighs open before his tongue replaced your fingers, the muscle dragging through your folds and pushing inside of you with shallow thrusts. You moaned around Steve, making the soldier’s hips stutter.

Bucky ate you out, holding your hips still and pressing his tongue flat against your cunt, making you squeal around Steve.

“I’m going to come, honey,” Steve’s voice was deep and raspy, sending heat shuddering through you.

You gripped his thighs on either side of your head as he spilled down your throat, filling your mouth with his taste. You swallowed all of it, your eyes glassy as you gazed up at him.

“So good for your Captain,” he praised you, leaning down to press a heady kiss to your lips.

“Bucky!” You yelled as you came, gushing onto his chin, gasping as he lapped it all up.

“You look so hot when you come, doll,” Bucky wiped his mouth, letting you catch your breath.

You started to get up, but Steve stopped you, his hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you into a messy makeout session, distracting you as Bucky pried your legs back open.

Steve laid you back down on the mat, groping your tits as Bucky knelt between your thighs.

“Beg, doll,” Bucky smirked, brushing his tip against your clit, through your folds, teasing you.

“Please fuck me, Sergeant. I need to feel you in my pussy,” you whined, biting your lip and arching your back off of the floor. Steve smirked as you shuddered under his touch.

He rolled forward into you, stretching you out and satiating your throbbing need to be filled. Pleasure erupted through your body and you moaned, pushing your hips against his, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

The air was thick and sexually charged. You were sensitive from your first orgasm, and you shuddered as Bucky’s tip brushed against your g-spot. The pressure was quickly rebuilding in your belly, and you were dangerously close to a second orgasm as Bucky rocked steadily into your pussy, encouraged by Steve’s teasing hands.

“I’m close, I can’t hold it,” you warned, unable to fight it off.

“You’re going to wait until we tell you, doll,” Bucky ordered, squeezing your thighs. Tears threatened to fall as you tried to hold back, and a choked shriek escaped you as he came inside of you, riding out his own orgasm with shallow thrusts, painting the inside of your velvet walls with his release.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” you squeezed his wrist, your vision blurring.

“Go ahead,” Steve granted you permission, and the pressure gave way, sending a powerful orgasm rushing through you. Your legs were shaky under Bucky’s hands, all of your nerves sparking like a live wire. Tears slid from your eyes, and Steve kissed them off your cheeks.

“You look so gorgeous when you fell apart, honey, all spread open and getting fucked here on the floor,” his deep voice shot down your spine and settled in your cunt. Bucky felt your walls seize around him at Steve’s lewd words rolling from his lips.

“Does it turn you on to hear Steve tell you filthy things?” Bucky asked, his gaze alerting you that he demanded an answer.

“Yes!” you confessed, blushing.

There was no reason to be embarrassed about it, especially given what you were doing. They reveled in seeing you so shy, tearing your walls down as they took turns fucking the doubt from your mind. Neither of the boys teased you to shame you, they ate up your confidence in your sexuality, and they wanted to know how best to please you. Despite their dominance over you, they did everything for you, striving to extract as much pleasure from you as possible.

And fuck, they were so good at it.

You’d never experienced anything like the two of them, and any relationship or sex that predated them was rendered completely irrelevant. They blew your mind over and over again, taking you to heights of pleasure you had no idea were even possible.

“I know you have another one in you, doll,” Bucky grinned, and you blushed, shaking your head.

“I’ve already come twice-”

“You can do it again, it’ll feel so good, I promise,” Steve kissed you, dragging you back onto his lap. He pushed his legs between yours, spreading you open on top of his body.

You were hypersensitive already, and out of breath from the training and sex with the men who had superhuman stamina. Steve’s fingers pushed inside of you, curling forward and brushing your spongey walls, making you writhe on his lap. Bucky’s lips caught yours, tasting Steve still on your tongue. You moaned into his mouth as Steve fingered you quickly, lewd noises filling the gym as his fingers slid in and out of your pussy, slick from both yours and Bucky’s come. Bucky’s hand went between you, rubbing your clit as Steve pushed two fingers deep inside of you. He leaned back on his heels, watching you squirm and beg incoherently for more.

“Captain!” you shrieked, about to snap.

White-hot euphoria burned through you like fire, searing everything inside of you and swirling in your clit. You screamed and pulled on Steve’s hair as it shattered, electricity sparking through every inch of your skin. You squirted all over their hands and the padding below you, soaking everything between your legs. You panted, trying to draw air into your lungs and recover from the intensity, melting back into Steve’s arms.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Bucky praised you, making your cheeks rosy. You’d never done that before, and you were suddenly shy around them, hiding your face.

“You alright, baby? That was a lot, huh?” Steve chuckled softly, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly against him.

“Yes, holy shit,” you swore, closing your legs and curling up into Steve.

Your legs were still trembling slightly, even once they’d cleaned you up enough to slide your shorts back up your legs and rezipping your bra so you could walk through Stark Tower back to your room.

“You did great, doll.” Bucky kissed your cheek before following you back to your room, turning on the shower as Steve set you down.

“I’m not letting you shower with me, I can’t go another round, and I know you two. Go shower and come back,” you laughed, pushing them out of your bathroom.

You got clean, sitting on the tiled seat in your shower, still weak on your feet. Once the water started to go cold, you got out and dried off. You searched through your things, pulling a clean pair of cotton shorts on your legs and Bucky’s NASA hoodie, letting the fabric swallow you up. You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing in Bucky’s scent that lingered on his clothes, like sandalwood and lemons. It instantly relaxed you, taking the edge off of your raw nerves.

Your muscles were a little sore, and you grabbed a bottle of lotion from your dresser. The door opened and Steve and Bucky entered, Steve immediately going to stretch out on your bed. Bucky smiled when he saw you in his hoodie, and he hugged you from behind, kissing the back of your head.

“Do you mind?” you asked, handing him the bottle.

“Of course not.”

You sat on the bed and Bucky massaged the lotion into your muscles, patiently listening to you talk about your day. Steve’s soft blue eyes never left yours, playing with your fingers, his head resting in your lap.

“Can we skip training tomorrow? I’m exhausted,” you asked, and Bucky smirked.

“Yeah, I suppose you can have one day off.”

“So generous,” you giggled, leaning into his side as he settled down next to you.

“We can always work out another way,” Steve suggested teasingly.

2K notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

Note

I don't know if you've done this before :( but could you maybe write about the Obey me brothers after an argument with MC?? Like a fight make up kind of situation??

400 years later.....

Well, maybe not that long, but certainly long enough. I'm sorry >.<. Hope this doesn't put you off on sending other things because I did like doing this one!

Obey me Brothers + MC After a Fight

Lucifer

It was late into the evening when you heard the knock at your door. Before you could ask who it was, you heard the even timber of Lucifer’s voice behind the door. “[Y/N], it’s me. May I come in?” There was a long pause than usual between his introduction and question, seeming to debate asking, or your response, before he asked it.

To be honest, he had a right to be cautious because you weren’t sure what your answer would be before you opened your mouth. “Yes. Come in.”

The heavy door opened and Lucifer stepped in. Prim and as well stationed as ever, but the confidence normally in his face diminished just the slightest. “I…came to apologize.” The words seem to want to drag out of his throat. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. Not the best start for an apology.

“You didn’t have to treat me that way.” You tell him. Telling you like a child in front of everyone. Getting your hand smacked for something you didn’t even do. No coming to give some lack luster, dutiful apology he doesn’t mean. “And don’t say your sorry if you’re not.”

“I am sorry.” Lucifer insisted, before he took a deep breath and tried to relax. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that in front of everyone. I was upset, and took it out on you. Sometimes you’re an easy target because I know you’ll care for me no matter what I do. We always hurt most the ones we love.” Your cheeks tint at the comment. Damn him and his suave words.

The demon makes the effort to cross the threshold and take your hands. “Please know that I am truly sorry for my behavior. I will strive to never make you feel foolish, or less than, again. My mission in life now is to show you how much more than I find you over everyone else.”

You roll your eyes a little at the comment. “Let’s not get carried away. You’re starting to sound like Asmo.”

You giggle when Lucifer gave a forced, disgusted shutter. He then lifted your hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “Am I forgiven?” He asked.

“I suppose.” Annoyingly, he was right. You would always care for, and love him, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

“Good,” he said, with his usual prideful smile, “I’m glad. I do plan to still make it up to you though. So make no plans for Saturday.”

“Will do.” You agreed. Giving him a tiny salute. He then left to let you finish getting ready for bed. Ideas of how he’d ‘make it up to you’ swirling in your head.

Mammon

There was a sharp rap at your door that rung out clear in your room over your headphones. You were curious who was here at this hour, but got up to go answer the door before the tried again.

You open the door and are immediately confronted with a bundle of flowers being shoved in your face. Almost to the point of the blooms bursting against your cheeks. You stagger, at the afront of color, and the bouquet is pulled back slightly to reveal Mammon behind them. “I…bought you these flowers. To say I’m sorry.” The more he talked the more his voice trailed off. His normally confidence draining like the color from his face.

“Isn’t it rather cliché to buy someone flowers to apologize?”

Mammon flinched at your criticism. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you don’t like them I’ll buy you something else. Anything you want! Just please…talk to me.” Please forgive me, was what he was really saying.

You look at the demon for a moment. His defeated stance not fitting into his character at all. Ironic, since the fight was about Mammon being too full of himself. Confidence was one thing, but ever now and then it was too much, and when you tried to talk to him about it he turned on you. He had immediately regretted it, but you refused to talk to him for several days after to cool off.

Apparently, that was the worse punishment he could think of.

“You don’t need to buy me anything Mammon. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Really??” He asked. Seeming unsure of what he’d heard or that he could trust you.

“Really.” You repeat, and immediate find yourself in his arms. Your flowers falling to the floor as he hugged you.

“Thank you [Y/N]! I’ll never do anything stupid like that again! I promise!”

“Well now, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.” You tease. Patting his back. “We all make mistakes Mammon. I’ll be angry with you sometimes, but I generally forgive you. How can I stay mad at my ‘First Man’ for long?” His hold on you tightened a little. It lingered for a moment longer before he let you go.

“Yeah. Right. Don’t you forget it.”

Levi

You were getting ready to head downstairs when there was a knock at your door. It was a surprise, since you were going down to meet everyone. So who was up here now? You open the door and find everyone’s favorite otaku, out of his hole and in front of your door, staring at you.

“Y-Y-You…You weren’t answering my texts.” Levi finally got out.

“That should have been a hint.” You tell him. Perhaps a bit more curt than need be.

The bluenette straightened in alarm before his shoulder slumped again. “I know. I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me! I know I can get a little…-“crazy?” You interjected –“excited about my games and stuff, but I really didn’t mean to snap at you!”

The two of you had been playing some new quest game that was all the rage apparently on the deep otaku net. Supposedly it was unbeatable. No one had actually ever seen the final boss ending yet. Which of course meant Levi was determined to be the first. Confident that his eons of experience wouldn’t lead him astray.

Sadly, the legends of the unbeatable game were true. And after hour after hour of crushing defeat Levi snapped and took it out on you. He’s locked himself in his room after. Ashamed, and upset that he hurt you; if his texts were anything to go off of.

“I threw the game away and I’ll never play it again. I promise! I’ll never go all rage beast mode on you again as long as I live! Just please forgive me and talk to me again!”

“Oh Levi, it’s not that serious.” You insist as you reach out your hand to his clasped ones in front of you. Reassuring him. “We all get a little crazy when things don’t go our way. I forgive you. In the future lets try to play games that are a little less….taxing on our relationship, if we can manage.”

“R-R-R! Relationship!” Levi stammered. Turning bright red in front of you, which made you giggle. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Really frying his circuits. Maybe it was a little bit out of you missing Levi when you were fighting. And maybe it was also his ‘punishment’ for the fight as well.

Satan

Tucking into your homework for the evening, you look up from your desk when there was a knock at the door. It was sharp, to the point. You immediately knew who it was, and debated not answering. However, that would be rude and a level of pettiness not even you could manage.

“Hello Satan,” you greet when you open the door. Correct in guessing who was there. “How can I help you?”

The blonde seemed wounded by your formality, usually such a champion of manners. But he was a clever man and knew you were doing it to put some distance between you. “I came to apologize.”

“As you should.” Ok. Maybe you were a little pettier than you like to admit.

“You’re right, and I should have been here sooner. I was just….embarrassed.” Satan ran his fingers through his hair. “He just makes me so angry sometimes! Being so high and mighty. Bossing us around. I try to keep it under control but….I can’t.” Given he is the Avatar of Wrath, it’s a wonder he made any effort to keep his rage in check. Everyone says he was getting better though. Even his relationship with Lucifer was getting better; even with this spat. “It pains me more than I can tell you to know that I upset you in the process. Turning on you like that like an idiot when you were only trying to help. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t very like you.” You admit, and Satan gave a single, bitter scoff.

“Maybe not now. Maybe with you.” Cautiously he reached out his hand to take yours in a gentle hold. “But I am sorry. Please know that I’ll strive to not let my anger get the better of me again.”

“I’m sure you will.” You said. Squeezing his hand back. “And, I forgive you. I should know by now not to get involved with any of your fights. But I care about you all so much.”

“But you care about me most, yes?” He asked with a soft smile. To which you giggle and kiss his cheek.

“Yes. I care for you most.”

Asmo

It was late afternoon when you heard the knock at your door. Typically, everyone was off doing their own activities at this hour, so it was a surprise to have someone looking for you. You open the door cheerfully at first, but then frowned. “Oh. Hello Asmo.”

“Hello [Y/N]-kun.” Asmo greeted brightly, but you could tell it was forced. “I…wanted to come see you. To apologize. For acting so ugly earlier.”

It’s not often that Asmo lost his temper. He usually left that to his silly, older brothers. Rising above in dignified beauty, as he liked to put it. But every now and then it got the best of him, and his tongue was sharper than any knife in the draw when he got that way.

“What you said really hurt Asmo.”

“I know,” he admitted frowning. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it. Look at these bags!” You frown as he pointed to his under eyes, and he realized he was being selfish again. “I’m sorry I said such awful things the other day. I don’t have an excuse or fix for it. Except to say that I’m sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”

You let out a soft sigh at his words. He did seem sincere. It was a little odd to see Asmo so down. “Alright, I forgive you.” The demon immediately perked up with his usual smile and took your hands in his.

“Thank you [Y/N]! Let me take you out shopping, as a further apology. I’ll buy you anything you like!”

“So we’ve resorted to bribery now?” Asmo giggled at your joke and you nod. “I’ll right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out. Anything I want?” Asmo nodded and made some suggestions on what you could spend his money on as you walked. Inevitably ending up on lingerie, which earned him a smack.

Beel

You had just gotten back from class when you heard the knock at the door. It startled you. You had only just gotten back a moment ago, so what remarkably good timing.

You finish taking off your uniform jacket before you open the door. Startled, yet again, to find Beel behind it. “Beel?”

“Hi [Y/N].”

An awkward silence filled the space, one that hadn’t been there since you first arrived in the Devildom, before you spoke. “I uh…was going to change. I just got back from class.”

“I know. I waited for you to come back.” The red head confessed. Nervously scratching the back of his head. “I wanted…to talk. I wanted to apologize.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You reply. Now nervously scratching the back of your head as well. “If anything I should apologize.”

Beel was so sweet and kind. But sometimes, his ‘space cadet ways’ over anything that didn’t involve food or fitness was very hard to deal with. He’d forgotten you were supposed to meet, yet again, so when he showed up an hour late for your date yesterday you had given him an ear full. He’d been hurt, but took it. Now you just felt bad, like you had kicked a puppy, with it over.

“But I should have remembered. It’s not fair that I forgot when we were supposed to meet. Again.” He looked upset with himself and fidgeted with his hands. “I really am sorry I forgot. I don’t want you to think you’re not important or anything. I’m just dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You scold Beel. Not accepting him putting himself down like that. “Can’t we just agree that we’re both at fault. You should have remembered, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. Can’t we just….make up? I hate fighting with you.”

Beel smiled softly and leaned forward to give you a hug. “I hate fighting too. I think I’ll be ok if we both take blame. That seems fair.” He let you go and stepped back. Seeming back to his usual, easy going self already. “Do you want to do a make up date? If you’re free. I can take you to Madam Scream’s or we can go get Fire Iceies.”

You giggle and nod. “Sure. That would be wonderful.”

Belphie

It was so late at night when you heard the knock at your door that, initially, you thought you dreamt it.

Hearing it again, you woke up and threw on your robe over your pjs to go answer the door. Groggy, and a little concerned as to who could be here at this hour. Something must be wrong.

“Belphie?” You question in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” He said. Remarkably less groggy than you were for a change. “I had to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?” You question. Getting more alert and annoyed at being woken up by him.

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Imagine that.” His fingers twirl at his long bangs while he looked down at the floor. “I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” You repeat. Shocked, more than anything, that he was here to apologize. Not that he did deserve an apology to you, you just didn’t think he’d do it.

“Yes. To apologize. Can we make up now?”

“That’s it??” You remark after his ‘apology’. “You say you’re sorry like that and I’m just supposed to forgive you?”

“Yes. That’s how apologies work.”

“No it isn’t!” You snap. Louder than you wanted to with the late hour. You set your teeth and wheeze through them. You don’t want to start another fight. “You apologize because you feel bad about something and want to make it up to the person. It has to be sincere.”

“I am being sincere.” Belphie insisted. “This is sincere as I get.”

“Well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” You reply. Crossing your arms.

It was Belphie’s turn to sigh at you. “Look. I’m not like Asmo or the others who are great with words. I came to apologize, and that’s it. I was wrong and I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”

“Why do you even want to say your sorry? If you don’t sound like you mean it.”

“Because I hate you being angry with me.” You blink in surprise at Belphie’s confession, and he sighed again. “I hate it. I hate not talking to you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, but if you hate me, I can’t stand it. So, I came to apologize. To do anything so you wouldn’t hate me anymore.”

You uncross your arms and scrunch your lips a little bit. “That’s a better apology.” He looked back up at you with a questioning look. Seeming surprised that he had ‘done good’. “And, I don’t hate you. Just because I’m angry with you, for good reason, doesn’t mean I hate you. I could never hate you.”

The demon smiled softly. His expression tired, but hopeful. “Thanks [Y/N].”

“Now, we need to get back to bed. It is the middle of the night after all. And we have school.”

“Ok.” Belphie agreed. Then stepped into your room and made way to your bed.

“In your own room mister!”

611 notes · View notes

jazzythursday · 3 years

Text

I’m about to go into another very long Marvel rant/dissertation here— mostly for myself— that I started writing soon after the Loki Series finale so please feel free to just scroll past this, because honestly I think I kinda overdid this one. It’s jaded and overly dramatic even for me. You have been warned:

The last 4 Marvel movies/shows I’ve watched left me feeling so completely depressed and unsatisfied and hopeless about the future of popular entertainment and story telling in general, and I know I’m not the only one. The fact that fans are going into these experiences hoping for a good story and character arcs that make sense with prior characterization, and leaving feeling… empty is a very clear sign that their approach leaves a lot to be desired.

Infinite War had some valid reasons to end the way it did, because by having our heroes fall so much harder than ever before, it built up the tension and high stakes for the next film. But what does that do when Endgame leaves us feeling even worse? I wanted them to triumph and finally come together to be better. I expected there would be losses of course but not enough to negate the wins. Instead the characters were subjugated for plot, characterization was watered down, and we lost all the original Avengers besides Thor and Bruce (who was no longer even Bruce). Peter loses Tony, Thor’s previous loses are permanent, and so many other things that, in spite of loving a lot of the movie, mean I haven’t been able to stop being sad about it for literal years. And the amount of thoughtless destruction that seems to be at an all time high when it comes to character’s lives and disregard for properly exploring emotions just doesn’t leave much to be expected at this point. Far From Home was good. It was. I liked it a lot. The acting was wonderful and there were some really interesting themes they grappled with but I still walked out of the theater feeling like there was still so much detachment surrounding a lot of the decisions, a little too much thoughtlessness (that, and the gaping hole of Tony). I’m not going to talk about WandaVistion but I’ll say that I was invested until the start of episode 8, and finished episode 9 feeling drained and tired and sad.

Then we get to Loki, a show which has plagued far too many of my thoughts since I started watching it, and has crushed my hopes for ever truly being happy with a Marvel project ever again. Loki is a character who’s ostensibly felt alienated and unseen for most of his life, and that’s before finding out about his parentage. His first movie ends with his suicide attempt and subsequent fall into the void. His second takes place a year into working under Thanos and ends with him being taken away in chains (yes I know he’s the villain he’s done bad things etc. etc. but for the purposes of this I’m only focusing on his pov). Then his third involves his solitary imprisonment, his mother’s death, and his near-death (considering the likelihood that he was actually stabbed), although it does end on a lighter note with his acquisition of the throne. Then we get his redemption and reconciliation with Thor in Ragnarok, immediately followed by the utter tragedy that is the first 10 minutes of Infinite War, which I don’t think I need to explain.

So what I suppose I’m saying here (very very inadequately) is that after all of that, I can’t believe the proper story to tell in his first chance at being a main protagonist was one where he’s constantly degraded and beat up, convicted of things he didn’t actually do, given no focus on backstory or implied/established motivations, and labeled as a clown and a narcissist! His powers are weakened, he displays almost no recognizable mannerisms or competence, he’s held to a higher moral standard than every other character, shown no respect, and ultimately loses EVEN MORE. We’ve seen him lose and lose and lose and lose again. We’ve seen him die THREE TIMES, we’ve seen him redeemed TWICE. So who in their right mind thinks that the most compelling story to tell after all of that was to see him LOSE AGAIN?! And not only lose, but lose without any real triumph, dignity, or acknowledgment beforehand. Death to the author aside, reading the utter nonsense the team behind it have spread, it’s so clear that it wasn’t made in good faith. Whether in ignorance or true maliciousness, they just don’t care. They didn’t research. They didn’t try and see things from his point of view. They didn’t truly sympathize with him as a person while writing. They didn’t understand. And they truly, truly wanted him to fail.

I’m tired of feeling hopeless at the end of everything, of leaving the theater or turning off the TV wondering why I even bothered, why I even care when I’m just being strung along with as little consideration as an audience as my favorite characters. I wanted to actively see him strive to be better, not just be told he could be. I wanted to see him triumph over his demons, not forget them. I wanted to see him be the “master of magic” that every other damn movie has alluded to, and to use his powers effectively. I wanted him to be powerful. I wanted him to, if not win, then win on a personal level at least. I wanted to see him take agency in his life and PROVE EVERYONE WRONG! And, though it’s now bafflingly controversial to say, I wanted it to be told by an experienced and competent writing and directing team that knew and understood his character and were passionate about telling his story.

I would ascribe to the notion of “don’t like it, don’t watch” if I could but I care to much to not be affected by this obvious decline in quality and awareness. And I’m a relatively recent fan. I haven’t been waiting for Loki to get his moment in the sun for 10 years. I’M NEW HERE, and my heart breaks so much for fans of the original movies who have lost their love of Marvel or Loki because of the way it’s been handled. No one should fall further than they can climb up from, and I’m tired of watching loss after loss and never getting the release of gaining enough of it back. What’s the point of caring about these characters if the writers won’t? Of investing in a connecting cinematic universe if it lacks continuity? Of looking for clues and foreshadowing when there isn’t any and the only twists are random and pander to shock value? The way these pieces/characters are being created and interpreted is reductive and incompetent, and for once I’d like to watch something that feels crafted, inspiring, and gratifying to see to the end.

If some people like the Loki show we got, I have no argument against that, because my own opinion is just as subjective as theirs. Though, I’d like to think that if what I want is for the show to be better out of love for the same character, then what they enjoyed from the show can coexist in that. If anyone’s actually read up to this point, I have to admit I’ve forgotten mine. Mostly I just wanted to express my frustrations over how unfeeling and stale most entertainment, specifically from Marvel as of late, has been.

TL;DR: I care too much, waaay too much, Marvel cares too little, Disney doesn’t care at all, and I don’t know how to accept that.

#jazzy’s thinking too much again #marvel thoughts #marvel critical #loki series critical #loki series negativity #marvel #loki series thoughts #Loki series #why am i like this??#loki

178 notes · View notes

theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Once upon a (fever) Dream

Relationship: Scaramouche x Reader (Gender neutral)

Summary: Scaramouche is unwell with a fever, it's your responsiblity to take care of your superior. Little did you know, overhearing his fever sleep talk would turn your life upside down.

Author's notes: I'm trying to get back into the writing groove! Scaramouche has been on my mind a lot ever since the lore of the pale flame set was datamined. If you are interested in the theory I based my fic on, one of my dear mutuals made this informative post. This is pretty tame and more of a psychological analysis more than a fic tbh.

I will not take any criticism on the theory.

Warnings: SFW, Character study-ish, abundance of internal monologues, use of swear words, hints of speculation on Scaramouche's backstory/identity, power imbalance, possessive and obsessive behaviour, trust issues(??)

"Another day Feelin' like no one really knows me It's okay At least I'm used to being lonely"

-Jake Daniels "The Show"

Scaramouche is having trouble distinguishing the dream realm and the waking world. Tch, this always happens when he falls ill.

Dreams. Stupid, meaningless things he cannot control. Scaramouche is never a fan of them. Sleeping is just a way to recharge one's energy for the following day, so why is this petty factor even a possibility? Memories mixed with random shit. Fever dreams are even worse, because he cannot force himself to wake up, and they might even allow forbidden information to be exposed.

The Balladeer seldom falls ill. But when he does...he needs some subordinates to look after him. Not that he got any other option.

Unpleasant to work with? Talks way too much? Eh, not that he cares. Scaramouche does not see the need to present himself as likeable. Like is a temporary, fragile concept compared to fear.

There was a time in his long life, he thought he was loved...the love he received turned out to be nothing more than one of his past naive self’s delusions in the end. No, it is meaningless in being nostalgic over that.

Damn this Moronic fever, stirring his mind all messy...

Fear is a better alternative, more secure and firm.

"Sir, it's time for your medicine." You knock, hesitating when there is no granting of entry from his end.

This unfortunate task: taking care of the bedridden harbinger has fallen onto you as of late. Being the newest recruit in his sector, of course, your seniors would throw this troublesome work to a rookie like you.

The optimal approach is: Do what you are supposed to do as a subordinate, sprint through the doorway once you complete your tasks. Being in his room longer than needed will only result in harsh insults. That foul mouth does not seem to know any mercy.

"Sir?" You ask again, mentally preparing yourself for the possible scolding before turning the doorknob. Letting yourself in is not a wise idea, however, this is your obligation. Lord Balladeer would be even more upset if you had brought in the medicine at the right time.

"No...Please don't...I promise I'll be-" Is that, sleep talking? Oh archons, why?

Those facial expressions are not pleasant ones. A nightmare, great.

Is there a way to unhear things? You sure wish there is. Scaramouche's life before his service has always been a popular topic of break time gossip among the Fatui. Some say he is of noble birth from that arrogant attitude, some say he comes from a peasant family, there are even absurd speculation about him being a fisherman before. However, his subordinates know better than to gossip in his presence. No rumours were ever confirmed or denied.

Who knows what he would do if the Harbinger catches you "eavesdropping". The mutterings have quiet down now, but you still have paperwork to attend to after this(that he assigned you).

"How much of that did you hear?" Just when you are contemplating whether to poke the sleeping bear or not, that menacing violet gaze has already fixated at you. Did he sleep talk? Scaramouche is uncertain. Still, it is always better to be safe than to be sorry.

At least he’s awake now, no need to wake him anymore. You said to yourself quietly. “Not much, my lord. I will forget everything as soon as possible. Now, time for your medicine.”

That scent makes Scaramouche’s stomach churns. A pot of dark goo and a plate of sugared plums, just like yesterday and the day prior. Wait, wasn’t he-

“How do I know that you don’t go whisper to your friends?”

Efficiency and resilience. Those are the two essential qualities one must possess if one wishes to remain in Scaramouche’s service. He may be a difficult superior, but his sector gets a relatively decent chunk of field missions, therefore it is easier to move up the ranks for new recruits. Who knows when you would get a promotion if you just deal with financial transactions in banks under Pantalone.

Perhaps it is sight of the oh so mighty man in such a fragile state, you are feeling...braver than usual. “My lord, what do I have to gain from gossiping?” Do you focus on unscrewing the cap of the pot, sounding somewhat amused? That unnoticeable curl did not escape his eyes.

When was the last time a recruit dared to look him straight in the eye like this? Scaramouche has no recollection. That immense headache is not helping either. Whatever, what matters now is making sure you do not go slipping off what you heard to others.

After handing the utensils and the pot to your superior, you head outside, prepared to stand in the hallway until he finishes the pot.

“Did I give you permission to leave?”

Aren’t you curious about what he is hiding? Humans love to pry by nature, right? It’s not the first time he had to dispose of those who know too much after all.

“Do you need anything else, my lord?” Of course, he’s not gonna let you off the bat that easily. What were you thinking? Deep breathes, (y/n). It’s not like he is going to electrocute you in this state.

“I wish to keep this head on my shoulders.” In an organization like the Fatui, new recruits are seen as resources that can be disposed of if needed. No one would blink an eye if you were to die of “accidental” death.

“You say that, but your eyes tell a different story.” Since when does he care about what is going in the minds of his subordinates?

“Sir, you can deal with me once you are fully recovered. Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa needs you in top condition as soon as possible.”

Gulping down the thick porridge, the little man then lied down, trying to sleep the fever away. The sensation of the quilt moving almost made him jump, he thought you had left the room already? What do you think you are doing?

Did you pull the quilt up to his chin? It’s not like he needs that cloth, but...this notion.

He’s so adorable when he’s sleeping. You thought as you walked through the door.

Did you just… tuck him in?? That is what’s that called right? Arranging the covers for someone?

You really should know better than treating your superior like some infant. However, that is not a mocking gesture. Scaramouche supposes he’ll let this one slide.

As the door shuts behind you, you hummed a cheerful melody, trying to not think about what would happen once he’s back on his feet. Hopefully, he will let you live on if you try hard enough to prove your usefulness.

You are reckless. You have no idea what you got yourself into.

He just had the perfect way to make sure his secrets remained in safe hands.

Someone else would take care of your current position. What would that leave you? Hmm, a personal assistant would be fitting for someone as caring as you. Personal, somehow he likes the sound of that already. Scaramouche had loathed the idea of having someone tend to his daily life, complete independence is a goal he always strives to achieve. Now...that idea does not seem that horrible after all. Do you even know how to brew tea? You’ll have to learn if not, and quickly too.

His past must remain a secret until the situation calls for it, that much is certain. Unstable variables should be placed under constant surveillance, and Scaramouche can only rely on himself to guard something as important as this.

(A/N: Thank you for reading this character study fic!! Relogs and comments will be greatly appreciated!)

#genshin impact imagine #scaramouche genshin #genshin self ship #genshin self insert #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader

293 notes · View notes

squishycheekanon · 3 years

Text

When Dusk begins.

Part one.

Warnings: none yet but there will be smut in upcoming chapters.

SERIES MASTERLIST.

“Yes, yes I’m already here. My plane just landed. Okay I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.” You hung up the phone, taking a deep breath.

“Home sweet home.” You smiled walking out of the airport and climbing into the back of a cab.

You had just returned home to New York City after finishing a successful research project that took place in Amarna. Your job as an Egyptologist was amazing. Your gramps got you a book on hieroglyphs when you were young, every since then you became captivated by their mythology. You strived to learn more and more about them. Their way of life, their language, art, religion; everything you could possibly learn.

You worked hard for your PHD and when the day came that you finally got it, you were overjoyed. You didn’t take the time to celebrate however. Instantly landing your first job in your field and booking a one way ticket to Egypt.

Your eyes sparkled as you came across your old favourite pizza place. “Stop here please.” You paid the cab driver and went straight inside to grab a slice. Humming in delight at the taste, the grease. You’d missed it. After scarfing down your food, you decided to take a walk.

You didn’t plan for walking in the rain though. The light 'pitter patter' of rain turned into wet thuds as the icy water raced to meet the ground. You hadn’t seen rain in so long. You were tempted to stand out in it and spread your arms with a big grin. The thought did occur to you but you ignored it and began to run, eventually spotting the nearest bit of shelter.

You examined the building, noticing the three words engraved into the stone. Truth. Knowledge. Vision. It brought a smile to your face as the cold droplets hit against your skin hard. The harsh feeling encouraged you to run up the steps and sit on the floor until the rain stopped.

You were quite content. That is until you heard a sound. A sound you could only describe as a thundering roar and it came from inside the museum. Standing to your feet immediately, your curiosity spurred you on to seek out the owner of the noise. You pulled on the door handle and to your surprise it opened.

Once inside you scoured the area only to find the strangest thing you’d ever seen. “Oh. My. God.” You breathed out watching a giant T-Rex skeleton run through the room chasing a toy car. Your eyes caught a man dressed in uniform. He was speaking to a monkey. Your couldn’t believe what you were witnessing.

“What the hell is going on here?” You said a little louder than you intended; catching the attention of the majority of the room. The man in uniform gasped loudly. His eyes widening to such an extent you thought they’d pop out.

“Oh no! No! No! No!” He chanted as he came towards you. “Who are you? How did you get in here?!” He seemed distressed.

“The door was unlocked.” His eye seemed to twitch as he stared at you. “I’m Y/N.” You said awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

“The door. The stupid door,” he slapped his palm against his forehead, “I knew I forgot something. Damn.” While he was having a mini break down you walked further inside. Watching as different people and animals walked around. You noticed a bunch of cavemen playing with rocks.

“They’re the exhibitions. But they’re alive?” You said confused.

“Yeah. Yeah, there’s no use trying to hide it now.” The man said. “I’m Larry.”

And that’s how you were being given a tour of the museum that had came to life. Larry had sworn you to secrecy. Of course you couldn’t tell anyone. It would be ruined if you told anyone. The greatest tragedy of mankind; they destroy what they discover.

You had dried off a little by the time you reached the last exhibit. You noticed the writing and architecture before Larry could even say it. Turning the corner you spotted two huge Anubis Jackals. They turned to look at you. Honestly you thought you peed a little.

“It’s okay. They won’t hurt you.”

Your eyes immediately switched to a man. You noticed his clothing first. The wesekh and shendyt. You scanned over his perfectly symmetrical face. All the way up to the Deshret he wore on his head. You couldn’t help but flicker back to his big, beautiful blue eyes. They held you there, staring at this perfection. Nay, this God.

“Y/N?” You blinked a few times while you were getting your footing back. Anchoring yourself back to reality. The second you did, you dropped to your knees, bowing in front of the powerful being.

“You may rise.” He chuckled. After thinking for a moment he spoke. “Why don’t you ever bow?” He looked at Larry who raised an eyebrow with a laugh.

“Laurence. A word.” A figure you knew as Teddy spoke with haste.

“I’ll be back.” Larry nodded to you. Instantly you turned back to the King. Your eyes finding his and once again you were entranced.

“I am Ahkmenrah.” He stated feeling no need to say his full title especially after your bow.

“I-I know. You’re.....you are not how I pictured you.” You bit your lip after saying it. You didn’t mean to speak your thought outloud.

“Oh? And how did you picture me?” He seemed to hold a hint of amusement in his features.

“With a goatee.” You said nervously making him laugh with a wide smile. It made you smile too.

“I’m Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N.” Your name sounded so perfect with his voice, however-

“You’re British?” You questioned.

“I spent quite a long time on display at the Egyptology department in Cambridge University. It is how I learnt English.” He said proudly.

“Wow.” It seemed to be the only word you could find. You had so many questions yet none would come out. It was as if his presence alone had rendered you speechless. In all your years, never ever did you think you’d come face to face with a Pharaoh. And yet here you were staring into the eyes of one...

....to be continued

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah #night at the museum #pharaoh #x reader #squishycheekanon

266 notes · View notes

itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

A/N: thank you @darlingimmafangirl for this request! I really enjoyed writing it :)) also reader is semi pro equalist. not really but she can understand amon’s pov even though he took it to the extreme of things. curious about yall’s stance on amon’s whole revolution thing. feel free to flood my inbox about it ;))

You could hear the whispers and feel the stares. You weren’t ignorant; being the girlfriend of the beloved chief in Republic City caught a lot of attention. Lin Beifong wasn’t one to make friendships, let alone have a girlfriend. From bystanders eyes she was cold but determined. It was the age gap they whispered about.

Normally, the two of you would eat in after work. Lin was exahausted from the long days of her job. Something about more reports to file and sign (that’s what you got from her grumbling anyway). It had been another boring day at the studio and you wanted to go out. Your art was coming along great, but you were tired of being cooped up all day. Now, however, you regretted it.

Lin was older;her hair had grayed and the crows feet around her eyes told a story. However, she was still gorgeous with her green eyes as they glittered underneath the light of the booth the two of you sat at. She was incredibly strong both physically and mentally. Lin was in her early fifties, while you were in your mid twenties.

Your relationship was difficult to even start. Lin already had trouble with relationships as a whole, but to be with someone more than a decade younger than her? That was another problem in itself.

“You’re doing it again,” Lin murmured as she took a sip from her drink. “Hm?” “Thinking. Getting lost in your thoughts.” “Oh,” you replied softly, trying to forget about the waiter’s surprised expression after you squeezed Lin’s hand over the table. “Just...a bit nervous is all.” She shot a brow in response. “Everyone’s staring,” you mumbled, folding your hands into your lap. Lin hummed, “I suppose we make an odd couple.” “Doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking it off. “I’d rather be here with you.” She smiled softly, yet you could tell her gaze wavered. “You shouldn’t care so much about what everyone thinks,” she murmured, cutting her fork into her food. “I know,” you replied, “I just need to be here in the present.” “Atta girl.”

There was a ceremony for the avatar after Amon’s defeat. Your joints and limbs ached from protecting the people from the equalists. Even the fire in your blood weakened but Katara assured you you’d be back in no time. All the fighting and all the emotional drainage took a toll on you. Though, you couldn’t say much. At least you were fortunate enough to protect your bending. You sat at the bar of the ballroom, swinging your legs as you waited for Lin to join you. She had to stay with councilman Tenzin and Korra while the reporters flocked around them. The red dress clung to your figure tightly and stopped mid thigh. You swirled a wine glass absentmindedly, mulling over the past couple of months you had been through. The disappearance of Amon took a huge burden off of Korra and Lin, but you still couldn’t help but feel unhappy. Amon wanted everyone to be equal, and yes he took it to the extreme of things, but he strived for balance. He was right about the haughtiness in benders and how they carried themselves. Even you had trouble with the ego of bending. Even though Amon had escaped, your bones felt heavy. Something told you that he was dead. It didn’t matter anymore did it? “Mind if I buy you a drink?” Glancing over, a man around your age slid in the stool next to you. You raised a brow taking a sip before replying. “I’m fine thank you.”

“C’mon don’t be so uptight sweetheart.” You shot him a glare, your jaw clenched together. “I said. I’m fine.” The man snorted. His brown eyes glanced to your ears and his glance became curious. The gold earrings you wore twinkled in the light. They were an anniversary gift Lin had given you for occasions such as these. Two precious rubies dripped from each earring along with the necklace you wore.

“There you are.” The anger in your veins dissipated from the voice you’ve been waiting to hear all night. You smiled, turning to Lin. Sliding out of the barstool you sighed,“Finally, I’ve been waiting for a while now.” Lin hummed, “I was kept up by the reporters.” You giggled at the annoyance in her tone. She wanted to go home and rest while everyone else danced the night away. You couldn’t really blame her.

Glancing back, you noticed the man’s eyes bulging out of his head. He looked like a toad as he stared at that two of you. Lin’s eyes narrowed, holding his stare. “Is there a problem,” she snapped, crossing her arms. The man shook his head quickly, “N-no.” “Carry on then.” He turned quickly and you giggled as he stared down into his drink.

He muttered the words “gold digger” as the two of you left the bar.

“You’re dating?” Lin could feel the headache already starting to form. For god’s sake the two of you just got here. “Yes, we’re dating,” Lin confirmed, albeit a bit harshly. Tenzin’s brows raised in surprise while his kids squawked around him. Lin’s distaste for children didn’t lessen slightly. You stood next to her fumbling over your words and twiddling with your fingers. Your cheeks were pink in contrast to Lin’s tugging frown. ‘So much for secrecy,’ you thought. Tenzin gaped like a fish and closed his mouth. This proceeded to continue for several seconds until eventually he kept it shut. “Out with it,” Lin huffed. Her posture was rigid and she seethed with anger. It was supposed to be a nice picnic with just the two of you. Tenzin and his family seemed to have other plans, however. “I-I’m not trying to be rude,” he sputtered. “But Lin you’re definitely much older.” These types of conversations were nothing new. However, Lin seemed to be very upset. “Councilman Tenzin,” you murmured sharply, “With all do respect, it is none of your business.” He deflated at your response. You were known for keeping your cool, going against the stigma of firebenders. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend and I will be going home. Have a lovely day.” Grabbing the supplies you and Lin trekked back home.

Lin groaned as she flopped on the couch. The picnic’s failure soured her mood. “It seems like we can’t go anywhere these days,” she grumbled. “I take one day off from work.” You sighed as you finished putting away the uneaten packed food. “I know dear, I know.”

Lin huffed in reply. “Getting called a gold digger, or being told “I could take care of you soooo much better” gets really tiring after awhile,” you said through gritted teeth. Lin’s eyes softened. Slowly she made her way into the kitchen where you unpacked the basket. “I didn’t know you were being called that.” You sighed, “It’s fine really, I shouldn’t let it get to me.” Her hand gently grasped your arm. “It’s not fine, you should have told me.” “I know,” you muttered, turning to face her, “but every time I commented about it, it seemed to make you feel bad.”

Lin’s hands grasped your cheeks softly. She gently kissed your lips. “They’ll get used to it,” you said once you both pulled away. “I’m sorry if I made you upset.” Her brows furrowed. “What?” “Yknow, how I handled Tenzin. I didn’t mean to blow up like that. But I guess that’s what’s expected, being a firebender and all. You chuckled humorlessly. Lin laughed, “You handled it perfectly. It was rude to comment on it.” “Besides,” Lin continued, “You’re the calmest firebender I’ve met. Better than that Mako guy.” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around her neck.

“He can be a pain,” you agreed. Lin’s arms wrapped around your lower back. “It’s hard with the stigma firebenders have. They think we’re all hot headed and destructive. “Nonsense my dear,” Lin replied, leaning down to kiss your head. “You’re the best damn one out there.” You grinned at her response. “And you’re the most hot headed earth bender Republic City’s ever seen.” Lin snorted, “Alright moments over.” You laughed, squeezing her tightly. “Ohhh come on Lin, you know it’s true.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed but you could see the smile on her lips.

#legend of korra #legend of korra x reader #legend of korra fanfic #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong

189 notes · View notes

onyxiana-is-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Misunderstanding | Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

AN: Yo! How’s it going, friends! So, this is a soulmate au with Shinsou and I’ve been wanting to write this fic for a while, so I finally got around to it! Side note: Hitoshi’s hero name is Mindjack. Length: 2.3k Pronouns used: They/them Soulmate connection: The first words your soulmate says to you is written somewhere on your body.

Summary: For years, Shinsou believed his soulmate thought he was a villain, after all, that’s what it said on his body. But when he meets you, he’s a little surprised and what your words meant.

Hitoshi Shinsou often hated the world. Not only was it exceptionally unfair, but it was also cruel. Every single person in the world was paired up with a soulmate, one they were perfectly matched up with. For most people, this wasn’t an issue, but something positive they all looked forward to. That meant they didn’t have to go through the whole dating scene and heartbreak before meeting their one true love.

Hitoshi disagreed.

Every fated pair had a connection; the first line one of them says to the other. Their very first words to one another were plastered onto their skin. The words would appear on a child’s skin at the age of two and Hitoshi was no different. However, the words he’d received were just plain confusing. Until he got older, then they were the bane of his existence.

Hitoshi glared at this chest, which held the words his soulmate would say. Right above his heart, neatly written, were their first words.

“A villain’s quirk, huh?”

So even that stupid soulmate of his believed he was a villain. All he wanted was to be a hero, all he ever pushed himself to do was become a hero. Everyone doubted him because of his quirk, a stupid ability he had no control over.

He didn’t mean to, but overtime, Hitoshi started to hate people. He started to dislike everyone around him. No one gave him a chance, they always judged him before he could even defend himself. How could they? He desperately wanted to be a hero not a villain, yet here they were almost turning him into one.

What a hypocritical society he lived in. They held heroes in the highest regard, praised, and almost worshiped them. Yet, here was an innocent student striving to give his life to protect the same people who threw insults at him, basically deeming him a villain.

Despite all of this, Hitoshi persevered. He pushed through everyone and made it into the hero course. They were… a godsend, really. Class 2A. Especially people like Midoriya, Kirishima, and Kaminari. They pushed him harder than he pushed himself and they often referred to him as a hero. Something he so desperately needed.

However, Hitoshi always has a lingering fear. That his soulmate would think he was a villain too. The words on his chest were… daunting. Why would his soulmate say that to him? Out of all the damn things they could say, this was it? Nothing else?

No matter how Hitoshi looked at it, he couldn’t see a positive outcome. All he saw was a faceless soulmate of his, throwing insults at him just like everyone else. Calling him the one thing he despised so much.

A villain.

~**~

It was the end of the school day and Hitoshi had packed all his stuff, ready to go home. Recently, his connection had been acting up. It would sometimes tingle and sting a little, other times it was a calming, warm sensation. As much as Hitoshi hated his soulmate, he couldn’t help but bask in that comfort. It eased all his worries, often making his stresses melt away. Something he needed.

Exams were coming up and once he passed this, he would graduate. Then, he could officially start on his dream to become a hero. The road was difficult and filled with a lot of uncertainty, but he was almost done. He was so close.

“Hey, Shinsou!” Hitoshi stopped walking and looked behind him, a smile gracing his features. “How are you?” Midoriya asked as he stopped next to his purple-haired friend.

“I’m good, yourself?”

“Pretty good! Exams are coming up, you think you’re prepared? I’m so nervous! After this, we’ll graduate and become real heroes!” Hitoshi nodded, feeling excitement build up in his chest. His life goal was so close, within his reach.

“I am. Think you’ll have time to spar with me this weekend?” Midoriya nodded with a big smile.

“Most definitely! Kiri and I are gonna be sparring too, tomorrow after school, if you wanna join us! I would ask if you wanna join us today but you said you were busy earlier.” Hitoshi nodded at his words.

“Yeah, I have some stuff to do after school, including some homework I’ve been waiting to finish. But I can definitely join you two tomorrow, if that’s ok with you guys.”

“Of course it is!” Midoriya chirped, giving him a bright smile. “You know we love to train with you! Oh! There he is! Kiri!”

“Midoriya! Shinsou!”

“Well, I have to go! See you tomorrow, Shinsou.”

“You good, have fun Midoriya. Hey Kiri!” Kirishima and Midoriya waved one last time before they took off, heading the other way.

As Hitoshi walked home, his mind returned to the exam. They’d have a written portion and then the physical portion. Both required for graduation. Hitoshi was ready, he’d been studying plenty recently. He just needed to work on the physical-

“That’s him. The one with the villain’s quirk.” Hitoshi frowned, hearing the woman talking to her friend. Immediately, his mind blanked and all he could think of was how no one would accept him as a hero. Now that Hitoshi was 18, he just stopped arguing with people. Instead, he chose to ignore them but that didn’t work most of the time. Sure, he’d never confront them, but their words stuck, slowly breaking at the confidence his classmates help build up.

“Not sure why he’s even bothering to be a hero.”

“Right! Better off joining the villains. He belongs there anyway.” The other woman laughed. As much as Hitoshi wanted to scream and argue, he kept his mouth shut. There was no point. Ever since his 2nd year, all he did was try to show everyone he was a hero and a good one. He had spent his entire work-study proving he wasn’t a villain, but he could only do so much. Some people would just never accept him and he needed to come to terms with that fact. These two women were the perfect example. What else could he do? He was tired.

It seemed like karma was smiling down on him that day.

As Hitoshi walked by, someone bumped into him and ran to the two women. They screamed and backed up into a wall. One was able to get away, but the man ended up grabbing the other woman. She screamed as he pulled her against him, placing a blade against her throat.

People around them screamed and panicked, unsure of what to do and the man was already spewing demands. The woman that had gotten away, immediately looked for Hitoshi, but before even needing to be prompted, he jumped into action.

“Hey!” He pushed past everyone and stood in front of the woman and villain. He could see the fear and desperation in her eyes. Guess he’d get his chance to prove her wrong after all. “What do you want?”

The villain glared at Hitoshi before whispering something to the woman. Tears slid down her cheeks as the knife dug into her skin.

“H-He w-won’t sp-speak! H-he knows y-you’re qu-quirk.” She said, crying out when he tugged her close to him. She tried to struggle, but it seemed like he was much stronger than her, causing her to only tire out. That was a problem. Hitoshi didn’t have his capture weapon and the villain wasn’t talking. Next best thing, stalling.

“Ok, don’t hurt her. What do you want?” He whispered something to the woman, making her blink as more tears slid down her cheeks.

“H-he w-wants mo-money a-and a car t-to get away.”

“Money and a car? That’s easy. There are plenty of cars right here, I’m sure I can get one for you. But that money… we’re not near a bank.” He whispered something again, making the woman speak up.

“H-he s-AHH!” She screamed as he growled and said something, pulling on her. “E-empty your p-pockets!” Hitoshi’s eyes scanned the crowd and everyone looked at him for help. They knew him and now they needed him.

“I don’t think you’ll want their stuff,” Hitoshi said, holding his hands out, his eyes on the knife. “I can get you the money, but I need her to be safe and sound.” The villain glared at Hitoshi and whispered something to the terrified woman who let out a sob before talking.

“H-he said h-he’ll k-ki-kill me. I-if you d-don’t listen to him.” Hitoshi had an idea, but it was extremely risky. No reinforcements followed so that meant he was on his own.

“Calm down. Don’t hurt her,” he sighed before pushing his strategy, “how much?”

“T-ten thousand.”

“Oh I don’t think we have that. I think there’s a bank down that road, it’s not close but we can make it. Let go of her and I’ll take you there myself.”

“Y-you go! H-he’ll st-stay here wi-with me.”

“Well damn, I can’t do that.” Hitoshi sighed before a smirk made its way onto his face. His eyes gazed into the villain’s, before he looked the villain up and down. “Are you scared? You’re shaking.”

“H-he says sh-shut up.”

“I’m just making an observation.”

“H-he’ll kill me!”

“For a thief, you’re not a very good one. I’m just pointing it out.” That got him.

“JUST SHUT-“ His eyes turned milky white and everyone froze.

“Let go of her.” Immediately, his arms fell off of her and she ran to Hitoshi. Without even thinking, Hitoshi took her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. “Oh your knees, hands above your head.” The villain complied immediately and everyone burst into cheers.

The woman hugged Hitoshi, thanking him numerous times. He nodded as someone from the crowd called for help. Within 10 minutes, the police and pro heroes arrived.

The woman was taken away and after everyone was questioned, they were allowed to go home.

As Hitoshi started walking home, a voice called out to him, stopping him. He turned his head and looked back at the person, waiting for them to talk.

“A villain’s quirk, huh?” The words on his chest tingled and warmed up, the universal sign of his soulmate speaking the words marking his skin. Almost immediately, Hitoshi turned hostile, ready to lash out. DID THEY NOT SEE WHAT HE JUST DID?! So this was his dumb soulmate?! Great! He’d been dying to give this bitch a piece of his mind for a good 15 years! He faced them prepared to argue but froze at the words that came from their mouth. “I don’t think there’s such a thing. Besides, you clearly proved otherwise. Congratulations, Mindjack.”

Wait, what?

The look on his face caused them to laugh a little. He’d just barely registered the look of amusement on their face.

“I know what they say about you. I’ve… never believed it was true. I hate how people say that someone has a “villain’s quirk”, there is no such thing. Your quirk is how you use it. Look at All Might. A powerful giant who smashed villains with his fists. No one called him a villain.” He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his soulmate’s mouth. They didn’t think he was a villain! It was all just a misunderstanding.

God, did he hate himself...

He grew up hating his soulmate, coming up with the best speech and argument he could. He’d prepared a pretty damn solid one too, but now he had to throw that all out the window because none of what he thought was true. His soulmate didn’t think he was a villain… they just got cut off! Why the hell did it do that anyway? Was this just some cruel joke from the universe?

Unfortunately, to the person in front, they had no idea Hitoshi was their soulmate, since the hero had yet to say a single word to them. Now that the majority of the public had thinned out, they decided it was best to leave.

“Well uh… see you around.” They said and turned to leave, walking in the opposite direction. His first words were ridiculously dumb because he didn’t even try to stop her. All he could say was:

“My soulmate doesn’t think I’m a villain.” They paused, their eyes widening as their back tingled and heated up. That… MINDJACK WAS THEIR SOULMATE?! They turned around, facing him, seeing the same shocked expression on his face.

“Y-you’re m-my soulmate?” They squeaked out, making him slowly nod. They almost cried from happiness. Just like Hitoshi, the words on their back were something they’d questioned almost every single day. Why would they think their soulmate was a villain? Was he really? They grew up believing their fated half was a villain. That maybe they’d done something but at the same time, none of it made sense. Why would their other half say that if they were a villain?

“I am,” Hitoshi said confidently. The fear had melted away from both of them, the uncertainty finally put to rest. “I-I’m Hitoshi Shinsou.” He introduced, his eyes meeting their beautiful (e/c) ones.

“Hitoshi…” they whispered, a smile gracing their features. “I’m (y/f/n). N-nice to meet you.” Hitoshi chuckled and nodded, looking down for a second. He’d never felt… so giddy and content. His eyes widened and he almost didn’t catch them. Without him realizing it, they’d run towards him, throwing themselves on him.

Hitoshi sighed, closing his eyes and pulling their body flush against his. His arms tightened around them, as if he was scared to let go. He didn’t want them to just… disappear.

(f/n) didn’t think he was a villain. Hitoshi was ashamed for hating them for no damn reason and vowed to make it up to them. (y/f/n) was his soulmate, his and his alone. The universe had chosen this beautiful person for someone like him and he would cherish and love them for as long time would let him.

#mha #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #mha shinsou #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso imagine #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader

334 notes · View notes

andaxay · 3 years

Note

Heyo Sarah ;) since we both wanted more fanwork interaction with the community, here's one question from me:

In OMBP, What was the biggest inspiration that drew you in to write the story and even so expand it to such a big involvement. Were you like go with the flow, while writing it and just thought damn 5k words aren't nearly enough for it, or did you noticed that while you were working on the project, that there is potential to be more, cause your muse kicked in? ;)

Hallo Simon! This is such a cool ask, thank you!! (Also, it got long, so, more under the cut...)

So, other fanfics have been a huge source of inspiration. There are some that I've been reading and just had the most fun with (gotta single out "Winging It" by Claranon for one of the best times I've ever had with a fic). I'm laughing and have a stupid grin on my face. Just had such a good time with them, and I wanted to write something that would just be that. Fun and (mostly) light and full of things that I love about Tales. The stuff I'd written for Tales before OMBP ranged from light and "casual" (the gen one-shot series), to pretty dark (As The World Falls Down), but I just wanted to try and capture that sense of good fun and all-round great time that I'd found in other fics.

(Fanfics are wholly responsible for my love of Rhyiona, too. Literally the first and only characters I've ever actively shipped. Thank you, fanfic authors <3)

The story came about after I realised how much bloody fun I had writing Rhys and Fiona for And We Go Again and I just... needed more. I really enjoyed the Maliwan siege quests in BL3, I love wondering about what post-Tales Rhys and Fiona get up to. The whole thing kicked off when I had an image of Rhys breaking into his own company with Fiona. But WHY?? And here we are.

As for writing it... ehehe. Haha. Whoops. Originally, it was going to be three pretty large chapters. I've had the main plot down since the beginning. What I didn't account for was just how much I was going to end up wanting to write about. I wrote chapter 1 and got to a point and thought "huh, alright, this is already a significant amount, maybe 5 chapters, with an intro and an end and the beefy middle.".

Then came chapter 2 and I realised there was so much more of that party that I wanted to write about than would fit into a single chapter.

Alright, cool. Eight-ish chapters it is, then.

Then it kind of... just got big. I kept sketching out more details for 2 or 3 chapters ahead, which led to expansion and key plot points being pushed further back. So, I guess I kind of went with the flow for a lot of it. I'd have an overall plan of where I wanted to go next in terms of main plot, but a scene or bit of dialogue that would fit perfectly here, and oh man, I can't not write THIS part...

... Twelve out of fifteen chapters later. Oops? Think it's sentient at this point.

So, yeah, I've had The Plot but for a lot of it so far, I've been going with the flow a little. I'd be sketching out a chapter and something would just hit for that chapter, or something further along. Honestly, it just boils down to having too much damn fun with these characters that have captured my heart. I LOVE writing their dialogue and them getting up to no good. There were just too many good things to potentially explore to be able to stick with my original three-chapter plan.

I'm sure there are parts I could have left out that would have condensed it, but, this is my story and it's the most committed I've ever been to a piece of writing and so I'm just going to have the most fun with it. And I really have. There are parts I'm not thrilled with (chapter 9 was a massive deviation from "light-hearted" and I think I lost some folk there, but, it was necessary for plot). But if I was striving for perfection, I'd never write a damn thing.

I'm legit going to miss it when it's finished. It's flawed in places, probably longer than it needs to be, but hell, I really have had the most fun with it. And I hope others have, too.

(Bloody hell I'm so sorry about the essay - I was far too excited about this ask, :') See, I waffle when I'm not writing fic, too!!)

#oh god I'm sorry this got so long #thank you for giving me the chance to waffle way too much!#god I'm still so in love with this game and these characters and any chance to gush is one I'll happily take #ask meme #thank you so much Simon #writing #fanfic #Tales From The Borderlands #Rhyiona

11 notes · View notes

summonerscenarios · 4 years

Note

Hiya, I love your stories! Could I get some Headcanons for Moritaka, Ryota, Shiro, Kengo and Furufumi about the MC getting ready to finally confess that they love them after flirting, giving gifts and such only to see that someone else got to them first? Assuming the worst, the MC takes off running just before they refuse the rival and MC doesn’t want to see them because it hurts too much until they confront them about their avoidance? Bonus points if they brought something to confess with?

Heyya hun! unfortunately had to leave Ryota and Mori out of this cause of burnout but I do hope that these are still okay~! I’m super psyched that you like my stories~!

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

Shiro

Making the gift that you were planning to confess with had taken a lot of time and ink, but the paper cuts and red marks on your fingers were well worth it by the time you’d finished it. It was a scrapbook, full to the brim with pictures you’d taken together, passages from some of his favorite books, as well as little notes that all lead up to the page where you’d written that you loved him - you planned to tell him all this yourself, but it made for an excellent back up if you chickened out and your words decided to fail you on the day. Having the book with you solidified that you were actually doing this, this was actually happening. Sure, you’d thought about this a lot, and got lost daydreaming about confessing more often than you’d ever admit aloud, but having the book with you made everything feel more real. You were going to do this, you were going to confess, and you were a ball of nerves for the entire day leading up to it. The book was kept safely tucked away inside of your bag but you kept messing with it whenever you had the chance, running your hands along the spine and checking to make sure that all of the pages were still in tact even when you knew they were. It helped keep your mind focused, so that your thoughts of ‘what if he says no?’ didn’t get the better of you when you were so close to saying it. All you had to do was find him....and you do, right in time to watch someone sidle up to his side, slip his hand into both of theirs and hold it close to their chest as they look him right in the eyes. Their lips move and you hear every syllable as though they were screaming it for the world to head.

‘I love you’

You want to cry; what a cruel twist of fate that this happens at the exact time that you were planning to spill your heart out to him. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, this wasn’t how you thought your day was going to go - you’d hoped for a yes, expected a no, but now you didn’t even get the chance to find out what that answer would be, and just barging him and telling him now would be cruel to both him and the person who confessed first. Even though they can’t see you a strained smile stretches across your face; it’s shaky, and a terrible means to hide how absolutely shattered your heart feels, but you whisper a wish for them to have all the best, moreso to yourself as you step away from the scene and begin to walk away, the book in your bag feeling heavier and heavier with every step that you take. You wind up back at your room, and by the time the door closes behind you it’s like every emotion forces its way out of your throat and you try to pull the book out of your bag, to look at those memories in the hopes that they’ll remind you that you aren’t going to lose him as a friend just because he’s in a relationship now. But it gets stuck on something, and you’re so frustrated that you just yank it out and your heart drops at the tearing sound that rips through the air; you look down just to watch one of the pages flutter down to the floor, torn away from the rest of the book when you’d pulled and you drop to your knees to pick it up. It’s the confession page - the irony is palpable, and you feel the frustration about the whole thing creeping up the longer that you look at it. So without another word you shove it back into the book, force the damn gift back into the bag, and toss the whole thing under your bed, hoping that by the morning you’ll have forgotten all about the painful feeling that’s welling up your chest like it’s trying to tear you apart.

You don’t so much as avoid him as you do just not showing up to school - you’d been well enough behaved that the teachers were sympathetic when you said you felt sick and needed some time to yourself. And so you’d spent the past three days in your room, ordering take-out and sticking indoors; it wasn’t a permanent solution, as you don’t think you could stay away from Shiro when literally all of your time before was spent together, but you do your best to delay that day for as long as you can by distracting yourself in the safety of your room. Though perhaps you should have stayed somewhere else, considering Shiro comes by the check on your wellbeing with a handmade meal and a small line of worried D-evils in tow.

The moment you hear him knock on the door and call out your name you know you couldn’t turn him away, and you were mentally kicking yourself even as you walk across the room and open it for him to come inside. He’s worried but completely oblivious, asking you how you’re feeling and if you’ve been eating and drinking enough as he places the food container on your desk for you to eat later; you normally loved seeing him get all fussy and motherly like this, but it feels bittersweet thinking about him being like this with his new partner. God, you sound jealous already, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t. The D-evils make themselves at home the whole time that he’s asking about your health and how you’re doing, scrambling around your legs vying for your attention and climbing all over your bed to bundle up in your covers. They’re an excellent distraction, and you lean down to give them all headpats as you try to hum and nod your way through the conversation, hoping that he doesn’t notice how nervous you look about having him in your room. You weren’t paying attention to all of the D-evils however, because if you were you would have noticed two of them diving under your bed, and you and Shiro both perk us at the noise of something scuffing against your floor. Two heads pop out from under your bed, and along with them comes a familiar bag, and your heart leaps into your throat when you see them trip and send its contents flying across the floor. You don’t even get the chance to grab for the book, frozen to the spot when Shiro looks down and spots the scrapbook that you’d made, leaning down to pick it up.

He goes to ask what it is, spotting his name written at the corner of the book, but he stops speaking as soon as he opens the page. You feel like the room is going to cave in on you, watching him flip through the pages and look at all of the things you’d carefully taken the time to weave in between them; and right as he gets to the last page you see that familiar piece of paper full of writing come fluttering out, descending to the floor until Shiro’s able to snag it and pull it up to read. He’s quiet as he reads it, and even the D-evils aren’t shrieking as they usually do as they watch Shiro read with heads tilted in curiosity; eventually though he looks up at you, and you can’t make out what he’s thinking when he asks you if the things in this book were really meant for him. You hands fly up in defense, already halfway through apologizing and that you had this all before he’d gotten a partner and you didn’t mean for it to get in the way of their relationship - you’re totally okay with it if he just wants to forget about the whole book and to just go back to normal.

But Shiro cuts you off, and suddenly he’s holding your hand and bringing it close to his chest just like that person had done before. He looks confused, and when you clarify what you’d said about his partner he looks even more perplexed, shaking his head and telling you that while he’s been confessed to he most certainly doesn’t have a partner, why would you think that he does? You don’t know what’s more awkward, the fact that he had to find out your feelings through a piece of paper, or the fact that you have to explain that you’d seen that whole confession that took place the other day, but he doesn’t let go of your hand the whole time that you talk, and you feel like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest. You don’t know what to expect - a rejection, maybe him letting you down gently after your speech - but it certainly isn’t seeing him smile, looking bashful as he offers starting your confession over. He wants to hear you say it out loud, and the two of you can go from there. In response you’re flabbergasted, but your heart leaps when you realize that he isn’t turning you down - he wouldn’t be asking you to say it again just to say no - and you all but scramble for the book and your words, finally ready to confess the feelings you’d been holding for so long.

Kengo

The two of you are like a match and oil - together you’re fiery, but in a way that brings out the best in each other. Having you around makes Kengo want to be a better man, to learn when to cool off about things and speak with words before with fists; and having him around drives you forward, constantly striving from your goals knowing that you’ve got each other’s back through it all. You guys have been through thick and thin, seeing each other at your worst and still sticking together despite it all, so maybe that’s why you shouldn’t be so surprised that you start catch yourself looking at him more longingly. You don’t know exactly when you realized your feelings for him broached something deeper than just friendship - maybe it was when you found yourself missing him when you weren’t together, or perhaps it was those countless nights ditching the school grounds to wander around the streets together. And let’s not even get started on the daydreaming - you’ve had to literally slap those kinds of thoughts out of your head enough times to make you blush. Needless to say you’ve got it bad, and you’re not just going to let these thoughts simmer; no, you’re going to confront these feelings head on. You’re gonna tell Kengo Takabushi that you love him.

You’d honestly gotten so worked up thinking about the whole confession that you started to put some serious thought into it, you even had a gift in mind to give him that you were going to bring along with you on the day. You knew delicate jewelry wasn’t going to last a day on Kengo, so you’d splurged on something a bit more heavy duty, getting a set of matching rings on chains with ‘partners’ engraved on the inside along with some other markings to match his style. His was cool to the touch, even as you clutched it in your hand and toyed with the chain as you approached the place that you’d asked him to meet you at; it wasn’t anywhere far, wanting to pick a place that was close to the shopping district in case the two of you wanted to go out and grab something to eat after the confession. Thinking about your confession now you’re a mixture of anticipation and nervousness - of course you’d be, you’d been practically dreaming about this day and the fact that you’re planning to finally do it today has your nerves fried thinking about what could happen. You think he’ll say yes - you really hope he does, but worse comes to worst you don’t think the two of you would stop being friends if it didn’t work out, so that thought comforts you as you approach the meeting spot and find Kengo leaning against one of the nearby building’s waiting for you.

Except, he’s not the only one who's there, there’s another person standing in front of him. You’ve seen them before, run into them a couple of times while you were hanging out with Kengo, but this is the first time that you’ve seen the two of them actually talking together like this. From where you’re standing you can make out how flushed they look, cheeks dusted pink with a smile that’s all too familiar. What really seals the deal is when you see them thrust something out to him, and you’re ready to jump in just in case this is some kind of fight until you recognize the little package with decorative hearts on the cover that they’re holding in their hands, and that makes the very blood in your veins turn to ice. You’d stumbled right into a confession, a confession for the one person you had been planning on confessing to. There’s no mistaking it, you don’t even have to hear them confess to know what’s going on, and almost immediately you back away from the scene, taking a few steps back before you turn away and book it back down the way you’d come. You can worry about sending an apology text for cancelling the meetup later, but that’s the last thing that’s on your mind as you run away from the confession before you can hear Kengo say yes - because of course he’d say yes wouldn’t he? But he doesn’t, and you don’t get to see Kengo as he hands back the gift to that person and tells them that while there’s no hard feelings he’s not interested; you also don’t get to hear him say that he’s interested in someone else anyways, as he looks around hoping to see if you’ve arrived yet with increasing concern when you don’t show.

It’s a pain to avoid Kengo so actively, but you can’t bring yourself to be around him just yet in fear of just digging up more emotions than you can handle. You took every chance you could get to stay out of the dorms, only coming back to your room when you know that he’s either out or in his own room so that you minimize the risk of running into him. Damn it, you’d even gone so far as getting to class early just so you can grab a seat as far away from his as possible, always saying that you just like the window seats as an excuse whenever the sudden change is brought up. It was glaringly obvious that you were avoiding him though, you couldn’t be subtle about all those times you’ve practically gone out of your way to duck around every chance to hang out with him, and it was beginning to show in the the looks he gave you, the eyes that you could feel in the back of your head as though trying to burn into your brain and look for an answer. Both of you are frustrated, but you’re too stubborn to confront this issue on your own; if either of you wanted this whole thing sorted, it was on him.

It’s right after the school bell rings one day that Kengo finally manages to corner you. You’d left a couple things in your homeroom desk that you’d been planning on picking up before you left the school building, but by the time you’d actually got there the rest of the students had already filtered out. Well, most of them, that is. Because when you walk into what you expect to be an empty classroom you instead find Kengo sitting right on top of your desk, clearly waiting for you to show as the sound of the door sliding open has him turning to look over at you. There’s a beat of silence, and then you’re immediately on your heel and trying to backtrack again, completely forgetting about your stuff in favor of getting the hell out of there. You don’t even make it a few steps before his hand is on your arm and you’re being tugged right back into the classroom, and Kengo moves to stand right in front of the door for good measure as he folds his arms and sticks you with a frustrated glower. Kengo demands to know why you’re avoiding him - did he do something to piss you off? Was that it? Surely if he’s fucked up in some way you’d tell him so that he could sort it out, right? Right?! Did you seriously think you could just try and drop off of the face of the earth and he wouldn’t notice?! Too bad for you, you’re too important not to miss having around, so he wants to know why you’re staying away from him - you’re still partners right? You’re supposed to talk these things out!

At the word partner you feel guilty; you guys have handled some tough shit before, and now you were so busy avoiding the inevitable conversation that you didn’t actually think about how he was feeling about his partner not talking or even hanging out with him anymore. You knew this confrontation was coming, but the words that you want to say feel like sludge in the back of your throat, muddling up everything that you’re trying to say until the only thing that comes out is telling him that you saw that confession scene from a few days ago, back when you were supposed to meet up. At that the annoyance drops from Kengo’s face, his brows furrowing as he confirms what you just said, and when you nod he huffs and shrugs, saying that it wasn’t that big of a deal, he said no and they took it just fine, so what was the big deal? He addresses it so nonchalantly that you only register the last few words and practically shout that of course it’s a big deal! It was a big deal that one of the best people in your life, the one person that you actually, genuinely loved, got confessed to first before you even had the chance to tell him how you felt and that absolutely crushed you! That’s a hell of a big deal, Kengo!

...Wait, he said no?

The two of you seem to register those words simultaneously, as you both exclaim “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” at the same time and you suddenly feel your face burning up as you realize you’ve both severely misunderstood a situation and confessed to Kengo all in one go. Kengo’s face isn’t doing much better, his cheeks are turning ruddy and he’s looking at you as though that was the last thing that he was expecting you to say and now you’re really wishing that the earth would just open up and swallow you whole right about now - it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened to you. And yet before you can think to blow off those words and act like you didn’t just confess you’re being lifted right off of your feet and into Kengo’s arms as he spins you around. Even though his face is still red he’s grinning - is he happy about something? By the time he lets you down you’re frazzled and dizzy but his hands are squeezing your shoulders as he says that it looks like he’s not the only one who’s gone and caught feelings then. It takes you a moment for those words to sink in, but a new wave of blushing washes over your face along with such a wave of relief that you’re about five seconds away from knocking him back, hugging him and never letting go. Instead you flash him a dazzling grin of your own, and tell him to just wait until he sees what you were going to confess with, you’ve got a pretty good hunch that he’ll like it - you just need to head back home and get it.

Furufumi

When you had first started visiting the old school library Furufumi just didn’t know what to make of you. This place rarely gets visitors, much less ones that visit nearly every day after school, and yet here you are, going out of your way to come here and browse the (safe) books and traverse the library’s shelves; and to top it all off you always go out of your way to find him, to talk to him or just to have him around as you wander. He doesn’t understand you - he’s always seen you wondering around talking to everyone and anyone, surrounding yourself with people as though your very presence is enough to attract them to you; and yet you always come here the moment the bell rings, sometimes early, sometimes later than usual, but he’s started to expect the little knock on the door before you step inside, he even starts to look forward to it.

Even with all these moments the thought that you might have feelings for him doesn’t even cross his mind, having not even considered exactly how you feel about him, after all why would he? It’s easier to just not get your hopes up. But you do like him, in fact you’ve been smitten for long enough that you’ve been tossing the idea of confessing around in your head for a little while - you were just waiting for the right moment. And finally you think that the time’s finally right one day after school, when you’d finally brought the final piece to your little ‘confession gift’. Well, little probably isn’t the right word for it, as the little basket you’ve got is perfectly packed with all of the things you’ve noticed that he likes - sweets, treats, and two books about poetry and constellations all masked with a green cloth over the top to hide the contents. You’d gotten more than a few questions from your classmates seeing the basket tucked under your desk, but you just smile and wave them off, telling them that it’s a gift as you look anxiously at the clock, eagerly waiting for the final bell to ring. And when it does you’re up out of your chair and out the door so fast that you barely even register the teacher calling out for you as you bolt down the hallway and jump down as many stairs as you can without falling flat on your face. It isn’t long before you can see the old school building, and your heart is hammering in your chest from both nervousness and excitement, and you’re pushing away any thoughts other than getting there when you round the corner and-

Someone else is there.

You skid to a stop, still holding the basket as you look at the scene before you hidden from sight under the shadow of the neighboring building. There’s another student stood by the entrance, and Furufumi’s there with them but from here you can barely make out what the two of them are talking about. Something about wanting to know, getting something off of their chest, wanting their feelings to be returned - and then you hear it. They’re declaring their love, loud enough that the words ring out clear as day even from where you’re standing. Someone got there first - you’re watching the boy you’ve come to love being snatched up before your very eyes. You step back even further away from the scene, suddenly aware of your surroundings as you duck completely out of their sight. Your whole body feels like it’s burning, and your stomach twists in a way that makes you feel nauseous - you can’t stand here a moment longer, you don’t want to or you feel as though you’re gonna break, to trip up and say something that’s going to ruin the seemingly sweet confession that’s playing out right in front of you. You just hope they’ll be happy together, you feel stupid for being so bitter about someone else seeing who’s recognized what a sweet lovable person he is, but the negative thoughts swirl in so quickly that all you can do is hope he’ll be happy...that’s the only thing you can do before you turn on your heel and leave, heading directly back to your dorm room before you can see anything else happen. Oh, if only you’d stayed a little longer.

Time passes, and since then you just haven’t been able to bring yourself to return back to the library, every time you think about going back there and trying to pretend that nothing was wrong you catch sight of the basket. You should probably get rid of it, hand out the snacks and treats to your friends and put the books away on your bookshelf to read when they aren’t such an uncomfortable memory. But you can't bring yourself to do either of those things, so it just stands on your windowsill, the silly little tag with his name written on it still hanging off of the handle like a symbol of missed chances that stops any thoughts of going back before you can entertain the idea further. You assumed he wouldn’t have noticed your absence, more so hoped, but to go from being around each other every day to not visiting at all would raise anyone’s suspicions. After turning down that confession he hadn’t even seen you around the school, never mind at the library, and without you there the place feels...odd now; it’s as though you’re a missing volume in the library’s anthology, plucked off the shelves and whisked away somewhere leaving the rest of it feeling incomplete without your presence. Sometimes Furufumi swears that he’s heard you knocking on the door, only to get there and find neither hide nor hair of you; he’s frustrated feeling like this, and, if he’s being honest with himself, it makes him realize how much he misses your company. He doesn’t know why you’ve stopped coming around, but there’s only one way that he’s getting those answers. And so he decides to go and find you.

When there’s a knock on your dorm door you assume that it’s Ryota, since you’d promised to help him with his homework sometime this week. It’s only until you swing open the door and open your mouth to greet him that you realize, oh, okay it’s definitely not Ryota - it’s Furufumi. His hands still raised mid-knock, and he seems surprised to see you actually open the door, likely matching your own surprise on your face at finding him standing at your door. Sure, you’ve seen him outside of the library, you’ve gone out with him to places a couple of times when you’ve found some great locations to get some fresh air; but having him right outside of your room is different - it means that he went out of his way to come find you, and the thought makes you conflicted. There’s a moment that neither of you say anything, but when the two of you share a glance you shuffle out of his way and gesture for him to come inside - he’s come all this way just to talk to you, so you don’t feel right leaving him out there. Things are even more quiet once you sit down on your bed and motion for him to take a seat beside you - it’s awkward because you don’t even know where to start, what to say to him. Fortunately Furufumi speaks first, and his voice is low as he asks you why you stopped visiting the library, nothing bad happened, did it? The question makes you blank, and you blink at him for a moment. You couldn’t just say you stopped coming around to avoid him, especially because without confessing your feelings it would sound like you hated him, which was anything but what you felt towards him. You mull over the question for a while, apparently for too long as Furufumi continues to speak - he tells you that the library feels different without you around, as though the old building misses your presence too, just like...just like he misses you. He just wants to know what happened that made you stop coming over - and, if he can, how to make it up to you so that you want to come back.

Oh. Oh this is too good to be true, and you’re so close to saying yes when you look over his shoulder, catching sight of that basket hanging on the windowsill and having memories of that day come flooding back. He must have followed your gaze, as Furufumi turns and sees the basket too, as well as the little tag that’s attached to it. When he reads it out loud, turning to you and asking if that was meant for him with genuine surprise, you just know that the jig is up. Where do you even start? Maybe just play it off as a regular gift? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, so you do exactly that, reaching up to bring it down to your lap and handing it to him. Trying to explain yourself you talk about how you’d meant to give it to him sooner, and that you had been planning to when you’d seen that whole confession thing and ended up deciding against-

...You just put your foot in it, didn’t you.

There’s no denying what you saw now, and at the mention of the confession Furufumi goes quiet, the pieces clicking into place in his head as he realizes that you’d been there that day. So, you must have seen him refuse their confession, didn’t you? Was that why you had stopped coming around? Were you friends with that person? That isn’t what you thought you’d hear, especially coming from Furufumi, but you’re quick to tell him that of course that wasn’t the reason! And you’re honestly surprised to hear him say that he’d refused the confession - you definitely feel stupid getting so worked up about it now, and yet you also feel kind of hopefully. You could tell him the truth, so that’s exactly what you do - you just really, really hope that he takes it well.

#Anonymous #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #imagines #headcanons #shiro #housamo shiro #shiro motoori #kengo #housamo kengo #kengo takabushi #furufumi #houamo furufumi #furufumi urabe #request #ask

62 notes · View notes

fallenrepublick · 4 years

Note

OMG okay, I just made this account so I could follow you, like I've been reading all your stuff from a while now, but always from the browser, not the app because I was honestly too lazy to download it... Lol Anyways, your writing is just PERFECTION. 💖 If you are taking requests I would love to see what if Maul just found out he had a kid with you when he always thought you died over a year ago? And now he suddenly reunites with you to find out not only that you're alive, but had a baby. Thx💖

Oh my god?? Thank you so much?? That’s so nice of you goddamn???

Warnings: It’s sorta angsty! Woah shocker amiright... OH and I KNOW that some of you are gonna be on my ass about this but I’m only gonna say this once. I KNOW THAT FEMALE ZABRAKS DON’T HAVE HORNS. I KNOW, OKAY?? I JUST DON’T CARE. Plus, we. have. never. seen. a. hybrid. zabrak. The genes could get fucked if it’s a hybrid, okay WE DON’T KNOW SO I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY OF YOU LORE DETECTIVES IN MY INBOX GOING “uH aCTuALLy” BECAUSE I DON’T CARE

You. You. You. That was all Maul ever thought about these days. His failure.

Granted, he had certainly failed in many instances before, but never like this. He had conquered this gods-forsaken planet for you. You. And then what? A nameless, faceless assassin dares to come take you from him? And the worst pain of all was that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t with you and you paid the price for it.

Knowing that one should let go of such a thing was much easier said than done, and though the loss had taken place over a year prior, it had no less devastating consequences on Maul’s psyche. People often said that one doesn’t know how much they have until they’ve lost everything, as if losing everything were some sort of punishment for an ungrateful mindset. Never had he been ungrateful for you. For other things, perhaps. But not you. And still, you were gone regardless.

The halls always felt empty, even when they were full, and the city lights seemed dimmer, even if they shone just as brightly as the day before. He rarely went out, and when he did, he kept to himself as always, finished his work, and went on his way. That was just the way it was. Before, you might have tugged at his arm, leading him through the streets, stopping and peering into windows, the warm light from inside reflecting off of your bright eyes. You might have stopped to listen to the lively melodies that sometimes played in the square or leaned over to look into the rippling fountain that stood in the middle still. Perhaps you would stop in the middle of the walk to close your eyes and feel the breeze on your face, the wind brushing your hair behind you, and a content smile resting on your lips. Not on this day, though.

No. This day, he was alone, as he had been for the past 365 days, and that meant his dark hood was pulled over his head, blocking out any light from touching his features. A shadow.

As he travelled, he ignored the commotion around him, the lives and existences of others completely meaningless to him in all respects, the less time he was forced to be among them the better. Though, he couldn’t help but imagine you there, smiling at him, laughing. He had to close his eyes and force his emotions back down when he felt tears threatening to fall.

But the moment of peace didn’t last. Without warning, he felt a pain in his chest, a tightening and almost stabbing sensation that sent him gasping and almost toppling over. Baring his teeth and holding his hand to his hearts, he stopped in his tracks, attempting to will the pain to cease, or at least identify any cause. Never had he sensed anything like this, but the ache was too prominent and forceful to ignore. He had to know.

Tenderly straightening himself back up, he studied the crowd, scanning faces, watching the tops of buildings. Something familiar. Far in the back. And with that, the pain subsided, at least temporarily.

If only for a moment he saw it, it was enough for him to go barreling through the crowd, pushing through bodies and dodging arms, damning his heavy mechanical legs for not being faster. His target had moved down an alley, behind the distant buildings, and he wondered for a moment if he had hallucinated it, an occurrence that wasn’t particularly rare these days.

But the desperate hope that it wasn’t his imagination drove him to follow still, his struggle across the obstacles acting as a sign from fate perhaps that he should stay away. He had never really paid much mind to fate anyways.

You. He stopped in his tracks, chest heaving from the rush of trying to catch up. You lowered the hood of your cloak, turning your head in his direction, eyes wide and curious. You were wearing the same thing as the last time he saw you, but you carried… something.

He didn’t know what to say to you. What was he supposed to say? All he did was shake his head, muscles tightening in shock, as if he had been thrown into an icy lake. You turned away, looking down, a sadness and form of shame written all over you.

��It can’t be,” he whispered, voice wavering and lip shaking. “You’re-”

“Dead?” you finished for him, contempt hidden under your words, though not necessarily directed towards him. “Yeah, I should be. I guess we can’t all get what we want, can we?”

Maul’s face looked as if he had just been shot. “Want? You think I wanted this?”

“You would’ve looked for me if you didn’t.” Hot tears had begun running down your cheeks. “I was left there, and I had to figure out how to get out on my own. Some bitch has a bounty on my head, and you didn’t think I should’ve at least known about it?”

“I searched for you,” he said, tentatively moving closer to you. You didn’t bother backing up. “Every minute of my life for six months. It was only when I had no choice to return that I stopped. Even now, I have search parties dedicated to finding you. Your presence has not left my mind for even a moment, my Starlight. I swear it.” He had finally reached you, taking hold of your upper arms, rubbing soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. As his gaze met yours, you felt safe, the paths of his tattoos a pattern you could recreate even with your eyes shut. You hadn’t felt safe in a long time.

His eyes drifted down to the bundle of cloth in your arms, sea green and soft. Though, the majority of it wasn’t cloth at all.

“Eris,” you said, brushing at the sleeping child’s fuzzy hair. Small horns had already begun pricking up from her skull. “Only about four months old now.” You could visibly see him trying to do the math in his head. “...Yes, it’s yours, please relax.”

He nodded a moment, then stopped. “You named her without me.”

Your soft laugh sent waves of warmth through him, a sensation he had almost forgotten existed. His hand brushed against the baby’s cheek, lighter than yours in tone, as was a trait of the Night Sisters, but she had your eyes, and he thanked the gods for it.

“You are coming back?” he asked, his concern about how many of your feelings for him remained taking over. “You’ve no obligation to, but I could never live with myself if I let you go again. As it stands, I have nothing here for me anymore, and I would follow you to the ends of the galaxy if I had to. Staying at your side allows me to strive for all that I have no desire for on my own, if only to relieve any stray dissatisfaction that might torment you otherwise.”

Smiling, you looked up at him, a hand reaching up to hold his face. “I’m coming back. I’ve missed you. More than anything.”

#darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #star wars x reader #star wars x you

118 notes · View notes

tellerford13 · 3 years

Photo

MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 36

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. A/N: Oh My God We’re Back Again. It’s been a long time, but we never lost our love for Mo Astor. We’ve been plotting, and writing, and editing behind the scenes. We’re back to posting once a week. Thank you to all the readers who’ve left comments, favorited, and waited patiently. Grab a drink, sit back, and get ready to become lost in the world we’ve created.

Mo Astor Chapter 36

Jax

It’s been a long time since it was just me and my baby sister. I’m looking forward to the one-on-one, though I’d never admit it out loud. She’s been my rock through some hard times.

I imagine she’d say the same for me. When life around you is constantly shifting, you look to each other to remain stable. That’s something most don’t understand. That bond you have with someone who holds you down through all the bullshit is lifelong. It doesn’t break when you do jail time, have a difference of opinions, or get busy with life. So yeah, I guess civilians right, we ain’t like them.

“Morning,” I call as I walk into the house and disarm and reset the alarm.

“You’re making me regret giving you a key.” I follow her voice into the kitchen.

“You love it when I visit,” I retort.

“Did you tell the incubator I’m coming with you?” She asks cutting straight to the point.

I snicker. “Believe it or not, she prefers you.”

Journee scowls.

“Proves how fucking stupid she is,” she mutters.

“Jesus, Baby J. hold a grudge much?”

“Pot meet kettle. Mr. Let’s measure our dicks with Kick.” She finishes rinsing off her dishes, and piles them into the dishwasher.

“That was setting boundaries.”

“Riiight. Whatever you need to help you sleep at night. At least I own my crazy ass tendencies.” She pouts.

“’Cause that’s better?” I lean against the counter beside her.

“Oh, yeah bro. Always best to know yourself.” She winks

“You’re full of shit.”

“Guess that’s why my eyes are brown, huh? Wait that can’t be true. Cause your eyes are sky blue, J.”

“You’re supposed to be coming along for moral support,” I reminder her wryly.

“I am.” She pats my cheek as we head out of her house towards my bike. “I’m breaking you down to build you up stronger.”

“That’s some fucked up Gemma logic.” I mutter.

“She did raise us to be like her.”

“You say that with a straight face and it becomes a scary story.” She laughs.

“I know.”

“Such a little shit.” I’m smiling as I say it. Like a true little sister, no one can get away with more bullshit than her, and she knows it. It reminds me of the year she and Tommy were as thick as thieves. He was a lot like her in many ways—more soft spoken and thoughtful. As an only kid she had a crazy patience for him, reading him books, and letting him trail along beside her.

Part of me wondered if they’d have ended up together if things were different and she’d be a Teller for another reason. Especially with how things ended up for me and Lee.

I push the thought out of my mind. What if’s did nothing but drive you crazy.

“So, what exactly did I agree to go to anyway?” she asks.

“Don’t you think you should’ve asked that beforehand?” I tease.

She shakes her head. “You know I’m your ride or die.”

“I do. Basic check-up, and then lunch. I get the feeling she’s got some new man.”

She whistles. “Damn that fast?”

“Hey. If it keeps her from dicking with me and Lee, and doesn’t affect my boy, let her be happy.”

“All kidding aside.” She shuts the door to the dishwasher and turns to me. “ I’m proud of you, big brother. You’ve come a long way.”

My neck grows hot. “We both know Lee had a lot to do with that.”

“Your, opening your eyes and seeing what was in front of you did that. You and Lee were always just a matter of when not if.” She starts the wash cycle.

“So sure.” I roll my eyes.

“I could see it. Over the years you got so close, but something always kept you from clicking.” “Deep down I knew in order to keep her I’d have to get my shit together, and I wasn’t ready to do that. So I stayed back ‘cause fucking things up between us wasn’t an option, you know?”

“Things came out the way they were meant to.”

“You really think that?” I glance into her soft brown eyes, and she gives me that Madonna smile that makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. I can always be real with my sister because I know she’s going to give me the truth. Wither I want it or not.

“I do.” She reaches over and places her hand on mine. “You both had some work to do before you could commit to forever.”

“You think I have it in me? Forever and kids and all that?” I ask cautiously. So far, I’m screwing up the baby thing with my first born. It’s scary thinking of another person depending on me, let alone a child. It changes everything, and our life is unpredictable.

“You are your father’s son. Is there even a doubt?”

“Naw.” I lie, trying to fake it till I make it like I always do.

“Didn’t think so. You’re paying for lunch right? ‘Cause I’m starving.”

I laugh.

“You about to try to put a hurting on my wallet?” I hand her my spare helmet before climbing on my bike.

“Better than putting a hurting on your ex.” She says with a shrug, clipping the helmet on.

I chuckle, pulling my helmet on.

“You have a valid point. Damn you are our mothers’ child.”

She blows a raspberry, before mounting my bike. Little sis knows since she’s doing me a favor, she has the upper hand—and she’s going to milk that shit for all it’s worth. It’s the Teller way.

~~~~~~~ I’m pleasantly surprised and slightly bewildered by the manicured lawn and uncluttered space by the garage. The large black garbage cans are lined up neatly by the curb on the street.

Pulling into the driveway, I remove my helmet and pause to take in the freakish cleanliness it’s lacked in prior visits. This is above and beyond the duties we assigned the prospect keeping tabs on Wendy’s house.

“Well. This is different,” Journee whispers.

“Yeah.” I frown and turn to look over my shoulder.

“Maybe Ma sent over multiple prospects to tidy up.”

“Nu-uh.” Journee shakes her head.

“She said this was your mess to handle.” I purse my lips. “Which means it’s up to me to help you out with the pile of shit you’ve landed in.” Journee sighs.

“I feel the love.”

Journee shrugs. “I’m only speaking the truth big bro. You choose poorly for your first baby Mama. I told you how I felt about her long before you decided to give her your crow.”

I scowl. “No need to rub it in.”

“I’m just reminding you to listen to me. Sometimes I know things.” She flicks my ear and climbs off the back of my bike gracefully.

“Let’s get this torture session over, please.”

“You think it’s bad for you? I got eighteen years of this bare minimum.”

Storing our helmets in my saddlebags, I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, be my buffer.”

“I should let you go up in flames,” She mutters.

“That’s not sisterly,” I say with a grin.

“Jaxass.” She mutters.

We climb the steps, and the door swings open to reveal Wendy before we can even knock. My jaw drops at her appearance. I glance over to find Journee equally shocked.

She looks like a fucking Stepford wife in a pale-yellow sundress complete with a flared skirt and heels. Last time she dressed like this a waffle iron came flying at my head.

“Jackson. Cat got your tongue?” Wendy smirks.

Journee growls. “Aaaah, the little cocoa sidekick.”

“You know it only takes nine months to bake a baby, and you’ve got what...” Journee taps a finger against her cheek. “Less than three months left?”

“Nice to know you can count,” Wendy sneers.

This is a new woman in front of me. I’m glad that she’s gotten the idea of us getting back together to be a family out of her head, but this one-eighty makes me uneasy.

I scan her body, and notice the thick strips of white medical tape over her entire right forearm.

They stand out against her nineteen-fifties get up.

“The fuck.” I grab her arm. “What are you hiding?”

“Your mark. Which meant nothing.” She spits, tugging her arm away.

“Let me see.”

“Fuck you, Jackson.”

Journee moves forward, blocking the doorframe with her body to keep me from dragging the smart-mouthed bitch out.

“I swear to God. If you’re using again.” My breath quickens, and my visions tints red as rage builds up inside me like an inferno about to blaze out of control.

“You can take it off on your own. Or I can make you,” Journee says softly.

“One of these days, someone is going to put you in your fucking place. You don’t even belong here,” Wendy growls.

Journee climbs up another step, getting in her face.

“I know exactly who I am, where I belong, and where I’m wanted. You could never say the same, could you? Poor little lost girl, with loose legs begging to belong.”

Wendy blinks and turns away. Her hands tremble as she unwraps the tape and thrusts her arm toward me. “Look your fill. You dick.”

I peer down at the unmarred skin, and my knees nearly go weak with relief. “It better stay this way.”

“I have someone to take care of me now, Jackson. I don’t need your bullshit concerns.”

“The minute you give birth to my baby you can do whatever the hell you want. Until that time, your business is mine.”

“It’s my baby too.” Her tone makes me stand up straight.

“What was that Wendy?” My voice drops an octave. “Is the junkie with no job trying to tell me she thinks she’s the better parent?”

“Inside.” Journee whispers.

Of course, We always have to keep up appearances here in town.” My mother’s voice plays in my head.

The fresh scent of cleanser and scented candles greets me. The house has never looked this good.

Who turned her into June Cleaver? I search the place for clues. The laundry basket resting on the couch has t-shirts that are far too big for Wendy, and the black boxers are a dead giveaway.

I don’t feel anything for her. I haven’t for far longer than I care to admit. But I do worry about the company she’s keeping with my boy still in her belly.

He’s not a junkie. Shit’s too put together for that.

“Going somewhere?” Journee asks, nodding toward the kitchen.

I spot the half-packed boxes and bare spaces on the counter.

“I don’t want to stay in this house of lies.” Her dark eyes burn into mine.

“And where do you plan on going?” I ask. She looks away.

“Do you really want us to have to find you?” Journee asks.

Wendy crosses her arms under her breasts, pulling the material tight around her waist.I take in the bulge that’s grown over the past month.

“I’m just preparing.”

“You’re not supposed to be lifting heavy things right now.”

“I have help,” She snaps.

“You aren’t the only person who’d ever want me.” Her hands ball into fists. “If you can move on, so can I.”

“No one is saying you can’t, you crazy bitch. Calm the fuck down before you distress my godson. There’s no reason for everyone to get all worked up. We get it. Wendy bagged herself a new man. Good for you. We’re here to get our report on the baby, and we’ll be gone. The quicker you update us, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair.” Journee holds her hands out like she’s wrangling two high school kids about to fight.

Huffing, she stalks over to the large chair and sits down crossing her ankles, like some kind of proper lady. I’m in the fucking twilight zone. I lean forward with my arms on my knees, drinking up her reports. My boy is growing properly and healthy. It’s more than I could’ve hoped for, considering how fast and hardcore we were living when she got knocked up.

We were both empty shells looking to fill up spaces neither of us could ever fit into.

It’d been fun for a while, but it had never been built to last. She wasn’t even a consolation prize post-Tara tear down— Wendy was a pretty thing to warm my bed and play by the club rules without question. Now I’m paying for my poor choices.

“You satisfied?” Wendy asks. Journee looks at me, and I nod.

“For now.” Journee nods her head, and we both rise.

“Same time next month, Case.” Journee drawls. Such a little shit. Makes a brother proud.

She scowls as we leave.

“What. the fuck, Jax?” Journee whispers.

I shake my head. “Not sure, but if he keeps her shit together for the next 2 and half months, I don’t much care.”

~~~~~~

Sitting down at the table in Hannah’s, I wait for J to finish most of her meal before bringing up the main reason I wanted to go out to lunch after.

“All right Baby J, so…I gotta admit there's another reason I brought you along today.” I begin, wiping my hands off with my napkin. She rolls her eyes playfully at me. “Of course there is. So, which of my skill sets will you need for this favor? I've got a few spots saved in the woods for disposal and Hap gave me an amazing cleaner kit for my birthday.” She says with an excited grin and a bloodlust in her eyes. She is so her father’s daughter. I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head in Disbelief. By looking at her you'd never guess what she was capable of. But with her dad the Sergeant at Arms of Grim Bastards, and her mentor Happy Lowman…there’s a side to her that I never want to get on the bad side of. “Well I do need your skills, just not those ones.” I say, taking a sip of my water. She raises a curious eyebrow at me before smirking.

“Sorry bro, my other skills are only allowed to be enjoyed by my husband and my wifey. As kinky as my old man is, I don't think we're ready to swing just yet.”

She teases with a wink and I damn near spit my sip out. “Jesus J, not that either! Shit little sister, I’ve only just begun playing in Lee's pussy myself. No other dick is going to be poking around in her till it’s been claimed to completion.” Her eyebrows shoot up.“Already planning on making her your second baby mama?” "Second and final. But not just yet. I just got her to say I love you to me. If I plant the seed too soon, I'm worried she'd rip out the roots.”

She rolls her eyes. “Naw Bro, Lee'd never terminate.”

“Oh I know, I wasn't talking about the baby. I was more concerned with her going Loreena Bobbitt on me.” I say honestly, shifting in my seat at the imaginary pain. She bursts out laughing, nodding her head in agreement. “Yea, that uh, that might be more likely.” She says between adorable little snorts.

I nod my head in agreement. “Exactly and seeing is how I ain't planning on changing my singing voice anytime soon, I'm real careful how I'm navigating this one.” Feels like the story of my life right now. It’s been a unique experience having the girl be hesitant with me.With Tara and Wendy, we went full steam ahead, and the crows afterwards all but jumped on my dick the minute I looked at them.

Lee is different. And being with her like this has shown me just how special she is.

She’s worth the time and the energy to make this work for both of us.

J offers me a soft, approving smile. “That's good to hear.” I nod. It’s a relief knowing how much baby sister supports us. None of this would’ve happened without her, and I know she’s got my back to help me navigate these new relationship waters. “Besides she's got that IED thing in her arm.” I add.

She bursts out laughing again and this time I'm a little confused.

“It's an IUD dumbass. Lee doesn't have a fucking bomb implanted in her arm.” She teases and I can't help but chuckle.

There's a joy in her eyes I haven't seen since before the whole Kyle debacle. I'm not the least bit surprised her old man helped put it there. I've known about his crush on her for years, but I knew better than to say shit. I figure if Chibs was taking his time there had to be a reason. Brother was one of the most strategic mother fuckers I knew. I was fifteen when he patched in, and after losing my old man, I saw him like the big brother I never had. There was no one I listened to and trusted more than Filip Telford.

I loved Ope and, there would always be a lifelong bond between us, but when he met Donna, we both felt something sever between us. He became a family man almost overnight, and I wasn’t done sewing my wild oats. Plus, the way the whole thing went down with him hurting J, it never sat right with me. Those two had been headed in a direction that would’ve been something real special. But then Mary got involved, dragged him away and he came back with Donna.

I can still feel my anger at the look of heartbreak he’d put on Journee’s face.

He’s been out a few months now and I rarely see him. The separation has been painful, but he’s trying to go the way of the straight and narrow for his family. Donna’s laid out the rules damn clearly. If he gets into trouble again, she’s out. Should’ve had brown babies Ope. This was the real danger of marrying and procreating with a Civi. They never fully understood our world, and few respected the price that sometimes must be paid to be apart of it. I don’t resent Ope for finding love, but I do resent his love for taking him away from his family.

“All right, Well then I'm lost Jay boy. If it ain’t cleaning and it ain’t playtime…what could you need from me?” She asks, taking a sip from her drink. My stomach flutters excitedly. I reach into the pocket of my cut. Producing the crinkled, early stages of a sketch I’ve been working on, I slide it over to her.

“Need the artiste in you little sister.” She glances at me and then opens the paper. My excitement turns to nerves as I watch her eyes studying the picture presented to her. "What am I looking at here J?" She asks and I scowl slightly. "I mean I know I'm not a great artist like you, but you can tell it's a crow.”

She chuckles. “I mean I know that, but I’m wondering why I'm looking at crow?”

"Right so, I need your help J. I want to design a new crow for Lee. After the shit with Kick, I need her inked. I want everyone to know she's claimed.” Her eyebrows shoot up again. “Wait what? A new crow, but your dad designed the first one. Why do you want to do new?” “I know dad designed the first one, but he designed it for my mom. And then ya know other old ladies got it and it just sort of became trademark.” I pause. “But there's nothing trademark about my old lady. I want her to have one just for her, cause she's damn special to me and she deserves something that represents not just me but us. Like you and Chibs did. Seeing the crow designed specifically for the two of you made me realize, I don't want her wearing the same generic shit that both Tara and Wendy got. Lee is never gonna be an ex, I know she's my forever and I want this crow to be more than just the generic SAMCRO trademark.”

I explain my thought process to her watching the smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

“So, that's what I need your help with. No one loves Lee as much as me and no one knows her better. I've got an idea and I can explain what I want, but I need your help executing my vision and making it something that represents us both and that she'd be proud to wear.”

I wait for her reaction. She studies the sketch and runs her fingers over the lines. “Where are you thinking she wears her brand?” I can’t help but remember before we were together, standing in my dorm room at Journee's engagement party. Journee running her slender fingers over Lee's chest saying how sexy a chest piece would look. I lick my lips and shift in my seat before clearing my throat. “Depends what we come up with. I know I’m definitely going to want her to get a chest piece so anyone who looks knows exactly who she belongs to, but I also know she's gotta be careful with size given her business dealings in the upper crust. So maybe just property off Jax across her chest so she can cover it up if need be. But this crow, HER crow...I don't want to worry about size. Maybe her shoulder or tricep for when she's in tank tops. After we design it and I give it to her, I'll let her decide where.”

Journee nods thoughtfully. “All right so explain to me what you're thinking.” She reaches into her oversized satchel she almost always has with her, and pulls out a small sketch book and pencil. I chuckle at her. She shrugs sheepishly. “Hey I'm an artist, never know when inspiration might strike.” She says flipping the book open to an empty page. “So I like what you have going here with the crow but what if you go with a two headed crow. Sort of like you and her becoming one.” She explains, masterfully sketching out what I'd already drawn and adding on to it. “Now, tell me what else you're thinking.”

By the time we’re finished, the idea is a fully formed tattoo. The two crows each have a wing.

A bleeding heart in the middle of the crows speaks to our passion and dedication for each other. One crow clutches an A.K. 47 for the club, and the other crow clutches an olive branch to represent the peace she brings me. With her, I’m completely balanced. Journee’s thrown in a few other hidden easter eggs to symbolize Lee. My name sits above the entire thing to let everyone know who my old lady belongs to. I love that in a way Journee is woven in there. There would be no me and Lee without her wonderfully “subtle” match making ways. We stand to leave, and I toss 20 extra bucks down on a 24-dollar bill. SamCro always makes sure to tip extra well in town. Keeps our business running and our business owners happy to have us. As we're walking out my phone rings and I can't help but grin when I see Lee's name on the caller ID.

“Hey beautiful, I was just thinking about you.” I say answering the phone. “How'd your meeting go?” I ask as we walk towards my bike. "Hey baby, went good. I think your mom and I were able to nail down the last of the details for the taste of Charming festival coming up.” I can hear the relief in her tone.

“Glad to hear it Darlin. J and I just finished up lunch. Headed back now.” I pause.“I mean, headed home.” I correct, winking at the smirk J gives me. “Glad to hear it darlin.” She mocks on the other end. J and I get to the bike and she grabs her helmet. “How’d your meeting go with Wendy?”

“Went good. I’ll tell you more about when I get there.”

“Okay baby.” I can hear her hesitation for a moment.

“Something wrong?”

“No, not at all. But umm Sack came by this morning with a few boxes of your stuff. And I hope you don't mind that I started unpacking some things. You know I hate boxes.” My heart damn near soars at her words. “Of course I don't mind Lee. You know how I hate unpacking, so unpack away. I can't wait to see it. My shit mixed in with yours. Bet it's gonna look amazing.” I say honestly. After our bathtub wall breaking session we both wanted as much of my stuff into her house as soon as possible.

Mostly cause I didn't want her changing her mind on me. “I think you'll like it. I’m headed back to the house now. You done for the day or you got Club stuff you gotta do?”

“I got some free time babe. I'll head over after I drop J off.”

I mount my bike so J can get on while I finish up my phone call. “Okay sounds good Jax.” She grows quiet for a second before a sweet "I love you Jackson," comes through the earpiece. I can't help the smile hearing her initiate the L word that been circling my head for months.

“I love you too Harley.” I say sincerely, picturing her bashful, smile on the other end.

“I'll see you soon babe.”

“Okay, bye baby.” She says before disconnecting the call. Journee is settled in her seat behind me and I can practically feel her smile. “How'd that feel?” She asks learning forward to wrap her arms around my waist. “Pretty Amazing, I’ll never get tired of hearing that from her.” I answer honestly, pulling my helmet on. I can always be honest and real around J. “I know the feeling.” She says giving me a squeeze. She leans forward to place an affectionate kiss on my check.“I'm so happy for you Jackson. For both of you.” She says.

I thread my fingers in her course curls and cup the back of her head. After Pressing a firm kiss to her cheek, I rest my head on top of hers for a moment. “Thank you, Journee. For everything.” I sincerely say.

There is no doubt in my mind if it hadn’t been for my baby sister I wouldn’t be in this amazing stage with Lee.

Knowing me I would’ve fucked us up by now. She gives me a squeeze before situating in her seat. “All right, enough with the chick flick moment. Take me home chauffer, time for me to go see my old man.” She says like a little kid getting ready to open presents as soon as she gets home. “Yes ma'am.” I tease starting my bike and heading out. ~~~~~ A/N: In case ya’ll were wondering this was what Tellerford was thinking Lee’s Crow Looks like. It’s based off a Design the show produced and was tweaked to fit our image lol. So we thought you might like a little glimpse into what’s in our head.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jax Teller #chibs telford #Mo Astor

8 notes · View notes

heathsbitch · 4 years

Text

YES, SIR - g.m*

CHARACTER(S): George MacKay (Actor)

WARNING: Smut, unprotected sex, absolute filth, age-gap (Professor AU)

WORD COUNT: 3566

"That'll be all for today, remember you have exactly a week until your next assignments are due. Good luck," His voice reverberated throughout the lecture hall. People begun to stand up, their books carelessly thrown in their bags. "Y/N, can I borrow you for a moment?" My head snapped towards my professor, heart pounding against my chest, 'What did he want?' As soon as the hall was empty of students, with the exception of me, I approached his desk. "There's no need to look so worried, you're not in trouble," His smile was kind, it almost seemed to light up the space around him, but perhaps that was just my admiration for him. I was quite fond of my professor. He genuinely cared for his students, always pushing for them to be better; I always found myself striving to please him. Besides, he was also described to be the 'best looking professor I have ever laid eyes on'. Not my words, but I could hardly argue with them, they were true words.

His hands fumbled with the papers on his desk, his eyebrows furrowed in search of something. My eyes wandered him as I waited. They trailed up the veins of his forearms, disappearing into shirt he had rolled up to his elbows. The same shirt that hugged his biceps and chest, a deep maroon colour. "Here," Professor MacKay muttered to himself as he held a paper in his hand, my paper. "I wanted to congratulate you on it personally." I was lost for words, how could he be that impressed with it that he wanted to speak to me privately. "Thank you, sir, but can I ask why?" He chuckled at my coyness, "Come here," He beckoned me over to his desk as he placed the paper on it. My eyes flickered over my work, remembering the stress that I had gone through to hand it in on time.

He moved closer to me, his body mere centimetres away from mine. His long finger pointed at a particular section, he dragged it across my words as he spoke, "This imagery, Y/N, its one of the best things I've ever read, and I don't say that lightly," I could almost hear the smile in his words despite not looking at his face. "The way you write about her being utterly infatuated with him, to the point where she'd completely surrender herself to him...its beautiful. The way you write about love, it seems as though you lived through hundreds of relationships. Now that's not true, is it, Y/N?"

The way the words fell from his lips, the way he praised me, the way his voice lowered as he said my name; it had me weak in my knees. "No, sir." My words were quiet, not quite believing what he was telling me. "I'd love to hear about your thought process behind this piece." The truth, the real truth was that I was projecting myself onto the woman. I longed for someone to submit myself to, someone who could utterly dominate me. And the image that formed in my head when writing was none other than my professor. I stuttered, unsure of what lie to tell him. I couldn't possibly tell him the truth. His breath fanned my neck and I could feel his cerulean eyes burning into my frame; small and meek compared to his tall stature.

"George, you will not fucking believe what-oh," A saviour had arrived. "I thought you were alone." The man stopped in his tracks as he stared at us. I could feel Mr MacKay had moved away from me, his warmth no longer radiating onto me. "Dean, don't worry about it." His professional demeanor dropped as he spoke to his friend. "Professor, I should go." I turned around to face him and he nodded, his eyes darting between my own and his friend's. "Of course. Good luck on your next assignment, I'm expecting big things." His smile was intended to be comforting but his words shot anxiety through my body, more pressure being applied to me. "Thank you, sir." I left the room without a second thought, eager to get started on my work so I could finish it as soon as possible.

Three hours and counting. That's how long I'd been staring at my blank page, the whiteness of it boring into my tired eyes. Inspiration ran short in my mind. Mr MacKay's words paced through my head, "I'm expecting big things."

What if I couldn't deliver? Would he be mad at me? Disappointed?

Surely not, he always seemed so polite and comforting, he would understand, right? My thoughts turned dark almost instantly, what if he did have a darker side? My previous assignment appeared before me, the scene Sir was talking about firmly planted in my mind. The woman was on her knees, begging, and I couldn't help but imagine myself in that situation.

"Please, sir, I'm yours, all yours to do with as you please." He looked down at me, his fingers delicately holding my chin, a condescending smile playing upon his perfect lips. "I know you're mine, you little slut. You're mine and only mine, is that understood, angel?" His fingers moved down to grab my neck, squeezing the flesh that rested underneath his calloused hand.

Stop. I slammed the lid of my laptop shut. My work could wait until tomorrow when my head was clear.

Oh, how wrong I was. The two hour lecture was torture in its purest form, my thoughts from last night plaguing my mind still as I gazed upon my professor as he taught from the front of the hall. I had instantly regretted sitting in one of the front seats as soon as I sat down, his eyes bore into me for the entire time.He had never done that before, I realised. Previously when I'd sat at the front, he would always look at the other students so why was he only focused on me? I groaned underneath my breath, trying to focus on the words that left his mouth and that's when I realised. My t-shirt ran along the tops of my breasts, more skin was exposed than usual. 'Surely not.' I thought to myself. Mr MacKay couldn't be distracted because of some tits. But my theory was proven right when his gaze caught mine once more, his eyes flickering down to my chest before they came up to my eyes again. A red tint crept onto his cheeks, I had caught him.

The rest of the lecture went by surprisingly quick, and I didn't catch Mr MacKay looking at my chest again. As usual, I was the last one to leave and for the second day in a row, my professor called out to me, "Y/N, forgive me, I-I don't know what came over me." The blush returned to his cheeks as his hands toyed with one another. "Professor, you don't have to apologise, it's fine," A smirk slid onto my lips, maybe one day my fantasies would come true. 'Fat chance.' I mentally scolded myself. Silence fell upon the lecture hall, the light streaming in from the thin windows. Sun beams bounced off of Mr MacKay's face, highlighting his cheekbones and his jawline. His eyes seemed to glow in the light, the deep pools of blue dragging me further into his charm, further under his grasp.

"I should go."

"Yes, yes, of course," He responded almost immediately, "Big things, Y/N."He pointed a long finger at me, his teeth shining from the lighting in the room. I nodded before hurrying out the lecture hall

Two more days passed and I was still struggling with my assignment. I kept asking myself if I should just go to Professor MacKay and ask for help, but every time I went to seek out his office, I stopped myself. However it seemed that help came to find me instead. As I was leaving the campus, I bumped into none other than Mr MacKay himself. Quite literally. I wasn't watching where I was going and before I knew it, I was face-to-face with the man in question. Or rather, face-to-chest. "Sorry, Professor, I should've been looking where I was going." I let out a timid laugh but avoided his gaze. "It's quite alright," Silence passed over us again so I took the time to briefly look at him. A navy shirt hugged his chest, rolled up to his elbows as always.

"How's your assignment going?"

My heart beat doubled instantly. 'Should I tell him the truth?' Oh, what's the harm. "Actually, it's not going too great," Once again, I tried to avert my eyes from his piercing gaze. "I, um, was actually wondering if you could help me with it."

"Of course, Y/N," He beamed at me, he seemed slightly too enthusiastic. He led me through various corridors and hallways to his office. Inside, the room was neat and tidy. I wouldn't have expected anything less from him. "Take a seat. Obviously, I can't help you too much, it would be unfair on other students. But I'll try and do what I can." I followed his instruction and took a seat in one of the leather chairs that sat at his desk. What surprised me is that he took the one next to me, rather than the one on the opposite side.

"Thank you, sir. For doing this for me." That damn smile. It was wrong, I knew it was wrong; pining after my professor like this. But that feeling, it spurred me on almost. The danger of it all, the risk. It was enticing, alluring, arousing.

"Show me what you have so far," I pulled my notebook out of my bag and placed it on his large desk. His eyes scanned over my scarce plan, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, his fingers playing upon his lips. He hummed slightly, his knee knocking against mine. I shouldn't have looked. As if my lust for him couldn't get worse, I had to go and look at his thighs. His thick thighs. I could practically see the muscles clenching and relaxing under the fabric of his trousers. His fingers danced upon the page of my notebook, one finger in particular pointing at a section. "I like this, could you expand on this?" His voiced lowered at the end of his sentence, blue eyes passing over my body. I came closer to him, to read what he had pointed out. Once again, I could feel his breath against me, the warmth of his body radiating against mine.

More. I wanted more.

I tore my eyes off the page to look at my professor. I could see the cogs ticking behind his eyes, the thoughts racing through his head. Eyes cast to my lips, his tongue passed over his own. "Professor..." I muttered before his lips came crashing onto mine, his large hand weaving into my hair to pull my head closer to his. Parting his lips, he pushed his tongue into my mouth. Wet, silky, soft lips moved against my own. My heart pounded against my chest so hard I was scared he'd be able to see it. I moved my own hands to rest on him, one on his knee, the other at the base of his neck. The hairs their enticed my hands, begged me to pull at the strands, so I did. A groan erupted from his lips, he pulled away not long after. "I-I, this." He seemed lost for words. "We don't have to if you don't want to." I told him, fearing I had over-stepped. "No, no, I want to," His eyes seemed to darken with his own words. "I was just wondering if this was alright with you."

"It's more than alright." A smirk found it's way back onto my lips as my hand slid further into the fluff of his hair. "Tell me if you want me to stop, at any moment." His eyes were filled with concern, his eyebrows furrowed once more. His breath fanned my face, "I will, but believe me, I'm not gonna want you to stop," I moved my lips closer to his ear, my voice barely above a whisper, "I'm yours, sir. Use me as you please, treat me like the slut I am." A moan came from his perfect lips, his thigh tensing under my hand. "Didn't think you had it in you." He muttered before dragging me into his lap. Rough hands pressed into my body, squeezing at my flesh, starting at my neck and working their way down to my ass.

"Sir." I whimpered as he slapped it harshly. "Fucking love it when you call me that. Don't act like it doesn't turn you on too," Our lips met once more, more passionate than the first time. Teeth clashed with each other, tongues collided, lips smacked one another. It was all lust, lust driving us into each other, lust causing the friction between our laps. My hips began to grind against his, his hands urging me on. He pulled me closer to him then pulled me away, then closer again, repeating the same action over and over again, fighting for more friction between us.

His mouth parted from mine, "Stand up," He pushed me off of his thighs, it was like a switch had been flipped; one moment he was kind and generous, the next intimidating and dominant. Mr MacKay followed in my actions, standing up so our warm bodies pressed against each other once more. Despite his domineering actions, his hands trembled slightly as they raised my top above my head. "Been thinking about these," His head moved to my chest, peppering light kisses along the tops of my breasts. Hands making quick work of the clasp, he pulled the garment away from me, nipples hardening from the cool air of his office. My fingers, toiled with the tendrils of his hair, tugging at the strands. His hips thrusted into mine slightly with every tug of mine.

Purple marks started to form on my breasts from Mr MacKay's work, he made his way up to my neck, intending to leave his mark there too. I could feel his tongue slip and slide against my flesh, his teeth lightly biting into the skin. Sir's hands moved again, grabbing at my trousers, yanking them down my legs. My professor took a step away from me, his eyes burning through my body. "Fuck," He whimpered at the sight of me, my chest and neck littered with his mark, almost naked in front of him. The bulge in between his legs grew bigger by the second, begging to break free from its tight restraints. Thoughts began to fill his head again. "Do you think about me a lot then, sir?" I padded towards him, confusion light upon his face. "You said you've been thinking about these," I raised my small hands to play with my nipples, pinching them and twisting them. "Tell me, Professor. Do you touch yourself with thoughts of me in your mind?"

I cocked my head, hands coming from my body to press against his, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. His eyes watched me like a hawk watches its prey. "Tell me, do you have me on my knees, begging to such your cock?" Confidence poured into my veins, spurring me on more and more. "Or am I bent over your desk? Legs spread wide, dripping for your touch?" I slid his shirt off of his body. I was taken aback by it slightly, I wasn't expecting him to be so muscular. Veins slid down his chest, past his v-line and disappeared under his trousers. "You've got a pretty mouth, little one. Let's put it to use shall we?" His smirk was wicked as his hands pushed me to me knees.

His trousers were pooled at his ankles before long, his erection already leaking at the tip, a dark patch forming on his underwear. "To answer your question, yes, little one." Fire wracked my body, an intense heat sent straight to my core. My hands shook as I removed his restraints from him. His cock sprang free, thick and veiny before my eyes. I immediately took it into my hands, they appeared tiny in comparison. I ran them across the length before taking it in my mouth. It lay heavy against my tongue; I tried to take as much as I possibly could, his tip hitting the back of my throat quicker than I expected. I gagged and spluttered, pulling him out of me so I could regain myself. "What's wrong, slut? Never had a cock this big?" He antagonised me from above, hands threading into my hair, "Open wide."

I followed his orders and allowed him back into my mouth. Control was entirely his, his hips thrusting against my head. I was completely at his mercy, as I always wished to be. More gags came from me but he never stopped, he never yielded."Can't cum yet," He told me before pulling me off of his cock. But I brought my hands back to him, bringing him close to his orgasm again. "I thought you were a good girl, little one. Perhaps I should've taught you better. Bend over." He grabbed at me, pulling me from my knees and pushing me to his desk. I bent over, completely exposed to him, completely at his mercy. His large hands found their way to my flesh, running across it before delivering a hard smack my ass. A whimper left me, the stinging sensation causing more wetness to gather between my legs. "Look at how wet you are for me. Fucking pathetic," Another spank, and another, and another. "You know what you need? A real man. A real man to take care of you."

His fingers danced up my slit, toying with my entrance briefly before landing on my clit. "Yes, sir. Please, ruin me, professor." A groan echoed in the room before the sound of Mr MacKay kicking away his trousers. "Gonna use you now. This is gonna hurt, little one. Tell me if you want me to stop." He muttered in my ear. He took his cock in his hand and ran it across my slip, gathering the wetness before pushing into me. He stretched me open, the pain causing me more pleasure. "Shit." We hissed in unison from the feeling. "So tight, so fucking tight." Mr MacKay moaned, his hands forcing my hips into the desk. My nails dug into the wood below me, the euphoric feeling almost too much for me to bear. His pace started to quicken. Soon he was driving into me without mercy, using me for his own pleasure. Skin slapped against skin, the sound of moans and groans drowned the room.

His tight grasp on me broke to deliver another spank to my already red ass. "Fucking whore, my whore." He whimpered in my ear as he bent over the desk, his chest pressed into my back. The position didn't last long, he pulled out of me and turned me around so we were face-to-face once again. Mr MacKay entered me again, I wish I could've taken a picture because the sight of him was almost enough to make me cum on the spot. His hair was tousled, stray strands stuck to his forehead because of the sweat, his lips swollen and wet from kisses, parted from the feeling of my tight pussy gripping his thick cock. A hand made it's way to my throat as he pounded into me. He shoved me down onto his desk, his grip tightening every second. "S-sir, gonna..."

"I know, princess. I'm close too. Just hold on a little longer, keep your eyes open for me angel," My professor brought me back up to meet his lips once more briefly. We were chest-to-chest, our hands buried in each other's hair, sweat dripping from our bodies. "Cum for me, angel. Fucking cum," Warmth surged throughout my body as it pushed further against my professor. "Gonna cum," He warned me. Mr MacKay pulled out of me, his hand darting down to his cock, furiously tugging at it. His beautiful eyes screwed shut, the muscles in his chest and abdomen all tensed as ropes of hot cum shot out of his cock and onto my stomach.

"Fuck, Y/N," The room stilled. George's head rested in the crook of my neck, mine against his shoulder. The soreness had already begun to work it's way into my body, a small whimper left my swollen lips. As he heard the noise, he came back to meet my lips, placing a sweet kiss to them. It wasn't as lust-filled as all of the others we had shared that night, it was more passionate, more loving. "I should help with your assignment now." I chuckled against his chest, a laugh leaving him also. "Clean me up first, George."

"Shit, sorry. I like it when you say my real name." He smiled at me again before searching for something he could use to clean me up. The realisation had started to settle in, I had just slept with my professor. Would this be a one-time thing? Or a regular occurrence? Only time would tell.

#george mackay #smut #1917 #true history of the kelly gang #fic

141 notes · View notes

shotbyshe · 3 years

Text

8.13.21

"Happy Friday the 13th." -- She says to literally everyone today....co-workers and little brothers included.

Tidbits I jotted while "working": - I got my hello fresh box today and i already want to quit again as i did back in 2017. - work has been pretty dry today. today has been dry but for some reason i can't get anything done. - read some of the book - having a hard time focusing on one thing today

Every time I give myself a challenge, an activity or a hobby I make it into a chore. I did this with painting, editing, knitting, video games, reading, journaling, math game activities, coloring, logging my meals, even self care sometimes, the June vlogging challenge and now the August writing challenge.

I give myself something I must complete everyday -- because my days often feel nonproductive or lacking in some sort of creativity/fun/learning stimulant way -- and then I delay in doing it or dread doing it.

I tend to strive to get everything under control, then slack off when I have everything under control. Things are clean, in their places, and well organized now, therefore something in my brain is telling me to fuck it all up and make a mess...as if “okay, you've done everything, now fuck it all up so you have more things to do, or to then fix back.” What the actual hell?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's 6:30pm right now and all I can think about is how I need to shower, clean up the kitchen -- 'cause I was cooking for the first time in a long time -- and brush my Goddamn unruly hair...as well as read this damn book and go through my journal/to do lists for yesterday and today.

I don't know why I do this to myself.

I make a big deal out of nothing.

To complete my HelloFresh thought:

- I had HelloFresh back in the day when I first moved to Manhattan.

Sidenote: I even remember when they were recruiting customers on the street. I used to work on Wall Street and that’s where their NY headquarters is. That’s how I was first introduced to HelloFresh, long before Youtubers were sponsored by them. Those were the days.

I believe I started my membership in 2016 and kept it until 2017. I enjoyed cooking and I did learn a lot about fragrances and how and what foods go together, etc. But I didn't always enjoy the meals...and I found the cooking to become a chore.

(Literally what I was saying before)

. So I ended my subscription back then. Recently now I've been bored with eating the same things everyday and I find that I need to eat FULL MEALS. I can't snack or have a small portion. I have to have my mocha, water, and one-to-two full meals. I've only ever, since maybe 2019, been having soups, salads and stir frys. That shit gets mundane and tiring as hell after two years. So I thought why not start HelloFresh again, why not cook different-type shit again? Plus you don't have to cook meat

(this was another reason I'd left).

But with my low iron I need to eat meat. Having said all that, cooking the chicken today, and this shawarma meal I prepared, was not fun! I remember that I hate cooking with and eating meat. It makes me very uncomfortable, and it smells gross. Upon finishing the meal -- though very delicious and hit the spot -- it was quite bland. I enjoyed it I'm not going to lie, however, I do not eat any food that whole day so it could be that my brain thinks it was good because I was so hungry. I don't know, I'll give it another week. This time I’ll try vegan/veggie meals only. I hope that helps. ** I also had to bring the box to my apartment from the lobby b/c they deliver by messenger. FML.

To complete my other thoughts that focuses on not being able to focus:

- Yeah I have no clue. I said yesterday I would stop taking the iron tablets. I actually did that and I feel so much better even just after one day. I didn't take them today and my stomach hasn't been stupid, so I will continue to not take them for the remainder of the month. If I feel I can stand it I'll continue in September. I want to at least enjoy the rest of my Summer pain-free the best way I can.

- Work is always dry on Fridays and moreso the end of the week period. I like my job. I like it a lot. It's such a blessing. It's so freeing. I'm able to live a carefree life b/c the income just takes care of itself. I'm very lucky. But then again I did work hard to get here. I'm glad I can complain about not having anything to do, as opposed to

"having soooo much to do"

. People actually brag about that shit. I'll never understand it. I must point out that

"keeping busy"

and bragging that you

"have so much going on"

are two different things. I am keeping busy but I have nothing "going on"......except life of course. This vast never-ending everlasting circle. Shout out to Mufasa for teaching me that.

- Yeah I read some of the book, like 5 pages. I couldn't concentrate because all I kept thinking about was all of the things that I needed to get done. In order for me to focus on one thing I have to first deal with all of the clutter around me. Yes, I can't just sit and read while drinking my mocha. I have to clear up the whole place, including my notes on the computer, before I can sit down and enjoy a book. I'm that OCD and strategic.

#august challenge #writing #writings #journal #jounalling #bbq #barbecue #day party #nyc #hellofresh #friday the 13th #summer #journaling #shawarma

2 notes · View notes

sparklydreamies · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (1) Bang Chan: Perfection

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Bang Chan

Genre: Light angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,300+

Summary: Bang Chan can’t afford to take breaks in this industry.

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/n: This is the beginning of an 8 part Stray Kids hurt/comfort series!! I hope that you will all enjoy this a lot :) also writing this sort of theme about Chan absolutely killed me because this man deserves the entire world ;-;

TW: This story contains a descriptive anxiety attack.

Through the blurry, sleepy view his eyes gave him, Bang Chan could barely make out the small, digital clock on his desk that read 3:14. He groaned softly as he resumed his work on what was soon to be Stray Kids’ next title track.

Normally, Chan considers himself a person who is able to work fast and diligently at the same time, which often comes in handy in an industry that demands perfection. Yet, as he sat slouched in his desk chair, fiddling with his laptop to try and create a proper bass line, he began to feel pressured.

For a producing idol, having writer’s block was a death sentence. Nothing had the power to overwhelm Chan with the heavy feeling of anxiety like a deadline for a demo due at the end of the week which has barely been started.

It’s not that the song hasn’t been started, it’s that it has been started and restarted too many times to count after Chan deemed the previous draft unacceptable. Chan’s standards for himself might seem overkill to some people, but Chan calls it being a perfectionist.

Everyone, including Bang Chan knows that real perfection was not possible for a man to achieve, however that didn’t stop Chan from striving for it. In a way, it was a blessing and a curse. Being a perfectionist meant that Chan was never finished with anything until he was one hundred percent proud of it. This demo was not an exception.

As Chan listened to the basic beats he had recorded already, he began to drift out of consciousness.

He had to finish the track. He was so tired. Maybe if he took a twenty minute nap he would feel better. No, he would just end up sleeping all night. Wake up. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

He was yanked out of his dreamy state by the harsh sound of his phone vibrating on his desk. He took a second to gather his surroundings before checking the text message sent to him.

Changbinnie: Where are you?

Chan groaned. Changbin has been on his ass all week about taking care of himself as if he was made of glass. Changbin should know that this was how Chan worked. He always pushes himself to his breaking point and faces the brink of exhaustion in order to create the best music he could. There was no other way for him to make music.

Channie: Studio

Chan cracked his back against his chair before getting back to work. It was only three in the morning, which was hardly late enough for Chan to admit defeat and give into his drooping eyelids.

He didn’t get it. Music always came so easily to him. All of the lyrics he tried to write sounded too awkward for his liking. All of the beats were too overdone and basic. He was frustrated and tired, and far too busy to deal with Changbin’s nagging.

Sure, Chan hasn’t been around for many meals during the past few days. Lord knows he hasn’t seen the inside of the dorm in three days straight unless it was to shower and change. Chan scoffed thinking of how he would react if it was one of the other members working to this extent. He would physically restrain them to their beds if that was necessary. He was different, though. He was the leader and the eldest. He didn’t have the time to worry about himself. He was responsible for all of their careers. He could handle a little bit of extra work.

His hands were shaking slightly as he recorded another chord progression for the pre-chorus. At this point, Chan didn’t even know if they were shaking from exhaustion or from the sheer amount of caffeine he had coursing through his system.

Chan let out another exasperated noise of defeat as he listened to the choppy way the verse led into the pre-chorus. He felt the frustration take right to his heart. His head was pounding, and he gripped the strands of his hair to ground himself.

He was okay. He had pulled songs out of his ass before, he could do it now. It was going to be fine. Maybe if he added a lead-up sound into the pre-chorus, things would flow nicer.

Why did he feel his eyes filling up with tears? He had no time to feel sorry for himself. Nothing was working out, and crying about it wouldn’t change the fact that his head was completely empty of original song ideas.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before focusing again on the track in front of him.

He hadn’t even started on the lyrics.

The sense of panic was far too strong, and his mind was screaming for him to buck up, focus harder, create something that was acceptable.

He was pulled out of his thoughts again by the sound of his studio door opening.

“You’re going to kill yourself, I hope you know,” Changbin said quietly as he made his way over to his usual chair beside Chan.

Chan tried to give a somewhat interested look to the younger rapper, but all he could manage was a slight head nod. He was still focused on the colourful lines of beats and chords on his laptop. He refrained from looking directly at the younger boy, not wanting to show any signs of the intense feelings that crushed his chest.

“Jesus christ, you actually look like shit,” Changbin grabbed Chan’s chin gently and brought his gaze towards away from the track which was causing so much grief, “why are you doing this?” Chan’s gaze remained unfocused, looking at nothing in particular.

Chan took a second to process what he was saying. Why was he doing this? Because it was his job. Because the company, the members and the fans were all waiting for him to do his job properly.

He wanted to say all of that, but what came out from his lips was “I have to”.

“That’s bullshit,” Changbin said, “I’ve been warning you about taking care of yourself-- Chan you’re shaking”. He moved to grab a hold of Chan’s trembling fingers. “You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, you are a shell of yourself, and for what?”

“For our jobs, Binnie” Chan pulled his hands away from the other boy, turning himself back towards the screen. He didn’t want the younger to see the fresh pool of salty tears threatening to fall down his cheeks without consent.

Changbin sighed. “You’re more important than a deadline. You know that, right?”

“What do you want me to do?” Chan asked, “I'm okay”. His voice was reduced to nothing more than a whisper.

Chan didn’t need to look over to know that Changbin was thoroughly upset. Whether it was with him or the company, Chan didn’t know. All he knew was that when something upset Changbin, the aura of the room shifted. The air felt heavy and thick.

“I’m worried about you,” Changbin said, placing his hand on Chan’s shoulder. The older boy involuntarily flinched at the unexpected contact. “I woke up in the middle of the night to see that you aren’t in your bed again, and I just don’t know what to do anymore,”

“Don’t”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be worried about me,” Chan swiveled in his chair to finally meet Changbin’s gaze for the first time that night, “it’s not your issue,” He was expecting frustration, anger or fury, but he was startled when all he could read in his brother’s eyes was shock and sadness.

“You don’t...” he trailed off, “you don’t sound like yourself...” Changbin slowly raised himself out of his chair. He was avoiding Chan’s eyes.

“All you’re doing is distracting me,” Chan accused, “I can handle myself, I don’t need you worrying about me like my mother,”

Changbin’s entire body was stiff. He looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but couldn’t.

Why couldn’t he see that this was what Chan needed? Why couldn’t he see that this was best? Why did he have to stick his nose in everybody’s business like he has any say in their activities?

“You should leave now,” Chan said coldly, “I have to get back to work,”

Changbin hesitated for a moment, seemingly mulling over what his next words should be.

“You’re upset that you are having trouble with a song... Big deal,” Changbin said, still quietly, but with so much more bite to his tone, which shocked Chan. “We have an entire group of kids at home who need their leader. You think that they don’t feel anxious these days? We all feel stressed, Chan”

“Bin-”

“These children look up to you because you’re a damn good leader,” Changbin began moving anxiously around the room, “they see their... role model throwing his health away for a song, and they think that should be the standard. It is sick, and it shouldn’t have to go that far,”

Chan felt the pressure in his head return at the words Changbin was saying. “You don’t have any right to bring them into this--”

“You know I found out Jeongin’s been skipping meals?” Changbin’s voice was steadily rising. His face was darkening with frustration that was hidden earlier.

Chan sat in stunned silence. Jeongin has been skipping meals? For how long? Why didn’t Chan realize this before? Was he sick? Did he need a councelor? Was he self conscious?

Before Chan got a chance to ask any of these questions, Changbin continued on his rant.

“All of the kids are stressed because that’s what happens before a comeback! I don’t give a damn if you want to ruin yourself for your music, because I get it. I do too. But I am not going to let you create a bad example for the kids. I can’t and I won’t,”

Chan finally found the strength in his legs to stand up and look at Changbin face to face. He could see that Changbin was furious by the fire in his eyes and the red colour that was taking over his skin.

“You have no right how to tell me to live, you don’t know what being the leader is like!” Chan snapped, shoving his finger into Changbin’s rapidly rising and falling chest, “I am doing this for the kids, okay?”

“If you honestly cared about them,” Changbin shoved Chan back away from him, causing the leader to stumble before gaining his balance on his desk chair, “you would make sure that they knew their health always comes first. This is a dangerous game, Chan! And sooner or later you are going to lose,”

“I think you should leave,” Chan said for the second time that night. He had enough. This was all so that Stray Kids could be the best group they can be, yet Changbin is acting like Chan is a maniac for being a perfectionist.

Changbin was stunned. “Be that way.” he mumbled before ultimately leaving the studio. Before ultimately leaving Chan alone.

The moment the door clicked shut behind the younger boy, Chan muffled his screams of frustration with his hands. The tears that have been on edge for a while now began streaming down his face, making tracks that felt like they burned the soft skin.

He was mad. No, mad was an understatement. He was upset. Furious. Angry. Pissed off. Hysterical. Any of those synonyms could describe the feelings that Chan felt. His head was pounding, and the pressure was back worse than ever.

He felt guilty because Changbin was right. He didn’t even notice that Jeongin wasn’t eating. He didn’t deserve to be a leader. He should quit. He should go to the company and tell them he failed.

Chan began pacing around the room, suddenly feeling like the walls were too small.

His gaze fell on the small, white laptop that was causing his pain, and he felt white hot anger and frustration. With a cry of anguish, he slammed the screen shut.

He pulled at his hair so forcefully he wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped from his scalp. His chest felt so tight.

The laptop. He shut it so hard... What if he shattered the screen? With a whimper, he raised the screen up to see that it was still in good condition. The contents of the screen however, were not.

Chan felt the air leave his lungs when he saw he got bounced out of the software. He felt like his world was crashing down around him.

With shaky hands, he moved the mouse to open the software again. Chan prayed to whatever deity there was up there that he didn’t just lose all of the progress that he most definitely didn’t press save for.

The one attempt of a song that Chan didn’t hate ended up deleting from his laptop, never to fully develop into a proper song.

That was the final straw for Chan.

All at once, it seemed like the Earth’s supply of oxygen vanished. His hands flew desperately to his hair in an attempt to pull himself out of the spiral he was in.

He was full on sobbing, clutching his knees to his chest once his legs gave out from under him. He struggled for breath on his studio floor. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep so bad.

It felt like his body was being compressed, and he didn’t know how to save himself. He felt hopeless and weak, crying over some stupid lost progress. His world was shattering.

Your work is gone.

Changbin hates you.

Jeongin isn’t eating because of you.

The members don’t want you as their leader.

The fans know you’re a fraud.

You’re a horrible idol.

You don’t deserve to be here.

These thoughts were ringing in Chan’s ears, bouncing around his skull. Chan cried out again, burying his face into the carpet, trying to breathe.

He needs help, but he doesn’t deserve it. He brought this on himself, and now he’s actually compelled to inconvenience another person with this. The track was gone, his members hated him, and he was broken.

Chan’s entire forehead was slick with sweat, and he felt his body tremble. He was a weak, worthless fool. He was clawing at any part of him that he could. He felt so weak and alone, sobbing his heart out on the floor.

He didn’t know exactly how long he spent curled up in a ball beside his desk before he was able to calm his heart rate down enough to process thoughts. He needed someone. He needed someone badly, but the weight of shame kept him seated against the wall.

He wanted to call Changbin and apologize so badly, but with how immature and selfish he had been acting, Chan didn’t deserve the kindness and support the younger boy would inevitably give him. The guilt of how he treated the other boy began to eat away at the shame.

With a spinning head, Chan hoisted himself upwards enough to grab his phone from the top of his desk. The time on the screen read 4:53, and Chan desperately hoped that Changbin was still awake.

Without hesitating enough to psyche himself out, Chan pressed the “call” icon, and waited. He tried to slow down his breathing enough so that Changbin wouldn’t know he was crying.

“What do you want?”

Chan was startled at Changbin’s greeting, almost stuttering his response. “I... I’m sorry,” was all that Chan could manage to say.

“You should be,”

Chan cringed at the bitterness in the other’s voice, but remained calm. “Can you come?” Chan’s voice was shaking slightly, and there was a beat of silence from the other end of the line.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” Chan denied, biting down on his closed fist in a sad attempt to stifle the sounds that were threatening to escape from his throat.

“Are you okay? Fuck I was almost home, but I’m coming back, okay? Just wait for me,”

Chan felt another set of hot tears trail down his cheeks, which sucked because he thought he didn’t have any more tears left in him. He wanted Changbin to come back to him, but not because he was afraid that Chan couldn’t handle simple emotions. “Okay,” he answered, and as soon as he felt the tightness in his throat, he hung up the call. Changbin didn’t need to hear him sob.

Chan felt himself start to slip into his spiral again, and slapped himself in the cheeks. He needed it to ground himself.

Just breathe.

Chan counted all of the breaths that he took until Changbin came. He tensed up once he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and a face next to his. He was expecting Changbin to be mad, however the boy keeps surprising him.

There were faint wrinkles of worry on Changbin’s forehead as he held a serious gaze with the blubbering boy in front of him. His touch was irritating to Chan, who shrugged the hand off his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Changbin whispered, trying to meet Chan’s eyes.

Chan raised his eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his abused and stinging eyes. Changbin didn’t have anything to apologize for; it was Chan who was stupidly self-destructive.

Changbin moved so that he was sitting beside Chan, his back against the studio wall. “I was too harsh. I should have been more patient, I know you’re stressed,” he sighed. Of course Changbin had to be an angel.

“You... you were right,” Chan admitted.

“Bang Chan? Admitting I’m right?” Changbin teased, “that’s a first,”

Chan playfully shoved Changbin, and then moved to rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. The atmosphere was lighter now that Changbin was there to relieve the pain.

“I should have been a better leader,” Chan whispered, “I’m sorry,”

Changbin surely didn’t miss the way his voice faltered at the end of his statement. Chan felt his eyes get heavier, the post-panic attack fatigue getting to him.

“You’re a fucking amazing leader,” Changbin replied, “I’m sorry for being harsh. Although I am not sorry about telling you off for setting a bad example because I know that you can do better,”

“’S fair,” Chan slurred.

“Look at me,” Chan gave a half-hearted, half-interested moan, “Christopher, I said look at me,” Changbin commanded, grabbing Chan’s chin and bringing it to his face, “You are perfect.”

Chan searched Changbin’s eyes for lies, but was met with nothing but the sincerity of a best friend.

“You are perfection. And I know that whatever you end up doing is going to be perfect,”

Chan smiled at his friend. Even though he could be annoying and naggy, Changbin was always there to pick him up. He was always able to wipe the dirt off of your face when you fell from the high. He didn’t pass judgments.

Chan was stuck in his thoughts until the realization of his reality hit him like a freight train. “Fuck,” he said as he pulled his face away.

“What?”

“The song...” he said, grasping at his desk until he was in a standing position and opening his laptop again.

Changbin stood up too and sighed. “I thought you were going to take it easier from now on,” he whined.

“Fuck no, Changbin,” he said, tiredness still evident in his tone, “it’s gone,”

“It’s gone?” Changbin pulled his seat beside Chan, focusing on the newly opened blank track Chan started.

Chan just nodded as he tried to remember how the song goes. Okay, it was 120bpm tempo... What were the chords that made up the verse? What was the instrument? How did the beat go?

Chan groaned in frustration as he racked his brain.

“We’ve done this before,” Changbin shoved Chan so that he could get a better view of the laptop.

“Huh?”

“You, me and Jisung,” Changbin looked concentrated, “we’ve produced songs in hours. I’m sure we could get something done if we worked together,”

Chan smiled, probably for the first time in days. “I would like that a lot,” he said gratefully.

It was then that Chan realized that maybe some some people could be perfect after all.

94 notes · View notes